Kill Switch: A Vigilante Serial Killer Action Thriller (Angel of Darkness Suspense Thriller Series Book 1) (4 page)

Nowadays, she did what she did because it needed doing. Simple as that. In the same way a firefighter couldn’t help but run into a burning building to save a child, so she couldn’t turn a blind eye to some vile piece of scum abusing another innocent victim.

Fifty-three.

To the majority of the population she’d be a serial killer. To the handful who knew the truth, an angel.

Life? Life was sacrifice. And she sacrificed so that others didn’t have to.

Tess lowered herself to the strip of lawn between a couple of the brick buildings and then gazed around.

From the building opposite, a man with both arms plastered with tattoos shuffled out. He stopped, leaned against the wall and mopped tears from his eyes.

Tess had been in that building already so she’d seen what was inside. She didn’t want to see it again. Not even in her mind’s eye. But she couldn’t stop the image blasting into view. In that building earlier, words, even thoughts, had failed her. Staring openmouthed, she’d stood before a room containing a mountain of human hair that the Nazis had shaved off the dead to stuff mattresses or weave into cloth for soldiers’ uniforms.

With a frown, Tess heaved a breath. Even though she’d seen it for herself, she still couldn’t get her head around the horrors of this place. It was simply too difficult for a person in today’s world to comprehend what had gone on here.

Cross-legged on the grass, she peered up the tree-lined avenue. Auschwitz was a place of true nightmares and yet, if she hadn’t known its history, it looked like a run-down college campus. Strange. Except…

It was so eerily quiet.

She checked the sky and then at the trees dotted along the avenue.

Why didn’t the birds sing here?

Did the authorities poison them to imbue the place with an otherworldly atmosphere befitting its hellish past? Or could animals truly sense the evils that had been done here?

An old lady hobbled toward Tess and then stood just a few feet away, studying the buildings.

After a few moments, she turned to Tess and spoke excellent English with an Eastern European accent. “Do you know where the gas chambers are, please?”

Tess pointed back the way she’d just walked. “To the end, through the wire fences, and turn left.”

“Oh, it sounds quite far.”

“A few minutes’ walk, maybe.”

“Oh, dear.” The old lady sighed. “Would you mind if I sit to rest a moment to get my strength back?”

Tess gestured to the grass. “Please.” She’d rather stare down a gunman than indulge in pointless chitchat, but if a person couldn’t show a little tolerance and kindness here of all places, they had no soul.

“Thank you.”

The old lady tottered closer and then simply stood, scanning the grass at her feet as if a chair might magically appear.

Tess held out her hand. “Can you manage?”

The lady took it and then carefully lowered herself to sit. “Thank you. I’m afraid I’m not quite as fit as I used to be.”

Tess smiled politely, hoping the old lady would do her resting in silence.

She didn’t.

“Have you come far to visit here?” said the lady.

“Not really. I was kind of passing through already.”

The lady nodded, looking at Tess as if wanting to say something else, but didn’t know what.

“Have you?” Tess said. “Do you live here?”

“No. I’m from Romania. But I had family imprisoned here, so wanted to see the place for myself while I still could.”

“Your family was held here?” asked Tess. The place was horrific, but she could still remain detached because the horrors happened so long ago to people she’d never known. Suddenly having a human face put on things caused a shiver to run down her spine.

“My mother’s family, yes. Her parents managed to have her smuggled out of the country. She never saw them again. It was nothing unusual back then, but it’s hard to imagine now.”

“You can say that again.”

Now both on the same level, Tess could see the lady wasn’t actually that old. Probably midfifties. However, her sunken cheeks, gray skin, and bony arms and hands made her look decrepit.

“So where else have you passed through,” said the lady, “if you don’t mind me asking?”

Tess blew out a breath. “Er, Japan, China, India, Thailand. I’ve been around.”

“My. And do you speak all those languages?”

“Enough to get by.”

A wry smile crossed the lady’s face. “But I bet no Romanian.”

“Not a word. Sorry.” A ripple of embarrassment washed over Tess. It did whenever she met a person who’d dedicated years to mastering her language while she couldn’t even say something as simple as ‘Hello’ in theirs.

“That’s okay,” said the lady, her eyes sparkling with kindness. “Why would anyone learn the language of a poor country that no one cares about?”

The lady didn’t seem to be having a dig, merely stating a fact. And she was right – like most people, Tess would struggle to even point to Romania on a map, so why would she bother to learn its language?

“So,” said the lady, “is this a long vacation you’re taking?”

“Er…” The question stumped Tess. And not for the first time – she had asked it of herself more and more lately. Why was she still in Europe instead of back in New York City following the plan she’d set in motion nearly a decade ago? How much more prepared could she be?

She’d kept telling herself she hadn’t gone back yet because she wanted to see the world and experience its cultures to develop her mind as a thinking machine as much as she’d developed her body as a killing machine. More and more often though, that just seemed like an excuse.

What was holding her back?

Fear of failure?

Or fear of success? Killing had become her life in Shanghai, and that had nearly ended her – what if it became her life again back home?

But how much longer could she delay?

Every day now, a dull pain clawed inside her chest. Like homesickness on steroids. Something was trying to drag her back to the US. Something primal. Something that was becoming harder and harder to resist.

Tess didn’t answer the question.

The lady locked Tess’s gaze, the kindness in her eyes replaced by a burning defiance. “I saw you last night.”

The words hit Tess like a shotgun blast to the chest.

Tess thought she’d misheard. “Excuse me?”

“In the park… Fighting those hooligans.”

Tess remained silent. Where was she going with this? Was she going to ask for money to keep quiet?

But this revelation did explain why Tess had felt uneasy after the fight – someone had been watching her from the shadows after all. She studied the lady, trying to guess where this was heading.

“You didn’t have to help that young couple,” said the lady.

“Who else was going to help them?”

“The police.”

Tess was sure the lady hadn’t meant to be funny, but she couldn’t help but snicker. “Yeah, right.”

“You don’t have much faith in the authorities?”

Tess shot her a sideways glance.

“Aren’t they there to help you?”

“At best, they’re there as a deterrent, at worst, as a clean-up crew.”

The lady thought for a moment. “But why risk your own safety? You could just have walked away.”

No, she couldn’t. Not when she had the skills she had. It would be like a doctor walking away from the scene of an accident leaving someone to bleed out on the street.

The woman’s frail, gray hand reached over. She placed a photograph of a woman in Tess’s lap. The woman was around Tess’s age, had a striking, angular face and long, flowing brown hair. The woman’s hair reminded Tess of how hers used to be, before she’d hacked it all off to barely shoulder length that night in Shanghai. That night that had started everything.

“I’m Elena Petrescu,” said the lady. “This is Catalina, my daughter. She’s been missing since yesterday morning.”

“Missing?”

“I—” Elena’s chin quivered. She hung her head for a moment, and then tried again. “I can’t find her anywhere.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I’m blunt, but how do you know she isn’t just shacked up with some guy she met in a bar?”

“As I said, this is something of a pilgrimage, not a beer-fueled vacation.”

Tess nodded. That was a fair reason for discounting a drunken one-night stand. “Has anyone asked you for money?”

“No.”

“So what have the police said?”

“I don’t want a clean-up crew,” Elena said. “I want a detective.”

Tess winced. “Sorry, but you’re talking to the wrong person – I can look after myself, yes, but I’m no detective.”

Elena took a roll of banknotes out of her pocket. “I can pay.”

From the roll’s size, it looked a substantial amount, but the first was only a ten-zloty note, suggesting they all were. If there was even a couple of hundred dollars, Tess would be amazed.

“It’s not about money,” Tess said. “I just don’t think I can help you.”

The woman placed her hand on Tess’s. The outlines of the bones and many of the veins stood out as clearly as if Tess had X-ray vision.

“I understand.” Her chin quivering again, Elena hung her head.

“I’m sorry.”

Elena nodded. After a moment, she looked back up.

“As you can see,” Elena said, her voice wavering, “I’m not in the best of health.” She patted Tess’s hand. “All I wanted was to see my Catalina one last time and to tell her I love her. I’m all she has.”

A lump in Tess’s throat choked her words. For a moment, she was back in that hospital room, back beside that bed, back holding someone for the last time. Except she hadn’t known it was for the last time. That heartache had lived with her for years. Could she deny this mother one last chance to hold her daughter and say goodbye?

Elena handed the rotund waitress thirty zlotys and said something in Polish. The woman laughed and then toddled away, zigzagging through the bar’s scattered rectangular tables.

With only local clientele, the backstreet bar near Elena’s hostel was a big square room with none of the quaintness of the tourist bar Tess had visited the previous night. Its only decoration stretched to photos of Polish celebrities, none of whom she knew.

Elena raised her beer to toast Tess. Tess had paid for their meal and had wanted to pay for the beer too, but Elena was simply too proud to accept endless charity, so she had insisted on buying.

Lifting her glass, Tess toasted Elena. “To finding Catalina.
Na zdrovie.”
Even though she wasn’t staying in Poland long, Tess had already picked up a few of the more useful phrases such as hello, please, thank you, ATM, toilet, and cheers.

Elena playfully wagged a finger at her. “In Romanian, we say
‘noroc’.”

Tess chinked glasses with her.
“Noroc.”

“To finding Cat and to your first Romanian word.”

Over the rim of her, Tess surveyed the clientele. She’d give anyone one hundred to one against seeing any of the three men she’d beaten to a pulp last night, but that pudgy fourth guy had run away. She didn’t want to be clobbered from behind and kicked senseless while she was down, so she had even more reason than usual to remain constantly aware of her environment.

Putting her glass on the table, Tess couldn’t help but chuckle to herself – the frail old lady who’d approached her in Auschwitz was chugging away on her beer like a teenage boy at his first frat party.

Two-thirds of her beer gone in one go, Elena placed her glass on the table with a satisfying
ahhh
. She wiped a little froth from her top lip.

“Thirsty?” Tess said.

“Because of my medication, I haven’t been able to enjoy a drink for months.”

“So you’ve stopped your medication?”

“No, I’ve stopped caring. For now at least.”

“But won’t alcohol interfere with your meds?”

Elena rolled her eyes. “You sound like Cat.”

As if to make a point, she took another sip of beer. Three parallel scars ran across the back of Elena’s hand holding the glass. She’d obviously been raked by something sharp, but the scars were faded, not enflamed, and flat to the rest of the hand, not pronounced, suggesting it was an old injury.

If Tess was going to put her life on the line, she needed to know it was for the right reasons, specifically that Elena and her daughter were truly worth fighting for. To judge that, she needed information. The scar presented an ideal opening to dig into this family’s history through a seemingly innocuous question.

With a flick of her head, Tess gestured to Elena’s hand. “That must have been nasty.”

“Hmmm?”

“Your hand.”

Elena twisted her hand to look at it. “Oh, yes, it was. Got too close to a bear.”

Tess frowned with surprise. “A bear?” She had expected it to be a work injury, an assault, a car accident, anything but an animal attack. How the devil did anyone get too close to a bear unless they were a complete imbecile?