Slasherazzi (15 page)

The next morning, I groaned and turned over in my bed to face the window. The soft orange glow of a streetlight seeped in through a narrow gap in the curtains, and silence settled in over the room. Even the birds hadn’t awoken. I let out a long breath and closed my eyes. As I lay there, my mind refused to settle, intent on keeping me awake. After tossing and turning some more, I gave up, climbed out of bed, and headed to the kitchen to make some coffee. If I wasn’t going back to sleep, I might as well be fully alert.

As the coffeemaker worked its magic, I went back into the hallway intending to go to the bathroom. I stopped outside the study door, which was slightly open, and my senses kicked into overdrive. My heart beat faster as I pushed the door open and looked inside. Everything seemed to be in order. The drawers were still shut, and the corkboard was still a mess of pins and Post-it notes.

I turned to leave when I spotted the pad of paper on the desk. I walked slowly up to the desk and picked up the note scrawled in blue marker pen across the page.

I dropped the pad to the floor, my hands shaking. Of course, the Slasherazzi knew where I lived. After all, he’d probably been watching and stalking me before the night he murdered Amanda. Before, I had accused Vince of snooping through my study. What if he really had been telling the truth?

“Shit,” I muttered as I pulled up a seat and sat down to rest my face in my hands. I’d been so angry at the thought of being betrayed again that I hadn’t given Vince even the slightest chance. Not only had I thrown away a good relationship, but probably destroyed any chance of getting back together, too.

On the plus side, the note was strangely comforting. Despite knowing where I lived, the Slasherazzi hadn’t come to kill me. Instead, he’d left a message…an invitation, of sorts. He didn’t want to kill me, yet. He was still enjoying the chase, and he wanted me to pick back up where I’d left off. Of course, that would be difficult considering I’d been taken off the case. It would need to be in secret, and I’d need somewhere else to stay, just in case.

There was little option left to me, except to try and patch things up with Vince. No, that’s likely just what I told myself to stop from chickening out for fear of rejection. After the way I’d treated Vince, always jumping to conclusions and believing the worst, I owed him at the very least an apology, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he turned me down. He’d been right about me all along. I hadn’t trusted him one bit. If he’d let me, that was all going to change. Vince really had been making an effort to put the past behind us and move on. It was about time I did the same thing.

I stood outside the door of Vince’s apartment, my fist hovering an inch away. Like it or not, I was going to need help in chasing down the killer. Tanya was a no-go on account of her still working the case with the feds. Trying to liaise with her to conduct our own investigations would be too tricky with all the suits breathing down her neck. And Vince was good at research.

I rapped my fist against the door three times, holding my breath as I waited for a reply. Vince swung the door open and paused.

“Alex,” he said, almost sounding hopeful. Then his face twisted into a scowl. “What do you want?” “Can we talk?” I asked.
Vince was silent for a moment, but then he stepped

back and let me inside. I walked into the living area and sat on the edge of the couch. Vince shut the door and came to stand in front of me.

“After everything that’s happened, I don’t know why I’m even giving you this chance. It’s not like you ever let me try to explain,” he said, then let out a long sigh. “Just hurry up with whatever it is you have to say.”

“Vince, I’m sorry. I—”
“Bullshit,” Vince snapped. “You say that every damn time, but it doesn’t seem to matter what I do, you never trust me.”
I stood quickly, grabbing Vince by his biceps. “You haven’t exactly given me reason to trust to you in the past. God knows with anyone else, I would have cut my losses long ago.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
I dropped my hands to my sides. “I don’t know. I guess I thought we had something worth fighting for. Look, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for doubting you this time. I know it wasn’t you who went into my study that night. I believe you.”
He looked up at me expectantly. “You do?”
“Yeah. It just made me so angry to think that you could have betrayed me again, after everything seemed to be going so well. I reacted without thinking, and I really am sorry for that. Can you forgive me?”
Vince shrugged and turned away. He walked up to the window and leaned forward on the ledge. “I don’t know, Alex. If I do, are we going to be having the same conversation two months down the line? I want to make things right between us, but not if we’ll keep making the same mistakes. I need to know you can trust me, and that you want this relationship to work.”
I walked up behind Vince and turned him to face me so our eyes could meet. “I do. More than anything. Please, Vince. Let me make this up to you.” I took his hands in mine and squeezed them gently. “Please, I’m sorry.”
Vince nodded, and before he could open his mouth, I leaned in to capture his lips. He yanked his hands from mine and wrapped them around me to pull our bodies closer. His lips parted, and I took the opportunity to extend my tongue. He mimicked my movements, and our groans echoed in each other. I drew back first to gasp for breath, then rested my head on his shoulder as I circled my arms around him.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“Not that I don’t appreciate this,” Vince said, pulling out of the embrace, “but why the sudden change of heart?”
“Other than feeling like shit since we fought?” I asked and reached into my pocket to take out a folded sheet of paper. “I found this in my study when I woke up this morning.”
Vince unfolded the note and stared at it for a good few moments. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.
“He knows where I live, Vince. I think that’s how he found out about…” I paused, unsure if I should even be mentioning Amanda after we’d just made up. Judging from Vince’s reaction at the station, it was going to be something of a sore point between us.
“The woman from the bar,” he said, walking away from me again. “You never did give an answer about that. Why did you do it? Was I that unimportant to you?”
“No,” I said quickly. “It wasn’t that at all. It’s because you mean a lot to me that it hurt so damn much. I was drunk and upset, and I know that doesn’t make it any less hurtful.”
“Okay. I’m not saying I forgive you entirely, but I can understand. We weren’t together then, so that’s your business. Doesn’t mean I’m not jealous or hurt, though. You’ve got some making up to do.”
I nodded. “I’ll do anything to show you I’m serious, Vince. Anything at all. Providing I don’t end up on the killer’s chopping block, of course.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know. A part of me knows I should take this note in to the station and give it to the feds, but how am I supposed to just sit back and do nothing while they take the lead?”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m going to take a few days off work for personal reasons. With everything that’s happened, I’m sure the captain will agree to it. I want to track down this guy and stop him, and I want you to help me.”
Vince turned to stare at me and furrowed his brow. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Damn right I am. I’m not going to sit around waiting for the feds to come up with a lead while this guy is invading my home, and especially not while he’s got this fixation on you. If he wants me to chase him, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
Vince smiled. “You and me working together? This’ll be interesting. Well, it’s not like I have a job to go to anymore, so count me in.” I was about to ask what had happened, when Vince answered for me. “Oh, when my boss found out I’d been taken in for questioning, he kinda freaked out. Wanted to suspend me without pay, so I quit.”
“Vince…”
“No, it’s okay. My boss was an ass anyway. I’ve been wanting to get out for a while, and now I’ve made a bit of a name for myself it shouldn’t be too hard to find another gig.” He extended his hand toward me, and I stepped forward to take it. “It was just a job. What matters is that you’re here now. As long as you—”
“I swear, if you break out into a Justin Bieber song, I won’t be responsible for what happens next,” I said, gripping his hand a little tighter. Vince snickered and shook his head.
“So where do we start?” he asked.
“I say we find out more about our cabin guy. He had a leg missing, and the killer had to get the bone for your necklace from somewhere. Maybe if we can work out what he was trying to hide by burning the place down, we might find a clue to his identity.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Vince replied. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning.”

We took my car and drove across Florida for several hours in the sweltering heat before coming to a stop outside a small cabin. Tall pines surrounded us on all sides, and nearby, a stream trickled. Vince got out the passenger seat and started toward the hut, which was the size of a small one-story house. I followed behind while examining the scene. Years ago, the place had likely been home to a family, but now the foliage had completely taken over, blanketing the wooden walls in vines. The windows were whole but covered in a thick layer of dirt.

Vince walked up to the door and gave it a push, but to no avail. I was about to tap on the window when a twig snapped behind me. I turned to see an old man coming toward us.

“No,” I replied, stepping down from the deck to greet the man. “We were just looking for someone who used to live here.”

“Well, there ain't been anyone living there for years now. The last owner skipped out of town one night and never came back. Place has been derelict since.”

The man nodded. “Nearly forty years now. My wife and I love it out here away from all the commotion of the city.”

“Ashcroft? Yeah, I remember them. Those folks left decades ago. It was around the same time that cop was executed. When was that? Must have been the mid-to-late eighties. So what's your business with the Ashcrofts?”

“Just some unresolved business,” Vince replied. “We’ve been trying to track down David Ashcroft. Do you know where he went after he left?”

He shook his head. “Couldn’t say. He just up and left one night without so much as a word. Mind you, he never really talked much after the accident.”

“Oh, you don’t know? His wife was hit by a car. Killed instantly. Such a tragedy. David used to be real nice, but after Marie passed, he changed.” The man paused to scratch at his short white whiskers. “He lost his job shortly after. Started drinking heavily. Didn’t see him leave the cabin much, except to buy more booze. Tried talking to him a few times, but he was so distraught it was like his whole world ceased to exist.”

The man nodded. “He loved his wife more than anything you could imagine. Seeing him change like that was terrible, but it was his son I worried about.”

“Do you remember the boy’s name?” Vince asked. “He was a young boy. Couldn’t have been more than five years old when his mother died. Oh, what was his name? God darn it, I can’t for the life of me remember what he was called. But anyway, I sometimes heard shouting coming from across the way, and with his father being a drunk and all, I got to wondering.”
“You think David was abusing his son?” I asked. It would certainly explain why our killer was targeting men in their late twenties to early thirties. They were around the age his father was when the abuse was taking place.
“I was sure of it, but there was never any proof,” he replied. “And then they just disappeared one night out of the blue. That’s all I could tell you, unfortunately.”
“That’s all right,” I said, holding out my hand. We shook briefly. “You’ve been a great help. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Hope you find your man,” he called out as he walked back to the car.
“Fat lot of good that did,” Vince said as he strapped himself into the passenger seat.
I did likewise before turning over the engine and pulling off the dirt track, then onto the narrow road. “Narrows down the suspect pool,” I replied. “I’d say the son is our guy. The feds profile puts him around the same age as his victims, and the son would fit that age range. Add the death of his mother to an abusive, drunken father, and I’d say we’ve got the makings of a killer. Now all we gotta do is find out what happened to him.”

We stopped at a nearby diner and sat ourselves in one of the corner booths away from the majority of the patrons who had shown up for the lunchtime rush. Vince set up his laptop to start doing some research while I ordered for us both. Shortly after our food arrived, Vince looked up from the screen and grinned almost from ear to ear. He turned the computer around, then picked up his burger to take a huge bite.

“Young boy found collapsed by roadside,” I read from the article. “You think this is the kid?”
Vince nodded, swallowing his food. “Right time. Right area. And the kid is about the right age, too.”
A photo filled up half of the window, showing the boy’s face covered in cuts and bruises, with one eye swollen shut. I scrolled down, skimming the text for information. He’d been brought into the hospital by a trucker who found him in a ditch. His identity was listed as unknown, and the police were calling for anyone who knew the boy to come forward.
“Great, now if you can just find us the boy’s name, then maybe we can work out what happened to him next.”
“I’m all over it,” he said, pulling the laptop back across the table. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll have all the information we need.”
“Just ten minutes?” I arched an eyebrow. “Don’t think too highly of yourself.”
Vince paused his typing and glanced up at me. “You don’t think I can do it?”
I shook my head. There was no doubt he’d find the information, but ten minutes was too lofty a goal, even for Vince. He feigned a moment of hurt, placing his hand against his chest, then he did something that would have made the devil tremble with fear—he smirked, a sure sign that some devious plot had been hatched.
“We’ll see about that,” he said as he scooted across his seat and over into the empty space to my left. His hand traced the inside of my thigh beneath the table, brushing lightly over my cock. “Wanna make a bet?”
He squeezed the growing bulge in my pants, and I stifled the groan that rose up from my throat. “What kind of bet?”
“A bet that I’m about to blow your mind, and it won’t be the first time tonight,” he said, his jade eyes holding my gaze.
“What do I get if you’re wrong?” I asked.
“Anything you want from me.”
“Anything?”
He nodded and leaned in to whisper. “Anything. For a whole twenty-four hours, I’m yours.”
His grip on my cock tightened. Or maybe that was my blood heading south. I could do a lot in twenty-four hours with my own personal slave. A French maid outfit might even be in order. God, Vince would hate that! I chuckled quietly.
“And if I lose?”
“Then I get to fuck you.” He continued to stare at me, waiting for a reply with his hand still working my dick.
I snorted and pushed his arm away. “Not a chance.”
“Come on, just this once. You might even enjoy it.” Vince nudged me with his elbow when I didn’t reply. “Seriously, how come you’re so against it?”
I hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “I just wouldn’t like it.”
“You ever tried it?” he asked.
I debated avoiding the question, but somehow, I imagined Vince wasn’t about to let go of the subject. A long sigh escaped my lips, and I turned to gaze out of the window. “I was nineteen.”
“Bad experience, then?” I nodded, and Vince placed a hand on my shoulder. “Who was he?”
“He was the TA in my first semester of college.” Thirteen years on and I could still remember his face. Dark, wavy hair, stubble gracing his chin, and deep brown eyes. He had the most gorgeous caramel skin, and a lean, muscled figure. I closed my eyes, as though I could block the image of him from my mind, but that did little to help. If anything, it just made the memory clearer. “We bumped into each other in a coffee shop, and he convinced me to go back to his place. I was still experimenting back then, so I agreed to bottom.”
I paused to sip at my coffee and shuffled in my seat. “You know, I've never told anyone this story before.”
Vince moved his hand down my back, rubbing gently. “How come?”
I shrugged. “Shame, maybe. I lied to him…said I'd done it plenty of times before because I didn't want to scare him off by telling him the truth. He didn't waste any time with foreplay.”
“What? No preparation?” Vince asked, and I shook my head. “Shit, that must have hurt.”
“It felt like my ass was on fire.” My fingers twitched around the coffee mug, and I hung my head. “I was too stubborn to ask him to stop. Didn't want him thinking I was inexperienced.”
“He was rough with you?”
I nodded and let out a long breath. “Yeah, I was sore for days afterward. Couldn't even take a shit without wincing. I don't know how you can stand being fucked.”
“Not everyone likes to be fucked hard,” Vince replied, moving his hand up to my shoulder. “I didn't like my first time either. We must have used half a tube of lube, and it still hurt like hell. And the other guy didn't have a particularly big cock. We tried again a couple of days later, took it a little slower, and it felt amazing. You should give it another go.”
“I dunno.”
Vince squeezed my shoulder. “Don't worry about it. Let's forget the bet for now. But I want you to know that I'm not that guy who fucked you before. If you ever change your mind, we'll go at your pace.” He shimmied across into his own seat again where he began typing away on the laptop.
I turned my head to stare out of the window as raindrops pelted against the glass. After my first time, I'd never had the urge to bottom again. Figured it just wasn't my thing, and I was perfectly happy to be the one on top. Vince did have a point, though. Just because I had a bad experience with my first time, didn't mean it would be like that with everyone. Still, the TA was probably below average in size, and Vince had a few inches on him. If it hurt before, then taking Vince was sure to be even more painful.
“Got it,” Vince said, startling me from my thoughts. His smile reached almost from ear to ear, and he pushed the laptop toward me. “Just for the record, that was under six minutes.”
“Bastard,” I said, chuckling under my breath. “Why don't you give me the rundown?”
“Okay,” he replied, tapping his finger against a picture on the screen. “The boy's name was Russell Ashcroft, the son of our cabin barbeque victim. By the time they identified him, the father had packed up and left.”
“And what happened to the boy?” I asked, my interest piqued.
“Not sure. He was dropped off at the hospital not too far from here. After that, it doesn’t say. I guess we’ll have to make that trip tomorrow and find out where he went next.”
“Why not tonight?” I asked. “We’ve still got time.”
Vince smirked. “Oh, because I’ve got other plans for us tonight.”