The Dying Game

by Beverly Barton

  Just as she made her move, her captor’s strong arm manacled her neck as he pressed a foul smelling rag over her nose.

  No, damn it, no!

  From his strategic hiding place, Pudge heard voices, running feet and the shout of orders. He had come to the Woodruff Building intending to kill his cousin Pinkie before Pinkie had murdered his latest victim and won their five-year dying game. But much to Pudge’s surprise, he had been trapped here inside once a crew of gunmen had descended upon the place. Overhearing bits and pieces of conversation while he managed to keep hidden from them, he surmised that Griffin Powell had set a trap for Pinkie, using one of his female agents as bait. If he hadn’t been caught in the middle of the sting operation, Pudge would have found this development highly amusing. As it was, he could do nothing but wait and let the scenario play out in front of him, then escape at the first opportunity.

  But it was so unfair that someone else would take Pinkie’s life, and that was bound to happen. His cousin wasn’t the type who would surrender. Like he, Pinkie would rather die than be taken alive.

  Since the woman Pinkie held captive was not a former beauty queen, that meant no matter what the outcome-whether she lived or died-Pinkie had lost the game. Today was April first. The deadline for the final kill. Pudge had more points, which made him the winner. It was only his right to claim the prize.

  There might be a way…

  Lindsay’s eyelids flickered as she tried to open her eyes. What had happened? Where was she? How long…? That bastard had knocked her out with something, maybe ether? She didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

  Had he been able to open the basement door? Was that where they were now?

  When she finally managed to open her eyes fully, she realized they were in the building, which meant he had gotten inside, somehow, someway. But they were not in the basement.

  As she gazed up, she saw the three-quarter moon, a few twinkling stars, and the vastness of the dark evening sky. Startled at first, then puzzled, she tried to sit up, but found that her hands and feet were bound. Struggling to move up and into a sitting position, Lindsay heard a man’s self-satisfied chuckles.

  Before she could do more than roll side to side, her captor placed his foot down on her chest. “Be still. I wouldn’t want you rolling off the edge of the roof and onto the street, six floors below us.”

  “The roof?” She gulped the question.

  “The basement door was unlocked,” he told her. “I managed to carry you inside and straight to the freight elevator before anyone figured out where we were or what I was doing. I imagine that by now, they’re running around in circles trying to figure out what happened to us.”

  “Griffin will find me. He’ll stop you!” She tried the ropes binding her wrists. Tight. And the more she struggled, the tighter the knots became.

  “By the time Griffin finds you, I will be gone. And you, my lovely little Lindsay, will be quite dead.”

  Shivering involuntarily, she tried to make out his face in the semi-darkness. He stood several feet away, in the shadows.

  “Since Paige Allgood is known for her voice, for her singing and acting abilities, I had planned to slit open her throat and hack away at her vocal chords.”

  What’s that in his hand?

  Oh God! He held a knife with a long, serrated blade. A hunting knife.

  “But since I can do whatever I want with you, I’m thinking about slicing here and there—” he brandished the knife over her face, down her arms, over her belly “—and letting you scream your head off. I love hearing women scream in agony. It gives me such a feeling of power and superiority.”

  Please, Griff, find me. Find me soon. Before it’s too late. And if you don’t make it in time, tell Judd…Tell him that I love him.

  Judd and Yvette entered the Woodruff Building, per Griff’s instructions, walking directly into the grand rotunda: Gray marble floors, white marble pillars, walnut wainscoting, huge crystal chandelier. A split staircase that spiraled right and left, leading to a banister-encased open mezzanine. Magnificent in the way only buildings from a bygone era were.

  Without touching Judd, Yvette sensed the increasing tension in him and around him, especially as Griffin approached. His solemn expression cautioned them.

  “What’s happening?” Judd demanded, barely able to control his rage.

  Yvette kept sending him subliminal messages, doing her best to connect with his mind without him being aware of what she was doing. Her ability to soothe savage beasts was, at best, minimal, depending on the circumstances and the beast involved. Judd was a man on the edge. One false move and he would fall headlong into uncontrollable mania. He had already lost one woman to a sadistic madman. She knew that everything within him was determined not to let history repeat itself.

  “We’ve traced his movements,” Griffin said. “If I had it to do over again…” He sucked in a deep breath. “He’s got her on the roof.” Griff glanced up. “The elevator goes all the way up to the sixth floor, then there’s a short set of stairs leading from there to the roof. The door locks from the inside, but if we rush through the door, he’ll kill her for sure. And if we try to go in with a helicopter, same thing.”

  “Tell me you have a plan.” Judd glowered at Griffin. “If not—”

  “We have a plan.” Griffin glanced at Yvette. She gave him a telepathic assurance that Judd was at least temporarily under control.

  Barely.

  “I’m going up there and talk to him through the closed door and do my best to distract him, at least long enough for Holt to get positioned on top of one of the buildings across the street. With this building on a corner and the building beside it only five stories high, the two directly across are the only ones that will give Holt the ability to zero in on our killer and take him out. But in order to get into position, Holt will be partially visible if the killer is looking that way.”

  “You need someone who can not only keep the BQ Killer distracted, but put him in the line of fire. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll go,” Judd said.

  “No. Not you. If you fuck up…This is Lindsay’s life we’re talking about.”

  “Don’t you think I know that.”

  Griffin glanced at Yvette again. You must let him do this.

  “Okay,” Griffin said.

  Judd heaved a deep, silent groan. “Let’s go.”

  Lindsay did not want to die.

  God, please don’t let it happen. Not now. Not this way. If the Beauty Queen Killer murders me, mutilates my body, it will destroy Judd completely. He almost didn’t survive Jennifer’s death. If I die at the same monster’s hands…

  The BQ Killer loomed over Lindsay where she lay on the rooftop, curled into a fetal position. Her hands and feet might be bound, but she would not lie still and make it easy for this lunatic to cut her up into little pieces.

  “Is your life flashing before your eyes?” he asked. “I’ll give you a few more minutes to make your peace. And feel free to beg me for your life. I get off on hearing my victims beg. They all do it, you know.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Oh, you will. Once I make the first few cuts and the pain becomes unbearable. You’ll beg, tough girl. You’ll beg and plead and scream, just like all the rest of them.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “And you’re scared.”

  “How does someone become as evil as you are?” Griffin where are you? My time is running out.

  The cold springtime wind blew across the rooftop, chilling Lindsay, reminding her that she was still alive, could still feel.

  How much would it hurt? To be stabbed and sliced? To be tortured? To be left to bleed to death?

  “Are you trembling because you’re cold?” he asked, ignoring her comment about him being evil. “And have you finally realized that no one can save you?”

  “If you kill me—”

  He laughed in her face. “If I thought Griffin would make a deal with
me, I would release you, but we both know that he would be willing to sacrifice your life in order to capture the Beauty Queen Killer.”

  Before Lindsay even thought of a reply, a loud, deep voice called out through the closed door that led from the rooftop to the staircase leading down to the sixth floor.

  “Griffin may be willing to sacrifice her, but I’m not,” the voice shouted. “I’m Judd Walker. I’ll make a deal with you. Name your terms.”

  Chapter 35

  Lindsay gasped.

  Judd was here? How was that possible? He was still in Atlanta, at the rehab center.

  Startled by Judd’s unexpected presence just beyond the closed door, Lindsay’s abductor spun around and glared at the barrier between him and the voice that had offered him a way to escape certain death.

  “You’re Jennifer Walker’s husband,” the killer said. “The man who sicced Griffin Powell on me four years ago.”

  “Let’s talk,” Judd shouted. “Let’s make a deal.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “What have you got to lose?”

  The man laughed.

  God, how Lindsay hated his eerie laughter.

  “Talk to me,” Judd told him. “I’m your only hope of coming out of this alive. You have to know that if you harm Lindsay, you’re a dead man.”

  “I’m a dead man regardless.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “You have nothing to offer me.”

  “That’s not true. All you need to do as a first step in our negotiations is exchange hostages. It will be my life for Lindsay’s, just in case anything goes wrong. Let me talk to you face to face. Let me open the door—”

  “No way in hell!”

  “I’ll come through the door very slowly, with my hands on my head. If I make one false move, you can shoot me, that is if you have a gun.”

  “I have a gun, wise guy. And I know how to use it. But I also have a knife that I’ve already used on Lindsay.”

  No, no! He’s lying, Judd. Don’t listen to him. Lindsay’s heart wept. Damn you, you evil son of a bitch. Don’t do this to Judd. Don’t conjure up memories of what you did to Jennifer. “Judd, he hasn’t—” Her voice was so weak she doubted Judd heard her.

  Without any warning, the killer aimed his pistol at her and fired. The bullet sliced through the top of Lindsay’s shoulder. She moaned with pain.

  “I shot her. Do you hear me? And if you try anything, I’ll kill her right now. I swear I’ll do it.”

  “Lindsay!” Judd cried her name.

  “He must love you if he’s willing to swap places with you,” the killer said to Lindsay as he walked over to her and kicked her in the ribs. “Knowing that will make killing you all the sweeter.” Surveying her trembling body, he waved his weapon over her, from her head to her feet.

  With his attention focused on Lindsay where she lay at his feet, the killer didn’t react quickly enough when the rooftop door swung open. He spun around to face the raging force storming toward him. Too late, he realized that he had lost control of the situation. He pointed his gun at Judd, then back at Lindsay. Everything happened so quickly, almost simultaneously, so Lindsay really didn’t know what occurred first. Judd attacked, using his body like a battering ram. As he knocked the BQ Killer backward, the man fired his pistol, but she didn’t know if he had hit Judd or if he had shot her again. Suddenly, the crack of a rifle shot rang out, and then another, both echoing loudly in Lindsay’s ears. Pain sliced through her stomach as if a sharp sword had pierced deep and wide, and she knew she had taken a second bullet. As she lay there staring at her abductor, only a few feet away from her, she saw blood trickling from a single hole in his head and from another in his neck. He slumped to his knees, and then toppled over, face down onto the rooftop.

  Lindsay opened her eyes. The morning light was much too bright. Her head ached and her mouth felt dry. Wondering where she was, she glanced from right to left. Closed white blinds covered the windows. Sunlight peeked through the cracks. The walls were light green, the ceiling white. The bed was narrow, the linens soft. A packet of some kind of IV solution stood by the bed, with a long tube leading from the packet to her hand.

  She stared at the top of her bruised hand. A needle was embedded in a vein, tan tape crisscrossing the tubing to hold it in place.

  I’m in a hospital.

  I’m not dead.

  What happened? Don’t you remember? an inner voice said. The Beauty Queen Killer shot you twice. And someone shot him.

  Judd! Oh, God! If Judd hadn’t distracted her abductor…

  Lindsay thrashed about, wanting Judd, needing Judd.

  Two large, gentle hands stroked her shoulders, soothing her. “Lie still, sweetheart. Everything’s all right. You’re going to be just fine.”

  She quieted and gazed up into Judd’s beautiful golden eyes.

  “Judd.” Her voice sounded like it belonged to a croaking frog.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  “Where…? What…? How long…?”

  “You’re in the hospital recovering from a nasty bullet wound. Cary Maygarden, the Beauty Queen Killer, shot you.”

  “Cary Maygarden? The eccentric millionaire from Nashville was the BQ Killer?”

  Judd nodded.

  “He shot me. Twice,” Lindsay said, slightly dazed by the realization that Judd, Griffin, and she had interacted socially with the killer only recently. No wonder he had seemed so familiar.

  “One bullet grazed your shoulder and the second hit you in the lower right side of your abdomen. But the doctors patched you up and you’ll soon be good as new.”

  “Cary Maygarden was the BQ Killer,” Lindsay repeated, barely able to believe it.

  “He’s dead. And his death was far too easy. Two shots. One in the head, the other in his neck. If there were any justice, he would have died a slow, agonizing death. I would like to have taken him apart, piece by piece for what he did to you…for what he did to Jennifer.”

  Lindsay lifted her IV-free hand. Judd grasped her hand, brought it to his face and held it against his cheek. That’s when she noticed his heavy beard stubble.

  “You need a shave,” she told him. “How long—?”

  “Four days,” he said. “Four of the longest days of my life.”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  He poured her a glass of water, then pushed the button to raise the head of her bed enough so that when he put the glass to her lips, she was able to take several sips through the straw.

  After he put the glass on the bedside table, he eased down and sat on the edge of the bed. “That was a damn fool thing you did, using yourself as bait to trap the Beauty Queen Killer. If anything had happened to you…God, Lindsay, when I thought I might lose you, too…”

  Using all the strength she could muster, she brought her hand up and laid it on his arm, then squeezed weakly. “It worked. We got him, didn’t we? It was worth the risk.”

  “Not if I’d lost you.” He clasped her hand again with the utmost tenderness. “Lindsay…”

  “How did you know where I was and what was going on? I know Sanders never would have told you.”

  “As a matter of fact, he did. But only at Yvette’s urging. Before we left Griffin’s Rest, she called Griff to let him know we were coming into Knoxville and that she’d make sure I didn’t do anything stupid.”

  “Apparently, she wasn’t able to do that.”

  Judd frowned. “When I heard that first shot, I thought he’d killed you. At that point, I didn’t care what happened to me.” He leaned over carefully and kissed her lips. She sighed. He lifted his head and smiled at her. “I love you.”

  “Please, say that again.”

  “I love you, Lindsay McAllister.”

  Tears flooded her eyes. She blinked repeatedly, but several stray drops hit her cheeks. “I love you, too, but you already know that. And I want you to know that it’s all right if you’re never able to love me the way you loved Jennifer. And I don�
�t care if you still love her and always will.”

  He kissed her hand, then held it against his chest as he gazed down at her. “While I was in rehab, Yvette was allowed to work with me, to take me through a crash course of grief-counseling. She made me realize something very important about love. I can love Jennifer for the rest of my life and I can love you, too. Jenny will always have a place in my heart. She’ll always be my first real love. But you, Lindsay, are the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, the woman I’ll grow old with, the woman who was meant to be mine. You’re my last love, sweetheart. My true soul mate.”

  Griff was more than surprised when several hours ago, he received a telephone call from former FBI Special Agent Curtis Jackson inviting him to meet him at Cary Maygarden’s ancestral mansion outside Nashville.

  “Nic’s officially in charge of the BQK cases, but since I headed up the original task force, they’re allowing me to be in on the conclusion,” Jackson had said. “Our people have been going over the guy’s house with a fine-tooth comb for days, searching for memorabilia from his kills.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. Not until this morning. That’s when our guys found a secret room in the basement.”

  “And inside?”

  “Not a damn thing, but just when we’d given up, guess what we found?”

  “Another secret room.”

  Jackson chuckled. “Yes, sir. And I thought since you’re the one who actually caught the BQ Killer, you should be allowed to take a look at Maygarden’s trophy room.”

  “How does Nic feel about that?”

  “Not happy, but she’s not going to bar you from entering. Strictly as a favor to me, her old mentor.”

  And that’s how Griff wound up with Nic Baxter, Josh Friedman, and Curtis Jackson inside Cary Maygarden’s gruesome secret chamber, the walls lined with photographs of beauty queens. Photos of them as contest winners, with their crowns and roses, alongside shots of the same young women after they had been murdered. Photo after photo of hacked, chopped, butchered, slaughtered wives, mothers, daughters, sisters. Each one a woman loved by someone, missed by someone, mourned by someone.