Waiting In Darkness: A Sabrina Vaughn Thriller (The Sabrina Vaughn Series Book 1)

by Maegan Beaumont

  The man was gone.

  For a moment she stood still, staring at the empty space where only moments ago, a nightmare lurked. Sure that it had been a nightmare, she clung to the thought for a few moments but the comforting lie died before she could fully believe it.

  The sound of knocking on the front door echoed down the hall even as she stared across the room at the window, slid open on its track. The music seeping under her door from her mother’s room was turned down. Kelly had heard the knock too.

  Turning toward the door, Melissa pulled at it, grabbing at the security chain but it slipped through her hands, still working against her. The knock sounded again and she opened her mouth to scream at her mother to keep the front door closed, but the second round was cut short and she heard the muffled voice of her mother talking.

  Lunging across the room, she shoved the window closed, pushing the lock into place. She was at the door again, checking the locks to make sure they were secure. The talking stopped and the front door was shut, followed by the sound of her mother moving down the hall. Melissa felt relief wash through her. Her mother was with another man. She’d turned him away...

  But the feeling was short lived as her ear caught the sound of heavy foot falls down the hall, stopping in front of her door. Instead of turning him away, Kelly let him inside.

  FIFTEEN

  HE KNOCKED LOUDLY BEFORE taking a step back, folding his hands together inside the pocket of his borrowed hoodie. Doing so reminded him of its previous owner. The fact that he was either dead or very close to dying, naked on the side of the road not more than a hundred yards away.

  The thought made him smile.

  Movement from inside the trailer, moments before the door was opened just a crack. Too many wives had shown up on her doorstep looking for their husbands for Kelly to be anything but cautious. The second she saw him, her entire demeanor changed. She cocked her hip to the side, offering a glorious side view of her ass, barely concealed by the short, tight spandex skirt she wore.

  “Oh,” Kelly purred, lowering the lids of her wide blue eyes as she took in the sight of him. “It’s you. Been a while since you knocked… usually you just walk right in.”

  “I’m in the mood for something different,” he said, coming toward her, letting his hand coast up her bare thigh until it was under that pitiful excuse for a skirt. She wasn’t wearing underwear.

  “I got a cust—” she started but winced to a stop when he dug his fingers into the junction of her thighs. Even though he knew perfectly well that she fucked other men for money, he didn’t want to hear about it. “I have a guest.” She corrected, fighting to keep the fear out of her voice.

  A fifty-dollar bill appeared in his free hand while the other worked its fingers deep inside her. “Get rid of him,” he said. Pain and pleasure streaked across her face, mixing with the fear that was always there when she was with him. It was an intoxicating combination. One that stiffened his cock instantly.

  The hand he had between her legs was rough but she didn’t pull away. Didn’t ask him to stop. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the money he offered.

  “Like I said, I’m in the mood for something different tonight,” he said, tucking the folded bill inside her bra before he withdrew his hand and pushed past her into the kitchen.

  Kelly shut the front door and walked across the kitchen, moving to pull down the skirt that had worked its way up her thighs. “Leave it,” he told her and she did as he said. With a lewd look thrown over her shoulder, Kelly walked to her bedroom reveling in the feel of his eyes nailed to her naked ass.

  As soon as her door clicked shut and the music was turned back on, he left the kitchen and walked down the short hallway, past the room where Motley Crew did little to drown out the sounds of sex, toward where he knew Melissa was waiting for him. Pausing briefly in the bathroom doorway he breathed deep, the smell of her shampoo and soap—peaches—still clung to the damp air.

  One of her waitress uniforms hung on the back of the door and he touched it. Slid his hand up, inside the skirt, imagining she was in it.

  He made his way further down the hall, his footfalls heavy and deliberate as they came to a stop in front of her door. She’d been there, pressed against it only minutes before and he felt her there now, could hear the sound of her breathing on the other side. She’d been wearing a thin white tank top and white cotton panties, her hair loose and tousled with sleep, eyes wide with fear. Remembering, he breathed deeply again. The smell of her fear was far more intoxicating than her shampoo.

  He twisted the doorknob back and forth, stirring her fear, sending the swirling scent of it his way, carried to him on the small scream she fought to stifle. He could hear her ragged breath through the door, the frightened hitch of it. She knew he was there, inches away from her and that if he wanted to, he could have her. He whispered to her, letting her know he knew she was listening—waiting for him.

  Behind him, Kelly’s bedroom door opened then shut. He didn’t turn around to see who it was. Kelly’s johns took care not to see each other—it made church picnics and Saturday night varsity football games much easier that way. The front door opened and shut, signaling his predecessor’s exist.

  With a quiet chuckle he turned away and retraced his steps until he found himself outside Kelly’s door. He pushed it open without knocking and didn’t bother to close it. She was standing by the side of the bed waiting for him, Motley Crew wailing about Girls! Girls! Girls!, her auburn hair soft and loose, floating around her delicate shoulders.

  Without a word he walked to her nightstand and turned the radio off. He wanted to make sure his Melissa heard what was about to happen.

  Kelly knew how to make herself look good. That the dim lighting of her bedroom made her look ten years younger. Made her look like her daughter and she smiled sweetly. He approached her slowly, intimidating and exciting her in equal turns. He could see her fear and apprehension building with every step, at total odds with the lust that lurked in her eyes.

  She was afraid. He could smell it, beneath the sour booze and cloying aroma of marijuana that clung to the air. He hadn’t paid in a while—she’d stopped making him not long after he started seeing her, but she was smart. The fifty he’d stuffed in her bra was enough to tell her what he wanted might be more than she was willing to give. He could see that the thought of it both frightened and excited her.

  Her eyes flickered over the blood on his jeans and borrowed sweatshirt. He could see she wanted to ask what happened but he knew she wouldn’t. Asking would run the risk of him telling her. Kelly was too smart to put herself at risk like that.

  He looked down at the blood that covered him before offering her a lopsided grin. “I killed me a fry cook tonight.” He reached up with blood-streaked hands and pulled the sweatshirt over his head, dropping it on her floor. “Bashed his skull in with a rock and then I stabbed him. A lot.”

  Saying nothing, Kelly reached out and traced her fingertips over his pecs, letting them drift lower, toward the button on his jeans but her hands were shaking. Fear was winning over lust. The only way to survive was to pretend she hadn’t heard him and she knew it.

  “Tell me what you want, baby,” she cooed at him, working his pants down around his thighs, she reached her hand into the open fly of his pants to close a skilled hand around his cock. Usually he told her what to do, what to say and she did it but this time he just stared at her until she dropped her gaze. “Let me make you—”

  “Don’t touch me,” he growled at her, closing a bloodied hand around the back of her neck, pulling her away from him. He piloted her toward the bed, shoving her onto it, ass in the air. Yanking her skirt up, he found white cotton panties.

  This was the only thing about the game that stayed the same. The only constant that was required of her when they were together. He ran his hand over them gently—almost reverently and she seemed to relax. The fear abated. But it wouldn’t last. He’d make sure of it.

  Reach
ing into the pocket of his jeans he pulled out his knife, flicking it open. Hearing the sound, Kelly went still and stiff. “What was that?” she said, her face mashed against the well-used sheets of her bed. “Please don’t…”

  He ran the tip of it along the inside of her thigh, making the slightest of cuts—a thin red line that stretched from knee to cleft. The knife was a new addition to their game, one he’d considered regularly but never had the guts to introduce. Until now. Seeing the red ribbon of blood welling against the pale skin of her thigh added an edge to his arousal. One he hadn’t expected.

  “I don’t care about what you did to that kid. I swear I won’t tell—” Kelly tried to raise her head but the iron grip he had on her neck kept her face pushed into the rumpled sheets.

  “Who do you belong to,” he said quietly, sliding the blade between her skin and the panties she wore, working it along the curve of her thigh until it was nestled against her slit.

  “You,” she said, her voice quavering so bad she had to take a deep breath and start over. “I belong to you.”

  “That’s right,” he said, pressing the flat of his knife against her, dazzled by the way she transformed before his eyes. “You’re mine, Melissa.” One hand fisted in her hair, bringing her face up off the bed, while the other twisted the knife’s handle, the blade’s razor edge catching against the thin cotton, slicing it cleanly in two. “You’re my girl, forever.”

  He could smell her arousal, the heavy musk of it mixed with the drugs and fear. Could feel the heat of it as she tried to push herself against his erection. She wanted it. The fear. The pain. Kelly wanted all of it. He cut her again and she cried out as he forced himself into her. He cut her while he fucked her, the blood it brought accompanied by the fast pounding of his hips.

  Again and again. Until he had to clamp a hand over her mouth to quiet her screams. Beneath her muffled wails, a single word pounded relentlessly in his brain. Sang through his blood, over and over until it fused them together. Made them one.

  Mine.

  SIXTEEN

  WAKING STIFF AND SORE, Melissa lifted her head from her knees with a start, her eyes immediately finding the window across the room from where she sat. It was still closed and latched but there was something on it. A word.

  SOON

  She knew without having to look closer that it was written in blood. Her mother’s blood.

  Thinking about last night, fresh tears started to spill down her cheeks and her head began to pound an even rhythm with her heart, fast and hard.

  What she’d heard last night was far uglier and repulsive than anything she’d ever listened to before. What her mother usually did behind closed doors with the men that paid her shamed and embarrassed her but last night...

  She’d been pressed against the door, afraid to move, knowing that Kelly had let in whoever had been outside her window.

  She heard him breathing, deep and even, as if he was trying to draw her into his lungs and then suddenly the door knob rattled. Her hands flew to her mouth of their own volition, smothering the scream that tried to leap through her clenched teeth.

  Her breath came in short, painful gasps and she was sure her heart would stop inside her chest, without stutter or stall, as a single word was uttered.

  Soon

  Separated by inches, they stood pressed against the wood that divided them and she was suddenly struck with the certainty that she knew him. Whoever he was, she’d seen him smiling at the diner. He had held the door for her at the corner market. Offered her his place in line at the bank. She knew him… and that scared her more than anything else.

  The sound of his receding footsteps had her sagging against the door with relief. Down the hall she heard Kelly’s bedroom door open with a muffled bang, the rock music her mother favored absorbing the sound of it but then it was gone and the silence that engulfed her brought her a new kind of horror.

  She understood instantly. She was being made to listen. There was nothing, just an ugly silence that wanted to swallow her, stretching out until her nerves were thin and tight, her eyes squeezed shut, mouth moving in soundless prayer. She heard Kelly begin to speak but before she finished her first word it was cut off. There was a scuffle—the rustled of bed sheets. Her mother’s voice pitched high with fear, begging. The quiet murmur of a male voice, low and urgent.

  And then Kelly started screaming. She was screaming, the sound filled with pain and terror. Like she was dying.

  New sounds entered the fray and these sounds she knew. Covering her ears, Melissa dropped herself into the corner against the door, the grunts and moans turning her inside out—violating her. Making her feel sick and used. The sounds that assaulted her began to take shape, forming themselves into a single word, over and over.

  Mine

  He was speaking to her. Telling her that whatever was happening in her mother’s room, whatever was being done to Kelly was meant for her.

  Melissa wondered if the sounds would be enough for their neighbors to finally call the police, but she knew that even if someone did call, no one would come. Chief Bauer didn’t bother himself with what went on where Kelly was concerned. She was allowed to turn tricks without interference but the price was that when things went wrong, she was on her own.

  She thought of her bat, propped against the wall, behind the front door. To get to it, she’d have to pass by her mother’s room. He’d see her. Besides, retrieving it meant leaving the twins unprotected. She could gather the twins, sneak out them out the window, run to Mrs. Kirkland’s. She’d let her in… she dismissed it almost as soon as the idea came to her. There was no way she’d be able to run through the woods at one o’clock in the morning with two toddlers in tow without making noise. They’d cry. Draw his attention. She was stuck, right where she was. And he knew it.

  Scrambling across the floor, she reached under her pillow, searching for the multi-tool she’d left there. Her hands were shaking badly, so badly that she cut herself when she was finally able to wedge the knife attachment open from its handle. It was short, no longer than her finger but it was sharp. Driving herself into the corner, she pressed her back into it and waited.

  It seemed to go on for hours but the glaring red numbers on her bedside clock were frozen in place. Less than a minute after the screaming started, it stopped.

  The radio was clicked back on, Guns & Roses picking up where Motley Crew left off. The door was clicked shut, muffling Axle’s whine and the footsteps came her way again, accompanied by a jaunty whistle.

  She was sure he was coming for her but the footsteps stopped short and a few moments later light from the bathroom, weak and watery, reached for her beneath the door, brushing against her toes. She pulled herself inward, tightening the ball she crouched in. He was standing in that light, she didn’t want it to touch her.

  The water came on and she could hear the sounds of vigorous washing, mixed with his whistling. The water was shut off and with a snap the light was gone. She was sure the footsteps would come back for her but they receded, finding their way back the way they had come. They did not pause at Kelly’s door—whatever had been done there did not bear re-visiting.

  The front door was opened then shut, signaling that it was over, the last trills of his whistling followed him out, leaving in its place a silence that was both blessed and malignant.

  She moved to unlock the door but her hands stalled on the locks, fear and apprehension rooting her in place. What if he was still out there? What if he’d only pretended to leave to draw her out? If he was still out there, he would do to her far worse things than what had been done to her mother, she was sure of it. What would happen to Jason and Riley? It was a horrible choice but she made it without hesitation.

  Jason and Riley were hers to protect, if she was gone they would have no one. She sank down onto the floor, as far out of reach as she could make herself...

  Now she sat, staring at her window—at what was written there. She fixed her grainy eyes on the clock
. It was nearly 6 AM.

  The twins were babbling softly to one another, speaking a language all their own. How they managed to sleep through last night was a mystery to her. The trailer sounded like it always did before noon. Quiet. Almost normal. It halfway convinced her that whatever had happened, it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

  Standing, she dropped the multi-tool onto her night stand and unlocked the door. With a silent prayer, she pulled it open just a crack, listening for footsteps. Whistling. Any sound that would warn her she was in danger but nothing came back to her and after a few moments, she widened the crack in the doorway and stepped into the hall.

  In the bathroom, there was blood in the sink. On the counter. Streaks of it covered a towel that had been folded neatly and threaded through the towel bar. Without thinking about where it had come from, Melissa mopped it up, the sight of it churning her stomach. She just wanted it gone. To keep pretending that what she’d heard last night wasn’t real.

  Melissa forced herself down the hall to Kelly’s room. The door stood open, her eyes instantly drawn to the bed. She usually avoided this room at all costs, the purpose it served was too much for her to face but she entered it now without pause, drawn inside by the stains that covered the bed and walls.

  Her mother was gone but what was left of her had turned a dark, rusty red in her absence. The only thing Kelly took pride in beside her appearance was her bed. The mattress was high quality—the sheets Egyptian cotton, a crisp white that could be easily bleached but looking at the blood-soaked tangle, Melissa knew that no amount of bleach would get rid of it. Nothing else was out of place, there were no signs of a struggle. The stool that sat in front of her mother’s vanity stood upright, the lamp on her nightstand was not overturned.