Worth Dying For (A Slaughter Creek Novel) (30 page)

Rafe gritted his teeth. “I’ll only lock him up if he’s guilty.”

“He ain’t.”

“Aren’t you the one who filed charges against him for assault?”

She fidgeted with a strand of her hair. “That was a mistake. Back then, J. R. was drinking, and we got into it. But he quit drinking after that night, hasn’t touched a drop since.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know. He called a little while ago, all upset. Said he lost his mama and me, and now the police thought he was cutting up women.”

Women never ceased to amaze him. This one actually felt sorry for the man.

“Do you have any idea where he’d go?”

She shook her head. “Just don’t hurt him when you find him. He’s not a bad man.”

Dammit, they needed that DNA test.

His phone buzzed, and he checked the number. Jake.

He punched connect. “Agent Hood.”

“Rafe, it’s Jake. Listen, Liz is in trouble.”

Rafe’s blood turned cold. “What happened?”

“Amelia just told me Harlan is not Six. She called Six a few minutes ago and heard Liz scream.”

Terror immobilized Rafe. “Where are they?”

“Amelia says she can lead us there. She thinks he’s the Dissector.”

“We can’t take Amelia with us.”

“She insists. She claims she can talk him down.”

A war raged in Rafe’s head as he rushed back to his SUV. Taking a civilian into a dangerous situation was against everything he believed in. But Liz’s life was at stake.

And if Six and Amelia were close, she might be helpful.

“All right.”

“Meet us at my office and we’ll ride together.”

Worry knotted every muscle in Rafe’s body as he sped toward the sheriff’s office. Images of what Six had done to the other women tormented him.

He was sadistic. He had a hand, an eye, a tongue—what did he plan to take from Liz?

The thought of him cutting her up made him clench the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Liz had already suffered too much.

Tires squealed as he swung in to the sheriff’s office. Jake pulled in about the same time, his siren wailing, blue lights rotating.

Rafe jumped out and climbed in the front seat. Amelia was seated in the back, twisting her hands, looking nervous and scared.

“Amelia, thank you for telling Jake,” Rafe said, his voice racked with emotion.

Amelia nodded, her eyes clouding over. “I didn’t know . . . didn’t think he really would kill them.”

“The nurses?” Rafe asked.

She nodded. “He can’t help it,” she whispered. “It’s what they did to him.”

“It’s okay, Amelia, we can talk about it later. Just tell Jake where to go.”

“There’s an old house where he’s been hiding,” Amelia said. “I met him there before.”

“Where is it?” Rafe asked.

“In the mountains off Route Four.”

“That’s not too far from here,” Jake said.

Sweat broke out all over Rafe’s body. Any distance was too far if Liz was in danger.

Rafe’s phone buzzed, and he pressed answer, praying for good news.

“Agent Hood, it’s Dr. Bullock. I ran the blood sample from Brian Castor.”

“Does it match the killer’s?”

“Yes and no. There are some similar markers, meaning he and the killer are related.”

“So the unsub has to be his brother, who was adopted. Not Harlan.”

He hung up and relayed the news to Jake, then phoned the lieutenant to see if he could locate Brian Castor.

Jake roared into the street, blue lights pulsing and siren blasting. He raced through traffic, spun to the right, and began to climb the mountain. The switchbacks forced him to slow, tires squealing as he rounded curve after curve, The latest snowfall still glittered on the ridges above, the ground frozen from the sleet and hailstorm, the trees bare, branches bowing with the weight of the weather.

The minutes felt like hours, the world slowing, the fear inside Rafe mounting with each mile. What was the unsub doing to Liz now? Was he going to torture her before he killed her?

Amelia began to rock herself back and forth in the car, her gaze trained outside her window.

“She can’t be dead,” Amelia whispered. “She can’t be. I have to stop him.”

“We will,” Jake assured her.

Rafe hoped to hell he was right. He didn’t know how he’d go on if he lost her.

Dammit. He never should have left her alone.

“There, to the left.” Amanda pointed to a turnoff that was hardly visible. It looked more like a man-made path than a road. Jake flipped off the siren and lights, not wanting to alert Six that they were coming.

The car bounced over the rough dirt road as it wound deeper into the woods. Finally they spotted a clearing ahead.

An outbuilding sat to the left of the main house. Rafe spotted a low light burning inside it.

“Have you been out there?” Rafe asked.

Amelia sniffled. “Yes, once. But I only went in the house.” She gestured to the outbuilding. “He . . . told me not to go out there.”

Jake slowed to a stop and cut off the engine. “Wait here, Amelia,” Jake said.

“No, I’m going.” She jutted up her chin. “I know him, Jake. Maybe I can talk to him and make him stop what he’s doing.”

Jake glanced at Rafe, and Rafe shrugged an okay. They emerged from the car, pulling their guns.

“Stay behind us,” Jake told Amelia.

She nodded, clasping her hands as she followed them.

Rafe motioned for Jake to search the main house while he checked the outbuilding. He slowly crept up to it, squatting low and staying out of sight.

His breath rattling with fear, he rose just high enough to peer into a window. Sheer terror shot through him.

The man had covered the walls and windows with heavy plastic. Liz was lying on a table in the middle, unmoving.

On a shelf, facing Liz, sat jars holding the Dissector’s trophies.

Chapter Thirty-One

L
iz did not want to die. She had to stall.

Her abductor’s phone buzzed, and he snatched it up. “Hey, Nine.”

Nine.
They were all connected, communicating, and protecting each other. If that was true, they might be adopting each other’s MOs, or parts of MOs, to throw the police off.

Their plan had worked.

Her attacker turned away, lowered his voice, and paced for a moment. When he ended the call, he seemed even more agitated.

“I know you were part of the experiment, and that you were horribly mistreated,” Liz said, dragging her gaze away from the jars of body parts on the wall. The eye the Dissector had taken seemed to stare at Liz, condemning her for not saving the woman it had come from.

Her attacker waved the scalpel in front of her face. It was dark, but a dim lamp in the corner gave just enough light for her to see him.

“Six?”

“Yes,” he said with a leer.

Only she knew this man. Not Brian Castor or J.
R. Truitt.

The director of the Sanitarium.

Anderson Loggins.

He
was Jeremy Castor.

“You said you came to the sanitarium to clean it up,” Liz said.

“I did.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “That’s what I’ve been doing. Cleaning away all the dirty ones from the past.”

“The people who hurt you?”

“Who hurt me and Amelia. They treated her so badly.”

“Then you found out about your brother, Brian?”

A bitter look sharpened his eyes. “Brian. He got all the love. They gave me away.”

Liz mentally pieced together the facts. The Castors had adopted the boys, but by then Jeremy was already exhibiting problems.

“I’m so sorry,” Liz said. “I understand now why you killed those nurses.”

His eyes flickered with a wildness that sent a shiver through Liz. The stench of blood and death permeated the room.

“Nurses are supposed to be angels,” Loggins said. “They’re supposed to protect and take care of children, not hurt them.”

“You’re right,” Liz said, struggling with the bindings around her wrists.

“And they’re not supposed to split up brothers.”

Loggins paused, then nodded slowly.

“Why did we only find paperwork for Brian?” Liz continued cautiously.

He returned to his frenetic pacing and waved his hand. “I had to get rid of those adoption papers.”

“Why is that?”

He barked a sinister laugh. “I didn’t want a paper trail. I had to wipe out any trace that I existed so no one would look for me.”

“And you gave us that file so we wouldn’t look for any more subjects.”

“I had to protect them.”

“Tell me who they are and I’ll protect them.”

Loggins shook his head, his movements jerky. “No. You’ll send them back to the nuthouse.” He pointed the scalpel at her. “No way that’s going to happen.”

Panic seized Liz. He looked as if he was going to explode with rage any moment. The rage that made him kill. “Then tell me the names of the others who hurt you, and I’ll arrest them and make sure they never hurt anyone else again.”

Six paced the room, his agitation mounting. “No, no, they have to die.” He lunged back at Liz, waving the scalpel above her face. “And so do you.”

The Dissector waved the scalpel in front of Liz’s face, and Rafe saw red. His gun at the ready, he burst into the room from a back door. “Drop the weapon or I’ll shoot.”

The Dissector whirled around, his eyes crazed. “No . . . I have to finish.”

Rafe aimed the gun at his chest. Loggins. He had insinuated himself into the sanitarium as the new director. That gave him access to files and the staff, where he could destroy records, cover for all the subjects.

“I said put down the weapon, or I’ll shoot.”

Behind him the floor squeaked, and Amelia and Jake stepped into the doorway, “Please, drop it,” Amelia said softly. She inched up beside him. “I don’t want them to hurt you.”

Indecision clouded his eyes as he glanced back and forth between them. “But they have to die. You know what they did to us.”

“Agent Lucas never hurt us,” Amelia said, tears in her voice. “She wants to find the people who abused us and make them pay.”

“That’s true,” Liz said softly. “I promise I’ll help you.”

“She will,” Amelia said. “Please don’t hurt her, Six. I . . . don’t want to lose you.”

Six made a low sound in his throat, as if debating what to do.

“Please, look at me,” Amelia said. “Remember the future we talked about.”

“If they take me to jail, we won’t have that future,” Six cried. He lowered the blade an inch, but Rafe lunged forward and grabbed him around the neck.

Six fought and struggled, but Rafe knocked the scalpel from his hand and sent it flying across the room. Another sharp blow, and he threw Six down to the floor, grabbed his hands, and handcuffed them behind his back.

“Her brain . . . I need her brain to finish my collection. The brain controls movement and thoughts and emotions. The cerebellum, the medulla, the brain stem . . . it’s all important. I have to have her brain.”

“Shut up,” Rafe growled as he flipped the man over. “Not another word, or I’ll shoot you in the damn head. Then we’ll collect your brain.”

Six grew still, his eyes darting to Amelia. Amelia ran to him and wrapped her arms around him, rocking him and soothing him with low words.

Rafe yanked out his pocketknife and sawed at the straps holding Liz to that fucking table. “Are you all right?”

Liz nodded, but she was trembling as he helped her down. Unable to resist, he pulled her into his arms and held her.

“How did you know where I was?” Liz asked in a ragged whisper.

Rafe stroked her back. “Amelia. She heard you scream when she called Six. She saved you, Liz.”

Liz wiped at her eyes and pulled away to look at Amelia. Amelia glanced up at her with a tormented look. Six had quieted, but looked almost as if he’d lapsed into a catatonic state.

“I’m sorry,” Amelia said, her voice breaking. “I . . . didn’t know. I didn’t believe it.”

Liz offered her a sympathetic look. “It’s okay, Amelia. You saved my life. That took courage.”

“I need to call Maddison.” Rafe gestured toward the bloody plastic on the wall and the jars. “It looks like we can close this case now, too.”

Liz tried to pull herself together while the men made the necessary phone calls.

A few minutes later CSI arrived to process the place. Nick and Sadie rushed up shortly
afterward, and Nick took Six into custody. Amelia was so upset that Sadie gathered her in her arms to console her, then drove her sister home while Jake accompanied Nick.

Maddison shook his head as they hauled Six out to the squad car. “I can’t believe he was right under our noses all the time. I had one of my men pick up Brian Castor. He’s taking him to the sheriff’s office for questioning.”

Liz cleared her throat. “If he knew Loggins was his brother, and realized what he was doing, Brian is an accomplice.”

Liz released a shaky breath.
He had wanted to cut out her brain
.

Damn her. She
would
hold herself together until they got home, and she could completely fall apart where no one would see.

Silence stretched inside the car, filled with the horrors of what had happened. And the distance Rafe had put between them after he’d learned about her pregnancy.

When they reached her house, relief made her shoulders sag. A hot bath, a glass of wine, and she’d collapse in bed.

Except she feared the nightmares would come again.

Rafe parked, and they walked up to the door together. She reached for the doorknob, desperate to get inside before she could beg him to spend the night and chase the bad dreams away.

Rafe’s heart was still racing with fear as Liz unlocked the door and stepped inside. She turned to say good-bye, but he couldn’t leave her tonight.

She didn’t tell you about the baby
.

He didn’t care. She had her reasons. Besides, he’d almost lost her tonight.

“Liz, I’m not leaving you.”

Liz licked her lip, drawing his gaze to her mouth. He wanted to kiss her.

“I don’t need a bodyguard anymore, Rafe. Harlan is dead, and the Dissector is in custody.”

An image of that killing room hit him, and emotions threatened to send Rafe to his knees. “I know, but I still want to come inside.”

Liz narrowed her eyes. “Rafe?”

Rafe scraped a hand through his hair and looked down, words tangling on his tongue. But he took a deep breath and spit them out. “I love you, Liz. I . . . God, I went crazy tonight when I saw you tied up in that killing room.”

A soft smile curved Liz’s mouth. “I love you, too, Rafe.”

A heartbeat of silence, then Rafe stepped into Liz’s house and her arms.

Seconds later they were tearing off each other’s clothes, falling into bed, touching and loving and caressing every inch of each other.

When Rafe rose above her and entered her, he looked into her eyes. “I meant it when I said I love you.” He thrust deeper, eliciting a moan. “Marry me, Liz.”

Liz remembered their argument about the job, the pain of losing their baby . . .

She pressed a hand to his cheek and kissed him tenderly. They could work all that out later. Tonight they needed to celebrate their love and that they were both alive.

So she whispered yes, then he thrust deeper, in and out, and they built a rhythm with their bodies until they both came together in a blinding sea of pleasure.