Have You Seen Her? (46 page)

Brad held on. “You’ll get her back, Dad. We have to believe that.”

Steven sucked in a deep breath and straightened, pulling his palms over his face to dry his eyes. “We have to have courage.”

Friday, October 14, 11:30
P.M.

He’d cut her hair.

She was still weak from the last round of dreams, populated by hundreds of hissing, striking snakes. She woke, screaming and gasping, but still tied up. It wasn’t until she’d caught her breath and come back down to earth that she realized her hair was gone.

Her hair was gone.
All but a quarter inch he’d left all around. As her vision focused, he’d shown her the razor he’d use to finish the job, to make her smoothly bald. But now he was... playing with her hair.

Jenna watched as Josh laid her hair out on his worktable and braided it. Almost lovingly.

“Why, Josh?” she asked from the floor, trying to sound as teacherlike, as authoritarian as she was able. “Why do you take our hair?”

Josh looked over and shrugged. “It’s a little embarrassing, actually. Kind of a Freudian thing.”

Jenna had to fight not to show the revulsion she felt. “You like your mother’s hair?”

“Oh, yes. My mother has absolutely beautiful hair. I’ve heard my father tell her that it’s her best feature. She used to brush it every night. One hundred strokes.” He ran his hand over the braid he’d created from Jenna’s hair. “I used to love to watch her braid her hair. That’s what I first liked about you, in fact. Your hair. I wished I could braid it, sitting there in your class. I’d planned to brush it and braid it when I finally got you.”

“When you finally got me,” Jenna repeated. “But now you’ve got me and you cut my hair.”

He frowned at her. “That’s your doing, not mine. I’d planned to take you away after graduation, to make you happy. You’d earned it. You weren’t like the others. But then you spent the night with Thatcher,” he said bitterly, “and I knew you were no better than any of these others, willing to crawl into a car with a man they barely know. So you lose your hair, Miss Marshall. Just like you’ll lose your life.” He took Jenna’s braid and mounted it under her picture. “There. But I get ahead of myself. I’m not supposed to mount the hair until I’ve finished and I’m behind schedule.” He turned with a grin. “It’s Friday night, Miss Marshall. Time for a show.”

T
HIRTY
-
FIVE

Saturday, October 15, 1:00
A.M.

S
TEVEN ANSWERED THE PHONE ON THE
first ring. “Thatcher.”

“It’s Harry.”

“Where are you?”

“In Pembroke, Virginia. The widow of George Richards is here, visiting her sister. It took me all day to track her down, but when I did I had her go through yearbooks from every high school in the county. I didn’t want anyone saying we directed Mrs. Richards unfairly.”

“And? Dammit, Harry,
tell me
.”

“She identified Josh Lutz as the boy who used to help her husband chop wood and do errands a few years back. It was some program for troubled kids. You know, back to nature, fresh air. Mrs. Richards said Josh seemed harmless as a lamb, except when it was slaughter-time. Then he seemed to enjoy his job a little too much. Her husband let him go. Josh’s mother even came to ask Richards to give him another chance, but the old man was firm.”

“So that’s how he got the ketamine. Well, that explains a lot.”

“There’s more. Mrs. Richards said her husband had a woodworking shop in a barn on the farm.”

Steven’s knees went weak and he sat down. Sawdust.
Jenna.
“Where? Exactly where, Harry?” He listened, memorized the location. Then ran from the house, dialing for backup.

Saturday, October 15, 1:30
A.M.

Jenna swallowed back terror as Josh placed an assortment of very large carving tools on the table where he’d tied Kelly. From across the barn Jenna could see Kelly struggle, although the girl’s movements were pathetically weak.

He was going to kill her now, kill Kelly.
I need to get him away from Kelly.

Stall,
she thought,
do anything
. Sooner or later the police would come looking for her. Steven would find her. Jenna wanted to cry, just thinking Steven’s name, but she knew she needed to keep her voice firm. She pulled on her teacher’s cloak of authority. “So help me understand, Josh. You had nothing to do with the vandalism in my class, or the dead possum.”

Josh rolled his eyes. “Really, Miss Marshall. That possum was a roadkill one of my brother’s friends found on the road. They’re bullies, not sadists.” He held up a curved knife so that she could see it. “Nice, isn’t it? It’s always rewarding to work with quality tools. Old Mr. Richards always had great taste in tools. Now I, on the other hand, am a sadist. If I’d wanted to leave you a gift, it wouldn’t have been a roadkill.” He smiled mockingly. “Roadkill’s so off-the-shelf. I do made-to-order. Rudy’s friends have no style. They haven’t a shred of creativity.”

“But you do,” she said archly.

“I do,” he answered. “Watch and learn, Miss Marshall.” He pulled out a laminated page covered with a design she’d never seen before. “My old school. Fond memories.” He looked over and winked. “Figured out I needed to laminate it after the first time. It was all covered in blood.” He pulled out a smaller syringe and a bottle of something dark blue. “Art class, creativity at its most enjoyable. Today, Miss Marshall, I’ll teach you the art of tattooing. Got this idea from Lorraine. She had a peace symbol tattooed to her ass. Such poor quality workmanship.”

“And you can do better.”

He shook the bottle and chose a needle. “Oh, yes. I find there’s very, very little I cannot do.”

The sight of the needle made her stomach roil and Jenna desperately scrambled for another distraction. “Why cheerleaders, Josh?”

Josh smiled easily as he measured and mixed the dark blue fluid. “Oh, I guess I could have picked anybody, but picking from cheerleaders helped narrow the pool to the prettiest of the girls from the get-go. No sense in picking an ugly girl when the pretty ones are so eager to please.”

Jenna wiggled her feet in the ropes. “But how did you get them to go with
you
?” she asked, then too late realized she shouldn’t have. The blatant disbelief in her voice was a slap at his ego.

His cheeks went brick red and his fingers tightened on the bottle. “Be quiet, Miss Marshall.”

She knew she’d succeeded in rattling him and, glancing over at the knives next to Kelly, realized rattling him further was the best strategy to delay his hand.
But you could make it worse,
she thought, then thought of the third missing girl and Steven’s ravaged face. It had been the worst crime scene of his career. That’s what Josh Lutz was capable of. So anything she did couldn’t make anything worse. Faster, maybe. But not worse.

“They wouldn’t go with you, would they?” she asked. “So how did you make them meet you in the middle of the night? I doubt it was on the force of your winning personality.”

Josh’s jaw clenched. “For a woman claiming an advanced degree, you are very foolish.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” she said evenly. “What do I have to lose?”

A scowl furrowed his forehead, then smoothed. “Sensible, actually.”

He’d calmed. She needed to stir him up again. “You lied to them, didn’t you?”

He drew dye into the syringe. “I told them what they wanted to hear,” he said reasonably. “They all wanted to date a popular jock. It was pathetically easy.” He picked up the needle.

Jenna’s gut churned.
Stall
. “You told them you were Rudy,” she said, keeping her voice steady.

Josh huffed an impatient sigh. “Of course I did. Now be quiet. I want this tattoo perfect.”

Jenna searched her brain again. “So you failed in your initial synthesis of ketamine,” she blurted and watched his hand wobble, then steady.

“No,” he said carefully. “I quickly realized I needed a lab more well equipped than my own.”

“That’s what I figured. That’s what I told the police. I told them you were incapable of synthesizing ketamine all by yourself, that it was beyond the limits of your intellect.”

His hand clenched around the syringe and a few drops of blue dye spilled on the table. “I said, my laboratory was insufficient,” he gritted.

“You couldn’t have done it even if you had a well-stocked lab. You’re not trained to do so. I, on the other hand, am trained to do so. You overrate your own skill.”

He turned and she could see his eyes glittering. “Be quiet, Miss Marshall.”

“It’s Dr. Marshall,” she said crisply and watched him flinch. “It’s
Dr
. because I earned my degree. Which makes me a great deal smarter than you. So did you steal it?” she asked, pressing forward, now that she had him off-kilter. Anything to keep him from touching Kelly. Even if he turned the syringe and carving tools on her. “Did you resort to common theft to get the ketamine?”

“No. Now be quiet or I’ll tape your damn mouth shut.” He bent down over Kelly’s head, the syringe once again steady in his hand, and Jenna worked her ankles in the knotted rope, loosening the knot with every movement.

“What about Seattle, Joshua?” she asked, grabbing for any detail. “Did you kill girls there?”

He jerked, his jaw clenched. “Shut. Up.” She saw blue ink spurt from the syringe, covering Kelly’s bald scalp. With a curse Josh wiped the ink from Kelly’s head and threw the towel in a trash can. “Now look what you’ve made me do,” he snarled, then visibly got hold of himself.

“Did you? Those four girls on the wall, are they the ones you killed in Seattle? You know that’s why Detective Davies is here, don’t you? He knows it’s you.” She wasn’t sure Neil knew any such thing, but prayed Neil and Steven would figure it out.

“Davies is another cop that can’t tell his ass from a hole in the wall,” he gritted. “Davies thinks Rudy is the killer,” Josh continued, his voice laced with sarcasm. “I even gave him Rudy on a silver platter back in Seattle, but Davies screwed it up. Mishandled evidence. And Rudy went free.”

“So Rudy was innocent the whole time.”

Josh laughed, tapping the bubbles from the syringe. “Rudy is incapable of the thought required to be a killer. Rudy is good for one thing only. Football. And thanks to you he doesn’t even have that.” He looked up, one brow cocked. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

She’d actually opened her mouth to say “you’re welcome,” but said instead, “You hate Rudy.”

“And you have a Ph.D.,” Josh drawled. “Of course I hate Rudy. Everybody hates Rudy.”

“Not true,” Jenna corrected and saw his spine snap. “Everyone likes Rudy. Especially girls.”

“Stupid whores. All of ’em,” Josh muttered. “Shut up and let me work.”

“Davies had a semen sample on the Seattle killer. If Davies thought Rudy was the killer, it must have been Rudy’s. Now that took work—making it look like it was his when it was yours.”

Josh looked across the barn with narrowed eyes. “If you want to know how I killed those girls and made it look like Rudy did it, just ask.”

“So how did you, Joshua?” Jenna asked, making him scowl. He didn’t like to be called Joshua. “How did Rudy’s semen get in your murder victim?”

“The old-fashioned way,” Josh snarled. “He fucked her.” “And you wanted to,” Jenna guessed, “but she liked Rudy better.”

“She was mine,” he said coldly. “He stole her from me.” “So you killed her.”

“Oh, yes.”

“And the second? What about her? Was she Rudy’s girl also?”

Josh stopped, then looked up with an easy smile that chilled her more than the snarl. He was back in control. “Not bad, Miss Marshall. Got me to say a little more than I’d planned. Well, I’ll tell you how it was.” He put down the tattoo needle and picked up one of the large knives. “I killed the first one and didn’t really mean to. I wanted her and wanted her to want me, you know?”

Jenna swallowed and watched him walk around the table, deliberately, the knife clutched in his hand. So this would be it, she thought. Steven would find her stabbed, bald corpse, just like the others. But her feet were nearly free. A few more wiggles and she’d have worked a space big enough to slide her foot through. So she’d stall. For just a few more moments.

“But she didn’t want you,” she made herself answer. “She thought you weren’t as good as Rudy. You weren’t as handsome. Weren’t as smart.”

His step hitched and he stumbled, wincing, grabbing at his upper thigh. Jean-Luc had bitten him on the thigh. He resumed walking toward her, slowly but steadily. “I was smart,” he snarled, “right up until those doctors doped me up so I couldn’t think. I was smarter than all of them and they couldn’t stand that. They drugged me, every damn day, until I didn’t know who I was or what I was doing.”

“Until your IQ was eighty-five and they put you in special classes,” Jenna gibed. “That hurt.”

“What will hurt is when I cut you, like I cut all the others.” He grabbed her by the collar and pointed the knife at her throat. “I killed the first girl without meaning to. But you know what? I found out it was fun. It was damn exhilarating. It was pure pleasure.”

“It was control,” Jenna whispered, watching his eyes, inches from her own. They flickered. Then narrowed.

“It was control,” he repeated. “Maybe you did deserve that Ph.D. after all,” he mocked and pressed the knife closer. She wanted to swallow, but fought it. If she swallowed, the knife would cut deeper. “I missed out on killing you the first time, Miss Marshall. Now I have another chance and I intend to make the most of it.”

This is it. He’ll kill me. Then he’ll kill Kelly.
Her brain froze, then blessed anger surged, loosening her tongue.
No. I’m not ready to die yet.
“You won’t, Joshua. You can’t. I am your teacher. I am in charge here.”

His eyes flickered wildly. “You are not in charge. You’re tied up. I am in charge.”

She didn’t think then, just acted, planting both her feet against his gut and shoving.

Caught off guard he grunted and stumbled, giving her the precious seconds she needed to work her feet, loosening the knot the millimeter she needed. Then she slipped her foot free and kicked him with all her might.

Stunned, he staggered back and she kicked his thigh where he’d held it. Where her dog had bitten him in a frantic attempt to save her life. His cry of pain told her the kick had been well placed and she jumped from the table and ran. Ran toward the barn door, away from Kelly and prayed he’d follow her. She paused at the barn door, looked right, then left.

Then stopped as moonlight glinted off the shiny barrel of the gun pointed straight at her face.

Saturday, October 15, 2:15
A.M.

Steven stared at the small barn, seeing the muted light through the only window.
She was in there.
That’s where the bastard held her. If she was still alive.
Don’t even think that.

He pulled his weapon from his shoulder holster. “I know you want him to stand trial in Seattle, Davies, and so do I, but if I have to kill him to get Jenna away, I will.”

Davies drew his own weapon. “Understood.” Then his eyes narrowed and he pointed to the far corner of the barn. “Thatcher, look. She did know where he was. That bitch.”

Steven watched the slim shadow creeping toward the door, a grim satisfaction settling over him. “Harry said Nora asked the farmer to give Josh another chance. She must have known where this barn was all along.” Then the satisfaction evaporated when a loud crash came from the barn.