Monster (15 page)

-Annie-

I didn't know how long I'd been in the trunk, but suddenly the driver tapped on the brakes and I was slammed against the front.

Fuck. That hurt.

It hadn't been that long, but it was already getting hot in the confines of the miserable little space I was in. I couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything but the engine. Was I going to die of dehydration after all?

No.

He was taking me away from my house. He didn't always do that. He must have a plan.

I'm sure I wouldn't like his plan, but whatever he did to me, I had to take it.

I could stand it.

To get him caught, I could stand anything.

If I could have talked, if I weren't gagged, I would have been chanting Quinn's name over and over like a prayer.

The car stopped.

The engine cut off.

I waited for the killer to come get me.

Nothing happened.

I waited there in the darkness for a count of one one thousand. Two one thousand. Up through three hundred one thousand.

Nothing happened.

I recited half-remembered poems.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood. It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea. You are a child of the universe.

When I got to
do not go gentle into that good night
, the tears came.

This is not how I wanted to die.

I wanted to be 100 years old and surrounded by people who loved me, my last dog sprawled at the end of my bed.

With blinding clarity, I saw that if I made it through this, I had to stop pushing people away.

I had to invite Carol and Heather over for dinner.

I had to call my cousins.

I had to make it up to Quinn.

If I lived through this, I would tell Quinn that I was falling in love with him. That I ran away because I was a coward. That the sight of him lifted my spirits every time, that I'd never met any man I'd cared about like him before.

The engine turned back on the car stayed in motion for a while. I thought we were still in town. It stopped and started, slowed and sped up. If we were on the highway, it would be a constant speed.

I clung to the hope that someone would see a car driving weirdly, but I suspected that the killer was obeying every traffic law. The ride was smooth and deliberate, not jerky at all.

I tried to think about happier things. Running to the woods with Urso. Laying naked and satisfied on my bed with Quinn's fingers running through my hair. Laughing at the café with Heather.

None of my happy times were alone.

I was learning a lot about myself, about what I really needed out of life, from this time.

Now I just had to hope that I'd get a chance to use it.

-Quinn-

The five minute wait for a cop to show up was the longest of my life.

I suddenly had a lot more sympathy for the people who'd screamed at me when I showed up, as though I wasn't the one trying to help them. I felt so fucking powerless.

Maybe I hadn't done the right thing, maybe she was okay, maybe I was about to be arrested.

I hoped I was.

Anything would be better than my Annie in the hands of a torturer and murderer.

Once an officer arrived at the house, it took them about fifteen seconds to be on their radio requesting all available personnel.

"There's already an APB out, Quinn," the guy said before I could say anything. "Everyone's keeping eye out for the dark sedan. You didn't see the license plate of this supposed car?"

Fuck me.

It had to be Skidwell.

One of the men who had gotten me booted off the force.

They hadn't quite lied under oath, but had set me up to look bad, over and over. I'd show up ten minutes later than everyone else and they'd be saying it was because I didn't care, not because my radio kept mysteriously breaking.

Little, petty, bullshit things, until the brass thought I was incompetent.

There was a bit of good, though – he called in all available personnel, even though he didn't believe me, because he wanted to make me look bad in front of as many people as possible.

He thought I was a crazy stalker, or that I was so desperate to get my old job back that I was trying to make myself the hero of some petty drama. I realized I didn't give a damn about ever working as a cop again. I liked working for Hal, and all I wanted was Annie by my side. The only thing I missed about the force was Dragon.

"Too far away by the time I saw the car clearly," I said, shaking my head.

Fuck. I couldn't believe this motherfucker was the one who was supposed to help Annie.

"Were you and your neighbor close?" he asked.

I knew what he was asking.

"We knew each other," I said. "We had started a sexual relationship, yes, but that ended a few days ago."

“Hm,” he said.

I wanted to shove his smug face into the wall.

“Did you have any plans to see her tonight? Were you expecting her to be here?” he asked.

“Her dog is sick,” I ground out.

The officious son of a bitch had stopped me from checking on Annie's dog, and I had to listen to him until someone else showed up.

Fuck him.

Urso needed help.

I walked over to Annie's fridge, ignoring Skidwell's demands to get back to where I'd been. I didn't owe him jack shit.

I was in luck.

She had a printed-out list of numbers for the vet taped to her fridge, and at the end, in her neat handwriting, was the number for someone named Carol.

That was just who I needed.

I called her three times until she picked up, keeping my back to Officer Asshole.

“Annie's gone and Urso's sick,” I said. “Do you have her address? I need someone else over here now. And the search-and-rescue teams. Call everyone.”

The sleep was gone from her voice in under five words.

I was impressed.

“What the fuck? Annie? Shit. Fuck. Okay. I've got this. I'll call Dan, Annie gave me his number for emergencies. He can round everyone up. I'll be there in fifteen minutes.”

When I hung up, I turned back to Skidwell, smiling my best fake smile at him as I flipped him off.

I saw the flashing lights outside the window and relief came over me in a wave.

Another cop was here.

-Annie-

I had no idea what time passed. I didn't know I were in that trunk for minutes or for hours.

The son of a bitch who had me had everything planned so well, I could hardly stand it. He knew where I would be. He knew about Urso. He knew I'd do anything to protect my dog.

At least, that's what he was planning on.

Waiting in the trunk was like being at the dentist. There was nothing I could do to make it pass faster, it was uncomfortable and sort of made me want to punch something. I finally started doing what I did during my last root canal – I worked.

I mean, I couldn't exactly fire up Photoshop and do the final draft, but I could definitely plan what I was doing for each client.

Running down my mental list of what work I had left to do was soothing, and helped me fight off the panic.

It made me feel like I was going home to something, like I was going to survive this.

I imagine how I would totally rebrand Heather's café, from a new name to new art on the walls and Etsy-worthy tablecloths made out of vintage sheets. There wasn't a really trendy coffee shop in our town, she could capitalize on that and bring the tourists in like crazy. With her great food, the locals wouldn't mind the decor.

I'd have to talk to her about it.

It became like a game, figuring out what I would do to help improve business for all my clients.

The only rules were not thinking about Urso and not thinking about how I was going to get out of the trunk.

Finally, it opened again.

I didn't know whether to be relieved or not.

The man who'd taken me was swearing softly under his breath, and I could almost recognize his voice. I'd heard it before. Not this low and irritated, but I'd heard it.

I thought about struggling, but I didn't know whether or not it would make it worse.

Maybe it would get him to let me go faster, but most likely, it would just make him hurt me. I had no hope of getting someone else's attention.

He wouldn't be taking me out of the car if he weren't confident that we wouldn't be seen.

Fuck me.

I was as limp as I could make myself, dead weight, but he lifted me easily. He slung me over one shoulder so casually that I knew I wasn't the first woman he'd done it to.

If I needed any proof that this was the Blue Ridge Killer who had haunted our town, that was it.

This was the man who killed Kelly Morris.

It was someone I'd met.

I didn't get out much. Who the fuck could it have been?

Quinn?

No. Too short, and I knew I'd recognize his voice.

Dan?

I thought Dan was too old to be carrying a woman around so easily, but I wasn't sure. He was in good shape, to be following around his sweet little long-legged scent dog, Lucy.

No.

Dan was one of the kindest men I'd ever met. I couldn't face the idea of him as a monster.

The killer bent down, still holding me, and then stood back up. 

He started walking again, but from the bouncing, I realized we were going down stairs.

Was he taking me to a basement?

I didn't even know, damn it.

“Shame I didn't get to bring Kelly down here,” he said suddenly, in the same garbled voice he'd used in my bedroom.

I think my reaction surprised both of us.

That motherfucker killed that girl, and he was joking about it.

I brought my knees up and connected with something hard. His chin, I thought. I kept kicking my bound legs as much as I could, trying to kick him in his groin, his belly, anything soft.

He swore out loud and shoved me, slamming me against the wall hard and quickly heading down the stairs before I got my wits around me.

“You're going to pay for that later,” he said. “You're going to pay for it for a long, long time.”

His voice was almost inhuman.

It was a snarl.

I didn't even care.

I'd heard his grunt of pain, his hissed intake of breath.

I'd hurt him.

Good.

The son of a bitch tossed me to the ground.

“I'll be back in a few hours,” he said. “Or tomorrow. Whichever.”

His footsteps stomped up the stairs.

A door slammed.

I was alone.