The Watched (CSI Reilly Steel #4) (20 page)

Daniel
had been in his shower when she’d returned. Now, as she tried to decide how best to style her still-damp hair, she heard him behind her. ‘You don’t have to come to the memorial, you know.’ He stood in the doorway to the guest room. He was already dressed in his suit, looking uncomfortable.

Judging by the number of times
Reilly had seen him in a suit and tie, she was willing to bet it was the event that was making him uncomfortable, not the attire.

Not that she could blame him. Things like this were never easy. If anyone understood that, it was her.
She had never really been a big fan of cemeteries, even before half of her immediate family ended up in one.

She’d
certainly never understood people who thought it was somehow mysterious and alluring to hang out around gravestones, to be seen to be grieving, as if grieving itself wasn’t enough.

For
her, a cemetery meant one thing; she was visiting her mother and sister’s graves. Nothing alluring about that.

‘
If you’re going to be there for Alice Young then I’m going to be there for you.’ Reilly tried not to let her own anxiety seep through. She didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to sit in some church while a pastor extolled the virtues of a young woman she didn’t know and tried to make sense of a senseless death. But she meant what she said: someone needed to be there for Daniel.

At the service, s
he sat between Todd and Daniel, resisting the impulse to reach over and take Daniel’s hand when she saw how tightly he was clenching his jaw. She recognized that expression well, had used it herself – the desperate attempt to hold back tears, to be strong when everything inside wanted to break, was already broken.

A grim determination to find
the man responsible filled her afresh.

And she didn’t just want
the guy found, Reilly realized as she looked at the grieving mother, she wanted him to pay.

Later that day, Todd frowned as
he entered the bedroom.

The living room had been trashed, the floor filthy with debris. The bedroom, by contrast, was relatively empty. T
he only things inside the eight-by-eight room were a bare mattress, the body and the arrows holding the body in place.

He swore to himself, sorry that he hadn’t taken Bradley’s offer of taking the day off after the memorial service this morning. If he had he could have avoided this.

The victim was young, probably early twenties, Todd surmised. Pretty with honey-blond hair. Average height, average weight. She’d been stripped down to her bra and panties, but Todd was willing to bet that there’d been no sexual assault. A neat pile of clothes sat on the floor, splattered with blood. He snapped on his gloves. ‘What do you think?’

‘
Robin Hood gone bad?’ Bradley reached out a gloved finger to touch the end of one of the arrows.

‘
Robin Hood had better aim,’ Todd countered absently.

The mattress itself had been hit twice, the girl four times.
One in the mattress (an apparent miss), another almost dead center in the torso, and the other … right through the eye-socket. Based on the volume of blood and the placement of the lower arrow, a few vitals had been lacerated and the girl had bled out. It was far from the most gruesome scene he’d seen, but it was enough to make Todd feel tired.

‘A
nother one of our movie-maker’s victims or just a pissed-off ex?’ Bradley directed his question to Detective Reed. ‘Maybe a kid who’s been watching too many movies?’

‘
No cameras at this one?’ Todd asked. He carefully skirted a puddle of blood to get a closer shot.

‘Nothing that implies a movie re-enactment so far.’ T
he detective took a step toward the corpse. ‘But there’s something weird about this anyway. You don’t see too many deaths by bow and arrow. Hunting accident with a crossbow, sure, but nothing like this. Nearly twenty-five years on the force and I’ve never seen anything like this.’

‘Maybe it’s our guy after all.’
Todd narrowed his eyes, looking over the scene again. There was a familiarity to the theatrics. A deliberateness to the placement of the arrows. ‘Maybe he didn’t film this because it wasn’t the right scene.’

‘
But unless it’s out of necessity, he seems to film all of the murders, does his whole edit and video stream thing somewhere else.’ Bradley crouched down for a closer look at the floor. ‘He always has a reason to kill. It’s either a scene he’s set up, or to protect himself. This might look like it could be one of his death scenes, but there are no cameras. It doesn’t look like there’s a motive here.’

‘
Sure there is,’ Todd said grimly. It had taken him a minute, but he knew what had happened here.

‘
And what’s that?’

H
e snapped a picture of the body. ‘Practice.’

He took a step back and admired his make-up job. This scene had been in the back of his mind for some time, but he’d thought it too childish. It shouldn’t have been easy to find the right shade this far from Halloween, but when he’d run across it at a craft store, he’d known it was a sign that he had to do it.

And of course it had been all too easy to find his cast member. With the festival in town it was like shooting fish in a barrel. This one seemed to have a little more spark than the other airheads he’d been working with though, and he wondered if she actually had the makings of a true celluloid star after all. Too bad they wouldn’t get to find out.

He set the black hat on the dark-haired girl’s head and straightened her dress. He’d never understood why this movie had been such a hit with families. Personally, it had given him nightmares for weeks. He still couldn’t watch it. Even the songs made him cringe. The sequel had been even worse. And the stage play? He shivered and then scowled.

Time to get this done.

‘Wake up.’ He grabbed the girl’s arm. If he was being truthful this death scene was less about art and more about overcoming childhood fears. Then again, weren’t most movies just writers, actors and directors working out their own various issues?

Her
eyes widened when she saw him approach and she screamed, the sound muffled by the gag in her mouth. He’d take that out in a minute, once he gave her the stage directions.

‘In a moment,’ he
murmured, pitching his voice low, ‘I’m going to take out the gag and let go of your arm. If you scream, if you try to run, I’m going to use this on you.’ He pushed back his jacket to reveal the cattle prod. Part of him kind of hoped she would try to run. ‘I’m not going to ask you to undress or touch you at all. I just want you to stand right there and don’t run. Do you understand?’

She nodded frantically and his grip on her arm loosened. He pulled her to her feet and waited to see if she’d try to break away. When she didn’t, he released her arm and reached behind her to untie her gag. As he pulled away the tie, she whimpered, but didn’t scream. He held up the make-up wedge. ‘I have to finish this first.’

As he covered the last of her face with the stage make-up, he wished all actors were this compliant. Her entire body was trembling but she never tried to run, didn’t complain as he tilted her head this way and that.

Yep, definitely a fighter.

It was a pity he wouldn’t be able to use her again.

He took a step back and paused, his hand ready to draw if she tried to escape. She didn’t move, just stood where he’d left her, bottom lip trembling, tears coursing down her cheeks. When he reached his spot behind the camera, he pulled on a pair of gloves and bent to pick up his bucket.

The expression on her face said she thought she knew what was coming. One couldn’t exactly be dressed as she was and not expect to get liquid thrown at her face. She didn’t realize that it wasn’t water until it hit her and she screamed.

Her hands went to her face as the acid melted the green make-up alongside her flesh. He couldn’t help but grin as then, with no prompting from him, she screamed. A tortured, helpless screech; brilliantly theatrical in its delivery. Not too unlike the actual one from the movie.

He watched her crumple heavily to the ground and smiled.

One less childhood nightmare to worry about.

CHAPTER
22

Back at the lab,
Todd realized he’d been staring at the wall for nearly twenty minutes. He and Bradley hadn’t spoken for the entire ride back from the crime scene.

As soon as they’d arrived, he’d hurried to the bathroom and relieved his churning stomach of what little he’d eaten that day. He was fairly sure that Bradley had done the same. Even if he hadn’t, he accepted the ginger ale
Todd had purchased from the vending machine and started drinking it almost right away.

No one else had been in the lab when they’d come in but that hadn’t been surprising. The only cars that had still been in the
parking lot were theirs and Emilie’s. Everyone else had finished for the day.

‘Go home.’
Emilie’s voice drew both Todd and Bradley’s attention. He turned toward the younger technician.

‘What?’ Todd was startled.

‘I don’t know what was at that crime scene, and I don’t want to know.’ Her voice was firm. ‘But you look like hell. Get out of here. Do whatever you need to do to relax – go get a beer, whatever, and we’ll tackle the evidence tomorrow.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Todd saw Bradley nodding. ‘She’s right
, Todd. You should start again tomorrow, with a clear head. It’s been a shitty day.’

But Todd didn’t want a beer, and he certainly didn’t want to go home to his empty apartment.
After what he’d been through that day, he wanted – needed – to spend time around people he cared about.

Saying
a reluctant goodbye to his workmates, he got in the battered Mustang and drove in the direction of Clearwater Beach.

Reilly
drew her arms tightly around her shoulders, even though the chill she felt had nothing to do with the temperature. The memorial service and subsequent visit to the cemetery had brought too many memories back to the surface and she knew she’d been unusually quiet afterward.

Todd had arrived shortly after dinner, looking tired and defeated – and Reilly, still feeling slightly uncomfortable after their dinner last night,
had exchanged pleasantries before the awkwardness got to be too much and she’d excused herself to the guest room.

She’d showered and tried to sleep. Her body had been – and still was – exhausted, but her mind hadn’t stopped racing. No matter how hard she’d tried to sleep, she hadn’t been able
to stop thinking that there had to be something more she could do to help track down the movie-maker and even more bodies piling up. The guy seemed relentless, she thought, recalling Todd’s account of the callous brutality of the latest murder with the arrows, and that awful scene from
American History X
.

Given this
, she considered the possibility that there might be some kind of racial supremacist message behind the perp’s actions, but seeing as he’d been indiscriminate with his victims up to then, and they’d found no link between any of them, this was probably a long shot. With the kind of movies chosen, the sick bastard didn’t seem to be sending any particular message other than he considered himself to be some kind of ‘artist’.

After nearly an hour, she’d given
up on the sleep idea and reached for her laptop.

Now,
at midnight, she was deep into the world of online snuff sites, not exactly the kind of thing that Hollywood dreams were made of. She’d seen a lot of messed-up things in her time, but her opinion of humankind was slipping ever further downhill as she dredged through fantasies that turned her stomach. Now she was sure she wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. Or eat anything for the next week.

She clicked on an
other link, this one promising the ‘long-awaited completion of one of the greatest horror scenes of all time’. As it started, she glanced at the title.
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
. Another one of her roommate’s favorites. She remembered now why they hadn’t been roommates for very long.

The moment she saw the cut, her heart started pounding. She’d found another one. And, as she watched, something else about this film caught her eye. She grabbed her phone and was dialing Todd’s
cellphone number before she realized the time. Was he still here at the house or had he travelled back to Tampa to spend the night?

‘Reilly . . .’
Todd’s voice held a note of concern, but no sleep. ‘I’m just down the hallway. What’s going on?’

‘Meet you downstairs in five.’

Throwing on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, she tiptoed down the wooden staircase, hoping not to wake Daniel. Two insomniacs in one house were enough.

Todd was already waiting, clad in a white shirt and boxers.

‘Have you ever seen
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
?’ she asked, without preamble.

He
swore, immediately understanding.

‘
I just found a spliced clip from it,’ she said.

‘
So we’re looking for a lot of small body parts this time?’ Todd sounded as if he were going to be sick.

Reilly
didn’t blame him, but bypassed any comment. While he’d made an important point, there was something else about the finding that directly affected the investigation. ‘Those skin cells you found on the gloves from before, didn’t you say that Emilie pointed out that there was something wrong with them?’

‘Well, t
hey were old, she said. Not as in the person they originated from was old, more like they’d degenerated over time.’ Todd’s voice held the question he didn’t ask.

Reilly’s tone was grim. ‘
In the movie, the killer—’

He
finished the thought, his voice full of unashamed horror. ‘He wears a mask made of human skin.’

‘
In just a short period of time, he’s moved from setting up the scenes to being an active participant.’ Reilly wrapped her free arm around her bare knees and hugged them to her chest, feeling a sudden chill despite the Florida heat. ‘I don’t think these were his first murders, but they were the first he’d filmed directly carrying out the killings, and I think he likes being in front of the camera. He’s escalating, Todd.’

‘So w
hat’s his end game?’

She shook her head, her gaze staring at distant shadows
in the darkness. ‘I don’t know, but it can’t be good.’

CHAPTER 23

He entered the storage unit and pulled down the door behind him. Then strode across the narrow space to where his prized acquisition was sitting, and wrinkled his nose as he grew closer.

The man’s fear hung in the air, far fouler than the inevitable waste that came with being kept in an enclosed space for
a few days. For someone who had created some of the most memorably horrific scenes ever to grace the big screen, Drew Sheldon didn’t seem to have much fortitude.

‘Are you finding the accommodation more to your liking now that you’ve realized I’m not going to kill you?’
He sat on the room’s lone chair and faced the middle-aged man on the cot. ‘Though, I must say, Mr Sheldon, you’re looking a bit the worse for wear. I know this isn’t exactly the Hilton, but I did provide you with a bucket of water, soap and clean clothes.’ His gaze ran over the unkempt creature whose own daughter probably wouldn’t have recognized him. ‘Have some respect for yourself.’

Sheldon glared back at him. The writer’s dark eyes were bloodshot, his gray hair matted with dirt. His clothes were filthy, half of his nails ragged and broken.

He had expected a slew of questions when he’d arrived. An attack wasn’t possible thanks to the thick chain he had purchased at a local hardware store, but an attempt wouldn’t have been out of the question.

He’d considered not using a chain, but he had to be sure Sheldon wouldn’t escape.

The writer was essential to the plan.

He felt bad that Sheldon’s ankle would be raw by the time they were done, but the only other option that had come to mind involved a piece of wood and a sledgehammer.
He had opted for the less violent solution. Although, the irony of hobbling a man named Sheldon did appeal to his dramatic side. He’d always been a big fan of the work of Stephen King.

Drew Sheldon didn’t say a word. In fact, he looked a bit petulant, which amused though didn’t surprise him. Most big-wigs in Hollywood considered themselves so important that they would react to a situation like this with a sullen, narcissistic mentality. Oh well, small talk wasn’t necessary, just polite.

Time to move on.

They had a lot to do and it was only a matter of time before either the detectives or that profiler guy and his blond sidekick he’d seen at the hotel started connecting the murders to the missing writer.