by Herron, Rita
“If they take me to jail, we won’t have that future,” Six cried. He lowered the blade an inch, but Rafe lunged forward and grabbed him around the neck.
Six fought and struggled, but Rafe knocked the scalpel from his hand and sent it flying across the room. Another sharp blow, and he threw Six down to the floor, grabbed his hands, and handcuffed them behind his back.
“Her brain . . . I need her brain to finish my collection. The brain controls movement and thoughts and emotions. The cerebellum, the medulla, the brain stem . . . it’s all important. I have to have her brain.”
“Shut up,” Rafe growled as he flipped the man over. “Not another word, or I’ll shoot you in the damn head. Then we’ll collect your brain.”
Six grew still, his eyes darting to Amelia. Amelia ran to him and wrapped her arms around him, rocking him and soothing him with low words.
Rafe yanked out his pocketknife and sawed at the straps holding Liz to that fucking table. “Are you all right?”
Liz nodded, but she was trembling as he helped her down. Unable to resist, he pulled her into his arms and held her.
“How did you know where I was?” Liz asked in a ragged whisper.
Rafe stroked her back. “Amelia. She heard you scream when she called Six. She saved you, Liz.”
Liz wiped at her eyes and pulled away to look at Amelia. Amelia glanced up at her with a tormented look. Six had quieted, but looked almost as if he’d lapsed into a catatonic state.
“I’m sorry,” Amelia said, her voice breaking. “I . . . didn’t know. I didn’t believe it.”
Liz offered her a sympathetic look. “It’s okay, Amelia. You saved my life. That took courage.”
“I need to call Maddison.” Rafe gestured toward the bloody plastic on the wall and the jars. “It looks like we can close this case now, too.”
Liz tried to pull herself together while the men made the necessary phone calls.
A few minutes later CSI arrived to process the place. Nick and Sadie rushed up shortly afterward, and Nick took Six into custody. Amelia was so upset that Sadie gathered her in her arms to console her, then drove her sister home while Jake accompanied Nick.
Maddison shook his head as they hauled Six out to the squad car. “I can’t believe he was right under our noses all the time. I had one of my men pick up Brian Castor. He’s taking him to the sheriff’s office for questioning.”
Liz cleared her throat. “If he knew Loggins was his brother, and realized what he was doing, Brian is an accomplice.”
Liz released a shaky breath. He had wanted to cut out her brain.
Damn her. She would hold herself together until they got home, and she could completely fall apart where no one would see.
Silence stretched inside the car, filled with the horrors of what had happened. And the distance Rafe had put between them after he’d learned about her pregnancy.
When they reached her house, relief made her shoulders sag. A hot bath, a glass of wine, and she’d collapse in bed.
Except she feared the nightmares would come again.
Rafe parked, and they walked up to the door together. She reached for the doorknob, desperate to get inside before she could beg him to spend the night and chase the bad dreams away.
Rafe’s heart was still racing with fear as Liz unlocked the door and stepped inside. She turned to say good-bye, but he couldn’t leave her tonight.
She didn’t tell you about the baby.
He didn’t care. She had her reasons. Besides, he’d almost lost her tonight.
“Liz, I’m not leaving you.”
Liz licked her lip, drawing his gaze to her mouth. He wanted to kiss her.
“I don’t need a bodyguard anymore, Rafe. Harlan is dead, and the Dissector is in custody.”
An image of that killing room hit him, and emotions threatened to send Rafe to his knees. “I know, but I still want to come inside.”
Liz narrowed her eyes. “Rafe?”
Rafe scraped a hand through his hair and looked down, words tangling on his tongue. But he took a deep breath and spit them out. “I love you, Liz. I . . . God, I went crazy tonight when I saw you tied up in that killing room.”
A soft smile curved Liz’s mouth. “I love you, too, Rafe.”
A heartbeat of silence, then Rafe stepped into Liz’s house and her arms.
Seconds later they were tearing off each other’s clothes, falling into bed, touching and loving and caressing every inch of each other.
When Rafe rose above her and entered her, he looked into her eyes. “I meant it when I said I love you.” He thrust deeper, eliciting a moan. “Marry me, Liz.”
Liz remembered their argument about the job, the pain of losing their baby . . .
She pressed a hand to his cheek and kissed him tenderly. They could work all that out later. Tonight they needed to celebrate their love and that they were both alive.
So she whispered yes, then he thrust deeper, in and out, and they built a rhythm with their bodies until they both came together in a blinding sea of pleasure.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rafe led Liz into the conference room for the wrap-up meeting, anxious to close the case so they could go back to bed together.
But work had to come first. The town was waiting for answers.
Lieutenant Maddison, Dr. Bullock, Jake, and Nick joined them, the mood somber.
Rafe took charge. “Ned Harlan is dead. Although he confessed to being Six and the Dissector, we now know that that wasn’t the case. The actual perp is the man who called himself Anderson Loggins, real name Jeremy Castor.”
Rafe pointed to the photos on the whiteboard. “Jeremy Castor and our original suspect, J. R. Truitt, are fraternal twins. DNA confirms this. Their brother is Brian Castor. The boys were born to Ester Banning’s sister. After her sister, along with her sister’s husband, died in a car crash, Ester placed Brian and Jeremy up for adoption. At the time, J. R. was in the hospital because he’d been in the car with his parents. Before Ester could place him for adoption, Social Services intervened and gave him to another family, the Truitts.
“Jeremy and J. R. were four at the time. When the Castors sent Jeremy away because of emotional problems, the Commander used him in his experiments. When Jeremy mentioned his twin, the Commander tracked Truitt down to compare them.” Rafe turned to Lieutenant Maddison to elaborate. “The question is—did Brian Castor find out about his brothers and help Six?”
Maddison cleared his throat. “Brian denies knowing that Jeremy was his brother. He tried to get information from the social worker who handled the case, Rusty Lintell, but she was murdered before he got answers. He was still trying to locate his brother.”
“He didn’t know about the twins?” Liz asked.
“No. The Castors had only taken in Jeremy, not J. R., so Brian had no idea he had two brothers.”
“You believe him?” Nick asked.
Maddison nodded. “Brian took a polygraph and passed. He has stated that he wants to meet his brothers. Maybe he and Truitt can connect.”
“What about Truitt?” Liz asked.
“I questioned him again,” Jake said. “Apparently, at the nursing home, he overheard a conversation between his adoptive mother and Ester. That’s when he learned he was adopted and had at least one sibling.”
“When Ester abused his mother, Truitt grew suspicious,” Liz surmised. “He may have had the photograph of Ester because he was trying to learn about his birth family.”
Jake nodded.
“With all the hype about the Slaughter Creek cases and the social worker’s death, Brian Castor became suspicious as well,” Maddison interjected. “He went to the prison to find out if the Commander knew anything about his brother.”
Nick spoke up. “Roper admitted that when Ester realized Brian and Truitt were snooping around, sh
e’d tried to make contact with the Commander.”
Jake drummed his fingers on the table. “Ironic that Truitt ran the slaughterhouse, but otherwise he’s innocent.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.
“Maybe his adoptive parents helped channel his urges through their business,” Liz suggested. “And when the father died, he inherited the farm.”
More murmurs.
Liz turned to Jake. “What about Amelia?” Liz asked. “Will she be charged as an accomplice?”
Jake shook his head. “No—she didn’t know about the murders. When she figured it out, she came to me for help.”
“She did save me,” Liz said, relieved for Amelia’s sake. She’d already suffered too much.
“What about the body on Truitt’s farm?” Nick asked.
“DNA proved it was Truitt’s adoptive mother,” Dr. Bullock said. “It was illegal to bury her on his property, but we have confirmation that it was at his mother’s request.”
Liz rubbed her forehead. “So we know that Six was Jeremy, and Chet Roper was Ten. What about Eight and Nine?”
“Ned Harlan was Eight, J. R. Truitt Nine,” Rafe said. “Roper filled in the blanks.”
“Then it really is over,” Liz said.
“My family is finally safe,” Jake said.
“And so is the rest of Slaughter Creek,” Nick added.
The relief in the room was palpable.
“I’m sure Brenda is chomping at the bit for the scoop,” Jake said wryly.
Nick gave them a lopsided grin. “Of course she’s waiting outside for the go-ahead.”
“Good work,” Rafe said. “Everyone get some rest.”
The group stood and shook hands, relief reverberating in the air as they dispersed.
As Liz and Rafe filed from the conference room, Liz’s emotions ping-ponged back and forth. Finally she was free from Harlan, and the town was safe.
Rafe’s confession of love and his marriage proposal made her giddy with joy.
But they still needed to talk. She couldn’t marry Rafe without telling him everything.
He could still change his mind.
Rafe pulled her up against him when they reached his vehicle, giving her a kiss. “Now we can take a day or two off.”
Liz’s heart fluttered at the passion in his eyes. There was nothing she wanted more than to make love to him again. “We have to talk, Rafe.”
He raised a brow, one finger trailing along her shoulder. “Uh-oh. You haven’t changed your mind about marrying me, have you?”
“No, but you might change yours.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
Liz blinked back tears. “Because after Harlan’s attack, after I lost the baby”—she paused to swallow—“I had internal injuries.” She had to spit it out. “The doctor said I might never be able to carry a baby to term.”
Rafe’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening for a moment before he dipped his head and looked straight into her eyes. “You think that matters to me?”
Liz held her breath. “I don’t know.”
He took a step back, making her heart sink. “Come on. I want to take you someplace.”
Liz was confused. “Where?”
“Just get in,” he said, motioning to the passenger-side door.
They picked up coffee and doughnuts at a drive-through and then drove to a building on the edge of town.
The sign read BOYS’ CLUB.
Rafe paused in the entryway, and Liz stared across the room at groups of kids. They varied in ages from preschool to teenagers. Some were making bird feeders, some playing games, some painting. Older kids were playing basketball in an attached gym.
Suddenly a little boy of about four, wearing faded clothes and sporting a bad haircut, raced toward Rafe, calling his name. “Rafe, Rafe . . .”
Rafe scooped up the kid with a laugh and hugged him to his chest. “Hey, Benny. What’s up, bud?”
Benny started to babble about making pinecone birdfeeders, and Liz smiled. Rafe was good with children. He needed and deserved to have one of his own.
How could she deny him that?
A teenager with dark hair and a scar on the side of his face approached and shook Rafe’s hand. A minute later, he and Benny hurried back to join their group.
Rafe pulled Liz up against him. “If we have a baby, I’d love that. If we don’t, I have a family here. I’ll share them with you.” He gestured toward Benny. “In fact, that’s only one of the kids here who needs a home.”
Liz’s throat closed. She loved Rafe more than she’d ever thought possible.
Smiling through her tears, she threw her arms around his neck and nodded, then kissed him again with all her love.
A few months ago, she’d thought her life was over. That Rafe was gone.
But now she was looking forward to forever.
Acknowledgments
First, a special thanks to all the fans of the Slaughter Creek series! I’m glad you’re enjoying my dark, sinister plots.
Also thanks to my critique partner Stephanie Bond for reading through the rough draft, to fellow writer Jennifer St. Giles for brainstorming lunches, and to fellow writer Debra Webb for her support and for answering questions about law enforcement.
And last but not least, thanks to the amazing team at Amazon for liking my dark side, and for their editorial and marketing support. You guys are awesome!
Look for the next exciting story in the Slaughter Creek series, Dying for Love, coming soon from Amazon Montlake!
Prologue
I wish I could leave my body behind. I’d take my mind to another place, somewhere nice and soft and warm. Someplace where rainbows made pretty colors, and I had friends and a mommy who’d sing to me at night.
Then the monsters could do whatever they wanted to me, and I wouldn’t feel any pain.
I try so hard to make it happen. To levitate and leave the room. To float to another place far away so I can tell . . .
Help me. Please help me, I cry.
But I’m only a kid, and nobody listens. Nobody hears me cry at night. No one comes to chase the bogeyman away.
No one says it’ll be okay.
Because they don’t lie to little boys where I am. And they don’t care if you’re afraid.
Death whispers in my ear a thousand times a day. “You can run, and you can hide, Zack. But I’ll get you anyway.”
No . . . I would escape one day.
I picked up the nail I found under my metal bed and scratched a picture on the concrete wall. A drawing of the monster who kept me locked up. It had hideous features, distorted and bulging. Coppery eyes that shot daggers dripping with blood at my feet.
And sharp fangs that snapped at my skin and tore it off into pieces like rags.
The woman’s voice drifted through the eaves of the cold halls. The lullaby she was singing. Only it wasn’t a lullaby but a call for the dead. A warning of what was to come.
The room was black. The door bolted. The keys turning in locks down the hall screeching like banshees.
I know what banshees are. They’re creatures of the night.
People who are about to be murdered see them.
I hear her mourning call from the woods outside.
She’s washing the bloody clothes of someone who just died.
Is she coming for me next?
Chapter One
Amelia Nettleton jerked from sleep, jumped up from her bed, and went to the window to look out at the morning sunlight, grateful for the beginning of a new day. Last night had been filled with horrible dreams.
Nightmares of Six cutting off body parts and storing them in jars to look at like they were prizes he’d won for being so smart.
The thought sickened her. At least her psychosis hadn’t entail
ed mutilating others. She’d hurt herself with the alters, although Skid had been violent a few times. But only when he’d been protecting her.
When she finally fell back asleep, another dream had seeped into her sleep. A tiny voice, whispering that he needed her.
Images of her holding a baby taunted her. Then images of her in a hospital delivery room.
The dream was so vivid it seemed real. As if she’d been launched back in time.
“Push, Amelia, push. The baby’s coming!”
Pain ricocheted through Amelia’s abdomen, fear choking her. What if something went wrong?
“Come on, you can do it.”
Hands lifted her shoulders. A voice ordered her to grip her knees and push again. She heaved a breath, fighting through the pain of the contraction and imagining the moment she would hold her newborn in her arms.
Finally.
She wished Sadie were here. Wished for Papaw and her mother and all the people she’d lost when they’d locked her up.
But he was here. The baby’s father. The man who was going to save her and take her away. Then the two of them would raise their baby together and have a real home.
She reached for his hand, desperate for his touch. She couldn’t lose him, like she’d lost everyone else. He was the only one who believed her, who didn’t think she was crazy.
The only one who knew the truth about what they’d done to her at the sanitarium.
But her fingers touched empty air. And suddenly he was gone.
The bright lights blinded her, and the room blurred, spinning in circles. White coats with nameless faces floated past, the sound of voices echoing as if they came from a faraway place. As if they were in a tunnel.
“She’ll never know.”
“Don’t tell her.”
“She’s too crazy to have a baby.”
“No one can ever find out what we did.”
She struggled to make out who was talking, but another contraction gripped her, then another. They were right on top of each other.