Humpty Dumpty: The killer wants us to put him back together again (Book 1 of the Nursery Rhyme Murders Series) (35 page)

Once more, Preston had gotten the jump on him. This young asshole of a stoner kid was outthinking him at every step, and it was pissing Joshua off in a way that he hadn’t been pissed off in a long, long time.

He had to warn Officer Rogers. If this trap had been here waiting for them, with another layered on top of it to take out anyone that came to help, Rogers was in serious danger. Joshua glanced at the bale of hay. Officer Marco’s body was trapped underneath. As bad as that was, the policeman as already dead. The real problem with the bale was that Marco’s radio was now stuck beneath two thousand pounds of hay.

But right now, Joshua was having a hard time inhaling deep enough to get the oxygen he needed, much less call out across an entire warehouse with tons of hay to muffle the sound.

Didn’t matter. It had to be done. Not only did Rogers need to be warned, but he also had the only other radio. Joshua needed it to get a hold of Reggie and Agent Cooper.

He pushed himself upright, using his right arm as much as possible. The pain lanced through his side, taking away what breath he had and causing stars to dance in front of his eyes.

Well, it wasn’t going to get any better by waiting. Joshua began to inhale, when there was a dull thud that shook the building, resonating in his chest. An explosion, one partially dampened by the surrounding hay.

Shit.

Rogers had tripped another trap. That was the most likely scenario. That not only meant that another officer was down, but they had most likely lost their only remaining access to a radio. Joshua pulled his cell phone out, hoping against hope.

No reception.

He rotated, pinpointing the direction from which the detonation had originated. But as he began moving toward the source, almost praying in his desperation that something would be left of the other officer, he saw an orange glow that was beginning to grow on the other side of the building.

The hay was on fire.

* * *

Things had not gone any better for Preston. Had almost felt bad for him. Except for the part where Preston was trying to terrify him before separating him limb from limb, that was. Hard to sympathize with the guy that was going to kill you.

The containment box had not turned out all that well. Not only was Had not afraid of enclosed spaces in the slightest, but he’d managed to recover a good portion of his strength with a lovely power nap. Good to be well rested. It helped to prepare you for the psychological torture to follow.

Right now, Preston was stalking back and forth in front of Had, who was back in the chair, tied hand and foot again. Every once in a while, Preston would glare at him, as if to tell what might get through his thick skin and worm a scare or two out of him. Had was almost ready to just fake it. But he wasn’t sure how fast Preston’s endgame would follow if he thought that Had was afraid. It felt like that might be the only thing that was keeping him alive at this point.

“How the hell are you doing this?” Preston yelled suddenly, stopping in front of Had and jabbing his index finger at Had’s pecs. “There has to be something…
something
that frightens you.”

Had thought about it. There was plenty he was frightened of, but every single one of those things had one thing in common.

Mama.

Without her, the whole thing just fell apart. There wasn’t anything a weasely gas station attendant could muster that would even come close to the kind of hell that Mama could rain down when she got her dander up.

And it wasn’t like she was abusive. She was just creative. There was this thing that she called “natural consequences” that were anything but natural. Only Mama could make standing outside naked on the curb while cars passed by and people pointed a natural consequence. Once for making out with his girlfriend in the backseat of the family car, she’d made him hold up a sign that read, “I like to get nekkid in public places.” She’d insisted on the spelling of “nekkid”.

The punishment itself wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was when Mama got all quiet and disappointed. That was the danger point. He could always tell when it was really bad. The yelling stopped.

“I do understand, you know,” Had told him.

Preston turned to face him. “What are you talking about?” There was an odd tone to his voice. Hopeful? Disbelieving? Had couldn’t tell.

“The reason you can’t scare me is because of my mother.”

The killer’s face went soft, almost blank. “She… she hurt you?”

“Sometimes,” Had admitted. “We’re the same in that way. But the thing is… we’re still really different.”

“No, we’re not,” Preston answered back, that same tone coloring his voice even more. “You’re just like me. Our parents hurt us. They taught us fear.”

“Yeah, but here’s the thing,” Had continued, knowing what this would do to his friend, but knowing he had to do it anyway. “I know my mother loves me. Can you say the same about your dad?”

Preston’s face twisted up, and he turned away from Had as his shoulders shook. He was crying, his body racked with silent sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Preston.”

And then, Had’s friend got quiet. He slowly straightened up his back, rolling his shoulders as if to get rid of tension there. When he faced Had once more, he was composed, his face hard.

It was clear that Preston was very angry.

“Well, it’s not the same, but maybe I just need to be more direct here,” Preston said, wrinkling his nose in apparent disdain. “Take off a couple of fingers and then maybe we can change your views on humanity… And parenting.”

Well, now things had taken a turn for the worse. Had was pretty sure that he could deal with the pain… he’d had plenty of accidents as a kid, and even as a younger man. But losing fingers and limbs meant no more work with the BAU. No more police work. No more work at all, at least not for the kinds of things that Had was good at.

He had no desire to lose any appendages.

This was a tight spot. If he faked fear of something, he could be hastening his own death. But if he didn’t, he would start losing little bits of himself. Before he was killed. Which made it that much more uncomfortable.

“Preston, I know you’re hurting, man. But you don’t have to do this.” Had pleaded, hoping against hope to get through to him.

For a moment, Had thought that Preston would just ignore him. But then he began speaking in an undertone, almost too quiet to hear at first.

“People need to know how fear feels. They think they do, but they don’t. I look around at the flat faces around me, and they don’t know terror.” As Preston spoke, his voice got louder and louder. As he finished, it was almost a scream. “I’m here to teach them.”

He looked into Had’s eyes. His voice dropped back down to a whisper.

“I’m here to teach
you
.”

Okay, that was a little scary. Maybe not Mama level, but he was getting there.

The tension between them extended into what felt like an eternal moment, when all of the sudden there was an explosion that sounded from above. Preston’s eyes darted up toward the ceiling as dust filtered down through the beam of his penlight that he pointed up above his head.

Preston snatched up a roll of duct tape, ripped off a length and slapped it across Had’s mouth. “Looks like we have some company. You sit tight. I’ve got a couple of your friends to chop up.”

Thrashing about in his chair and straining against his bonds, Had screamed at the top of his lungs, but the sound died a couple of feet out. There was nothing he could do to warn his friends as the killer stalked off to confront them. It may or may not have been on purpose, but Preston had finally succeeded.

Had was now terrified.

CHAPTER 24

The farming equipment that was housed all around Sariah and the two local cops loomed over them and lurked, ready to pounce on them in equal measures. Their flashlights only lit sections of the giant pieces of machinery, giving them glimpses of chipped paint, metal and chrome that accentuated the oppressive atmosphere. It felt as if the machinery was there to trap them within the building, or possibly to tear them to shreds when they least expected it.

The building smelt of oil, diesel fuel and mulch. It was a combination that would have caused the dark to take on an almost homey personality, except that it was juxtaposed with the task they had ahead of them.

Sariah peered through the darkness, shining her flashlight ahead of her. There was a door on the far wall that looked promising. It might be the entrance to the staircases leading up and down. The chance that Preston was holed up underground seemed the most logical assumption, but she was doubting every single one of her decisions. Even still, as they neared the doorway, Sariah felt her pace increasing.

And then her cell rang.

Another mistake. She should have turned the phone off, except that she had assumed there wasn’t enough reception to receive a call. She pulled out the phone.

It was Ms. Hadderly again.

She waved the two cops ahead of her as she answered. If it had been anyone other than Had’s mom, there’s no way she would have bothered doing so in the midst of a search like this. But she after everything that she’d done to cause this situation in the first place, she couldn’t avoid it.

“Did you hang up on me before, Ms. Fancy-Pants FBI Agent?”

“No, Ms. Hadderly,” Sariah answered, trying to keep her emotions in check. “We just don’t have any reception out here.”

“Right,” the woman answered with a bite in her tone. “That’s what my son says when he doesn’t want to talk to me. And if you can’t get any reception, then why are you talkin’ to me right now?”

“Ms. Hadderly, I didn’t want you to worry even more. We’re right in the middle of a search to find your son’s captor.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me, you… I’m getting… on my…” And once more, the call cut out. She fought down the tears that wanted to resurface, hardening her resolve. If she couldn’t do it for herself, maybe she could do it for a scared mother.

She tucked the phone back into her pants pocket, and started to call out to the officers ahead of her, when she noticed a discoloration on the floor where Officers Chance and Jensen were walking. What was that?

And then the cops weren’t there, and in their place was a gaping hole in the ground. She rushed to the edge, kneeling at the lip and shining her light down into the pit. When she saw what was down there, she wished she hadn’t.

Broken blades, shards of unidentifiable metal and rebar pointed up toward her. The two officers were sprawled amongst the protruding spikes, looking almost like they were resting. One of the pieces of rebar had thrust through Officer Chance’s neck, its bloody end pointing up at Sariah like an accusation.

She felt the contents of her stomach surging up, seeking to follow the officers down to the bottom of the pit. After a deep breath and a moment of focus, the nausea subsided, and Sariah realized that if it hadn’t been for the call, she would be down there with a spike through the back of her head like Jensen. At this very moment, she couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

She felt a whiff of air above her and flattened herself on the ground as a huge blade swung down, slicing through the air. Its arc passed though where her head would have been if she’d been standing at the edge of the pit. The fact that she had decided to kneel had saved her life. She’d ruminate on the symbolism in that at another time.

Right now, she had a serial killer to attend to.

* * *

Joshua pulled a corner of his shirt up and placed it over his mouth, doing what he could to filter out the smoke. There was nothing he could do for the heat.

An inferno raged around him as the dry alfalfa hay around him acted as super tinder, catching flame with the smallest of sparks. He had searched for a door as he had to dodge the ever-increasing amount of flame and smoke that was filling up the building.

At least he didn’t have to worry about a light source any longer. Not that the visibility was much better with the haze that was getting lower and lower. Joshua crouched down as he ran, doing what he could to keep out of the toxic fumes.

And then he found it. A door, leading out of the nightmare raging around him. He grabbed a hold of the handle and went to open it. Locked.

Desperate to get out of the blistering heat, Joshua looked around him for something he could use to break his way through the door. All around him, embers blew about in the wind caused by the rapid change in temperature, each spark carrying with it another competing blaze.

The flames flickered with an intensity and randomness that caused reality to warp. Distances became indistinct and shapes wavered in the heat, but as Joshua continued to scan the space around him, he spotted an area just beyond a stack of burning hay bales. It was a place that was relatively free of the fires that raged almost everywhere at this point. And in its center was an enormous tractor with a hay baler behind it.

Maybe he could jump start the tractor and ram the vehicle into the door. It felt like a long shot, but it was the only option he could see working right now. He certainly couldn’t break the door down himself, considering the shape of his ribcage right now.

A change in air pressure alerted him. Joshua spun around, seeing that the door was now open. And coming forth from the darkness beyond was Preston. He carried a gun in one hand and what looked like a heavy metal pipe in the other.

“Hey there, Joshua,” Preston called out, his tone mocking. “Congrats, dude. You made it past my welcome mat.” He held the gun leveled at Joshua’s head.

“What can I say? I’m a resilient bastard,” Joshua replied, cursing himself. Why didn’t he have his weapon out? His feelings of awkwardness with a new gun had caused him to holster it, and now there was no way he could pull his weapon before Preston shot him through the head. Besides the fact that Joshua wasn’t sure his ribs would allow him to get it out at all.

“’Scuse me,” Preston said, as he moved closer.

He reached his hand around Joshua’s side for the holster, his own gun trained on Joshua’s head the entire time. As Preston slipped the Glock free, Joshua couldn’t help but release a hiss of pain as the movement bit into his broken ribs. Preston took a step back, grinning.