Scarlet Angel (Mindf*ck Series Book 3) Read online

  “You held the mirror. You laughed as Kyle took the slice. You’re the one who encouraged Kyle to redeem himself in your eyes. You’re the reason it happened. Why should you keep this?” I ask, hearing his fearful cry when I nick just the side.

  “Don’t! Please! I fucking beg you.”

  A deliciously dark smile curves my lips. “I remember your response when we begged. Fuck them. Kill them both.”

  With that, I take the slice, struggling to cut through the harder appendage than I’ve worked with in the past.

  His screams pierce the air, and his pleads fall on deaf ears. Just as ours did.

  The blood starts running, and I squeeze out three bottles of lube, letting it clump on him as he continues to wail, losing his color as quickly as he loses blood. They bleed more and faster when they’re hard. Interesting.

  Just to be a total sick freak, I throw a knife to the floor, stabbing it through the severed appendage I’ve dropped beside his face. He screams and screams, and I laugh as I walk outside.

  Two gasoline cans are already waiting. Jake has done as he promised he would. Now that he’s heard what I’m doing, he’s probably on his way to Delaney Grove to execute the first part of our plan.

  Singing while Morgan cries and chokes on his own vomit, I spray the gasoline around, then douse his body.

  “They say the most painful way to die is by fire. I wonder who volunteered to find out that information,” I chirp cheerfully.

  Morgan shakes his head, trying to form words, but he’s in too much pain, overwhelmed by agony and shock.

  I strike the match, and his eyes widen one last time.

  “I didn’t even need to hear you confess your sins,” I say quietly.

  I watch the flame slowly eat away at the matchstick, almost reaching my fingers, before I drop it to his body. The flames start to soar, rapidly licking up the trails of gasoline. I slowly start walking out, hearing the roar of the fire as it spreads, chasing each strip of gas.

  “Pretty soon, they’ll all burn,” I say as I walk out the door.

  Chapter 13

  Lawless are they that make their wills their law.

  —William Shakespeare

  LOGAN

  “What’s beyond these woods?” I ask the sheriff as he tries to blatantly ignore me.

  He’s at least 6’3, almost even with me in height. He looks like he spends more time in the gym than any county sheriff I’ve ever seen. His active deputies are more plentiful than small town sheriff departments I’ve been around in the past.

  One town hall/sheriff’s department is large enough to host all the deputies also, and it appears Delaney Grove is their central headquarters, so to speak. The police department has five officers on its own, but the county? So many more.

  Twenty-three deputies? Who needs that many in a county this small.

  “I asked a question,” I say with authority, eyeing down the man with salt-and-pepper hair and dead eyes.

  I should have come sooner. I’d have seen more than I expected. Already I see too much Leonard and Elise missed on their visit here.

  “Four or five hunters’ cabins, and a whole lot of wild life you city boys don’t want to tangle with,” he says shortly, his tone thick with condescension.

  He turns back to Johnson before glancing to one deputy. “You show these folks around. I’m going to go with SSA Johnson back to the fort.”

  “The fort?” Elise asks.

  “It’s what he calls our town hall,” one of the deputies says, grinning at her like she’s his type.

  She casts a glare at Craig when he snickers.

  I’m happy to get the sheriff and Johnson out of our hair, so I don’t object to them leaving us behind.

  “Okay,” Elise mumbles to the deputy who is still beaming at her. The kid practically has hearts in his eyes. “They seriously don’t have women here, do they?” she adds.

  “Not in uniform, ma’am,” the guy tells her, following us as we go to peer into the woods.

  A hunter’s cabin would be ideal for our killer. He could come and go without being in plain sight. “The women who work in uniform are only in dispatch. Just two. Tonya and Tasha. They have a different office though.”

  At least Elise can get some information from her new admirer.

  Hadley is supposed to be bringing Lana with her when she drives in. Hadley couldn’t leave first thing this morning because there was a Delaney Grove related killing last night. Two towns over, in fact. Though no one here has wanted to talk about the death of Morgan Jones.

  In fact, no one wants to talk about any of the deaths or the people who died.

  We need to dig into his past and interview his family, just as we have all the victims, but SSA dipshit is making that difficult, since he refused to change the plans of coming here today. Why the rush?

  And why did the unsub kill him quickly, compared to the others. It was definitely torture to be set on fire, and he was most likely castrated—they’re still trying to determine when the penis was removed, due to the scorched remains.

  Words I never thought I’d say.

  “These are your cabins,” the deputy tells us, resting his hands on his gun belt like he’s Barney Fyffe. Grinning like him too.

  “Okay,” Elise says, eyeing him. “We’ve already seen the cabins.”

  “I’m supposed to escort you in while they hold the town meeting, and escort you anywhere you need to go in case you need something.”

  “We’re going to walk around and question the townspeople some,” Elise tells the lurker.

  His eyes widen, and he shakes his head emphatically.

  “You can’t do that. Sherriff Cannon said to keep you guys here, and take you wherever you needed to go. But he doesn’t want our people spooked by this dark issue.”

  Dark issue? That’s seriously how he’s wording it?

  “There’s a serial killer targeting your people. I held a nationwide press conference. How could they possibly not know?” Craig asks.

  “Better yet, why wouldn’t you want them to know?” Elise inserts.

  The deputy takes a step back, feeling ganged up on. He’s a nervous little guy.

  “The sheriff controls the news stations we get. We have our own broadcasting network if we need the people to know something immediately. It’ll interrupt their regular service for the emergency broadcast.”

  I turn away, looking at Craig. “This guy is dominating every aspect of their lives. It’s almost like an occult here.”

  “And would be a damn good fit for a psychopath with narcissistic tendencies,” Donny says quietly, while Elise keeps Barney—or whatever his name is—distracted.

  The original killer used this town’s faults to his advantage.

  “The sheriff is trying to dominate us by acting as though we have no authority in his town,” I go on.

  “What do we do?” Craig asks.

  “Prove we’re the ones in charge. Print up flyers with the information of our profile, and start handing them out to everyone in town. We’ll divide into teams to ask questions.”

  Craig nods, going into his cabin where we’ve set up our temporary headquarters—since the sheriff assured us his place didn’t have the room we’d need.

  How generous of him.

  “He owns the only spot in town you can rent out too,” Donny tells me.

  “It’s one more step of total domination. He needs to be in control.”

  “Sounds more like an extreme case of alpha personality than a psychopath, though.”

  “On the surface,” I say absently, then turn to face the deputy. “Deputy…”

  I let the word trail off, making it clear I have no idea what his unimportant name is. However, the guy grins a dopey, innocent grin, and I grow curious.

  “It’s Deputy Charles Howser,” he says proudly, rocking back on his heels, completely oblivious and unoffended by the subtle barb.

  “How long have you lived here or worked for the sheriff?”
<
br />   “Been here six months, and been on the force for three weeks.”

  I look at Donny, who narrows his eyes. “He puts us with his newest officer. Coincidence? I think not.”

  “Likely his most innocent one, judging by the overwhelming stench of corruption everyone else was giving off. Where’s Leonard?”

  Leonard walks around like he just heard his name, eyeing us. He joins us immediately as Elise resumes her role, distracting the deputy. But I interrupt.

  “Why is the sheriff holding a town meeting if he’s hiding the fact a serial killer is targeting the town?”

  “Oh, because we had some weird stuff happen last night. A lot of random doors were found open this morning to houses—at least fifty or so. Some mirrors were found missing, but that’s about it. Weird, huh?” he asks, but doesn’t give us time to respond. “The sheriff is holding a meeting to find out who did it.”

  That makes no sense at all.

  “It’s way worse now than it was,” Leonard tells us quietly. “The sheriff put on a show when we came to town. He’s been hiding a lot. And now he feels in control for some reason, acting as though he can also control us.”

  “Because of the Godfather,” Donny states, reading my mind.

  I turn back, interrupting Elise and the deputy again. “We’re going to go make those rounds now,” I tell him, timing it perfectly with Craig’s emergence from the cabin.

  He’s holding a large stack of flyers, and Howser’s eyes widen in fear

  “But the sheriff said—”

  “When the sheriff is my boss, I’ll listen to him. But he has no authority over us or this investigation. At this point, his inclusion is merely a courtesy from my people. We outrank him. Do you understand?”

  He doesn’t understand. I can tell it in his pitifully torn look.

  Instead of explaining, Craig and I walk off, and Elise hobbles to the cabin to set up shop. Donny and Leonard take half the flyers, and they set off as well.

  “When is Lana coming in?” Craig asks as we ignore Howser calling for us to ‘please stop walking.’

  “In two days, at most. Possibly sooner. She didn’t want Hadley to have to ride alone. Lisa should be here any minute.”

  “Hadley’s seal of approval? Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “It’s surprisingly abrupt, but they seem to have bonded after what they both suffered.”

  “Nothing forges a quicker bond than a sexual sadist nearly killing you both, then escaping on a stroke of luck.”

  My stomach tilts, and I glare at him.

  “Too soon?”

  Muttering a few names for him under my breath, I snatch the staple gun from his hand and post the flyer on a pole.

  We spot a woman coming out of the grocery store, tugging her child’s hand, and I tilt my head as several others start running out, getting out quickly. A few are even panicked as they race away.

  Craig and I both dart across the street, hands on guns, when I see the wall in the back.

  The water will run red. Just like your sins. The truth won’t be painted over anymore.

  What the fuck?

  It’s painted in large letters on the back wall, and the guy behind the counter is calling it in.

  “What happened?” I ask, moving toward him.

  “I don’t know. It just suddenly appeared. Like, it wasn’t there, and then it was. Everyone saw it!” he shouts.

  The fuck?

  The words are dry, and I go to take a sample, pulling out an evidence bag to scrape some flakes in. I fucking need Hadley here already.

  Whispers of spirits hiss around us from the few who are brave enough to stick around.

  “It’s dry but just appeared? Know any type of paint that does that?”

  “I’m sure there’s something out there, or something someone smart enough could make,” I tell him, watching the people panic over some words. “It’s him.”

  “What? He came to paint magically appearing words?” Craig asks incredulously.

  “We profiled this town as religious, but with a cult mentality. Look around. They’re all terrified over something this small. In DC, this would have people snapping pictures and rolling their eyes—and that’s if they even noticed it to begin with. But here? It’s already terrifying them.”

  He appraises the situation, processing the same thing I am, even though he’s not a profiler.

  “He’s fucking with their heads.”

  “His endgame isn’t just murder. He wants to terrorize the town,” I say, only elaborating on his theory.

  He follows me out, and I head down the street, looking around for anyone who stands out. But I see no one. Until this paint is analyzed, we won’t know how he pulled that off.

  We pause, talking to people, watching fear wash over their faces when we tell them about the serial killer the sheriff never warned them about. Most everyone hurries by us, not wanting to hear something like that exists.

  One man clutches his heart. “It’s true then,” he whispers. “There’s a dark spirit among us?”

  Craig’s eyebrows go up.

  “No. There’s a flesh and blood person who wants revenge for something that happened ten years ago to Victoria and Marcus Evans.”

  The color drains from his face.

  “You speak of the devil’s children,” he hisses, then turns and darts away, hobbling down the sidewalk like we just invited in evil.

  “I don’t know about you, but this is the most fucked up case ever,” Craig says with exasperation.

  His phone beeps, and he looks down. “I sent Leonard a picture of that message, and he sends me this…” He frowns, holding his phone up for me to see.

  LEONARD: People are finding that message in the houses with open doors. It’s popping up all over town now. We’ve seen it literally appear from thin air as if it’s being written.

  “So he’s a master of science as well as an organized killer. Lovely. He’ll have the whole town believing in ghosts before the end of the day,” Craig states dryly.

  “But why a ghost?” I ask.

  Screams erupt from all around before we can think about it for too long, and we look as people rush out of the park, hands in the air as they shriek.

  Again we’re running straight ahead, right into the thick of people fleeing as they scream for someone to save them.

  The fountain in the middle of the park is running red water. So are the sprinklers that pop up from the ground. I whirl around as more screams erupt, seeing a woman drop a garden hose that is gushing red.

  One girl is slapping the red water off her that is running down her face like thin blood. People are covered in it. It’s like a bad massacre horror film from the seventies when the blood was portrayed too red and thin.

  “Fuck,” Craig hisses. “How the hell did he do this?”

  “I don’t know, but whatever he wanted to achieve seems to be working. This town is crumbling within one day of his mind games.”

  Chapter 14

  Fishes live in the sea, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones.

  —William Shakespeare

  LANA

  The screams sound like music, and Hadley shudders beside me. “How’d he do that with the paint?”

  “I can’t answer that. They’ll be asking you to solve that mystery. Wouldn’t want you figuring out too soon.” I grin over at her as she rolls her eyes.

  Jake, like me, has had many years to plan this. He’s mastered several crafts, and the mind-fuckery is just getting started.

  Three years ago we committed to it and started planning it all out. But we’d been fantasizing it and creating hypothetical revenge plans. It was easy enough for me to string together one massive plan, and when I took it to Jake, he just made it that much better by infusing all his ideas.

  “I guess you won’t tell me about the cameras or the red fountains either, will you?” she asks as she drives.

  “I already helped you with your forensics on Morgan so we
could leave sooner. I’m not leaving Logan alone for that long. But I’m not helping you more than you need help.”

  She groans.

  “Lube is what you told me the reason was for the lesser scorched places on his body. You didn’t give me much else to go on. Why burn him?”

  “Figured he needed to get an early dose of what hell would be like,” I say absently.

  “Why turn the fountain red? Can you tell me that?”

  “It’s not just the fountain. It’s the entire town’s water supply. Don’t worry. It’s not toxic. I wouldn’t risk the children and Logan to that.”

  She groans, and I grin, knowing she has a love/hate relationship with me right now. Weirdly, she’s the only female sorta-friend I’ve ever had, other than Lindy. We weren’t ever too close, since Lindy was much older. But she was my sitter when I was growing up and we talked.

  Never mind. I’ve never had a real female friend.

  “Want to tell me what you learned from Monroe’s crime scene that I didn’t tell you?” I muse.

  “I learned you didn’t walk on the soft ground to leave a boot impression.”

  “Always a bonus when I get to skip those heavy boots. Love a good sidewalk.”

  “There was nothing to implicate you,” she says on a sigh.

  “I’m too good for that. I was just curious what you learned.”

  “Can we talk about something normal?” she asks, exasperated.

  I turn to face her a little better. “Like girl talk? Girls talk about penises, right?”

  She grimaces. “Considering you dismember them from bodies, I’d rather not discuss penises with you.”

  “Logan’s penis is safe, just so you know.”

  “Forget I said anything,” she grumbles.

  “Oh, never mind. Logan mentioned you were into girls, so I guess penises don’t really appeal to you.”

  She grows quiet for a minute before finally saying, “Logan has a big mouth.”

  I shrug, settling back into my seat as I watch the people scream and run, just as I knew they would. I love technology. Delaney’s terror is conveniently wired to my phone.