Depraved

by Bryan Smith

  She was trapped.

  There was one clear course of action available to her, but to make it work she had to get her ass in gear right now. She turned away from the Nova and jogged back across the lawn to Larry’s porch. She went inside the house and found a panel of light switches just inside the door. She flipped them all down and the floodlights cut out, drawing a welcome blanket of obscuring black across the lawn.

  Then back out of the house and across Larry’s lawn at full speed, the .38 held down at her side as she raced across the street. Her feet pounded across the lawn of the other house, and in moments she was standing on a dark porch, free hand wrapped around the doorknob.

  She tried it.

  Locked. Of course.

  She stepped back and aimed the gun at the knob.

  She bit her bottom lip and squeezed off one shot. Then another. Then she kicked the splintered door open and stepped into deeper darkness. She reached out with one hand and found a row of light switches. She flipped them up and light flooded a small foyer and adjacent living room. She heard a startled whimper from somewhere in the house. At the end of a foyer was a dark archway leading into another room. To her right was a short staircase leading to a second floor.

  Jessica held her breath and listened.

  The whimper didn’t come again, but she was able to detect the sound of a person breathing rapidly in and out. It was the sound of fear and panic. She could almost smell it radiating from her quarry. She moved slowly toward the dark archway, and the hardwood floor creaked beneath her steps. The whimper came again. Hearing it made Jessica feel like a predator. A killer. Which was apt. She was those things. It was what circumstance had forced her to become.

  She reached out and found another row of light switches as she stepped through the archway. She turned on the lights and saw a balding fat man in a bathrobe clutching a portable phone. They were in a small kitchen. The man stood with his back against the stove.

  Jessica kept the gun on him and moved closer. “Calling the cops, William?”

  The man blinked, startled to hear his name spoken by this gun-wielding stranger. “How do you know my name?”

  “Larry told me.”

  “Larry’s dead.”

  “Yep. What did you tell the cops, William?”

  He stretched an arm out, holding the phone with a shaking hand. “Couldn’t get through. Number just rings and rings.”

  Jessica was close enough now to snatch the phone from his trembling fingers. She jabbed the gun against his gut and said, “What’s the number?”

  He told her.

  Jessica punched the number in and held the phone to her ear. She listened as it rang more than twenty times. She clicked a button to cancel the call and tossed the phone over her shoulder. It landed with a clatter on the linoleum floor.

  “Today might be your lucky day, William. I might not have to kill you after all.”

  His eyes were wet with tears. He sniffled. “Oh, bless you…bless you…”

  “Shut up.”

  William’s mouth snapped shut, biting off yet another bless you.

  Jessica pushed the .38’s barrel harder into his gut. “You swear you were calling the cops? That wasn’t some other number you knew would just ring and ring.”

  His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. He sputtered for a moment, temporarily unable to articulate what he was thinking. It was clear to Jessica he’d never considered the idea. His reaction was more convincing than any verbal denial would have been.

  “Shut your mouth again, fat man. I know you didn’t do that.”

  William looked relieved.

  Jessica stepped away from him and waved the gun at the archway. “Let’s go out to the living room and get you situated.”

  William frowned as he shuffled away from the stove. “What do you mean, ‘situated’?”

  Jessica aimed the gun at the small of his back. She considered shooting him right then. It would be kinder to kill him when he wasn’t expecting it and couldn’t see it coming. But she didn’t apply pressure to the trigger. She’d killed so many people today. It would be nice to let just one live if she could.

  “I’m gonna tie you up so I don’t have to kill you. You got a problem with that, William?”

  He did not have a problem with that.

  In the living room, Jessica shoved a coffee table out of the way and had him lie down on his stomach in the center of the room. Directly opposite a long blue sofa was an entertainment center, housing the usual array of electronic equipment. Television, stereo, DVD player, cable box, and gaming system. She kept an eye onWilliam as she pulled the entertainment center away from the wall and looked at the profusion of dangling wires and cords. She wrapped a hand around several and stepped on the power strip on the floor. They came loose with one savage yank. She shoved the .38 in her waistband as she completed the slightly more complicated task of removing the connecting ends of the wires and cords from the various electronic devices.

  She carried the cords over to William and knelt next to him, dropping all but one of the cords on the floor as she yanked his arms up behind his back. She was rougher than she needed to be, eliciting a yelp of pain. It didn’t bother her to hurt him. She figured it would keep him intimidated. And an intimidated man was less likely to offer resistance. She wound the cord around his wrists multiple times, looping and winding it in opposing directions again and again. She gave the cord a twist after she was done. It was secure. Perhaps an especially determined man could get free of it after a lot of struggling, but for now it was more than good enough. She grabbed another cord and secured his ankles in similar fashion. She pulled his legs up toward his ass and used the remaining cords to tie his hands and feet together.

  When she was done, she stood up and rubbed her hands briskly together. “There. I don’t think you’re going anywhere for a while, William.”

  He didn’t say anything, just stared up at her bleakly.

  She frowned. “Anyone else live here?”

  He shook his head. “It’s just me. My wife left me last year.”

  “No chance of her coming by?”

  He shook his head again.

  “Good enough, I guess.” She pursed her lips as she thought. “I should probably gag you anyway.”

  She went back into the kitchen and searched through the drawers until she found a roll of duct tape. She returned to the living room, and Larry whimpered as he saw what she was holding. “Please don’t. I have panic attacks. I won’t be able to breathe.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to try your best not to panic, William.”

  She tore off a strip of silver tape, knelt next to him again, and slapped it over his mouth. She pulled more tape loose and wound another long strip of it around his head for good measure. She tossed the roll of tape aside and stood up.

  “Hang tight. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

  She went to the front door, started to pull it open, and pushed it shut again immediately. There was a car parked on the street outside Larry’s house. She couldn’t make out much in the way of details from here, but something about the shape of it unsettled her. She moved to one of the living-room windows, slipped two fingers between plastic blind slats, and took a longer look. This time she recognized the streamlined shape of a modern Crown Vic right away. She was even able to dimly discern what had to be the shape of a law-enforcement emblem on the side.

  Her heart started racing again.

  Fuck.

  She just couldn’t catch a goddamn break. Every time she thought she had things under control. Every time she believed she was about to finally slip free of this shit stain of a town. Every goddamn time some new roadblock of one kind or another got in her way. It was frustrating enough to make her want to stamp her foot like a spoiled child. But that wouldn’t do her any damn good. She’d come this far on pure guts and determination alone. Now was not the time to start unraveling. Besides, in a way she was still at least one step ahead of the gam
e. Maybe two.

  Yeah.

  There was just one cruiser out there.

  And she’d spotted them first.

  These things alone weren’t enough to guarantee things would break her way yet again, but they were enough to grant her a little bit of an edge. But she couldn’t afford to hesitate. More cops could show up soon. It could all come crashing down on her in the blink of an eye. She had to be primed and ready to act at the very first hint of real opportunity.

  The cruiser’s dome light came on.

  Jessica held her breath.

  Then she saw a big man heave himself out of the other side of the car. Big was a gargantuan understatement. The cop was even larger than the trussed-up wimp on the floor behind her. Yet another little tick on the list of things in her favor. She could move like the wind, even with a set of banged-up ribs. Porky there probably couldn’t go more than ten, fifteen yards without getting winded.

  The big cop went up to Larry’s Nova and shone a flashlight beam inside. He walked all the way around the vehicle, keeping a cautious distance as he meticulously inspected the interior. It occurred to Jessica to wonder why he’d stopped at this particular location to inspect this particular car. It seemed pretty random. Then a bit of knowledge gleaned from watching too much trashy TV late at night clicked in her head. Didn’t most cop vehicles these days have on-board surveillance video equipment?

  Jessica groaned.

  A scenario developed in her head. This cop here had happened across the abandoned cruiser she’d hijacked. He played back the videotape and saw everything. Her getting out of the cruiser. Leveling the gun at Larry. Driving away with him in the Nova, the camera getting a clear glimpse of the license plate before it was gone. Or…wait. That equipment wouldn’t be on all the time, would it? Surely it was only turned on whenever a traffic stop was made. Or…shit. Maybe it had been running from the moment the aborted chase had started. She wouldn’t have thought to look for it or turn it off in the aftermath of the crash, not when her only concern in the whole fucking world was getting far away from there. She didn’t know how any of that really worked, but she did know a few other things right away.

  She had to get out there and face down that cop.

  Then search his cruiser for damning evidence.

  And then maybe go back to the other cruiser to conduct a similar search.

  The cop knelt to look under the Nova, then heaved himself back to his feet again. He stood there huffing and puffing for a moment. Then he pulled a handkerchief from a jacket pocket and mopped sweat from his brow. After he wadded up the handkerchief and returned it to the pocket, he turned in a slow semicircle and played the flashlight beam over the lawn.

  Jessica’s mind screamed at her.

  GO!

  She went back to the door and eased it open, flipping the interior lights out an instant before she slipped outside. She hurried down the steps and stayed low to the ground as she hit the lawn and hauled ass toward the street. The moment the cop discovered the bodies was marked by his startled exclamation. By that point Jessica was in the road and only a few long strides away from the cruiser.

  The cop started to turn in her direction.

  Jessica dropped lower and scuttled toward the cruiser on her hands and knees. She reached the cruiser’s fender and stayed crouched there with hands wrapped tight around the butt of the .38.

  She heard the cop curse and start back toward the cruiser, muttering all the way. “Holy fucking Christ, what next? Ain’t like I ain’t got enough to deal with for one night.”

  Jessica shifted position slightly as he neared the vehicle, her calf muscles tensing as she raised herself a little higher and prepared to pounce.

  She heard the thump of his boots on asphalt.

  And more muttering: “Don’t get paid enough for this fuckin’ bullshit.”

  He was on the direct opposite side of the car now, breathing hard.

  Jessica sprang up and brought her weapon to bear.

  The cop gaped at her, surprise writ large in his wide eyes and the cartoonishly astonished set of his features. Then he dropped the flashlight and fumbled for the big handgun holstered at his side.

  Jessica never flinched.

  BANG!

  Pause.

  BANG!

  Two big holes in a big body.

  Sheriff Rich DeMars was dead before he hit the ground.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Abby got her dead sister’s body situated in a precarious position at the top of the stairs and gave it a hard shove in the ass with her bare foot. Michelle let out a startled yelp as the corpse came crashing down into the cellar, landing in an awkward heap at the foot of the stairs. Abby descended the stairs and stood with her hands on her hips on the last step as she stared at the body. One of Laura’s arms had folded up under her torso at a bad angle, snapping at the elbow. A shard of bone protruded through a rip in the skin. Her neck was broken, too. All of which would’ve added up to a hell of a lot of bad news for her sweet little sister if the bitch hadn’t already been dead. Dead, and with a bashed-up face even a Kincher would have a hard time loving.

  She stepped over the body and seized it by the ankles, then huffed and grunted as she dragged it to the darker far end of the cellar. She found a dirty blanket on a shelf and used it to cover the body. The blanket didn’t quite cover Laura head to toe. Her bare feet and the top of her ruined head were visible. But Abby was satisfied. No one would think to look for Laura down here for hours, and maybe not even until morning.

  The key was on the same shelf the blanket had occupied. So were Michelle’s clothes. Abby grabbed the key and the clothes and hurried over to where Michelle impatiently waited. She noted the wary look in the woman’s eyes as she approached. It stung a little, but Abby wasn’t surprised. Anyone would exhibit a similar expression in the presence of a demonstrably dangerous person. Abby would have to find a way to reassure her yet again, make her see that she was only dangerous when threatened. She had killed her own sister for this woman. Had done it for both of them. Surely she could see and understand that.

  Abby knelt and set the folded clothes on the cellar floor. Before standing up again, she took a long look at the ugly blisters on the woman’s feet and felt a twinge of shame and remorse. She remembered laughing at Michelle as she lowered her bound feet into the pot of boiling water. Remembered mocking her and slapping her as she screamed and her feet sizzled.

  She hesitated a moment longer, unable to tear her eyes away from the terrible sight.

  “I forgive you.”

  Abby blinked, looked up at Michelle’s face. “What?”

  “For what you did. I forgive you.”

  Abby’s eyes misted, and a sob temporarily rendered speech impossible. The surge of emotion surprised her. She had done similar things to many other outsiders. Worse things. Like the time she’d punctured a man’s balls with a screwdriver. Or the time she had pulled a woman’s fingernails out with pliers. Things she had thought of as fun at the time. Interesting ways to kill time and amuse herself. And except for that time Ma had gutted that little boy, none of it had ever bothered her much. The outsiders were just human-shaped bags of meat. Dinner and holiday offerings.

  Abby sniffled. “How can you forgive me?”

  Michelle smiled, an expression that belied the tension evident in her coiled muscles. “Because you’re just a product of your environment, Abby. You never knew any better. Hell, you’re barely more than a child yourself, which makes you as much a victim as anybody.”

  Abby squinted at her.

  She didn’t know about that victim bit. But damned if it didn’t speak to some private, achingly hopeful part of her psyche in a powerful way. She wanted to believe what Michelle was saying. Wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything. She didn’t want to think she was a bad person at heart.

  She blinked tears from her eyes.

  “Thank you for saying that. I can’t tell you how much—”

  Michelle
heaved an impatient sigh. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Please hurry.”

  Abby wiped more moisture from her eyes. “Sorry. I know you’re anxious to get loose.”

  She found a little footstool and used it to step up high enough to unlock the shackles around Michelle’s wrists. Michelle dropped heavily to her knees. Abby tossed the shackles and the attached chains to the ground, where they landed with a heavy clunk.

  Abby stepped off the stool and stared down at Michelle, who was rubbing her wrists and weeping quietly. Now it was Abby’s turn to feel wary. She didn’t know how Michelle might act, now that she was free. For a moment she felt like a complete fool. She knew nothing about this woman, other than she liked the way she looked and the way her warm, smooth skin felt beneath her fingers. She could only guess at her private thoughts. Could be she was thinking of ways she might ditch Abby after they were out of this place.

  She glanced at the blanket-covered form of her dead sister.

  The hell with it. It was too late for second thoughts.

  “Get your clothes on. We gotta get movin’.”

  Michelle fumbled for the clothes with shaking hands. They were the same clothes she’d been wearing the day Jesse Blaylock, the father of three of Laura’s children, had dragged her screaming into the cabin. Tight blue-jean cutoffs. A clingy purple V-neck T-shirt. Panties. Some kind of expensive sandals. But her lacy black bra was gone. No telling what had happened to it. As she admired the way Michelle’s heavy breasts hung loose in the tight T-shirt, she decided she was glad it had gone missing.

  Dressed now, Michelle smiled and extended a hand.

  “Friends?”

  Abby held her breath, allowed the hand to slide into one of her own. The way their fingers interlocked felt so good. So right. The renewed physical contact melted away most of her trepidation. She imagined the hand gliding over the smooth contours of her body and shivered as her nipples stiffened.