Deadly Games

by Karen Rock

  If he’d wanted to keep up with the Joneses, he’d passed them. The expensive subdivision screamed old money and class.

  What drew him here?

  As kids from the wrong side of the tracks, they’d tried to fit in and prove themselves. She’d run with the fast crowd at prep school and now Robby neighbored among the Dallas elite. Sympathy welled. Despite his attempt to belong, he still lived behind a wall, hiding himself, insecure despite his success.

  At a sharp knock on her window, she jumped and pressed a hand to her heart at the sight of her friend standing beside her car. “Robby?” She swallowed back her guilt, rolled down her window, and jerked her lips into a smile.

  Rain flattened his curls so they clung to his thin face, Julius Caesar–style. His blue eyes twinkled down at her. “No. I’m the evil twin you never knew about.”

  Her mouth relaxed into a real grin. She was horrible. Even a drive-by look-see was a betrayal.

  “What are you doing here?” Water dripped off his glasses’ frames and streamed down his cheeks. Goosebumps rose on her arms at the cool mist floating through her window.

  “I—uh—” Lord. What to say that wouldn’t shake their fragile reconnection? Not the truth. He’d been treated like a freak all his life, and she wouldn’t pile on by confiding Nash suspected him as their sadistic killer.

  Thunder growled in the distance.

  “I was thinking of taking you up on your offer to network my apartment, and drove by to see if I could catch you.”

  Robby flipped up his collar against the pelting rain, his expression open and pleased despite standing out in the weather. “Well. You caught me. Come in. Let me show you around.”

  The last of her meager suspicions withered. If he hid Brittany inside, he wouldn’t invite others in…especially the lead investigator heading up the case. Plus, this was a residential area. While it was within the serial killer’s comfort zone that Nash had identified, it didn’t fit the profile of where they believed the torture and killings took place.

  Houses here weren’t separated by enough property to prevent others from overhearing screaming victims. While the wall shielded eyes, it couldn’t contain the sounds of torture. This was the kind of neighborhood where residents wouldn’t hesitate to report noise disturbances.

  The pressure in her chest eased. She ducked out into the cold, wet air, raced with Robby to the front door. Once he punched buttons on his keypad, she followed him inside.

  “Can I get you something to drink before I give you the tour? Something hot to warm you up? Coffee?”

  She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. “Sounds good, thanks. And I drink it black now.”

  “Got it.”

  She studied the spacious living room and breathed in the scent of lemony polish and stringent cleaning solution. Overhead air-conditioning vents hummed faintly in the quiet. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering at the slight chill. The place was drop-dead gorgeous. And spotless. He must have hired professional decorators. While his furnishings were tasteful, colorful, and expensive-looking, they didn’t reflect his quirky, unassuming personality. In fact, it almost resembled a hotel lobby, a place where people came and went but never lived.

  She stepped closer to a large, framed print above his fireplace. “Orion,” she muttered to herself as she stared at the constellation. “Why…?”

  Her phone vibrated, interrupting her thought.

  She answered the phone. “Hey, Tammy.”

  “I did it,” her friend crowed.

  “You separated the audio tracks?” An electric current zinged through her. “God, I love you.”

  “I’d prefer being worshipped, but love will do,” Tammy half sighed, half laughed. “I emailed you the isolated clip.”

  “Can you play it for me now?” Katherine’s toe tapped the wood floor.

  “Sure. Hold on.”

  Katherine waited, heartbeat accelerating.

  A moment later, a guttural voice clawed through the phone. She swayed on her feet and gripped the armrest of the leather couch. Where had she heard this voice before? “C-could you play it again?”

  When Tammy didn’t answer, Katherine realized she’d only thought the question. She forced it past her tight throat.

  “Do you recognize it?” Tammy asked eagerly.

  “Maybe.”

  Flashes of white light exploded on the edge of Katherine’s vision as she listened again, hearing a voice from her past.

  “Let’s party, bitch!” the man growled.

  Her shaky limbs gave out, and she dropped to the sofa, yanked back fifteen years to Wheaton Prep’s woods the night of the attack. Pain pounded through her skull. Through half slit eyes, she peered up at Summer clutching her blood-soaked head.

  “Let’s party, bitch.”

  She glimpsed a dark figure dragging Summer, kicking and screaming, deeper into the brush. It was Katherine’s last memory before she’d lost consciousness.

  What were the odds Summer’s abductor and the Last Call Killer used the same phrase?

  Nil.

  For a second she could feel it, the affirmative answer right through her body: the weight of the room lifting off her, the rush of strength hitting every cell like oxygen.

  I’ve got you now, motherfucker.

  Nash didn’t believe in coincidences and, deep down, neither did she. Summer’s attacker had either returned to Dallas or resumed his activities. When she caught him, she’d get closure and justice for her friend.

  But where was Robby in this flashback?

  He’d said Summer was ahead of them, and he’d only heard her screams. Nauseating bile rose in her throat, and she gagged on a sudden, horrible suspicion.

  “You okay?” Tammy’s voice rose in concern.

  “P-play that again, please?”

  “Sure, hon. But do you want me to call dispatch? You don’t sound so good.”

  “I’m fine. Just, one more time, okay?”

  The savage voice raked over her eardrums again. Still, it didn’t hit her all at once. It came like the slow cold of fluid from an IV crawling up a vein.

  She was listening to Robby.

  He’d uttered those words to Summer. He’d abducted her.

  “Who is it, Katherine? Katherine?”

  Her phone dropped from nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor.

  If Robby attacked Summer, he’d kidnapped, tortured, and murdered the victims here in Dallas, too. Had in other places as well, she guessed, like Shreveport, Atlanta: cities where he’d used his business as a cover to target his favorite victims—party girls. Rich, entitled young women who’d dismissed him and mistreated him like his mother.

  Robby’s framed Orion picture beckoned her closer. “B, A, S, R, M, B, M,” she whispered, each letter carved into one of the Last Call Killer’s victims. “Bella, Amber, Summer, Regan, Mandy, Brianna, and Megan.”

  She swallowed painfully as the connection to the constellation crystalized. The letters matched the names of her friends at Wheaton Prep. He’d posed each of his kills on the constellation’s stars, carving the corresponding letter in his victim’s chest, a sick way to commemorate his former tormentors.

  Everything fell into place…. How had she missed this?

  When you stopped putting your faith in Nash.

  Regret gnawed on her heart, grinding it to pulp. Nash was right about everything. She should have believed him—believed in him—like she’d promised.

  She had to leave and call for backup.

  Katherine whirled and ran smack into Robby.

  For one, breath-stealing moment, she stared straight into his blue eyes and saw her killer. What was behind those eyes? A bad man, a sad man, like the song lyrics in Brittany’s video suggested?

  Yes. That and more.

  She was looking
at a stranger, not her friend.

  A monster.

  One she had to take down.

  Nash had said the Last Call Killer used the video to apologize to someone. Now she knew who—her.

  Her jaw tightened.

  “What’s wrong?” He studied her unguarded expression intently.

  She strove to don her professional mask, but it slipped from her grasp. For a second, taking in what this meant—how wrong she’d been—used up all her mind. “N-nothing.” She edged closer to her phone.

  “Katherine? Are you okay?”

  Katherine winced at the tinny sound of Tammy’s concerned voice floating up from her cell. She must have hit the speaker button when she’d dropped it.

  “Who’s the male voice on the audio? It sounds like you’ve figured out who—” Tammy’s voice cut off when Robby snatched up the phone and punched it off.

  “Who have you identified?” Robby asked quietly, pocketing the phone.

  When her eyes darted to the constellation picture and back, his followed then narrowed. “Oh. I see.”

  The air in the mansion felt like it was changing into something different, a snake gathering speed and ready to switch back any second and strike. “I’m not feeling well, Robby. I’m sorry. I really need to go,” she said, her voice breaking. Her hand settled on her Glock.

  He shook his head, his expression sorrowful. “No. I’m sorry.” There was something dangerous growing in his voice.

  “For?” She stepped backward, easing to the front door.

  “Secure,” he commanded. Metal shades banged shut over windows and door bolts slammed home. She was never getting out. Her breath stalled, her lungs seizing.

  “You killed Summer. And Layla—the rest of the women. You’re the Last Call Killer.”

  “Yes.”

  At his confirmation, she drew her gun and blinked fast to clear the sting from her eyes. “You’re under arrest.”

  Robby’s fists snapped closed; he was bone white and his top lip was pulled back in a snarl. His eyes were the predatory blue of a hunting wolf. “Drop it or Brittany dies.”

  Katherine steadied her trembling hand with another, locking them around her pistol. “Tell me where she is or you die.”

  “Follow me.”

  Robby turned on his heel and she followed him as he stalked to a small room off the short corridor. Flat screens covered every inch of its walls. One showed his underground garage, the black Corvette spotted at some of the disappearances filling the picture.

  Other screens held live shots of the interiors of clubs where he’d installed his network system. What a diabolical way to spy, undetected, on his hunting grounds.

  “You pick your victims by watching these.”

  “They’re hardly victims.” He waved a hand, dismissive.

  She tightened her grip on her gun. “Where’s Brittany?”

  He pointed to a large screen dominating one wall, and a chilling smile crept across his face like frost.

  Heart drumming, she stepped closer, keeping one eye on Robby, and studied the young woman held in an unlocked cage. She was unconscious, ashen, her lips blue-tinged, the same color as the bruises covering her broken body. She seemed to barely breathe as she hung limply in her restraints. A bloody letter M was carved into her torso.

  Katherine’s breath rasped harsh in her throat. Given the ring of red fingermarks around Brittany’s throat, Katherine had interrupted the final phase of Robby’s demented ritual. Brittany still lived, but barely. “She needs medical attention.”

  “She’ll get what she deserves,” he said coldly, his face so devoid of expression she hardly recognized him.

  “So will you,” she assured him, keeping her gun pointed at his chest. “On the floor.”

  “If you kill me, then Brittany dies. She’s dying already, in fact.” Perverse pleasure tinged his voice. “I’d nearly finished when my monitor picked you up.”

  “I’ll find her when I search the house.”

  “The system only recognizes my voice, so killing me won’t help. By the time you figure out the digital code to whichever room I’m keeping her in—if she’s even on site—it’ll be too late.”

  On the monitor, Brittany choked, a feeble, heart-wrenching sound. Fury and helplessness twisted inside Katherine as Brittany spit up blood.

  Damn it. Robby was right.

  Brittany was on the brink of death, and Katherine would have to play along if she had any chance of saving the young woman.

  “Drop the gun,” Robby ordered. “And I’ll bring you to her.”

  The Glock clanked to the floor. She was under no illusions Robby was cooperating. He intended to kill her, too. Only this time he wasn’t facing a bound, fearful woman, but one trained to use deadly force.

  Robby snatched up her pistol, pointed the muzzle at her, then toward a small closet. “That way.”

  Her legs were so cold she could barely move them; she was numb right down to her bones. She forced herself forward, inside the tight space and paused, searching for a false door. Every wall appeared seamless.

  “Alohomora.” At Robby’s voice command, a latch clicked and the closet’s false back swung open to reveal descending stairs.

  “The unlocking charm. Clever.”

  “Like you said, I’m a Potterhead.”

  Her hands curled at her sides. “Harry Potter fought for good.”

  “So do I.” Robby’s eyes met hers, and he shrugged, one eyebrow going up scornfully. “I’m ridding the world of heartless women.”

  “You’re acting out a revenge fantasy you couldn’t carry out when you were younger,” she said, modulating her voice.

  She had to persuade him to either surrender or lower his guard enough for her to take back the gun (now that she’d passed through the locked door) and to call for help. But even if she succeeded, how would officers access the house? With steel shutters and a stone façade, the house was truly a fortress. By the time they broke through, Brittany would most likely be dead.

  She had to think of something. Fast.

  Their steps echoed as they marched down into an underground, thick-walled bunker covered with black acoustic panels. No wonder the neighbors hadn’t complained…. No one could hear a thing from the soundproofed space.

  Her heart plummeted when she spied the young woman.

  “Brittany?” Katherine raced over and felt for a pulse. Faint and thready. Her dread rose to a fever pitch. “Brittany, hang in there. It’s Katherine. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Brittany’s eyelids flickered. “Help.”

  “I will, sweetie.”

  “Please,” Brittany begged between painful wheezes. “Help.”

  Katherine whirled. “Let her go, Robby. This isn’t you,” she insisted, striving to hide her disgust and horror.

  Robby pushed his hair out of his face with the back of his free wrist, the gun trained on her chest. “How would you know? You haven’t been around.”

  “I’m sorry, Robby. I am.”

  Keep him talking…. Her eyes flitted around, assessing the distance to the set of knives and scalpels.

  “It’s too late now.” Robby’s head tipped back, just a fraction. His lips parted and he let out a long breath, soft and immensely sad. “Now I’ll have to kill you, too.”

  “You spared me the day you took Summer. Why?”

  “You were my friend,” he said simply.

  “I still am,” she forced herself to say.

  His gaze swerved to hers. “You were the only one who was ever nice to me. I never wanted to hurt you. It was those bitches.” Brittany let out a wild little whimper at his loud voice. “They corrupted you, turned you against me, and took away the only person who ever loved me.”

  “I’m the one who chose to follow them rather than stick with you. I
was selfish and insecure. But I still loved you. That never changed.”

  He lowered the gun to dangle at his side and his mouth worked. She was getting to him. Gone was the cold-blooded killer and here, again, was the lost boy who’d shown up on her doorstep one day, longing for affection and acceptance. That neglected child still held a corner of her heart, despite everything.

  “You’re lying,” he said.

  When she hesitated to deny the accusation, the gun snapped up, small and dark and wicked, pointing straight at her. “And Summer deserved what she got, as did the rest.”

  “They were just adolescent girls who wanted to have fun—no real harm in it.”

  Robby’s glasses were slipping down his nose, but he didn’t seem to notice. “No harm unless you’re the one being mocked.” His voice rose into a falsetto. “Oh Robert, you’re such a loser. Hold my coat, that’s all you’re good for.” He gritted his teeth. “Yeah. A real barrel of laughs.”

  “You’re right. It was cruel.” Katherine kept an eye on Brittany, whose breathing had slowed to gasping pants. “But we were kids. Immature. Besides, Brittany’s not like those girls. She teaches special-needs children who depend on her care.”

  “My mother was supposed to take care of me!” Robby screamed with such intensity his face turned crimson, like it was ready to explode. “She’d go out drinking, then come home and smack me around, or she’d lock me in the closet all night if she brought back a guy.”

  Despite everything, her heart ached. “Robby, I didn’t know it was so bad. I’m sorry…but don’t take this out on Brittany.”

  His hand rose in slow motion, a long fluid arc, to brace the gun again. An immense silence filled the bunker; Brittany’s moans had fallen away, her mouth rounded but Katherine couldn’t hear anything coming out. The only sound in the world was the flat click of Robby chambering the bullet as he swung his gun toward Brittany.

  “You’ve left me no choice.” His expression shifted from fury to anguish, and he scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand. “Now you both have to die.”