Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [123]
Her breathing was uneven. Her heart raced. Even her palms were sweaty. It was over. Why did it still have such an effect on her?
“He tied me to a steel post, and then he made me watch. I watched while he tortured and mutilated two women. Actually, the second one was punishment because I closed my eyes while he was bashing in the skull of the first woman. He had warned me that he would just keep bringing out another if I closed my eyes. He seemed so oblivious to their pain, to their screams.”
God, it was hard to breathe. When would she stop seeing those pleading eyes, hearing those unbearable screams? “I watched him beat and slice and rip apart two women and I felt so…so goddamn helpless.”
She stared out at the moon and stars. “I was so close…” She rubbed her shoulders. She could still feel it. “I was so close I could feel their blood splatter me, along with pieces of their brains, chips of their bones.”
“But you did get him?”
“Yes. We got him. Only because an old fisherman heard the screams and called 911. We certainly didn’t get him on my account.”
“Maggie, you’re not responsible for those women.”
“Yes, I know that.” Of course, she knew, but it didn’t erase the guilt. She wiped at her eyes, disappointed to find her cheeks already wet. Then she stood, much too abruptly but gratefully closing the subject.
“That reminds me,” she said, trying to resume normalcy. “I got another note.” She dug out the crumpled envelope and handed it to Nick.
He pulled out the card, read it, and leaned back against the wall. “Jesus, Maggie. What do you suppose this means?”
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Maybe he’s just having some fun.”
Nick untangled his legs and stood without assistance of the wall or desk. “So what do we do now?”
“How do you feel about raiding graveyards?”
CHAPTER 75
Timmy watched the lantern’s flame dance. It was amazing how such a small slit of fire could light up the entire room. And it gave off heat, too. Not like the kerosene heater, but it did feel warm. It reminded him again of the camping trips he and his dad had taken. It seemed like such a long time ago now.
His dad hadn’t been an experienced camper. It had taken them almost two hours to set up the tent. The only fish they had caught were tiny throw-backs they ended up keeping when they had gotten too hungry to wait for a bigger catch. Then his dad had melted his mom’s favorite pot by leaving it in the fire too long. Still, Timmy hadn’t minded the mistakes. It was an adventure he got to share with his dad.
He knew his mom and dad were mad at each other. But he didn’t understand why his dad was mad at him. His mom had told him his dad still loved him. That he didn’t want anybody to know where he was because he didn’t want to pay them any money. That still didn’t explain why his dad didn’t want to see him.
Timmy stared at the flame and tried to remember what his dad looked like. His mom had put away all the pictures. She said she burned them, but Timmy had seen her looking through some of them a few weeks ago. It had been late at night, when she thought Timmy was asleep. She was up drinking wine, looking at pictures of the three of them and crying. If she missed him that bad, why didn’t she just ask him to come home? Sometimes Timmy didn’t understand grown-ups.
He brought his hands up to the lantern’s glass to feel its glow. The chain attached to his ankle clinked against the metal bedpost. Suddenly, he stared at it, remembering the metal pot his dad had ruined on the campfire. The chain links weren’t thick. How hot did metal need to get to bend? He didn’t need to bend it that much—a quarter of an inch at the most.
His heart raced. He grabbed the glass, but snatched