A Deeper Grave--A Thriller Read online

  Bobbie remembered feeling that way. But her aunt and uncle had insisted on a wedding. Not to mention James’s mother would have had a stroke if they’d skipped out on the big family plan. It felt like forever ago that they’d been planning their wedding.

  Marrying her had cost James everything.

  Bobbie pushed away the haunting memories. At least there was no body at this scene. That was something.

  What in the world was this guy doing with all these hostages?

  Criminal Investigation Division

  7:30 p.m.

  Holt added the photo of Deana Venable to the case board. As Bobbie predicted they now had two case boards. The sheer number of POIs and potential victims had taken on a life of its own. They had cross-checked all victims and determined the single common thread was the summer youth camp. The missing women were very different. Deana was about to start grad school. Vanessa was a college student and fitness coach. And then there was Fern, a high school student. Ages varied as much as five years and physical descriptions were all over the place. Deana was short and a little on the heavy side while Vanessa was tall and thin. The perp appeared to be selecting victims based solely on their attendance at the summer youth camp. The only upside so far was that there was no new homicide victim. Owens was still at the joint task-force briefing. Bobbie hoped the FBI or the Sheriff’s Department had found something because MPD sure as hell hadn’t found a damned thing to help find those women.

  Bauer and Devine were interviewing the staff at the restaurant where Deana had dined with friends last night. Bobbie had returned to help Holt cover the rest of the names on the list from Liddell.

  “Thank God this is the last one,” Holt grumbled.

  They had spent hours calling each name on the numerous lists to establish that the camp participant was safe and to warn her to be careful. Eventually they would interview each one face-to-face. The effort wasn’t exactly going to get them any closer to the killer but the work had to be done. As with the previous two scenes, the perp had left no evidence and so far no one had gotten a glimpse of him except Sage Parker and maybe the Chastain girl. The few hits they’d gotten on the sketch had turned out to be dead ends.

  Bobbie made the call to the first name on the final list. While she spoke with the woman on the other end, she watched Holt. The sergeant was on edge. Tired. Frustrated. They all were, but they didn’t all have a new baby at home. Bobbie’s heart squeezed at the memory of feeling so damned guilty for missing all the new things her son was doing while she worked long hours. Every day it seemed he had learned something new and grown just a little bit more. And most days during that final month they’d had together she’d felt like a zombie from lack of sleep.

  Bobbie moved on to the next name on the list. She wondered if she would ever have a family again.

  Her fingers stilled on the phone.

  Why in the world would such a thought even cross her mind? The last thing she wanted was to put herself in the position to be hurt that badly ever again. Besides, she could never replace the family she’d had with another one. It wasn’t possible. She would spend the rest of her life alone.

  She closed out the thoughts and made the calls. Call after call to women who could be the next victim of a serial killer they knew absolutely nothing about and whose next murder could happen anytime, anywhere.

  Gardendale Drive

  11:00 p.m.

  Bobbie arrived home and a minute later Nick showed up. It didn’t take much to deduce he was following her. She almost laughed at the thought. There were around three hundred women out there they needed to be watching but, this time, Bobbie wasn’t one of them.

  When they’d greeted D-Boy and stood awkwardly in her kitchen for about two minutes, Nick finally spoke. “It’s Hanover we need to watch.”

  Bobbie’s heart skipped about two beats. “I thought we agreed he wasn’t our killer.”

  “He’s not, but our killer is connected to him. The two appear to be playing each other or feeding off each other.”

  “Jesus.” She shuddered. “I toyed with a similar conclusion today. Owens and I discussed it. So, have you been watching him?” Every time she learned something new about Hanover, it was one more mark against him. What she really wanted was to get him in a room and make him tell the truth about the missing women and about her mother, but there were laws against that sort of thing.

  “I’m watching someone close to him,” Nick said. “Hanover is the true pawn, like we thought. I’m not sure he realizes what a dangerous game he’s playing.”

  Bobbie crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Nick expectantly. “Are you going to tell me who that someone is?”

  He held her gaze for a long moment before he answered. “Not yet.”

  When she would have launched a protest, he continued, “If these women die it’s on me. I can’t allow that to happen. One wrong move or word could tip the scales in the wrong direction.”

  As much as she resented the idea that he wouldn’t trust her with whatever he had learned, she understood to some degree his need for caution. Two months ago she had been in his shoes. Each murder the Storyteller committed was one more innocent victim taken to get to her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Keep looking. You’re closer than you know.”

  They stood there in silence, the tension expanding between them. There was so much Bobbie wanted to say to him, to ask him. The urge to touch him came fast and hard. She fisted her fingers into her palms and held her breath to slow her heart. His gaze dropped to her mouth and her foolish heart stumbled.

  “I should,” she blurted, “I should shower and get some sleep.”

  He nodded and looked away.

  Bobbie hurried through her shower and closed herself in her room. Staying in this small house with him night after night was growing increasingly difficult. The tension had been building exponentially since that kiss night before last. She dried her hair, wishing the blow-dryer would drown out the thoughts whirling in her head.

  She stared at herself in the mirror over her dresser. At first glance she still looked like the Bobbie she had always been. Her hair was the same. There were a few more lines bracketing her eyes. The thin scar around her neck wasn’t as prominent as it once was. But beneath the tee and lounge pants she wore there was a map of the agony she had suffered. Hideous scars that spoke of a vicious serial killer. The slight limp and the dull ache that burrowed deep into the bones of her right leg reminded her every day. Unbearable words were tattooed on her back. All of it told the story of pure evil. The scars on her wrists that underscored the defeat she had suffered to anyone who looked.

  Yet none of it told the whole story. The true loss could no longer be seen. James and Jamie were gone. Only her memories of them remained.

  Bobbie closed her eyes and thought of the man down the hall. She wanted to touch him and to know him...completely.

  When this case was over he would go. Months or years could pass before she heard from him again. Maybe she never would. Her shrink would tell her that a man like Nick Shade had long ago turned off his ability to feel. They could never share what she and James had shared. All they had was this moment and it was filled with uncertainty and pain...with fear and death.

  She didn’t need Nick Shade and he didn’t need her.

  The only thing either of them really needed was to find this killer before he finished what he’d come to Montgomery to do.

  Bobbie opened her eyes. It was true. That was the one unequivocal connection they shared—the one true mutual need. To find the bad guy and save those young women and head off any potential danger Nick might face before this was done.

  But it wasn’t all she wanted.

  I want more.

  She burst out of her room before she lost her courage. Nick was just stepping out of the bathroom
. His hair was damp. He wore nothing but jeans and they didn’t cover nearly enough to prevent her from staring at his body.

  He asked, “Is something wrong?”

  Before she could summon the right words, she walked straight up to him. “Yes.” She would not lose her nerve now. “We need to do something about this...whatever it is between us. It’s in the way. We need to...clear the air.”

  “What is it that you think we need to do?”

  That his face—his voice—remained completely impassive made her want to scream. “I want you to touch me.” She took his hand and placed it on her breast. “I want you to—”

  “Fuck you,” he said, his voice hard now. “Is that what you want?”

  Fury whipped through her. He wants to make you angry, Bobbie. He wants you to back off. “No.” She grabbed his face and went up on tiptoe, putting her lips close to his. “I want to fuck you.”

  She kissed him. Long and deep. She smoothed her hands over his chest, her body trembling at the feel of his. He held stone still but she didn’t care. She locked her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. Nothing he could say or do would change her mind.

  Her fingers delved into his damp hair and he stopped resisting and carried her to her bedroom. She reached for the switch to turn off the light. He stopped her. “We do this in the light. Not in the dark.”

  She was scarred and damaged. He knew this. Her breasts, her legs, all marked by the sadistic bastard who had devastated her life. Why would he want to see that ugliness? Was this another ploy to deter her?

  She didn’t care. She wasn’t stopping now.

  Her feet somehow found the floor and his fingers found the hem of her tee. He pulled it up and over her head. Her hair fell over her shoulders, brushing skin that was already on fire. He tossed the garment aside and reached for the waistband of her lounge pants. With painstaking slowness he peeled away the final layers covering her. For one long moment, he simply stared at her as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her, every hideous mark. Then he leaned down and kissed the jagged scar on her breast. Bobbie closed her eyes and gave herself completely over to him.

  One by one he kissed each blemish, each place evil had touched and when he finally filled her, she came apart completely.

  Twenty-Six

  There were three now.

  The last girl to join them wouldn’t stop crying. Vanessa had been trying to console her for hours but she just wouldn’t calm down. Her name was Deana.

  Deana didn’t know the man who had taken them, either, but it was the same mask-wearing asshole who’d taken Vanessa and her.

  Fern bit her lip hard to hold back a sob. She wanted out of here. Her parents were probably losing their minds. Her brother was probably like Deana and wouldn’t stop crying. Fern wanted to go home. She didn’t want this to be real.

  Her life was fucked up enough. This just wasn’t fair.

  She crawled to the back of their hole and dug around in the box for another pack of water. The packets of water and food were what Vanessa called rations, military packaged food and emergency water. She said whoever used this place must have been a survivalist or ex-military. Fern didn’t care what it was as long as this shit kept them alive. There was plenty for a few more days. Surely the police would find them soon.

  A little voice she wanted to ignore warned they might never be found. They might starve to death in this fucking hole.

  “You’re that Parker girl.”

  Deana had finally stopped sobbing. “Yeah,” Fern said.

  “I heard about you—”

  “You probably heard about me, too,” Vanessa said, cutting her off.

  Fern was glad. If the bitch had been about to say something bad about her family she might have to slap her fat face. Fern was filthy and scared. She did not want to hear anybody’s shit. Especially somebody who five minutes ago had been crying like a little baby.

  “He’s going to kill us, you all know that, right?” Deana demanded as if she knew something everyone else didn’t.

  “Not if we stay smart,” Vanessa argued. “There’s only one of him and there’s three of us.”

  “That’s right,” Fern said. “We can take him.” She thought of the motherfucker and she decided she might be able to take him all by herself.

  Deana laughed. “You are both so full of shit. Tell her the truth.”

  What the hell was she talking about? Fern wished she could see. It was completely black in this hole. Vanessa’s lighter had died.

  “Shut up,” Vanessa snarled. “You shut up or I’ll shut you up.”

  Fern’s heart started to beat too fast. Something wasn’t right. “What does she mean?”

  “He killed Vanessa’s lover,” Deana said, “when he took her.”

  Shuffling sounds echoed in the darkness. “Shut up,” Vanessa growled. She sounded like she was next to Deana now.

  Fern was confused and scared. What the hell was she talking about? “I don’t understand.”

  “He killed your parents,” Deana snapped. “It was all over the news. He gutted them like deer.”

  Fern’s stomach did a crazy flip-flop. “You’re lying.” She shook her head. Deana was just lying. She was a stupid, fat bitch. Fern had seen her big thighs when that asshole forced her into this fucking hole.

  Vanessa must have punched her. Deana grunted and then Fern heard smacking sounds and scuffling. She wished she could see and she’d get a few punches in, too. Lying bitch!

  The screech of metal sliding against metal shrilled above them. Fern froze. The hatch or whatever was opening.

  A beam of light cut through the darkness. It was dark outside, too. “Hello there.”

  Fern scrambled to the ladder and stared up at the light, her eyes squinting. “I want to talk to my parents.”

  “I need to shake things up,” he said, paying no attention to Fern’s demand. “Create a little shock and awe. Who’s game? I need a volunteer.” He waved his gun in front of the light. “Or I can choose.”

  Fern reached toward the ladder. “Me,” she cried. “I’ll do whatever you want.” She frowned. This was the first time he’d said so much. His voice sounded familiar.

  A body suddenly slammed into Fern, pushing her aside. “She’s just a kid,” Deana said. “Take me. I can do anything you want. And my parents still have money. They’ll pay whatever you ask.”

  The man chuckled. “I’ll bet they would.”

  Fern started to shove the fat bitch out of the way when a hand grabbed her from behind. She tried to pull away but Vanessa jerked Fern hard against her and away from the light.

  “Shh,” she whispered next to Fern’s ear.

  Fern started to fight her but Vanessa held her even tighter.

  “Well come on up here, Miss Venable. I’m certain you’ll do just fine.”

  Fern was sure she’d heard his voice before.

  Deana struggled up the ladder, the wood creaking and groaning under her weight. As soon as she was out of the hole that heavy old hatch fell closed again. The black darkness swallowed them once more and the slide of metal warned he had locked the damned thing.

  Fern tore loose from Vanessa. “Why did you do that?”

  “Listen to me, Fern.” Vanessa’s hand found her and pulled her close as if she was going to hug her. “He’s a very bad man. He’s not going to let Deana go. He’ll do something bad to her. You’re better off here with me. Maybe help will find us before he comes back again.”

  Fern’s body felt as if it weighed a million pounds. Her stomach hurt. “She was telling the truth, wasn’t she? He killed my parents.”

  “Yes.”

  Sobs rushed up into Fern’s throat. “What about my brother?”

  “He’s okay. I saw on the news that the pol
ice found him alive.”

  Fern had been so mean to him. Never even told him or her mom and dad she loved them. She collapsed on the ground and let the sobs overwhelm her.

  Now she was going to die and her brother would be all alone.

  Twenty-Seven

  11:59 p.m.

  Deana had done exactly as he told her. No matter that she had wanted to run screaming into the night. He’d placed a cloth bag over her head, and then he’d taped her hands together behind her back. They had walked for a few yards in what felt like grass before reaching steps. After climbing the steps, the boards of an old porch had creaked as they crossed it. Then the hinges of a screen door had whined as he’d opened it. They’d walked through a room with old-fashioned linoleum on the floor. The floor was the only thing she could see beyond the bag if she looked down just right. As he led her forward the floor turned to wood. Not the kind of wood like her parents had in their home. This was old wood. The kind found in ancient houses. He’d sat her down in what felt like a chair and then he’d fastened her legs to it.

  It took her a minute after he’d fastened her to the chair but she began to realize that he was no longer in the room. Deana tried to be strong. She really tried to think what to do. Instead, she fell apart. She moaned and sobbed when she should have been trying to get free. How could she free herself? Her arms and legs were bound and her face was covered. That was the moment when she surrendered. Urine seeped from her bladder, trickling between her thighs.

  She was going to die. She should have known he would never let her go.

  “Now.”

  He was back. Her breath caught.

  He removed the bag and studied her. “Let’s see what we can do.”

  Deana blinked. The man didn’t wear a mask now. Instead he wore a shoulder-length blond wig. She stared, startled by his face. His cheeks were as red as a clown’s. Heavy eyeliner and mascara made his eyes appear huge. Bloodred lipstick was smeared on his lips. The blue dress he wore was formfitting. He’d shaved his legs and arms and maybe his chest. If not for his voice and the Adam’s apple she would not have guessed he was a man.