The Unlucky (12 page)

Vivian’s numbing of her gun hand wore off as fast as it came on.

The girl was already crawling away from Belinda’s body. At the stairs, she clambered to her feet and rushed up the steps, only stumbling once.

Without looking back into the corner, Sarah checked Belinda’s pulse to make sure she was gone.

“Is she dead?” the girl on the bed asked, her voice weak.

“Looks that way.” Sarah scanned the woman’s body. Their eyes met. Insanity lingered behind the soft brown eyes of a once beautiful woman. What the woman must’ve endured down here had changed her forever. This was the kind of thing a team of therapists could listen to in group therapy and then be in need of therapy themselves for having heard it.

“What happened here?” Sarah asked with trepidation, not sure she wanted to hear the truth.

The girl rolled back in the bed until she was staring up at the basement ceiling. She panted, breathing in and out in gasps now. Between breaths, she tried to speak.

“They kidnapped … us.”

Sarah looked around at the filth in an attempt to determine where the smell was coming from.

“They tortured us, raped us and dismembered us.”

Dismembered?

Sarah’s eyes shot to the woman’s yellowed hands and feet. Moments before she thought it was a body bruise or a malfunctioning liver. But now, this close, she saw what was strapped to the woman’s limbs.

“They cut those girls up,” she jerked her head toward the corner where the two bodies lie tied to the wall. The two that Sarah hadn’t looked back at yet. “And placed their hands and feet on my stumps after removing mine.”

Sarah had heard enough. She stumbled away, bumped Belinda’s body and fell, hitting the basement’s cement floor with a thump as vomit shot from her whiskey-addled stomach.

Oh Vivian …

“I’m sorry,” the girl continued. “Please. Help me. Get me out of here.”

The woman who had run upstairs began screaming. She shouted something incoherent as Sarah vomited again.

Her anger rose with the bile. In a distant part of her consciousness she understood her path, her destiny. She always had, but since the days of stopping Armond Stuart in Europe and Elmore Ackerman in Toronto, she had slipped a little. She had grown softer, cooler. Maybe even a little arrogant. Her youthful ways back when she was a newbie at this had kept her alive. She had a mouth on her in those days and an attitude that made her feel invincible. But recently she had found love with Aaron. As beautiful as love was, it had softened her. She could still love, but to do what she did with Vivian, she needed to pull from the place that she used to pull from. She needed to get angrier and deal with people like Joel and Belinda without remorse or worry of consequences. There was no court of law that could ever pass sentencing that made up for what had happened here in this basement.

If that meant Sarah had to go underground, then so be it. Vivian would teach her, keep her safely hidden. But in the end, her mission, her
life’s
mission, was to locate people who broke the law and not only got away with it, but never
really
paid for what they did.

These abused women would pay for the rest of their lives, if they lived long enough to allow that suffering.

Sarah wept on the cold floor of the basement as she wiped bile from the edge of her mouth. Vivian snuck in her conscious and whispered that she was sorry, but there was no other way. Sarah needed to get back to Toronto to deliver a message. The police were on their way. The girl upstairs had called them.

Then, in a brief flash, Vivian explained what had happened here.

Sarah’s stomach clenched again, this time more violently. It made her feel weak, but most of all, it made her feel human. And to be human is to be humane. To be humane meant people like Belinda and Joel didn’t deserve life sentences in cushy prisons, meals at set hours and workout routines. No, to be humane was to rip their heads off for what they had done to these women.

Sarah whispered a small prayer for the girls in the corner as she understood why they looked so horrid now. Their skin had been removed in spots and interchanged with the other’s body in a grotesquery of puppetry. Several parts of their bodies were hacked out or off and were used in sexual ways that Sarah didn’t even know were possible.

Dolls,
Belinda had called them.

The girl on the other bed was dead. She had died that morning, hence the search for another hitchhiker today to replace their dead toy. The horrid stitch job had been Joel’s insane search for a demon he claimed had hidden in her flesh. The same demon that forced him to rape her countless times in unimaginable ways.

All this and more came to Sarah through Vivian’s unique presence. Sarah didn’t want to know anything else, couldn’t stand the thought of it. Her sanity tilted momentarily, leaving Sarah wondering if she would slip into blissful madness. That might be a better alternative than being aware, awake.

She struggled to her feet, weakened by the expelling of her stomach and her physical setbacks prior to arriving at the house. Once standing, she held the railing by the stairs and waited until her head cleared.

“The police,” she licked her lips and swallowed, her throat dry. “The police are coming. You can go home soon.” She started up the stairs, then stopped. A glance at Belinda’s body issued a revolting disgust inside her that she had heretofore never felt. She raised the weapon and fired twice into Belinda’s face and throat. Then she looked at the woman on the bed.

“I’m sorry.” She caught a tear with the back of her wrist as it descended her cheek. “I’m so, so sorry.”

At the top of the stairs, she entered the hall and turned for the back of the yard. The hitchhiker Belinda and Joel had snatched earlier sat curled up on the floor against the cupboard, sobbing.

“I called …” She hiccuped. “I called the police.”

“Good,” Sarah said.

The smell in the kitchen was just as bad as before but this time, thanks to Vivian, Sarah knew the source. Body parts, feces and decaying flesh was wrapped in a bag for later disposal. The bag was leaking under the kitchen sink.

“Maybe you should wait outside,” Sarah suggested. “Smells better out there.”

“I’m not going near him.” She pointed at Joel’s body in the chair out by the back porch.

“He’s dead. He can’t hurt you. Come on.”

Sarah offered a hand and the girl took it. Outside, she helped the girl onto the grass where she lay out and stared up at the vast blue sky. Then Sarah moved to stand in front of Joel. As she did with Belinda, Sarah raised Simmons’ weapon and emptied it into Joel’s dead body.

“There, he can’t hurt you ever again. He’s not just dead, he’s completely dead.”

She placed the gun down in front of Joel. After a quick search of his pockets, she located the gate fob and deactivated the electrical fence and opened the iron gate wide.

Sirens wailed in the distance, leaving little time. She exited the property without looking back, only pausing to grab a tin can that once held corn out of their recycle bin and continued walking.

She left the nightmare behind her. The heat didn’t bother her. The lack of water made her stronger. She walked with purpose, the tin can in her hand, and made her way back to the highway.

According to Vivian there was a lot to do yet. This was only the beginning, and even though Sarah wasn’t too keen on dealing with anything remotely like what she had just witnessed, she was determined to end this her way, the only way she knew how. The old Sarah way.

Wanting to scream, to push the memories back, to allow the anger a place to flow, Sarah walked faster, her energy brimming over.

Moments later she was running, her teeth clenched as she cried for the lost ones.

“No more,” she shouted at the bushes. “No more fucking around!”

Chapter 14

Sarah made it to Toronto with time to spare. The easiest way was to hike a half hour into the southern tip of Orillia. Soon she came upon a hospital where she found a cab to take her to the casino.

In front of the casino, she had a pick of which limousine would take her south to Toronto. This time she chose a stretch limo so she could lie down in the back to rest.

Once inside, she had the driver close the window between him and the back, turn off the interior lights, turn the air conditioning up full and take her to city hall, downtown Toronto. The tiny fridge in the limo was filled with bottles of water. After finishing two bottles, she nursed the third one as her eyes fluttered shut.

Hours later, as the sun leaked behind the distant clouds in the west and an ash-colored sky gave way to darkness, Sarah shuffled along Queen Street toward Nathan Phillips Square, the tin can from the horror house clutched firmly in her hand. They would find Simmons’ gun on the ground in front of Joel. Once the serial number was run through the system, Simmons would be contacted. It would lead back to Sarah and ultimately the death of Joel and Belinda would fall on her head. But that didn’t matter anymore. She was happy she killed them.

A memory from the CN Tower surfaced. Sarah had said to Vanessa,
No one has to die,
and Vivian had whispered inside Sarah’s head,
Famous last words
. At the time Sarah wasn’t sure what her sister meant, but she knew now and completely agreed. Some people should die. They didn’t belong with the rest of civilized society. People like Belinda and Joel weren’t contributing members of the human race anymore. She once heard someone say that there were two kinds of people in the world, hammers and nails. Some people were the hammer and some, the nail. But then there were people like Joel who
thought
he was a hammer.

This would end soon,
Vivian had said. But first, a few small tasks were left. Easy tasks.

Famous last words, eh Vivian.

Easy tasks. It was never easy with Vivian. But that didn’t matter anymore, either. Sarah was angry and she wanted people to pay for their actions more than ever before.

Groups of people gathered in front of city hall. The buildings were tall and shaped like crescent moons. The unique construction of Toronto’s city hall stood out amongst the tall buildings surrounding them in the core of a large magnificent city. But what came with large cities like this one was crime. A lot of it. Crime on a scale that would keep someone like Sarah in full-time work.

Large tour buses lined Queen Street in front of Nathan Phillips Square. Close to the front of city hall, tents had been erected for some kind of flea market.

Buses emptied as hundreds of tourists headed toward the tents. Somehow, in this throng of people, Sarah was supposed to locate a man named Fletcher Aldrich, Joel’s brother, and give him a note. She still had no idea what the tin can in her hand was for, but Vivian said she’d let her know when the time was right.

Sarah started across the cement walkway, her stomach growling at the smell from a hotdog stand. Since leaving that house, she hadn’t thought about food or a shower, or much else.

Meet Fletcher,
Vivian had said.
Give him the note.
Then she could call to see if Aaron had been released yet.

Or maybe not.

There was no point in involving him further. She’d call him when whatever she was doing in Toronto was over.

Fletcher Aldrich, Joel’s brother, was a Toronto councilman who was supposed to represent his constituents, but was involved in something altogether dreadful. His crimes were still being kept from Sarah, but knowing he was Joel’s brother, she suspected it had to be terrible.

She had to promise Vivian she wouldn’t kill him, though. He was entering into the mayoral race this year and was popular among the people. Killing him here, tonight, ended Sarah’s career as a vigilante. Leaving him with the note would be all that was needed.

Sarah stood in the center of the throng while men in suits came and went through the front doors of city hall.

How will I know him?
Sarah asked.

She waited, but felt nothing from Vivian. Earlier, when the limo had dropped her off close to where the buses were letting people out, she had walked a couple of blocks down Queen Street until she found a store that sold hair products. After tying her hair up, she bought a baseball cap that had a blue jay on the front and on the back it said Toronto Blue Jays and something about being winners in 1992-1993.

Disguised as best she could in the short time she had, she waited in the bright lights surrounding the entrance to city hall for Fletcher Aldrich.

Fletcher could be the same kind of man as his brother. Wealth had a way of protecting criminals. But when they fell, they fell the hardest. She had recently read in the Globe & Mail newspaper about Helmuth Buxbaum, a millionaire who had been imprisoned for arranging his wife’s murder. He died behind bars in 2007. Conrad Black and Garth Drabinsky, both men rich, jailed for fraud. It didn’t matter how wealthy Fletcher was. If he had anything to do with what Joel had been up to, Sarah would find a way to deal with him.