“We tried this already,” Darcy says, burying her face in her hands as she remembers their visit with the Full Moon Killer. Rivers had refused to speak to the FBI after his incarceration, but he sang like a bird when Darcy entered the room, even if his intent was to cut to her pieces psychologically. By the end of the interview, Rivers almost had Darcy convinced Hunter was a budding serial killer. The combined efforts of Hensel and two prison guards stopped Darcy from leaping across the table to attack Rivers.
But she’d gotten to him. Psychologically turned the tables and broke down the invisible walls he’d built around him. She could do it again.
“Don’t even think about it,” Hensel said, reading her mind.
“No need to convince me. I’m not leaving Georgia without both of my children.”
Perhaps Darcy need not travel to Buffalo. Other options exist to force Rivers’ hand. She recalls a quip Hensel made at the prison. Something about Darcy bribing an inmate to jam a shank into Rivers’ belly. During her first year with the FBI, Darcy and Hensel solved a series of mob murders in Western New York between Rochester and Buffalo. Who was the man the FBI aided?
Leo Vescio.
Vescio, a small-time operator out of Rochester, had been the next target in the turf war before Hensel’s team crashed the party. The FBI took down Vescio’s enemies, and the small-time operator grew in power after the dust cleared. Vescio had contacts inside the prison. And he owed Darcy.
Hensel checks his watch.
“Four hours until Ellsworth comes in. We’ll catch the scumbag who’s giving Rivers phone access, and then we’ll put the pressure on Rivers. If he knows where the girls are, we’ll find out.”
The plan will fail. Darcy doesn’t care. She’s already searching for a way to contact Vescio without Hensel finding out.
***
Jennifer’s eyes refuse to open. Too heavy.
Her head hurts. Stomach roils as though something crawled inside her belly and died. The memory of the callused hand curling over her mouth sends an icy lance through her body. She springs awake to a dark room. It’s so cold she can see her breath.
She struggles to her knees, and chains yank her down. The links bite and pinch her skin. Jennifer trembles as she remembers floating through the forest as though weightless, the tree limbs and bramble scraping her flesh, dead leaves crackling against her face. Then the sound of water and a distant roar.
The falls.
Which means she wasn’t far from cousin Laurie’s house while the man carried her toward the water’s edge. Jennifer isn’t sure what happened after. She lost consciousness, though the floating sensation returns to her.
Her back scrapes against crumbling plaster. Grains pour off the wall and cascade to the floor as if someone opened a salt shaker. Listening, she can’t hear the falls anymore. Just a gentle susurrus that could be a river or the wind. She could be anywhere, but the pitch dark means it’s not morning yet, and she doesn’t remember being inside a car. They couldn’t have gone far.
As her eyes adjust to the dark, she picks out details in the room. A cot in the corner with a blanket bunched at the foot of the makeshift bed. A second cot, disturbingly coffin-like, rests against the opposite wall. Her gaze travels to the half-open doorway, through which gray light spills as though a light shines in a hidden corner of the house.
Jennifer almost misses the bulk curled beside the second cot. She locks her eyes on the form. Unlaundered blankets or a pile of clothes? A yelp escapes her lips when the bulk moves. A subtle shifting.
It’s a girl, Jennifer realizes. And she’s alive.
The unknown girl moans. Her arms reach toward the dark ceiling, searching for a parent or someone to save her from this house of horrors. The pitiful croak which emanates from the girl’s chest tells Jennifer she’s sick and in a great deal of pain. Perhaps dying. Instinctively, Jennifer struggles toward the girl. Then the chains dig into her arms and ankles and tear soft flesh.
When Jennifer cries out and falls against the wall, the girl squeaks and draws her knees toward her chest. The clink of chains echo back to Jennifer, proof the kidnapper bound both girls. Even in the gloom she sees the girl tremble like a frightened mouse. The girl is too groggy to know Jennifer is here, only realizes someone is in the dark with her.
Jennifer’s attempt to speak to the girl ends when a black shadow fills the doorway. Hinges creak as the door drifts open. The man steps into the room, his face concealed by darkness. He sniffs the air, animal-like. Then he strides forward, walking straight at Jennifer. She rolls away until the wall traps her.
“Leave me alone,” she says as the man hauls her into a sitting position.
“You fight too much,” the man says, bending closer so she smells the rank of his breath.
The feminine pitch of his voice surprises her. It belies his tall, strong body. With his face close to hers, she makes out his features now. He’s a walking dichotomy, ugly yet handsome. High cheekbones for a male, face smooth except for a long scar over his left eye. The face of the devil, a voice whispers inside Jennifer’s head.
Bringing up a knee, she kicks him in the chest and knocks him back on his heels. The backhand slap twists Jennifer’s head. Stars burst in her eyes as pain spreads through her cheeks. She promises herself she won’t cry. A part of her realizes that’s what he wants…to watch her grovel and plead as tears flow down her cheeks. A shock moves through her when his callused hands grope beneath her shirt and slither toward her chest. She kicks him again, and this time his face twists in anger. Grabbing her hair, he shoves her head against the wall. Agony forces Jennifer to sob, shaming her.
When she’s certain he means to rape her, he turns toward the door, stopping only to study the other girl on the floor. The unknown girl makes a duck-like cough and rolls onto her belly, too weak to defend herself. Jennifer looks away. She won’t watch him rape the sick girl.
“You’re so beautiful,” the man says, looking back at Jennifer. “He wants you for his own, but there’s no reason for you to die. Stay with me. I can make you so happy. He doesn’t need to know.”
The man kneels to brush the hair off the other girl’s face.
“So beautiful.”
Jennifer clamps her eyes shut. Refuses to watch. But the room is quiet now. The only sound is her own breathing.
He’s gone.
A scream pops her eyes open. The man’s shadow passes the open doorway with another girl slung over his shoulder. A third kidnapped girl. Then a door slams, and the screams become muffled, fading in volume until Jennifer can’t hear the girl anymore.
She shifts her body around and faces the wall where the chains hook against an antique radiator. Wincing, she kicks the radiator and drives the heel of her foot against the brass padlock.
Then she hears him coming back.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When did she fall asleep?
Darcy bolts up in the chair and grabs her aching neck. She’s still inside the sheriff’s department briefing room, the quality of the light stronger as gray daylight seeps down the hall and slides across the window. Voices travel from the hallway. When she tries to stand, the cramp worsens. As if someone pinches the back of her neck with pliers. That Jennifer is missing keeps jolting her nerves with electrical shocks. She can’t put two thoughts together.
Rubbing the knot out of her neck, Darcy shuffles to the door and opens it a crack. Hensel, the jacket gone and his dress shirt wrinkled, runs a hand through a rat’s nest of hair. Black shadows circle his bloodshot eyes, and as he speaks to Agent Fisher, Hensel totters like a tree close to toppling. Grogginess can’t dampen his anger. He spins on his heel and stomps toward the briefing room. When Hensel sees Darcy in the doorway, he pulls up, surprised she’s awake. He starts forward again and itches the top of his head.