“He told you,” Deputy Daniels said, his voice soft. This time, I avoided looking into the mirror. I didn’t want him to see my face. “Didn’t he?”
Truth. I tipped my head forward a little more, letting my hair slide down like a shield. “Yes.”
“What did he tell you?” Sheriff Cutler got agitated enough he lost that Southern drawl.
“When I told him that Tasker had touched me, he said he’d kill him.” I cringed even as I said it. “Then later, he said he’d taken care of it.”
“Taken care of it. Taken care of Tasker?”
“I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know.”
“We could jail you on obstruction of justice, Miss Killian.” Sheriff Cutler suddenly wasn’t as jolly and laid-back as he’d pretended to be. “You should have notified us at once if you thought MacNiall would harm anyone.”
“I’ve answered all of your questions truthfully. I didn’t have any proof that anything happened to Tasker. Just Charlie’s word that he would keep me safe. I thought he was exaggerating.”
“Humph.” Disgusted, Cutler turned around in his seat. Deputy Daniels pulled the car into a spot right in front of the sheriff’s office. “Have you had any contact with him since he disappeared?”
This time, I had my Master’s order to strengthen my response. “No.”
Daniels opened my door and I started to get out, but he took my arm. It was an innocent, gentlemanly move, but it alarmed me enough I looked up at his face. Instead of the deputy’s nice, general concern, I got an uncomfortable vibe. Maybe my imagination, fueled by insomnia and anxiety. Or maybe something more. Maybe I’d guessed wrong about Rusk and led Charlie astray. Maybe he’d been right to suspect Daniels.
“Are you sure about that?”
I held his gaze defiantly. Sheba started to growl. “I said no. I haven’t had any contact with Charles MacNiall.”
Funny, I didn’t need his order for that, because I knew he wasn’t MacNiall any longer. He’d dropped that name and moved on already.
Daniels released my arm and stepped away, inclining his head slightly. “Sorry, Sheba. Just helping the lady out of the car.”
Sheba didn’t buy it. And neither did I.
* * *
At least they didn’t make me look at the body, though a picture of Tasker’s dead face was horrid enough. Sheba sat beside me and I kept a steadying hand on her. Too bad she couldn’t ID his scent from that picture to be sure. “I think that’s him.”
Sheriff Cutler was fast becoming exasperated with me. “Think?”
“He’s an average-looking white guy. Sometimes they’re hard to tell apart.”
Maybe he thought I was joking, or making a racist statement. “So you often need help telling men apart?”
“I don’t look at men’s faces very often.” I made myself small, like Charlie’d suggested. Helpless, innocent. “It’s hard for a woman like me to meet a man’s gaze. It’s uncomfortable for me.”
“But you got a real good look at MacNiall, right?”
“Yeah. He’s different.”
“Help me understand that, Miss Killian. How’s he different from Tasker? A man you felt threatened by, and now you can’t positively ID him to my satisfaction.”
“It’s hard to explain. I can feel Charlie enter a room before I see him, and I’d know it was him by the way he feels.”
“So now you’re psychic too?”
“I didn’t say I could hear his thoughts,” I retorted, rolling my eyes. “I can feel him. He has a certain presence, a force of will that tugs on my consciousness. Tasker didn’t have that. He was an average-looking guy who got a little mean with me. He yelled at me. He jerked on my arm like he was going to try and get me in his car. I didn’t sit down and take a moment to sketch his face. I got the hell out of Dodge as quickly as possible.”
“But a guy threatens to kill anyone that hurts you and you don’t get the hell out of Dodge?”
“He was protecting me. I didn’t think he’d actually do it.”
“Help me understand why a guy who puts bruises on his girlfriend would also protect you,” Daniels said.
I glanced at him, sitting on the corner of his boss’s desk, trying again to sense any wrongness from him. He seemed different. Almost judgmental or less understanding, but not dangerous. Had Rusk gotten to him?
Or maybe he’d done a little digging into my past and didn’t like what he’d learned.
I could imagine how it’d gone down. No one had ever called the police on me, to my knowledge, but I had ended up in the hospital a few days when they’d first brought me home. If he’d called my parents, or Sam, and asked for some details, they probably would have told him the whole sordid story. About how I’d hooked up with a guy online, lived as his slave, and then almost attempted suicide when he broke up with me. How I’d been so loaded up on medications for a year that I could barely remember my own name.
Mental illness has an awful stigma, even in our so-called civilized world.
I refused to let that old shadow cling to me any longer. I’d come through that awful history and survived. I’d survived losing Charlie. And I’d survive whatever they threw at me now, waiting for Charlie to finish his contract. Fuck ‘em. Fuck ’em all.
“He’s my Master.” I said it softly but without dropping my eyes. I wouldn’t show shame. Not about this. “Do you have any idea what that means?”
“No, I don’t,” Cutler said, sitting up straighter with a frown.
“He’s my Master. I’m his slave. On top of that, I’m a masochist. He’s a sadist, arguably the meanest, most talented sadist I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. And it’s all one hundred percent consensual.”
The two cops looked at each other. Cutler didn’t get it, but Daniels did, and he was blushing. It struck me as so funny that I laughed out loud.
“Yeah, that’s right,” I said, shaking my head. “I get off on pain. He hurts me during sex and I love it. I scream all the more. The more bruises, the better. I can take any punishment he dishes out and beg him for more and absolutely mean it. I’ll love it. Whatever he decides to do.”
“So let me get this straight. MacNiall hurt you, often, and you enjoyed it, but you were scared of Tasker even though all he did was grab your arm?”
I was so close to saying fuck it all (out loud) and walking out. I didn’t owe them an explanation. I wasn’t under arrest. They weren’t my judge and jury. I’d cooperated to the point I’d probably be sick later when I realized how much I’d told them about Charlie.
“Yeah, that’s exactly right.” I stood up and gave them both a steady, level glare. “Am I done here?”
“If you hear anything from MacNiall, we need to know immediately.” Cutler stood, sharing a reluctant look with his deputy. They didn’t want me to leave. I didn’t care much. “He’s wanted for questioning in this murder.”
“Stand in line, gentlemen,” Special Agent Matheson said at the door. “MacNiall is of high interest to the FBI now. Miss Killian, if you’re ready, I can take you home.”
“Thank you. Gentlemen.” Head high, I followed her outside with Sheba on my heels. I’d rather go with her, even if Rusk was along for the ride, than deal with those two ignorant jerks a moment longer.
But her car was empty. She got behind the wheel and I let Sheba in the back so I could sit up front with her. “Where’s your partner?”
“He had to return the rental car. I’ll pick him up in a bit from his hotel room and grab a bite to eat. Do you want to join us?”
Matheson backed out and pulled into traffic. We crawled down the main drag and made the turnoff onto the blacktop into the country. I hated this time of year. So cold, and dark enough already for headlights. I couldn’t wait until spring. Or maybe I’d be somewhere warm with Charlie by then. “No, that’s fine. A bit of quiet time would be nice right now.”
“I ran those emails you got through our tech guys. They haven’t figured out where the first one came from, but t
he second one used an IP address that we could easily track down.”
The way she hesitated told me I wasn’t going to like the answer. “Let me guess. Charlie’s house?”
“You got it. Are you sure it’s not him?”
“When we get there, pull up the wifi addresses on your phone. It’s so obvious, it’s not even funny, and the password is sheba. Anyone who knew anything at all about me or him could get into his network.”
“Why would he make it so easy?”
I sighed. “He made it easy for me to figure out. He knew he’d be gone, eventually, and I’d be on my own.”
“So you’re planning to stay on in his house?”
“I can’t keep Sheba in my teeny tiny apartment. She’s happier in the country with plenty of room to roam.”
Matheson slowed down, unfamiliar with the curvy country roads. “Will you be okay financially?”
“If that’s your polite way of asking if he left me money, then yeah, he did leave a little. Enough to pay the utilities for a while.”
“But not enough to hightail it to the Caribbean, huh?”
“Hardly.” Though he promised we would go somewhere warm. “I’ll be okay. He made sure of it.”
“You handled yourself well back there. I have to admit that it surprised me.”
I smiled in the darkness, glad she couldn’t see my face. “It surprised me a little too. I’m just tired of being ashamed for how I am. I can’t help what I need. I’m tired of everyone judging me for it.”
“Those dead girls couldn’t help what they needed either,” Matheson reminded me.
I clutched my coat shut, even though she had the heater on full blast. “Yeah. Sometimes the need overcomes the head. I’ve been there. I’ve done stupid shit that would freak my parents out. Hell, if Charlie knew, he’d...”
Matheson glanced over at me quickly. “What?”
I quirked my lips and shrugged. “Let’s just say he’d punish me severely and leave it at that.” And he’d probably add a few more names to his kill list.
We came around a sharp corner and there was a huge branch lying in the road. “Look out!” I cried out.
To her credit, Matheson didn’t slam on the brakes, but pumped them, trying to slow down. We weren’t going that fast, but the rear end of the car shot to the left, sending us in a spin. “Hold on!”
My seat belt caught me, and panic surged through me. Sheba wasn’t belted in. I tried to turn my head to check on her, but the car spun so hard, so fast, I couldn’t see her. A dark blur loomed in my window and then we crashed into a tree with a sickening crunch. My head slammed into the glass in an explosion of light, but the window didn’t break. Sheba yelped and hit the back of my seat. The car rocked again, sliding a bit more, and finally came to a rest.
Matheson leaned over and shone a light in my face. “You okay? Ranay? Can you hear me?”
Wincing, I covered my eyes and turned my head. “Yeah, just banged up. What happened?”
“Ice. There was a sheet of ice across that entire corner. I’m going to get out and see how bad it is. Are we close to your house?”
“Yeah, just around the corner.”
I undid my seat belt and turned around, looking for Sheba. She licked my face, so at least she was up. I hoped she hadn’t torn her stitches open. Dr. Wentworth would kill me.
Matheson tapped on the glass beside my head. The engine was still running, so I rolled my window down a crack. “It’s not bad. If you can help me push up out of the ditch, we can make it.”
I tugged on my gloves and zipped up my coat. “Yeah, sure.”
My door creaked and groaned but wouldn’t open, so I crawled across the console and got out on the driver’s side. My head throbbed, but I didn’t feel light-headed. I felt the side of my head, but it was hard to tell with gloves on—I think I had a bump but no blood. Hopefully no concussion. I edged down the side of the car, holding on to the door handles to keep from busting my ass. It was a solid sheet of ice. Like a mini spring had opened up and poured across the road.
Matheson wasn’t so lucky. She started to slip, grabbed at the bumper, and fell hard. “Son of a bitch. Where’d all this ice come from?”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I drive this road to work every day. It wasn’t icy this morning.”
She gingerly climbed to her feet and half skated, half slid away from the car toward the branch in the road. “Let me guess. This wasn’t here earlier either.”
“Nope.”
She bent down and looked at the broken branch. “Looks pretty fresh.”
Slowly, she stood and scanned the woods. With a start, I realized she’d drawn her gun, though she held it close to her side. “Ranay, I want you to get Sheba and head for the house. I’ll be right behind you.”
A shadow unfolded from the tree we’d crashed into and slammed into Matheson. It hit her in the back, taking her down to the ground. I whirled toward the car, hoping to get the door open for Sheba, but I slipped on the ice and hit so hard I couldn’t breathe. I tasted blood. My lip throbbed, a different tempo than my pounding head. Groaning, I tried to get up, swimming through blackness. I was so close. If I could get Sheba out...
“Run!” Matheson yelled. Her gun went off, a deafening roar that made me duck.
Sheba barked, slamming against the door. I tried to get her again, and something whizzed past my head and tinged against the door. Terror shrilled through me. I couldn’t bear to see her shot again. Not for me.
Keeping low, I crawled toward the edge of the ice, slipping and sliding as quickly as possible. Charlie’s house. My fortress. That’s where I needed to be. As soon as I could get to my feet, I raced for his house without looking back to see who followed.
Please, Charlie. Be close. Be there. Waiting for me.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I raced up the front steps and then ducked down in the shadows of the porch. My chest burned, tight in the freezing air. Running sucked any day, but especially in subzero temps. I’d probably end up with bronchitis.
I scanned the road behind me, the row of trees. Nothing moved. But he could have cut across the woods and beat me to the house. For all I knew, he was already here. Gasping, I tried to think. I didn’t have my keys. I’d left my purse in the car with Sheba. At least she was okay. He hadn’t fired after I fled the scene. I hoped Matheson was okay. Hopefully she could get up here or at least call for backup.
Safety waited inside the house. Once I reset the alarm, if anyone tried to get in, the police would be on their way. Assuming he wasn’t already inside the house, waiting for me to show up. He’d been able to get around the alarm before, at least until Sheba attacked him.
Charlie could be here. He’d said he was close. But how close? Had he heard the shots? Did he have any idea what was going down?
Staying low, I reached up and tested the door knob. It turned easily and the door cracked. The alarm beeped to notify the opening door, but the siren wasn’t triggered. The system was off.
Fuck. I knew for a fact I’d locked the door and set the alarm system. Charlie could have opened it for me, but how would he know I’d temporarily lost my keys? More likely, it was the killer, the man who’d broken in once already. It could have been Rusk in the woods, but I’d never seen him. He’d been a black blur, even his face.
If he’d set that trap to get me away from Matheson and Sheba at once, then he’d be here. He wanted me in the house. But where else could I go?
I dug in my pocket and pulled out the slim knife. I didn’t flip the blade out. Not yet. But I’d be ready.
Pushing the door open, I scurried inside as quietly as possible. I pressed my back against the wall and tried to breathe shallowly, quietly, waiting to let my eyes adjust to the interior. No lights shone anywhere inside, not even the microwave clock or the fridge light in the kitchen. Since I was still by the door, I reached up over my head and found the light switch. I flicked it up and nothing happened.
No power. The ala
rm would probably still go off—the door had beeped at least—but I couldn’t count on it.
Stay small, stay quiet, stay meek and afraid. If he’s here...
I huddled against the wall, straining all my senses. Listening for any little creak of wood or shuffle. Any shadow that might hide a person. I didn’t have to wait long.
“He has excellent taste.” The voice came from the dining area. I strained my eyes, trying to see anything that would help me. The outside lights weren’t on and the moon was barely a slip in the sky. Not enough light for me to see. “I couldn’t have picked a better slave for my next conquest.”
“How did you find me?” I allowed my voice to shake. I wanted him to think I was scared to death. And I was. Even though Charlie had promised he’d never be far away. I couldn’t feel him, only a heavy, empty coldness.
“You can thank him for that. He led me straight to you, pet. Such a delicious little morsel. You’ve got spunk, though, I’ll give you that.”
His voice echoed, hollow and thin as if he was a specter. I honestly wasn’t sure that it was Rusk. He might be in the kitchen now. Or the living room. The hallway to the bedroom was on my left. I could get to Charlie’s room. But it was a trap back there. I wouldn’t be able to get out unless I went through a window.
I could leap to my feet and race outside. Try to find Matheson, assuming he hadn’t already killed her. But I wasn’t a runner. I was already exhausted and he’d be on me before I could clear the porch. Worse, he’d love a good chase before the main course.
My best bet was to play submissive and helpless to buy me time. Bring him in close, like Charlie had said.
I ducked my head and shifted onto my knees. Shaking, I pressed my face to the floor and waited to see the intruder’s reaction.
“Very nice,” he whispered. Closer, I thought. I still couldn’t be sure it was Rusk. “He’s taught you well.”
Charlie hadn’t taught me this. He’d never wanted this kind of submission. What I’d given to him had been of my own free will, my own desire to be his slave.
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