Page 58 of The Whispering Girls (Detective Katie Scott #14)

FIFTY-FOUR

Katie looked at her watch. It read almost exactly midnight, which seemed fitting for what she was about to do.

The wind changed direction. The setting seemed to become even darker around her and there seemed to be whispers everywhere.

She continued to inch forward until she could almost hear the killer breathing.

She slowly retrieved her weapon from her hip holster and cautiously aimed it at him.

“Put your hands up!” she yelled.

It caused him to freeze and slowly raise his hands.

“Drop your weapon, Officer Clark!”

He complied.

Katie moved in closer. She wanted to see his face and hear what he had to say before he was arrested and brought in. Still her Glock remained trained on him and she was prepared to use it if necessary.

Clark slowly turned. His face remained neutral and it was difficult to read him.

“How long have you been killing young women?” she said. “It will never feed your needs.”

“You’re the expert, Detective, you tell me.” There was a snide tone to his voice.

“It’s over. You’re not going to hurt anyone else. And your game of playing Jack against the chief is over.”

He chuckled. “You’re so na?ve.”

“Tell me this. When you took the job here did you know about the chief’s murdered wife?”

“Of course,” he said. “I do my homework, to leave nothing to error. I would never immerse myself into a police department if I didn’t know the dark secrets or the skeletons in the closet.”

“I suspect that you don’t have a sister either?” she said.

“You’re correct, Detective. Tami Clark was just a girl I had met and was starving for any type of acting job.”

“Her boot. Nice touch.”

He laughed, never taking his eyes away from Katie.

Katie was suspicious that he was so completely calm. “You were going to use that murder to pit the chief and Jack against each other throwing suspicion—all the while the town thinks there’s a serial killer on the loose.”

“Something like that.”

Katie despised the arrogance and high-mindedness of Clark. She had picked up on some of it when she worked with him. “Your mother didn’t love you enough and your father thought you were worthless. That about sum it up?”

“You’re like all the rest. Cops, detectives, psychologists, and the behavioral science unit all follow the same playbook: the serial killer recipe. There’s never any deviation. Every person who kills is different from the next. Pathetic.” He shook his head.

“You must’ve flunked out of the FBI Behavioral Science Unit.”

Clark’s face turned dark and his eyes remained fixated on Katie.

“I knew I would find your trigger. So the murder fifteen years ago must’ve been inspiring to you and you figured no one would be able to solve these crimes too.”

“First, I didn’t have a mother and father.

I was an orphan. No one wanted to adopt me, so I spent my young life living in group homes—several, one right after the next.

That was an education, watching behaviors and learning how to survive.

Watching what made people tick. Their fears, dreams, and what someone would do or not do.

I would continually see the beautiful children, especially pretty little girls, get adopted,” he said.

“As for me, I was brutalized, bullied by older girls who humiliated and laughed at me as they pulled off my pants leaving me vulnerable and alone for everyone to see. No to mention beaten, deprived of food, and ultimately forgotten. No one ever cared about me. This was my way of paying it forward, leveling the playing field, to the way it should be. Getting rid of every one of those bitches who think they’re better than me…

Everything about them was incorporated into my totems. It was like their calling card for everyone to see who they really were.

It set everything straight. I will never be bullied or laughed at again…

ever. My childhood was taken from me. And now I’m taking theirs. ”

As sad as Clark’s story was and the fierce hatred in his eyes, it made Katie that much more determined to take him into custody, where they could potentially study him.

If a police officer or FBI agent could become a serial killer, then some of the experts’ hypotheses needed to be updated and studied further.

“Put your hands behind your back,” she said.

Clark didn’t move.

“I’m not going to say it again.”

Clark deliberately put his hands behind his back.

Katie had already taken handcuffs out of her pack and was ready.

She was cautious, but had to lower her weapon and return it briefly to her holster, which she didn’t want to do.

But there was no other choice, she didn’t have backup and she wanted him restrained immediately.

As she raised her hand with one side of the cuff, she was able to snap it on.

But when she was about to secure the other hand, Clark made his move.

With a one-two approach, he used a martial arts or cage fighting technique to turn on Katie. He caught her arm and was able to easily toss her on her back as she let go of the handcuffs.

Katie was stunned, the wind temporarily knocked out of her. She couldn’t quite get air to return to her lungs, wheezing in the process.

Her gun flew into a snow pile.

Clark snapped the handcuffs on her while she was still trying to recover from the assault. He obviously knew how to open the one cuff or had a key. Her breathing began to return, but her body was still exhausted and running only on adrenalin.

Clark made sure she was secured and couldn’t move, even though her hands were handcuffed in front.

He then flipped her over to restrain her even further.

“So you’re going to live out your last remaining breaths down one of those wells just like your buddy.

” He sniffed and then chuckled. It was clear he was absolutely enjoying this moment, gaining more power.

Katie was face down in the snow; she felt every inch of the cold pressed ice hard against her face and neck.

Her cuffed hands were underneath her belly.

She frantically worked them until she was able to push them to the side, allowing her to roll over and to use the heel of her hands to slam his face.

He pulled her up and shook her like a ragdoll.

Katie broke free and dove into the snow where she thought her gun had gone.

Clark then pushed his rifle into her face. “Stop right there.”

Katie stopped moving.

“Get up,” he said.

She struggled to get to her feet. Stunned and alone, she wanted to take him down in the worst way—no remorse. At first, she’d wanted to take him in but now she wanted him dead. He would never hurt anyone ever again.

“Move,” he said, pointing the rifle in the direction he wanted her to go.

Katie didn’t have any other choice. She walked west. The cold was beginning to take its toll on her, the blowing wind making her eyes water as her face stung relentlessly; she hurt and found it difficult to move forward.

She could see where she was going through her blurred watery vision. There looked to be something in the ground and she could only guess that it was another well or deep hole of some sort. Slowing down, she used the time to figure out what she was going to do.

“Keep going or I’ll blow your head off,” said Clark.

Katie knew he would. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “They’re going to find out about you and no one is going to think you’re brave or special—only weak.”

“I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.”

“I bet some of those bullies you knew are now successful and respected.”

“Stop!”

Got him…

When you get someone emotional, they become off balance and more likely to make mistakes.

“You don’t know anything. You know I did a background on you the first day I saw you,” he said.

“Yeah, so?”

“From what I gather you think pretty highly of yourself. Maybe I should make an example out of you? What do you think about that?” Clark spun her around to face him.

Just as he did, Katie swung her arms and clasped hands, making contact with his face again. There was a cracking noise as she broke his noise.

Clark still held tight to the rifle but she’d made him pause briefly.

Katie didn’t wait and ran as fast as she could with her hands handcuffed in front of her.

It made it awkward and slowed her down, but she thought she was making progress, until she was yanked backward by her hair.

She had failed. The pain was excruciating, causing her to fall, hitting something hard, a tree stump or another part of an old building.

Rolling to her side, she still wasn’t giving up. She stood.

Katie switched from defense to offense, charging Clark and taking him down to the ground. When they landed hard there was a strange noise in the snow. It sounded like someone groaning, or a howling like the wind, but it was coming from underneath them.

Katie pushed herself upright and saw that the ground had buckled. Within seconds they crashed through to an underground bunker followed by snow and forest debris, which fell on top of them.

Katie heard Clark mumble in pain.

She saw cement markers, some tall, some short and wide.

Taking a breath and blinking her eyes to clear them, she saw they were surrounded by gravestones.

One of the dates was 1862. This was a historical gravesite, often part of a large ranch, most likely a family plot of generations who had been buried there.

Katie didn’t waste any time and tried to find a way to climb out. It was only about six feet to the ground above. She scrambled to find anything she could use as a step. But when she was about out the top, she was pulled back down, landing hard.

Lying on her back again, Katie looked up and saw Clark, his face bleeding, his arms above his head holding a piece of stone. He was intent on smashing her head .

Before Katie could move, a shotgun blast ripped by her ears once again, and she lost her breath for a moment. It was deafening and she thought she had been shot, but she saw Clark try to stand again with blood seeping from his right shoulder. He couldn’t fight it. He dropped to the ground.

Katie looked up and saw John standing with Clark’s rifle. He staggered, dropped the gun, before he also fell to the ground.

“John,” said Katie as she scrambled to try to get to the top. Pulling herself up, she crawled in the snow to him. He was lying on his back.

Katie managed to push the door popper again for Cisco. It wasn’t usually used that way, but his collar would beep when she pushed it and she hoped it would alert him to find them. “John,” she said. “You saved my life.” Her relief was overwhelming and a flood of feelings swarmed her.

“Sorry,” he said breathlessly, “it took me so long…”

Katie leaned over him. “You were right on time,” she said slowly and then kissed him softly on the lips.

He returned her kiss and something happened between them that changed everything.

“Um, what’s going on?” said McGaven standing over them with a smile on his face.

Cisco ran up and took turns greeting Katie, then John, and then over to McGaven. Then the dog spun a few more times.

“Nothing,” Katie said, hiding her embarrassment.

McGaven moved carefully to the edge and looked down in the graveyard bunker at Officer Clark. “He’s the serial killer, isn’t he?”

“Is he dead?” she said.

“No, he’s moving and covered in blood.” McGaven looked at Katie and John.

“I told you I’d be back in about an hour.

But…this…I knew would happen one day.” He pointed at Katie and John, trying to make light of everything, but it was clear he was relieved that everyone was okay—the ones who mattered.

“I will fill you in later,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

There was the sound of a helicopter approaching and they could see lights flashing through treetops. It would be landing shortly with their reinforcements.

McGaven looked at his watch. “Right on time.”

Katie felt so many emotions hijacking her body she wasn’t quite sure what was real and what wasn’t. But that exact moment, she knew she would remember forever. She didn’t care; her family was still here and they would be okay. That’s what mattered.

McGaven leaned down and took off Katie’s cuffs. “Let’s get this killer in handcuffs instead.”

Katie managed to get to her feet and helped John up. They leaned on each other as they watched McGaven jump down into what was once a family burial plot and arrest Clark.