House of Fire (Unraveled Series) (27 page)

“It was the best thing to do. The
only
thing to do,” Janice said.

“Convenient that you had a
crematory already,” Evie accused.

“Look here, girl, none of that is
your business,” Janice shot back. “What God called Ken to do is between Him and
Ken. Not you.”

“Killing innocent people is not
God’s plan,” Evie argued.

“Innocent?” Janice cackled as she
pulled her fingernails off Evie’s legs. She pointed her long fingernail in
Evie’s face. “There was nothing innocent about the men that went into that
building.”

“It’s sick. Along with the other
twenty-two people that Holston killed, how many of those were innocent girls?
Women that he was trafficking?” Evie spat.

And she's back.
Delaney felt a twinge of comfort seep into her body, although the revelation of
the crematory in the backyard was disturbing; the thought of being burned alive
singed into her mind. The panic coursed through her veins as she thought of the
body count accumulating.

“Trafficking?” Janice asked, her
face twisted into a question. Delaney realized that Janice probably had never
heard of the term.

“The women he bought. How many did
he kill that were women?” Delaney asked, clarifying the term for Janice.

“Holston’s never laid a finger on
any women,” Janice cursed them, her own finger wagging in the air, shaming
them.

“I saw it,” Evie continued. “With
my own eyes. He was buying women.”

“He’s never touched a single
woman,” Janice asserted. “Only men. Ken taught him only men. Both Ken and
Holston were called by God to do his will, but Holston was a little different.
Holston needed a little help directing his pain and anger. He didn’t like it
messy like it had been with that mayor. It had to be clean for Holston.”

Taught him.
Delaney closed her eyes, thinking of younger versions of Ken and Holston on the
prowl for kills. Ken was Holston’s mentor; a team of killers until Ken was too
old. Holston had to get a new partner, Gunnar. The initials on Gunnar’s arm
came into her head. Had Gunnar lived any longer, he would have had to start on
the other arm. Then what? His legs? Delaney shuddered at the thought. If Gunnar
wasn’t killing women, what were they doing with them? Who were they killing?

“So Gunnar brought them all in,
huh?” Evie said. “Were you home when he did it? When he brought the bodies to
burn in your backyard?”

“Holston saved Gunnar. Gunnar
should have died by the hands of my Holston, but Holston was an angel. He gave
Gunnar a second chance to redeem all the wrong he had done to women. Gunnar was
paying back God for all the sins he had committed by helping Holston,” Janice
said.

“By killing people for Holston,”
Evie sneered.

“Don’t be so quick to judge, my
dear,” Janice’s eyes narrowed onto Evie. “From the sounds of it, you might have
a little trouble yourself. You’ve changed a bit since I’ve seen you last, but
of course, you wouldn’t remember me. It’s been too long. You were two. A
precious child he had rescued.”

“He didn’t rescue me, he kidnapped
me,” Evie shot back, thrashing her legs and arms against the twine. Delaney
looked back to see her tiny hands cupped, turning red as she attempted to
finagle her hands out of the restraints. The rope burned her wrists.

“I never was a big part of your
life, although I wanted to be, ya know,” Janice started. “I wanted to see your
sweet little face, your pink cheeks. To bounce you in my lap. But he was afraid
to let anyone know he had you around here. Not until you were older anyway. When
you outgrew the baby look. The sweetness. By the looks of it, it didn’t take
you long. We coulda been good grandparents, ya know. Had he let us.”

“I’m sure you would have been great
grandparents, just like he was a great father,” Evie muttered as she winced,
the twine digging deeper.

“You’re not gonna get out,” Janice
rapped on Evie’s leg with her nails, this time with only a light graze. Evie’s
skin rose in small goose bumps as she jerked her leg, trying to avoid the
scratch. “He tied them before he left and you have a visitor coming. I think
it’s best you’re tied up for your visitor.”

Visitor.
Janice turned around and waddled to the cabinet, opening the door slowly, her
reach slow and methodic.

“Are you okay?” Delaney whispered.
Evie nodded her head, her eyes searching the kitchen. Janice pulled another
glass down, identical to the one she had given Delaney. Floral. Foggy. Most
likely not cleaned in a long time, a very long time.

“Your gun?” Evie whispered.
“Knife’s gone.”

“I don’t know where it is. Ken is
in the other room,” Delaney nodded her head toward the dining room where Ken
had disappeared. Janice turned on the faucet with a squeak. The trickle of an
amber liquid dripped from the spout. “He used a shovel on your head.”

“How?” Evie whispered.

The water stopped. Delaney’s
shoulder shrugged up and cascaded down just as Janice turned and moved back
toward Evie, the water tipping in the glass with each step. Delaney stared at
the glass, willing it with all her energy to drop to the ground and shatter
into small glass shards. At least they would have something to distract Janice,
a possibility of using a glass piece to get out the twine, but the glass stayed
in her hand, still shaking as she shoved it into Evie’s face.

“Drink,” Janice ordered.

Evie stared straight ahead, her
eyes relentless against Janice’s ugly gaze. “Why are you doing this for him?
Look at your house. It’s filthy. Disgusting. And what about yourself, have you
looked in a mirror lately? He’s not taking care of you. You shouldn’t be doing
any favors for this man you call your son.”

Janice displayed her toothy grin
again and reached up to pat the fraying strands of wound curlers on her head.
“This old thing doesn’t need anything from my Holston and neither does Ken. We
like it that way. We take care of ourselves. And my house, it’s as clean as it
ever has been.”

Evie eyed the piles of boxes and
broken lamps in the dining room.

“He’s tried, ya know,” Janice
continued with a wave of her hand. “Money. Then a housekeeper. Then a glorified
babysitter, but none of that worked. Not for me and Ken. We’re simple people,
ya know. People of the land. People of God.”

“People of God don’t tie the good
ones up,” Evie said. Her hands finally rested behind her back, the skin raw and
pink where she had tried to slip her wrists through. Evie’s face twisted up
into a sarcastic smile.

“You’re not the chosen one, my
dear. Besides, from the sounds of it, you’ve been a little trouble yourself.
I’ll let Holston decide who goes and who stays. I’ve done my job and kept you
here. It’s only a matter of time until the visitor shows, and when he does,
you’ll wipe that smile right from your face. Or he’ll do that for you,” Janice
warned.

We need to get out.
Delaney scanned Evie’s chair, looking for a loose tie around her feet or hands.
The wooden chairs were made of thick, solid wood, but the joints were wobbly.
Loose. If one of them could get a hand or leg free, they could take her frail
body out. Janice would call for Ken, but she doubted that he would even hear
her. The only way out was to get out of the chair.
Break the chair.
Delaney
began to rock her body, jerking it hard back and forth until her chair began to
move, the legs knocking against the linoleum. Rap. Rap. Rap.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Janice
warned, her hands fluttered at Delaney’s legs to stop. Evie followed, rocking
her chair back and forth. Rap. Rap. Rap. Delaney’s chair finally tipped,
sending her sprawling to the ground. Her shoulder smashed into the ground,
landing with a thud. Delaney lay on the floor, still strapped to the chair, her
eyes staring at the dingy linoleum when a pair of black laced shoes appeared.
The rap of Evie’s chair stopped. The shoes stepped closer, squeaking against
the floor until they stopped in front of her, his knees squatting down.

Lieutenant Schaefer.

30

June 17 - 2:30 p.m.

“Well, look what we
have here.” Lieutenant Schaefer’s voice dropped down, just inches from
Delaney’s face. She groaned, the pain in her shoulder throbbing outward into
the rest of her body.

She wondered if
Lieutenant Schaefer had used the canned phrase as a cop before; she imagined
his smooth face crinkled in the corner with a sideways smile, just like the
smile he had given her at the gala.
Charming.
Beneath that beautiful
exterior was a fraudulent cop of questionable morals. Make that no morals. No
conscious. Just like Holston. He was being paid off by Holston to keep his
murderous streak under wraps.
A grueling task.
She wondered how much the
challenge cost Holston each year. Holston’s side hobby was an expensive one.
Delaney let her cheek press against the coolness of the floor, her hair sprawled
around her like a brown mohawk.

“Fuck off Schaefer,”
Evie spat behind him, still restrained upright in the chair. “You dirty
bastard.”

“Such foul language
for a pretty girl like you, Evie Parker,” he said as he stood back up, his feet
moving away from Delaney.

“How much does he pay
you to cover his tracks?” Evie shot at him. “How much is he going to pay you to
put a bullet through my head?” His feet stopped a foot in front of Evie.

Delaney strained her
neck, trying to get a glimpse of Evie. Lieutenant Schaefer was bent over her,
his finger tracing along her cheek.

“Get off!” Evie
yelled, thrashing her bound body in the chair. It knocked against the wall,
thudding over and over.

“Shush now, girl, you
don’t want this to be harder than it is.” Janice put her crooked finger up to
her mouth, signaling Evie, like a small child, to be quiet. “You don’t want ol’
crazy Ken to get up and bash your head again, do ya?”

Delaney cringed as
she wiggled her smashed leg against the chair, desperate for something to come
loose. She pleaded to see a broken joint or splintered section that would allow
her just enough room to slide out of the chair. But nothing moved. Her leg
ached instead.
We’re dead.

“Janice, why don’t
you go by Ken in the living room? That’s where he is, right?” Lieutenant
Schaefer’s voice softened, dripping with the “good boy” persona he wore at the
gala.

Delaney sighed as
Janice agreed and thanked him for coming, muttering how exhausting it all had
been. His voice coddled her, encouraging her to lie down after all she had been
through. Her worn rubber shoes scuttled past Delaney’s head, pausing
momentarily as she tried to maneuver around the toppled chair. Her footsteps
disappeared into the rest of the house. Delaney closed her eyes, not wanting to
know what the rest of her house looked like. She couldn’t possibly imagine.

Lieutenant Schaefer’s
shoes walked back to Delaney and stopped again. His hands wrapped around the
chair, and Delaney felt her body being hoisted up while still secured to the
chair. He grunted as he lifted the chair upright and the clattering of the legs
came to a stop. Delaney stared into his unblemished face, the smoothness disgustingly
perfect. She wanted to spit in his face, yet she couldn’t; he simply looked too
innocent to be mixed up in all of this. It was the same feeling that she
guessed most everyone else had with Lieutenant Schaefer. He was one of the good
ones, a perfect specimen of a citizen; strapping, youthful, determined,
honorable. Those were the words she was sure that the residents of Appleton had
used to describe him. He broke women’s hearts. He was probably good in bed. His
perfect eyelashes slowly batted down on her. His cologne filled her nostrils; a
sporty, fresh smell reminiscent of a shower at the gym. His body’s frame, a
perfect build; not too thick not too thin. His muscles toned to the right
degree; intimidating, though not so much so that he would threaten anyone. You
felt safe with Lieutenant Schaefer. He was capable, trustworthy. Holston had
chosen his ally prudently.

A loud, screeching
noise ripped from the other room. A set of strings sounded, the bass pounding
through as the record player bellowed the tune. Frank Sinatra’s sultry voice
sang over the trumpets. Delaney finally recognized the song as Sinatra sang the
words
The Best is Yet to Come.
Her stomach lurched as the song echoed
through the kitchen. It was a twisted, disturbing calling.

Schaefer narrowed in
on Delaney, studying her face until darkness overcame his eyes.
Not so
perfect after all. The sinister Schaefer was coming out.

“And what are we
going to do with you, Ms. Delaney Jones? That one over there,” he nodded his
head back to Evie, his eyes not flinching from Delaney, “I have orders on her
that I will have no issues following through on. No matter how hard he tried,
he just couldn’t reason with her. He doesn’t want to have to do it, but
sometimes, things just don’t go as you expect, do they?”

“So how many have you
killed for him? How many have you covered up?” Delaney asked.

“I can’t say that
I’ve killed anyone, not yet anyway. You both have me beat on that one,” he
said, moving back to put his hands on his hips. He stood in his black police
uniform, the same one Delaney had set eyes on earlier that morning with
Sanchez. His badge gleamed a brassy sheen. She wanted to rip it from his chest;
he didn’t deserve to wear the honor. She eyed his holster, the 9mm resting
comfortably alongside his hip - just like the one she had trained with at the
range. She knew it well. The recoil, the grip of the gun; it was all coming
back to her. If only she could get it somehow.

“I did cover up the
disaster you ladies caused last winter.” He let out a small laugh. “That wasn’t
very easy. You both left a massive amount of evidence. The hatchet. The
bullets. The bodies. You could learn a thing or two from your father.”