by Mary Burton
“Can you still hear me?” he asked.
The voice came through a small earpiece. He barely sounded winded as he ran. “I can.”
Agent Jackson had assembled a tactical team that was now gathering a mile behind her in a church parking lot. Ramsey had been dropped off near the base of Mecum’s driveway and was moving up through the woods toward the cabin with a long rifle.
“Good. Remember, talk to him. I should be in position in five minutes. Go as slow as you can up the driveway. When you arrive, I’ll key off what you tell me.”
“Understood.”
She drove very slowly toward the twin pillars marking his driveway, searching the trees for any sign of cameras or Ramsey. She saw neither.
She slowed at the pillars and then turned up the long tree-lined driveway that stretched almost a quarter of a mile. When she saw the house nestled against the ground, tension twisted every muscle in her body.
“I don’t see signs of the van,” she muttered. “House is as Andy described. One story. Windows are shuttered. No shrubs around the house.”
“I can see the house,” he said. “Mecum has a clear view of the driveway from his porch. You’re in a bottleneck.”
“I know.” She parked and stepped out of the car. She held out her hands and shouted, “I’m here!”
Wind whistled through the trees, rustling the leaves. Branches creaked. The house remained still and quiet. Her skin crawled. Wherever he was, he was watching.
“Be cool,” Ramsey said.
She did not respond. Her heart hammered in her chest.
And then the front door opened slowly. She saw Mecum’s outline. He did not speak, but she knew the open door was not an invitation. It was an order.
And then Elena stumbled into view as Mecum pulled her forward. The girl looked so small and her face was tight with fear. Tears streaked her cheeks.
As tempted as Melina was to race inside and see Elena, she held her ground. Once she stepped inside that house, her tactical advantage would be greatly diminished.
“Melina?” Her voice was heavy with sleep and brittle with fear.
“I’m right out here, Elena,” she said. “Come to me.”
“I can’t.” The child started to weep. “Please come get me.”
Melina took two steps toward the house.
“Careful,” Ramsey warned. “Careful. I’ve got a bead on him.”
She paused before she climbed the porch’s front steps. “I’m not moving until you show yourself, Mecum.”
Silence crackled and then Elena vanished from sight and screamed.
Melina pulled her weapon. “Show your face,” she growled.
“That’s not how this game works.” The voice that came from the house was deep and smooth. It sounded more suited to a boardroom. “First, turn the car around and pop the trunk and open all the doors. I want to make sure you’re alone.”
She slid back behind the wheel and moved the car around. As instructed, she opened the trunk and all the doors. “See, it’s empty.”
“Very good, Melina. We’re going to get along well if you can keep following orders.”
“How does it work?” she asked.
“You come inside and visit for a spell.”
“As soon as I see Elena. I need to know she’s all right.”
More silence crackled.
“His tone is arrogant,” Ramsey whispered. “He believes he has all the cards. Hold your ground until you see the child.”
“Show me Elena,” Melina shouted.
“Drop your weapon,” the man said.
Melina removed her SIG from the holster and set it on the porch.
“Any knives?” He sounded almost amused.
She removed a switchblade from her boot and set it next to the SIG. She dangled her cuffs from her finger.
“What else?” he coaxed.
“That’s it.”
“Take your clothes off,” Mecum ordered. “I need to be sure.”
She didn’t move.
“I’ve all night,” he said. “But I’m not sure you do.”
“Let me see her.”
The door creaked open a little wider, and the little girl stepped onto the threshold. She looked sleepy, her eyes red and her cheeks streaked with tears.
“I had to crack an ammonia capsule to wake her up. She was out cold,” Mecum said.
“Do as he says,” Ramsey said quietly.
She smiled at Elena. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I’m scared,” Elena said.
“Nothing to be scared of, honey.” Melina dropped the cuffs and shrugged off her jacket, and then dropped it to the ground.
“I beg to differ,” Mecum said.
Melina concentrated on keeping her expression mild and relaxed as she looked at Elena. She winked at the child and then shifted her gaze to inside the cabin door where Mecum lurked.
“How many?” she said. “How many so-called dates did you have?”
She felt him studying her from the shadows. “Why do you want to know? It’s just you and me now.”
“Just curious.” She began to unbutton her shirt slowly. “I could tell by the setup in your van that you know what you’re doing.”
“I’m well versed,” he said. “But if you think we’re going to have a heartfelt conversation, you’re wrong. You’re not as smart as me, but I bet you’re wearing a wire.”
When she had first encountered him, he had been looking for a prostitute. He had been looking for sex and most importantly control. She removed her blouse and dropped it to the ground. The warm evening air brushed across her bare skin. “No wire.” She reached for the strap of her bra and lowered it slowly to her shoulder.
His gaze shifted to her chest and darkened with an intense energy.
Running her hand over her breast, she toyed with the clasp between her breasts. “See? No wire.”
“I’m not convinced,” he said.
She knew he wanted to see her breasts, so instead of removing the bra she started on her slacks. She unfastened the top button and unzipped them as she toed off her shoes. “I’ll take it all off for you, if you let the girl go.”
Elena stared at her, and though Mecum said nothing, she could feel his gaze on her.
“You’re a tease,” he said.
“You want me to stop?” she challenged.
“Keep going,” he ordered.
The pants slid down her legs and collected around her ankles. Slowly, she stepped out of them and kicked them aside so she would be unencumbered by them if she needed to move quickly. She arched her back, giving him a better view of her breasts.
Mecum stepped outside.
He was dressed in pressed khakis and a blue button-down shirt. He was clean shaven, and his hair was neatly trimmed and brushed off his face. He held a very long shiny hunting blade to the girl’s side.
“Very nice, Melina,” he said. “What else can you show me?”
She narrowed her focus to his face, shutting out Elena’s fear. “This is your show. You tell me.”
He gently brushed his hand over the little girl’s head, pushing back a strand of dark hair. “She’s a pretty little thing. She could be your child. Is she related to you?”
“No.”
“You care about her a lot. So did Sonny.”
“You killed Bonnie and Sonny?”
“I was doing you a favor. This should please you.”
“I’m moving on the count of three. One.” Ramsey’s voice whispered in her ear.
She reached for the second strap of her bra and coaxed it down her shoulder. She took another step closer, knowing the cups of her bra had loosened and her breasts looked as if they would tumble out.
Mecum’s gaze dropped to her breasts. He tightened his grip on the knife handle, but the tip eased away from the child as his attention shifted more to her.
“You like what you see?” she said.
“You know I do,” Mecum said.
“Two,
” Ramsey said.
“We’ll get this party started as soon as you set Elena free.” She knew Ramsey was close but did not dare a glance toward the woods.
Mecum released the girl. The move was not conciliatory, but slightly condescending. He thought he was toying with Melina. “I can be nice.”
“So can I,” she said. “If you do it my way. I saw what was in your van, and I’m not afraid. I’m intrigued.”
He moistened his lips. “You’re a tough one. It’s going to be a pleasure breaking you. Wait until little Elena hears you cry in pain.”
“Draw him out more. I can’t get a clear shot,” Ramsey whispered.
“Is that a yes or a no?” she asked.
“There’s plenty of time for that.” Mecum stepped forward, pulling the girl with him. They were less than a few feet from Melina.
The next few seconds played out in slow motion. Mecum stepped away from Elena, edging across the porch toward her like a crouched mountain lion stalking prey. Elena drew back, grateful to have Mecum’s attention off of her. Melina held Mecum’s gaze. She cupped her breast, feeling more naked without her gun than her blouse. Mecum approached her, moving farther away from the door.
“Three!” Ramsey shouted.
A gunshot fired and Mecum took a step back. The bullet grazed his shoulder. In the movies, bodies recoiled when a bullet entered the body. However, in real life, humans often held steady. Instead of falling, they kept moving forward as adrenaline kicked into high gear.
Mecum did exactly that. He staggered, glanced briefly at the blooming blood on his shirt, and then whirled around, grabbing Elena and dragging her to her feet. He raised the knife, ready to stab her in the chest.
Melina scooped her knife off the ground, and with the flick of a switch, the blade popped open. Mecum gripped the girl’s hair and dragged her back in the house.
This close range, she could kill him as quickly with a knife as a gun.
Yelling in fury, he lashed his blade toward Melina, gouging her side. Pain seared through the adrenaline as she raised the knife and drove it into his chest.
Mecum raised his gaze to her, his fury exploding. “Bitch.”
She stood, hands flexed, Mecum’s blood dripping from her fingers. “Back at you.”
Mecum lunged forward, howling in rage, just as Ramsey fired a second and third shot. Pop, pop.
Both bullets struck Mecum in the chest and he fell backward. She raced forward, her gaze on the knife in his hand. As she approached, he jerked the knife forward, but she easily dodged it as he fell back.
Mecum released his grip on the girl and Melina yanked the child free, gathering her up in her arms. She held the child’s trembling body close. She remembered the extreme fear she had felt when Bonnie had abandoned her, and then she recalled the sense of relief that had followed when her father had found her.
Melina turned from the door and shielded Elena’s body with her own as they dropped to a crouch. She turned from the scene, covering the child’s eyes. Elena wrapped her arms around Melina’s neck. “Melina.”
“It’s okay, Elena.”
Her side burned and she could feel the blood staining her underpants and soaking Elena’s dress. She looked down and knew the wound was deep. Ramsey’s hurried footsteps pounded across the yard and up the stairs to the porch.
“You’re bleeding,” Elena said.
“It’s okay,” Melina lied.
Ramsey cuffed Mecum before confirming he was dead and called Jackson to move in with his team. He also ordered an ambulance.
“Melina,” Ramsey said.
“He cut me,” she said. Whatever physical damage Mecum had done to her would most likely heal. Most likely. All that mattered was that Elena was okay.
He tried to pry the girl from her arms, but Elena squealed and held tight. With no choice, he led the two to the edge of the porch and helped her sit down.
In the distance sirens wailed. Melina could feel her head starting to spin, and she blinked to clear her vision. “It’s starting to sting a little.”
“Elena,” Ramsey ordered. “Come to me.”
“I want Melina!” she shouted.
“She’s hurt,” he said. “Can you help me fix her cut?”
“It’s okay, Elena.” Melina watched as the police car’s lights bounced off the trees.
The girl went to Ramsey as the paramedic raced to the porch. Melina fell back against the wood surface, her vision narrowing.
Ramsey pulled off his jacket and balled it up, pressing it firmly against her side. She winced and hissed in a breath.
“Ouch!” Melina’s eyes widened as her mind cleared.
“It’s bleeding a lot.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
He held the pressure steady against the wound. “You take too many chances,” he said.
“Not as many this time.” She looked over at Mecum’s body, knowing how close she had come to dying at his hands not once but twice.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he growled.
She smiled up at him. “What a sweet thing to say.”
The paramedic came up beside Ramsey, ordering him to step aside. Ramsey hesitated but complied.
“Call my mother,” Melina said. “She needs to know Elena is okay.”
Ramsey nodded in agreement. “She has every right.”
Melina smiled up at him, doing her best to stay calm. “Are you going to make a fuss?”
“Maybe.” He cupped her face. “Yeah, definitely.”
The sirens grew loud and she heard men shouting. “I think I might be looking forward to that.”
EPILOGUE
Wednesday, September 9, 11:00 a.m.
Melina shifted on the couch in her parents’ den and readjusted her earbuds. Her father was currently watching a classic football game—a.k.a. the 1971 Super Bowl. Super Bowl V featured the matchup of the Dallas Cowboys versus the Baltimore Colts. Her father fast-forwarded to all of the eleven turnovers and to the final scoreboard: Colts, 16, and Dallas, 13. In her lifetime, she had seen this game at least a dozen times. As much as she hated watching it, she found comfort in the sameness of her father’s habits.
When Dad had keyed up the game, her mother had taken Elena into the kitchen, offering to bake cookies.
Melina tried to rise and follow, but the gash in her side tugged painfully. The stitches had come out yesterday with doctor’s orders to take it easy and stay off her feet a few more days. As much as she wanted to rush recovery, a relapse meant more time at home with her parents, whom she dearly loved but who were also driving her as insane as she was driving them.
Easing back on the couch, she selected a podcast. She closed her eyes, refocusing on the narrator’s rich voice, which made murder almost appealing.
Instead of losing herself in a long-ago solved case, she saw Mecum’s face. He came at her, wielding a knife and cutting her flesh. There was pure, raw delight in his dark gaze. He did not seem human.
She opened her eyes and pulled out her earbuds, shifting her gaze to her father, inspecting turnover number eight. Three to go. Game almost over.
Elena giggled in the kitchen, and the delightful sound chased away the fury and outrage directed at the man who had taken the lives of thirteen women.
Mecum had started killing in 1998, not 1999 as first thought, while he was still living in Georgia. Over the next five years, six prostitutes had been murdered. The bodies were almost completely decomposed, but the medical examiner had noted that each victim had suffered multiple broken bones and the cause of death for each had been strangulation.
Two of those six prostitutes had vanished from Savannah, Georgia, where he had a vacation home. More died in Baltimore and in Wilmington, North Carolina, and the final two died in Nashville during the summer.
Mecum had a type and he never wavered from his profile. Young, under thirty, and with dark hair and pale skin. He had preferred very small-boned women.
Sonny had brought so much evil, but
a part of her felt sorry for the tortured soul who had lost so much. Bonnie had spent years manipulating him. When she was arrested and he was left alone, his fears of abandonment had been realized. She understood what that felt like, and there was even a trace of pity in her for Bonnie. Jordie Tanner, the long-haul trucker with the surveillance cameras in his yard, had provided footage that had captured Bonnie racing down the street seconds before she had crashed her car by accident—not on purpose, as they had first theorized.
Whatever tender feelings she’d had for the man she knew as Sam faded as the FBI identified each of the fingers found in Sonny’s pickle jar and the one Ramsey had found in his kitchen cabinet. That appendage had belonged to Tammy West, whose body had been discovered in her bathtub.
The women who had vanished in the cities other than Nashville went missing about the time Sonny had been in their cities with one of the bands he managed. Several of the men who had worked with Sonny on the road said that whenever the road crew had a night off, they went out drinking. The one exception had been Sonny, who had always said he had a date with a local girl. One had even produced a picture of Cindy Patterson, who had gotten a backstage pass.
Melina was frustrated with herself and for several nights had trouble sleeping. However, slowly the controlled chaos of her parents’ house, now filled with Elena’s laughter and growing collection of toys, reminded her she had gotten a few things right.
Elena’s and her mother’s giggles trailed out from the kitchen. Melina shifted her torso, winced, and pushed up off the couch. She’d had no idea how critical abdominal muscles were until she did not have the use of hers. More core work at the gym was a must now.
“You’re supposed to be resting, kiddo,” her father said without looking away from the television.
“I’m going in the kitchen to see what the girls are baking.”
“Turnover number nine is about to happen. Give me a second . . .”
“That’s okay, Dad.” She kissed him on the forehead. “I’d rather have a cookie.”
“Send some in for me, will you?”