“And that is so unlike Tiffany.” She dabbed her eyes. She was medium-sized and of medium weight, with a pleasant face that had probably aged twenty years in the last twenty hours. She did all the talking. Her husband was a physician, and like most doctors I had encountered, words were not his best thing. He sat beside her, not speaking, barely moving. Stunned.
Tiffany was their only child.
“She’s never run off before?”
“Of course not,” the mother said. “Tiffany is a good girl. Responsible. She’s on the honor roll, you know.”
“I, um, didn’t.”
“She’s not just some dumb blond cheerleader,” her father said, speaking for the first time. Apparently this was a point he felt compelled to make. “She had a real head on her shoulders.”
“And so kind,” the woman continued. “So considerate of others.” Her face flattened for a moment. “I’ll bet it was that JJ’s idea. I never cared much for her.”
“That was one of her friends, right?” I checked my files. “One of the other cheerleaders who disappeared.”
“I often told Tiffany she should be more careful. People judge you by your friends. But you know girls that age. They don’t listen. Do you have a girl that age?”
“Niece,” I offered.
“Oh, well then, you know. They don’t listen. Not a bit. Even the smart ones.”
Darcy sat in an overstuffed chair, picking at the armrest. I knew he was uncomfortable. All this misery-he absorbed it like a sponge. He might not understand emotion, but in a way, that could increase the discomfort of being around it. I just hoped he wouldn’t have another breakdown. I couldn’t deal with that now.
“Does she have any friends in Las Vegas?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Does she have an interest in gambling?”
“Of course not.”
“Rock and roll? There are several rock stars playing the Strip this week.”
“She’s more interested in Broadway. Show tunes, you know.”
“Does she like to… dress up?” Had to tread carefully here. But I hadn’t forgotten that Helen had a secret life her mother knew nothing about. It was possible this one did, too. Possible they both made the same mistake that put them in Edgar’s clutches.
“Dress up? How?”
“Oh… provocatively. Sexy.”
“My Tiffany would never do that.”
I had to push. “Those cheerleading skirts are usually pretty short.”
“That’s entirely different. That’s a sign of school spirit.”
Mmmm. “You think she’d have any interest in sex clubs?”
Mrs. Glancy clutched her bosom. “I-I-never-!” She looked at her husband, who was no use at all. “Are you planning to help our Tiffany or destroy her reputation?”
“I’m planning to find her, ma’am. And that means I need to know as much about her as possible.”
Dad cleared his throat. “I think maybe I should call Dick Conners.”
The family lawyer, no doubt. That would gum up the works. And frankly, I didn’t have the time. Not with the clock on these girls already ticking. “Does she have any hobbies? Interests?”
The woman was still glaring at me, but she eventually answered. “She likes to collect Dumbo figurines. You know, the flying elephant. She must have a hundred of them. And she wants to be a policewoman.”
That’s one you didn’t hear every day. “Tiffany wants to be a cop?”
“Yes. Especially after nine-eleven. She always has been very respectful, even worshipful, around our public servants. Heroes, she calls them. Police, firefighters. All that.”
A cheerleading policewoman. Couldn’t hurt. “Is she friendly? Outgoing? Would she talk to strangers?”
“Very friendly. But I would hope she has the sense not to talk to someone she doesn’t know. Especially in Las Vegas.”
I folded up my notepad. This was getting nowhere. Time to search the girls’ room. They would protest-I might even have to sit through a phone call to Dick Conners-but eventually they would relent. Because whatever their faults or foibles, they wanted their little girl back. And they knew the longer she was gone, the less likely that became. As did I.
It was nice being with Susan again. She’s almost like she used to be before the Bad Man took her but sometimes her hands shake and I can tell her stomach hurts and she looks like she’s going to cry but her smell is better and she’s back and she let me read to her while she drove the car. I wish I could drive the car but they wouldn’t let me get a license and I know I could do it but not unless they let me try and maybe Susan would let me after we catch the Bad Man and her hands don’t shake so much anymore. I know she likes me. I know she likes me.
Next time I’m going to ask her about babies.
Tiffany was the strongest, as it turned out. Who would have guessed that the spoiled rich girl would be the most resilient of the threesome? Hidden depths, he supposed. Dark secrets such as the prophet often saw lurking just beneath the surface. But those depths held dangers. They had to be eliminated.
He’d taken her through the entire “Pit and the Pendulum” scenario, just as he had the other two. But whereas Judy and JJ had disintegrated into hysteria, Tiffany had kept hold of her senses, even after the blade gave her a few rather significant slices. She had remained defiant, even through her pain.
Additional measures were required.
When Tiffany awoke, she found herself strapped to the table, still naked. It was amazing, he noted, how nakedness and physical discomfort increased their vulnerability. He had made the room positively frigorific, so much so that her body was covered with goose pimples.
“Good morning, Tiffany.”
“You can’t hurt me,” she said through dry and cracked lips.
“I’m glad to hear that, my dear. It will make what I have to do next so much less trying. Are my hands cold?”
He pressed the palms of both hands down on her abdomen. She flinched.
“I feared they might be. Hard to keep warm this time of year. The temperature is having a rather remarkable effect on your body.”
“I don’t know why you’re doing this, you sick fuck, but it isn’t going to work! I’ll never do what you want. If you’re going to rape me, then go ahead and do it. Get your filthy rocks off so I can get out of here!”
“My dear Tiffany, you mistake my intentions altogether. And you have a mouth like a sewer.”
“You’re a disgusting little creep. I bet your thing is just as short as you are. That’s probably why you have to get your thrills hurting teenage girls.”
“My darling-”
“Where’re Judy and JJ? What have you done to them?”
“They’re in another room.”
“Are you torturing them, too?”
“Not at all. They’re being quite compliant. Only you are-”
“Then let me see them!”
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible yet. But in time-”
She twisted and strained against the straps, trying with all her might to get free.
He laid a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back to the table. “You’ve cut yourself.” He pointed to an abrasion across her left breast, just above the nipple.
“It was your damned pendulum, you-”
“Looks nasty. Could be infected. Needs attention.”
“Leave me alone!”
“Fear not, I know just the thing.” He lifted a bucket and placed it on the edge of the table where she could just see it. “Heavy. Needs to be stirred.” He took a large wooden ladle and swirled it through what appeared to be a thick gray muck. “There. That’s better.”
“What is that? What are you going to do with it? Are you going to put that on me?”
“Of course not. This is not the salve. This is but the living environment.” He dipped the ladle into the bucket, this time just skimming the surface.
It came back with something.
He brought
the ladle around so that she could see it, letting a splotch of gray goo splash down on her neck. It was small, thin, and writhing, greenish black in color. As he held it close to her face, the putrid smell made her turn away.
“What the hell is that?”
“Don’t you know, Tiffany? It’s the best thing for an infection. In the prophet’s time, all the best physicians used them, a practice that has sadly fallen out of favor.” He leaned in closer, pressing the lip of the ladle against her cheek. “It’s a leech.”
“Get it away from me!”
“No, no, you don’t understand. It’s a good little creature. It’ll clean your wounds. Suck out the poison.”
“I said, get it away!”
“Don’t be silly. You’ll hurt his feelings. Now where was that wound? Oh, yes.” He tilted the ladle until the leech slowly oozed out and plopped onto her left breast.
“Get it off me! Get it off!”
“Don’t fuss so. Let it do its work.”
“Get it off!” Her voice screeched, panic rising. She squirmed as the slimy creature oozed its way across her. “Get-it-off!”
“Many hardy souls such as yourself are quite resilient when it comes to physical torment or fear, yet still have a weakness. Spiders, perhaps. Loud noises. But I suspected that you might have a touch of tactile defensiveness. We all do, of course, to varying degrees. But your case might be more extreme.” He smiled. “Oh, look. The little beastie has found the wound. Engaging suckers.”
“Please make it stop.” She was sobbing, her voice bubbling, tears streaking. “Please make it stop.”
“Just leave it to him. He knows what’s best for what ails you. Oh-look! Another wound.” With his fingertip, he traced a line up the inside of her upper thigh. “Fortunately, I have more of these salutary animalcules.”
“No! Not there!”
He plopped another leech onto her leg. Tiffany writhed and shivered, thrusting herself forward and backward, right and left, trying to shake it off, to no avail.
“Is that a pimple on your face? Oh, I hate those.”
“Please don’t. Please don’t.”
“Here comes another helper.”
“Not on my face! Please! Not on my-”
He dropped it just above her upper lip. It immediately began to slither toward her mouth.
Her eyes widened with fear and helplessness. She didn’t dare speak, but she bucked against the table, thrusting her hips, squirming, trying to relieve herself of the slimy creatures.
“Honestly, Tiffany, you will carry on, won’t you? About three puny leeches? The way you’re behaving, I might as well-you know what? I think I will.”
He tilted the bucket and dumped it, gray ooze and leeches alike, on top of her. Tiffany was deluged with the muck, in her eyes, in her mouth, every crevice and orifice.
She sputtered and spit, trying to keep it out of her mouth, but it was useless. She spat out a leech, gagging. She shuddered, unable to hold still. Her eyes were wide as balloons, her breathing a rapid-fire succession of jagged intakes, her chest heaving. She couldn’t speak, but was reduced to making incoherent guttural noises, vacant and horrifying.
“How does it feel?” he asked, truly curious. “Having that sucking sensation all over your body, on your hands, your face, even your most private parts? Is it too awful? Or is it, as you young girls say, a turn-on?”
“Please make it stop, please make it stop, please make it stop…”
“Oh, Tiffany, my dear, you don’t need me to do that. It will stop, sooner than you might imagine. You see, those leeches are more than just disgusting. They are poisonous. Instead of ridding your body of toxins, they are actually infecting you, tainting your bloodstream with a potent cyanide derivative.” He looked at her levelly. “You will be dead soon, Tiffany. And then you won’t be able to feel the little creatures at all.”
“Pleeeeeeeeeeeease!” At least, that’s what he thought she was saying, but her shrieks were so piercing at this point he couldn’t make it out with any degree of fidelity.
“Goodbye, Tiffany. I’ll let you spend your final moments in peace.” Even as she cried and pleaded with him, he laid down the bucket, wiped his hands on a towel, and left the room.
She screamed for more than an hour before it was over.
“Who the hell is the leak?” Patrick bellowed, slamming the front door behind him.
I looked up, as did virtually everyone in the building. Outside, I could see reporters’ faces jammed up against the glass like trick-or-treaters with their own perverse way of celebrating the forthcoming holiday. We were under siege. Had been all day.
Patrick stomped through the aisles, pushing aside locals and feds alike. I had never seen him in such a state. “It’s one thing to leak our theories. New developments. But we don’t even know for sure that Edgar took these girls!” He pounded his fists against the staircase banister. “For all we really know, they could be holed up at the Flamingo with their quarterback boyfriends!”
I knew what he was talking about. The morning papers had leaked the names of the three potential abductees-Tiffany and Judy and JJ. While cautiously reporting that the LVPD was investigating the possibility, they strongly suggested that it was a fact-that the girls were now dead and that it was all our fault.
“Is this tirade supposed to accomplish something?” I asked when he made it to my desk.
“Excuse me very much,” he spat back. “You may be used to this kind of amateurism, but at the Bureau, we don’t countenance leaks. They compromise the investigation!” He headed down the stairs. “I’m going to talk to our criminalists.”
Because those FBI guys are so much smarter than I am? Even though they don’t have the sense to take off their sunglasses when they come inside? Even though they dress like extras from Men in Black?
I gave the desk a shove, kicked back in my chair. I shouldn’t let it get to me. He was just frustrated, like everyone else connected to this case. But he doesn’t have to take it out on me. Especially after all I’ve been through. After all that we’ve… shared.
Damn. Amazing how much less sexy guys are when they’re acting like assholes.
Tiffany did not die. The leeches were infected with a mild paralytic, enough that she might well think she was dying (and did). But not nearly enough to kill her. He had planned it that way.
She had screamed and begged for mercy till her voice was shredded and her tears were dry and there was nothing she could do but wait to die. But she did not.
“Tiffany! Still with us? Lovely.” She was shivering, making quiet sobbing noises, her naked body covered with dried slime, leeches, and the remnants of leeches. They had sucked all over her body; her flesh was variegated with bruises and discoloration. Her eyes were cloudy and her expression was vacant, but he could see she was still there. Part of her, anyway.
“I’m sure you must be thinking horrible thoughts about me right now, thinking I’ve been terrible to you. If only you could understand that it is not so. Per contra, this has all been for your benefit.”
She shuddered, trembled, but did not attempt to answer.
“I know you’re probably not able to speak, so I won’t expect you to hold up your end of the conversation. I’ll do it for you. Look what I brought.”
He loosened the straps just enough that she could peer up and see what he had brought with him.
Two bizarre hairy orange costumes. Orangutans.
“I knew you were anxious to see your two friends, so I brought them with me. They’re quite agreeable these days. They put on their costumes without any hesitation. I hope you will, too.” He leaned closer. “I’m afraid I exaggerated a bit beforehand, my sweet. The leeches drugged you, but they didn’t poison you. This time.”
She stared at him, shivering, her eyes wide and lost, like a broken doll.
“No need to feel left out, my dear. I’ve got a costume for you, too.”
It was like the others, except that a huge section was cut out at the bos
om, with a similar cutaway at the groin.
She trembled as she spoke. “If-if-if-if if if if if I put it on, will you get this… slime off of me?”
“My dear, you’ll be able to do it yourself. I’ll provide the soap and water. You can pass the day away in indulgent lavation.”
He unstrapped her. She took the suit like an automaton, barely thinking. He handed her a towel and she wiped herself off, wiped and wiped and wiped, leaving red abrasions and in some places bleeding. She picked the leeches away, crying as she did it, from her waist, her breasts, her pubis. Some left round sucking circles, others left blood oozing from her skin. But she did not scream or misbehave. She just sobbed quietly, desperately.
Then she took the suit. “Seems… wet.”
“Coated with paraffin wax. I’ll tell you why in a moment. Go on now. You must be anxious to get dressed.”
She pulled the suit over herself. Her breasts hung out through the opening at the upper torso, while the midriff cutaway exposed her genitalia.
She put it on without complaining.
“What you have to understand,” he said gently, almost paternally, “what it took me so long to grasp, is that it isn’t enough to simply make an offering. The offerings must be true participants. Willing.”
He took a book of matches from his pocket, struck one, then lit a small torch-a club with oily rags wrapped and secured at the top.
“Hard to imagine, isn’t it? That all this might have some wondrous purpose? But I can assure you that it does. One day, all humanity will give you its thanks. Your suffering will lead this troubled world to eternal bliss.”
He smiled genially, then passed her the torch. “Set your friends on fire, Tiffany.”
She looked at him, peering through the eye holes in the orangutan mask.
“Don’t worry. They won’t resist. They only exist to please me. Set them on fire.”
Her arm twitched.
“If you refuse, of course, I’ll have no choice but to put you back on the table. Perhaps it will be time to restart the pendulum. Instead of putting it across your chest, we’ll let it take off an arm. Or a leg.” His eyes narrowed. “Or perhaps I should bring out more leeches. Would you like that, Tiffany? Shall we bring them back?” He paused. “Or perhaps I should give one of your friends the opportunity I now offer you. Remember-you’re wearing a suit, too, highly flammable. Perhaps I should ask JJ if she will light your fire.”
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