Murder in the Mist (26 page)

Laura turned away. Rough hands grasped her chin and forced her to look. She struggled to keep her voice calm. “Where is your mother, Benjamin?”

He merely grinned. Bennie’s voice, matter of fact, said, “
She’s dead. Grandfather fed her to the sharks. He didn’t like screamin’ either
.”

She swiped a trembling hand through her short cropped hair. “If you let me go, I promise not to scream.”

A series of rolling booms vibrated the cabin, followed by the rat-a-tat-tat cadence of exploding firecrackers. Visible from the window, sparkling light flashed like ghostly fingers through the fog-shrouded mist.

Benjamin swayed on his feet. He beat at his head and shrieked, “Bennie…crabs…get them off…they’re eating my brain!”

The voice changed. “Face it like a man. I brought the bitch here. Now are you going to do her, or is it up to me to love her?”

Laura had used her newspaper connections to gain partial access to Benjamin’s medical records. Apparently something had retriggered his paranoia schizophrenia. He was clearly delusional. She waded through a mash of emotions trying to formulate a plan. With her bad leg, she wasn’t much for running.

She prayed the muscles wouldn’t seize up, and moved as quickly as her hip allowed. She sprang from the bed and, with a one-two punch, pushed all the force she could muster into her arm and then smashed the heel of her hand against Benjamin’s nose.

He yowled and staggered backward, slamming against the wall.

Footsteps pounding behind her registered in her brain. Hands gripped her hair, jerking her head back. A hard smack of flesh against wood cracked the air.

Laura cried out in pain as her body was flung to the floor. Benjamin straddled her with his knees. The window shade hung askew from where she had torn it from the sill, allowing a view of the fireworks lighting the darkened sky.

She wasn’t sure who spoke to her—Bennie or Benjamin. “Get up, bitch. I’m not through with you.”

She placed both hands against his chest. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me if I didn’t scream, and I didn’t. Good people don’t break their word, Benjamin.”

He snarled and swung his meaty right paw in a powerful slam across Laura’s cheek. “Scream, damn you. I can’t love you until you scream.”

A cut along her brow dribbled blood. Ears ringing, she struggled to push from beneath his weight. “No, I won’t.”

He leaned close and pressed his slobbering lips against hers. She turned her head aside, as he pinned her arms over her head, and with the other hand he fumbled with the waistline of her slacks. She twisted and reared against him, kicking.

And then the unexpected happened.

Benjamin grabbed his head and rolled to one side, knees drawn into a protective ball. He moaned and whimpered. Blood leaked from his nose to drip on the floor. “It hurts…my head…unbearable pain.”

“You’re sick, Benjamin. Let me help you.” She patted her pants pocket. The cell phone wasn’t there. Anxiety filtered through her. She challenged herself to remain calm. As an investigative reporter, this wasn’t her first dangerous gig. “If you have a phone, let me call Deputy Carter to get you to a doctor. I won’t press charges, Benjamin. I’ll even tell Deputy Carter this was all a mistake.”

With slow, precise movements, she stood, biting against the pain as her hip refused to rotate into place.

Benjamin’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. He used the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his nose. For a moment, he stared at the bright red smear.

When he spoke, Laura recognized Bennie’s voice and watched a feverish, rabid glow light his eyes as he unfurled and stood. “No phone, or doctor, or lawman. There’s a bomb inside my head. It’s going to explode soon. I can feel it, and when it does, you’re going to die with me, because that’s what lovers do…don’t they? Die together?”

Everything slowed down. In desperation, Laura lunged, using her fingernails to gouge deep lines down his face. The assault threw him off balance. She used the momentum to escape through the front door and down the steps.

Which way…which way? Fog blanketed the area. Except for the ghostly outline of the cabin, visibility was near zero. She turned in a circle, trying to get her bearings.

A series of high-pitched, whirling whistles disturbed the silence, and a barrage of Roman candles lit the sky lending temporary light—enough for Laura to see the narrow lane leading away from the house. At this elevation the gleeful shouts of Fourth of July spectators sounded close by. Help was so near, but so far away. She suppressed the scream building in her throat.

A door slammed. His demented laughter sent a cascade of shivers over her. “Don’t you understand, Laura? The only way Bennie can love you is to hear the snap of your neck…and you won’t get far with your bad leg.”

She knew her best chance of survival was making it to the paved road, yet she knew she couldn’t outrun him on even ground. The park was closer than town. Praying she’d made the decision that might save her life, she veered right, into the woods and up the hill toward the voices.

Footsteps, and panting, and crackling underbrush.

Time slowed and blurred in her mind, but everything happened in flashes as she struggled to climb the slope. Brambles snagged her clothes; thorns tore the palms of her hands. No matter. If she could just reach the park… Hard fingers closed around her ankle and yanked her back.

She stumbled, losing her balance when her foot caught on a rut or a clump of roots. On her way to the ground, she saw Benjamin’s dark silhouette through the dense white sea fog.

****

Phyllis sat on the edge of her bed, kicked off her shoes, and wriggled the toes on her tired feet. She glanced at the bedside clock. Ten o’clock. A mild concern wafted over her that she hadn’t met up with Laura during the festivities. Dismissing the thought, she reached for her pajamas, then decided to read awhile before going to bed.

She hadn’t realized she’d drifted off until the phone rang. Blinking away the grogginess, she said, “Hello, Laura?”

“No, it’s Bryan.”

“Oh, thanks for the message not to come to the park. Did Laura contact you?”

“That’s why I’m calling. I was concerned that you hadn’t received my message.”

“She went to her office to get her camera and was going to call from there. I guess she got sidetracked, thinking about doing some man-on-the-street type of interviews. It’ll probably be late when she gets in. How about coming for breakfast in the morning—around nine?”

“Sure.”

Phyllis frowned as she disconnected. Laura wasn’t forgetful, unless she had deliberately avoided Bryan. No, she didn’t buy that reasoning, either. Slipping on a robe and slippers, she went to the hall closet and grabbed a flashlight.

Noises filled the night—car doors slamming, people laughing or shouting out their goodbyes to each other, a few firecrackers popping in the distance, the slap-flap of her slippers as she walked the few steps down the alley to the newspaper’s back door. Nothing to create caution or cause concern until she reached for the doorknob and realized she stared into darkness.

It wasn’t like Laura to forget to close the door. Butterflies winged their way through Phyllis’s stomach. “Yoo-hoo, Laura, are you in there?”

She shone the flashlight inside the darkened storage area, then reached in to flip the light switch. Phyllis was certain an icy fist squeezed her heart when she entered the office. Her hand flew to her mouth. Even in the dimmed light the sight sent chills through her. “Oh, dear Godfrey!”

She set the flashlight on the desk. Her hand trembled as she picked up the phone and dialed.

“Deputy Carter.”

“Mitch, is Laura with you?”

“Haven’t seen her all evening.”

“Something bad has happened. I-I think she’s been abducted.”

“What? Where are you?”

“In her office, and Mitch, there’s white roses scattered all over the place, and it looks like she might have put up a struggle.”

“Don’t touch anything. I’m on foot. Too many people to use the car. Be there in ten minutes.”

“Go to the back door. I’m afraid to unlock the front.”

Phyllis stood in the silence and stared around the room. Tension filled her as she stared in horror.

It seemed forever before Mitch called out, “Phyllis, it’s Mitch. I’m coming in.”

She rushed to him. “It’s that crazy Benjamin Noone. He’s got Laura. Oh, wait until I tell Maudie. I’ve told her repeatedly not to be nice to that man.”

Mitch gripped the near-hysterical woman by the shoulders. “How do you know Noone has Laura?”

By this time, Phyllis had flipped on the interior office lights. “He was so stupid he left a message.” She pointed to the paper taped to the office chair.

Mitch stared at it. He took note of the scattered buds and the area’s disarray. “No one loves you.”

“No, Mitch.
Noone
looks like
no one
because of the gap between the two o’s. The demented idiot can’t even spell his own name.”

He frowned, then nodded. “Oh, hell. I missed it. Stupid me.”

“You’re not stupid. Apparently, Laura missed it, too.” She blinked at him through tears.

“Don’t let him harm my niece. She’s been hurt enough.”

“Count on it, Phyllis. Come, let me walk you to Maudie’s. I don’t want you alone in the apartment. Do you need anything before we go?”

She wiped her eyes and pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Saving my niece is first and foremost. Right now, Maudine Perry is the last person I want to see.”

“Maudie is your friend. She takes everyone under her wing. There’s no way she or any of us foresaw Benjamin as anything more than he appeared.”

“In my head, I know you’re right. It’s my heart that feels differently. I’d rather be alone.”

He escorted her to the side entrance of the bookstore. “Do I need to remind you to lock the door?”

She cut him a smirk. “Do what you have to do, Mitch—even if it means killing the lunatic before he harms Laura. I just pray he hasn’t.”

She disappeared inside and clicked the deadbolt into place.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Mitch’s first call was to Bryan. He explained the situation. “Laura is smart enough to know that Noone’s property butts up to the park and is closer to it than to town. If escape is possible, she’ll make for your direction. Alert your rangers, and Bryan, you’re the official law enforcement inside the park. If necessary, don’t hesitate to use deadly force.”

Bryan’s voice sounded as if he were speaking through clenched teeth. “The son of bitch will pay if he harms one hair on her head. Mitch, the road is jam-packed with traffic. The fastest way to get here is by boat.”

“Roger that. My gut tells me the jack-off will head to Thunder Hole. That’s where I’ll beach.”

Mitch disconnected and punched a new set of numbers.

“’Lo?”

“Where are you, Harmon?”

“At the boat yahd. Just gettin’ ready to rest my tired feet.”

Mitch filled in the details to the old auxiliary deputy, and finished with, “Don’t remove your badge and uniform yet.”

“I knew all along that pissah wasn’t right in the head. I’ll fire up the engines and get ready for cast off.”

Mitch sprinted toward the marina. His stride built momentum on the downward stretch to the pier. As soon as he spotted the boat, he shouted, “Cast off.” In one leap he boarded the vessel.

Harmon tossed the lines to the dock. He stepped inside the cabin and spoke over his shoulder. “Fog’s thicker’n pea soup. Don’t mattah. I’ve adjusted the radar, and once we get to the first buoy, I’ll breathe a little easier.”

“How long until we get there?”

“Normally, ten or fifteen minutes. Mabbe thirty, in this fog, unless we get a break and the mist lifts, which is doubtful.”

“Not what I want to hear.”

“Can’t control the weathah. It is what it is.”

Mitch peered through the thick veil of gray haze. “Yeah.”

There was only the sound of the boat slicing through the choppy waters, the distant clanging of the buoy, and the blip...blip…blip of the radar marking the way. The clanging grew louder.

Mitch peered through the murk, cursing the injustice of the weather. He glanced at his watch again, in aggravated disbelief.

“Lookin’ at that waterberry ain’t gonna make time go by any fastah.”

It seemed forever before Harmon lifted his left arm and pointed. “Buoy’s starboard, which means the beach is just ahead on the port side.”

“What about the fog light?”

Harmon shot him a fleeting look. “All it’ll do is light up the fog. Won’t help with visibility until we’re on top of what we’re lookin’ for.”

Mitch’s frustration continued to grow. His heart rate jacked up a notch in anger as he glanced at his watch.

Harmon switched on the spotlight and turned it starboard. “Thar she be…the buoy.”

In the veil of mist, the marker bobbed up and down like a dancing ghost.

Mitch felt the boat shift to the left. He placed his hand against the service revolver strapped to his hip.

****

I’m going to die, Laura thought. Her hip collapsed, and she fell to her knees. Her nose and lip bled. Rough hands yanked her up. They were on the path now—familiar territory. She was confident her aunt had missed her by now and notified Mitch. She needed to stall for time. Mitch and Bryan would come for her. They would figure out her strategy. She
needed
to stall for time. “Benjamin, why did you kill those girls?”

He turned her so that she faced him. It seemed as if he was experiencing some kind of pain. “I didn’t want to. Bennie made me.”

“You don’t have to kill me. You don’t have to hurt anyone ever again.”

She thought she saw tears in his eyes when he said, “I do. I have to because Bennie said so.”

A small smile lit his face. It grew into a grin, but there was something different about the expression in his eyes. His voice changed. “
Aw, Bennie...Bennie, don’t you see what she’s tryin’ to do? Playin’ on your sympathy.
”

He grabbed a handful of hair and jerked Laura forward. “
I told you, she’s the last one. I’ve saved the very best for last
.”