Shadow of Vengeance (54 page)

He’d expected a flicker of self-doubt, but had been wrong. Junior straightened her spine, then tossed the bat aside. “Those mistakes you accused me of weren’t mistakes. I purposefully took Sean Davis because I knew who his sister worked for. Yeah, Sean bragged about the fancy private investigation firm she worked for and I wanted her involved. I wanted you worried and nervous, but you, in all your pompous arrogance, didn’t blink an eye. So I had to up the ante. I drugged the security guard with the same stuff I used on the boys, then used his truck. I could have let him live, because I know I didn’t leave any evidence behind, but that was just too easy. Did I mention that I left a note on Bill?”

Fury replaced his fear. “You stupid bitch.”

She wagged a finger. “I’d say I’m far from stupid. Guess what else I did. I took a picture of Josh hanging against the wall, and
pretended
it was sent to the sheriff.” She gave him a big grin. “Brilliant, huh?”

Although he seethed with hatred, he returned the smile. “No, Junior. You set yourself up as my accomplice. You said yourself that the state police were involved. Did you consider that they would analyze this note you left behind or the photograph? A handwriting analysis will prove—”

“Jack shit,” she shouted. “It’ll prove nothing. Yes, they’ll be looking for an accomplice, but they won’t be looking for me. I’ve already set someone else up to take the fall, and it’s working out quite nicely.”

“How nice for you.”

“Thank you, I thought so.” She pulled the knife from her coat pocket. “Now that you know all the gory details, let’s get…gory. Who should I start with? Your precious pledge or the private dick?”

Owen played opossum, and fought the urge to move. Xavier Preston had bound his hands and wrists. Preston’s daughter—Melissa/Holly—had taken him by surprise in the SUV and had cut and bludgeoned him. He’d lost blood. How much? He wasn’t sure if the ache in his head and sheer grogginess was due to the baton she’d cracked against his skull or the wounds to his thigh and arm. Either way, it didn’t matter. At this point, he needed to find a way to stop her before she killed him and the boy.

“Well,” Melissa began, “I’m thinking I should go for your precious pledge. He’s been pissing me off all week.”

“He’s done nothing to you,” the dean said, his tone desperate but laced with anger.

“And you’ve done nothing to him,” she countered. “You talked a big game, but instead all you did was hose him off and feed him gross food. Oooo, scary.” She laughed. “What’s even scarier is that I get the impression you actually like him. Hell, I think that even if I didn’t fuck you over, you’d feel more for him than me. So, yeah. I think Josh needs to go first.”

Metal scraped against rock. Owen couldn’t see her from his position on the floor, but pictured her running the blade of the butcher’s knife along the wall next to Josh.

“Wait,” she said. “You never told me…how do you normally kill your pledges?” When the dean didn’t answer, her footsteps echoed on the floor as she moved into his line of sight. She picked up the bat. “Do you need a little encouragement? Or are you going to answer me?”

“I strangled them,” the dean shouted from behind him.
 

Owen slid his eyes closed when she walked past him. “Boring. Effective, but boring. Seeing as how this has ultimately become
my
Hell Week, I’m going to have to spice things up…one slice at a time.”

“Junior—”

“Stop calling me that! I fucking hate it. I hate you.” Drawing in labored breaths, she moved back to the corner of the room. Owen slid one eye open just as she picked up a crowbar. “I used a tire iron on my mom. My trusty dusty knife, too.” She waved the blade. “Right now, I think I could do something rather interesting with both of these.”
 

When she moved out of view, Owen inwardly cursed. He lay only a foot away from the ladder, but without being able to move his hands or feet, he couldn’t risk making a move just yet. He’d have to wait until she went to work on Josh. While she was distracted, he would find a way to loosen the rope.

The boy’s screams pierced his ears and resonated throughout the basement. Taking a risk, Owen curled onto his right side and brought his knees to his stomach. Excruciating pain shot through his right forearm and impaled his brain, making him dizzy and nauseous. Sucking in a deep breath, he used his injured arm and shoulder to shove himself to his knees. His left leg throbbed as fresh blood soaked his jeans. He quickly shifted his body and turned his back to the ladder, then held back a gasp.

Blood oozed from the slice Melissa had made along the center of Josh’s chest. With her back still to him, he glanced at the dean, who stared directly at him, then nodded toward the corner. Owen looked, and spotted his gun on the workbench. He had no idea if anyone knew where he was, or who had taken him. As far as he was concerned, he was on his own. With retrieving the gun his sole focus, he kept his eyes on Melissa’s back, widened one leg, shuffled the other one until both legs met, then moved his bound feet.
 

“I’m not sure how doctors perform chest surgery,” Melissa said. “But I’m assuming they pull back the skin and crack the ribs, right?” She glanced over her shoulder to the dean. “I thought it would be fun if I pulled his beating heart from his chest. According to Professor Stronach, some cannibalistic cultures ate the organs of their enemies as a way of displaying their victory. Think about it. Wouldn’t eating Josh’s heart be an excellent way to truly come full circle? To truly show his father, your enemy, that in the end you’re the victor?”

The dean pushed off his heels. “That’s disgusting.”
 

“So says the man who has killed nine innocent boys. Really, Daddy. Your morals are incredibly…warped.”
 

When she met Owen’s gaze, his hope deflated, but his determination grew stronger. Melissa was beyond sick. If he didn’t stop her, they were all dead.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked him, as she approached. Blood dripped from the knife and left a trail. “I guess I should have started with you, after all.”
 

When she reached him, she kicked his chest. He fell back, but quickly pulled his legs and feet from under him.
 

“My idiot father was right about one thing,” she said. “You and your partner are buffoons. You two are so fucking clueless, even after all the bits of evidence I left for you. If you’d done your job, you would have caught my dad, saved the boy and…well, honestly, you could’ve never saved the boy. He’d seen my face and knew me from the dorms.” She tilted her head. “Yeah, he would’ve died anyway. But now you will—”

A door slammed on the main floor. Melissa craned her neck and looked up toward the ladder.
 

“You’re screwed, Junior,” the dean said with a chuckle. “There’s no way out but up, and it sounds like the
buffoon’s
friends are here.”

“Actually, I’m not. The only one screwed is you.” She smiled, then zipped her coat. “Yep, I know about your secret door,
Daddy
. God, you’re an idiot. Have fun in prison. I have a feeling your fellow inmates will make your Hell Week look like playtime.”

As she took off, Owen kicked the back of her knee. Her leg buckled. She fell forward, the hit jarring the knife from her hands. He quickly squirmed his body back and kicked the workbench and shouted for help. The gun fell just as she retrieved the knife.
 

“I would have enjoyed killing you, but you’re not worth it,” she said, then ran across the room until the darkness swallowed her.

*

Spurred by frustration and fear, Rachel gnawed on a pencil and trudged through the thick, wet snow. She couldn’t stop thinking about Owen, or…the blood they’d found inside Melissa’s SUV.
 

“Not too far, Ma’am,” one of Marty’s men called after her.

“Kiss my ass,” she mumbled. As she edged around the corner of Dean Xavier Preston’s century home, she wished she were carrying a gun. When they’d arrived, and discovered Melissa’s dark green Chevy Blazer, Jake had insisted she stay outside and near the SUV until he and Marty cleared the house. Meanwhile, Marty had ordered one of his officers to head around the back of the house to secure the exit. Unfortunately, Jake’s deputies and the remaining men on loan from the state police had been needed at the festival for crowd control. “Bullshit.” She kicked the snow. Those men were needed here.
 

Damn it, I’m needed in there
.

Her rational, logical mind understood Jake’s position. While she was a licensed private investigator and also licensed to carry a concealed weapon, she didn’t have the experience for a situation like this. Melissa, rather, Holly Saunders, was a dangerous, unpredictable killer. But the bitch had gone after Owen. Her stomach clenched.
 

Please, let him be okay
.
 

She couldn’t imagine never seeing him, touching him, loving him. While she’d said some awful things to him and had acted as if there wasn’t a chance in hell they’d ever—

Sucking in a breath, she stopped dead. Icy fingers of dread crept along her spine as a figure emerged from the overgrown hedges running along the side of the house. The glow from the moon revealed long dark hair and Rachel knew, deep in the depths of her soul, that figure was the bitch herself.
 

Biting hard on the pencil, she crouched and hid behind a fat pine tree. Moving the branches slightly, she waited and watched. Melissa looked from left to right, then took off running. With the element of surprise on her side, and afraid of losing Melissa in the woods, Rachel shoved the pencil in her pocket and sprinted after her.
 

Once she entered the woods, she realized she’d reacted too quickly. She should have called out to the officer at the front of the house. Without a flashlight, without a weapon, she couldn’t see or protect herself. She considered her phone, but instantly changed her mind. The glow from her cell could alert Melissa’s attention.
 

Rachel stumbled over something, cracked her knee and scraped her hand. Screw it. She scrambled to her feet, reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Slowing to a jog, she kept her eyes wide as she hit the speed dial. When Jake answered, a small sense of relief filled her.

“She’s in the woods,” Rachel whispered. “West of the house. I’m on her—”

Melissa swung her leg through the air. Rachel dropped the phone and raised her hands. She knocked the bitch’s booted foot away before it connected with her head. Taking advantage of Melissa’s exposed torso, she double jabbed her stomach, then sent an uppercut straight to her jaw. As Melissa’s head shot back, Rachel gave the woman a solid kick in the gut.

Melissa fell to her knees and clutched her midsection. With vengeance and fear for Owen driving her, Rachel kicked the other woman’s head.
 

 
Melissa tucked and rolled, sprang up and raised her arm. A sliver of moonlight reflected off the blade of a knife.
 

Raw fury ripped through Rachel. She shot her hand out and gripped the other woman’s arm. Melissa pressed forward. The tip of the knife snagged Rachel’s coat. The bitch might have her by at least seven inches and thirty pounds, but Rachel knew how to fight dirty. When the knife met skin, she acted fast. She kneed Melissa in the belly, then the crotch. As the woman gasped and grunted, Rachel head butted her. Blood spurted from Melissa’s nose. Ignoring her throbbing head, Rachel threw herself at Melissa, knocking the woman to the ground.

Melissa surprised her. Rolled them over and over until a large pile of rock stopped their momentum. At a disadvantage, Melissa pinned her with her weight, and swung both her fist and the knife.
 

Rachel blocked the knife, but took a hit to the cheek. She ignored the taste of blood and punched Melissa in the throat. The woman gasped and clutched her neck with her free hand. She raised the knife with intent, but Rachel shoved her back. Crawled on top of her, then slammed Melissa’s wrist against the rock. The knife fell from the bitch’s hand. Rachel reached over the rock to grab it, but met nothing but air. Confused, but more worried the woman had another weapon, she went for one of the rocks.
 

Melissa punched her in the kidney, then the jaw. Rachel fell to her side and kicked, but Melissa dropped her knees on Rachel’s back and gripped her head. She slammed Rachel’s head against the ground and shoved her face into snow and icy mud. Her heart beating out of control, the need to breathe overwhelming, Rachel wished to God she had called for help from the start. She wished she hadn’t been such a pansy ass and had forced herself to carry a gun. Owen and Sean’s images rose in her foggy mind. Who would look after brother? And Owen…why couldn’t she have just forgiven him and told him the truth? Told him she loved him.

“My daddy was right,” Melissa panted close to Rachel’s ear. “You and your partner are useless buffoons.” She pressed on Rachel’s head. “You should have seen the way I gutted your buddy. Cut him from the groin up to his—”

Stop this bitch.
 

Rachel squirmed her body and tried to buck Melissa. The woman pressed harder. “Fucking die,” she whispered against Rachel’s ear.
 

Not today
.

With everything to lose, and in desperate need to breathe, Rachel twisted her arms, reached above and behind, and clawed Melissa’s face. Melissa’s grip loosened as she cried out. Rachel quickly pulled her head from the snow and mud, dragged in a deep breath, then elbowed Melissa in the gut. The woman grunted. Rachel rotated, reached into her coat pocket and latched onto the pencil. She pulled it free and stabbed Melissa in the cheek. Before the woman could grab it from her, Rachel plucked it from her face, and with her free hand, pinched Melissa’s bloodied nose. As Melissa howled and swung her fists, Rachel focused on what the bitch had done to Owen. She cocked her arm back, and using all of her strength, slammed the business end of the pencil against Melissa’s ear and shoved it hard.