The next day Arthur was away at a conference giving a lecture and I didn’t run into Steve while I was sorting through the mail so I counted the day as a good one. Eddie had texted me a few times confirming that we were still on for the archive room, probably paranoid that I would cancel again. I felt a slight cringe of guilt that I’d left Kassey out of the fun this time but her recovery was more important than skulking around in an underground passageway.
We met outside of the library once I was done work. “You bring your badge?”
He smiled and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I let it slide because, well, I don’t know why. I just did.
“I always carry my badge. Why? You think we’re going to have some trouble in there?”
I shrugged. “There’s this creepy kid that caught me down there peeking into the passageway.”
“A creepy kid?” He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.
“What? He was pushy and leering. A little too focused on my tits, if you know what I mean.”
“Should I be worried?” Eddie chuckled lightly.
I gave him a swat. “Don’t make me punch you for real.”
He snorted a laugh. “Let’s go check this place out.”
The library was pretty busy. The students all out in droves now that the sun was almost ready to go down. The best time to go to the library if you wanted solitude was early morning, pre-noon. The place was a dead zone that time of day.
We headed straight for the archive room and slipped in without anyone saying a thing. My security pass worked perfectly, something I supposed I should be thanking Steve for.
Eddie wasn’t enamoured by the stacks of books. He didn’t take a moment to breathe it all in like I did, but he didn’t say anything to me about it either. Like he totally understood why I stood at the bottom of the stairs, inhaling, and had to run my fingers over a few of the spines when we started moving again. He accepted my weirdness. It thawed my heart a tiny little bit.
I showed him to the plastic panel where the passageway entrance was. Nothing had changed other than some yellow caution tape had been stuck to the seam of the plastic.
Eddie moved past me and fingered the tape. “This is their idea of a repair job?”
“Better for us that it’s not fixed yet,” I said as I reached over his arm and snagged a corner of the tape before ripping it away from one side.
Eddie laughed. “Not much for preserving the scene, huh?”
I balled up the tape and put it on the shelf. “There’re no cameras in here and who cares if we rip away the tape?” I shrugged when he looked at me. “What are they really going to do? You’re a cop, for fuck’s sake.”
“True.” With a shrug of his own, he pulled his side of the tape away and then slipped his fingers into the seam where the plastic met the wall. He gave it a good tug and just like it had for me, it came away, screws and all.
“Not secure.”
“Nope.” I helped him move it to the side and then joined him as he pushed the gate open.
You would expect an ancient gate like that to squeal or even squeak a bit. This one opened in one fluid motion, like it wasn’t hundreds of years old. Like it had been oiled and cared for.
“Weird.” Eddie pulled a flashlight from his pocket.
“You come prepared.” I snickered as he turned it on.
“Always.” He winked over his shoulder before aiming the light at the hinges. “Looks like it’s had some maintenance.” He swiped his finger over a hinge before bringing it to his nose. “Smells like lubricant.”
I took a whiff and inhaled the familiar scent. “Fresh.” My thoughts immediately went to that weird kid I’d punched in the gut. Had he followed his curiosity and ventured down the passageway? “Someone has definitely been poking around. Maybe the caretaker?”
“Could be. I’ll follow up with him later.” With a nod, he brushed his fingers against his jeans and then moved farther in, pushing the gate open wider to accommodate his size. We both had to bend down a bit to get in but once inside, the passageway opened up so we could stand.
I shivered. Even with Eddie’s light, it was dark as fuck in there and the dampness started seeping into my skin almost immediately. I turned back to the opening, doing my best to pull the plastic back over the hole.
“The moisture will fuck up the books.”
Eddie didn’t say anything and I realized he’d already started walking away, his flashlight bobbing in front of him as he cautiously moved forward.
I steadied myself, my hand on the cold stone of the wall. The place had bad vibes—they slipped against my nerves and made my stomach skip. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“Creepy down here, huh?” Eddie’s voice was a comfort. I moved closer to him, so close that I tripped on his heel and crashed into his back. He spun around to grab me before I hit the ground. “You okay?”
I inhaled his scent. My body revved up. But even I wasn’t fucked up enough to want to screw down there. “Yep, just getting the chills a bit.” I cleared my throat and then got my feet back under me. He let me go as I stood.
“Let’s just walk for a bit, okay? I want to see if this leads anywhere nearby.” Eddie patted my arm then started off again.
I will admit, if he offered to hold my hand, I probably would have gone for it. Instead I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to keep up.
Whatever lights had been working down there were long since dead. There were sockets for bulbs up on the ceiling but all seemed to have wires poking out or were just empty. The place was in a serious state of neglect with some parts of the walls crumbling away. It was a shame, really. There was history down there. The original tunnels had been built over a hundred years ago, when the university first opened.
“I had a chat with Kiefer yesterday,” Eddie said with a quick glance back at me. “He said that a hot blonde reporter grilled him on his connection to Candace Bryne and questioned his alibi.”
“Oh yeah? He said I was hot?”
“So it was you.” Eddie paused and turned toward me, the flashlight between us casting shadows on the walls. “Jade—”
“Hey, there’s nothing illegal about asking questions.”
“You said you chatted with him, like a casual thing.” He shook his head. “Not that you impersonated a reporter.”
“So? It’s not like I told him I was a cop or anything.” I shrugged. “I was curious about him. He seems a bit on the slimy side.”
“His alibi is solid.”
“Yeah, Devin Bells. I talked to her too. She seems to have something going on with Steve.” And fuck it felt good to confess that to Eddie.
“Devin Bells is what?”
“Okay, well, that’s just a suspicion based on her acting all gaga over Professor Caul.” I exaggerated Steve’s name and rolled my eyes. “She did say that they have been having private tutoring sessions or something. It made me wonder if Candace had been seeing Steve privately too.”
“So what? Now you think your ex-boyfriend is a suspect?”
Well, no, I hadn’t. He was an abusive asshole and now fraternizing with students, but I couldn’t see him actually murdering someone. I shrugged again. “I’m not trying to get him into trouble. I just think it might be worth checking out.”
Eddie gave a tight nod. “Okay, I will.” Then he turned and resumed walking. “He was cleared in our initial investigation. Steve, I mean.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “I’m just passing along information.” And stirring shit up a bit. Was something going on between Devin and Steve? Eddie would find out, no doubt…or make things uncomfortable enough for Steve to lay off the tutoring.
Eddie swung to the left, down a short passageway that opened into a room of sorts.
“Huh,” he said as he swept the area with his light. “Looks like some kind of storage area.”
There was an old wooden bench along one wall, covered haphazardly with a plastic sheet and a table adjacent to it, which looked to be bolted
into the stone. Eddie walked over and pushed a box to the side, peering in as he did.
“I’d expect more dust.” He poked his hand in the box, the sound of metal scraping against metal making my teeth ache. “Looks like brackets of some sort.”
I moved to the other side of the room, Eddie’s flashlight illuminating enough for me to make out a couple of chairs and another few boxes with some empty jars inside.
“Can we get out of here? This place is creepy as hell.” I tightened my grip on myself, feeling a chill run up and down my spine. I couldn’t explain why the place was freaking me out. I wasn’t usually such a damn wuss.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s doesn’t have a good vibe, does it?” Eddie turned, his light dancing across the entrance. “Hey, is that a rake?”
I moved toward the light. Leaning against the wall, just inside the door, was a fan rake along with a box of garbage bags. Both looked newish. There was also a small ladder laying on its side.
“Yeah, the caretaker said he uses this space for storing some tools.”
“You talked to Mr. Wright too?”
I cringed. “Yeah, was just hanging out and ran into him.” Hanging out, spying on Kiefer. “We had a chat. Nothing nefarious, I assure you. He said that kids break in down here all the time.”
“Another reason the case is going cold. No firm leads. Not even usable prints or a crime scene for that matter.” With a sigh, Eddie moved out of the room, turning to head farther down the tunnel. I had to move fast to catch up.
“I thought I smelled fresh air!” he said. A few paces down along the wall was another gate, this one locked and at the bottom of a short set of stairs that led up to the campus.
The leaves of a giant oak were visible and I knew exactly where we were on campus. Just outside of student commons. I had felt a little disoriented and turned around underground but at least I had my bearings now. This is exactly where Wright had chased Kiefer and his friends from. I kept that to myself though, not wanting Eddie to know just how much snooping I’d been doing.
Because of the time of day, with the sun setting, the light didn’t penetrate into the tunnel but I could see how it would create a patch of light at certain times. Eddie reached out and gave the gate a tug. It rattled but didn’t open. He flashed his light on it for a closer inspection.
“Padlock.”
“Wright said he was going to replace the lock,” I said as I inspected the lock. It was heavy, stainless steel and needed a key. “Looks like he followed through.”
“Nothing new down here really,” Eddie sighed again. “I bet we could spend days searching these tunnels and still find nothing. This entire case is damn frustrating.”
“I agree.” I dropped my hand from the gate, suddenly feeling as dejected as Eddie sounded. “Why don’t we get the hell out of here and have a drink or something?”
“Good idea.”
He pulled me in for a kiss and I kinda melted a bit. I hated to admit it but that kiss chased the creepies away. I was smiling as we headed back toward the archive room. Happy to be heading out of there.
Just as we reached the gate, a shadow passed over the plastic covering.
“Shit!” I hissed as I stepped back. “Someone’s in there! It’s probably that creepy kid, official archive police.”
Eddie moved past me, his hand going into his pocket. “Leave it to me.”
He moved the plastic and offered his hand to help me out. The bright light blinded me for a moment.
“Detective Bronson, whatever are you doing here?”
I knew that voice.
“And Jade?” Steve snorted. “Less than forty-eight hours and you’re already fucking another guy down here, huh?”
“Shut up, Steve!” I growled, sending a warning I knew he understood.
“What are you talking about?” Eddie sounded suspicious. He sounded hurt. He wasn’t a stupid man; he knew exactly what Steve was saying.
“Oh come on, Eddie, don’t play dumb and gullible with me.” Steve winked. “She’s a great lay. Fucking horny as all hell.”
“You’re such a dick,” I hissed.
“Just the other day we were down here doing some research and she totally came on to me.”
“That’s not what happened and you know it!”
Steve turned to me. “So you’re saying we didn’t fuck right there in that room? On that table?”
My next words died on my tongue, a lump the size of a tennis ball clogging my throat.
Eddie turned to me, searching for the truth, his eyes broadcasting pain. “Is that true?”
My gut clenched. But I didn’t say anything.
Eddie frowned, took another step away. “I think I’ll take a rain check on that drink, Jade.” And then he was gone.
I didn’t try to stop him. I saw that look on his face. Even though I’d never agreed to exclusivity, I’d betrayed him as far as he was concerned. I didn’t like the way that made me feel. Almost as if I gave a shit.
Steve took a step toward me, a wicked smirk of satisfaction on his face. “Check.”
“This isn’t a game.”
“It’s always a game, sweetie.”
26
This was unexpected. Truly. An opportunity that couldn’t be missed. And she was begging for it, really, what with her lurid clothing choice and her suggestive looks. How could he not? Sometimes when the time was right, it was just right.
She was unconscious of course. He’d needed her submissive for what he had planned. Later would come the fight. He knew she’d be a wild cat, knew it by the way she’d resisted him at first, as if she hadn’t wanted it. As if she hadn’t been the one to come to him with those doe eyes, crying about her artistic expression, seeking advice, she’d said. He’d taken one look at her exposed cleavage and knew. Just knew. Carpe diem.
She’d tried to scratch him, tried to claw his goddamned eyes out, the feral thing. That simply wouldn’t do. No evidence would be found on her body, none. And he had plans to ensure that.
His subterranean space had been invaded just that day. His tunnels roamed to some degree. It wasn’t a deep penetration, but he still felt the presence like an intrusion. The atmosphere had been tainted. He had to reset the mood. Let those old stone walls absorb some fresh screams. He’d felt a mild sense of panic at first, once he realized that he’d had guests, but it passed quickly. He was always very careful with his clean up and there would never be anything left behind to find. Nothing but the ghosts of girls, and nobody ever paid much attention to them.
His impulses were becoming stronger, harder to deny. He’d tried, damn, he’d tried to fly right but the urge was building, that need for catharsis. To purge his demons so he could function normally. And then she’d come to him, practically begging for punishment, and it was just too perfect.
He leaned over her, lifted her eyelids, pupils still dilated, unresponsive. If it wasn’t for the slow rise and fall of her beautiful chest he would have thought she was dead. She had dead girl eyes. It was as if her body knew what was to come.
He ran his fingers along her collarbone, loving the feel of her soft skin. Unblemished but for a few poorly chosen tattoos. Sliding over the swell of one breast, he reached her pink nipple and gave a little flick. Her body responded immediately, like Pavlov’s dog. So predictable. The little bud swelled and hardened and he couldn’t help but lower his lips down for a taste, his own body finally stirring as he clasped his mouth to hers and moaned with desire.
He had her bent over the wooden table which he’d covered with a sheet to help with the clean up later. This one was going to be messy but not until he’d had his fill. He pulled her head back, yanking her hair so that she gave a groan, a whimper. Her eyes were covered, her mouth gagged. She pulled at her arms, which were secured behind her back with a plastic tie, the ones the police used. Handy things. Quite impenetrable, as she was finding. The more she pulled, the more her wrists chafed. Soon she’d make herself bleed.
“‘D
o not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light,’” he whispered as he pulled the condom from his still hard penis and tossed it aside. It was a poem with the perfect words, even if he had to take some out of context. But that was the beauty of art—it could be warped and altered to suit any occasion.
He donned another condom quickly, the sight of her struggling against the bonds making him weep with lust. She tried to kick him but he still held her hair, so he gave it a twist, yanking hard on her scalp and then slammed her head into the table. She’d learn a lesson by the time she died. One that involved a lot of her blood.
“I’m going to teach you about artistic expression,” he said, breathing against her ear. He clasped his hand over the front of her throat, cutting off her air with a squeeze of his fingers. “‘Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.’”
The police would come soon. He probably should leave. But his work, his beautiful work, was at the peak of glory. She was blazing from the huge oak. He’d burned her, set her aflame while she was still somewhat conscious. Her pitiful little moans annoying him as he doused her with kerosene.
She couldn’t scream, not because he’d gagged her but because he’d cut out her tongue.
He’d often fantasized about it. In those moments that she’d chattered on about her day. The girls in her class, the stress of meeting deadlines. Her voice becoming nasally, droning, not at all appealing to his ears any more. On and on she’d go as he’d imagined what would happen if he removed the very thing she needed for coherent speech.
He thought back to those fantasies and smiled, holding up the tongue like a trophy, examining his handwork.
A gruesome thing it had been, removing a tongue. More so than he’d been expecting. It was a slippery and tough muscle to defeat in the best of circumstances. He’d started with a serrated knife, puncturing first, just for the fun of it, caught up in the excitement, sucking in her terror.
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