Sudden Guilt (A Nick Teffinger Thriller / Read in Any Order) Read online

  “You mean the lawyer?”

  “Right.”

  “No way,” she said. “I haven’t been screwing his brains out so we can cool it.”

  He said nothing.

  “I’m going to come over and stitch you up,” she added.

  “I’m fine.”

  She grunted.

  “This is no time for egos. I’ll be there in a half hour.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Day Four—May 8

  Thursday Night

  ______________

  MITCH MITCHELL HAD A SHAVED HEAD and a lean, no-nonsense skin-and-muscle body with a barbwire tattoo that wrapped around his chest three times. At five-feet-eight he’d never be the biggest dog in the pack, but he looked like the one most likely to die fighting. He wore a pair of loose jeans and nothing else—no shirt, no shoes, no socks. He paced back and forth in the living room, talking intently into a phone and taking swallows out of a bottle of whiskey when he wasn’t waving it angrily in the air.

  Paige and Ta’Veya watched him through binoculars.

  It was 10:32 at night.

  A thick blanket of clouds kept the sky darker than dark.

  Even though they were dressed in all things black and hidden in a clump of trees out in the field more than fifty yards from Mitchell’s house, the creepiness of the guy still reached them even there.

  Paige handed the binoculars to Ta’Veya and said, “This guy scares me to death.”

  Ta’Veya grunted.

  “Somewhere in that rat hole of a house is a voice scrambler and a half-dozen black steel collars. I can smell ’em,” she said. “Ouch!”

  “What?”

  “He just threw the phone against the wall.”

  Paige frowned.

  “I guess that’s one way to hang up.”

  Mitchell scribbled something on a piece of paper, folded it in half and dropped it on the coffee table. He threw on socks and shoes. Two seconds later the screen door slammed open and he stormed out, pulling a black T-shirt over his head. He got in an old pickup, pulled the door shut as hard as he could and squealed out of the driveway. Fifteen seconds later his taillights hit South Golden Road and disappeared to the left.

  Ta’Veya grabbed Paige’s elbow and squeezed.

  “I’m going in,” she said. “Stay here and call me if he comes back.”

  Paige swallowed.

  That was the plan they’d discussed, in the event the opportunity presented itself.

  Still she didn’t like it.

  It didn’t feel right.

  Something was off, something she couldn’t put her finger on.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  “If any headlights at all come up the street, call right away. Don’t wait to try and figure out if they’re his or not. Just assume they are.”

  “I will.”

  “If you call I’ll probably end up going out the back,” Ta’Veya said. “Don’t try to figure out where I am. Just get to the car and wait for me.”

  “I know.”

  “I know you know. I’m just being sure one last time.”

  They hugged and then Ta’Veya disappeared into the darkness. Ten seconds later she returned and handed Paige the car keys. “Hold these,” she said. “They’re jamming into my leg.”

  Then she disappeared again.

  PAIGE CHEWED HER LOWER LIP, feeling guilty that she wasn’t sharing the risk but knowing that one of them needed to be the lookout. They’d flipped a coin earlier. Ta’Veya won and chose to go in.

  It had been a long day.

  Paige had mixed emotions about stabbing Tarzan in the back with the pencil this afternoon. He truly had no idea who she was, meaning he wasn’t the man behind the collar. So in hindsight they were after someone else, not him. But still, he was violent and weird, and clearly would have done her a lot more harm than he did if she hadn’t escaped.

  Of that she was certain.

  He might have even killed her.

  That was clear.

  So screw him.

  He’d left her no choice.

  THUNDER CRACKLED IN THE DISTANCE and then it started to rain. She nestled up against the tree trunk, picked up the binoculars and pointed them at Mitchell's house just in time to see Ta’Veya walk up the front steps. Mitchell must have left the front door unlocked because Ta’Veya nudged it open and stepped inside.

  She spent a few moments in the living room and apparently saw nothing of interest because she disappeared into the back of the house.

  The rain intensified.

  Water fingered its way through Paige’s hair to her scalp.

  Headlights flickered behind her, way back by the rock quarry where the Audi was parked, and then disappeared.

  Three more minutes passed.

  No sign of Ta’Veya.

  Paige got nervous and dialed Ta’Veya’s number.

  The connection went through and before she could say anything Ta’Veya asked, “Is he coming?”

  “No. I just wanted to be sure you’re okay.”

  “I am. No problem.”

  “What are you finding?”

  “Lot’s of bondage stuff,” she said. “This guy’s definitely way off the charts.”

  “Did you find a collar?”

  “Yeah, but it’s leather,” Ta’Veya said. “Nothing steel yet. I know it’s here though. Just give me another five minutes.”

  “What did that note say?”

  “What note?”

  “Whatever it was he wrote right before he stormed out.”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t read it.”

  SUDDENLY SOMETHING GRABBED Paige’s peripheral vision, namely an ever-so-slight movement in the window of the house across the street from Mitchell’s. Just for grins she pointed the binoculars that way.

  What she saw startled her so much that she dropped the binoculars.

  A man was watching her through binoculars, looking directly at her.

  He had a phone, too.

  Talking animatedly.

  Suddenly Ta’Veya’s voice snagged her attention. She sounded panicked. “The note says, You’re dead,” she said. “I think it’s for us. Get out of there right now and meet me at the car!”

  Paige turned just in time to see a dark shape lunge at her.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Day Four—May 8

  Thursday Night

  ______________

  BY ELEVEN O’CLOCK AT NIGHT TEFFINGER still hadn’t fallen asleep. Outside a gusty wind pushed a heavy rain against the windows, wild enough to keep a drunken sailor awake, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Ta’Veya hadn’t called all day.

  Not for supper.

  Not for dessert.

  Not for nothing.

  He got out of bed, put in his contacts, threw on sweatpants and then bounded out the front door, determined to jog three miles no matter how drenched or battered he got.

  He ran a mile.

  Then came to his senses and turned around.

  Back home he stood under a hot shower for thirty seconds, towel-dried his hair just enough so that it didn’t drip, and then drove straight to Paige Deverex’s apartment, with the radio playing “Paint it Black.” He needed to know if Ta’Veya got his note and needed to know now.

  He needed to know if he’d misread her.

  He needed to know if he was wasting his time.

  When he arrived, the Mustang was parked in the exact same spot as before. Paige’s apartment was dark. His business card, with the note on the back, was still stuck in the door jam.

  He knocked on the door.

  No one answered.

  The corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

  She hadn’t blown him off after all.

  When he got back home he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Day Five—May 9

  Friday

  ______________

  THE SPIDER WEB SHOOT
took most of the day but couldn’t have gone better. Scotty Marks’ web worked perfectly, the women had attitude and, most importantly of all, Aaron felt brand new. The pencil in his back hadn’t punctured any organs. As for the gash in his head, it itched like a madman but stayed closed thanks to Del Rae’s needlework.

  After the shoot, two of the models hung around, thinking they could coax him into a threesome. Eight months ago he would have thrown them on the mattress and rocked their little worlds until they couldn’t see straight, back in the pre-Del Rae days.

  But not now.

  The minute they left, he tuned the satellite radio to a rock station and headed for the darkroom. He was still there hours later when Del Rae showed up with Chinese takeout.

  He suddenly realized he hadn’t stopped for food all day.

  They ate on the roof, under a wide Colorado sky, sitting in chaise lounges and passing eight-by-ten color prints back and forth.

  Del Rae was impressed with the shoot.

  She said so and then took him to the mattress to prove it.

  Afterwards they planned the upcoming evening, going over every little detail until there were none left. So far Aaron couldn’t see any problems, other than the obvious risk of the cops coming along at the exact wrong time. Del Rae got the toggle switch installed yesterday, the one that would mysteriously kill her engine on demand and bring the vehicle to a breakdown wherever and whenever she chose. It worked fine. The lawyer—Robert Sharapova, Esq.—had already fed his naïve little wife a story about having to go out of town for depositions this weekend. Wifey-poo would drop him off at the airport and wave goodbye with that sweet, innocent little hand of hers.

  Del Rae would pick him up fifteen minutes later wearing a short white dress and a black thong.

  He’d hop in.

  She’d move his hand to her leg and purr as they drove off.

  TRANE GOT TO THE HIDEAWAY JUST BEFORE DARK and parked the Wrangler in the back. A three-fourths moon hung in the east, bright enough to cast shadows.

  Crickets chirped.

  Otherwise the night sat coffin quiet.

  Inside the house he found Rain St. John exactly where he left her yesterday morning, naked and chained on the mattress, awake but groggy.

  “Aaron?” she asked.

  The words dripped with nervousness.

  He wore his Dick Zipp suit. He wanted her to see him that way at all times so she’d be able to describe him confidently to the police.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” he said.

  “Get me out of here,” she said. “I can’t take any more of this.”

  He kneeled down and unlocked the chain, surprised to find her ankle raw and bloody. She’d obviously been pulling on it.

  “What happened here?”

  “I freaked out,” she said.

  “I’d say so.”

  He smiled.

  Actually that was a nice touch, a very nice touch.

  It added a lot of unexpected authenticity.

  She hugged him, tight.

  He hugged her back and then rubbed her shoulders.

  “I couldn’t take another night here,” she said. “There was a whole pack of coyotes right outside the door last night. They kept howling and circling the house. I was afraid they’d jump through the window.”

  “Coyotes won’t hurt you,” he said. Then he held her at arms length and looked her in the eyes. “Are you ready for the grand finale?”

  “No but let’s do it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  “We’ve gone this far,” she said.

  They had sex.

  He wore a condom and took her roughly.

  Technically she should be unconscious but he let her stay awake.

  She came twice.

  Then he injected her and let her walk the stiffness out of her legs while the drug took effect. After she fell unconscious, he cut her hair off with a pair of scissors and threw it in the corner.

  Then he carried her nude body outside to the Wrangler, put her in the back and covered her with a blanket.

  Game time.

  THE CAMEL’S BREATH IS A SEEDY BAR with cheap beer and bad bands that can easily hold three hundred drunks on a Friday night. It sits in that industrial no man’s land north of downtown not far from the South Platte River. At the end of a drunken night, the road to the south is the way out. North is nothing more than a mile stretch of lonely road that leads to a dead-end. The more the beer flows, the more cars there are that get to figure that out.

  Tarzan parked on the shoulder three-fourths of the way up that dead-end road with the lights out, waiting in the dark.

  Finally headlights headed his way. As the car passed he slumped down as far as his oversized frame would go and watched.

  A woman drove, a woman by herself.

  Perfect.

  He tapped the brake lights twice and then threw a bucket full of roofing nails on the road about thirty yards up. When the car came back it came fast.

  Aaron could read her mind.

  She was pissed for going the wrong way and was now trying to make up lost time.

  He chuckled.

  That isn’t the worst of your luck, honey.

  Both front tires blew exactly as they were supposed to. The woman screamed and muscled the car to a stop just before running into the back end of the Wrangler.

  Aaron—make that Dick Zipp—hopped out immediately.

  “Watch it, woman, you almost hit me,” he said.

  She didn’t get out.

  So he bent down to inspect the damage, looking as normal and helpful as he could.

  “You got a flat,” he shouted.

  “What?”

  She powered the window down.

  “I said you got a flat.”

  “Oh.”

  “You got a spare in the trunk?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well we better check,” Aaron said.

  She opened the door, slowly, still deciding.

  Aaron could read her mind.

  This guy’s huge and dressed like trailer-trash, out here in the middle of the night.

  She finally stepped out and walked up front to see the damage. In the headlights now, Aaron got his first good look at her.

  Young and pretty.

  Insanely drunk.

  Perfect.

  “Oh, man, they’re both flat,” she said.

  She must have sensed danger because she abruptly turned just as Aaron grabbed her. He locked her up with one arm and then brought a saturated cloth to her mouth. She kicked helplessly for a few seconds and then went limp.

  He laid her on the ground.

  Then he put Rain St. John’s body in the front seat of the woman’s car, put the woman in the back of the Wrangler, and got out of there.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Day Five—May 9

  Friday

  ______________

  THE HOTEL HAD AN ALARM CLOCK but the alarm part of it didn’t work, so Paige got up at the first light of dawn to be absolutely certain she didn’t oversleep and miss any of her classes. Above all else, she needed to hold her studies together. If that part of her life unraveled, then she was done, plain and simple.

  She studied her face in the mirror as the shower warmed up. Her right eye opened fully now but looked terrible and probably would for a week.

  She needed to come up with a story.

  “What happened to you?” would be the first words out of everyone’s mouth.

  “I fell down,” didn’t seem quite convincing enough.

  Luckily the little freak Mitch Mitchell had been sloppy drunk, otherwise she’d be dead right now, guaranteed. She was pretty sure of what happened last night. Mitchell’s neighbor must have seen Paige and Ta’Veya out in the field and called Mitchell. That was the conversation they saw, when Mitchell threw the phone into the wall.

  He didn’t want to scare them off.

  He wanted to hurt ’em.

&
nbsp; Or capture ’em.

  That’s why he didn’t bolt out the front door and charge. They would have seen him and been long gone by the time he got there.

  So he left and circled around behind them, probably hoping that one or both of them would be stupid enough to be lured into the house; in fact, even making it easy for them by leaving the front door unlocked.

  And they fell for it.

  He must have felt like he won the lottery when he found that they actually split up and that one of them was still out there in the dark, alone, not even looking in his direction as he crept up.

  He was definitely a smart little toad. Too bad he wasn’t smart enough to realize how drunk he was.

  Or how strong Paige was.

  Or how fast she could run after she got out from under him.

  LAW SCHOOL FELT LIKE A COCOON, normal and safe, the way her life was supposed to be. She spent the entire day looking, acting and even feeling like a law student. It wasn’t until classes were over, when she realized that she couldn’t go back to her apartment, that the reality of her life reentered her thoughts.

  Ta’Veya picked her up at six o’clock.

  “Anyone notice your eye?” she asked.

  Paige chuckled.

  “Let me put it this way, it’s the first time some of the guys looked at my face first, if you catch my drift.”

  “Consider the drift caught.”

  “Not that my drift is even that big,” Paige added.

  “Size means nothing,” Ta’Veya said. “It’s all about attitude.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  They zigzagged through the city streets until they felt comfortable that no psycho weirdo killer was on their tail and then drove to Paige’s apartment to pick up fresh clothes and her checkbook. Paige found a card stuffed in the door jam, read it and handed it to Ta’Veya as they walked inside.

  “Apparently you’re dessert.”

  Ta’Veya looked like she was uncertain what to do.

  “Go ahead and go,” Paige said. “You don’t need to baby-sit me.”