Guarding Light (42 page)

   "Come on, Gard, you are losing it. Mackenzie got him."

   "Is this a private conversation or can I join in?"

   Jack looked up to see Tasha standing in the doorway. "How is she?"

   "Well, hello to you too, Jack."

   "Sorry Tasha, I am just so worried about her."

   "If the Slasher is dead, why are you worried?"

   "What did she say?" Jack asked without answering.

   "She is convinced the Jenks guy is not the one."

   Jack stood and paced in front of the pictures of the five beautiful women who had lost their lives to a sadistic animal, roaming the streets of Newburgh. They each were good looking in their own right, but they also all held a strong resemblance to Catlyn. A chill ran down his spine.

   "Did you see something at her place, what she was working on?"

   "While she was talking to that Jason asshole," Jack raised his eyebrows at her hostility, "I spotted some interesting papers and property deeds on her table. And the name Vickers was circled in red ink."

   "Vickers? Now why does that sound so fami—"

   "Isn't that the name of the little island you were on today? Where you found Agent Mackenzie?"

   "Yeah, you're right. It's called Vickers Isle." Jack shrugged, "But, that isn't why the name is familiar to me." He went to his office. On his desk he started looking at file names and tossing them aside. Towards the bottom of the second pile Jack tried, he held aloft a file in victory. "Here it is."

   Jack scanned the contents until he found the reason the name Vickers was so familiar. "Allison Jane Vickers Dalton married Macson."

   "That's the murder victim in '69, right? The one the kid was forced to watch? The one Catlyn thinks created this nut job Slasher?"

   Jack was only half listening to Tasha he nodded in answer as he reasoned aloud. "Now, Catlyn said Mackenzie was checking old property deeds in Dalton's and Macson's names, following their transfers from person to person. She was checking on the off chance that the Slasher inherited and still owned the land and was using it as the primary crime scene. The Slasher's profile calls for him to have access to land set back from the main stream. The psychotic prick needs his privacy. The last name of the father and step-father was probably a wash. So, Mackenzie decided to check the mother's maiden name and hit pay-dirt."

   "Vickers Isle is perfect. It's set far from the main stream."

   "Yes, but regardless of how it appeared today, it isn't the primary scene. He likes to torture the women, hear them scream. Sound travels over water better than the top acoustics." Jack slapped the folder down on his desk. "Believe me, if someone was being tortured over there at night, we would have gotten plenty of 911 calls."

   "There was more than one deed in Vickers name. I couldn't see how many but there were more than two."

   Jack booted up his computer. "You don't have to stay Tasha."

   "Puhlease! I am not going to let you drive yourself crazy here all night by yourself." She took off her jacket and put down her purse. "Just do what you got to do and I will make the coffee."

****

   Catlyn came awake slowly. Her skin felt as though ants crawled along her entire body, including her scalp. Her teeth felt hollow. Her eyes were gritty.

   "I'll give your body some more time to get rid of the crawly flesh feeling from the Taser. I want you to really feel what I do to you whore."

   Catlyn's eyes flew wide. Anderson's face was only inches from hers. His black eyes shone brightly with an evil gleam. Catlyn hadn't been this afraid since she turned around and came face to face with J.T. Dark 25 years ago. Anderson had the same unstable, crazy look, gone was his pleasant façade. He hid his deranged musings well. Catlyn would have guessed anyone else she had met in Newburgh since her returned to be the Slasher rather than the deceptively good natured detective. Damn, she would have even chosen Rider before Anderson.

   Forcing her heart to stop its frantic beating, controlling her fear, she took in her surroundings. She was in a finished basement. It was large, divided into two sections of equal size. On the opposite side was furniture, a TV. It was outfitted to be a guy's playroom. What Sanchez referred to as a 'Man Cave'. The side she was on could be described as a workshop of sorts. Various tools lined the walls. Some Catlyn recognized, like a hammer, wrench and even a set of screwdrivers, some Catlyn had no idea what the tool was named or of its use. She shuddered at the shiny metallic implements, trying not to think about what Anderson actually used them for. Several of the crime scene photos flashed through her mind.

   Shaking those kinds of images from her mind she took stock. He had her tied down spread-eagle to a makeshift table or workbench. She tested the ropes. There wasn't even a little give, in fact the ropes cut into the tender skin of her wrists, slowing circulation. Thankfully she was still dressed.

   "Oh, you won't get away." Anderson leaned even further over her. He crushed her mouth with his. Catlyn gagged, turning her mouth away. A cruel hand pulled her hair, forcing her mouth back to his. He tasted of coffee and cigarettes. His large tongue bathed her outer lips in slimy saliva. Nausea gripped Catlyn's insides, causing her to dry heave.

   "Bitch!" He lifted her head by her hair and slammed it into the table. "You're just like the rest, like
her
. You don't like your own kind."

   He reached for an item off a cart he pulled next to the table. Catlyn screamed out when she saw the flash of a blade. "No! Tyron, no, no, no!" He raised his hand, fist tightly gripping the handle of the hunting knife. Survival instinct struck and Catlyn changed her voice, "Miles! No, Miles!"

   His downward stroke suddenly stopped inches from her stomach. He stared at her, tilting his head. "You sound like her."

   Without revealing her quaking, she gave him what she hoped passed for a loving look and smile. "Miles, please, talk to me. Tell me what you're feeling."

   He tilted his head in the opposite direction. His eyes becoming less glazed. "Tawny, you want to hear about my feelings?" His question was wistful.

   While she nodded eagerly at Tyron, Catlyn silently sent out a plea. Please, Jack, find me. You said you would always find me. Please, God, help Jack find me.

****

   Jack knocked at Catlyn's door. He still had the key but did not want to be accused of disrespecting her again. He had gone over the deeds for Vickers' properties. It was surprising how many listings there were. Jack had also check that the property taxes were paid in full and current. Apparently, there was an heir to the Vickers' fortune. He had left a voicemail for the lawyer who was on record of being executor of the Vickers' Estate.

   Impatiently he knocked again. Perhaps she was ignoring him. He knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, not with Mackenzie's condition still in question. Deciding Catlyn couldn't get any angrier than she already was, Jack used the key.

   Immediately he knew something was wrong. The still air in the room pressed in on him. Jack drew his gun. Even though he knew Catlyn wasn't in the small apartment he called out for her and then checked every room.

   He holstered his weapon and pulled out his cell. He called Catlyn. Fear settled deep in his being when her phone rang from across the room. Jack picked it up. His name with a little red heart next to it appeared on Catlyn's screen. Clicking end on both phones, setting hers back on the counter, he went back into her bedroom and checked the gun safe. He swore when he saw her weapon nestled safely in its place. He called another number. "Rider, Catlyn is gone. Did she say anything about leaving?"

   Jack listened knowing what Rider's answer would be. "Meet me at Catlyn's. I think she went to check out some property. There are about 7 places that fit the criteria in the Slasher profile. I'll call Anderson too. We can split them between us. You and Anderson can take two and I will take three."

   Jack hung up and hit the one-key program for Anderson. There was no answer. He left a brief message. Where the hell was Anderson?

   Jack was closing Catlyn's door when the lights hit off glitter on the floor in a circular pattern. Going in for a closer inspection, kneeling, Jack rubbed a hand over the scattered confetti-like pieces. He picked up the tiny circles. He was about to pocket some of the glittering chips when it slammed into him what he was seeing. They were little confetti discs that ejected from a Taser. The little pieces had a serial number etched on it, which could be read using the right magnifying equipment. They were used to identify a specific Taser.

   Someone had recently used a Taser in Catlyn's apartment. Jack stood and using his cell called in a BOLO for Supervisory Special Agent Lyte. Even if he didn't have this impeding feeling of doom grip him, Jack knew on an intimate level that Catlyn was in trouble and needed him. Running to his car Jack whispered, "I am coming, Kitten, hold on."

Chapter 16

   Catlyn held her breath as she tried not to flinch as Detective Tyron Anderson drew lazy patterns across her, now, bare stomach with the tip of his knife. He had cut her clothes from her body ages ago. His ramblings on had turned into incoherent mutterings, also a while ago. Catlyn lost the distinction of time. She knew they were underground, no windows, meant no way to clock the change of time.

   When Anderson had first called her Tawny, Catlyn played off his break with reality to stop his stabbing her. As long as she spoke in calming interested voice, he was content to tell her things. He had a lot to say. He had started with telling her about his dad's lessons on women. They were faithless sluts and his dad had showed him how the faithless should be treated. If they behaved as sluts and whores then they were treated as such. His mother was a faithless whore who had dishonored his father while he was away fighting for his country. She had betrayed him, their country and her own race and heritage! Not only had she left him for another man but a white man! How could she?

   Catlyn had listened without judging, allowing him to have his sense of security in her. He said he wouldn't be like his father, he would find a faithful, wonderful woman. And she would honor and love him. It was when he started to talk about finding and falling for her in college that he started to remove her clothes one slash at a time. He explained how he watched her from afar.

   "Tawny you were so beautiful!" He cut a slash in her shirt. Catlyn held her scream in, forcing her tears back.

   "It was like the sun was inside you. You shone so brightly, so sweet and caring," Slash went the other side of her sweat shirt. He threw the tattered remains to the floor.

   His insane eyes grew even blacker with rage. "You didn't even see me. Before I could make my move Carl made his." He gave a good natured smile, looking handsome. "But, it was ok, Carl is black like me. It was ok to choose another worthy one. I forgave you."

   Suddenly his lashed out. The heat of the blade scoring her skin across her abdomen, "But, then you went to the pale version." With mean hands he gripped her breasts. "I saw you in his car, letting him touch these beautiful tits, meant for a black man, letting him put his unworthy white hands all over these." He pulled and twisted her nipples.

   Catlyn couldn't hold in the scream. "T-tyron, Tawny's dead. You taught her a lesson already. You don't have to do th-this." She tried to bring him back to reality. "Detective Anderson, it's me, Agent Lyte. You don't have to do this. T-tawny learned her lesson. Y-you can stop now. Miles, you can stop, now."

   His eyes abruptly cleared. He was Detective Tyron Anderson again. Not the traumatized little boy, Miles Dalton, Jr. Catlyn gave a jerky relieved sigh, catching her breath. Her relief was short. The knife flashed again and she felt stinging pain and the warm wetness of her blood spilling. Her scream was not as loud but just as terrified.

****

   Jack got in his car, leaving yet another dead end. The property had no buildings on it, hidden or otherwise. He was getting more frustrated by the minute. And, more scared for Catlyn every second, there had been no sign of her all night. He had just started the engine when his cell rang. Leaving the car in park, he answered, hoping it was Anderson. Jack had not been able to reach him all night either. He had called in Sanchez, Jason and several uniformed officers on the search. They only had one property left to search. Jack had saved the farthest one out for last.

   "Gard."

   "Chief of Detectives Jack Gard?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

   "Yes."

   "Good morning, chief. I apologize for the early hour, but your message sounded urgent. This is Malcom Devry, executor of the Vickers estate."

   "Yes, thank you for getting back to me so quickly. It is very important."

   "Well, I wish I had better news. I am afraid the VickersDalton line has been severed, there are no biological heirs. They had a son, Miles Dalton, Jr. but he died in the 1990s."

   "So who owns all this un-used land?"

   "Although it's a slight break in client confidentiality, I suppose it couldn't harm anything to tell you Miles Dalton, Jr. had a will. When he died he left all he owned to a friend."

   "A friend not a relative?" Jack was confused, "Who?"

   There was a long pause. "It's against client-counsel privilege, but I understand this is somehow regarding the Slasher case that's been in the news."

   "Yes, Mr. Devry it does. You would be helping to tie up loose ends in the case."

   "Very well, Miles Dalton, Jr. was killed while on deployment in Afghanistan in 1995. He bequeathed all his worldly possession to his comrade in arms, army Private Tyron Anderson."

****

   Catlyn was in so much pain. The tiny cuts Anderson delivered all over her stomach and chest stung. Her breasts and nipples ached incessantly from the abuse he had inflicted. And the stab wound to her side still slowly seeped blood. Catlyn's mouth went dry from blood loss. Her vision was blurry. She heard a ringing in her ears. She barely felt it when Anderson untied her legs and positioned himself between them. Catlyn's hope left her. Although she was very grateful she was too weak and fading fast to really be aware of raped for the second time in her life.