“I need you to interrupt the chief and give him this message. It is vitally important. Tell him we know Coach White had a stepbrother and we’re on our way to see him now.”
Lexie noticed that he didn’t name names, or accuse anyone of being a psychopathic killer. Though surprised at first, she realized he was being smart. As sure as she was that Young was her man, there was the whole innocent-until-proven-guilty issue. If there was any chance they were wrong, and some yahoo local cop went in there guns blazing and killed an innocent man, they’d live to regret it.
Though, not as much as they’d regret it if they were right and they didn’t get there in time to save Taylor and Vonnie.
Aidan lowered the phone to his chest, saying, “She’s getting him.”
When the chief came on the line a moment later, she could hear his gruff voice from the other seat. Aidan explained what they’d learned, and the chief’s response was loud enough for Lexie to hear from the other seat. “Son of a bitch! It all fits. Underwood told me Mark Young was the last new member of the club—that Jed White brought him into the group a couple of months before he died.”
“Just as we thought,” Aidan replied.
“You stay put!” the man ordered. “Don’t go any farther. I’m going out there myself.”
“You’re twenty minutes away,” Aidan replied, staying calm, “and we’re almost to White’s old house.”
Lexie looked up, saw the mailbox, and realized he was right.
“I mean it, now. Don’t you do anything. Pull over and stay right where you are.”
“As you wish, Chief,” Aidan said, pulling over right past the mailbox. He cut the engine. “We’ve stopped.”
“Where?”
“About ten feet from his driveway.”
“Damn it, don’t do anything! You’ll get yourself killed, and that other one with you.”
That other one. Hmm. So nice to know he cared.
“Gotta go, Chief. You’d better hurry.” Dunston sputtered, but Aidan cut him off. “I will promise you we won’t do anything other than look around until you get here. Unless we see something that convinces us the girls are here and are in imminent danger.” He and Lexie exchanged a look. “If that happens, all bets are off.”
Sunday, 7:20 p.m.
Vonnie had almost been there. She couldn’t believe it, but was so close to escaping her chains, that if she’d had another ten minutes, she felt sure she could have done it.
Her hands were unbound, one arm completely free, but that wasn’t good enough. She couldn’t get up and fight with Taylor. The only way she’d be of any use was if he came close enough for her to swing.
She’d like that. In fact, she had a fistful of loose chain, just in case, and had been flexing and unflexing her hand and arm, counting on her muscles to be there for her when she needed them. She’d like to whip that long, hard strand of metal links across his face, strip that mask off blow by blow.
A key turned in the lock and Vonnie sent up a silent prayer, both for herself, and for Taylor. They’d have one chance at this, only one. Because if they failed, he would kill them both, in the most brutal way he could devise. Of that she had no doubt.
“Hello, my pretties,” he said as he pushed the door open. He didn’t come in right away, pausing for a second to flip on the light switch that was just outside their door.
A weak, dirty bulb flicked on overhead, sending a pool of light straight down onto the floor. Enough to spotlight Taylor’s pale hand, her leg, a few strands of her hair.
“Have you missed me?” he asked, stepping all the way inside. He stepped over, then pushed the door closed and locked it behind him, never fully turning his back. Putting the keys in his pocket, he added, “How’s our new friend doing?”
“I keep thinking maybe she’s dead,” Vonnie said. She tried to sound weary, rather than enraged, knowing he expected her to be drugged.
“Do you, now?”
She forced herself to giggle, as if high. “She kept twitching and drooling all day and she threw up. Gross.”
He hesitated, watching her from across the room, not bending down to check Taylor, not coming over to her, either. He was like an animal, tentative, sniffing the air to see if it was safe to proceed. “And how are you feeling, sweet little girl?”
Vonnie sighed deeply, letting her eyes fall closed as she yawned. “Okay.” Behind her back, her hand tightened on the chain, gripping it as hard as she hoped Taylor was gripping that long, thin piece of wood—one of the chair legs.
If he noticed the chair was broken, they were done for. If he tried to use it, pulled it over to talk to her close-up, for some reason—which he’d only done once or twice, preferring to torment her and read to her from outside the room—he’d know right away.
Please, let us be lucky. For once, let me have some good luck.
She watched through mostly lowered lashes, seeing him move a step closer. But then he stopped, inches away from Taylor, who lay still, almost exactly where she’d been before.
The monster gave no hint of what he intended to do before he attacked.
He kicked brutally, his big foot hitting Taylor in the side, not far from where the knife still stuck out of her back.
Vonnie flinched, feeling the blow from across the room, certain Taylor would cry out in pain, curl up, react somehow.
She didn’t. She did absolutely nothing. Taylor just lay there and took it.
Vonnie had never seen anything more courageous. She didn’t think she could have done it. And she was so overwhelmed with love for that girl, she wanted to wrap her arms around her and take away her pain.
Knowing any tears would give them away, she forced herself not to cry, picturing the tears that had to be gathering in Taylor’s eyes, but were hidden by the thick tangle of hair lying across her face. She remained still, breathing evenly, as if she were drifting in and out of sleep, the way she had when she’d been sedated last week.
And finally, he let his guard down. “Well, I suppose you might be right. She’s still breathing, so she’s not dead yet. But I think her brains are a little bit scrambled up.” He chuckled evilly. “Maybe I should have used a plastic bat instead of a real one, huh?
“Guess we never will know which Kirby girl you are, will we? Wonder if your parents will bury your sister under a headstone that has your name on it. I saw them today, you know, coming home from the hospital, looking like someone had just ripped their hearts out.” He laughed again. “Guess that’d be me!”
Don’t do it, girl. Don’t listen. Don’t
.
He hadn’t gotten a reaction out of her with a brutal blow. God, how she hoped he wasn’t able to do it with some hateful words.
“So pretty, you really are so pretty,” the man said.
Vonnie heard a note in his voice. An ugly one. One she recognized from the night she’d met a bunch of other men just like him.
No. He couldn’t be thinking of this. Couldn’t intend to rape a comatose girl.
She opened her eyes all the way, peering across the room, biting her bottom lip as he squatted down in front of Taylor. He reached out a hand and brushed her hair back from her face, his fingers moving against her lips.
Vonnie’s own teeth clenched with the desire to bite at him. She didn’t know if she could have resisted.
“And you’re not all used up like Vonnie is, are you? You never got invited to one of our parties. Never had all those old men stick it to you.”
Vonnie wondered if that was why he hadn’t touched her sexually. Did he prefer his girls more innocent, less broken in? Like she had been before she’d been initiated into his sick club?
“Think I might have to try you out before you kick off,” he said. “Sweet little thing like you, it’d be a shame for you to die a virgin, which I bet you are, you being such a good girl.”
She had to do something.
“That’s gross,” Vonnie said, trying to retain that amused-yet-disgusted tone she’d managed before.
He ignored her, didn’t even look at her. He was totally focused on Taylor.
He ran his hand down her neck, over her shoulder, then her back. “Whoops, might want to get that out of the way,” he said, his fingers tracing around the knife, not pulling it out. “Or maybe not. You don’t have to roll over onto your back for this, do you, sweetheart? We can do it another way.”
The hand moved on, to her hip, her butt, until he slipped it between her legs.
Taylor flinched.
“Ahh ...”
And that was it. They were done. It was over.
Only Taylor hadn’t gotten the message. Because moving with a suddenness Vonnie couldn’t even imagine, the girl rolled up onto her side. At the same time, she thrust up the long wooden chair leg, which had been underneath her, aiming directly at their attacker’s throat.
“Yes!” Vonnie shouted.
If Taylor had hit her target, the blow could have killed him. Could have crushed his windpipe. But he jerked away at just the right moment. Still, the hard wood struck him in the face and he flew backward, sliding across the floor, crying out in pain. Grabbing at his mask, he ripped it off. Taylor launched herself to her feet, gasping in shock when she saw his face.
“Bitch!” he snapped.
He was close. So close Vonnie could almost feel him.
Give me two inches, come on
.
“I’ll kill you!” he said, trying to lurch to his feet even as Taylor edged toward the door, panicking, knowing she needed the key to get out but too terrified to come and get it.
Blood dripped on the floor. The monster rose to one knee. But he was wobbly, disoriented, and he leaned back.
Close enough.
Vonnie leapt. Using her free arm, she looped the chain around his neck and pulled with every ounce of her strength.
“The keys!” she screamed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hold the man for long.
Taylor ran over, slapping his hands away as he tried to grab her, shoving him down when he tried to rise to his feet. One strong kick to his groin caused him to grunt in pain and stop struggling long enough for Taylor to reach into his pocket and pull out the key ring.
“Now go,” Vonnie ordered, feeling her strength wane. She was strong, always had been, but she’d had no food and had been chained flat on her back for almost a week. They were almost out of time. She couldn’t keep this up.
“The key to the chains could be on here . . .”
“Get the hell out!”
Taylor went. Sobbing, slipping, she ran to the door, trying first one key, then another.
The monster had stopped struggling as much, and Vonnie hoped it was because he was choking to death, but she doubted it. Taylor had been playing possum. She had no doubt he’d do the same thing. She didn’t intend to let up until she had not one bit of strength left.
Taylor finally got the door open. She cast one anguished, wide-eyed stare at Vonnie. “I’ll be back for you. I swear I’ll be back.”
“Go!”
She didn’t hesitate. Taylor simply went.
Sunday, 7:30 p.m.
Aidan saw her first, a pale figure emerging from the front door of Young’s house. For a second, she was silhouetted by the light from within, and he saw the blood on her torn clothes, the hysteria in her face.
Her scream split the night in half.
“Oh my God, Taylor!” Lexie immediately started to run. They were a good distance away, having been lurking in some trees along the front of the property, trying to decide the best way to approach the house without being seen.
The girl heard, looked into the darkness toward them, then stumbled across the porch and down the steps of the old farmhouse. She limped, and was bent over, clutching her side, yet still managed a hitching run. “Vonnie, help Vonnie,” she called as she got closer.
Reaching her, Lexie caught Taylor in her arms, holding her carefully, spotting the knife sticking out of her at the same time Aidan did.
“Don’t touch it,” he snapped. “Taylor, where is Vonnie?”
“Basement,” she whispered. “Kitchen’s to the left, stairs hidden in the back of the pantry. Two doors . . . I dropped the keys. He’s with her!”
He nodded. Catching Lexie’s eye, he tried to communicate a lot with one look. That he cared about her, that he would be back. That he would save Vonnie.
He merely said, “Get her out to my car and call Dunston.”
She nodded, but before he could run into the house, she grabbed his arm. “Please be careful.”
“I will.”
Hold on, Vonnie
.
He ran to the house, up the steps, and inside. As soon as he hit the threshold, he got that strong smell of gingerbread again, just as rotten, just as filthy. It smelled like death. This whole house smelled like death and utter corruption of the spirit.
The kitchen was to his left, and as he ran through it, he saw a surveillance monitor. The picture on it chilled his blood.
Vonnie was lying on a cot and a man knelt on top of her, choking the life out of her.
Aidan didn’t even waste the time looking for a weapon; he leapt for the stairs and took them three or four at a time. He found the keys at the base of them, scooped them up midstride just in case, and ran through an open door and down a short hallway.
A second door, ahead of him, was closed. Gripping the keys, he ran to it, tested it, and realized it was locked. Doubting Taylor had stopped to lock Vonnie in with the madman, he figured it had to lock automatically from the outside.
“Damn it,” he snarled, shifting frantically through the keys. Luck was with him, and he found the right one almost immediately.
The man kneeling on the bed was so busy trying to murder Vonnie Jackson that he didn’t even hear Aidan push the door open and burst into the room. Running to build up speed, he launched himself at Mark Young, sending both of them flying right over Vonnie’s head into a hard cement wall.
Young, whose face was dripping blood, tried to fight. But it wasn’t so easy when he didn’t have a young girl’s throat between his hands.
Still, he was cornered and he knew it, so he gave it his all. Shoving the heavy metal cot out of the way, he tipped it over, trapping Vonnie beneath it, and tried to make a break for it.