Killer Within (6 page)

Chapter
Twelve

THE NEXT AFTERNOON I USE
the school’s computer to log on to “my” site. I reregister, scroll the posts, find j_d_l, and see that he is online. My heart kicks in a beat as I instant message him the same thing I had before:

ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO PLAY?

WHO IS THIS?
he messages back.

I THINK YOU KNOW WHO . . .

I TRIED TO IM YOU LAST NIGHT BUT IT SAID YOUR ACCT WAS TAKEN DOWN . . . ??? I THINK YOU’RE MISUNDERSTOOD. I THINK U NEED A FRIEND.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I’m not getting chatty with this guy.
PLAY OR NOT?

He doesn’t immediately respond, then:
PLAY
.

I smile.
GOOD. I’LL LEAVE AN ENVELOPE FOR YOU IN THE TRASH IN FRONT OF CVS, CORNER OF HAYCOCK AND RTE 7, FALLS CHURCH. PICK IT UP AT 8 PM.
I sign off.

Bucky works at the same CVS. Tonight I’ll find out if he and j_d_l are connected. And if the task force just monitored that message, they’ll probably be there too. I’ll have to be extra cautious, extra alert.

At seven forty-five I’m in my Jeep in the CVS parking lot. There are many stores in this strip mall, many cars, so mine blends in just fine. I don’t see any cop cars. Then again if the task force
is
here, they’re probably undercover.

I eye the garbage can right in front of CVS. The garbage I’ve put nothing in. I just want to see who approaches it.

7:50. I get my iPhone ready to snap a few pictures.

7:55. Someone comes out of CVS and someone else goes in.

8:00. An elderly lady throws away a bag of McDonald’s.

8:05. A man dressed in a business suit puts his cigarette out in the top tray.

8:10. I glance around the parking lot. What is j_d_l’s game? If he was indeed following me the night I did Aisha, I was in Victor’s car. If he was following me the night I almost did Jacks, I was in my Jeep. That night I went out to “CVS” a dark car was following me. Then there’s the dark BMW that
was outside my grief group with a woman behind the wheel. The first dark car could have very well been a BMW. Or maybe the whole thing is just a coincidence.

The thing is—I don’t believe in coincidences.

The one thing I do know for certain is that Aisha is now out of the equation because she is in jail.

8:15. A young boy hesitantly approaches the garbage can. He looks around, lifts the lid, and peers inside. He moves things, looks over his shoulder, and then puts the lid back on.

I follow the direction of his look but don’t see anything notable. Just cars and people trickling in and out of stores.

The boy walks away in the opposite direction from which he approached, and I fight every urge in me to follow. That boy’s a decoy and j_d_l is somewhere watching. I know it.

Sneaky bastard.

He’s good at playing my game.

Or maybe that was the task force using a lure.

Either way, I sit right where I’m at, watching cars come and go from the many entrances in and out of the strip mall. Most of them are dark cars. None of them are BMWs.

Bucky emerges from CVS. He doesn’t even glance at the garbage can, but he stands for a second and just looks around. His eyes go right over my Jeep before turning away. He walks the length of the shopping center, and I wait until he’s all the way down past the grocery store before pulling out.

Several other cars pull out too, all going in different directions.

Slowly I crawl along, keeping track of him as he hangs a right and starts walking along the shadowed sidewalk. The trail my brother mentioned is just a few blocks ahead, and I’d bet anything that’s where he’s headed.

That trails leads all the way back to the neighborhood where he resides. Which means I’m going to have to park and follow on foot.

In my Jeep I pass him with a glance in the rearview mirror. I don’t see one single headlight. No one is following me. I drive beyond the trail’s head and park along the street next to a condo building.

As I double-check my supplies, I keep an eye on the sidewalk, waiting for Bucky’s appearance.

I survey the area around me again and still see nothing out of the ordinary. Just a dark street and a sprinkling of houses. No one has followed me. I’m certain I’m alone.

Bucky comes up the sidewalk and cuts a right onto the trail.

Silently I climb from my Jeep, and as I follow behind, I lower my mask over my head.

This section of the trail is skinny and bordered by woods on both sides. It’s perfect for what I have in store.

Bucky’s phone rings, and while he answers, I tune in to my
surroundings one last time. Cold night. The scent of a fireplace in the air. A dog barking way in the distance. Nobody out. Except me and Bucky.

My lips curve. I’ve got this guy all to myself.

One must control animal instincts, not stimulate them.
I don’t suppose my aikido sensei would agree with what I’m about to do.

I don’t pull my Taser out. I want hand-to-hand with this guy. I need it. “Bucky,” I whisper.

He turns.

I go right at it, slamming the heel of my hand into his nose, just like I did Aisha. Blood spurts and I smile.

“What the . . . ?” He stumbles back.

I grab the front of his jacket and knee him in the balls.

He goes down coughing and hacking.

I rear back and kick him in the ribs.

He coughs some more and throws a missed punch in my direction.

I nail him in the eye.

On his butt, he scoots away, blood and saliva driveling from his mouth.

I don’t give him a second to retaliate as I whack the blade of my hand into the side of his neck.

He gurgles. “Fuck . . .”

I grab his head and slam it into the ground. “I hate that word.”

Bucky holds his hands up. “Stop!”

I look into his eyes. Really look. And see fear there.
That
is the exact look I’m waiting for. I grab a handful of dirt and rub it into his face, and while he spurts, I yank a zip tie around his wrists and take a step back.

Breathing heavily, I look down at his pathetic body and remember him shoving me up against my Jeep. Dickweed. I also remember the first couple of people I took down and the mistakes I made. Look at me now, standing here unharmed. It’s too awesome. I raise my Taser.

“Don’t!” he screams, and my blood thumps. “God! What do you want? My wallet’s in my back pocket.”

I lower my voice and ask, “Are you JDL?”

“What? Shit. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Who did the prostitute and the homeless boy? Who did Jacks?”

“What?” He tries to scoot away again. “I didn’t do anything to anybody.”

I kneel down and shove the Taser right in his face.

“Wait,” he pleads. “What do you want? I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Did Aisha do them?”

“Aisha?” He coughs. “She’s in jail!”

I know that, you idiot.
“What do you know about the Masked Savior?”

He starts to cry. Unbelievable. Not so tough now.

“I’ve been on the site,” he blubbers. “I’ve posted a few things. But I promise I haven’t done anything wrong. I promise.”

“Have you been following me?”

“No,” he whimpers.

The smell of urine permeates the air, and I don’t even glance down to verify he’s peed himself. This guy doesn’t know anything. He’s scared shitless. Or rather, pissless.

“You will stop everything you are doing,” I tell him. “Masked Savior website,
drugs
to kids.” His eyes widen, and I think of how scared Justin was to tell me about this guy. I grab his throat and squeeze, and he sucks in a raspy breath. “Oh, yeah, I know all about the drugs.”

I release him and stand back up. “We clear?”

“Yes! Please, just don’t hurt me anymore.”

“If I hear your name again, I will find you and I will do so much more.” I turn away from him and disappear back down the trail. Sure, I left him zip-tied, but he can still get up and walk home. Or crawl for all I care.

After tonight Justin won’t have to be scared again. Because I meant what I said. If I hear Bucky’s name one more time, I will do so much more to that asswipe.

When I get back to my Jeep, I stow my mask and drive off. If this guy knew anything about j_d_l, he would’ve squealed. Bucky’s not my copycat. I saw the truth in his face.

Despite what the task force may or may not think, the fact is—as I’ve already surmised—until another victim shows up, I won’t know for sure if Aisha was or was not my impersonator.

As of right now I still think she may have been.

Chapter
Thirteen

“THERE’S SOMETHING IN ME THAT
needs out,” I tell everyone. “It craves release. Sometimes I feel I might explode if I don’t give in to it. Yet sometimes I do give in to it, and it’s . . . euphoric.”
Orgasmic
is what I want to say but figure that’s crossing a grief group’s line.

Silence reverberates in the already quiet room.

I swallow and sweep my steady gaze over the others. They all look back at me with a mixture of understanding, confusion, and awe.

The counselor steeples his clasped hands. “What a breakthrough you’ve had, Lane.”

I feel it too. It’s the first time I’ve freely spoken in group. Perhaps I’m more comfortable in my thoughts now. Or maybe
it’s the fact I beat the shit out of Bucky and finally got some relief.

There’s more silence, then the counselor trains his gentle eyes on everyone else. “Anyone want to reply to that?”

No one responds. The counselor says a few closing remarks and we are all out the door.

At the Jeep, Tommy strolls over. “Let’s get out of here.”

I look at his motorcycle. “On that?”

“Yes.”

I’ve never been on a bike. After spilling my guts in grief group, it seems a bike ride might just be a good ending to this evening. Perhaps that’s why Tommy invited me. He knows. He can relate.

I stow my Jeep key. “Okay, let’s go.”

I climb on the back. He offers me a spare helmet and I fit it on. He swings his long leg over the front and revs the engine. It vibrates through my legs, across my stomach, over my breasts, and straight back down to my core.

“Hang on,” he throws over his shoulder.

I snake my arms under his leather jacket and around his warm, T-shirt-covered stomach a second before he roars away. I scoot forward a little bit until my front is completely merged with his back. It’s cold, but not freezing, as we zip the back roads to Great Falls Park.

We don’t stop and just keep going, rolling the hills of
Virginia, up and down and switching right and left. I tilt my head back and gaze up at a clear, star-filled sky. I breathe out a long breath and watch it instantaneously crystallize and then whip away in the wind.

We keep going, and at some point I’m sure we have to be in another state, but we’re only in Vienna. I bring my focus back down and look to the right at the sprawling mansions twinkling in the winter darkness. What are the people doing inside those pretty places? Are they happy, content, fighting, grieving . . . ?

We come to a stop, he hangs a left on Chain Bridge, and I realize we’re heading back already. I want to ask him to keep going but don’t. Hopefully, he’ll ask me to do this again. Hopefully.

We go through Tysons Corner and straight back to downtown McLean, where my Jeep is parked.

Tommy pulls up behind my Wrangler and leaves his engine vibrating. I unsnake my arms from his stomach, slowly climb off, and stand for a second while my legs continue to pulse.

Tommy gives me a once-over. “Good?”

I hand him the helmet. “More than good.” God, I might just trade my Jeep in for a motorcycle. How stimulating. Freeing. And intoxicating.

“If you ever want to do it again, I hang out mostly at Tysons.” With that he drives off.

I watch him leave, filled, oddly enough, with the overwhelming urge to ask him to come back.

I want to do that again.

As I unlock my Jeep, something in my peripheral vision has me glancing up to see a person standing on the other side of the street, about a block down, staring at me. A man or a woman, I can’t tell in the nighttime shadows, but just as quickly as the person is there, he or she is gone.

Chapter
Fourteen

THAT PERSON IS ALL I
can think about the next day. Though I question myself if I really saw someone. I mean, a person doesn’t just disappear. Granted there was an alley nearby he or she could’ve gone down. But it really did seem like they just vanished. My brain has got to be playing tricks on me. People don’t just vanish. I walked up and down the street afterward, looking for the phantom person and not seeing him.

I don’t know. I just don’t know. Could it have been j_d_l?

“Remember that situation I was telling you about?” Kyle asks me, and I glance up from my lunch. “Bucky?” he reminds me.

“Yeah.”

“Somebody really roughed him up.”

I eat a fry. “You don’t say.”

Kyle’s eyes narrow, just a fraction. “Did you already know that?”

“Nope.”

He doesn’t immediately respond, then he lowers his voice and says, “I wish I would’ve been the one to do it.”

I’ve never heard Kyle talk that way before. I take a big gulp of water and wait for whatever he wants to say next.

Instead he takes a step back. “Well, then, see you around.”

“Yeah, see you around.”

I watch Kyle walk away, feeling for the first time ever something
off
about him.

After school Justin makes sure Daisy is busy on her phone and whispers to me, “Bucky got beat up.”

I whisper back, “Mean people deserve that.”

His hazel eyes do that wide, innocent thing. “Annie said her brother isn’t going to be living with them anymore.”

“That’s good.”

“I told my teacher about the drugs.”

I smile at him. “I’m proud of you, Justin. I know that was scary.”

“My teacher said Bucky’s going to be in a lot of trouble with the police.”

“Yes, he will. Especially if you encourage all your friends to speak up too.”

“We did.”

I shift gears and pull onto Route 7 as Daisy keeps talking on her phone and Justin goes to looking out the window.

“Did the Masked Savior do it?” he asks a couple minutes later.

“I don’t know.”

“Lane, I think I might be scared of the Masked Savior.”

I snap my gaze over to him. “
What?
Why?”

“He used to be cool, but I heard he beat up some people who didn’t deserve it. That doesn’t sound right to me.”

I come to a stop at a red light as guilt nestles itself in. The last thing I would
ever
desire to do is scare my little brother. “Justin, listen to me. You can’t believe everything you hear. Rumors are just that. Gossip. Plus, this Savior person only targets bad people and definitely not kids. You’re not bad. You shouldn’t be scared.”

Justin doesn’t say anything else and goes back to staring out the window. I shoot him a worried glance, trying to figure out if I should say something but not really knowing what.

We get home a few minutes later, and Victor announces, “Gramps is coming to visit!”

This elicits a grin from Daisy, a hoot from Justin, and a deadpan expression from me. Let’s just say Gramps, Victor’s father, has never been my favorite. . . .

“Son, I’m telling you. There’s just something off with Lane,” I overhear Gramps say to Victor.

“She’s fine. She’s different, that’s all,” he defends me. . . .

“When’s he coming?” I ask.

Victor’s face brightens. “Tomorrow!”

My brother and sister explode with enthusiasm.

“For how long?” I ask next.

“A
whole
week!”

This is
so
not what I need right now.