Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [115]
If at all possible, he wanted to save “her” until last. After all, she was the most important one. At least she was to him. All he had to do was close his eyes in order to see her as she had been in Midnight Masquerade. His body reacted the way it always did when he thought of her naked beauty being ravished by other men.
The voice inside his head, that incessant, condemning voice, tormented him. Look at her. So beautiful on the outside and yet so very rotten inside. Black-hearted rotten. Watch her. See the way she moves, the way she talks, the way she smiles. She likes what those men do to her. And she enjoys what she does to them.
Covering his ears with his hands, he tried to shut out the voice. But he couldn’t.
Stop fighting it. Listen to what he says. He knows the truth. She is evil. They’re all evil. Once you’ve killed every one of them, the voice will stop. He won’t ever say those things again. There will be no reason for him to make you listen.
He closed his eyes and dropped his hands from his ears. The voice softened to a whisper.
Look at her breasts. Full and round and lush. Her nipples are tight and berry pink and begging to be sucked. Watch the way she spreads her legs, unashamed to reveal the most secret part of her body to those men and to every man who watches her. Listen to the way she moans and sighs as they do all manner of unspeakable things to her.
As the voice spoke to him, the movie played inside his mind as vividly as if he was watching the newly released DVD. He had seen Midnight Masquerade so many times that the images were seared into his brain.
By daybreak, a dozen deputies, along with two bloodhounds and their trainer, were scouring the woods behind Lorie’s house. Mike had assigned two deputies to stay behind and guard Lorie and Cathy and keep the back porch cordoned off as a crime scene, while he and Jack joined the search party. He had spoken to Wade Ballard less than half an hour ago and the chief had offered Mike however many Dunmore police officers he needed.
“If we don’t find Shelley Gilbert within an hour, I’ll contact you again and you can send your people to help us widen the search.”
While he’d been on the phone with the police chief, Jack had called Maleah to inform her that Shelley was missing and they felt certain foul play was involved.
“Maleah is going to contact Nicole Powell,” Jack said. “I expect the agency will send in some people, even if we find Shelley alive and well.”
“What are the odds of that happening?” It had been a rhetorical question. Mike knew that the odds were not in their favor. If that was Shelley Gilbert’s blood on Lorie’s back porch, then more than likely the Powell agent was dead.
“Do you think the Midnight Killer overpowered Shelley?” Jack asked as they entered the woods.
“Hell if I know,” Mike replied. “If he did kill her, then why did he drag her off into the woods? Why didn’t he just leave her on the back porch? And why didn’t he kill Lorie when he had the chance, the way he did the others?”
They heard the bloodhounds’ mournful wails off in the distance.
“They’ve picked up the scent,” Jack said.
“I don’t think the Midnight Killer is involved in Shelley Gilbert’s disappearance. It doesn’t fit his MO.”
“Yeah, I agree, but who else would want her out of the way?”
Mike shook his head. “I’ve got no idea.”
The deeper they treaded into Jernigan’s Woods, stomping across knee-high grass in the open areas and through damp sludge and over mossy tree roots, the more distinctly they heard the dogs. Their barking continued nonstop as Mike and Jack caught up with the deputies who were following the hounds. As they approached the circle of uniformed officers surrounding the dogs that had stopped near the riverbank, Mike and Jack slowed their pace.
“They must have found something,” Mike said to Jack, and then called out to Buddy Pounders, who had accompanied the hounds’ trainer. “What is it? Have they found something?”
“Yes, sir. I’m afraid they have,” Buddy said.
Mike and Jack exchanged this-can’t-be-good glances