Mindfield (Sideways Eight Book 1) (29 page)

Charley whispered, “How does he know?”

“Char, you wear lace? Since when?”

“My panties. I special order them, Leavers lace.”

“This maniac knows what underwear you wear? Holy shit, that’s scary.” Murphy raked his hand through his hair. “I was right, Char, admit it.”

“He’s been digging into my life. It’s one thing to know who I am. It’s another to know what kinda panties I wear.”

“Now do you believe me, Char? We’re Siamese twins.”

Carmichael pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “Murph, what are you talking about?”

Murphy patted his chest. “Char’s life is in danger. I told her I’m on her like glue.”

Carmichael sighed. “Char, he has a point.”

Charley ignored his statement. “Anything else, Ansel?”

“He didn’t mar the body. I’m not even sure how he imprisoned her as he did the others. There’s no defensive wounds, no rope marks, nothing.”

“Sexual assault?” Murphy added.

“That was a shocker, considering what he did to the other eight victims. I expected a bloody mess, but not Hillary. No signs of sexual assault.”

“Why did his MO change?”

Charley displayed two fingers. “Two reasons. She’s too old, and she’s not a virgin. He has a penchant for young and intact. He can’t take something that isn’t there.”

“I remember you saying he has to possess them,” Murphy said.

“That’s right, Hillary is symbolic.”

“Because she’s you in his mind?” Carmichael added.

“No. Tangerine believed his victims not only deserved the barbaric things he did to them, they wanted it. His narcissistic mind convinced him they wanted to be possessed by him. He rationalizes being deflowered by him was an honor, a privilege.”

“Oh, please.” Carmichael rolled his eyes.

“How many times have you heard a guy say she hasn’t had a real man till she’s had me? I’ll give her the best.”

“A lot,” Murphy said. “Tangerine is depraved.”

“Yes, he is. The reason he used objects, he’s impotent, perpetual premature ejaculation or both.”

“Sucks to be him,” Carmichael said.

“Did the tox-screen show anything?” Murphy said.

“I did a full panel, and looked for the unusual ones, nothing showed.”

“Is it possible he used a natural ingredient that builds in the blood or dissipates in the system after a certain time?”

“Maybe, but we’ll never know. Hillary’s work-up was clean. It was hard enough trying to extract a smidgen of her blood from the paint injected into her body. I called the ME in Seattle to make sure I was doing it right.”

“I remember. He hangs them upside down and drains their blood.”

“Charley, I agree with Murph. It’s rather obvious who he killed… you.”

“Was he? I’m not so sure. This killing isn’t angry. It’s an announcement, a declaration. He wants me to respond, and I will.” She lowered her head. “This woman, Tangerine stalked her. He chose her based on my description. She died because of me.”

“Char, stop it. That’s what he wants. For you to feel guilty and responsible,” Carmichael said. “Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

“Hillary didn’t deserve this. She’s innocent.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not. I’ve done bad things.”

“In the name of justice,” Murphy said.

“I could’ve handled a few situations differently.”

Murphy squeezed her shoulders, turning her towards him with dire concern in his eyes. “Charley, this is dangerous.”

“I’m not scared.” She turned to Carmichael. “Anything else interesting?”

“Nothing. I’ll contact you if I do.”

“Okay, meanwhile I’ll burn all my expensive lace underwear. Find out what a landing strip is. I have a hunch it has nothing to do with an airport.”

Carmichael and Murphy smiled, raising their eyebrows.

Chapter 35

Before the Storm

Lorton, VA – Faraday Farms

Wednesday, 29 June - 12:17 PM

The two of them entered the farmhouse from the garage, and shuffled through the mudroom, heading to the kitchen. Desperate, Murphy continued his plea for her to reconsider his proposal to remain by her side until Charley would be free from danger.

“Be realistic about this.” He trailed after her as they went into the kitchen to decide on lunch.

“He won’t confront me.” Charley went straight for the refrigerator. She opened the stainless steel door and stared into the chilly abyss. “Damn, the reefer light blew.” She removed a container of tuna salad with red grapes, held it up for his approval. Murphy acknowledged. She grabbed a loaf of bread from the corner cabinet. “The concern is if Tangerine knows about my panties, he knows where I live.”

Murphy ran his hands through his hair. “You know what I’m gonna say.”

“You can’t stay here, I’m sorry.”

“Give me one good reason?”

“It isn’t necessary.”

“What do you think I’ll do to you, Charley?” Murphy opened the pantry door and removed a replacement bulb for the refrigerator from the shelf. “We’ve done this before, remember? The blood transfusion. I stayed with you for two days. No problem. How many times have we fell asleep on the sofa when we worked late?”

“It’s not the same, Sean.” Charley prepared the sandwiches.

“I refuse to walk away, leaving you vulnerable. I can’t.” He wrung his hands, pacing about the kitchen. “I can’t.”

“Tangerine won’t come near me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s not the way he does things. He doesn’t claim two victims in the same place, too risky. Which is why we haven’t caught him. He’s a hit-and-run type dude.”

Murphy removed the bulb from the packaging and tossed the wrapper into the trash. “Wait, you said he’s ready to die and now you’re saying he’s toying with you. Which is it?”

“Chalk it up to over exuberance. I want him so bad. To study him.” She waited for him to replace the bulb in the fridge and pointed at a carton of milk.

“You don’t want to kill him?” Murphy handed her the moo-juice, closed the door, and grabbed two glasses from the cabinet.

“His brain is priceless. He offers possible discoveries through interviews or brain scans giving us more information of how these networks of intricate corrupt synaptic mindfields work. Find out what makes him tick. I get excited and spit out words I shouldn’t. He must be captured alive.”

Murphy advanced towards her. Slow and direct, each step marked by the thump of his heel. “Well, sweetheart, the only way you’re gonna keep me outta your house is to shoot me.” He stepped back, pointing the open end of a glass in her direction. “Arm your weapon and fire, baby, because you will not be home alone and that’s final.”

“I’ve always liked a challenge. And you, Sean, are a challenge.” Charley snatched the glassware from his hands and set them onto the counter.

“I’m here to make you happy.”

“Provided I do as you say.” Charley chuckled, pouring milk into the tumblers.

“No, Char, it has nothing to do with control and demand.”

“Is that so?”

He carried the plates holding the sandwiches and motioned for her to join him at the bar. “Condescending tone isn’t allowed.”

“Your alpha male is strong today.”

“You wanna see strong?” He positioned his body in front of her, easing her against the counter. The glassware full of milk, he removed them from her hands and set them on the other side of the island. Murphy grasped the edges of the counter, leaning into her. “This is how it’s gonna be. Until I’m convinced you’re safe, I’ll be here with you. There will be no protesting, no argument.”

“Sean, it isn’t necessary.” Her eyes fixed on his. “He kills during a major holiday. The next one isn’t until Labor Day. If he returns that’s when it will happen. Until then he won’t strike. It’s against everything he has ever done.”

“I don’t like this. Tangerine is a part of you. He’s inside you. I don’t want him there.” His fingers tightened on the counter as he pressed further into her.

“Tangerine cannot survive without me. He feeds off me.”

“He owns you, Char. No one should own you but…”

“But what?”

“Uhm… but you. Tangerine is a parasite, but you feed from each other. Your survival depends on it.”

“You’re giving him way too much credit.”

He flipped her nose with his finger. “I’m staying… with you.”

Charley trembled.

“Are you afraid of me?”

She swallowed deep as her eyes searched his. Her voice was soft and weak, “No.”

“You’re shaking.” He stepped back. “I frightened you.”

Charley rubbed her arms. “You didn’t frighten me.”

“I’m sorry, Char, but I have to do this.”

“Let me consider it.”

“Think all you want, Char. I’ve decided.” His shrug, a cue his decision wouldn’t change. He stepped back, grabbed the glasses, and placed them next to the plates. “One thing’s for sure, he’s right on schedule. Fourth of July weekend is coming.”

“He’s seasonal, near a major holiday.” She sat at the bar, bowing her head. “Why my panties?”

Murphy took a drink. “It’s a significant detail, Charley. He’s targeting an intimate garment.”

“He has never left a calling card.”

“The poem, what does it mean?”

Charley took a bite of her sandwich. “I’m not sure.”

“Is it okay for me to check out a pair of your panties?”

“Uhm… okay.” She motioned for him to follow her.

Charley led him into her bedroom to the chest of drawers. She pulled out a pair of her Leavers lace panties and dropped them into his hand.

“They’re all lace, not just the trim.” He glanced at her. “These are pretty and lace is rough and stiff, these aren’t.”

“Now you’ve seen them.” She turned to leave the room, stopped, turning to face him. “Sean, how does he know what type of panties I wear? Has he been in my house? I don’t see how that’s possible. I review the feeds every day. My security hasn’t been compromised.”

Murphy inspected the fine detail of the lace. “Good question. Let’s explore.”

“Where do we start?”

He examined the fine mesh. “These are expensive, but they aren’t durable. Do you throw them away?”

“Yes, after I receive a new shipment.”

“How often is that?”

“Every three months or so. It depends. These aren’t the only ones I wear. I wear others.”

He coiled the garment into his hand. “How about billing, paying for them?”

“I order them online.”

“What about packaging, packing slips, you toss them, right?”

“Yes.”

“It’s possible he went through your trash on pick-up day.”

“Why my panties? Why not something else?”

“Panties are personal. He believes this is sensitive for you.”

“How? How would he know my sensitivities? They’re underwear. I don’t understand the big deal.”

“Not sure, Char. It’s not as if you’re a serial dater. It doesn’t take long to learn that. In the last couple of years, you could’ve spoken with him. He may have asked you to dinner, you declined. Maybe he offended you, and you said something that gave him the ammo he needed.”

“What… I met him in the produce section at the grocery store?”

“Why not?”

“That has happened, but I ignored it.” Frustrated, she returned to her lunch.

He tossed the garment on top of the chest before leaving the room to join her. He sat next to her, clamped the sandwich in his hands filling his mouth with tuna. After swallowing his food, he continued. “Seriously, Char, I’m concerned about this guy and your safety. He knows too much.”

“I agree.”

“Hillary, he didn’t place her in a provocative pose.”

“That’s another thing.” Charley rubbed her jaw. “I say I’m not the target. I’m supposed to know the target.”

“You think so. I don’t.”

“What’s your theory?”

“The panties are the key. I’m telling you, Char, it’s a man thing. Let me explain. There’s something sexy and provocative about a beautiful woman in sensuous undergarments. It turns us on quicker than if she was naked.”

“Every time you see a woman in her bra and panties on a television commercial it’s an instant erection? How do men survive the beach?”

“Not the same.”

“How? A two-piece swimsuit is nothing more than a bra and panties, please explain.”

“Sure, we ogle and drool at the beach. It’s normal. The woman we love, it’s different.” Murphy pointed across the kitchen at the trash compacter. “That’s how he knows.”

Charley gazed at the counter. “Makes sense.”

“Remember, Carmichael said Tangerine used lavender body wash to bathe Hillary. Your scent.”

“Explain how he would know?”

“The trash or he’s been near you.” Murphy eyes widened, he grabbed her shoulder. “Char, Breckenridge. Could he have been Tangerine?”

Charley shook her head. “No, he said I ruined his life. I haven’t affected Tangerine’s. Not yet anyway.”

“We have provocative lace panties, and lavender body wash, definite sexual undertones.”

“Outside his methods, something changed.”

“Whether you want to admit it or not, he’s still a man.”

“I’m aware.” Charley lowered her head. “Panties, poem, panties, poem, tick, tick, tick.”

“I don’t see what the two have in common.”

“Me either. Somehow, they complement each other.”

“They symbolize something.” Murphy chugged his milk.

Charley tapped her finger on the counter. “Possible. The key is in the poem.”

“Nope, it’s all about the panties. Trust me.”

“Panties, poem,” she said, “tick, tick, tick. A clock. Somehow a clock figures into this.”

“It’s time, not a clock,” he said, chomping on his sandwich.

“Why?”

“He wants to take your time.” His index finger pointed at her. “Meaning, your life.”

Charley shook her head hard. “No.”

Murphy cleared his throat. “Where am I sleeping tonight?”

“Guestroom, upstairs.”

“Too far away,” he said, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

“Take it or leave it.” Charley pushed her empty plate away. She slumped over and placed her forehead on the counter. With her fist, she pounded the surface. “Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

“You trust me.” He tousled her hair. “You make the best tuna sandwiches. Uhm, mmm.”