by Angie Martin
Jillian’s eyes widened and her face came to life. “I really don’t want to die. I’m only twenty-one and I have so much to live for. My parents would be devastated if I died. I have a lot of friends and I just started back at school to get my business degree. I know my job at the coffee shop doesn’t seem that important, but it is to those who need coffee in the morning. I might even open a coffee shop of my own someday.”
David stopped listening to her spouting out worthless reasons to live and studied the animation in her eyes and face. She believed her pitiful reasons for living would work with him, that she was so indispensable to the rest of the world and deserved to live. What she didn’t realize was that what she would accomplish with her death would overshadow everything she had done in life.
As she droned on about all the little things that meant nothing, the psychology behind living with such an egotistical delusion fascinated David. His work was far more important than anything she had to say, and therefore nothing would change her fate. He admitted his narcissism was greater than hers, but at least he wasn’t delusional about it.
He held up his hand to silence her. Had he not done that, she might have gone on for hours. “Thank you, Jillian, for that introspective glimpse into the value of your life.” He tilted his head back and forth, as if weighing what she said.
“Please don’t kill me,” she said, her begging a last attempt to make him change his mind. “I’ll do anything you want.” She raised her eyebrows. “Anything.”
“I’m sorry to be blunt about it, but I’m not a rapist, Jillian. You can get rid of those notions right now. I only have one woman on my mind these days and I’m not about to cheat on her with the likes of you.”
Her only potential bargaining tool off the table, fear returned to her face.
“I’ll tell you what. If you do an exceptional job tonight, and I mean you do everything I tell you to do and we accomplish our goals in a reasonable amount of time, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll kill you quickly and not make you suffer quite as much.”
Jillian’s eyes widened and she gasped. “But please, you said you wouldn’t kill me if—”
David slapped her across the face. “Quit your sniveling. I don’t care if you’re so important that you’re going to cure cancer.”
He stood up and grabbed the top of her head. He pulled her to her feet by the strands of hair in his hand and she screamed again. “If you don’t shut your mouth so we can get to work, I won’t hold up my end of the bargain to end your life fast, no matter how much we accomplish tonight. Understand?”
Jillian nodded through her uncontrollable tears. Clear, thick discharge dribbled out of her nose and onto her lips.
“Wipe your nose, you disgusting little wench.”
With her arms still tied behind her back, she used her shoulder to wipe her nose. Phlegm smeared across her cheek and mixed with blood from the knife cut.
“You just can’t help being filthy, can you?” David asked. He shoved her against the wall. Lifting his knife to the bottom of her shirt, he sliced through the material from bottom to top, through the middle of the steaming cup of coffee on her work shirt. He pulled both sides of the shirt off her shoulders and pushed them down her arms and over her bound hands.
His eyes considered her soft skin and her rounded breasts held up by a black lace bra. Her work t-shirt rendered her frumpy and shapeless, but as soon as he pulled the shirt back, his excitement grew at the thought of slicing through such a young, beautiful body.
The tops of her breasts heaved with every frightened breath she sucked into her lungs, reminding David of what it had been like to snuff the life out of Julie from Montana while they had sex. The ecstasy that overcame his body and mind when her eyes rolled back and her body fell limp was unparalleled. Though he now took pleasure in killing through his perfected ritual, something about his experience with Julie always stayed with him.
Before he found Emily, one of the only sparks of emotion in his life had been Julie’s last moments alive. He not only needed to experience that again, he wanted it. Jillian could be the start of something new for him. He could still do what needed to be done, but being with her while her warm blood smeared across his body would be a fitting tribute to his time with Julie.
David squashed the temptation. Waiting for Emily had been quite difficult for him, so difficult that he momentarily considered this snotty, dirty, filthy thing in front of him as an acceptable substitute. Jillian was not worthy of him, nor did she even come close to Emily. Reaching Emily was the only thing for which Jillian was good.
Slowly and deliberately, he wrapped his fingers around her neck. He applied pressure for show, to remind her who was in charge.
Jillian trembled in his grasp and tears poured out of her eyes. She groaned and squealed against the weight of his hand crushing her windpipe.
David loosened his grip on her neck. “I want you to scream Emily’s name. Scream it as loud as you can, and don’t stop until she hears you. If you’re a good girl and she hears you quickly, I’ll make the pain stop, as promised. But if you’re not a good girl...” A corner of his mouth twisted into a sadistic grin. He had waited far too long to kill Jillian. Even if she reached Emily in the next five minutes, he didn’t plan on stopping the pain anytime soon.
Chapter Twenty-one
Emily tossed her purse and jacket on the arm of her couch and sunk down into a plush cushion. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and bit down on her bottom lip. She could still taste Jake’s tantalizing goodnight kiss, and it would keep her awake all night.
After she ended her relationship with Nathan, Emily swore she wouldn’t get involved again with another man for quite some time. She had given so much to him that she lost part of her identity while they were together, and she wanted some time to focus on her. Life, however, seemed to have another plan for her and threw Jake right in her path.
Emily closed her eyes and tried to slow her racing heart. It hadn’t stopped since he took her hand at the restaurant. The look in his eyes when his hand enveloped hers was different than the look Nathan gave her all those nights. She didn’t realize at the time what it was about Jake, but now she knew. The same feelings she had for him were reflected in his eyes.
It was more than a mutual spark. Emily was drawn to him in a way she had never experienced with Nathan, or with any other man. She didn’t know if it was their gifts that gave weight to their already intense emotions, or if it was good old fashioned attraction. No matter what the cause, she had to see him again.
Their lunch date tomorrow would satisfy that need. Until then, she would dream of that kiss. His hands pressed into the small of her back, one of her hands seated at the bottom of his neck with the other on his upper arm. His lips against hers in a soft kiss, but one brimming with desire. When they parted, the brightness of the full moon illuminated his green eyes. She wished she could stop time and exist forever in that single moment with him.
Emily opened her eyes and decided to get ready for bed. She had more than enough on her plate with a serial killer case, hearing voices, and automatic writings to know how to deal with a new man in her life, especially a man who worked for Nathan. Yet another complication.
She paused when she passed her home office. She changed her mind about bed and retrieved her laptop so she could do some more online research on the serial killer while enjoying a late night glass of wine. With her laptop tucked under her arm, she backtracked to the kitchen for the wine.
In the hallway, a familiar sensation tingled in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was or where she experienced it before. She forgot all about the glass of wine and wandered back into the living room. She placed her laptop on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, readying her mind for whatever was to come.
Emily reached into her purse and pulled out a pen and a receipt from the grocery store. She turned the receipt over on the flat wooden top of her coffee table and clicked the pen into the read
y position. Touching the tip of the pen to the paper, she closed her eyes.
She emptied out every image and every thought from her mind. Aunt Susan had been a proponent of clearing one’s mind in order to fully magnify the gift, and she spent many hours with Emily teaching her how to do just that. With all the hustle and bustle of life gone from her mind, she could concentrate on what she heard and felt.
At first, there was nothing. Then a darkness containing a presence crawled over her, claiming the shadows of her mind. Though Emily’s hand shook with fear, she did her best to stay focused on the presence.
Her breathing deepened and with everything she had, she tried to see into the darkness. Something evil resided there, but to understand the voices she had to keep pressing. Emily closed off every one of her five senses the best she could and poured all of her energy into the darkness.
Emily!
Emily’s eyes flew open against her will. The voice sounded as if it was right next to her, but it had been only in her mind. Her rapid, staccato breathing consumed her and, fearing hyperventilation, she slowed her breaths.
As she regained control over her breathing, she looked at the paper sitting under the pen. She was somewhat disappointed that no words appeared on the paper, only random scratches and dots of ink from her shaking hand.
Emily clicked off the pen and laid it down on the receipt. Her hands retreated to her lap and she glanced around the room to ensure she was alone. Although no writing appeared on the paper, the presence was still in the room with her, as if it had escaped the confines of her mind and now surrounded her. She suddenly wished she had not opened up her mind and allowed entry to the invisible entity.
She made her way to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. If she went about her normal routine, focusing on menial tasks instead of the presence, it might disappear. She retrieved a bottle of merlot from her wine rack and filled up her favorite wine glass almost to the top. Lifting the glass to her lips, she drank half of the wine. She refilled her glass and replaced the glass stopper on the wine bottle.
As she put the bottle back in its rightful place, she remembered when the presence previously attacked her mind. She had been standing on the front steps of the offices of Wolk, Trotter & Wolk last night, just moments before Jake came outside to apologize to her. The person she sensed that night was not Jake, but someone else nearby who invaded her mind the same as they had tonight.
Emily! Help me!
Emily’s stomach churned in tandem with the screams that filled her mind. She quickly set her wine glass down on the counter and raced toward the guest bathroom in the hall. She lifted the toilet seat lid and retched and coughed until she emptied the entire contents of her stomach.
She slumped down on the bathroom floor. Sweat dripped from her face, as if she had a terrible fever. Wiping the back of her hand against her clammy forehead, she prayed she didn’t have food poisoning from the grilled fish and mango salsa she ate at dinner.
Emily swiped a few pieces of toilet paper off the roll and wiped her mouth. She threw the soiled paper into the toilet, got to her knees, and tugged on the flush handle. So as not to upset her stomach further, she took tender steps down the hall, through her bedroom, and into the master bath.
After she brushed her teeth and washed her sweaty face, she retrieved the thermometer from her medicine cabinet and stuck it under her tongue. She dabbed her moist brow with a hand towel, but the sweat reappeared on her forehead. Her limbs weakened and she sat down on the edge of her bathtub. Cramps overtook her stomach and she bent over, clutching her abdomen.
The thermometer beeped and she removed it from her mouth. 98.9. Emily turned it over and back again. The reading in the LCD window was the same. She shook her head. It just wasn’t possible. Sweat dripped from her forehead and weakness claimed her body. Though every bit of food she ate at dinner had been thrown up, her stomach remained nauseous. She had to be running a fever.
Emily threw the broken thermometer in the trash can. She walked back down the hallway to the kitchen to clean up the wine she assumed she spilled when she ran for the bathroom. After she cleaned up the wine, she would go straight to bed, without doing her planned homework. Her sudden illness needed to disappear before her lunch date with Jake, and a good night’s sleep might cure her.
The darkness forced its way through her mind again. Emily turned the corner into the kitchen, but stopped before entering. Blood spilled out from her wine glass onto the kitchen counter and down to the floor, where it accumulated in a large pool. Thick red sprays, spurts, and spatter covered the walls and ceiling. Emily sucked in her breath, and a scream caught in her throat.
Before she could register the sight in her mind, a bright light flashed in front of her eyes and the kitchen returned to normal. Tipped over on the counter, the glass had released its contents of red wine out on the counter and a small amount had trickled down onto the tiled floor. Nothing she couldn’t clean up with a little bleach and a scrub brush.
Emily braced herself against the doorway, her mind once again clear. The sweating stopped, and her stomach no longer twisted. More noticeably, the darkness had retreated into the recesses of her mind, although it was not entirely gone.
After the thermometer read a normal temperature and seeing the scene in the kitchen, she ruled out bad seafood. Having heard her name again, tonight’s events had everything to do with the serial killer case that she and Cassie never should have taken.
Deciding it best to leave the mess in the kitchen for the morning, Emily flipped off the kitchen light. More than ever before, she wanted Aunt Susan back to help her filter through the madness. She had opened up her mind just as Aunt Susan taught her, but instead of finding answers, something dangerous crawled into her mind. It grabbed hold of her and still had not let go. Even though she wasn’t sure how to get rid of it, she had to try. She could not suffer through another episode like this.
Chapter Twenty-two
Lionel balanced two coffees, a lemon Danish, and a file full of his notes on the case. He dodged other officers threatening to steal his Danish in the bustling halls of the police station. When he reached Conference Room B, he pushed open the door with his back, almost spilling Shawn’s coffee.
Shawn rushed to Lionel’s aid. “You should have called me for backup.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lionel said. He nodded good morning to Detectives Reina Aurelio and Lawrence Timmons. “If Shawn had told me you were coming, I would have brought more coffee.”
Timmons pointed to his mug on the table. “That’s why I always bring my own. Can’t trust Brandt to do anything right.”
“You’re really going to start the meeting out like that?” Shawn asked with an amused tone.
Lionel situated his notes on the table, making sure both his Danish and coffee were within reach. “I think the mood is very telling of your dealings with Dean Sheila Reynolds last night.”
“It couldn’t have gone better,” Aurelio said. “We have a new lead.”
“So I hear,” Lionel said. “Tell me about it.”
“We started out by meeting with the dean,” Shawn said. “When I brought up the idea that Lucy Kim may have been taken near the campus library, we got what we expected. The college security is top-notch, there are ample security guards around the campus at night to ensure that would never happen, blah, blah, we’re so great, blah, blah.”
“I gave her a breakdown of the timeline you composed of Kim’s last day,” Timmons said. “I let her know the campus library was the best place for her to have been taken, but we understood if she believed otherwise. I told her the only way to know what really happened would be taking a look at their ongoing security measures at the library that time of night, along with any security camera tapes of the area for the night in question.”
“And she probably told you she wasn’t obligated to share any security tapes with you, to which you responded by threatening a subpoena,” Lionel said.
“You got the f
irst part right, sir,” Aurelio said, “but we didn’t threaten a subpoena right away.”
Lionel shook his head at Aurelio calling him “sir” despite numerous requests in the past not to do so. In her sixth month with the homicide division, she was still hungry enough to remain formal with her superiors, especially with Lionel, since he had recruited her for homicide.
Lionel gestured to the television at the front of the conference room table. “Obviously you changed her mind somehow, or we wouldn’t have a television parked in here with us.”
“I stepped up and did what needed to be done,” Shawn said.
Timmons’s laugh rolled across the table. “Brandt flirted with her like they were college students ready to get it on.” He stressed the last words in a singsong voice.
Lionel’s jaw dropped. That was the last thing he had expected to hear this morning. Since his separation from Amber, Shawn had never so much as hinted he would consider flirting with a woman.
Timmons slapped his hand on Shawn’s shoulder. “She was like seventy or something, but that didn’t stop this young buck from using his best moves. And his best really ain’t much.”
“What in the world happened there last night?” Lionel asked.
Shawn shrugged. “Someone had to take it for the team.”
“Too bad it didn’t work,” Timmons said, and let out another roar.
“It helped,” Shawn said under his breath.
Aurelio didn’t appear happy with the lightheartedness of the conversation. “Sir, after she declined Sergeant Brandt’s unorthodox advances, I explained to her that if she didn’t want to help us, then that was her right. We would get a subpoena, but on the way to talk to the judge, we might release a statement to the press that the victim may have been taken from the campus and we were seeking witnesses.”
Lionel’s eyebrows shot up. “Smart thinking.”
“Thank you, sir,” Aurelio said. “I let her know that even if our hunch turned out to be inaccurate, that kind of publicity wouldn’t look good for her or the university, especially after the rape they had on campus last year. I also reminded her that everything about the case made the national news. She agreed to turn over the tapes.”