Deadly Consequences (13 page)

“Guess who else I got in these pics?” Lombardo’s voice pulled her back to the present.

“William Thorpe.” Alec said, holding up another photo. “Here he is with our two ladies.”

She snatched the picture out of his hand. “Damn it. Why didn’t I see this sooner?” Sam banged her fist on the bar. “The bastard was in front of us the whole time.”

“Wait, there’s more.” Alec held out another photograph. “Some old pictures got mixed in with the batch; somebody must have brought them to the reunion and forgot about them.”

“Thorpe again?” she asked.

“Yeah, but check it out.”

She snatched the photo out of his hand. The shot was taken in a High School gymnasium. A large banner strung over the stage read “Senior Prom 1987.” The picture was a standard posed shot of a young William Thorpe with one of the victims.

Twenty years ago, he had to have been the class geek. His head was a crown of untamed curly brown hair. He wore thick black glasses, his gaudy light blue tux, and ruffled shirt clashed with the girls red satin gown. On her head was a silver tiara, she wore a sash over one shoulder decorated with the words “Prom Queen Class of 1987.”

The girl’s posture was rigid. The fake smile plastered on her face couldn’t disguise her disgust at being photographed with Thorpe. In the left-hand corner of the snapshot, another boy hovered in the background. He was tall, blonde, and muscular, with handsome features and cold blue eyes. That boy was wearing a black tux with a red shirt and boutonniere. He was obviously the girl’s real date.

Sam closed her eyes, imaging what came next. Kids that age could be cruel, devising viscous pranks to torture kids who didn’t fit in.

William Thorpe hadn’t fit in.

She thought about his nervous speech patterns, his preference for animals over humans, the rage that had cooked inside him for twenty years.
What could they have done to Thorpe all those years ago that was bad enough to turn him into a cold-blooded monster?

She gripped the edge of the bar. That’s why he couldn’t resist taking Cassie, despite the risk. It was her prom night, and she was the prom queen. He took Cassie to punish her. Alone, behind the shelter of the shade trees, she was an easy target, especially for someone dressed in a security uniform. Sam felt a sharp twist in her stomach. Thorpe hadn’t counted on a witness. CeCe came forward, forcing him to change his plans.

“The sonofabitch thinks he in the clear,” she said. “He set Victor Vasquez up to take the fall, knowing CeCe’s story would confirm that a security guard took Cassie. He leaves Victor for dead, thinking the blow to the head killed him, loosening the ropes on the chair, wanting us to believe Cassie escaped, killing Victor in the struggle.”

“The bastard tied things up in a neat little bow, then handed it to us on a silver platter.” Alec swore.

“We’ve got one chance to get this right. I’m not taking risks; I want men in every building, searching top to bottom, but I think I know where he is. We have the advantage.” Sam pulled out her glock, double-checking the chamber. “Let’s go get the sonofabitch.”

Sam crouched on the ground, searching for a trap door.

“You sure about this, Sam?” Alec knelt nearby. “Seems like a long shot to me.”

“While you and Lombardo were going through the pictures, I was studying the blueprints. There’s an old coal shaft behind the reptile house .Thorpe probably used as a way in and out since we had men guarding the main entrance.” She used the back of her arm to brush the bangs off her face. “Thorpe is clever. He led us to Victor, counting on the fact that once we processed the scene there would be no reason for us to come back. One of the vials we found in the basement contained an elephant tranquilizer. I’m guessing he drugged Cassie, shoved her in the shaft for safekeeping, and plans to kill her the same way he murdered the other women.”

Lombardo grunted, “Only a fool would go back to the scene of the crime.”

“Thorpe’s cocky.” Sam reminded him. ‘He thinks he’s won. All he has to do is sit tight until we clear out, then he has his playground back again.”

“Hey,” Alec called. “I found the coal shoot.”

Alec slid his fingers through the ring, pulling the metal door open with ease. He raised a brow, peering down. “There’s a ladder, and it’s new.”

“All right.” Sam straightened to a stand. “I’m going in. You both know what to do.”

Alec grabbed her arm. “Be careful.”

“You too.” She ran around to the front of the building, entering through the front door, making no effort to conceal her presence. Her heels clattered on the concrete stairs. If Thorpe was in the basement, she was giving him ample warning.

“Mr. Thorpe,” she called out. “William? It’s Detective Black. Hannah Phillips told me I might find you down here. I want to thank you for helping us close the case.”

Nothing.

Sam followed the narrow hallway. “Mr. Thorpe?”

Her heart pounded in her chest.
Damn it, she couldn’t be wrong.

“William?” She suspected the use of his first name would irk him. “Your boss told me I might find you here. I want to thank you for your assistance, but I must also remind you that this is a crime scene and you have no authority to be down here.”

He came at her from behind, knocking her off balance. Before she could react, she felt the knife at her throat.

“Detective Black,” his voice was smooth, without a hint of a stutter. “Or should I call you Samantha Blackstone? That is your real name, isn’t it?”

“My name is Sam Black.” The blade was cold, pressing against the pulse in her neck. She lowered her eyes, watching his sweaty hand tremble on the handle.

“That may be what you call yourself now, but I did my research. Amazing the sorts of things you can find out.”

“Don’t be a fool, Thorpe,” she said, slipping her hand inside her purse to reach for her gun. He anticipated her move and yanked it from her bag, sending it flying across the floor.

“That’s what you take me for isn’t it? A fool? Samantha Blackstone, former Michigan Avenue shrink to the city’s elite, former
prom queen,
wanting to thank the likes of me?” He dug the blade into her throat. “Did you really think I’d fall for that? Did you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The gun was at least three feet away. There was no way to reach it. She swallowed her fear, hoping she hadn’t made a fatal mistake by walking in unarmed.

“Don’t play dumb, Samantha. It doesn’t suit you.” He dragged her towards the basement door, towards his killing room. “
You
are one of those women who think they’re better than men. I knew it the instant I met you, when you undermined that nice Detective Lombardo by insisting you were in charge.”

“I
am
in charge.” She had to keep him talking. Sam never anticipated him lying in wait for her. She’d planned on catching him off guard and distracting him while the men rescued Cassie.

“You see, that’s exactly the kind of attitude I’m talking about. Any fool can see he’s a more experienced detective than you, but instead of being grateful for his help, you humiliated him.”

She had to switch gears, get him talking about something else. “What did they do to you, William? How did they humiliate you?”

“Who?” The knife wavered slightly.

“Your prom date? Class of 1987? And her boyfriend? What did they do to humiliate you?”

“Shut up,” he yelled, unlocking the door, and tossing her inside. “Shut the hell up.”

Sam fell to her knees, feeling the sting of concrete rush up to greet her. Thorpe pulled the door shut behind them, waving the knife in her direction. She scrambled to her feet, looking for something to use as a weapon when her eyes locked with Cassie’s.

The girl was bound and gagged, tied to the chair, with a dirty cloth shoved in her mouth. Her bloodstained tiara sat on her head at a haphazard angle, there was a wide gash on her face from where Thorpe backhanded her into submission. Her dress bunched up at the waist, Thorpe exposed her when he shoved a blue and white garter high on her thigh.

Sam instinctively knew that was the amputation point.

Cassie moaned through the gag, eyes pleading for help. Her wrists and ankles were raw and bloody from her struggle to escape.

Sam ripped her gaze away, focusing on Thorpe. “Whatever they did must have been pretty bad if the only way you can get off is by killing and torturing women.”

“I said shut up,” he screamed, rushing forward, jabbing at her with the knife.

She sidestepped the blow, darting towards Cassie, hoping for a chance to loosen the ropes. “What did they do Thorpe, pull your pants down? Show everybody your little pecker? Now the only way you can get it up is by tying a woman down?”

“You bitches think you’re queens with those dime store crowns on your heads. That little whore.” He swung the knife towards Cassie. “Was mouthing off to her boyfriend, making a fool of him in front of you,” Thorpe spat on the ground. “She’s not so proud now, is she?”

“Her boyfriend is a two bit punk who slaps women around, just like you,” Sam challenged. She needed to find his breaking point so she could gain the advantage. “You’re a pig Thorpe, a cowardly sonofabitch.”

“You bitch,” he screamed, lunging at her with the knife.

Sam dodged him, baiting him further. “Why do you cut women’s legs off, Thorpe? Is that the only way you can keep them from running away from a sad, pathetic creature like you?”

His panted, face mottled with anger, darting back and forth with the knife. “You wanna know why I took their legs? Because they didn’t deserve them.”

“That’s bullshit Thorpe and you know it. A coward always blames someone else for what he does.”

“They accepted the garters I got them, that I paid for with hard-earned money I made by mopping floors working as a janitor so I could afford to go to a private school. They teased me, raising their dresses, showing me their legs, making me think I’d get a chance to take the garter off and wear it on my arm, showing the world they belong to me.”

“You sick, twisted bastard, that’s not what a garter means. It’s a stupid, silly tradition that means nothing,” she screamed, chest heaving, exhausted from trying to elude the knife.

“That didn’t give those bitches the right to humiliate me, to dress me up, invite me to the prom, and then…then when it came time for the prom queen’s dance, do you know what they did?” He shrieked. “They waited until the spotlight was on us. Waited until the entire Senior class parted, watching us take our place in the middle of the gym.” His eyes glazed over, reliving the memory. “The queen’s court dumped buckets of dog shit all over me while everyone laughed. Their boyfriends held me down, putting on rubber gloves to smear it all over me. Then one of them pulled down my pants and bent me over…and they…they raped me with a god damn shoe. When they were finally done with me, they threw me in a dumpster, slammed the lid shut, and wheeled me out in the alley, leaving me there to rot.”

Sam recoiled, sickened by the story. Back then, Thorpe’s only crime had been being poor, working his way to a better life by cleaning up the privileged kid’s trash and mopping their floors. One single cruel act twenty years ago led to the deaths of three people, possibly four, if Victor Vasquez didn’t make it.

Thorpe boiled with rage. Sam took a step back. “You said
they
, you had two dates?”

“How stupid are you?” He screamed. “They got me two years in a row.”

Jesus.
After what he’d endured, he’d found the courage to believe another girl cared for him enough to invite him to her prom. Thorpe had a devastating need for acceptance, making her wonder what his childhood had been like.

Sam hesitated. Thorpe was damaged, and in need of psychological help. The hesitation cost her. He grabbed her by the hair, and threw her down, pinning her arm to the floor with the knife. She screamed in agony, feeling the blade rip through flesh and muscle, and rolled to her side, trying to pull the knife out. Cassie shrieked behind her gag, rocking in the chair, struggling to distract him.

Thorpe kicked Sam’s free arm to the floor, stepping on her hand with his foot. “Maybe I should show you what it feels like. Maybe then, you’ll understand.”

Her eyes widened as he reached for his zipper. Grunting in pain, she brought her legs up to her chest, kicking him hard in the stomach. Thorpe stumbled backwards. Clenching her teeth, she ripped the knife out of her arm, holding it out in front of her.