“I strangled them,” the dean shouted from behind him.
Owen slid his eyes closed when she walked past him. “Boring. Effective, but boring. Seeing as how this has ultimately become my Hell Week, I’m going to have to spice things up…one slice at a time.”
“Junior—”
“Stop calling me that! I fucking hate it. I hate you.” Drawing in labored breaths, she moved back to the corner of the room. Owen slid one eye open just as she picked up a crowbar. “I used a tire iron on my mom. My trusty dusty knife, too.” She waved the blade. “Right now, I think I could do something rather interesting with both of these.”
When she moved out of view, Owen inwardly cursed. He lay only a foot away from the ladder, but without being able to move his hands or feet, he couldn’t risk making a move just yet. He’d have to wait until she went to work on Josh. While she was distracted, he would find a way to loosen the rope.
The boy’s screams pierced his ears and resonated throughout the basement. Taking a risk, Owen curled onto his right side and brought his knees to his stomach. Excruciating pain shot through his right forearm and impaled his brain, making him dizzy and nauseous. Sucking in a deep breath, he used his injured arm and shoulder to shove himself to his knees. His left leg throbbed as fresh blood soaked his jeans. He quickly shifted his body and turned his back to the ladder, then held back a gasp.
Blood oozed from the slice Melissa had made along the center of Josh’s chest. With her back still to him, he glanced at the dean, who stared directly at him, then nodded toward the corner. Owen looked, and spotted his gun on the workbench. He had no idea if anyone knew where he was, or who had taken him. As far as he was concerned, he was on his own. With retrieving the gun his sole focus, he kept his eyes on Melissa’s back, widened one leg, shuffled the other one until both legs met, then moved his bound feet.
“I’m not sure how doctors perform chest surgery,” Melissa said. “But I’m assuming they pull back the skin and crack the ribs, right?” She glanced over her shoulder to the dean. “I thought it would be fun if I pulled his beating heart from his chest. According to Professor Stronach, some cannibalistic cultures ate the organs of their enemies as a way of displaying their victory. Think about it. Wouldn’t eating Josh’s heart be an excellent way to truly come full circle? To truly show his father, your enemy, that in the end you’re the victor?”
The dean pushed off his heels. “That’s disgusting.”
“So says the man who has killed nine innocent boys. Really, Daddy. Your morals are incredibly…warped.”
When she met Owen’s gaze, his hope deflated, but his determination grew stronger. Melissa was beyond sick. If he didn’t stop her, they were all dead.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked him, as she approached. Blood dripped from the knife and left a trail. “I guess I should have started with you, after all.”
When she reached him, she kicked his chest. He fell back, but quickly pulled his legs and feet from under him.
“My idiot father was right about one thing,” she said. “You and your partner are buffoons. You two are so fucking clueless, even after all the bits of evidence I left for you. If you’d done your job, you would have caught my dad, saved the boy and…well, honestly, you could’ve never saved the boy. He’d seen my face and knew me from the dorms.” She tilted her head. “Yeah, he would’ve died anyway. But now you will—”
A door slammed on the main floor. Melissa craned her neck and looked up toward the ladder.
“You’re screwed, Junior,” the dean said with a chuckle. “There’s no way out but up, and it sounds like the buffoon’s friends are here.”
“Actually, I’m not. The only one screwed is you.” She smiled, then zipped her coat. “Yep, I know about your secret door, Daddy. God, you’re an idiot. Have fun in prison. I have a feeling your fellow inmates will make your Hell Week look like playtime.”
As she took off, Owen kicked the back of her knee. Her leg buckled. She fell forward, the hit jarring the knife from her hands. He quickly squirmed his body back and kicked the workbench and shouted for help. The gun fell just as she retrieved the knife.
“I would have enjoyed killing you, but you’re not worth it,” she said, then ran across the room until the darkness swallowed her.
*
Spurred by frustration and fear, Rachel gnawed on a pencil and trudged through the thick, wet snow. She couldn’t stop thinking about Owen, or…the blood they’d found inside Melissa’s SUV.
“Not too far, Ma’am,” one of Marty’s men called after her.
“Kiss my ass,” she mumbled. As she edged around the corner of Dean Xavier Preston’s century home, she wished she were carrying a gun. When they’d arrived, and discovered Melissa’s dark green Chevy Blazer, Jake had insisted she stay outside and near the SUV until he and Marty cleared the house. Meanwhile, Marty had ordered one of his officers to head around the back of the house to secure the exit. Unfortunately, Jake’s deputies and the remaining men on loan from the state police had been needed at the festival for crowd control. “Bullshit.” She kicked the snow. Those men were needed here.
Damn it, I’m needed in there.
Her rational, logical mind understood Jake’s position. While she was a licensed private investigator and also licensed to carry a concealed weapon, she didn’t have the experience for a situation like this. Melissa, rather, Holly Saunders, was a dangerous, unpredictable killer. But the bitch had gone after Owen. Her stomach clenched.
Please, let him be okay.
She couldn’t imagine never seeing him, touching him, loving him. While she’d said some awful things to him and had acted as if there wasn’t a chance in hell they’d ever—
Sucking in a breath, she stopped dead. Icy fingers of dread crept along her spine as a figure emerged from the overgrown hedges running along the side of the house. The glow from the moon revealed long dark hair and Rachel knew, deep in the depths of her soul, that figure was the bitch herself.
Biting hard on the pencil, she crouched and hid behind a fat pine tree. Moving the branches slightly, she waited and watched. Melissa looked from left to right, then took off running. With the element of surprise on her side, and afraid of losing Melissa in the woods, Rachel shoved the pencil in her pocket and sprinted after her.
Once she entered the woods, she realized she’d reacted too quickly. She should have called out to the officer at the front of the house. Without a flashlight, without a weapon, she couldn’t see or protect herself. She considered her phone, but instantly changed her mind. The glow from her cell could alert Melissa’s attention.
Rachel stumbled over something, cracked her knee and scraped her hand. Screw it. She scrambled to her feet, reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Slowing to a jog, she kept her eyes wide as she hit the speed dial. When Jake answered, a small sense of relief filled her.
“She’s in the woods,” Rachel whispered. “West of the house. I’m on her—”
Melissa swung her leg through the air. Rachel dropped the phone and raised her hands. She knocked the bitch’s booted foot away before it connected with her head. Taking advantage of Melissa’s exposed torso, she double jabbed her stomach, then sent an uppercut straight to her jaw. As Melissa’s head shot back, Rachel gave the woman a solid kick in the gut.
Melissa fell to her knees and clutched her midsection. With vengeance and fear for Owen driving her, Rachel kicked the other woman’s head.
Melissa tucked and rolled, sprang up and raised her arm. A sliver of moonlight reflected off the blade of a knife.
Raw fury ripped through Rachel. She shot her hand out and gripped the other woman’s arm. Melissa pressed forward. The tip of the knife snagged Rachel’s coat. The bitch might have her by at least seven inches and thirty pounds, but Rachel knew how to fight dirty. When the knife met skin, she acted fast. She kneed Melissa in the belly, then the crotch. As the woman gasped and grunted, Rachel head butted her. Blood spurted from Meliss
a’s nose. Ignoring her throbbing head, Rachel threw herself at Melissa, knocking the woman to the ground.
Melissa surprised her. Rolled them over and over until a large pile of rock stopped their momentum. At a disadvantage, Melissa pinned her with her weight, and swung both her fist and the knife.
Rachel blocked the knife, but took a hit to the cheek. She ignored the taste of blood and punched Melissa in the throat. The woman gasped and clutched her neck with her free hand. She raised the knife with intent, but Rachel shoved her back. Crawled on top of her, then slammed Melissa’s wrist against the rock. The knife fell from the bitch’s hand. Rachel reached over the rock to grab it, but met nothing but air. Confused, but more worried the woman had another weapon, she went for one of the rocks.
Melissa punched her in the kidney, then the jaw. Rachel fell to her side and kicked, but Melissa dropped her knees on Rachel’s back and gripped her head. She slammed Rachel’s head against the ground and shoved her face into snow and icy mud. Her heart beating out of control, the need to breathe overwhelming, Rachel wished to God she had called for help from the start. She wished she hadn’t been such a pansy ass and had forced herself to carry a gun. Owen and Sean’s images rose in her foggy mind. Who would look after brother? And Owen…why couldn’t she have just forgiven him and told him the truth? Told him she loved him.
“My daddy was right,” Melissa panted close to Rachel’s ear. “You and your partner are useless buffoons.” She pressed on Rachel’s head. “You should have seen the way I gutted your buddy. Cut him from the groin up to his—”
Stop this bitch.
Rachel squirmed her body and tried to buck Melissa. The woman pressed harder. “Fucking die,” she whispered against Rachel’s ear.
Not today.
With everything to lose, and in desperate need to breathe, Rachel twisted her arms, reached above and behind, and clawed Melissa’s face. Melissa’s grip loosened as she cried out. Rachel quickly pulled her head from the snow and mud, dragged in a deep breath, then elbowed Melissa in the gut. The woman grunted. Rachel rotated, reached into her coat pocket and latched onto the pencil. She pulled it free and stabbed Melissa in the cheek. Before the woman could grab it from her, Rachel plucked it from her face, and with her free hand, pinched Melissa’s bloodied nose. As Melissa howled and swung her fists, Rachel focused on what the bitch had done to Owen. She cocked her arm back, and using all of her strength, slammed the business end of the pencil against Melissa’s ear and shoved it hard.
Melissa froze. Moonlight chased shadows across her wide eyes and gaping mouth. Then her body violently shuddered. Rachel shoved her off, then quickly moved to her feet. As she stared at the convulsing woman, she used the back of her coat sleeve to wipe the mud and snow from her face.
She’d beaten the bitch, but there was no sense of triumph, only loss. If what Melissa had said was true, the killer had taken the man she loved.
Melissa’s body stopped jerking, then stilled. Rachel gave her a swift kick to the side. Nothing. Good. She walked a few feet and scooped up her glowing phone. Before she could hit her speed dial, heavy footfall drew near.
“Rachel,” Jake shouted.
She turned and caught the beams from flashlights dancing along the trees. “Over here,” she rasped, then cleared her throat. “Over here!”
Jake and one of Marty’s men rushed to her. While Jake pulled her close, the officer checked Melissa. He whistled, then shook his head. “Death by pencil. Never thought I’d ever see something like this.”
Jake pulled away and gripped her shoulders. “I want to kick your ass for going after her yourself.”
“Go ahead and try. I’ve got another pencil in my pocket.”
He wiped a stray tear off her cheek. “Owen’s freaking out. I almost kept him tied up to keep him from going after you.”
Hope flared in her chest as she grabbed his hands. “He’s okay?”
“He will be.”
“Sheriff,” the officer called.
They turned and stepped toward the rocks she’d slammed into during her fight with Melissa.
The officer aimed his flashlight down into a wide hole. “What do you make of this?”
Rachel peered into what she assumed was an old well and immediately saw a femur. She swallowed against the bile rising in her throat, took a step back, and then started to walk away. “I think we found the missing boys.”
Jake caught up with her. “Let me help you back.”
She shrugged him off and forced her legs to move faster, then faster until she took to a full sprint. When she reached the front of the house, she slowed, saw Owen sitting on the front porch step, then rushed to him.
He winced as he pushed off the step, then pulled her into his arms. “What the hell were you thinking?” He hugged her tight and made every blow she’d taken from Melissa come alive in the worst way. “She’s dangerous…she could have killed you.”
“She’s not so dangerous anymore,” she said with a mixture of remorse and relief.
He pulled back, and gently cupped her face. “I’m sorry.”
“It was me or her.” She touched his swollen jaw. “Owen, I…when I thought…”
He placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Later. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”
Chapter 23
Rachel sat in the chair next to Owen’s ER bed and took a sip of coffee. When she winced, he cracked a smile. “That bad?”
She set the cup on the stand next to his bed. “It’s worse than the stuff you’ve brewed.”
“So, I’ve got that going for me,” he said, and propped his good arm under his head. “We’ll be out of here soon. And I guarantee once we’re back at Joy’s, she’ll—”
“She’ll do what?” Joy edged around the corner and kept her teary eyes on Rachel. “Pamper the hell out of you?” She touched Rachel’s face, examined the bruises on her cheeks, before folding Rachel into her arms. “You okay, Shorty?”
Rachel nodded. “Just some scrapes and bruises.”
Joy drew back and held Rachel’s hands. “Is that a self-diagnosis or did an actual doctor tell you that?”
Rachel released a tired chuckle. “Yes, an actual doctor examined me.”
Joy looked over her shoulder and glanced at Owen. She let go of Rachel’s hands then moved to the bed. “That’s one hell of a goose egg.” She nodded to his forehead, then sucked in a breath when she looked at his forearm.
“It looks worse than it is,” he said, more concerned with Rachel than himself. She’d killed a person. Yes, out of self-defense, but would the guilt over taking a life eat at her?
“Says the man who just took thirty stitches to his arm and another fifteen to his thigh.” Rachel stood next to Joy. “Plus, he has a concussion.”
“And the boy?” Joy asked. “How’s he? Walter said he was cut up pretty bad.”
Owen glanced across the ER. Less than ten feet away, the doctors and nurses tended to Josh behind a closed curtain, prepping him for a room. “Where is Walter?”
“Parking the car. Now about that boy.”
“Physically, his doctor thinks he’ll be okay,” Rachel said. “He’s dehydrated. His left foot and toes are broken, and he has a laceration along his chest. As far as they can tell, no muscle or organ damage, but they still need to run a CT scan and want to keep him for a few nights.” She hugged herself and stared at him. “He was lucky.”
Josh was more than lucky. What Xavier Preston had had in store for the boy was vile and perverse. But what Melissa had planned to do…Owen slid his eyes closed and tried to erase the image.
“Heads up,” Jake said.
Owen opened his eyes and looked at the sheriff.
Jake thumbed behind him toward the ER’s wide, glass doors. “Marty’s been watching the parking lot. He called and said Bob Conway’s on his way in.”
“You’re not going to arrest him in front of Josh, are you?” Rachel asked, her eyes wide and holding the hint of disbelief. “The kid’s been thro
ugh enough. I think you’re better off waiting until his dad leaves the ER.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Joy asked. “And don’t give me none of that police business crap.”
When no one answered, Owen cleared his throat. “We believe Bob Conway tortured Preston when he was a student at Wexman.”
So your dad raped my dad? Melissa’s haunting question rang through Owen’s mind. He didn’t believe Conway had tortured Preston, he knew in his gut the man had taken a Hell Week hazing to a level so foul, it had corrupted Preston’s mind.
“While the doc was taking care of Owen,” Rachel began, keeping her voice low. “I borrowed Jake’s laptop and looked into Wexman’s database. It’s the same one Owen and I went through earlier this week. Only we were looking at students who’d graduated from the university. Because Preston is the killer behind Hell Week, I looked to see if he’d gone to school there. Turns out, he was at Wexman the same time Conway was, too.”
“Conway could have saved his son this morning,” Jake said with loathing.
Rachel turned when the ER doors slid open. “And here he is now. What are you going to do, Jake?”
The sheriff looked away and hooked his thumbs on his belt. “I’ll wait.”
“Where is he?” Bob rushed to them and grabbed Jake’s arm. “Where’s my son?”
Rachel pointed. “Behind that curtain.”
Without another word, Conway hurried over, then ripped the curtain back. “Josh. Oh my God.” He stood at the end of Josh’s hospital bed and fisted his hands. “Son…I…your mother and I have been so worried.”
Josh licked his cracked lips, then twisted his mouth in a mocking smile. “Liar,” he accused, his voice surprisingly strong considering everything he’d been through this past week.
Conway glanced over his shoulder at them, then quickly back to his son. “That’s the medication talking. You’ve been through a lot. Let me talk to your doctor. I want to have you moved to a real hospital.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” The heart rate monitor hooked to Josh’s chest began to ping in quick successions. “You make me sick.”
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