Be Still Page 16

  “Pretty good, huh?”

  Dale’s mind flashed on Bill Sadler. “So when Sadler was lying about Clyde, he was just looking out for a buddy. Trying to steer the investigation away from Clyde.”

  “And away from himself,” Mira said. “Don’t make him sound so admirable. He’s a piece of shit.”

  Dale took in a deep breath and slowly released it. His eyes moved over Mira’s wounds, her bandages.

  “You attacked yourself.”

  Mira nodded. She made a fist, gave a light tap to her shoulder.

  “Pow!”

  “But … you have stab wounds … how …”

  Mira smiled. She stood up, walked over to the crack in the wall she’d pointed out moments earlier. She got on her hands and knees and reached inside, pulled out a knife. She held it up.

  “A special knife. Made it myself! Broke the blade. It’s only about three quarters of an inch. Not too deep. All you gotta do is avoid the organs and the ribs.

  She made little stabbing motions all over her body. Laughed.

  Then threw knife to ground.

  Even after everything he’d just heard, that little display with her special knife was so grotesque, so calculating, and so macabre that it sent a chill over Dale.

  He was in a bad situation

  A very, very bad situation..

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Taft had Nash by the arm—feigning their prisoner/guard relationship—and he pulled him around a corner into a hallway.

  “I just got this note,” Taft said quietly. He handed Nash a sheet of paper, a handwritten note.

  Nash started reading. He immediately recognized the handwriting as Dale’s.

  Sir,

  Investigation is corrupt. Detective Bill Sadler and Clyde Bowen run a sexual fetish operation out of Sullivan’s bar, taking women to cave off hiking trail. Re: the murders, Sadler is trying to cover Bowen’s tracks and get the blame placed on someone else. He admitted this to me personally. I’ve taken Mira Lyndon into protection until I can get this cleared. Hiding at the cave. Trust no one. Sadler knows the truth.

  Dale

  P.S. Have you been working out, sir? Looking trim. Meow!!

  “That’s what he wouldn’t tell me,” Nash said. “The son of a bitch was trying to protect me.”

  “Look,” Taft said.

  Taft nodded toward the opposite side of the hall, and when Nash looked, he saw Sadler opening the men’s bathroom door. He went inside.

  Taft looked at Nash, and there was a coy, mischievous twinkle in his eye.

  “Come on. It’s time to take a page from Conley’s book,” Taft said and headed toward the bathroom. “Let’s go rogue.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Dale looked from the modified knife—on the ground where Mira had tossed it—and back to Mira.

  He gave her an uncomfortable smile. “One thing I don’t understand—and perhaps my motivations are a bit selfish here—is why you’ve chained this guy to the wall.”

  “Don’t you see? This was never part of the plan. I wasn’t supposed to get kidnapped from the hospital by some special agent who strolled into town and figured out Bill’s involvement. I had to come up with a plan fast. And then we end up here, and you’re just so steadfast about the case, about catching Clyde. I know you would have never given up, not until you caught him. You’re tenacious. But of course you’d never be able to catch Clyde. So I had to do something. You needed to be restrained. Until I was sure you understand the destiny of all this.”

  “You’re right. I don’t understand. Destiny?”

  “It’s destiny that we’ve ended up here together. Here. In this cave.” She gestured grandly. “Who could have planned that you’d take me from the hospital? But here we are. Two people who have been through so much. All the things Clyde to me. And the things Allie did to you. We’re the same.”

  “Allie may not have always been the best, but she didn’t come close to doing what Clyde did to you.”

  “No woman should ever hurt a man like you,” she said, her face deadly serious.

  “Okay, let’s pretend you’re right and this is destiny. You have me tied up. Now what? What’s your plan?”

  “I’ve fallen in love with you, Dale Conley. My plan is simple: to be with you.”

  Dale looked at the chain.

  “I see. Great courtship practices.”

  “Now I need something from you.”

  “I’m a captive audience at the moment, so I’m all ears.”

  “I need Allie’s last name.”

  Dale’s pulse suddenly quickened at the request. “Why?”

  “So I can locate her. You said she lives in Alexandria, Virginia. I need the last name to find her address. I’m going to drive up there.” She smiled. “And I’m going to slice her throat.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  As Nash stood with Taft outside the bathroom, he sensed a rush of excitement he hadn’t felt in three years, not since he was an FBI agent.

  Sure, he’d had several adventures already during this assignment when he was still with Dale—chasing the killer through the Promenade and into the Fordyce bathhouse sprang to mind—but during all of those things with Dale, he had felt like a hanger-on, a third wheel. And, in a way, that had been his official capacity. Dale had brought him on as a consultant, after all, and had done his best to shield Nash from any sort of danger or scintillating intrigue.

  But now, with Taft, Nash felt like he was truly on a mission. There was a goal, something good that needed to be done, some wrong that needed to be righted.

  And there was the adrenaline thrill of danger thrown in as well.

  Nash hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

  The door opened, and out walked Sadler. He was wiping his hands together, drying the last bit of water off them. When he saw Taft and Nash staring at them, he stopped, gave them a funny look.

  “We know what you’re doing, Sadler.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Protecting the serial killer. Clyde Bowen. Your friend.”

  Sadler let out a little chuckle. “That’s a pretty bold accusation.”

  “Oh yeah. And how about this one? That you and Bowen run some sort of sexual perversion operation in town, and now you’ve taken it up a notch or two. Started killing them off, planning on hiding behind your badge.”

  Sadler’s mouth opened, confidence giving way to fear.

  He looked down the hall. There’s a boiler room to the side, door cracked open. He nodded toward it.

  “I’ll hear you out, but if you’re gonna besmirch my name, let’s do this in private.”

  He walked into the boiler room. Nash and Taft follow.

  “All right, so just what makes you think—”

  Taft swung the door shut. He aimed his Detective’s Special at Sadler.

  Sadler looked at the gun.

  “Jesus Christ! Are you nuts?? I’m a cop! I’m the detective in charge of this investigation!”

  “And I’m the head of a covert operation, and you heard Ventress—we answer to know one. And I know you’re in on this, Sadler. So let’s make this easy on everyone. Get his gun, Harbick.”

  Nash took Sadler.

  Sadler was panicked now.

  “How long has Clyde Bowen been chopping up girls?”

  “S: I don’t know. I … just don’t know. I swear, I had no clue he was going to go that far.”

  “Nash: And when Mira Lyndon went to the hospital alive, you knew that when she was eventually going to identify Bowen. And you went out looking for him. Trying to cover for him.”

  “That’s right. Because eventually everything was going to come back to what we did to women. But I swear we never even talked about killing anyone! We just tied them up, choked that sort of shit.”

  “At the cave.”

  “How the hell do you know about the cave??”

  “Shut up. Where is it?”

  Sadler opened his mouth, looked away. For a mo
ment he was quiet, I starting side to side, clearly thinking about his options. In the didn't take Long for him to realize that he had. He looked back to them. “Out off Goat Trail. Just before the bend in the trail, you go east off the trail until you hit another rock face. It’s small. About five feet across.”

  “You’d better not be lying, Sadler.”

  “I’m not. I swear.”

  “Good. Thanks for you help.”

  Taft slugged him, knocking him unconscious. He took Sadler’s handcuffs and secured him to the boiler.

  Taft stood up.

  “We gotta save Conley. Let’s go find that cave before Ventress and her team does.”

  Chapter Fifty

  “You must be out of your mind,” Dale said.

  Mira shrugged.

  “Yeah. Right. How silly of me,” he said.

  “I need her name, Dale.”

  He shook his head.

  “No way.”

  “She hurt you. You’re still hurt. No one hurts you. The name.”

  Dale shook his head, jaw set, locking eyes with her.

  “The name.”

  He didn't respond.

  “Give me the bitch’s name.”

  Anger spiked inside Dale. “Don’t you call her that.”

  “Oh, you do love her, don’t you? Still protecting her. You’re supposed to love me now. Don’t you get that? Tell me. Tell me you love me.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t.”

  Mira smiled. “I know how to make you love me.”

  She unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, looking up at him and smiling she did it.

  Then she kissed his chest. Moved a bit lower and kissed some.

  Her lips traced farther and farther down, going toward his pants.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Ventress had Greg Fulton cornered against the wall, and she couldn’t believe how such a large, poison man could look so uncomfortable. He was acting tough, to be sure, but she could tell that he wanted to be anywhere but standing there with her.

  “Are you freaking kidding me, Fulton? What the hell did you think you were doing letting Harbick go with Taft? Taft’s clearly biased to Conley’s side.”

  “Listen, lady. I don’t take orders from you,” Fulton said, straightening his tie. “You’re not my boss, and—”

  From her scant interactions with him in the board room during the pseudo-trial and this first one-on-one, Ventress could tell that Fulton was a prideful and insolent man. She wouldn’t suffer either of those qualities in the men around her.

  “Don’t call me ‘lady.’ Until this all gets sorted out, you bet I’m your boss, your mother, and your goddamn Messiah rolled into one. Where the hell did Taft go when…”

  She faded off.

  She saw Taft and Nash at the other end of the hotel, in the lobby.

  Heading toward for the front doors.

  “Shit! Where are my guys?”

  She frantically scanned the area around her for her tactical team. They were nowhere in sight.

  She looked back to the hotel’s entrance.

  Taft and Nash pushed through the doors, took a left, and disappeared.

  “Shit!”

  She looked at Fulton. Turned away. Took a step to the side. Scanned the hotel for her team again. And then stepped back to Fulton, looked up at him.

  “We’ll have to do this just the two of us.”

  Fulton raised a hand, shook his head, started to reply in the negative. “I’m not here to—”

  “Let’s go,” Ventress said and grabbed the arm of his expensive suit jacket. “You’re coming with me. How do you like that for an order?”

  She dashed toward the doors, tugging him along with her.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Mira finished what she’d been doing, and she wiped her lips.

  Keeping her feet on either side of his legs, she stood up on the mattress. She giggled as she wobbled on the springs, and when she’d regained her balance, she shimmied out of her panties, which she then tossed onto the cave floor.

  She squatted back down and grabbed him hard.

  Dale grunted.

  “Well, you sure seem like a consenting adult to me,” she said with a smile.

  Dale craned his neck backwards and glanced at his shackled hands. “The chains might say otherwise.”

  She scooted forward a couple inches on the mattress, still holding him, then moved her hips back down.

  And they were together again.

  Her eyes closed, and she shuddered. She lay down on his chest, began violently thrusting, moaning while she did.

  And as this happened, with her face right below Dale’s on his chest, he saw the same effect he’d seen the first time they’d had sex.

  Allie’s face in place of hers.

  Maybe the stress had gotten to Dale. Or maybe he was just losing his damn mind.

  Because now he realized that those images of Allie weren’t just small figments of his imagination, fragments of memories.

  No, he was actually hallucinating.

  But, hell, in this situation, he’d let it happen. It would be a way out of another round of sex with a serial killer.

  He let Allie in…

  And it seemed so real. He remembered things he’d forgotten. The feel of that long, auburn hair draping down on his chest, swiping side to side, back and forth. The smiles and little noises that she made.

  And other things that he hadn’t forgotten. Things he could never forget. The curves of her form when she was above, how his hands fit perfectly. And her hands, on his shoulders. Neck arched back. The little laugh before she felt the best.

  It was real.

  Or, it sure as hell felt real.

  He was with Allie.

  But then…

  He wasn't.

  Mira again.

  Her hard thrusts, getting to her goal, the little noises of exertion and enjoyment. Banging him to make him love him.

  When it was over, she stayed on his chest, panting.

  “Oh, Dale. Oh, Dale…”

  She remained like that for a few long moments. Then she looked up at him.

  “Do you love me now?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to give me Allie’s last name?”

  “No.”

  Mira stood up and stepped off the mattress.

  She stood over him, looking down. Suddenly a smile of ecstasy came to her face. She began to twist while standing in place, like a slow, sensuous dance, hands exploring herself, going below.

  And when she spoke next, she sang. Like a child. One child taunting another.

  “I have you insiiiiiide me,” she sang, glancing down, her hands rubbing in circles over her stomach. She looked up and spoke in her normal tone. “You have to love me now. Know why? Timing. I’m as fertile as a tilled field.”

  Dale scoffed. “Oh, yeah? Well, the joke’s on you, psycho. I had my boys snipped a long time ago.”

  She looked at him for a moment. It was clear she couldn’t quite comprehend that she’d been bested that quickly. After all, she was used to having her schemes work out. Just look at all the women she’d chopped up…

  “That’s okay,” she said finally. “You don’t have to tell me you love me. Not yet. You never told Allie, after all. You’ll love me soon enough. What you do have to tell me is her name.”

  “Up yours.”

  Mira huffed, the first sign of frustration from her. “I’ve tried pleading, I’ve tried being sexy, I’ve tried blackmail.”

  She got on the mattress, straddled him.

  “Don’t make me resort to pain. Don’t make me hurt you.” She looked at him for a moment, giving him a chance.

  The sound of the word pain coming at him as a threat from a person who had recently killed four people—dismembering two of them—sent a cold wave of panic over Dale’s flesh.

  But he didn’t let it show. He couldn't. He bit his tongue, kept it in.
>
  “The name,” she said.

  Dale said nothing back.

  “What’s her name?”

  She slapped him.

  Burning, tight pain on his cheek.

  Dale didn’t budge.

  “The name!” she screeched so loud that it made his ears ring.

  And for just a moment, right when those two words escaped her lips, she’d looked evil. Lips pulled back, wet with saliva. Eyebrows in a harsh V. Flushed skin.

  He wouldn’t have thought that beautiful Mira Lyndon could look ugly. Repulsive. But for that brief moment, she’d been disgusting.

  Like some sort of demon.

  A monster.

  She composed herself. Took a couple breaths. And watched Dale, waiting, giving him another chance.

  When he did nothing, there was another slap. Harder. Strong enough to snap his head to the side.

  “Her name!”

  She swung again.

  “The name!”

  Another slap. And another. Swinging freely now. Both hands, whipping his face side to side. She slapped him over and over. His cheeks grew hot and numb with the pain.

  Then she balled her hands and pounded him with fists, hard, into the chest. Bringing them down like little hammers. Alternating left and right. Biting her lip with concentration and rage.

  And when she saw that she was having no effect, she interlaced her fingers, forming a club that she brought down onto his chest, over and over.

  Dale remembered how the “stranger” had done this in the Fordyce Bathhouse, after jumping out of the changing room—a pair of interlaced hands that had slugged Dale across the jaw.

  He remained resolute, lips shut tight in a thin line.

  The fist-club pounded his chest.