A Killer's Watch (8 page)

He
could come back at any second. The man who made
her skin crawl, more than the mice she heard scurrying around the floor.

She wasn’t stupid, she knew what he would do to her. The
look in his eyes when he touched her said it all.

She wanted to fight him, claw his eyes out, but her
struggles made him laugh. So, she did her best to lie still.

Listening intently for any sounds of life, other than the
mice, Allison heard nothing but the drip, drip, drip of water, seeping through
the cracks in the concrete. The dripping liquid only amplified her thirst,
increased the longing for any comforts of home.

Home.

Mom.

Ashley.

They must be going crazy with worry. Did they find the car?
Her mom worked so hard to get the second car, when Ashley turned seventeen.
Their dad refused to help, said he did enough by paying child support.

Dad.

She used to think of him all the time, wished for him to
come home, or at least show up once in a while. But he never did. Aside from
the occasional phone call, Ashley and Allison never saw, or heard from, their
father.

“
Good riddance to bad
rubbish,
”
”
 her grandmother used to say.
But it still hurt to know that he didn’t want his daughters in his life.

Not willing to spend one more moment thinking of him, when
he probably didn’t even care that she was missing, Allison focused on the
camera.

The light was still blinking, so it must be on. Was someone
watching her? Could they hear her, too? Maybe she could talk to them, or him.
Convince him to let her go.

It was worth a shot
,
she thought.

“My name is Allison Wells. I’m sixteen years old and live in
Marsville, Kansas. I’m a sophomore in high school. Please, let me go. I won’t
tell anyone who you are, or where I am. How could I, I don’t know. Please,
please, let me go. My mother and my sister need me. I want to go home.”

~~~

Graham put on headphones as soon as he saw that Allison was
speaking. His mother was in the parlor, and he doubted that she could hear, but
he refused to take chances.

Listening to Allison beg for release, he smiled, knowing
that his viewers would love hearing her voice.

Just as he did.

Reducing the image of Allison on the cot, he focused his
attention on another girl, preparing to leave for school, earlier that morning.
She reminded him the most of Aubrey, with her big, blue eyes, and her petit
e
little body. He watched, and re-watched the footage
of her dressing, felt the excitement rise within him, each time she came near
the webcam.

He would take her today, as soon as she arrived home from
school. The news of Shelby’s death would be rampant by then, but the good folks
of Fremont, Missouri, would not be afraid. The tragedy happened in Kansas, to a
girl from Iowa. Nothing for them to be concerned with.

His smile faltered a bit when he remembered the preparations
necessary, before he could bring another girl into the cellar. He needed
another cot, and two additional cameras. He should also send a message to his
subscribers, telling them of the new options, and apologizing for postponing
their date with Allison this morning.

He would offer twelve hours free surveillance of both girls,
before he increased the price. That should sufficiently appease them.

 Satisfied with the decision, he sent the message, then
locked down his system. It wouldn’t do for his mother to discover his secrets.

~~~

“A high school kid spotted her on his way to school this
morning. He lives about a mile down this road,” the officer on duty explained.
“The coroner should be finishing up shortly, you can speak to him then.”

“Thank you, officer.” Ethan shook the man’s hand, before
returning to Jeri’s side.

“It’s the same M.O.,” Jeri told him. “Her body was barely
off the road. He wanted someone to find her, soon.”

“Could you identify the body?”

“No, the locals are keeping everyone but the coroner at bay.
I didn’t want to ruffle any feathers.”

“Understood.” Ethan took a moment to glance around. “This
looks just like the other two dump sites.”

“Yes, I’d say he definitely knows the area.”

“Do you think he’s from here?”

“I doubt it, not a lot of wealth in Clevestone. Not much
water, either. Aside from a public swimming pool, and a private pond or two,
there’s not a property that fits what we know about his lair. He could have
been raised here, I suppose.”

“Are you two waiting on me?” the coroner asked as he joined them.

“Yes, Sir. Good to see you again, but not under these
circumstances,” Ethan shook his hand.

“I didn’t want to see another one, but there she is. Poor
thing, not more than fifteen. It’s horrible what she endured.”

“Are the wounds consistent with the first two women?” Jeri
asked, as Ethan scrolled to find a picture of Shelby on his phone.

“Yes, sorry to say. But this girl was also assaulted,
sexually. Bastard!” he spat.

“Is this the girl?” Ethan held up Shelby’s image.

“Yes, it is. Who is she?”

“Her name is Shelby Torrent, she went missing from Iowa, two
days ago. I’ll send you the information.”

“Well, that makes things a little easier.” The doctor shook
his head, shifting his bag from one hand to the other.

“Will you send us a copy of the autopsy report? As well as
any preliminary findings?” Ethan asked.

“Don’t see why not. The more people looking for this
bastard, the better.” Tipping his hat, the doctor shuffled away, shoulders
slumped as if he bore the weight of the world.

“This place looks like something out of Gone with the Wind,”
Monique commented as she and Chloe pulled up to an antebellum mansion.

“It sure does, but it seems out of place as we’re not in the
South,” Chloe answered.

“Do you want to handle this one?” Monique asked, willing to
let Chloe take over.

“Sure, we’re just asking a stranger if we can take a look
inside their home, to make sure that they’re not a murderer.”

“That’s not asking for much,” Monique smiled.

“I don’t think so,” Chloe agreed, pressing the doorbell.

Within moments, the leaded glass door opened to reveal a
stone-faced man, dressed in an undertaker-black suit.

“May I help you?” he inquired, traces of boredom in his
tone.

“Yes, we’re from EJB Global,” Chloe flashed her credentials,
“and we’d like to take a look in your basement.”

“Who is it, Thomas?” The delicate voice of an elderly woman
floated toward them from inside the home.

“One moment,” Thomas pushed the door to, but did not close
it. They could hear him speaking through the sliver of an opening.

“It’s two women, madam, from something called EJB Global.
They wish to inspect the basement.”

“Do let them in, Thomas. I’ve been asking Graham to have
someone check for mold down there. My friend, Mrs. Watson, had a terrible time
removing mold from her cellar, don’t you know.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The door flew open to reveal Thomas standing off to the
side.

“You may enter,” he told them.

“Thanks,” Chloe answered, looking at Monique for direction.
Should they pretend ignorance, and gain entry to the basement? Or should they
come clean about why they were really there, and risk being turned away?

“May we speak with Mrs. Grant?” Monique asked, hoping that
she remembered the correct name of the homeowner.

“Please show them in, Thomas,” Belinda Grant commanded.

“Right this way, please,” Thomas closed the door and stepped
in front of them.

As they followed the butler into the parlor, Chloe glanced
at Monique for direction. Monique nodded.

“Hello, Mrs. Grant, I’m Chloe Carson and this is Monique
Pellier. We’re with EJB Global.” Once again, Chloe flashed her identification.
“I’m sorry, but we’re not here to inspect for mold,” Chloe continued with a
smile. “We’re actually working with the FBI.”

“Oh, my, the FBI, how intriguing. What could the FBI
possibly want with my basement?” Belinda Grant did not offer them a seat.

“Probably nothing, Ma’am,” Chloe answered, still smiling.
“We’re helping them with a house by house search. Are you aware that two
teenagers have gone missing from the area?”

“Oh, my goodness, no. And you think they are hiding in my
basement?” Belinda appeared confused.

“No, Ma’am, not really. But we have reason to think the
girls may be holed up somewhere in a concrete room. We’re doing a search of all
the homes in the area with basements. Do you mind if we take a quick look?”
Chloe’s smile never faltered, even in the face of Belinda Grant’s frown.

“Of course you must look. I understand that you need to
eliminate even the most unlikely places. I watch Law and Order,” she finished proudly,
thinking that it made her current.

“Thank you, Mrs. Grant,” Chloe did her best to keep her
polite smile from breaking into a grin. “You have a lovely home,” she glanced
around quickly, to prove her point.

“Thank you.”

“Do you live here alone?” Monique asked. “Besides Thomas, of
course,” she nodded at the butler, hovering in the doorway.

“No, this is actually my son’s home,” Belinda answered, her
pride growing. “He takes such good care of me, insists that I live here, for as
long as I like. My friend Sarah’s son put her in one of those retirement homes,
but not my Graham. He often says how much he appreciates my company.”

“I’m sure he does,” Monique agreed sincerely. “It must be
nice for you, to be so close to your grandchildren.” Nodding at a group of
framed photos, some with children, Monique asked a question, without asking a
question.

“Oh, no. Those aren’t my grandchildren, those are my
great-nieces and great-nephews.” Sighing, Belinda looked toward the photos for
a moment. “No, Graham has not yet found the right woman, so I’m still waiting
for grandchildren.”

“I’m sorry, I just assumed,” Monique apologized. “Well,
we’ll just hope that he finds the right woman soon, so you can enjoy your
grandchildren while you’re young.”

“Yes, thank you,” Belinda patted her gray coiffed hair.
“You’re very kind. Thomas will show you to the basement, now. I wish you the
best of luck finding those poor girls.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Grant.” Chloe answered, then followed the
butler out of the room. She waited until they were out of earshot before speaking
to Thomas.

“Thank you for taking the time for us,” she began. “I’m sure
that you have your hands full, managing a house this size.”

Thomas nodded, but said nothing.

“Is Mr. Grant at home? Perhaps we can meet him, explain why
we’re here,” Monique asked.

“No, Mr. Grant is out. Here is the door to the basement.
Pardon me if I leave you to it.” Thomas opened the locked door with a set of
keys he pulled from his pocket. “The light switch is on the left.”

“Certainly, thank you. We won’t be long,” Chloe answered,
surprised that he didn’t escort them down.

Flipping the lights on did little to illuminate the stairs,
but the space became brighter as they descended. The ceilings were low,
compared to the twelve-foot height of the upper floors, but they were still
high enough for both women to stand.

“There’s nothing here,” Monique turned in a circle when they
reached the concrete floor.

“That’s probably why Thomas didn’t mind us coming down here
alone,” Chloe commented, listening for sounds of dripping water. There were
none.

“We may as well walk the perimeter, check it out while we’re
here. There may be a doorway that we can’t see from here,” Monique told her,
then followed the wall away from Chloe.

“I’ll go this way,” Chloe turned in the opposite direction.
“Why would you have all of this space, and not even use it. It’s great for
storage.”

“Maybe they have nothing to store. Did you notice the
furnishings? Everything was an antique, but still in excellent shape.”

“Surely they have a Christmas tree, or garden tools,
something that normal people store in cellars.”

“There’s an attic, or three, I’m sure,” Monique answered,
finding nothing but more space as she walked. “And they probably have a
gardener, so no need for tools.”

“True.” Chloe stopped talking as she got farther away from
Monique. Searching this basement was certainly easier than the other two they
had searched so far. Most people had spaces like this crammed with forgotten furniture,
boxes of trinkets, old books, and anything else that no longer fit their
lifestyle.

“There’s nothing here, let’s go,” Monique said, as the women
met in the middle of the opposite wall.

“Nope, nothing here,” Chloe agreed.

Thomas met them at the top of the stairs, his face devoid of
expression.

“Thank you, we found nothing,” Chloe told him.

“Of course not,” he responded. “Follow me, please.”

He led them to the front door via a different route, one
that did not pass through the parlor. Both women noted that the doors to
Belinda Grant’s sitting room were closed.

“Please thank Mrs. Grant for us,” Chloe told him, as he
opened the door.

Without a word, he nodded and closed the door behind them.

“Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry,” Chloe mumbled as they
crossed the wide front porch.

“What?” Monique asked, not familiar with the expression.

“Nothing, he wasn’t sorry to see us go.”

“No, but at least we can chalk this place off the list.”

“Yep, one more down, fourteen to go.”

~~~

“That never gets easier.” Jeri placed the phone on the car
seat beside her. “She’s destroyed, the whole family is destroyed. One son of a
bitch, intent on his own disgusting depravities, destroys the lives of so many
people.”