Conduit (12 page)

Jillian’s palpable fear filled the
room as soon as David shut the basement door behind him. She sat cross-legged
on the cement floor with her hands restrained behind her back. She made several
garbled sounds through the duct tape covering her mouth.

Walking toward her, David waved his knife back and forth as
a greeting. He wanted her to be fully aware of her fate. She would soon find
out how long it would take to reach the end.

Attempting to stand up, she managed to get up on her knees,
but fell over and landed on her side. Tears streaked down her dirty face and she
tried to get back up, only to fall again. She gave into her helplessness, and David
watched the visible change in her eyes. They appeared almost blank, as if her
soul had already departed her body in anticipation of death. He had seen this
look
   
before and it enthralled him.
Jillian had lost all hope of escape.

Her emotionless stare would soon change again, this time
contorted by pain. With the first plunge of his knife, the first slice across
her skin, she would understand that death wouldn’t come easily. All the fear built
up in her body over the past several hours would come to the surface and mix
with pain, creating a balanced psychic force with which to reach out to Emily. As
long as Emily heard her screams in the moment she called out, he would achieve
his objective for Jillian.

David knelt beside her and teased her skin with his knife.
He ran the tip of the blade over her bare forearm and jumped it over the short
sleeve of her work uniform, up to her face. As the knife drew closer to her
eyes, they grew wider and the tears revved up to full speed.

He moistened his lips and turned the blade until it was flush
against Jillian’s cheek, all while watching the fear in her eyes. The knife bit
into her cheek with a slight amount of pressure before he pulled it back.

Jillian’s muffled scream behind the duct tape told him he accurately
assessed how loud she would be when he got started. Droplets of blood lined the
wound the knife left behind, a shallow, diagonal slit from the top of her cheek
and pointed toward her earlobe.

He tugged at the edge of the duct tape until he got a corner
loose, and yanked it off her mouth as fast as he could. She screamed again.
David closed his eyes and reveled in the idea that smallest gestures, a slip of
the knife or pulling off of duct tape, caused her every bit of pain she
deserved.

“Please don’t kill me,” Jillian said. “If you let me go I
won’t tell anyone where I was or what you look like. Just please don’t kill me.”

David lifted Jillian to a sitting position. He sat down on
the cold tiles in front of her. He had heard so many different reasons from
women why they should live, why their lives meant so much that the world could
not possibly continue turning without them in it. The excuses, all of them
pathetic and inconsequential, irritated him.

Still, he decided to allow Jillian some hope. If she had
hope, it would make her death all the sweeter. “Why, Jillian?” he asked. He
kept his tone soft and warm to lull her into a sense of security. “Why should I
spare you? What do you offer the world that is so important?”

Jillian’s eyes widened and her face came to life. “I really
don’t want to die. I’m only twenty-one and I have so much to live for. My parents
would be devastated if I died. I have a lot of friends and I just started back
at school to get my business degree. I know my job at the coffee shop doesn’t
seem that important, but it is to those who need coffee in the morning. I might
even open a coffee shop of my own someday.”

David stopped listening to her spouting out worthless
reasons to live and studied the animation in her eyes and face. She believed
her pitiful reasons for living would work with him, that she was so indispensable
to the rest of the world and deserved to live. What she didn’t realize was that
what she would accomplish with her death would overshadow everything she had
done in life.

As she droned on about all the little things that meant
nothing, the psychology behind living with such an egotistical delusion
fascinated David. His work was far more important than anything she had to say,
and therefore nothing would change her fate. He admitted his narcissism was
greater than hers, but at least he wasn’t delusional about it.

He held up his hand to silence her. Had he not done that,
she might have gone on for hours. “Thank you, Jillian, for that introspective
glimpse into the value of your life.” He tilted his head back and forth, as if
weighing what she said.

“Please don’t kill me,” she said, her begging a last attempt
to make him change his mind. “I’ll do anything you want.” She raised her
eyebrows. “Anything.”

“I’m sorry to be blunt about it, but I’m not a rapist,
Jillian. You can get rid of those notions right now. I only have one woman on
my mind these days and I’m not about to cheat on her with the likes of you.”

Her only potential bargaining tool off the table, fear
returned to her face.

“I’ll tell you what. If you do an exceptional job tonight,
and I mean you do everything I tell you to do and we accomplish our goals in a
reasonable amount of time, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll kill you quickly and
not make you suffer quite as much.”

Jillian’s eyes widened and she gasped. “But please, you said
you wouldn’t kill me if—”

David slapped her across the face. “Quit your sniveling. I
don’t care if you’re so important that you’re going to cure cancer.”

He stood up and grabbed the top of her head. He pulled her to
her feet by the strands of hair in his hand and she screamed again. “If you don’t
shut your mouth so we can get to work, I won’t hold up my end of the bargain to
end your life fast, no matter how much we accomplish tonight. Understand?”

Jillian nodded through her uncontrollable tears. Clear,
thick discharge dribbled out of her nose and onto her lips.

“Wipe your nose, you disgusting little wench.”

With her arms still tied behind her back, she used her
shoulder to wipe her nose. Phlegm smeared across her cheek and mixed with blood
from the knife cut.

“You just can’t help being filthy, can you?” David asked. He
shoved her against the wall. Lifting his knife to the bottom of her shirt, he
sliced through the material from bottom to top, through the middle of the steaming
cup of coffee on her work shirt. He pulled both sides of the shirt off her
shoulders and pushed them down her arms and over her bound hands.

His eyes considered her soft skin and her rounded breasts
held up by a black lace bra. Her work t-shirt rendered her frumpy and
shapeless, but as soon as he pulled the shirt back, his excitement grew at the
thought of slicing through such a young, beautiful body.

The tops of her breasts heaved with every frightened breath
she sucked into her lungs, reminding David of what it had been like to snuff
the life out of Julie from Montana while they had sex. The ecstasy that
overcame his body and mind when her eyes rolled back and her body fell limp was
unparalleled. Though he now took pleasure in killing through his perfected
ritual, something about his experience with Julie always stayed with him.

Before he found Emily, one of the only sparks of emotion in
his life had been Julie’s last moments alive. He not only needed to experience
that again, he wanted it. Jillian could be the start of something new for him.
He could still do what needed to be done, but being with her while her warm
blood smeared across his body would be a fitting tribute to his time with Julie.

David squashed the temptation. Waiting for Emily had been
quite difficult for him, so difficult that he momentarily considered this
snotty, dirty, filthy thing in front of him as an acceptable substitute.
Jillian was not worthy of him, nor did she even come close to Emily. Reaching
Emily was the only thing for which Jillian was good.

Slowly and deliberately, he wrapped his fingers around her
neck. He applied pressure for show, to remind her who was in charge.

Jillian trembled in his grasp and tears poured out of her
eyes. She groaned and squealed against the weight of his hand crushing her
windpipe.

David loosened his grip on her neck. “I want you to scream
Emily’s name. Scream it as loud as you can, and don’t stop until she hears you.
If you’re a good girl and she hears you quickly, I’ll make the pain stop, as
promised. But if you’re not a good girl...” A corner of his mouth twisted into
a sadistic grin. He had waited far too long to kill Jillian. Even if she reached
Emily in the next five minutes, he didn’t plan on stopping the pain anytime soon.

Emily tossed her purse and jacket on
the arm of her couch and sunk down into a plush cushion. She took a deep
breath, exhaled, and bit down on her bottom lip. She could still taste Jake’s tantalizing
goodnight kiss, and it would keep her awake all night.

After she ended her relationship with Nathan, Emily swore
she wouldn’t get involved again with another man for quite some time. She had given
so much to him that she lost part of her identity while they were together, and
she wanted some time to focus on her. Life, however, seemed to have another
plan for her and threw Jake right in her path.

Emily closed her eyes and tried to slow her racing heart. It
hadn’t stopped since he took her hand at the restaurant. The look in his eyes
when his hand enveloped hers was different than the look Nathan gave her all
those nights. She didn’t realize at the time what it was about Jake, but now
she knew. The same feelings she had for him were reflected in his eyes.

It was more than a mutual spark. Emily was drawn to him in a
way she had never experienced with Nathan, or with any other man. She didn’t
know if it was their gifts that gave weight to their already intense emotions,
or if it was good old fashioned attraction. No matter what the cause, she had
to see him again.

Their lunch date tomorrow would satisfy that need. Until
then, she would dream of that kiss. His hands pressed into the small of her
back, one of her hands seated at the bottom of his neck with the other on his
upper arm. His lips against hers in a soft kiss, but one brimming with desire. When
they parted, the brightness of the full moon illuminated his green eyes. She
wished she could stop time and exist forever in that single moment with him.

Emily opened her eyes and decided to get ready for bed. She
had more than enough on her plate with a serial killer case, hearing voices,
and automatic writings to know how to deal with a new man in her life, especially
a man who worked for Nathan. Yet another complication.

She paused when she passed her home office. She changed her
mind about bed and retrieved her laptop so she could do some more online research
on the serial killer while enjoying a late night glass of wine. With her laptop
tucked under her arm, she backtracked to the kitchen for the wine.

In the hallway, a familiar sensation tingled in the back of
her mind, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was or where she experienced
it before. She forgot all about the glass of wine and wandered back into the
living room. She placed her laptop on the coffee table and sat down on the
couch, readying her mind for whatever was to come.

Emily reached into her purse and pulled out a pen and a
receipt from the grocery store. She turned the receipt over on the flat wooden top
of her coffee table and clicked the pen into the ready position. Touching the
tip of the pen to the paper, she closed her eyes.

She emptied out every image and every thought from her mind.
Aunt Susan had been a proponent of clearing one’s mind in order to fully
magnify the gift, and she spent many hours with Emily teaching her how to do
just that. With all the hustle and bustle of life gone from her mind, she could
concentrate on what she heard and felt.

At first, there was nothing. Then a darkness containing a presence
crawled over her, claiming the shadows of her mind. Though Emily’s hand shook with
fear, she did her best to stay focused on the presence.

Her breathing deepened and with everything she had, she
tried to see into the darkness. Something evil resided there, but to understand
the voices she had to keep pressing. Emily closed off every one of her five
senses the best she could and poured all of her energy into the darkness.

Emily!

Emily’s eyes flew open against her will. The voice sounded
as if it was right next to her, but it had been only in her mind. Her rapid,
staccato breathing consumed her and, fearing hyperventilation, she slowed her
breaths.

As she regained control over her breathing, she looked at
the paper sitting under the pen. She was somewhat disappointed that no words
appeared on the paper, only random scratches and dots of ink from her shaking
hand.

Emily clicked off the pen and laid it down on the receipt.
Her hands retreated to her lap and she glanced around the room to ensure she
was alone. Although no writing appeared on the paper, the presence was still in
the room with her, as if it had escaped the confines of her mind and now
surrounded her. She suddenly wished she had not opened up her mind and allowed entry
to the invisible entity.

She made her way to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. If
she went about her normal routine, focusing on menial tasks instead of the
presence, it might disappear. She retrieved a bottle of merlot from her wine
rack and filled up her favorite wine glass almost to the top. Lifting the glass
to her lips, she drank half of the wine. She refilled her glass and replaced
the glass stopper on the wine bottle.

As she put the bottle back in its rightful place, she remembered
when the presence previously attacked her mind. She had been standing on the
front steps of the offices of Wolk, Trotter & Wolk last night, just moments
before Jake came outside to apologize to her. The person she sensed that night was
not Jake, but someone else nearby who invaded her mind the same as they had
tonight.

Emily! Help me!

Emily’s stomach churned in tandem with the screams that
filled her mind. She quickly set her wine glass down on the counter and raced
toward the guest bathroom in the hall. She lifted the toilet seat lid and
retched and coughed until she emptied the entire contents of her stomach.

She slumped down on the bathroom floor. Sweat dripped from her
face, as if she had a terrible fever. Wiping the back of her hand against her clammy
forehead, she prayed she didn’t have food poisoning from the grilled fish and
mango salsa she ate at dinner.

Emily swiped a few pieces of toilet paper off the roll and
wiped her mouth. She threw the soiled paper into the toilet, got to her knees, and
tugged on the flush handle. So as not to upset her stomach further, she took
tender steps down the hall, through her bedroom, and into the master bath.

After she brushed her teeth and washed her sweaty face, she retrieved
the thermometer from her medicine cabinet and stuck it under her tongue. She dabbed
her moist brow with a hand towel, but the sweat reappeared on her forehead. Her
limbs weakened and she sat down on the edge of her bathtub. Cramps overtook her
stomach and she bent over, clutching her abdomen.

The thermometer beeped and she removed it from her mouth.
98.9. Emily turned it over and back again. The reading in the LCD window was
the same. She shook her head. It just wasn’t possible. Sweat dripped from her
forehead and weakness claimed her body. Though every bit of food she ate at
dinner had been thrown up, her stomach remained nauseous. She had to be running
a fever.

Emily threw the broken thermometer in the trash can. She
walked back down the hallway to the kitchen to clean up the wine she assumed she
spilled when she ran for the bathroom. After she cleaned up the wine, she would
go straight to bed, without doing her planned homework. Her sudden illness needed
to disappear before her lunch date with Jake, and a good night’s sleep might
cure her.

The darkness forced its way through her mind again. Emily
turned the corner into the kitchen, but stopped before entering. Blood spilled
out from her wine glass onto the kitchen counter and down to the floor, where
it accumulated in a large pool. Thick red sprays, spurts, and spatter covered
the walls and ceiling. Emily sucked in her breath, and a scream caught in her
throat.

Before she could register the sight in her mind, a bright
light flashed in front of her eyes and the kitchen returned to normal. Tipped
over on the counter, the glass had released its contents of red wine out on the
counter and a small amount had trickled down onto the tiled floor. Nothing she
couldn’t clean up with a little bleach and a scrub brush.

Emily braced herself against the doorway, her mind once
again clear. The sweating stopped, and her stomach no longer twisted. More
noticeably, the darkness had retreated into the recesses of her mind, although
it was not entirely gone.

After the thermometer read a normal temperature and seeing
the scene in the kitchen, she ruled out bad seafood. Having heard her name
again, tonight’s events had everything to do with the serial killer case that
she and Cassie never should have taken.

Deciding it best to leave the mess in the kitchen for the
morning, Emily flipped off the kitchen light. More than ever before, she wanted
Aunt Susan back to help her filter through the madness. She had opened up her
mind just as Aunt Susan taught her, but instead of finding answers, something dangerous
crawled into her mind. It grabbed hold of her and still had not let go. Even
though she wasn’t sure how to get rid of it, she had to try. She could not suffer
through another episode like this.