Depraved (20 page)

The cop started to turn in her direction.

Jessica dropped lower and scuttled toward the cruiser on her hands and knees. She reached the cruiser’s fender and stayed crouched there with hands wrapped tight around the butt of the .38.

She heard the cop curse and start back toward the cruiser, muttering all the way. “Holy fucking Christ, what next? Ain’t like I ain’t got enough to deal with for one night.”

Jessica shifted position slightly as he neared the vehicle, her calf muscles tensing as she raised herself a little higher and prepared to pounce.

She heard the thump of his boots on asphalt.

And more muttering: “Don’t get paid enough for this fuckin’ bullshit.”

He was on the direct opposite side of the car now, breathing hard.

Jessica sprang up and brought her weapon to bear.

The cop gaped at her, surprise writ large in his wide eyes and the cartoonishly astonished set of his features. Then he dropped the flashlight and fumbled for the big handgun holstered at his side.

Jessica never flinched.

BANG!

Pause.

BANG!

Two big holes in a big body.

Sheriff Rich DeMars was dead before he hit the ground.

Abby got her dead sister’s body situated in a precarious position at the top of the stairs and gave it a hard shove in the ass with her bare foot. Michelle let out a startled yelp as the corpse came crashing down into the cellar, landing in an awkward heap at the foot of the stairs. Abby descended the stairs and stood with her hands on her hips on the last step as she stared at the body. One of Laura’s arms had folded up under her torso at a bad angle, snapping at the elbow. A shard of bone protruded through a rip in the skin. Her neck was broken, too. All of which would’ve added up to a hell of a lot of bad news for her sweet little sister if the bitch hadn’t already been dead. Dead, and with a bashed-up face even a Kincher would have a hard time loving.

She stepped over the body and seized it by the ankles, then huffed and grunted as she dragged it to the darker far end of the cellar. She found a dirty blanket on a shelf and used it to cover the body. The blanket didn’t quite cover Laura head to toe. Her bare feet and the top of her ruined head were visible. But Abby was satisfied. No one would think to look for Laura down here for hours, and maybe not even until morning.

The key was on the same shelf the blanket had occupied. So were Michelle’s clothes. Abby grabbed the key and the clothes and hurried over to where Michelle impatiently waited. She noted the wary look in the
woman’s eyes as she approached. It stung a little, but Abby wasn’t surprised. Anyone would exhibit a similar expression in the presence of a demonstrably dangerous person. Abby would have to find a way to reassure her yet again, make her see that she was only dangerous when threatened. She had killed her own sister for this woman. Had done it for both of them. Surely she could see and understand that.

Abby knelt and set the folded clothes on the cellar floor. Before standing up again, she took a long look at the ugly blisters on the woman’s feet and felt a twinge of shame and remorse. She remembered laughing at Michelle as she lowered her bound feet into the pot of boiling water. Remembered mocking her and slapping her as she screamed and her feet sizzled.

She hesitated a moment longer, unable to tear her eyes away from the terrible sight.

“I forgive you.”

Abby blinked, looked up at Michelle’s face. “What?”

“For what you did. I forgive you.”

Abby’s eyes misted, and a sob temporarily rendered speech impossible. The surge of emotion surprised her. She had done similar things to many other outsiders. Worse things. Like the time she’d punctured a man’s balls with a screwdriver. Or the time she had pulled a woman’s fingernails out with pliers. Things she had thought of as fun at the time. Interesting ways to kill time and amuse herself. And except for that time Ma had gutted that little boy, none of it had ever bothered her much. The outsiders were just human-shaped bags of meat. Dinner and holiday offerings.

Abby sniffled. “How can you forgive me?”

Michelle smiled, an expression that belied the tension evident in her coiled muscles. “Because you’re just a product of your environment, Abby. You never knew any
better. Hell, you’re barely more than a child yourself, which makes you as much a victim as anybody.”

Abby squinted at her.

She didn’t know about that victim bit. But damned if it didn’t speak to some private, achingly hopeful part of her psyche in a powerful way. She wanted to believe what Michelle was saying. Wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything. She didn’t want to think she was a bad person at heart.

She blinked tears from her eyes.

“Thank you for saying that. I can’t tell you how much—”

Michelle heaved an impatient sigh. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Please hurry.”

Abby wiped more moisture from her eyes. “Sorry. I know you’re anxious to get loose.”

She found a little footstool and used it to step up high enough to unlock the shackles around Michelle’s wrists. Michelle dropped heavily to her knees. Abby tossed the shackles and the attached chains to the ground, where they landed with a heavy clunk.

Abby stepped off the stool and stared down at Michelle, who was rubbing her wrists and weeping quietly. Now it was Abby’s turn to feel wary. She didn’t know how Michelle might act, now that she was free. For a moment she felt like a complete fool. She knew nothing about this woman, other than she liked the way she looked and the way her warm, smooth skin felt beneath her fingers. She could only guess at her private thoughts. Could be she was thinking of ways she might ditch Abby after they were out of this place.

She glanced at the blanket-covered form of her dead sister.

The hell with it. It was too late for second thoughts.

“Get your clothes on. We gotta get movin’.”

Michelle fumbled for the clothes with shaking hands. They were the same clothes she’d been wearing the day Jesse Blaylock, the father of three of Laura’s children, had dragged her screaming into the cabin. Tight blue-jean cutoffs. A clingy purple V-neck T-shirt. Panties. Some kind of expensive sandals. But her lacy black bra was gone. No telling what had happened to it. As she admired the way Michelle’s heavy breasts hung loose in the tight T-shirt, she decided she was glad it had gone missing.

Dressed now, Michelle smiled and extended a hand.

“Friends?”

Abby held her breath, allowed the hand to slide into one of her own. The way their fingers interlocked felt so good. So right. The renewed physical contact melted away most of her trepidation. She imagined the hand gliding over the smooth contours of her body and shivered as her nipples stiffened.

She swallowed and said in a small, soft voice, “Yes. Friends.”

Michelle’s other hand settled on Abby’s waist as she leaned in for a quick, light kiss. “I can’t wait to be alone with you later, Abby. I know what a risk you’re taking. I’ll make it worth your while.” She leaned closer still and teased an earlobe with the tip of a tongue, eliciting a low moan from Abby. Then she stepped back and smiled again. “Now get us out of here.”

Abby squeezed Michelle’s hand and felt her heart beat faster.

This was it.

The very beginning of her new life.

She felt like a child on the eve of her first holiday feast.

She stole another quick kiss from Michelle, then turned and led her to the staircase. The old stairs creaked and trembled beneath their combined weight. Abby felt one of the steps sink noticeably lower than it should. She
heard a splintering sound and held her breath, hoping the ancient wood wouldn’t give way beneath them. The decrepit condition of the stairs was nothing new. They had been fragile as far back as she could remember. But the process of decay had accelerated in recent times. Ma had been making noises for months about hiring a carpenter to shore them up, but she had never gotten around to it. Abby raised her right leg and set it on the next step up with an extreme degree of caution.

This time the splintering sound gave way to a louder crack.

Michelle sucked in a startled breath. “Abby…”

“Just hold on.”

She tightened her grip around Michelle’s hand.

“Take it easy.”

She raised her left leg up.

Set it down.

Pulled Michelle up behind her.

Crrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaa-CCCK!

Michelle whined. “Oh, Jesus. Oh, shit.”

Abby tensed.

Stayed absolutely still for a long moment.

The staircase remained intact.

Abby breathed slowly out. “Next step up. Easy. One step at a time.”

She climbed another step up, setting her weight down by slow, careful degrees, holding her breath again as the wood splintered and settled beneath her foot. The slow, painfully tedious process continued until they reached the top. Abby pulled Michelle into the dark pantry and then through into the kitchen.

Michelle clutched at Abby as she tried to stop shaking. “Oh, God, Abby, I didn’t think we would make it.”

Abby stroked her hair. “But we did. Next poor bastard down them stairs is getting their neck broke, though.”

Michelle let go of her hand and moved away from her to take a good look around the kitchen. She opened drawers and sifted through layers of assorted junk.

Abby frowned. “What ya lookin’ for?”

“My wallet. My keys.”

Abby snorted.

Michelle’s brow furrowed as she glanced at her. “What?”

“Ain’t gonna find those things. Your car’s gone. Done been sold to a local dealer. You’ll never see that wallet again, neither.”

Michelle slammed a drawer shut. “Shit!”

Abby flinched. “What’s the matter?”

Michelle spun toward her and glared. “How the fuck are we supposed to get out of here without money and a ride?”

There was an edge to her voice Abby had never heard before. It was devoid of even a hint of the tenderness of moments ago. And the set of her features was harsher now, lips curled in a sneer, jawline a tight and thrumming high-tension wire. The abrupt and dramatic shift in demeanor made her fear the woman a little.

Michelle stalked toward her and clamped a hand around her shoulder. “Abby? Did you fucking hear me? Please don’t tell me letting me out of those fucking shackles was the extent of your escape plan.”

Abby’s face crumpled. “I’m…sorry.”

Michelle sighed heavily. “Fuck!”

Abby sniffled. The unexpected aggression affected her in ways she couldn’t have foreseen. Her whole body was shaking. It was crazy. She shouldn’t be afraid of this woman. If anything, the opposite should still be true. But she was scared, no way to deny it. Michelle was like a whole other person, now that she was no longer a captive. Confident and a thousand times more assertive.
The idea of admitting she had no idea what to do next terrified her.

But then she stopped trembling.

She smiled.

Michelle cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve thought of something. Spit it out.”

“I know a car we can steal. It’s real close. And it’ll be easy.”

Some of the tension eased out of Michelle’s features. They loosened, became softer, and a small smile formed. “Yeah? Where?”

Abby swallowed hard, cleared her throat. “Our closest neighbors are the Colliers. They have an old Plymouth. And I can get to the key easy. We can be there in ten minutes.”

“The Colliers?”

“Yep.”

Michelle squinted and her brow furrowed again. She was trying to think of something. Abby had a feeling she knew what it was, and she was proven right a moment later.

Michelle’s eyes widened. “Yeah. You mentioned them before. They’re the ones who have Lisa.”

“The fat girl. Yeah, they got her.”

Michelle’s expression hardened again. “That ‘fat girl,’ as you call her, is my best friend. I’ve known her since we were babies. So show a little respect, okay?”

Abby’s face flushed. Her fingers clutched at her dress as waves of anxiety rippled through her. “I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Michelle rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Hush, Abby. It doesn’t matter. You said you could get to the key. What about Lisa? Could we get to her?”

Abby made herself breathe in and out a few times in an effort to slow the anxious racing of her heart. “I probably
could. The Colliers are a bunch of sorry assholes. I maybe could even—”

A frown creased her face.

Michelle had turned away from her in midsentence and was opening cabinets and drawers again. She jerked one drawer so hard it came all the way out of its slot. She dumped the contents on the floor and knelt to sort through them. “Keep talking, Abby. I’m listening.”

Abby coughed. “Yeah. Uh…anyways, they’re all sorta shiftless and lazy. Bunch of sloppy drunks. I know I could get your friend out of there.”

“Aha!”

Michelle closed a hand around something and stood up.

Abby frowned.

It was an old hunting knife in a sheath. She was pretty sure it had belonged to her father. Michelle unsheathed the big knife and held it close to her face. She ran the ball of a thumb lightly along the sharp, serrated edge. Abby fidgeted and chewed on a thumbnail while Michelle inspected the heavy-duty blade.

Michelle looked at her. “What? You seem bothered.”

“That was my daddy’s. He’s…dead.”

Michelle blew out a breath and rolled her eyes again. “So fucking what? We may have to defend ourselves at some point. Hey, are there any guns around?”

The question made Abby groan. “Yeah, but…”

Michelle’s expression was puzzled for a moment. Then her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me…”

Abby nodded. “Yeah. Couple of hunting rifles. They’re in the cellar.”

“Might as well be on Neptune.”

“Yeah. Something else down there, too. Big jar of cash. Plumb forgot all about it in the excitement.”

Michelle scraped the blunt edge of the blade along her chin. “Huh. How much cash?”

Abby shrugged. “Right around fifty thousand dollars.”

Michelle’s mouth dropped open. She gave her head a hard shake and stalked toward Abby, stopping scant inches from her. “Abby, don’t take this the wrong way, but how on earth could a bunch of cracker-ass inbred redneck fucks have fifty grand stashed away?”

Abby gave her an abbreviated rundown on the sordid history of the Maynard family’s activities during Prohibition.

Michelle tossed her head back and laughed. Color rose in her cheeks and made them shine in the lantern light. “Oh, Abby…”

Abby’s brows knit together. Her fingers worried at her dress again. She had a feeling she was being made fun of now. “Why are you laughing at me?”

Some of the mirth faded from Michelle’s face as she sobered slightly. “Abby, I’m sorry—you’ve got some good qualities, but intelligence is not one of them. Did you really imagine you could go around passing eighty-year-old bills without drawing the law’s attention?”

“I did wonder about that.”

“You wondered about it.”

Abby felt a bit of defensive pride kick in. “That’s right. I did.”

Michelle shook her head. “Oh, hell. It doesn’t matter. We’ll figure something out. Maybe rob a fucking liquor store on our way out of town for some cash.” She paused, pursing her lips. “This town does have liquor stores?”