Unforgivable (22 page)

“It’s just girl stuff,” Geraldine said.

He kept slowing down so they’d think he was at least trying to find a turnaround spot. He already knew civilization thinned out from there. The forest grew thick on either side of the road for miles.

“I know a road up here a ways. It’ll be a safe place to turn around.”

He’d already unlatched the gate. When it was open, it blended into the vines surrounding it. All they’d see was the dark road leading to hell. Their hell, his heaven.

He kept his eyes on the road ahead, but sensed their growing unease. He did nothing more to soothe them. When he saw his landmark, a state road sign next to a sign asking drivers not to litter, he slowed down.

“Hang on, I’m going to swing around.”

Dana grabbed the strap and Geraldine braced herself against the dash. He swung into the road that was barely discernable, especially at night. But he didn’t turn around. Before they even realized it, they’d plunged into the black opening of the forest.

“Hey, where are you going?” Geraldine said, swiveling on the seat.

“I’m turning around,” he said in a flat voice. 

He turned on the interior light, not wanting to miss a thing. The girls didn’t want to think the worst yet. No one did. Being taken against their will happened to other people.

They were holding hands now…waiting. The barn came into view as he came to a stop. Dana was quicker than he thought, grabbing for the door handle.

“Stop!” he said, pulling the gun from between the seat and the door with his left hand and snagging Geraldine’s arm with the other. “I hate when I have to shoot them right off the bat.”

Reality dawned on them, freezing their faces and filling their eyes with disbelief and terror. The transformation, that’s what he loved. The utter and sweet control to turn their charming little lives into a nightmare. He enjoyed watching it happen, logging it into his memory for the future when the other side of him lived within the confines of the law.

Two would be a challenge, he’d known that. He didn’t let go of the girl’s arm; the other girl he’d control with the gun. “Get out. Slowly. If you try to run, I’ll have to shoot you. If you cooperate, I’ll be easy on you.”

“You’re not going to let us go, are you?” Geraldine whispered. “Because you won’t take the chance that we’ll turn you in.”

She was smart. He slid across the seat, nudging her ahead of him and holding the gun to the other one. She looked ready to bolt, but her deer eyes shifted between the gun and the grip he had on her friend.

“We’ll see.”

Every step was a thrill as he readied himself for pleasure. He pushed them ahead of him into the building. It smelled musty, as it usually did. The girls huddled together against the far wall whimpering.

What to do with two of them…he looked around the single room, then back to their huddling form. He pointed to one of them. “You, cuff her hands to the bed.”

Their gazes went simultaneously to the bed. He’d left the cuffs there this time, and he enjoyed anew the terror blazing in their eyes. Both girls shook their heads.

He walked closer to them, and they pushed close against the wall. He didn’t want to leave himself open by cuffing one of them himself while the other was free. He pressed the end of the gun to Geraldine’s cheek. “Cuff her.”

She started crying. “Why are you doing this to me? I know you! I served you at the diner just the other day!”

“You know one side of me. Now you’re going to get to know the other side.”

Her sobs deepened. He gripped the back of her neck and shoved her toward the bed. She fell onto the lumpy mattress and curled into herself. The gun now pressed against Dana’s face. “Okay, you cuff her then.”

He thought Geraldine would be more of a fighter. Dana was crying, but she was still looking for a way out. He saw the survivalist gleam in her eyes. She slowly walked to the bed. Her hand trembled when she took one of Geraldine’s wrists. Geraldine screamed and pulled back. Dana met his eyes, perhaps searching for a speck of mercy. That gleam dimmed, and she turned back to her friend.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly as she slid the cuff over her friend’s wrist and clamped it shut.

The reality of that set Geraldine into a fit of screaming and thrashing. Dana shrunk back against the wall, pain wracking her features. He pointed the gun at her. “Cuff her other hand!” She slowly pushed away from the wall and approached her friend. Geraldine fought her, though Dana wasn’t trying too hard. He was tempted to shoot off a round to show the girls he meant business, but making that kind of sound was reserved only for a last ditch effort. The screaming, however, would go unnoticed, though it usually got to his nerves before long.

He shoved Dana against the wall, grabbed Geraldine’s wrist and cuffed her himself. She continued to scream and thrash. He grabbed Dana next and cuffed her wrists to the foot rails. Both girls were at opposite ends of the bed. Both were screaming and kicking now, even kicking each other by accident.

He jerked their shoes off, then the socks, and stuffed a sock in Dana’s mouth first. She bit him in the process, but luckily hadn’t drawn blood. He balled up the other sock and turned to Geraldine.

Her voice was thick with fear and crying. “Why are you doing this? Why, why, why?”

He smiled. “Because I want to.” And then he stuffed the sock in her mouth.

He stood looking at them. Their feet were tied to the rails now, and their naked bodies overlapped. This should be a sweet moment, looking at what he now owned, knowing he could do whatever he wanted with them. Yet, something was lacking inside him again. He thought knowing his victims would give him a thrill. It left him cold as he took in the mix of hatred and fear on their faces. 

He’d made his first mistake, that’s what was wrong. He’d let his anger get the upper hand. As soon as someone realized they were missing, a massive search would ensue. A search he’d be part of. Naturally, he could be the one to cover this area, but he couldn’t take the chance of leaving the girls there. He would have to dispose of them now. 

What would Katie think if she knew? What if she were there right now, watching him? Maybe she would enjoy holding someone’s life in her hands, controlling them completely. He pictured her sitting there, but the picture turned to Katie cuffed to the bed rails.

If she knew…would she understand? Could she forgive him his sins?

Silas had seen the two young, naked bodies on the bed, one secured to the foot rail and one to the head rail. He’d seen the butterfly tattoo on one girl’s shoulder. He knew her, had seen that fresh face before. Geraldine. God, this had to stop. Flashes had bombarded his brain like gunfire: the two girls, their terror, that road that disappeared into the woods. Accompanying the flashes were the feelings, the anticipation, the pleasure at their terror. He touched them, tortured them with his violation, and terrified them with the way he enjoyed their distress. Everything came in vivid detail, overtaking his own senses.

He hadn’t killed them yet. 

Silas always tried to follow it at first, trying to find the clues that would show him where the girls were. He held on for as long as he could, until the images overwhelmed his brain and blacked him out. It hadn’t gone as far this time. He’d only just begun the games.

When Silas woke, it was still dark. He wasn’t in his vehicle. He blinked to get his bearings, rubbing his hands over his face. Something sticky transferred from his hands to his face. He couldn’t see anything. The moon was blotted out by thick clouds. He touched the tip of his tongue to his hand. Blood.

He jerked to his feet and stumbled before catching his balance. As his vision tuned in to the dark, he saw a highway that disappeared into the night. He was standing a few yards from it, wildflowers and weeds up to his knees.

The Navigator was farther down in the swale, its nose end buried in the bushes. He started to run his hand over his face in exasperation, but remembered the blood.

Where the hell had it come from?

It was too dark to see himself, but he dimly became aware of a throbbing pain in his arm. More sticky stuff covered his arm. He yanked off his shirt and wrapped it around his arm. As his mind cleared, he remembered the shoe. He nearly stumbled as he made his way to his vehicle. The engine wasn’t running. He pulled out a flashlight and started searching the area. 

He found an old milk carton, three beer bottles, and an old, dirty diaper before finding it. A glittery pink Scetchers sneaker with a thick heel. It was wet, so wet it glistened in the light. He searched the highway again, though whoever had thrown this here was long gone.

Or was he?

He shuddered at the thought. Charles Swenson had changed him that awful day, there was no doubt about that. But how much?

He walked back down to his vehicle and searched it. No signs of a struggle or that two girls had been inside. It was only a small relief. He’d probably just missed whoever had thrown that shoe there.

Could you handle knowing the killer is you?

He tried to shake those words out of his head. He was the best prime suspect, according to his own evidence. He’d been in the area when the girls had been taken, drawn there by an irresistible force that rendered him unconscious. He’d seen the victims. Though he hadn’t found every shoe, he’d found a few of them. The last two times he’d woken up shortly after the shoe had been left there. If he were a cop, he’d arrest himself. 

There hadn’t been the conspicuous patrol vehicle parked on the road near his driveway when he’d left. Soon he’d found out why—Gary had been called away on a domestic disturbance call. Harold hadn’t been home, either.

Would you turn yourself in?
that insidious voice asked.

Of course he would. Or he’d drive north to the Smoky Mountains and sail off a cliff.

Did Dr. Hyde remember what Mr. Jekyll had done? He climbed into his vehicle and started it. It took some maneuvering, but he finally got back on the road. He drove until he found a highway marker, then pulled out a map to find out where the hell he was.

He narrowed it down to Juliette. Miles away from Flatlands, and he remembered nothing of the drive. Something else: Anne Clasp had disappeared from Juliette a year ago.

He ignored his throbbing arm and searched for the hidden road he’d gotten a glimpse of.  The night revealed none of its secrets, nor did his mind. He’d have to return during the day to search.

The first thing he did was check on Katie. It was late, and he figured she’d be asleep. He didn’t want to talk to her, just make sure she was all right. He cut his lights halfway down her drive, left the engine running, and walked the rest of the way. Her bedroom light was on, as well as the front porch light. He felt a step closer to that evil being as he walked around the side and looked in the bedroom window. The blinds were closed, of course, but he could see through the tiny holes. Her leg jiggled nervously. He saw a corner of a book, and the tip of her finger. Relief flooded him; she was all right.

He owed her an explanation, and she would darn well hold him to it. That feisty little girl he’d known wasn’t far beneath the surface. Although he was glad, he didn’t much like when she used her feistiness on him. Now wasn’t the time to tell her anything, not shirtless and bleeding.

Bone tired, he dragged himself to his vehicle. As soon as he got home, he let The Boss out and unwound his shirt from his arm. Dots of blood oozed from a fine cut down the outside of his arm. Using his good arm, he opened the first aid kit and doused the cut with peroxide. Then he put on antibiotic and wrapped gauze around it.

He had no memory of getting that cut, no idea how it happened. Worse than the sting of the peroxide was the fact that it added yet another arrow of guilt pointed right at him.

Later he settled onto his air mattress, The Boss lying at his side. He gently rested his injured arm on the dog’s back and moved his fingers over his course hair. The dog barely lifted his head. He searched his mind for anything that would be the key to finding where the girls were hidden. Somewhere in this area, but that included hundreds of acres of remote forestland. He’d look tomorrow as soon as he escorted Katie and Harold to work.

Katie.

It felt as though someone had dropped an anvil on his chest. He shot to his feet. Katie had flowed into that miasma of images and thoughts, of terror and pleasure. The Ghost had wondered if Katie would forgive him. And he’d pictured Katie on that bed instead of the girls.

That kept him up the rest of the night.

Grover Thompson hauled a bucket of leftovers from Thelma’s canning out to the pig stalls. That woman’s insomnia was going to drive him crazy. Here it was four in the morning and no breakfast even started. The place smelled like peaches and blackberries, and not a stitch of food for himself. She’d sent him out with the peelings and a promise to start breakfast.

Thump. Thump.

He heard the strange sound first, and then the commotion in the pig stalls. Not loud, but enough to indicate they were excited about something. The pigs used one of his old barns once the cows got moved into larger quarters. An opening led out to the troughs and mud pit. All the pigs were gathered around that opening eating something in the troughs.

He opened the gate. It creaked, reminding him for the umpteenth time to bring out the WD-40. What the heck were they eating at this time of morning? They were crunching and slurping as though they hadn’t eaten in days. He flipped on the light, which didn’t phase the pigs one bit.

He trudged through the muddy ground to check it out. From the corner of his eye, he caught movement in the shadows. By the time he turned around, the pen was doused in darkness again. He dropped the bucket and wished he were younger, stronger. The pigs were making such a ruckus, he couldn’t hear if someone was approaching.

The pain was so sharp, he thought he’d imagined it at first. He felt it knife into his back and twist inside him. He couldn’t even call out; the pain had sucked the air from his lungs. As he dropped to his knees in the muck, he saw the shadowy figure standing behind him. The mud was warm from the day’s heat, warm and comforting as he rolled onto his side. Above him was the person who had done this to him for no reason. He saw the figure raise his arms, and then it was all over.