The Profiler (39 page)

The photo of her jewelry.

The story about Josie Ward, picturing her grieving parents.

Sally Batten’s mother, desolate in her huge armchair.

So many others Ellie didn’t recognize…

A close-up photo of Jamie’s mangled pram.

She gasped and blinked her eyes to clear them, certain she’d got it wrong, but the article was still there. The one that showed her being held back by a paramedic, her face bleak with agony and despair.

Oh, God, it was him.
He was the one who’d killed Jamie.

Bile rose in her throat, threatening to choke her. She coughed and gasped and tried to dislodge the revulsion that blocked her airways. Her head spun and lights sparkled behind her closed eyelids. She was suffocating.

And then she was exploding with pain.

Lex’s fist connected with her rib cage, snapping bone beneath his knuckles.

“Breathe, Detective. I don’t want you dying too early and missing out on all the fun.”

Despite the agony, she struggled against the ropes that bound her, knowing her time was running out. A knife appeared in Lex’s hand, the blade glinting in the light. He moved closer and cold steel pressed against her neck.

She gasped in ice-cold fear. White-hot heat seared her neck and blood trickled down the side of her throat. Shivering with panic, she tried not to choke on the rag in her mouth. He grabbed hold of her head and ran the knife lightly across her throat, from one side to the other.

“I guess I could do it right now. Make it quick and easy, like I was with the others. But then, they weren’t quite as special as you.”

There was a wildness in his eyes that drove terror straight through her heart. Fear got the better of her and she felt her bladder give way.

“Fuck! You pissed on my table! You fucking pissed on my table!”

This time, his fist connected with her stomach. Pain crashed through her, setting her nerve endings on fire.

“You’re going to fucking pay for that, bitch.”

The door to the shed opened. Relief poured through her. Wilson looked up in surprise.

Clayton!

No, not him. Someone else.

A moment later, her captor sighed in pleasure and a wide grin stretched across his bearded face.

“Michelle, my sweet. What a lovely surprise. I’ve often wondered if you missed it as much as I did.”

The woman Ellie had spoken to earlier—spoken to and had entirely discounted—appeared in front of Ellie, a frown of concern marring her face.

As if oblivious to her unease, Wilson smiled at his wife. “I’ve saved the best till last, my sweet wife. Isn’t she the most magnificent creation you’ve ever seen?”

He indicated Ellie on the workbench and Michelle stepped closer. Her eyes widened in recognition, replaced quickly by fear.

“Lex! How could you? This one’s with the police. Why did you have to bring her home?”

He shrugged. “I know, my sweet, but what was I to do? She climbed into my car, right when I needed her.” He shrugged again. “What was I to do?”

Michelle didn’t look convinced and Ellie prayed fervently with what little strength she had left that the woman would intervene.

“It’s too risky, Lex. You need to let her go. She was here earlier, asking about you. Someone will know she was here. They will come looking.”

Wilson appeared to weigh up the wisdom of her words. Ellie held her breath, desperate for anything that would delay the inevitable. At last, Lex let out a sigh and nodded.

“You’re right. It’s too risky. But I can’t just let her go. She knows too much.” He looked around the shed. “She’s seen too much.”

“Please Lex, let her go. Think of me. Think of our girls. You need to stop.”

“Yes, you’re right. Of course, you’re right. I’ll take her to the theme park. No one will think to look for her there.”

Ellie frowned, her mind in a turmoil.
The theme park?
What were they talking about?”

Michelle’s shoulders slumped on a loud sigh. “This is it, Lex. This is the last time. It must stop.” Her gaze burned with determination. “We’ll go and see someone—a doctor—someone who can help you.”

Ellie held her breath. Lex moved closer to his wife. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Okay,” he whispered. “It’s over. I promise. Just as soon as I get rid of this one. It’s for the best. For everyone.”

Michelle nodded, her expression one of sad resignation. “All right. Go, but hurry home. I’ll stay here, in case the police come calling. Can you handle her on your own?”

“Of course.”

“What are you going to do with her?”

“I only want her head. After that, I will get rid of her.”

Michelle gave a short nod of agreement. “So be it.”

The woman turned and left the shed as silently as she’d entered. Working quickly now, Lex loosened the rope that held Ellie bound to the workbench and eased her into a sitting position. Her arms remained tied behind her back.

Lex pulled the Taser gun out of his pocket and pressed it against her heart.

“We’re going for another ride. One false move and I’ll shoot you. At this close range, there’s no guarantee you’ll survive. Do you understand?”

Ellie drew in a breath to speak and choked on the filthy rag. Giving up the effort to communicate verbally, she nodded.

Lex’s eyes glittered in anticipation. “You’re going to love where I’m taking you. It’s so much better this way. What better way to celebrate my finest achievement than from the top of the old rollercoaster?”

* * *

Clayton checked the magazine of his gun for the third time and drew in a deep breath in an effort to steady his trembling fingers. He knew Ben’s concern about his involvement in the search for Ellie was well founded and he would have probably reacted the same way. But he couldn’t sit at the station waiting, wondering what was happening while the woman he loved was in the hands of a psychopathic murderer.

Not a sound could be heard from inside the shed that sat non-threateningly in the darkness that surrounded Wilson’s backyard. They only had Ellie’s ambiguous text to point them in this direction, but everyone at the station, including Clayton, agreed it was the place the made the most sense.

Wilson needed a place to take his victims. The other girls had been butchered someplace other than the location where they’d been found. It had always been Clayton’s premise that the killer they hunted had a house of his own.

He caught the eye of Harry Turner, the head of their hastily assembled TRG squad. A single nod. It was time.

In silence, the other squad members took their positions. Clayton watched while Harry counted them down. Moments later, the yard was filled with noise.

“Go! Go! Go!”

The door to the shed burst open and the room was filled with TRG officers, shouting and yelling and pointing guns. Clayton’s gaze zeroed in on the workbench in the middle of the room. Apart from a rope as thick as his arm, the table was empty.

Moving closer, he smelled the acrid odor of urine mixed with the smell of paint fumes. A wet patch marked the wooden bench. Small, dark stains that looked suspiciously like blood also marred the surface.

He looked around, spotting three chest freezers and various tools that had been left out on the bench that ran along the opposite side of the shed. A tin of pink paint sat amongst a pile of wood shavings.

They’d found him. But where was Ellie?

With a feeling of foreboding, Clayton strode over to one of the freezers. Gritting his teeth, he lifted the lid.

“Holy fuck!” The expletive was muttered by Turner, his tone thick with shock and disbelief as he peered around Clayton at the contents of the freezer. “Are they…?” His voice faded off.

Clayton stared at what he presumed were the legs of Sally Batten and nodded grimly. “I’m afraid so.”

Wishing he could find relief in the fact that they’d at last identified their killer, Clayton turned away from the sad display before him. Ellie was missing. As far as he knew, she was with the monster who took pleasure carving up women while they were still alive.

Fear cramped his belly. He glanced over at Turner and saw the newspaper clippings.

The blood drained from his face.

* * *

Ellie stared out the window of the taxi and prayed for a miracle. Hopes of Clayton finding her were fading fast. She’d prayed that he’d decode the text she’d sent him and head over to Wilson’s house, but now that they’d left the property, she knew he’d never locate her in time.

There was no way he’d even think to look for her at the derelict theme park that used to house Australia’s Wonderland. Not being from Sydney, he probably wasn’t even aware it existed.

The park had been closed for years. It had been inhabited by homeless wanderers from time to time and went through cycles of being a hangout for drug dealers, but by and large, it was considered abandoned and would never find its way onto most peoples’ radar.

Moving slightly on the seat, Ellie struggled to find a more comfortable position. Her arms were still bound, but Wilson had retied them in front of her, explaining that he would need her to help him by pulling herself up into the carriage of the roller coaster.

“You can see for miles up there,” he’d smiled. “It’s the best view in Sydney. What better way to complete my creation?”

She’d shuddered at the madness that gleamed in his eyes and had turned away from him, refusing to allow him the satisfaction of seeing the desolation and despair that threatened to overwhelm her.

She shifted her weight again and frowned at the lump beneath her bottom. Working her hands closer toward the offending object, she realized her phone was still in the pocket of her jacket.

Her heart clenched with elation and was immediately followed by disappointment. She couldn’t possibly get it out and use it with her hands bound the way they were…
Or could
she?

Her life was at stake. She refused to give up without a fight. She snuck a glance at Wilson. His attention was fixed on the road in front of him. He hummed a tune she didn’t recognize. A slight smile played around his lips. He appeared lost in his thoughts, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

She inched her hands in the direction of her jacket pocket and walked her fingers beneath her until she finally came into contact with her phone. Her heart skipped a beat. As carefully as she could, she grasped the phone between two fingers and pulled, praying desperately that her grip would hold. Inch by inch, the phone moved toward her hand. At last, she’d tugged it far enough out of her pocket that her fingers could close around it.

She wanted to collapse in relief, but retrieving the phone was only half the battle.

Peeking at Wilson from beneath her lashes, Ellie was confident his attention still remained elsewhere. With the phone now grasped firmly in her right hand, she brought it to her lap and glanced down. As quickly as she could, she opened a new message screen and typed a one-word message to Clayton.

* * *

Clayton dragged his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time and clamped his jaw shut on another curse. The officers around him gave him a wide berth, their faces reflecting his frustration and fear.

Lex Wilson had only one known place of abode. A computer search under his wife’s name had come up with nothing. After examining every inch of the backyard shed, Clayton and the TRG members had pounded on the door that led to the house, demanding entry.

A confused and half-asleep woman had met them at the door. After identifying herself as Michelle Wilson, she’d denied any knowledge of her husband’s whereabouts, claiming that the last time she’d seen him had been earlier in the afternoon, right before he’d left for work.

After searching the premises and finding nothing but a couple of sleeping children, the men had reluctantly withdrawn and by tacit agreement had headed back to the station to regroup.

Clayton clenched his fists in an effort to stop himself from driving one of them through the nearest wall. He needed to hit something, anything. Hard. Not knowing Ellie’s whereabouts was driving him beyond the point of reason. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d stared at his phone, willing it to conjure some form of contact from her, but it had remained agonizingly silent. If it hadn’t been for Ben’s cautioning frown, he’d probably have lost all control.

He’d never felt so scared and helpless in all of his life. Ellie was out there somewhere with a madman and he didn’t have a clue how to find her. The beep of his phone inside his shirt pocket sent his pulse skyrocketing. He fumbled in his haste to drag it out of his pocket. He glanced at the screen and his heart went into overdrive. It was a text from Ellie.

1derlnd.

Frustration surged through him. What the fuck did that mean?

“Ben!” Clayton covered the distance to Ben’s office in four large strides. “Ben!”

Ben stepped out through the doorway, his face lined with fatigue. “What is it, Clayton?”

“Ellie’s sent me another text.”

“Oh, thank God! That means she’s still alive. What did she say?”