NightScream

by Morgan Hannah MacDonald

  Jilly scrambled out of bed and started to dress.

  “Go, I’m right behind you.” She shimmied into her pants.

  He grabbed his phone and dialed 911 as he bounced down the stairs. “This is Special Agent Cody Thomas and I need fire and rescue sent to 953 Covington Drive. There’s a boat in flames right in the middle of the cove.” He hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket, and stepped into his boots by the door.

  “Hurry, Jilly!”

  “Coming!”

  He ran into the kitchen and snagged the fire extinguisher. Running through the living room, he grabbed a stack of blankets off the couch. He punched in the alarm code and threw the door open.

  “Meet me at the boat,” he yelled from the porch.

  “I told you I was right behind you.” Her voice was closer than he’d have thought.

  He gazed up, she stood at the top of the stairs buttoning her blouse.

  “You’ll need shoes.”

  She looked down at her bare feet and frowned. “Shit.”

  “Hurry, I’ll get our boat started.” He raced toward the dock. Once alongside the boat, he tossed the blankets and climbed in after them.

  He rested the extinguisher gently on the floor. After he turned on the ignition, he spun around expecting to see Jilly running down the hill toward him.

  She wasn’t there.

  He glanced back at the fire. If someone was aboard, they were toast now. “Jilly!” He waited a beat or two, and then shut down the motor. “What the hell?” He jumped out of the boat and ran back to the house. The front door stood open. He leaned in, bracing his hands on the door frame. “What’s the hold up?”

  No answer.

  Nothing but dead air.

  Cody’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Samuel Miller checked on Bridget and found her in a deep slumber. She hovered on the brink of death. He had to be careful not to feed her too much antifreeze. She needed to live long enough for her girls to grow to trust him.

  It was important that they witness his goodness and love for their mother. He stared at the photo, the one Bridget kept in her wallet. The girls had faces were that of angels.

  In his nondescript rental car, he made the thirty minute drive south toward Laguna Niguel to free them. Excitement ratcheted up his heartbeat and sweat leaked from his pores as he inched his way through the quiet residential neighborhood.

  He found the house, but kept going. He’d noticed a police car parked across the street. Their presence did not deter him. They thought they were smart, but he was smarter.

  He drove around the corner and turned onto the next street. He counted the houses and parked. When he exited the vehicle, he made certain he had his tools; a bottle of chloroform, a handkerchief, his knife, and the slim-jim.

  Dressed in black, including a ski mask pulled over his face, he opened the gate quietly and let himself into the backyard of the house behind Bridget’s. With great stealth, he traversed the yard, ever vigilant of discarded toys.

  He came to the fence that divided the properties and hoisted himself up, and dropped down on the other side. A dog barked in the distance. He knew Bridget’s family didn’t own any animals, nor did her nearest neighbors.

  In the time he’d been with her, he’d questioned all aspects of her life, including the layout of her house. Samuel came to the back door and silently pushed the screen to the side. He checked the sliding glass door, it wouldn’t budge.

  Not a problem. He pulled out the slim-jim and slipped it beneath the lock. Before long, it clicked up. Slowly, he opened the door just enough to enter. His heart raced. He stood just inside the door as he got his bearings. He was in the kitchen. The light above the stove gave off a soft illumination.

  On tiptoe, he moved into the living room. The full moon shone through the windows. The hall was to his left, the nightlight from the bathroom made it easy for him to see. He glanced in the first room and found two little mounds covered in blankets.

  Their slow, steady breaths convinced him that they were sound asleep. After he took care of the father, he’d be back for them. He unsheathed his knife and headed into the master bedroom.

  The husband was fast asleep.

  He crept up to the bed and raised the knife high above his head.

  Thomas woke to the ringing phone.

  “Thomas.” He slipped from the bed and walked down the hall to his office. Although certain Meagan had woken as well, he didn’t want her within earshot.

  “GPS has the phone in Anaheim, in the neighborhood of Disneyland. It hasn’t moved in the last thirty minutes,” said the voice on the other end.

  “Have you alerted the unit parked outside the house?” Thomas sat in the leather chair behind the desk.

  “Yes, all’s quiet.”

  “I’m on my way.” He ended the call and noticed Meagan standing in the doorway.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “They’re in Anaheim.”

  “Thank God. I’ll get dressed.” She turned to leave.

  “Babe, you can’t go with me.” He closed the gap between them. “It could be dangerous.”

  “I’ll stay out of your way, but I have to be there for Bridget.”

  Thomas stared at the determined set of her jaw.

  “Dammit.” He ran his hands through his hair. This woman was going to be the death of him. “Fine, but you stay in the car. Got that?”

  “Fine.” She started down the hall. He caught her arm.

  “I’m not kidding, Meagan. I can’t do my job if I’m worrying about you.”

  “I’ve got it.” She pulled her arm free. “Jeez.”

  “Then hurry up. We have to jet.”

  Within minutes they were speeding toward Laguna Niguel.

  Samuel felt the give of flesh as his hand came down again and again into the husband’s body. Satisfaction overwhelmed him. He had no idea how many times the knife had entered when he stopped.

  His breath caught as a kind of euphoria spread through him. He cleaned the blade on the bedspread and stuck the knife back in the sheath attached to his belt.

  Now the girls.

  Certain he grinned like a fool, he removed the small bottle of chloroform from his pocket and soaked the handkerchief. As he entered the room, their soft breaths told him they were still fast asleep. The moon bathed the room with enough light for him to see their outlined bodies. He crept to the head of one of the twin beds, and lifted the covers gently.

  Thomas pulled up behind the cruiser and parked. When he got to the window, the officer rolled it down.

  “Hey, Cooper, you see anything yet?” Thomas asked.

  “Nope. All’s quiet,” the officer responded.

  “Good. Shadowhawk’s on her way. The surveillance van should be here any minute. Keep your eyes peeled. I’m going to park my car down the street. I’ll be right back.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Cody removed his gun from the waistband of his pants and he slipped into the house. He cleared the first level and made his way up the stairs. The only sound came from sirens wailing in the distance. He crept from room to room. No signs of a struggle. When he’d finished with the second floor, he went out on the balcony off of his room to get the lay of the land.

  Besides the flashing yellow and red lights coming up the hill, nothing moved. How in the hell was this guy taking his victims unaware? And how could he have gotten the drop on a seasoned cop?

  Fire and Rescue pulled up alongside the driveway just as Cody stepped out the front door. He walked over and spoke to one of the men, pointing down the hill toward the lake access at the end of the street.

  He also mentioned his missing partner. The man promised they’d keep their eyes open. The truck rumbled away to take care of the fire. Cody rang the Sheriff’s Station, apprising them of the situation and asked for backup.

  He sprinted into the house and took the stairs two at a time. He threw on a flannel shirt before he secured h
is shoulder holster, and tied his boots.

  He always grabbed the flashlight by the bed. He couldn’t afford to wait for the cavalry. Once outside, he shone the beam on the ground and started walking the grid. A fireman approached from the side.

  “No one was on board the boat. We’ll have the fire out in a moment,” the guy informed him.

  “It figures, the fire was probably set as a diversion. You didn’t happen to pass a vehicle on your way from town did you?”

  “No, sir, not a soul on the road this time of morning.”

  “Okay, thanks. Keep your eyes peeled.”

  “You got it.” The man headed back toward the lake.

  Cody continued inspecting the ground. By the side of the walkway, he found something. Drag marks in the dirt. He traced the path to the road above.

  “This must be where he parked.”

  He raced back inside for his keys and headed for the garage. He hit the button to lift the automated door before he jumped into the FJ Cruiser. It felt like hours as he watched the door shutter high enough for him to escape.

  He backed down the driveway and took off. He soon found himself at a fork in the road. If he turned left it would take him toward town, right climbed the mountain along the lake.

  He turned right.

  Jilly watched Cody running along the dock toward a boat tied to one of the pilings. She’d no sooner cleared the cabin’s threshold when she felt a sting on her neck and collapsed. Her body danced like a puppet on a string.

  On meth.

  She’d been tased.

  No confetti littered the ground. It had to be a professional-grade weapon. Someone grabbed her under the arms and dragged her backward. She was powerless to resist. Every now and then she heard a grunt as she was pulled up an embankment.

  After leveling out, her body was dropped on asphalt.

  Her head hit. Hard.

  She blacked out.

  Cody gunned the engine and the tires squealed as he took off. His speed was hampered as his vehicle traversed the tight corners. He hit redial on his cell phone and put it on speaker before he set it in the holder.

  “Big Bear Sheriff’s Station, Deputy Sparks speaking.”

  “Wayne, it’s Cody Thomas. I need you to relay a message for me.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Tell Bud I found drag marks west of the house and followed them up to where the UNSUB must have parked. I’m in my rig now heading north. No sign of a vehicle yet. I’ll keep you posted. Use this number to get in touch with me.”

  “You got it.”

  Cody disconnected. He pushed the accelerator harder as the highway climbed. He came to the top of a hill and noticed an extended cab truck on the road below, then it disappeared into a curve.

  It had to be the UNSUB.

  He hit the gas and almost lost control. He righted the wheel and pressed on. His attention was divided between his driving, and where he’d last seen the truck. He came out of a turn and spotted it again. He’d made progress. He wasn’t too far behind now.

  His phone rang. “Yeah?”

  “Special Agent, this is Bud. I got your message. Where are you now?”

  “On Bear Valley Road heading north. I think I see the UNSUB up ahead, but I’m still too far out to know for sure.”

  “Fine. Keep the vehicle in sight, but in no way are you to move in and apprehend. I’m sending backup. I will not have you endanger my deputy’s life because you think you’re some hotshot FBI agent. Got it?”

  Cody was pissed by the assumption. “Yes, sir.” He disconnected. He watched the vehicle up ahead; he was getting close. He dropped back and went dark. The road was treacherous enough with headlights, but he didn’t want to spook the driver.

  He slowed to make each turn and thanked God for the full moon. He followed at a safe distance. This went on for several minutes. Flashing lights appeared in his rearview mirror.

  “Fuck!” He hit redial on his phone.

  “Bud Gund—.”

  “Tell those assholes to hit the lights. They’re coming in hot,” Cody yelled.

  The truck ahead sped up. The UNSUB had obviously noticed the lights in the otherwise dark night. The vehicle carrying Jilly took the next curve dangerously close to the railing.

  Jilly awoke to the sound of a woman ranting. “–then you came along. Well you can’t have him. Got it? He’s mine. He’s always been mine.”

  The voice was shrill, Jilly recognized it, but the face kept to the recesses of her mind. Her body rocked back and forth on the floor behind the front seat. A stinging sensation in her fingers meant feeling was returning to her extremities.

  “All you losers are so obtuse. You hear me? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Sure he’ll screw you, but he’ll marry me. Don’t you know that by now? Why do you think he’s waited, huh? He knows I’m the love of his life.”

  Jilly tried to focus. The woman’s agitation made her pitch higher than normal. But still she couldn’t place her.

  “You think you can just come to my work and rub my nose in it? Like hell. I don’t give a shit what people say. Nuh-uh. I’m not crazy. I was only in that nuthouse because of the suicide attempt. No one connected me with blowing dear old dad’s brains out. Me. Daddy’s little girl that he loved so much.”

  Delilah?

  Why the hell hadn’t Jilly remembered this? Maybe because it happened almost twenty years ago, or maybe because she’d moved off the mountain by then. She’d only heard the story second hand. Delilah had swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. Her mother came home from work and found her.

  Delilah had spent years in a mental institution. They’d said she’d had a nervous breakdown after her father’s death. She’d been the one who’d found him out in the back shed.

  He’d killed himself with a shotgun. Propped it on the ground, under his chin and blew his head apart. That would give anyone nightmares. Would it still be true if you pulled the trigger yourself?

  Once she got out of Shady Pines, she had gone to live with an aunt. Where, Jilly had no idea. Come to think about it, Delilah returned home about the same time Cody Thomas was transferred to the Los Angeles field office.

  Delilah was their serial killer.

  “Shit.” Delilah hit the roof of the cab. “The cops are coming!”

  The truck jerked. Tires squealed. Jilly’s body slammed back and forth. She put her hands out and braced herself. Thank God her motor skills had returned.

  Cody watched helplessly as the truck hit the guard rail, then over-corrected, heading straight for the solid rock wall. He’d never felt more powerless.

  “God dammit, Bud, call off your dogs. They’re going to get Jilly killed.” Rage and panic warred within him. His hands clenched the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white.

  “I swear to God, if she’s hurt, I am going to fucking kill those idiots with my bare hands.” Cody heard Bud’s voice murmuring; he hoped he was talking into his radio.

  The flashing lights went dark. Cody feared the damage was already done. The killer was running scared. That wasn’t a good thing on a winding road like this. He held his breath as the truck lost control. It spun around and around, coming dangerously close to the edge of the road.

  The edge of the mountain.

  A sheer drop into the abyss.

  Then it happened.

  As if he were watching some sick horror flick in slow motion, the truck broke through the guardrail.

  Airborne.

  Headlights soared several feet into the gray dawn. Then they flipped downward, disappearing over the side of the cliff.

  Cody slammed on his brakes. “No!”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Reverend Samuel Miller stood in Bridget’s daughters’ room while they slept. His excitement at finally meeting these angels in person was almost more than he could bear. His nervous anticipation had his palms sweating.

  His heart fluttered like a first date.

  He’d carried the photo in his shirt pocket close to his
heart. Easily accessible. It was well-worn and dog-eared from stealing glances whenever possible. His compulsion had become so powerful; he’d finally displayed the picture where he could gaze at it longingly while he drove. It gave him a permanent hard-on.

  He’d incapacitated Bridget so he could focus solely on the girls. His girls. They were like a beacon in the night. The closer he came to California, the faster he drove. He didn’t need sleep; his adrenaline kept him awake. His motivation was having them within reach. To touch their silken skin. To gaze into their big blue eyes. To worship them in person.

  They would each have their own bedroom in the cabin they would share, so he could cherish them separately without distraction. He’d thought of everything. His body shook with eagerness. He was finally here. They would soon be his.

  The full moon bathed the room in a soft seductive light. God had provided the perfect ambiance for their first meeting. It couldn’t have been better if he’d planned it himself. With the chloroform-soaked handkerchief in one hand, he reached out with the other for the blanket covering the child’s head.

  His boys always buried themselves while they slept. He had constantly warned them of the danger. He feared they’d suffocate in their sleep. He pulled back gently, ready to mask her nose and mouth, but instead of his delightful companion, he found pillows. He rushed to the other bed and threw back the bedspread only to find the same. Suddenly a bright light filled the room.

  Thomas sat in the surveillance van with Meagan and Shadowhawk while they watched Samuel Miller enter the house. He checked on the girls, and then went directly to the master bedroom.

  “I told you that recording of my niece sleeping would keep him from looking at the girls too closely,” Shadowhawk said.

  “You’re right, that was brilliant,” he replied.