“Who are you?” she asked, taking a step backward.
“It’s nice to see you again, Miss Bloom.”
Her mind raced to decipher his voice and couldn’t find a possible source. “How did you get a key?”
The man entered the cabin and closed the door behind him. “You don’t remember me? You and I had such a connection a few weeks ago.”
Terra braced against the dining room table and realization dawned. On the night of her abduction she never heard or saw the man who took her, though she recalled his scent: a rustic mixture of male sweat and stale cologne. It assaulted her nostrils now. “You’re Joca Ryan, Spencer Hack’s little stooge.”
“I’m more of his right hand man.”
“You’re a piece of shit,” she spat, trying to remember in what drawer she kept the kitchen knife. “What have you done with Seth?”
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Spencer’s got him on a bit of time warp. As a matter of fact, he would like to see you.”
Terra dashed to the kitchen and grabbed the first thing she could see—a frying pan—and wielded it at him. “Stay away from me. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You don’t get a choice in the matter. Spencer’s been chasing you for a long time.” Joca advanced toward her until the island was the only thing separating them. “You must come with me.”
“No, not until you explain to me how you found us. I personally dug Seth’s tracker out of his fucking wrist! There is no way you could’ve found me.”
“I’m not giving away my secrets, honey.” Joca’s next moves were so fast it took Terra a moment to feel the sharp prick in her arm. She gazed down and found a metal dart jabbed into her skin. Though she gasped and flicked it away furiously, the drug had already taken affect. Her knees weakened and she clawed at the bench to support her sudden weight.
“What did you do to me?” The words left her lips in a whisper as she slipped to the cold tiles.
Joca appeared over her, hovering like a grotesque version of an angel. “You slipped the leash, Terra. You deserve everything that’s coming to you.”
A dark cloud overcame her and she passed out.
***
Seth wandered through the convoluted maze of the festival, the sun warming the nape of his neck. The football field was a lot larger than he’d anticipated so it took twenty minutes to do one circuit. As he admired stalls selling homemade trinkets, decades old MP3 players, knickknacks, clothes, and even farm animals, Seth couldn’t ignore the impending sense of closure. He had a chance to know the man who took his mother away. He was rarely given such an opportunity.
Seth sought to transform this unexpected business trip into a pleasurable one, having never been to Enfield on holiday. He bought a chocolate éclair at a nearby stall and nibbled on it while he continued the search for Sonny. The one thing he couldn’t ignore were the leering stares from the locals. He stood out with his shoulder length black hair, five o’clock shadow, and a t-shirt stolen from a Goodwill. He assumed international tourists never flocked to the little town like they did with New London. His main prerogative was to find Sonny Day and get out of Dodge before people suspected him of something more than a tourist. Time was running out.
He approached a stall selling leather goods and waved at the owner. “Hey, do you know where I can find Sonny Day?”
The older man gave Seth a questioning glance. “Sonny, eh? He’s here, but I don’t know how he’ll react to a stranger looking for ‘im.”
“Why’s that?”
“We look after each other around here and Sonny’s one of our own. I admit he’s been through some things, and I’ve seen many search for him. Many of them looked like you.”
“Well, old timer, I’m one of the good guys,” Seth lied. “I’m going into business with Sonny and I’ve come all the way from New York to meet him. I wouldn’t want my trip to be a waste.”
The man’s upper lip thinned. “All right. You’ll find him at the secondhand book stall on the western side of the field.”
Seth thanked him and walked off, wondering why everyone he’d encountered was so protective of Sonny. What made him so different than the others? He had little personal information about Sonny at the time of the hit, and he didn’t care less about the man only knowing one thing: Sonny had murdered his mother.
Seth approached the stall and flipped through some books while Sonny served other customers.
“See anything you like, sir?” Sonny greeted him with a smile, a simple gesture that boiled Seth’s blood. He was dressed in a woolen sweater and faded jeans, looking like a normal citizen, concealing the creature that lay underneath.
“Nah, just looking.”
“You’re a Yank. We don’t get many of you around here.”
“You don’t say.” Seth rummaged through a pile of books in front of him. “You don’t see a lot of hard copy books in this digital age. Do you happen to have The Count of Monte Cristo by Dumas?”
A slow grin appeared on Sonny’s face. “Ah, a wonderful tale of revenge and murder. You’ve got great taste. I sold the last copy yesterday, however I can get more if you’re interested.”
Seth waved his hand in the air. “Don’t bother. I’ll be leaving town by morning. I was hoping to read the classic for some inspiration.” He noticed the corner of Sonny’s lips stiffen. What was he hiding? Was there more to him than Seth realized?
“Who are you?” Sonny asked, his shoulders squaring defensively. “I’ve never seen you around here. We rarely get international tourists, including Americans. Barwon told me to expect you. What’s your real purpose? I don’t believe your reader bullshit.”
Seth quickly surveyed the festival for security in case things got out of hand. No one was in sight. He removed his sunglasses and hooked them in his collar. “You might not recognize me, though you will in about six months’ time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“My name’s Seth Langdon. You will make a choice tomorrow night that will destroy the lives of many people, including my family.”
Sonny crossed his arms over his chest, unimpressed. “Okay, what did I possibly do in the near future that will affect you so?”
“You will kill another woman.”
The smugness slipped off his face. “Who did you say you were again?”
“I’m not a police officer, but you’ll find me to be much worse.” Seth could almost taste the fear rolling off the man’s body and he took full advantage of it. “I know who you are, Sonny Day. You’re a murderer and I’ll return to Enfield in six months to take your life.”
In what Seth assumed to be a burst of adrenaline and fear, Sonny leaped over the stall and disappeared into the crowd. Seth didn’t bother to chase him, though he hoped his threat would change Sonny’s actions in the future. He knew there was nothing he could do to change his mother’s tragic outcome; however, he took some joy in seeing the man squirm.
Chapter Seventeen
Sonny raced home and slammed the front door behind him, his lungs burning. He’d abandoned the festival so fast he left his car in the parking station. None of that mattered anymore because a stranger knew his secret.
For years, he’d tried to bury the sickness, the unmentionable feeling the sight of spilled blood gave him. Once his mother died, the beast inside him consumed all his thoughts until it was suffocating. At first it was prostitutes or homeless women feeding his insatiable hunger, until it wasn’t enough, and local, well respected girls filled the void. For years, he’d extinguished the lives of the town’s daughters, sisters, wives, and aunts, and they were powerless to stop him. How could one man wield so much power over a community?
They feared him because they knew his secret, and knew he wasn’t a man to be reasoned with. They shielded him from accusation every time a body was discovered half-buried in the woods. The last time he was arrested by a rookie cop, he escaped and murdered two women. It was repulsive and unnecessary to a
ct out this way. It was all he knew. He was an untamed creature, living in a perfect utopia. Until now. Life had been pretty easy until Seth Langdon turned up to rock the boat.
Sonny kicked off his shoes and wandered down the hallway, not bothering to turn on the light. He always found the darkness assuasive, especially when something had him rattled.
He reached the end of the hall and unlocked a door. The metallic stench of rusting tools, rotting flesh, and damp air ignited his confidence. This was his domain and no one could change that.
He switched on the light and drew his gaze to the decomposing body of a young woman he found dumped behind the canning factory downtown. She wasn’t from around here. He knew every woman who lived and breathed in Enfield and didn’t recognize her porcelain skin and blonde hair.
Something stirred below his belt and Sonny felt the need to shed his shirt. He climbed on top of the corpse and straddled her. Normally, he didn’t like to delve into others’ works, but it’d been three weeks since his last kill and pressure was building.
He ran a finger down the woman’s ice cold cheek and spoke to her as if she was alive and breathing.
“I don’t know who you are, but you’re one of the finest specimens I’ve ever seen. I’ve never told anyone this. I’m a sucker for a fair, blonde haired woman. Someone left you for me to find and I wish to thank them. You’re truly a gift from God and it will be our secret.” His eyes fell onto a tattoo under her left breast. “Though I’m disappointed to find you’re tarnished, I will make an exception this time.” He studied it closer and felt the air dissipate from his lungs. In a faded love heart was the words:
Trix and Seth 4ever
Sonny leapt off the corpse so quickly he almost face planted the ground. It all made sense now. Seth Langdon was here because of this woman. How on earth did Trix get to Enfield without Sonny knowing? Any outsider who posed a threat was asked to leave town without making a scene, however Langdon wouldn’t be so easily swayed. Sonny glanced at Trix’s body remorsefully and realized he had to let her go. Angry husbands and boyfriends were a force not to be fucked with. He would have to fulfill his need in another way, scouring the streets for second best.
Sonny put his shirt back on and left the room, not bothering to lock the door. He headed to his study and picked up the phone, dialing a number.
“Lions Head Hotel, Barwon speaking.”
“It’s me.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, I was wondering where you were. You never returned my calls. Did Seth Langdon find you?”
“He did.”
“What does he want?”
“That was quite odd. He knew of my extracurricular activities and told me I would kill again in a matter of days. What kind of bullshit is that, eh? How does he know?”
“Is that a nervous quiver I can hear in your voice?” Barwon asked. “No one can predict the future, Sonny. I did a background check on him. Seth Langdon’s from New York and fresh out of college. I can’t tell you how he knows about your activities, but maybe ask the police to escort him from town before he uncovers too much.”
“He already knows too much, Barwon. Look, I can’t risk it. I’ll deal with him later, okay?”
“All right. Is there anything you want me to do?”
“No. Leave Seth alone. Don’t fuck with his water or rig some sort of bomb in his room. I want him unharmed.’
“Got it. Keep me posted, buddy.”
“Will do.” Sonny hung up and stared at a spot on the wall, his head swimming. He couldn’t risk killing Seth and bringing unwanted attention to the town. A murdered international tourist didn’t bode well for Enfield’s reputation. He walked back down the hall toward his kill room, one thing bobbing in his mind like a cork on water. Seth said he would return in six months’ time to kill him. There had been many threats leveled against his life over the years, however, Seth seemed more determined than most. Sonny couldn’t help but wonder if his unjust murders of women would eventually catch up to him.
***
If it wasn’t for an unruly bed spring, Seth would have slept well for the first time in months. He tossed and turned until he couldn’t take it anymore and threw his pillow across the room. He climbed out of bed and headed for the mini bar where he downed a glass of sherry.
Even if he had slept, his dreams would be fractured nightmares of the people he’d hurt. Every time he closed his eyes, the misshapen and moaning faces of David Bloom, Trix, and Terra haunted him. He truly believed he was sent to Enfield as punishment, purgatory for the damned. It certainly felt like Hell.
Self-doubt clouded his mind as the alcohol settled in his empty gut. Seth sat in an armchair opposite the bed, cloaked in darkness, cursing himself for not taking the chance of killing Sonny. What if he had killed him right there at the festival, injecting him with poison or stabbing him in the heart with a pocket knife? What if he gave up on everything to avenge his mother’s death? What if Sonny’s death altered history and Haroun was nothing but legend?
What if?
Whether it was the sherry talking or his conscience breaking through the stupor, Seth decided to make a move, no matter what the cost. Possible jail time and prosecution didn’t matter anymore.
He searched through the bedside table and took out the phone book. He scanned through the Ds for Sonny’s name and address. When he found it, he almost cried out in triumph. It was time for justice!
He wrote down the address on a piece of paper and pocketed it. As he grabbed his keys, a shadow materialized underneath the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone tonight, though it didn’t surprise him to have a guest at this hour. His presence at the festival had probably pissed some people off.
Wordlessly, Seth collected his pistol from the bed and clicked the safety off. Not wanting to make a sound, he pressed his back against the wall and reached for the doorknob. He didn’t carry a silencer, so his attack must be quick and deadly. Then the stranger did something he wasn’t expecting. A white envelope slid into view. He could see the person linger for a moment and then walking away. Seth waited a few heartbeats and opened the door, searching the hallway for the mysterious figure. There was no one in sight.
He picked up the envelope and felt its weight in his hands. It was too light to house explosives, but could be laced with anthrax or other airborne contagions. Not wanting to risk it, he slipped on a pair of dishwashing gloves from the kitchenette and opened the envelope. Inside was a single note written in cursive handwriting.
Seth,
When I first found her body dumped in an alleyway, I thought she’d fallen from Heaven, an angel for me to play with. It was as if God had always known about my sickness and granted me permission. Once you arrived in town, I knew she was yours. I don’t want to fight you. I already have too many demons in my closet to add one more. You will find your love bound in a sheet behind the library on Walker Street. Don’t worry; she’s all in one piece. I hope this will satisfy your own demons.
SD
Seth inhaled a shaky breath and stared at the note until the words blurred. His mother’s body had been found behind the same library exactly twenty-four hours later. He remembered seeing the cracked brickwork and soiled glass windows in the crime scene photos. Whether Sonny dumped Trix’s body at the location on purpose or as a coincidence, he wasn’t sure. However, there was one thing he was sure about: Trix was returning to New York tonight.
He collected his things, turned off the light, and closed the door behind him. It was three hours until dawn and birds were stirring in the trees. Seth kept to the shadows, not wanting to attract attention. The town was on alert after his arrival and he couldn’t afford a night in a prison cell.
As he wandered the backstreets, a bittersweet feeling settled in his chest. He was finally able to retrieve Trix’s body, but was concerned in what condition she may be in. She had died over a week ago from a bullet to the head. The thought of her decomposing corpse only added more pressure to the situation. Seth
didn’t know if he could handle the sight.
He crested the hill and saw the library bathed in moonlight. From his position, he noticed the vicinity was unguarded. He followed a track down the decline and began his search of the grounds.
Empty beer bottles, half smoked cigarettes, and bongs hid among the tall blades of grass. A soiled mattress was submerged in a muddy puddle, once the meeting place for local teenagers. However, judging by the rotten and moldy food lying around, it had been a while since anyone had partied here.
Seth circled the back of the library and something caught his eye immediately. Lying under a beam of moonlight was a humanoid figure wrapped in a bed sheet. At first, Seth couldn’t move, his limbs locked with unease and trepidation.
He knelt down beside the body, holding his breath. Hesitantly, he peeled back the bed sheet and let out a cry at the sight of Trix’s porcelain white skin, now deadly cold. He sat unmoving for five minutes staring at her face. To his surprise, she looked well preserved, the gunshot wound cleaned and hidden by locks of hair.
Sonny’s work.
Seth felt oddly grateful for the man’s obscure and sick ways.
Despite their differences, he loved Trix with all of his heart. He couldn’t simply switch off the emotion now that she was gone. He still felt deeply as if she was breathing now. If it wasn’t love he felt, it must be hate. Hate for Spencer Hack. He needed to end things now before he lost more loved ones.
He carefully patted down Trix’s form to see if Sonny had left any personal effects behind and found a note hidden in the folds of the sheet. He didn’t recognize the handwriting, though was surprised it was addressed to him.
Seth,
Rogue Agent Page 17