Page 32

His eyes snap open as he tries to slap my hands away but I take the hits, keeping my grip tight, unwavering. Suddenly, he bucks his hips, sending my face colliding with the cement wall in front of me. Pain explodes in my forehead and blood pours freely. “Head wounds always bleed like a motherfucker,” Dennis’s nasty words ring in my ear, reminding me that blood doesn’t always mean grave injury, some places just bleed more than others.

“You fucking bitch!” he hollers, kicking me swiftly in the stomach. Curling into the fetal position, I take my beating. Hanging on the precipice of unconsciousness, I feel free, peaceful. This is it,finally. I’ll be dead. Just like Victoria. No more struggling. No more abuse. No more depression or self harming just to feel fuckinganything. I’ll know what awaits us on the other side, at last. Calmness washes over me as I wait for the final blow, the cold curling of his fingers around my own throat.

“You’re not getting off that easy, let’s go,” he growls. My body is aggressively rolled from its side-lying position, and I’m shoved onto my back. His violent uncaring touch removes the collar around my neck, casting it aside. I’mroughly grabbed, lifted, and thrown over his shoulder. He mumbles to himself as my head pounds a steady beat and blood obscures my vision. I can’t understand what he’s saying, and any urge to resist or fight him has left me.

Swaying from side to side as he ascends the stairs, the bright sun’s rays burn my eyes as they try and adjust from the permanent darkness I’ve been living in.

“Where are we going?” I slur.

“The mill,” he curtly replies.

Panic seizes every muscle in my body and the pain that flares is excruciating. Frozen rigid against him, he walks us over to the red car from before. He’s going to torture me, cut me up, and display me for everyone to see.

I deserve it after failing Victoria so monumentally.

Opening the trunk, he shifts his body, ready to throw me into that claustrophobic hell. Despite how deserving I feel of what’s to come, I start to move, forcing my stiff limbs to cooperate. Flight: the final response to my fucked up situation takes hold as I try to flee. I begin to thrash, no matter how sluggish I feel. I have to try. I don’t want to be mutilated…gutted…entrails swaying in time with my body as I hang from the rafters of the mill.

He callously throws me down into the hard metal enclosure. I kick and punch, screaming for help. Anything to stop him from closing the trunk lid on me.

Ire and annoyance paint every inch of his face as he pulls a handgun from his waistband, pointing it at me.

“Stop,” he says, and I obey. With his one hand on the trunk lid, and the other gripping the gun aimed at my face, all the fight bleeds from my bones.

“Why?” I whisper, staring down the barrel of his revolver.

“Why?” he snarls. “Why kill you here when I can so easily take out you and Officer Graves at the same time?” Without warning, he slams the trunk closed. I’m about to scream even though I know it’s pointless, but his voice comes again, “Did you think I’d give you a journal and not read it? How stupid do you think I am?” he shouts, the sound muffled through the metal. “I’ve known this whole time you had some sort of plan to bond with me and then turn me in. Oh well, all good things must come to an end.” His voice decreases in volume as I hear the car door open. The vehicle dips and moves as he shifts his weight into the driver’s seat, and the sound of the door closing follows soon after.

He was never going to spare Victoria. Bringing her to me was just another thrill for him, to break me for his own amusement until he decided I’d served my purpose, then he’d kill me and find someone new.

“No. No. NO!” I scream. It’s useless. No one can hear me, but I can’t stop. I need to let them out, the new feelings rising within me. No one is looking for me. I’m going to die, brutally. I know from reading up on the previous cases, the women’s injuries all occurred peri mortem. He’s going to slice me up, paint the walls of the mill with my blood, and make it the most gruesome one to date. I just know it.

The vehicle sputters to life and jerks into motion. Momentarily I hope it’s mechanically sound enough to get us to the mill. I don’t know where we are or how long this drive will take but the thought of being so close tohome chases away some of my dread.Breathe in. Breathe out. Again and again until I can think clearly.

Reaching out my hands and feeling the dark space around me, I look for anything I can use as a weapon. Hope takes root as I maneuver myself around enough to pull up the compartment beneath me where the spare tire is kept. Praying there is anything in there I can use to protect myself. Car jack, tire iron,anything.Hopefulness quickly evaporates as I find the area barren. Of course there’s nothing, I’m not someone who ever gets good luck. I get beat with the shit end of the stick every fucking time.

Chapter Twenty-four

Graves

The robotic GPS voice rings through my earphones telling me that my destination is coming up. I shift into neutral, cut the engine to the quad, and coast to a stop behind a thick cluster of trees. Removing the earbuds, next to no sound meet my ears. The forest is eerily calm and quiet, like it’s holding its breath. The atmosphere is thick— ominous. A foreboding feeling sinking down into my marrow, causing the cold sweat and erratic beat of my heart to return.

Get a grip Nox. You’re her Ghost. Her protector. Her saviour. Go find her. This is the closest you’ve been in weeks.

Shaking out my trepidation, I gear up. The rifle’s slung across my back, knife in its sheath at my side, and my pistol is at the ready as I head for the cabin.

I’m moving quietly through the underbrush when the foliage suddenly clears and a path appears under foot. The ground is worn from the steady traffic of tires, forming a small road only wide enough for a singular vehicle. Following it brings me upon asmall log building. I pause, straining my ears to hear even the smallest sign of movement from inside. No sound comes, and there’s no car in the vicinity… Should I just walk in unannounced and start searching? The element of surprise could work in my favour. However, if I don’t announce myself, and someone who isn’t the killer is here, it would be grounds for them to file some sort of grievance against me.

I silently skulk around the building, coming upon a cellar. The door is open, and the smell emitting from within is one I’m all too familiar with.

“Crystal Creek police department, is anybody down there?” I bellow into the darkness. Waiting, I hold my breath. Simultaneously hoping Mallory will call out for me so I can rescue her but also that she’s not in this decrepit place. I’m praying it’s not her decomposing body I smell. No answering call comes from below and I quickly formulate a plan.

Not wanting someone to get the jump on me, I close the door to the cellar as quietly as possible and return to the front door of the cabin. Announcing myself again with no reply, I step inside. There’s a small living room area with a couch and fireplace in front of me, and an even smaller kitchen to my right. Sitting out in the open is the bola wrap gun.

Gotcha, fucker.

Satisfaction swims through my veins. I knew I was right. Quickly, I photograph the evidence on my phone then continue on my sweep of the property. Down an adjacent hallway to the kitchen there are three closed doors. The first on the right is a bathroom. It’s absolutely disgusting. Blood peppers the floor, streams of it colouringthe side of the tub, and painting the basin within. The amount is concerning but not enough to be fatal.

Shaking out the tense feeling coiling around me, I move back to the hallway, sweeping the two final rooms. They’re small bedrooms that appear to be unused, but I clear them nonetheless. Thoroughly searching the closets and under the beds. Content that there’s no one here, I head back to the cellar.