Her Dying Breath (16 page)

“I’d like to see you again,” Ron said. “That is, if you’re interested.”

She should be.

So why wasn’t she?

Logic warred with her instinct. She didn’t trust Ron’s motives, or believe that he could be faithful.

But he had connections, and with the election coming up in the fall, she couldn’t afford to burn any bridges. She might be assigned to cover the race.

“Sure—just give me a call when you’re back in town.”

He nodded, and Brenda reached for the door. He caught her arm and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I really enjoyed our conversation.”

Brenda murmured agreement, then rushed outside. But all she could think about when she drove away was that she wished that kiss had been from Nick.

Fat chance of that.

She waited until she was in her condo to phone Nick. It was nearly midnight, and she hesitated, thinking he might be asleep. But she needed to talk to him about this limerick, and he would want her to call him, so she picked up the phone.

To her surprise, he answered on the first ring. “Brenda?”

“Yes,” she said, hating the way her voice suddenly sounded breathless. Damn her libido for thinking about kissing him earlier.

“What is it?” he asked gruffly.

No polite chitchat or flattery from this man. “I received another text.”

“From the killer?”

“She didn’t identify herself, but yes, it’s from her.”

“What does it say?”

Brenda read him the limerick.

“Fuck.”

“What?” Brenda asked. “Do you know who it is?”

“No, but it confirms that the sender is connected to my father.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because he received a similar rhyme the day Logger was murdered. He showed it to me when I visited him in prison.”

Brenda walked to the window, eased the curtains back, and looked out. The street was normally quiet this time of night, another reason she’d chosen the development, but tonight it seemed desolate and eerie, offering a million places for a predator to hide.

Had that dark car been parked at the curb when she’d arrived home? Had she seen it before?

A tingle traveled up her spine. Was she being paranoid, or was someone watching her?

“Did the message say anything else?” Nick asked.

“No.” Brenda did not want to share the previous text.

Tension stretched between them for several seconds before Nick replied, “It must be from one of the subjects in the experiment.”

Brenda massaged her temple, where a headache pulsed. “The line that she’d died and died and died, do you think that’s literal?”

“It’s possible,” Nick said. “It fits the MO. Logger was repeatedly strangled and brought back to life. Maybe the same thing happened to her.”

A sick feeling swept over Brenda. “God, Nick, how could anyone be so cruel? And what was the purpose of repeatedly murdering him?”

“You mean other than giving the depraved killer pleasure?”

Brenda’s stomach twisted. “What kind of person takes pleasure in watching someone else die?”

“A sociopath.” Nick muttered something else low under his breath. Something that sounded like he understood, that he would enjoy watching his father die.

“Nick—”

“She commented that everyone thought she was insane,” Nick said, cutting her off. “Does that sound like anyone you know?”

An image of Sadie’s sister sprang to mind. “It sounds like Amelia.”

Nick cleared his throat. “Did you ever visit her at the sanitarium?”

Brenda began to sweat. “What? No. Why would you ask that?”

“Because this killer connected with you. Maybe you met her somewhere before.”

“She could have seen me on TV,” Brenda said. “Nick, do you think your father knows who she is?”

Nick’s tired sigh echoed back. “If he does, he sure as hell won’t tell me.”

“But he might talk to me,” Brenda said.

“I doubt it.”

“You have to let me try,” Brenda said. “Maybe he wants people to know his side, so he won’t look so bad. I could flatter his ego. Make him think I believe he was a genius, conducting cutting-edge experiments.”

“Sounds like you’ve already planned your angle.”

“You have to admit it might work,” Brenda said. “We all want the truth.”

Seconds passed. “I guess it’s worth a shot,” Nick said. “I’ll set up a meeting asap. But the fact that the unsub contacted you tonight has me worried. What if she’s killed again?”

Brenda studied the car down the street again. “The message doesn’t say anything about a body.”

“That doesn’t mean there isn’t one,” Nick said. “She might just be toying with you, with us.”

Brenda didn’t like the sound of that.

She closed her eyes, willing images of the week she’d spent at the sanitarium to return. For so long she’d tried to forget those horrible few days.

The cries and screams from the patients in the other wards. Grace Granger’s incoherent screeching from the bed where they’d chained her to the wall. The hushed whispers and evil glares from the orderlies who’d muscled the patients into their restraints.

The time she’d wandered too close to the ward where she’d seen them take Amelia…

There had been others down that hall. Maybe a boy…another girl…

What had they been doing to the patients in those rooms?

She strained her memory banks, searching for details of their faces, but they were clouded by the terror that seized her when the orderly dragged her back to her room.

He warned her that bad things would happen to her if she went too far.

She’d never gone down that hall again.

Now she wished she had.

Then she might know the killer. And she might be able to stop her, before she took another life.

The room was closing in, the dark terrors coming again as night swallowed the mountains.

Seven rubbed her hands up and down her arms, desperate to chase away the chill. But the sliver of moon that seeped through the storm clouds outside looked exactly like the curve of the Commander’s chin.

And the glittering stars—they started the patterns in her head.

She saw the patterns in everything. In steps. In buildings. In the cracks in the sidewalks. In mountain ridges. In the lines on a person’s face.

In her dreams.

In the sky.

She counted the clusters of stars. Three here. Five there.

No…seven was the number.

The number echoed over and over in her head. She began to pace out the steps, just as she’d been trained. Never three, never four or five or six.

Seven.

Always seven.

Seven paces to the right

Seven paces forward

Seven paces back

Seven to the right again

A perfect square of seven

“It’s time,” the Commander’s deep voice said as she fell backward into the endless tunnel. Back into the sea of monsters.

The orderly shoved her into the cold, dark room. The chill of death and the screams of the others started again.

Then everything disappeared except the fear.

And she began to pace the steps in her hole.

Seven is my number

Seven is my name

Seven is the size of my box

When we play our game

Seven times I strangle them

Seven times they’ll cry

Then it will be the Commander’s turn

Seven times he’ll die

N
ick paced his den, willing Brenda to come clean with him about her time at the sanitarium. He couldn’t ask her, or she’d know he was snooping around in her past.

“I’ll talk to Amelia tomorrow,” he said. “Then work out a visit for you with my father. That is, if he agrees to see you.”

“He’ll agree,” Brenda said. “His ego won’t allow him to resist bragging to me.”

“Sounds like you know my father.”

“Just instinct, reading through the lines.”

Her instincts sounded on target to him. His father was a narcissistic egomaniac.

“I’m sorry, Nick. I know it must hurt, what he did. And having everyone know about it makes it worse.”

Nick stepped onto the back deck of the cabin for some fresh air. What was the saying—the sins of the father shall be visited upon the son a thousand times?

“Nick?”

“I’m here.”

“If you ever want to talk, I’m a good listener.”

Yeah, for a story. She wasn’t exactly trusting him with her own secrets.

“I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know about the interview.”

“Wait. Let me go with you to talk to Amelia.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“But I’ve established a relationship with her.” Brenda paused. “She’s lonely, Nick. She wants a friend, and I can be that friend.”

Maybe she was right. Amelia might tell a friend about her stay at Slaughter Creek Sanitarium. Especially if they’d met in the hospital.

“All right, but I’ll take the lead. You can’t say anything to upset her. Understand?”

“Perfectly.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“I’ll be ready.” Then she gave him her address.

He didn’t tell her that he already knew where she lived. That he’d done his homework.

Worry seeped into him. If he knew where she lived, the killer might know, too. Was she in danger?

“Brenda…lock your doors tonight.”

A soft sigh. “Don’t worry, Nick. I sleep with a pistol under my pillow.”

Did she have to put that erotic image in his head?

“I’m glad you warned me,” he said, then berated himself for the husky timbre of his voice as he imagined crawling in bed with her. Surely she couldn’t read his errant thoughts.

Her soft laugh indicated she had. “Good night, Nick.”

He steeled himself, forcing his mind back to his father. That reminder destroyed any sexual fantasies.

“Good night,” he said gruffly.

He hung up, then punched Jake’s number. His brother answered on the third ring, his voice thick with sleep. “Nick?”

“Sorry, I woke you,” Nick said, knowing Jake and Sadie were probably cuddled up, all cozy, in mad love. “Brenda received another message from the unsub.”

Nick heard sheets rustling and knew his brother was getting out of bed. “What did it say?” Jake asked.

Nick recited the rhyme.

“Nothing specific about a crime or another body?”

“No.” Not yet. “I’d like to talk to Amelia again, Jake.”

A hesitation. “I don’t know what good that will do. Besides, Sadie is guarding her like a dog.”

“I’m not going to accuse her of anything. But she might know the killer.”

“You have a point,” Jake said, his voice worried. “I’ll meet you at her condo in the morning.”

“Okay, but I’ll warn you. Brenda’s coming with me.”

A litany of curse words rolled off Jake’s tongue. “Why the hell are you letting her tag along?”

Nick watched a deer roaming through the woods behind his house. He remained perfectly still, aware that the slightest movement would startle the skittish animal, and it would disappear.

Amelia reminded him of that deer.

“Nick?” Jake said, his voice rising an octave. “What are you doing?”

“I have my reasons,” Nick said, deciding not to expose Brenda’s secret just yet. Why, he didn’t know.

But it just seemed wrong.

Still, if he discovered it had any relation to the case, he would tell his brother.

And it would be very informative if Amelia recognized Brenda from the hospital. “Just trust me.”

“All right, Nick,” Jake said. “Meanwhile, I’ll be on the lookout for murder reports coming through, just in case our strangler struck again.”

Nick would do the same. There was no
if
in his mind.

This unsub would strike again. In fact, he had a bad feeling she already had.