by A. A. Dark
“I couldn’t convince you to leave your door open, could I?”
The yell traveled through, and I peeked my head out to see him peering over the back end of the sofa. Eyes, it was only his eyes, and I knew he had put himself like that intentionally. I tried not to smile, even though I wanted to laugh at him making fun of himself.
“Next you’re going to be asking if you can sleep on my floor.”
Higher, he rose, a seriousness coming over him. “Can I? You mentioned he came to your window first. He knows where you sleep.”
“Absolutely not. I’m fully prepared if he returns. Goodnight, Boston.”
A sigh turned into a frown. “Goodnight, Anna.”
I shut my door, hitting Braden’s number as I headed deeper into my room. At the voicemail, I frowned, surging into my closet. “Hey, it’s me. I was wondering if you got an address yet. I’m still awake, so don’t worry about waking me up. I’ll be waiting.”
Hanging up, I grabbed a pair of dark jeans and a long sleeve black turtleneck. For the life of me, I couldn’t stop the deep-seeded excitement. He needed to call. I needed that address. Lucy was within reach. She had to be. If this was our guy, and he was removed from the situation, I could slip right in and set the girls free. No. Braden would never help me again if I did that. It was imperative I make sure they were there and call in the screams, like I’d told him.
I grabbed my running shoes and slipped them on before turning off the bedroom light. From the glow of the bathroom, I sat on the edge of the bed for what felt like hours. I was back in No One’s house again. I could still feel the restraints around my wrists…still smell the distinct shower gel he’d bathed us in. The food. He thought I carried his child. In his own way, perhaps he tried to do right by the enemy captive he viewed me as, but he couldn’t control the beatings or torture. The hate he had for me knew no bounds.
Heaviness took over my eyes, and I let the top half of my body fall back to the mattress as my feet dangled over the side. Was Lucy currently going through something similar? Was she still alive? Braden wasn’t sure, and I didn’t blame him. Was this even our guy? If…Boston. My heart ached as I imagined him discovering bad news. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stop reality from pushing in. Boston was a killer. I was a killer. The statistics were all too clear. Although neither of us targeted random, innocent people, I wasn’t naïve that some psychopaths didn’t care either way. I was praying for a miracle. Praying for a victim who could have easily been mine or Boston’s if the make-up of our killers were reversed.
****
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Heavily, my lids opened, closing almost immediately. It was Boston’s face that had them shooting back open. I flew to a sitting position, almost sliding from my bed in the process.
“What is it? What happened?”
I was already turning for the clock. Work. I had to go to work. But something was off. My brain wouldn’t focus.
Six a.m.
“You were screaming. The first time, I let you stop on your own since you didn’t want me to come in, but only ten minutes passed, and you started screaming again. You weren’t stopping. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“What is this?” he asked, gesturing with his hand. “Did you go somewhere? Plan to?”
A groan left me as I crawled to the middle of my bed, collapsing and pulling the pillow to cover my face. “Sleep.”
“Anna? Why are you dressed?”
Lifting the pillow enough to see his worry, I made another sound, forcing myself to sit. Two hours was not enough sleep after the long days and nights we had been putting in.
“It makes me feel safe. If I’m dressed, I can run at a moment’s notice. Boston, please. I’m tired. You must be tired too. Sleep.”
The sadness grew as he turned and began heading out. Falling back, I hugged my pillow tight as I tried not to let it affect me. Boston would be fine. Lucy would be fine. A few more hours and Braden would call. He would definitely call.
****
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Each loud thunk had my body jolting through a mix of slumber and bewilderment. My pulse was drumming into my chest. What was happening? Was that the door? Someone trying to break it down? What time was it?
I spun off the bed on numb legs and tried to sprint to see what the commotion was. Nothing on me was working right. Adrenaline ruled my movements, making it impossible to control my actions. My shoe hooked on the previous day’s shirt, and I flew forward. Air exploded from my lungs, and I tried to scramble back up as the loud sounds pounded outside my door again.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
I barely had it open before the sound of the blender began to grind loudly. I stared at Boston, completely lost on what was going on. I wasn’t used to this. To…having someone here besides Braden. And he would have never awoken me like this.
“There you are. Good morning. Smoothie?”
“W-What?”
“Your bananas were starting to go bad. Lucy couldn’t stand letting food go to waste. I also noticed last night you had strawberries in the freezer. It was perfect. I decided to make smoothies. Lucy loved those. You want one?”
“But…banging…you’re joking, right?”
“They’re really good.”
“It’s seven-oh-four,” I said, glancing at the clock.
“Perfecting timing. Didn’t you say you had to go to work? You can take one with you. Or drink one with me before you leave. Either way, win-win.”
“Boston…I go in today at ten. Ten. What are you doing?”
“Hold on. Almost done.”
The loud hum filled the small space of my home again. Sleep was gone. With it, patience. I headed to the coffee maker, going through my routine in a daze. Grounds spilled over the counter as my hands stumbled at the ring of my phone. I raced through the living room, jerking the cell from my bed and almost dropping it in the process.
“H-Hello? Hello? Braden?”
“You wish. This is Carl. You know, your cameraman. Thirty-fifth and Williams. We have another body. I can pick you up in fifteen if you’d like.”
“Shit. Yes, that would be great. I’ll be ready.” My stomach dropped, and air would barely come as I hung up. Kicking off my running shoes, I stumbled to the closet, pulling the turtleneck off in the process. Another body? So, the man wasn’t our killer? No wonder Braden hadn’t called me. Unless…the body was disposed before he came to my house.
“Anna, everything okay?”
I ripped a blouse from the hanger and pulled it on. Boston stayed out, which I was thankful for as I pushed down my pants and grabbed my slacks.
“No. It’s not. I’ll explain in a minute. I have to get dressed. I’m going in early.”
Silence lasted all of two seconds. Just as I was buttoning my pants, he barged in.
“Did they find another girl?”
“Privacy!”
“Anna…”
Hazel eyes pleaded with mine.
“Yeah…I’m sorry. They did.” Pulling the belt free, I didn’t miss the tsunami of terror and fear that washed over his face. Deep swallows followed a hard shake of his head. The next thing I knew, he was running for my bathroom. My lids closed, and my head went back as I let the darkness cover me. I felt his fear concerning this new body. Dread was making me a nervous wreck too. This wasn’t good. Not for the victim, not for the family, and not for Boston.
Slowly, I finished getting dressed. My heels were already on as the sink turned off and a pale Boston emerged.
“Where’s the body? Did they say what she looked like?”
“No,” I said softly. “They didn’t give a description.”
“Where?” Words wouldn’t come as tears clouded in his angry eyes. “I can’t take this another second. I…Anna…if this is her…if it’s not…fucking shit. I may need help. Before I…I—”
“Whoa, whoa. Breathe. Slow down and talk to me. Before you what?”
Repeatedly, he pushed his fingers through his hair as he tried to slow the pants.
“I’ll kill them all. I’ll go house to house until I find her, and no one will stop me. I don’t care anymore. If I lose her, I’m as good as dead anyway.”
“Don’t say that. You haven’t lost her, and you’re not going to. Get that through your head right this minute. Lucy needs you. Needs you, Boston. I know how hard this is, but you have to think of her. Think of how much she’s going to need you. Hold on a little longer. I’ll call Dr. Patron. He’ll make you better.”
Chapter 22
M
Confessions were nothing more than admission of one’s guilt. Even when done out of a helpful nature, it was still acknowledging wrong-doing in one way or another. To confess was to purge. The action washed away the burden on the conscience and most felt immediately better afterward. I didn’t. I was pissed.
“I would like to report a crime.”
“Excuse me? That’s why you had me called away from the scene? You can do that at the station,” Detective Casey ground out. “I’m busy. Can’t you see that?”
Rage pushed through every part of me as I tried to appear the concerned doctor. Cop cars blocked off roads, and I was barely able to make it through to get an officer to retrieve Anna’s detective. “It’s not a crime like that. I think you’ll want to hear this. I got a call last night. It appears you have my client in custody.”
“Your client?”
Interest sparked in his tone as Detective Casey moved closer.
“That’s right. Daniel Stracht.” I removed the glasses to give him view of my black eyes from Lucy. “I let him go yesterday. He had become too unstable and was impossible to work with. His past…I fear he may have something to do with these missing girls. I fear…” my voice choked up. “Please tell me that’s not Lucy.”
“No. Jesus.” His head whipped around as he motioned for a middle-aged heavy-set guy. The man looked between us as he approached. He was reading me. Gauging who I was and trying to figure out my character. “Diego, I need to take this. Stracht might be our guy. This is the doctor I was telling you about. Our suspect’s doctor.”
“Oh shit. We got this here. Go ahead.”
“Thanks. Come with me, Dr. Patron. Can you follow me to the station?”
“Of course.”
Playing the dutiful psychiatrist had never been a problem for me. I kept the “need” to help plastered all over my face. Even as I followed the detective past Anna and her news crew, I never let the façade drop.
What the fuck had Daniel been thinking? Idiot. This was not how my plan was supposed to go down. He wasn’t meant to get caught yet. Sure, they could possibly let him go, but with him calling me from the jail, I had no choice but to end this now. It was my fault anyway. I should have met him. I should have never belittled the man and pushed him in Anna’s direction. His personality couldn’t handle being goaded. Daniel felt the need to prove himself. Not just to himself, but to me.
“Dr. Patron?”
Boston’s voice cut right through me. As he jogged up, I played my part even more.
“Boston. I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry? Is it—”
Horror drew in his features. My eyes flew open, and I reached for his shoulder. “No. No, it’s not her. I’m afraid I do know who might have taken her though, and I’m a fool for not seeing it before now.”
Hope. It had Boston reaching for my arm.
“You know who has Lucy! Who?”
“Doctor.”
At Detective Casey’s threatening tone, I reached up, removing and squeezing the hand gripping me. “I have to take care of this. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
All I got was a nod as different emotions flickered over his handsome face. Come tomorrow, he’d be devastated. And me…maybe I would be a little too. After all, Lucy had come so far in the time I had her. She didn’t even argue or cry when I put her in cuffs.
Reaching the side road, I got in my car, watching the detective get in his. Following behind, my trip was a silent ride. There was always something about lack of sound that gave me peace. Some people enjoyed music to drown out their thoughts while driving. Others, a quick call to anyone who would answer to pass the time. Not me. Silence. Isolation. It had become part of my solitude for so long, I rarely enjoyed the useless drone of distractions. To face silence was to face yourself. People couldn’t handle who they really were. I could.
Black flashed in my rearview mirror. Boston. It was no surprise he was following along. A part of me had even hoped he would. If he were there, I could pull him to my side even more. I could provide that comfort and encouragement he needed. The condition of Lucy’s body was going to fuck him up possibly forever. And I looked forward to making the stain on his mind. With being in control, each gouge, each tear of her flesh, would be a mental scar on Boston’s brain I could heal. The actions were opposites, yet I was on both ends. The doctor—the deviant.
Turning into the station, I sat in my car, pretending to gather my things until I saw Boston get out of his in my peripheral. Only then did I shut off the engine and open my door. He was there to meet me the moment I stood.
“Please. You have to tell me more. What’s going on?”
Braden was waiting near the entrance, and I kept my voice low as I started in his direction. The disapproving look was one I ignored.
“They have my patient in custody. He never mentioned taking any girls to me, but I got a call last night. They arrested him trying to break into Anna’s home.”
“That was him?”
My head shot over. “You were there?”
“Yeah. I showed up as they were taking him to the car. I went back by to check on her. To make sure she made it home okay,” he assured.
“Of course.”
“You think he may have Lucy. Where does he live?”
My mouth opened, but closed at my paused. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to track him to a residence. I guess I wasn’t looking too hard. I was distracted by what was going on here. I was only half aware of what he was saying through the sessions, truthfully.”
“We’ll find out. We’ll get Lucy back as soon as you’re done talking to Braden.”
My gaze stayed on him a moment longer than I wanted. Braden. So, he was on a first-name basis with Anna’s detective? It took everything I had not to scowl.
“If you’ll follow me, we’ll see what you know. You,” Detective Casey snapped to Boston, “can wait out front.”
No arguments. Just a glare from my crafted killer.
Boston already had so much anger inside. Once he unleashed, the murders would be amazing. And I’d add to his skill. Maybe the bodies could be artistically beautiful like Anna’s. That was, if I could convince him to continue on a regular basis. Which I didn’t see being a problem after I put my own creative spin on his dear Lucy.
Keeping close to the detective, we headed through two sets of doors before we ended back at the desk Joy and I had sat at before. Detective Casey took his place behind it, and I followed, sitting across from him. He grabbed a file, flipping through before he took out paper and a pen.
“Start from the beginning. How long have you been Daniel Stracht’s doctor, and when did you decide to meet with him on this trip?”
Pulling out my little black book, I flipped through the pages. To anyone, it would be nothing more than a collection of names and personal information. Little did they know, it was a gold-mine of killers. And I had no reason to have it out other than the thrill and power it gave me. I was better than law enforcement. There was nothing they could do to stop any of us. If one of my clients got caught, it was because of me. If they killed—they turned to me.
“I first met Daniel three years ago. Back in…July. He called to inquire about an appointment. At the time, he claimed he had blackout episodes. During these times, he mentioned he heard voices in the minutes following his return.”
“He hea
rd voices?”
“That’s right.”
“And then what?”
I sat straighter. “I did the normal analysis. We met, and I allowed him to give me his history. He went into detail about…” I frowned, letting worry return. “I’m sorry. I should have put this together sooner.”
“Elaborate.”
“Well, as a juvenile, Daniel was a suspect in a girl’s disappearance. A neighborhood girl he happened to have romantic feelings toward. You see, the cops knew he committed the crime, but there was insufficient evidence to charge him. Daniel lost sight in one of his eyes around that time. When I asked him how it happened, he wouldn’t discuss the cause. From what I gather during our sessions, it happened when he took the girl.”
“Did he ever tell you he was the one responsible?”
“Not in so many words, but he did it.”
Detective Casey frowned, writing more information down on the paper.
“Anyway,” I continued, “Daniel missed two appointments a few months back and refused to return my calls. I thought he was declining anymore treatment, so I let it go. They weren’t really going anywhere, anyway. He refused to be honest. Not only with me, but himself. Three weeks ago, he called me in the middle of the night. He was talking so fast, I could barely understand him. He said I needed to meet with him, that it was urgent. Due to other clients, I came as soon as I could.”
“The day Lucy Adams disappeared.”
“Correct.”
“According to what we’ve found so far on our investigation, it doesn’t appear Daniel Stracht comes from money.”
Detective Casey still had his head down, but it was angled just enough to project the interest in his eyes as he looked at me.