Never Die Alone (A Bentz/Montoya Novel Book 8) (4 page)

“What?”

“A damned car or truck or—oh, shit! Maybe it’s him!”

“What? No, I thought you killed him.”

“I thought I did, too.”

“Where is the car?” Chloe looked over her shoulder, one way and then the other. Even in the dark night Zoe saw the wide whites of her sister’s eyes, felt her fear. “I don’t see anything. No headlights, no—”

“Just run!” Zoe yanked hard on her sister’s hand. They had to leave the road. Zoe couldn’t believe the freak could have survived her attack, but maybe he had an accomplice. Chloe was right, no headlights shined in the wet night, but the uneven growl of an engine bore down on them, and it was coming from the direction of the cabin. “Come on!” Zoe tore through the dark woods, dragging her sister with her. From the way Chloe lagged behind it was clear that Zoe had always been more athletic, while Chloe more of a student. Tonight it didn’t matter. Chloe was going to have to dig deep and push herself if they were going to escape this living nightmare.

Panic reigned as the sound of the vehicle’s engine came nearer. Oh, God, please let him drive past. Let him think we’re long gone. Maybe they should hide, just stop and use the cover of darkness as their cloak, but that seemed like inviting danger. No doubt he had a flashlight or lantern and some kind of a weapon. A gun or machete or whatever.

Dragging her sister, Zoe veered off the road, over a berm of weeds and grass. Finally the rain was letting up a little, clouds moving, a bit of moonlight offering some visibility.

“We should’ve listened to Mom,” Chloe said as they stumbled and raced to the edge of the woods. “We should’ve gone to her apartment.”

“Then this dickwad wouldn’t have found us.” Chloe was breathing hard, panting.

“Too late.”

“Or I should never have broken up with Tommy. If he were here, he would know what to do—”

“Tommy’s a prick and we don’t have time for this!” Why the hell was Chloe thinking about her exboyfriend now?

“But he loves me!”

“Oh, for crap’s sake, just hurry!” Together they scrambled through the undergrowth. Thorns pricked, nettles stung, the sharp edges of pinecones cut into their feet as they hurtled blindly through the trees. Chloe thought she heard and smelled water ahead, maybe a creek or river or—

“Ow! Shit!” Chloe yelped, her hand sliding from Zoe’s as she fell. “Damn it all to hell.”

“Shh!” Zoe ordered, sliding to a stop and turning back toward her sister. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she whipped around. Was there someone else here? Suddenly she felt dozens of pairs of unseen eyes watching her. Which was crazy. No way. She took a few steps toward the sound of running water. Aside from the lunatic she’d left in the cabin and whoever was driving the car, they were alone . . . right?

A twig snapped.

Zoe spun quickly, searching the darkness. “Chloe?” she whispered.

No answer.

“Chloe!” Which way was her sister? She had to be nearby. “Where the hell are you?” Her voice was a raspy whisper as she squinted into the shadows. “Chloe?”

“Over here!” Her sister shouted from the suddenly quiet copse. But her voice came from a few yards off, as if she were moving away from Zoe.

“Where are you?” Zoe whispered.

“Here!”

The engine had quit running and now . . . Oh, God, Zoe saw the sweep of a flashlight’s beam flickering through the foliage. How the hell had he found them?
It’s not the freak. He’s dead. You killed him. You had to have killed him. He couldn’t have survived.

“Maybe it’s help,” Chloe ventured.

“No!” Zoe wasn’t convinced. “We’ve got to get out of here,” she shrieked, her arm scrabbling in the air, searching in the direction from which she thought she’d heard Chloe’s voice. “Run!”

“Don’t leave me!” Chloe cried.

Zoe turned and plunged into the dense growth, racing toward the sound of her sister’s voice. A few steps in her legs met the resistance of something heavy and cold. By the time she realized it was a fallen log, she was going down.

Crap! She tumbled down, rolling to a stop against a stump. “Oooph!” Sharp pain splintered through her ankle.

“Zoe!” Chloe cried as the beam of the flashlight strobed through the trees, searching.

They were seconds away from being discovered, and Zoe couldn’t let the searcher find her twin. No way! Zoe stood a chance against whoever was hunting them down, but she had to think fast to save her sister. Forcing herself back onto her feet, she tried to keep weight off her tender ankle as she waved and yelled and screamed to divert the hunter’s attention from Chloe. “Hey!” she shouted at the beam of light. It moved quickly, bouncing as if whoever was holding it was running. “Hey! Over here!”

But the light didn’t swing in her direction. Instead, it veered over into the brush many yards from her, toward her sister. Horrified, Zoe watched the watery beam shift and circle, homing in.

Suddenly the beam landed on Chloe. Cowering and ghostly in the light, she seemed rooted to the spot, frozen in fear.

“Chloe, run!” Zoe screamed as she struggled to see the hunter in the thin moonlight. It was a big, hulking form. The hairy man in an apron. The monster was alive! Somehow he’d survived!

Sick inside, she screamed at the top of her lungs for her sister to get on her feet and escape. “Go! Run!”

But it was too late. In the next instant the freak pounced on his prey, springing with the agility of a lion.

Chloe let out a shriek as the light cut out.

Oh, God!

“There’s still time!” he growled, his voice a gravelly whisper in the damp night.

Instinctively, Zoe had lurched toward her sister, but now, trapped in the muddy darkness, she froze. She’d lost her bearings! She stared into the night, willing her eyes to focus in the moonlight. As her eyes adjusted she saw him hovering over her shocked twin. It looked as if he were striking her again and again, but as her focus sharpened Zoe realized he was tying Chloe up. The beast was subduing her, trapping her, just as a spider traps its prey . . . for later.

Zoe sank onto the wet ground, her fingers scrabbling over the earth and mud, searching for a weapon—a rock, a stick, anything. What had he said?
There’s still time?
As if there were a deadline. Her fingertips located a root, but she couldn’t dislodge it. Damn it, there had to be some stone or . . . nothing!

“Help!” Chloe cried, and Zoe sprang to her feet only to feel an excruciating pain skitter up her leg. Jesus!

“Zoe! I can’t—”

And then Chloe’s voice cut off, as if she’d been gagged.

“Let’s go,” he croaked.

“No!” Zoe screamed, hobbling toward them. Terror rushed through her as she watched him haul her sister to his shoulder and begin walking toward the road. “I’ll be back,” he growled in that horrid voice. “Don’t worry. The party won’t start without you.”

Zoe took a step forward, intent on chasing him down, on somehow maiming him and saving Chloe. After all, she’d done it before, but his chilling words echoed through her brain.

And then she knew for certain that this was all about timing—about their mutual birthday. Whatever his twisted plan was, it involved both sisters, not just one, otherwise he wouldn’t have taken the time or chance to kidnap them both. The bastard needed both of them to do his sick work, and that gave Zoe some power. The only way to save Chloe was to save herself first.

With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, Zoe pressed into the forest. The pain in her ankle was crippling and her chances of outrunning him were nil, but she had to try to escape and lure him away from Chloe. She had to make sure the clock kept ticking. Then she’d double back and save her sister. There wasn’t much time, but this, she felt, was her only option.

As she ran, she heard him give chase.

She had a head start because he’d taken the time to put Chloe into his vehicle. Dear God, if Chloe had the brains and the ability, maybe she could drive away and get help! But those thoughts were futile. Chloe was too passive, too introverted, too damned weak to help herself. Chloe was the classic victim.
That’s why it’s up to me to save her,
Zoe thought as she hobbled through the dark woods.

Closer he came, crashing through the underbrush.

He was gaining on her!

Over the rush of water and the rasp of her own ragged breathing she heard the pounding of his footsteps, snapping twigs as he rushed forward.

Her heart froze.

Lunging forward, she brushed branches from her face. Thorns scratched against her bare legs, but she kept moving, plunging through the darkness. Her heart was beating frantically, pulsing in her ears when she heard his breath coming in hard, fast gasps.

So near!

So damned close.

Even though her twin was tied up, she hoped Chloe was using this distraction to try and escape.

“It’s no use, bitch,” he said, his voice so close to her she flinched. Oh, God, he was right behind her! Adrenaline spurred her legs faster just as she felt fingernails swipe over her bare shoulder and fall away. “I’ve got you!” His foul stench told her that he was close, inches away. He took another swipe at her, this time grabbing her arm. Zoe leaped, trying to break free of the pincer of his grip. Her shoulder wrenched as she yanked her arm back and his moist hand, sweaty and probably bloody, slipped away.

“Shit!”

The force of evading him sent her airborne. She landed hard, and her ankle gave way. Letting out a groan, she began to roll down a steep hill, her body bumping and sliding over mud and leaves. Picking up speed, she kept traveling down, down . . . away from him. She surrendered to the momentum and let herself tumble like a stone.

Above it all, somewhere beyond her violent descent, she heard the far-off rev of an engine.

Zoe slid into the water.

“What the fuck?” the freak cried from the top of the embankment. “Shit!”

As she felt the current tug her downstream, she silently prayed that her twin would get away.

C
HAPTER
4

 

 

Brianna’s eyes flew open. For a second she was disoriented and blinking in the darkness. The dream, so vivid and real, receded as her cell phone rang again. Automatically she reached onto the nightstand where her phone glowed dimly as it jangled again. Tanisha Lefevre’s photograph and number appeared on the screen.

Tanisha was a friend whom she’d met through the support group Brianna managed, a group for people who were struggling with the loss of their twin siblings. “Twinless twins,” some called them. Tanisha had been one of the first members to join. As Brianna reached for the still-ringing phone, she had to push St. Ives, her overweight cat, off the pillow. No doubt his purring had been the source of the rumbling in her dreams.

“Hello?” she answered, blinking and trying to shove aside the disturbing images from her nightmare. “Tanisha? Are you okay?”

“No,” was the quick answer. “Not really and I, uh, I know it’s late.”

Brianna glanced at the clock. Nearly two a.m. “Real late.”

“Yeah, yeah, I said I know. But I couldn’t sleep, kept having weird dreams about Allacia. I’m sorry, but I had to talk to someone.”

“No problem,” Brianna said, scooting up in the bed and propping a pillow behind her. She flipped on the bedside lamp while St. Ives hopped down and padded over to the glass door overlooking the patio of her small house. “What happened?”

“It’s just that I’ve had this weird vibe tonight, like it was happening all over again. You know, the separation thing.” Before Brianna could say a word she launched into her story. “Allacia and I, we were teenagers, but we weren’t living with Mom and Dad. We were on our own and we went on a double date or something, I can’t remember all the details. Anyway, Allacia she gets mad at her date and takes off. I didn’t want to leave my date, but I chased after my sister and she slipped out of sight. Disappeared. Bam. I couldn’t find her. Then it all mixed up and I was in college, but I kept seeing her. She was like texting me all the time, asking me to meet her and I’d go, but she’d never show. In between the dreams I’d wake up, calm down, then go back to sleep and dream about her all over again. Y’know, it’s kinda freaky. Like somethin’s happening.”

Tanisha believed that in the universe of twins, there was an invisible aura connecting them. She thought that a traumatic event experienced by one twin could also be felt by the other. Tanisha also claimed to be sensitive to the pain of other twins she had met. Brianna found Tanisha’s beliefs to be more than a little extreme, but hey, hadn’t she, too, had a weird nightmare about her own twin tonight?

“What do you think is happening?” asked Brianna.

“Separation,” Tanisha said decisively.

“To whom?”

“I’m not sure. Just close twins.”

“Someone you know?”

“No . . . well, maybe. Someone I know of. Look, I know you think I’m a little out there with all this twin stuff, but trust me, it’s true. I can’t tell you what’s going on with twins in Berlin or Moscow or Capetown, or even here in New Orleans if I don’t know them or of them, but if I do, I just feel some strange vibe.”

“If they’re separated.”

“Yeah, oh yeah. I mean, it’s not like I can read their thoughts or any strange stuff like that. And complete strangers? Forget it. But if there’s some thread linking me to them, no matter how thin, I’m tellin’ you, I get this weird feeling, kinda like a spider crawling up your bare back, y’know? And then I can’t sleep and I end up calling you in the middle of the damned night.”

“It’s fine,” Brianna assured her as St. Ives began batting on the door wanting to go wandering in the night. “Anytime.” She considered admitting that she, too, had dreamt about her own sister, but decided against it. She dreamed so often about Arianna, Brianna didn’t think tonight’s dream was significant.

“Thanks. I guess I just had to get it off my chest, and I’m not sure I want to share it with the group tomorrow.”

“That’s what group is for.”

“I know, I know, but . . . well, maybe. Depends on who’s there, I guess, and the whole discussion.” With a sigh, she said, “Look, I’d better go. I have an
early
wakeup call in the morning. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She groaned. “Well, technically later today.” She hung up, leaving Brianna telling herself that her dream had nothing to do with Tanisha’s.

Twins thought about each other often, and even if one moved away or died or disappeared, the remaining twin could be consumed with memories, dreams, even the need to converse with the missing person. Not all twins were close, but Brianna believed that all twins had a deep connection, one that went beyond the simple genetic link of biological siblings. “Or maybe you’re just kidding yourself,” she said aloud as she threw off the covers and walked to the door. She opened it a crack and let the cat slip through.

A gust of summer wind blew into the room, ruffling the curtains and carrying the sweet scent of magnolia. Brianna stepped outside and watched St. Ives slither through the bushes lining the enclosed patio with its uneven stone floor and broken fountain. The breeze stirred leaves in the magnolia tree and she heard a distant siren piercing the night, far beyond the walls of her private garden. She shivered as she scanned the perimeter of the small, enclosed veranda. There weren’t many hiding spots, no little nooks and crannies where someone could hide, and still she felt a prickle of dread, her skin pimpling.

No one’s out here. Get over yourself. There’s no maniac in the shadows, no killer on the prowl in your garden, no damned monster in the closet.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling. Ever.

Since Arianna had died, Brianna had never felt truly safe, never truly whole.

Swallowing back her fear, she noticed the gate to the garage was latched; the bolt on the inside was in place, locking it to the concrete. Good. Taking a few deep breaths, she felt a little calmer. “Come on inside,” she called to the cat, who blatantly ignored her and went about his nocturnal hunting. “Okay. Fine. Suit yourself. You’ve got five minutes. Hear me? Five.” She actually raised her hand and spread her fingers in the tabby’s direction, then told herself she was genuinely nuts for thinking the cat understood vocal commands or her gesture or the concept of time. Feeling foolish, she went back to bed and stared up at the ceiling. The door remained cracked, a stick propped to keep it open wide enough for the cat to slip through. As she lay staring up at the ceiling, she wondered about Tanisha’s dreams of separation and how they related to her own nightmare.

“Just a coincidence,” she said aloud, and glanced at the picture she kept on her night table. Picking up the silver frame, she studied the snapshot taken nearly thirty years before of identical twin girls, toddlers in shorts and matching T-shirts. Their arms were flung around each other as they stood at the prow of a fishing boat, the sea and sky sparking behind them. Brianna traced her finger along the small face of her identical sibling and her heart cracked a little. Arianna had been gone for so long, and yet she still missed her intensely. Especially on nights like this.

And though she was loath to admit it, Brianna did believe there was something to Tanisha’s feelings about disturbances in the twin universe. Hadn’t she, too, experienced the pain of separation? And to be honest, she had to admit that separation played a part in her dream, in which one twin’s bones had scattered away through the desert.

She thought about the two skeletons she’d seen in her nightmare, how she’d known they belonged to the missing Reeves brothers. She had no idea how she knew that fact; she simply did.

Worse yet, deep in her heart, she knew more. She knew that he was out there, and he had made another move. She squeezed her eyes shut against the knowledge that filled her with dread: the 21 Killer had struck yet again.

 

 

Exhausted, Zoe swam with the current, faster and faster, trying to put as much space between her and the freak as she could. Chloe had escaped, she felt sure of that. So in the chilly water Zoe bolstered her own spirits by telling herself that her sister was okay. Now it was her turn to find safety.

Any normal person would give up chase at this point, but Zoe couldn’t be certain how the freak would act. So she let the current carry her on farther downstream all the while trying not to think of the alligators that lived in these murky waters. It would be awful to have escaped the naked pervert only to become gator bait.

When she considered her ordeal, she felt safer facing gators than him. To think that she and Chloe has actually been kidnapped and stripped naked and held by a madman for some bizarre birthday ritual . . . it was crazy. But they’d thwarted him. Well, at least for now. Since she and Chloe could identify the psycho, he would probably keep hunting them down.

No, the ordeal was far from over.

She’d never make it; not without rest. A cold-blooded chill pervaded her body and every muscle ached. She fantasized about a warm bath, her own bed. As she rounded a bend in the river, she spied lights in the distance. Hope glimmered in those lights—a town on the shores of the river. There, she hoped, she would find a Good Samaritan to call the police. She would tell the authorities what had happened to her, reconnect with Chloe, and hopefully end this madness. She headed toward civilization. She hoped.

Oh, God, please, she silently prayed as she felt something slithery and wet slide through her legs.

For the love of Mary. She brushed at the object, kicked away from it, and tried to maintain a steady stroke in the water. Her ankle was throbbing, her muscles beginning to weaken, but she kept swimming, putting distance between herself and the freak’s lair as she eased closer to the town.

Just a few more strokes.

She stretched her arm forward and felt something slimy and wet just before the heavy object struck her head.

Pain slammed through her brain.

She slid under the surface as a fat, rough log rolled over her, threatening to pin her down.

Frantically she thrashed in the darkness.

The air in her lungs came out in streams of bubbles as she shielded her head and pushed away from the log. She managed to free herself, but which way was up? She needed air. She gasped, taking in river water as she tried to surface.

Her lungs recoiled and she shot upward, barely missing the heavy log again.

Sputtering and coughing, she tried to expel the water in her lungs as she gasped for air.

The world spun.

She didn’t know up from down, night sky from inky black water.

Instinctively she reached forward. Her fingers collided with a narrow end of the log and she grabbed on, wildly clutching a fork in the limb. This could be her raft, her lifesaver. She hung on, letting it pull her downstream. She blinked and coughed, aware of her vulnerability in the black river. She knew it would be easier to just let go, to let the river and the night swallow her.

Surrender was seductive, but she couldn’t allow herself to let go now. So she hung on, clinging to the log and the hope of life, battling to keep unconsciousness at bay, all the time praying that Chloe had gotten away.

 

 

A gate? There was a gate blocking her escape? Chloe couldn’t believe it, but the beams of the headlights washed upon the obstacle.

After she’d slipped her hands from his loosely tied bonds and while he was desperate to track down Zoe, Chloe had managed to yank off her gag and take advantage of the keys he’d moronically left in the ignition.