Everything in her world stopped. Everything in her world ended.
Her knees gave way, and every bone in her body went soft. A sound, a scream, a howl ripped its way from the center of her being. Her knees hit the floor, splashing still warm blood over her clothes, her face. She sat there, panting, all human thought gone. Unthinking she crawled through the blood to the front door and somehow managed to get it open. Still on all-fours, she managed to make it to the middle of the front lawn before collapsing. Isaac’s face was a mask of horror as he took in her blood-covered form. She curled into a fetal position, her mind shut down. Catatonic.
“Christ, Sarah…. what? What happened?” Isaac’s voice, frantic sounded hollow to her, an echo in an empty hall. She didn’t even feel it when Isaac lifted her into his arms and took her to the car.
***
Finn came out of the house, his face white, shocked. He pulled Isaac away from the ambulance as he argued with the paramedics. Sarah was refusing to be taken to the hospital and the paramedics were trying to persuade her otherwise.
“Isaac, let them look after her. You need to see this.”
He followed Finn into the house, the smell of the blood, of flesh starting to decompose hitting him. He balked at the entrance of the kitchen, and when he did take a step into the room, he clamped a hand over his nose. George was laid out on the kitchen table, his eyes open and staring, his face contorted in unimaginable agony. His torso was split from his throat down to his groin and his organs, his intestines spilled out over his body, his blood covered the floor, congealing, the stench of iron and death. There were stab marks all over his body, his face, and his head.
Isaac gagged. “Jesus.”
Finn nodded. “I know. But that’s not what I need you to see. The killer left a message for Sarah.” He nodded to the far wall. From his position, Isaac couldn’t see what he was indicating. He moved into the room a little more, wincing as his shoes squeaked in the blood, looked up at where Finn was pointing and his heart stopped.
Photographs of Sarah. Hundreds, maybe thousands, layer upon layer of them. In most of them, she wasn’t looking at the camera, some obviously taken from a distance, some from awkward angles. She was smiling in most, oblivious to the camera, or talking to someone else. Photos of Isaac and Sarah together. In one they were holding hands, laughing at one of their silly jokes, aprons on, lording it over the barbecue as if they were cordon bleu chefs. That one was at the house, her house. He tried to figure out the angle the picture was taken from. It wasn’t hard. The photographer must have been in the tree line. Photos where he could see members of his own family in the background.
Then he saw the photos in the center of the collage and his heart began to thump, a wave of nausea rising in his throat. Sarah. Dead. Murdered. Stabbed, shot, strangled. They were obviously photo-shopped images of her head on the bodies of murdered women but it didn’t lessen the horror of imagining her like that. It would have been clear what the threat was even without the most damning evidence.
In George’s blood, smeared in dark gobs across the wall.
You are next…
Here, Today, Then…Part Two:
The smell hit him and he gagged. His stomach constricted with dread. He knew what that smell meant. Taking a deep breath, he went in. The trailer was in darkness, the stench of death overpowering. He heard the buzz of flies, flicked on his torch, hand on his service revolver just in case.
The woman was slumped naked in a chair at the far end of the trailer. On the floor beside her was a long-handled razor. Her wrists and her throat were hacked to shreds. Her blood sprayed across the table in front of her, the cabinets and the worn banquette. It pooled on the floor.
“You see anything”?”
The nosy neighbor who called it in. He ignored him and slowly moved the light around the room. The woman was pretty, Chinese, he thought, her long black hair hung in the blood on the floor, her onyx eyes cloudy and distant. He shook his head. Waste. He took in the mess on the countertops. Behind him the door to bedroom stood ajar. He poked his head in, not wanting to disturb anything. The scene of crime officers would be here soon and he’d have to account for everything he touched. The torch’s beam picked out the bed, the nightstand, condoms and lube. So the neighbor had been right. The dead woman had been a pro. He sighed. To him, it didn’t make a difference what she did.
Waste.
He stepped out into the kitchen again and shone his light across the table at the far end. Two plates, half eaten sandwiches, a glass, a bottle of vodka, pills, a sippy cup.
A sippy cup.
His heart leaped in his chest and that’s when he heard it. A whisper…or a song?
I got the joy joy joy joy down in my heart…
He could barely make it out. He flicked his torch beam under the table and saw a tiny foot. He dropped to his knees, not caring if they were in the blood. He shone the light into the corner and saw her.
The child. Not more than five years old. She blinked at him with wide, dark, frightened eyes.
“Hey,” his voice was soft. “Hey, sweet girl…hey. Don’t be scared.”
The girl was dressed only in a vest and underwear. Soaked with blood. He held out a hand for her to take. She stared at it and pushed herself further into the corner. He smiled at her kindly.
“It’s okay, honey. I’m a police officer. Do you know what that is?”
Still staring at him, she nodded slowly. Then his heart gave a lurching twist as he saw her arms. Slashes at her tiny wrists. Every emotion came then: anger, rage, heartbreak. Tenderness. He smiled at her again.
“Will you come out for me, sweet girl? Come let me see your hands, make them all better?”
He didn’t know why she came but she did – she crawled, albeit slowly, towards him and didn’t protest when he swung her up into his arms. She was a tiny little thing, dark brown hair, skin lighter than the dead woman”s. He would have bet the farm that the father was long gone if the woman had even known who he was. The girl stared up at him, his dark brown skin shining in the torch light. She touched his face as if she couldn’t believe he was really there.
“What’s your name, sweet girl?”
Her mouth moved but he didn’t hear anything.
“I’m sorry I didn’t hear what you said. Would it help if I told you my name?” He wasn’t sure if she understood him now. He pulled his identification card from his pocket and showed it to her. She touched the picture then his face and he nodded, smiling.
“That’s right, that’s me. My name is George G-E-O-R-G-E. George. My last name is Madrigal, like the song. Do you know your name, sweet girl?”
She nodded slowly, bent to his ear and whispered. George smiled at her.
“I’m very glad to meet you…,” He brushed some hair out of her eyes.”…very glad indeed, my sweet girl Sarah.”
Now…
When Sarah closed her eyes, she could still see him. Smell the blood. See his intestines, his organs, his lungs torn out of him, dripping ooze and gore onto the linoleum.
Now, covered in a white sheet, his face “repaired” by the mortician, she stared down at the face of the only father she’d ever known. She volunteered to formally identify George’s body so no-one else would have to see him torn apart like that. She wasn’t allowed to touch him but she bent down and whispered “I’m sorry” into his ear.
She felt Isaac’s big hand warm against her back. “Sweetheart?” she turned and he gathered her against him. She couldn’t cry anymore, her eyes were red raw, her throat tinder-dry but the feeling of Isaac’s arms around her gave her comfort. She felt his lips pressed against her forehead.
“Let’s go home, baby.”
She nodded and soon they were back at his apartment. He made her take a hot bath then go to bed, stretching out beside her, stroking her face until she fell asleep.
***
The Mariners were losing. Finn shifted in his seat, wishing he could concentrate on the game. He and a cou
ple of his colleagues from the city were off getting hot dogs and beer, the Safeco crowd at capacity.
Finn pulled his cap over his eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sarah. She had been so hurt, so devastated it twisted in his gut when he thought about it. He’d just wanted to hold her and make it all okay for her, but Isaac had been there, and it hadn’t seemed appropriate. Weird how that worked. Sarah was his sister, his family and now there was someone in her life who filled every role for her. As long as she was happy, Finn shrugged and let out a long breath. Beside, now he had his own family to think of.
After he’d gotten home from the long hours of work, after George’s murder, Caroline had been smiling, almost giddy. Pregnant. Jesus, how the hell did that happen? He’d slept with Caroline twice in the last year. Both times, he had too much to drink. Jesus. Finn swore under his breath. He just wasn’t ready for a kid yet, not like this, not with her. Pregnant. Did he believe the baby was his? Not really. And he didn’t care if Caroline was unfaithful – he knew for a fact that she had been many, many times. Still, he couldn’t walk away knowing the child could be his. It wasn’t in his blood to abandon family.
Damn it. He leaned forward, trying to stop the bottomless ache in his heart. A copy of the Seattle Times was wedged under the seat in front of him. A photo caught his eye. He yanked it free. A headline. Brutal Slaying of Seattle Undergrad…Finn read the story quickly but his eyes kept being drawn back to the photo. Dark eyes, dark hair. She looked just like Sarah. Finn felt a wave of nausea. You’re losing it, man. But he tore the page from the rest of the newspaper and shoved it into his pocket. The nightmare scene at George’s place, the smeared blood on the walls. You are next. Someone was targeting Sarah and he was damned if he’d let anything happen to her.
“Dude, you sleeping?” Hank, one of the city cops, banged his shoulder. “You’re getting old, man.” Finn gave him a wry smile and took the beer he offered.
***
The whole community turned out for George’s funeral a week later.
Sarah held the wake at the house. Kept busy with the catering and tending to the guests, it wasn’t until late that she managed to get a moment to herself. She snuck out the back door and, kicking off her shoes, sat on the steps of the porch. She leaned against the railing and shut her eyes. The pounding grief made her chest ache. The last few days had been horrific. George’s home had been cordoned off and crime scene investigators were everywhere. The Varsity had been full of customers wanting to know what happened, all well-meaning but wearing. A few times, she had hidden out in the backroom while Molly dealt with some of more emotional ones.
From inside, she heard Isaac asking Molly if she had seen Sarah and smiled.
“Out here, baby.”
He’d been her rock, her protector this last week, through the constant questioning of the homicide detectives. Do you know any reason why someone would want to kill George Madrigal? Would want to kill you? Why didn’t you report the letters?
She thought about that now, staring over at the trees that led down to the cove, the dark boathouse at the edge of the water. So much loss. She brushed a tear away.
Isaac sat down next to her, pulled his tie apart and undid his collar. He winked at her, reaching out and running his hand lightly down the back of her head. She leaned into his touch.
“How are you holding up, darling?”
She nodded again. “Okay. What about you?”
“Same.” He gave her a sad smile. “You did well though, lovely service, nice wake.”
“Least I could do.” Her voice had a catch in it.
Isaac frowned and leaned his face closer to hers. “Hey.” She looked at him. He put his head on the side and smiled. “It’s not your fault.” He slid his hand onto the back of her neck. There were tears in her eyes. She brushed them away as they dropped down her cheeks. Isaac pressed his lips against her temple. “I love you.”
She leaned into him for a moment. “And I, you.” She looked at Isaac, sleek in his dark suit and smiled.
“You look handsome in a suit.”
He grinned, cocky. “Oh, I know.” They both laughed softly then he pressed his lips to hers. “I’m so, so sorry, Sarah. I can’t imagine what this has been like for you. I wish I had gotten to know George a little better.”
Sarah smiled. “He was the sweetest man, the sweetest person I ever met. Honestly, you won’t find anyone with a bad word to say. You would have loved him too, Isaac. There wasn’t anyone he wouldn’t have helped, or tried to make their lives better.”
Her expression turned somber.
“I can’t begin to imagine how much you miss him.” Isaac’s hand on her arm.
“I do miss him. Every day.” She turned to him, her eyes serious. “I just wish I had reported the letters but they seemed like such a petty little thing, I didn’t want to make a fuss.”
Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “And I hate myself every day for that. It’s just…” – she sighed heavily – “It’s not fair, he should still be here.”
Isaac studied her face for a long moment. “You think you should have been the one to die, instead of him.”
She nodded. Isaac shifted across the step and put his arm around her shoulders. “There’s only one person to blame and that’s the psycho who’s doing this.”
She smiled weakly. “What I don’t get is… why not just kill me? If I’m the one he or she is after, just kill me.”
Isaac blanched at her words. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again, Sarah. Ever. Jesus.”
He pulled away from her and got up. She watched as he paced around the porch then looked down at her. “Do you honestly think I could go on without you? You are my love, Sarah, my life. Nothing is going to happen to you.”
He sucked in a deep breath then held out his hands. She took them and he pulled her to her feet. “Promise me,” Isaac said softly, “that we’re in this together. We’ll fight this together.”
She pressed her lips to his. “I promise, Isaac. I love you.”
He took her back to the city that night. Sarah had told him she didn’t want to be near the island for a few days and with Molly, they’d agreed the Varsity should close for a week. Sarah had insisted on paying Molly more than double for her enforced vacation but Molly had waved her away.
“No way chuckles. This is family time. We need this.”
As the elevator ascended to Isaac’s penthouse, they kissed, tenderly, gently at first then as they walked into the living room, Sarah began to unbutton his shirt, her breath hitching in her throat. Isaac grabbed her hands to stop them, searching her eyes with his intense gaze.
“Are you sure…?”
Sarah stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips firmly against his. “Make me forget, Isaac, make this night about love, and happiness, and…”
She never finished the sentence. With a groan, Isaac pulled her into his arms, kissing her fiercely as he stripped her before sweeping her up into his arms and into the bedroom.
***
Finn looked up and out of the window. His mood worsened when he saw Caroline walk to their car and get in. Probably off to see one of her playthings. He really, really, didn’t care.
“Go ahead and leave me,” he muttered to himself. “I don’t want anything from you.”
He saw Caroline swing the car around and head across the island.
He closed his eyes. The last few weeks had taken its toll on him; worrying about Sarah, grief over George’s murder. Who the hell would do that to another human begin? And why for the love of god would anyone want to hurt Sarah? Sarah who never had an unkind word for anyone (except Caroline, Finn smirked to himself, but his wife’s constant antagonism made her fair game). Sarah, who had finally, finally found someone who was worthy of her love, her good heart. Finn liked Isaac Quinn very much. After Sarah had found George, he and Isaac had worked together to hold her together, get her out of there, home, safe. And now someone wanted to kill her. Why?
<
br /> He pushed a thought away. It’s because she’s beautiful, dumbass. It’s a matter of possession, obsession, and madness. No. No. Something, a scintilla flashed across his mind.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out the newspaper story he’d ripped from the paper He looked at the girl in the picture. Young, pretty Asian American girl, stabbed to death in Seattle. No apparent motive. A thrill kill, the police said, a sex crime. Finn knew he was clutching at straws but he flicked on his computer and started a search. He’d done this so many times since Dan had disappeared, each time finding nothing on the guy but each time hoping there would be something. A lead. A clue to where he was and where he’d been. Had Molly been right? Had he come back? You’re reaching, buddy. Finn gritted his teeth and turned to the screen.
He started a nationwide search. Sexual assaults, harassment cases. Finn considered for a moment and added “murders.” He knew he was being unreasonable, that his dislike of Dan was mostly because of the way the man had treated Sarah, but he decided if he was going to search anyway.
Victim profile: Female, twenty to thirty-five, petite build, long brown hair, brown eyes. Asian-American.”
He set the search going and reached for the phone. Time to start at the beginning. Dan was from Louisiana – according to what he’d told Sarah, anyway. Tapping out the number, he waited.
“New Orleans Police Department, how may I direct your call?”
Dirty Little Virgin: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel Page 119