by S. E. Green
I don’t know all the ins and outs, but the investigation is still wide open. I imagine it has everything to do with recent mishandling of evidence within the county. The team of detectives wants to dot every “i” and cross every “t”. They can’t afford any more flubs.
All that aside, I imagine Mr. Strangler is laying way low. I still have no leads on additional properties he may be connected to, and I refuse to call Reggie. But the thing about laying low is that deviants eventually surface. They can’t stay low for long. They need whatever it is that drives them.
This I understand.
Slowly, I pull through the condominium parking lot, my eyes popping across all the vehicles. I don’t see any surveillance here.
I do spy Adam’s car, though, over in the corner under a tree. My Jeep slows as I eye his vacated Chevy. He’s up in the Garner’s condo right now, and I showed him how to get up there. What is he doing?
A part of me wants to sit back and see, but another nagging part tells me something’s wrong about this. Why would he go up in broad daylight?
Hide in plain sight. That thought comes to me and has me parking across the packed lot and behind the dumpster.
I make my way over to Adam’s car and sidle up beside it, taking a peek inside. It looks like it usually does—change in the cup holder, a toll road meter mounted to the window, a metal water bottle in the other cup holder, and a clean back seat.
I round to the trunk and using my lockpicks, I jimmy it open. I’m not sure what I expect to see, but the rolls of plastic and bags of dry cement are not it. Adam definitely has something planned.
Surely, he’s not going to use Patch and Paw’s cremation room again.
I had such high hopes for him, for us. I thought he was naïve, but really, I was the naïve one. He actually had me believing it was possible to have a true friend, that he and I saw the possibility in each other.
Hell, to think I almost let him completely in. The truth is, only my victims have seen the real me.
The side door to the building opens then, and Adam emerges. Or rather I know it’s Adam but others would not. He looks how he did in the videos from the hospital with a ball cap, no glasses, and a fake mustache.
Carefully, I back away from his car, ducking behind an SUV to watch. He crosses the parking lot to his vehicle and climbs inside. He cranks his engine and slowly pulls through the lot and around back to where a pool sits. What is he doing?
It’s quick, and if I wasn’t here staring I wouldn’t see what happens next. Dressed in his own disguise of a ball cap and dark shades, Mr. Garner emerges from the shadows of the trees, slips into the passenger side of Adam’s car, and slides all the way down so he’s not seen.
Adam begins weaving through the parking lot toward the exit, and I beeline it back over to my Jeep. I don’t know where they’re going, but I’m following.
I thought it before when I watched the hospital footage, and I’m thinking it now. Adam and the nurse seemed to know each other, and from what I saw just now, he definitely knows Mr. Garner.
I follow a safe distance, glad for the heavy traffic that will hide me, and my brain begins to pick through the details. The Garners were into some kinky stuff. As evidenced by all the videos, they had multiple sex partners. Is Adam one of them? Does this all boil down to Adam being a jealous lover? Is that why he took out Mrs. Garner?
Or did he and Mr. Garner plan all of this? Did they strangle those girls, all along framing Teddy, and decide to take out the nurse because she was the only witness?
Do they plan on eventually taking me out?
But then why would Adam send those photos to the cops to implicate Mr. Garner? Too many questions…
When his car takes the on-ramp, I merge and follow. I don’t know where they’re going, but my gut tells me it’s to the place where the girls were strangled. I’m about to find out one way or another how Mr. Strangler and Adam are connected.
59
I TRAIL THEM all the way to Loudoun County and into a cute little neighborhood with cottage style homes on big wooded lots. From a few lots over I watch as Adam pulls into the garage and closes the door.
The name on the mailbox says RUSK and it seems familiar. It only takes me a few seconds to piece it together. Mr. Strangler works for Rusk Engineering. This must be where clients stay when they visit the area.
No wonder I couldn’t find any additional properties connected to the Garners. There are none. They’ve been using this, and I have to say I’m impressed with the smarts behind it. Broad daylight, cute little place corporately owned, no one would think anything odd.
Every single blind in the house is swiveled shut, so I park on the far end of the property, tucked between two enormous maple trees. For a good ten minutes, I sit and watch the place, waiting to see if there is movement.
When nothing happens, I open the door and cross over the neatly cropped grass to the white picket fence.
For a second I stand, my gloved fingers locked around a wooden post, and I peer at the brick and wood cottage. Yes, this is where they do it. They lure their victims into this cute little place, park right there in the garage, do their erotic asphyxiation thing, load the body into the trunk, and dump it somewhere within a radius of Teddy’s house, effectively pointing fingers in his direction.
Even if Adam hasn’t told Mr. Garner that Ted is dead, Garner has to know Ted is currently at large. He has to know his continual dumping of bodies will only last so long. Maybe that’s why Adam cremated Mrs. Garner, he and Mr. Garner wanted to get a feel for that method of body disposal. They knew the random dumping of strangled girls was a temporary disposal method.
I back away slowly, feeling an absentminded smile climb into my cheeks. I’ve got you both now.
I move, climbing over the short fence, and as I do, something inside begins to pull me, seemingly yanking me over the fence. An unseen force that fills me and makes me a bit clumsy in its sudden power. It reminds me of being in the alley with Stabber Brother and how my body split, part of me there and another directing me, watching me.
A surge of anticipation moves me across the manicured lawn, and it’s only when I reach a window that I crouch and realize, other than my gloves, I have nothing on me. I left all my supplies in my Jeep. I take a second to look across the lot with all of its trees. The nearest house sits fifty or so yards away, with just as many trees on its lot.
I doubt anyone is watching, and if they were, they wouldn’t see me through all this foliage. Still, though, I round the cottage to the back and completely out of sight.
A window sits low and staying crouched, I peer inside. It’s a living room, normal enough, with nice fabric couches and a television. I keep going past the back door, around the small porch and come to the next window. It, too, sits low and the white blinds are shut tight.
I move a little bit, trying to find a spot in the blinds to see, and I line up with an inch gap where part of the blind is bent.
It’s a bedroom, I note, and like the living room, normal enough with carpet, a dresser, and a bed. As I bring my hand up to shade the light and get a better view, a shadow inside shifts, and I freeze as a person crosses in front of the window.
But it’s the back side of a person who doesn’t even see me. I can’t tell if it’s Adam or Mr. Garner. The person keeps moving and now that I’ve got my hand up and can see better, I spy a body on the bed. But not just anybody, it’s Adam, stripped to his underwear, unmoving.
For a few seconds, I myself don’t move as I take in the scene. Long black leather straps wrap around his wrists and ankles, securing him to the bedposts. A purple ball gag has been lodged into his mouth and strapped around his head. A red satin scarf lays loose around his neck and I’m not sure if that means it’s already been used or it’s about to be used.
Adam’s eyes sit open in an unnaturally wide way, and I narrow in on his stomach and the rapid shallow breaths. He’s scared. He’s not on that bed of his own free will.
&nbs
p; His head rolls toward me almost like an unseen hand pushes it, as if he senses me at the window. Our gazes connect through the gap in the bent blind. There are many things in his eyes but the one that surfaces above all the rest is fear.
I see it now—through all the twists and turns—it’s clear as day what Adam has been up to. He played on The Stranglers’ obsession to lure them in, and now Adam is so far in he can’t get out.
Mr. Garner steps back into view dressed in a black leather and mesh domination outfit, complete with a thong up his ass. His hair lays slicked back like he just wet it. His lean runner’s body draws my attention with tan lines on his arm and legs, a pale chest, and no chest hair. He probably shaves it.
Adam’s gaze jerks away from mine, and he flinches when he sees Mr. Strangler. He shows his teeth, and there’s an edge of savage glee on his face. It makes the hair on my neck stand up. This will be the first kill he does without his wife. I know that look. I've had that look. Mr. Strangler likes control. He needs it, and I’m about to take it from him.
Time to bring this to an end. I slide away from the window and around to the back door. It’s locked but a quick search for a hide-a-key and I find one in a magnetized box attached to the air conditioner unit. Using the key, I open the back door, and I step right inside.
I move silently through the house and into the bedroom. Mr. Strangler is over by a trunk now, smaller in size to the one we found in his condominium. The lid sits open, displaying the contents inside. I watch as he unzips a leather bag and pulls out several neatly rolled silk scarves. He goes about carefully laying them out—a green one, a blue one, a purple one, and a pink one—each monogrammed with the names of the strangled girls:
Caley, Zabrina, Evelyn, and Yasmin.
Those are his trophies, and the red one currently around Adam’s neck is intended to join the others. Now that Mrs. Strangler is gone, Mister can move on from young girls to young boys. Oh, yes, I bet he’s extremely excited about that one.
Adam squirms and makes a muffled sound, and Mr. Strangler glances over. “I know. I know,” he coos, oozing charm. “Don’t be scared.”
My gaze flicks off the scarfs and over to Adam to find his eyes locked on mine. They scream at me now with frantic madness. What are you doing? And he’s right, what am I doing? I’m waiting for Mr. Strangler to see me. Coming up behind him is too easy. I want to see his eyes. I want, no, I need to play.
Adam’s whole body begins violently quivering, and tears leak from the corners of his eyes. They trail down his face to plop onto the dark blue silk sheet.
Mr. Strangler lurches to his feet, finally sensing my presence, and when he turns, he freezes. For a moment, and without moving, he watches me with an unblinking stare that reminds me of a lizard.
“You know,” I speak in a conversational tone. “Adam over there killed your wifey.” I shrug. “Wasn’t sure if you knew that or not. He put her in his trunk, and I cannot confirm or deny, but I’m pretty sure when he cremated her, she was still alive. Then I was the one who scooped up her ash and bones and delivered it to you in a box.”
Mr. Strangler’s brows come down in this confused way, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m standing here in the kill room starting a conversation with him, or if it’s because he’s digesting what I just said about his wife.
“I don't believe you,” he whispers, and I find it odd that is how he chooses to respond to all of this.
I keep going with the conversation. “Oh, believe it. Kudos to you though for going to the cops. I was curious to see how you’d handle it. Smart move, then the cops think you’re innocent. Though I know where you dumped your sex trunk. I followed you. Yes, we know all about you and Scott and Ted. We know about your little sex videos. What you probably don’t know is that Ted is dead.” I nod to Adam. “He killed Ted, too. So you’ve been framing a dead person.”
Still, with the confused look, he glances between me and Adam. “Who are you two?”
“We’re your judge and jury, and you are beyond guilty. Oh and P.S. I’m a firm believer in the death penalty.”
Mr. Strangler takes a hesitant step back. “No, we didn’t mean it. We didn’t mean to kill anyone.”
And there it is, the confession trapped people always seem to give. Do they think saying that they didn’t mean it actually matters?
“It just happened,” he nearly whines.
“And then it happened again, and again, and again. You’re a killer and so was your wife. You’re both monsters. Animals. You’re the stuff of nightmares.” I shift closer. “I’m going to kill you now,” I tell him. I didn’t come here with the intention of killing anyone. I came here just to see what was going on. But I like to think I’m flexible. I keep my options open. “What do you think about that?”
This animal is trapped, and trapped animals will chew off their own paw to get free. It’s a survival instinct. Let’s see what Mr. Strangler will do.
I watch him, standing there in his black leather and mesh dominating outfit. Not so dominating right now, though. He glances again to Adam, back to me, to Adam, and I almost laugh. He’s trying to figure out how to get out of this.
I decide to make the decision for him. I lunge for him, and his face makes a satisfying crack when my knuckles connect. An unexpected jolt of pain vibrates through my shoulder, and I think I must have twisted it weird when I punched. I use that pain, though, to sharpen my focus as my entire world zeroes in on this man, this animal.
He’s sluggish from my one punch, and though I see his coming, I let him make contact with me. I welcome it. He goes for my stomach, but he must really be dazed because it makes little impact. That or my adrenaline blocks it.
Mr. Strangler swings again, and I tilt back, barely registering the graze across my chin. But that graze seems to break through and my adrenaline kicks in full force. I grab him by the black leather straps crisscrossing his chest and I ram him into the wall. The mountainous scenic picture hanging there falls off its nail and onto the floor.
He yells something, but I don’t hear it as I rear back and sink my fist into his stomach, delivering the type of punch he tried to.
Mr. Strangler curses and manages to get a good shove in, hard enough that I stumble back onto the bed and Adam. Whatever daze Mr. Strangler was in seems to have lifted, and he makes a dash for the door. I’m off the bed in no time, and I grab him and toss him across the room into the dresser.
With a groan, he rolls away and onto the floor, scampering into the corner. But I stalk him, and I drag him right back up. I want this killer stopped, but I’m not ready for him to be down yet. I want him to fight. I don’t want things to end so soon.
He swings out, clocking me in the side of the head, surprising himself more than me, and the whole thing serves to only irritate me. But then his knee comes up, making contact with my ribs, and my whole body jerks with the pain.
I shove him hard, letting him know I’m the one in control, and his skull cracks against the wall. It’s a hard crack and his head lists to the side as his body slides down to the floor. In this moment I know, I know, one more hit and he’ll be out altogether.
But that’s not what I want. I wrap my gloved fingers around his neck, and I squeeze, my muscles straining, my jaw clenching down. The Strangler’s eyes pop wide, and I press harder, letting him feel every bit of pain he gave to his victims, letting him know his life is about to end.
Even if I wanted to, I can’t stop now. The need to see his life end comes big and strong. For a second I fight it, more to see if I can than I really want to, but something growls inside of me like I’m a damn wolf during a full moon. I have to finish, I have to do this. This is happening.
Mr. Strangler gasps, he strains, his face contorts in agony, but none of it matters because I can’t stop. I don’t want to. My muscles strain, my fingers dig in stronger than I ever thought I could, like someone else is helping me.
A rising anger stampedes through me, thumping heavy at my organs, and a
darkness crawls across my shoulders. It’s not a gradual thing, like you see in the movies, his life slowly draining. No, it happens quickly—he’s here with his bugged eyes and then he’s not as his body goes slack.
Something pounds in my head, so loud I can’t hear my own thoughts. I don’t let go, I keep squeezing watching the blood vessels pop on his face and down his neck. I keep squeezing until I feel his neck pop. Until I break skin and blood seeps over my gloved fingers.
A viciousness rises up in me, traveling my spine and threading through me. I recognize it as the savage glee I saw earlier on this man’s face. I fight against it. I won’t be like him.
Behind me Adam thrashes on the bed, groaning.
The sound of him breaks the spell, and I release the grip I have on Mr. Strangler’s neck.
I wipe my gloved fingers on my jeans and hurry over to the bed, but my skin still buzzes with the energy of the kill as I remove the ball gag from his mouth. Then I begin working on his wrists and ankles.
“Lane,” Adam croaks, and his voice whips across me, bringing me completely back to the here and now and ridding my body of the odd energy that was buzzing through it seconds ago.
I look at him then, and his light brown eyes fill with fresh tears. I lay a calm hand on his shoulder, the same hand I just killed Mr. Strangler with. “It’s okay,” I assure him. “He’s dead. You’re safe.”
60
DEATH. IT EVOKES a strong response. We all react in different ways to it. Some shed tears like when Dr. Issa died and Zach stood there and cried. Some turn to rituals like when Mom died and everyone brought us casseroles. Some rely on focus like with me and burying myself in my world.
Some also go through shock, as evidenced by Adam still on the bed. Though I’ve untied him, he sits curled up against the headboard in his underwear, his arms wrapped tightly around his bent knees. He won’t stop shaking. Or babbling. “I-I…it happened so quickly. I thought I would get here, and go through the motions, and then make my move. B-but he had me completely helpless before I even knew it.”