Page 1 of You Can Make Me (Carnival of Mysteries #28)

C ooper

December

Buttonwillow Rest Area,

Buttonwillow, California

Interstate 5

You see it happen in the movies all the time.

The villain has his victim by the scruff of the neck, or the collar of a shirt, dragging their limp body, the poor soul moaning and pleading, but the viewer knows there will be no mercy this time.

The viewer also believes they will never be in such a predicament.

Unless the viewer is me. Because now I know better. If something horrible can happen, it will if it’s your time. Life is inherently fragile. Losing your life may be the last thing you think is going to happen when you leave the house, but you should never become complacent.Or cocky.

In my case, it was the last thing I thought would happen when I drove up the 5 to take pictures of a rest area for a story I was working on. Because of my incessant search for the truth, I was now faced with the reality that my entire life course would be irrevocably altered…if I survived at all.

As the sun went down, turning the sky a fiery orange color reminiscent of a forest blaze, I experienced the helpless sensation of being dragged by the collar of my dress shirt.

I wondered how my Calvin Klein button-down managed not to tear.

I was easily a hundred seventy pounds, no lightweight.

Did shirt manufacturers contemplate such things when designing luxury apparel?

Was the drag factor part of the quality control process?

My Berlutis were going to be toast, I knew that for sure, as my feet scraped across the gravel. They were my favorite shoes.

“It’s almost time. They’re almost here.”

The man had incapacitated me with a blow to the head, and dragged me through the rest area to the field beyond the restrooms. He seemed too slight to carry my weight, but based on the sounds he was making, he was not in his right mind.

Was he on drugs? Mentally ill? It didn’t matter.

He yanked me along, my head lolling back against his hand with every step, and he was a man on a mission.

“What’s…please.” I tried to make words come out, but the connection between my fuzzy brain and my mouth must have been severed when he cracked me over the back of the head.No messages would get to my limbs either.

“I’m gonna win. I’m gonna beat him. I’m gonna have my peace.”

His words were confusing, yet my sense of foreboding grew as my shoes left the gravel and began to glide over muddy grass.

The man let go of my collar, and my head thwacked the ground, knocking my teeth together.

The taste of blood bloomed in my mouth, and I moaned.

The scene was surreal, like something out of a horror movie, but the sound of cars flying by on the interstate made it seem strangely normal.

Life continued on for others while it appeared to be ending for me.

All the Jiu Jitsu and Muay Thai in the world couldn’t save me now.

I’d falsely assumed that the skills I’d learned would come to me like second nature when I needed them.

I hadn’t counted on being surprised and knocked out cold.

Full awareness was just out of reach and my limbs refused to comply with the messages my brain attempted to send.

The man walked around and stood next to my hips, smiling down at me. Even in the fading light, I could see his abnormally full mouth. So many teeth.

Just like the young musician had told me. Dee Dee Miller.

His description of the man he’d met at the carnival was spot on.

“I’d tell you this wasn’t gonna hurt, but I’d be lyin’,” he said as he pulled out a cleaver. It was a tool meant for hacking at a slab of beef, or maybe flaying open a fish.

The gleam of metal sparked a memory from long ago.

You seek answers meant for others

You trespass upon the fears of mothers

You tread upon the bonds of brothers

And it will be your undoing

You question the righteous

You goad the innocent

You cater to the immoral

And it will bring about your demise

Your curiosity will lead you to death’s doorstep

Your pleas will go unheard

Your bargaining will fall on deaf ears

And your life will be forfeit

So dwell on the consequences

Weigh your options

Settle your debts

And the Reaper may pass you by

But continue on this path

Remain on this road

And upon the area of rest

The swipe of the blade will be the ultimate test

The words spoken to me by the old women in Laurel Canyon years ago echoed in my mind.

While still a hotshot college student trying to gain favor with my advisor, I became insatiable when it came to the unsavory tales of the canyon’s history.

I knew there had to be more stories than the parties and rock ’n’ roll, and I practically went door to door trying to get the older residents to talk to me.

I was obsessed, drawn to the area with an inexplicable pull, and I’d stuck my nose where it didn’t belong more than once.

I should have stayed away, but I hadn’t learned my lesson.

Granddad had praised my curious mind, predicted that my constant search for the truth would lead me to greatness.

For a time, maybe it had. Most of my years working as a journalist, I’d championed the folks who needed someone to speak on their behalf, rarely going for the sensational.

But on that sunny summer day, while driving from my apartment in West Hollywood to my internship in Studio City, I’d stopped to get a Peace Tea at the Canyon Store and spotted their table in the shade.

The old women had issued me a harsh warning, and rather than heed their words, I’d played chicken with fate.

“You’re so pretty. Just like him . I’m gonna have fun taking your pretty away.”

I’d handled my fear just fine until then. I somehow found the ability to fight back, but that only made him more excited.

“ Yes ,” he hissed when I rolled and attempted a wristlock. When he bent down, I tried to punch him in the throat but only ended up scratching his face. “Fight me. It’ll be even more satisfying this way.”

The first slice of his giant knife to my face went in above my eyebrow, and I shouted as blood ran into my eye. I threw up my arms to protect my face, and he laughed, cutting deeply into my forearms and my shoulder. I managed to roll away, but then he added gashes to my glutes.

With my last burst of energy, I attempted a double-leg takedown, hoping to push him back and maybe get the knife away from him, but I didn’t have the force to knock him off his feet. I kicked at him from my position on the ground, but he was faster. I flagged when he slashed at my thighs.

I kept them pressed together, hoping he’d miss hitting the interior femoral artery.

“You are a feisty one. He would have been pleased—but you’re all mine.” He knelt at my side and ran the tip of his blade below my cheekbone, slicing through muscle and gums. “There. That should do it. Don’t want it over too quickly.”

He stepped back, and I tried to push up, but I had no strength left anywhere. Breathing became labored. Vision blurred. My heartbeat thudded hard in my ears and began to slow.

Footsteps thudded on the grass from more than one person, but I couldn’t see…

“You came!” he said with sickening joy. “I hoped we’d have this time together.

He wanted me to bring you to him, to take your life in front of him, but I want you for myself.

This is my triumph, not his, and I won’t have him in my head trying to control me anymore.

I wanted to make you bleed, but he wasn’t going to let me have you.

I ain’t gonna do his dirty work no more.

I found you, that’s what he wanted. I had my taste of blood. I won—do you hear me, old man?”

Who the hell was he talking to?

“Drop your weapon!”

Oh God . Detective Dennis Hamilton. He was here. The one person I’d been terrified of seeing again, and the one I knew could make all this stop.

“Aw, man. We’re out of time, Mr. Troubadour. I hoped to take my time with you.”

“Stop! Let him go.” Not Denny or Gene. Detective Muse, maybe?

“Too late for him. The pretty man was a nice surprise. He was taking pictures when I moseyed on up and introduced him to my knives. We’ve had some fun. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to watch your pain as I spilled this one’s blood, Detective.”

He jerked my collar, lifting my upper body off the ground, and my head throbbed. “This’ll have to be enough. Sorry we didn’t get to share more time, Dee Dee. I’ll see you again. Next time around.” The man laughed and the sound was…maniacal.

“Drop the knife!”

My shoulders and head hit the ground and four loud cracks split the air. A thud sounded to the right of me as my attacker fell to his knees, and then I heard shouting.

“I’m… free ,” my attacker croaked in a whisper as he collapsed onto the ground. The last thing I saw was him bleeding from his throat.

Time seemed to stop as agony overwhelmed me. And cold. So cold. Everything sounded as if I was sinking underwater; garbled voices were muffled.

“Walter! Get an ambulance! Oh God!”

Denny. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

“He doesn’t have time. He needs Life Flight.”

Someone else was there. Multiple hands pressed on me, which I knew should hurt, but I’d moved beyond pain. Strong arms lifted my shoulders and then I was pressed against warmth. My sinuses filled with that scent I’d come to crave. I’d come to love.

“Come on, baby. Hold on. Come on. Walter! I need help! ”

I should have listened.

“ Where’s that fucking helicopter! ”

As I took my last gasping breaths, I opened my eyes and tried to memorize his face.

“Denny.” I’m sorry.