Killer Within (10 page)

Chapter
Twenty-Three

I ASK FOR SATURDAY OFF
work and head straight to Richmond. I have no intentions of doing anything to Marji. Not today at least. But I do want to see her and where she lives. I want answers.

I keep an eye on my rearview on and off the whole way and am confident j_d_l is not trailing me. Traffic is hit or miss, and my GPS brings me to Marji’s townhome some two hours later.

I park in the visitor section and sit for a bit just staring at her unit number. What exactly am I going to say to her?
I found a box of pictures. I saw you in the kill room. How many were you there for? Did you make me hurt that cat, or did I willingly do it?

So many questions float in and out of my brain that I wish I had a pad and pen to write them all down.

Someone pulls into the spot beside me, and I blink out of my thoughts. I have no clue if she’s home, but I get out of my Jeep and stand for a few more seconds as I continue staring up at her door.

I inhale a few nerve-fortifying breaths, and when I feel ready, I cross the parking lot and walk up her short driveway. Her garage door has a bank of windows, and I peek inside to see if a car is home.

A dark blue BMW stares back at me.

Son of a bitch.
She’s
the one who has been following me? She’s j_d_l?
She’s
my copycat? That makes no sense at all.

I charge straight up her front stairs and ring the doorbell. A couple of seconds pass, and with each one my heart rate spikes.

Click.
The dead bolt flips.

The door swings open, and my gut clenches at the sight of her. Immediately I’m filled with hate. Yes, it’s the same woman as in the pictures, just older now. If she’s my copycat, the cops are way off on the profile.

She gives me a long study before her lips curve up into a smile. “Lane.”

Hearing the casual way she speaks my name unnerves me. “Marji.”

She smiles even bigger. “I was wondering if you’d ever find out about me.”

“You sent me a card. Obviously, I would.”

She steps back and lets me in her house. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I know I do.”

She leads me down a long hallway and into the kitchen. It occurs to me I should be scared, but I’m not. The hate is driving me. And the curiosity.

I sit down at the kitchen table, and while she pours me a cup of coffee, I notice her knife rack. She catches the glance and her lips twitch in amusement.

She hands me the coffee and takes a seat herself.

“Why have you been following me?” I launch right in.

She shrugs. “I’ve been following you all for quite a while now. Couple of months or so.”

My jaw tightens.

“Daisy looks just like your mother.” She takes in my angry expression and holds her hands up. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt anybody. I’m just curious.”

“Well, stop it,” I hiss. “Just stop it.”

Marji nods. “Okay.”

A few tense seconds go by, and I don’t take my furious gaze off her. I want her to know I’m pissed. I also want her to know I
will
protect my family.

“I found a box of pictures and some letters,” I tell her.

Marji brightens. “The letters?” She laughs. “Your mom and I got a kick out of being old-school pen pals.” She laughs again. “Did you bring them with you?”

I’m repulsed. “No, I burned them.”

She sighs, obviously upset over this statement.

“How did you know my parents?” I ask.

“Lane, I’m family. Your mom and I are
sisters
. I’m older by a year.”

Sisters . . .

It takes me a second to wrap my brain around that.

How is it possible there is so much about my mother that I didn’t know? How did I not know she had a sister? I don’t get it. I just don’t get it.
Hide in plain sight.
That’s what Dr. Issa had said. It’s exactly what my mother did. It’s exactly what I’m doing.

Marji takes the cream and stirs it into her coffee. “I actually dated your father for a while. I introduced him to your mom.”

My lip curls. If circumstances had been different Marji could’ve been my mother.

“Your mom and I used to talk all the time. I even babysat you on occasion, and then after she got married to Victor, I kept up with you through her. I have every one of your school pictures but this year, of course. Maybe you can send me one?”

She’s got to be kidding.

She taps her spoon and sets it aside.

“Did you have any interaction with Daisy?” I ask.

Marji smiles again. I hate her smile. “Yes. It was all very sweet.”

I don’t believe her. “Did you think me and you skinning a cat was
sweet
, too?”

She chuckles and says, “Oh, Lane,” and takes a sip of her coffee.

I want to grab her cup and smash it into her face.

“How did your mom really die?” she asks.

I choose to answer that question with one of my own. “How many of the killings were you there for?”

“About half of them.”

“Did you participate or did you just watch?”

Her eyes brighten. “Oh, I definitely participated. I was even there for that one you witnessed too.” She gets this faraway look on her face like she’s remembering, and that look, almost one of fondness, sickens me. “Who knew all those animals we tortured when we were kids would transform into the greatness your mom became.”

I stand up. I’ve heard enough. “You make me sick. What do you think this is? A friendly visit?” If only she knew what I’m capable of doing to her.

Marji reaches out and tenderly takes my hand. “Your mom was so quick to embrace things when we were kids. Just like you did.”

I yank my hand from her creepy grasp. “I am
nothing
like my mother.”

“Oh, but you really are.”

I get right in her face. “You’re part of this. You helped make me into who I am.
I hate you.
”

“I don’t care who you are. I fully accept you.” Marji closes the one-inch gap between us, and she kisses me on the cheek.

I rear back and punch her in the face.

My cell rings and it startles me. I don’t know why, but I pull it out of my pocket and look. It’s Dr. Issa. “What?” I snap into the phone.

“I heard you took the day off. Are you okay?”

“No.”

He doesn’t immediately respond, then, “Where are you?”

I look straight across the kitchen at Marji, my
aunt
, as she stares right back at me, smiling again.

Ugh.

“I’m fine.” I click my phone off. “Are you JDL?”

She blinks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.” I shove my phone in my pocket and walk straight past her out the front door. She’s either lying or there are two people following me.

“See ya later,” she yells after me, and I ignore her and whatever game she thinks she’s playing.

As I peel out of her parking lot, I glance up to see her waving from her doorway.

I’m coming back for you, bitch.

Chapter
Twenty-Four

I DRIVE LIKE A DEMON
on fire back up I-95. I don’t care if I get stopped. Bring it on. I weave in and out of traffic, get honked at, floor the gas, and push my Jeep to ninety. If I could, I’d drive off the end of the earth right now.

Mom and Marji are sisters. Deranged sisters. Victor has to know. Why wouldn’t he have told me I have an aunt? Mom and Marji. Me and Daisy. Sisters.

Hell no, Daisy and I are nothing like them.

Marji said they stayed in contact. Did they meet in secret to what, talk about old times? Teach me to be like them? Teach Daisy?

Oh God.

I don’t get it. None of this makes sense.

Why—why—
WHY
lead this life with kids and Victor? Was it some master plan—all for a cover so she could live this other crazy existence?

Did Mom intend for me to find those pictures? She intended for me to be the next Decapitator, this I know. But what were her intentions with Daisy? What, she had two daughters and thought,
Let me see which one is the darkest
?

So if she and Marji had been hurting animals and doing their evil stuff way before they met my real dad, then she’d been planning on this for years. Her first kill hadn’t been a crime of passion, like she claimed. Who’s to say my preschool teacher was her first kill? She and Marji could’ve very well butchered a person before that. She and Marji could’ve practiced on several people for all I know.

Panic ricochets through me as I grip my steering wheel and do something I never do. I scream.

A semi driver blares his horn. I yank my Jeep right in front of him and slam on my brakes. He slams on his and skids, and I gun my engine to take the Falls Church exit. Horns echo after me, and I clench my teeth in need. If I could kill someone right now, I would.

I totally get why Tommy comes out here on his bike and drives the way he does. It’s reckless and stupid. I’m fully aware of this. But it’s an out for the anger scorching my insides.

I can’t go home. I need something . . .
now
.

I drive the back roads to—I’m not sure where. Find myself in Seven Corners, then in the parking lot of an apartment complex I know of but have never actually been to.

I climb from my Jeep, slam my door, and take the outside steps two at a time. I find the apartment I’m looking for and bang on the door.

It swings open and I don’t wait for a welcome; I just charge right on in.

“Lane, what are you doing here?” Dr. Issa cautiously asks. “How did you know where I live?”

“Zach told me.” I turn on him. “Who
am I
?”

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I just found out . . .”

He waits.

My mind reels with the enormity of it all, and I want to tell him. I
need
to tell him. “I just found out my mom has a sister and was hiding
a lot
of secrets from me.”

Dr. Issa doesn’t even blink. “What secrets?”

I stare into his dark eyes, sink into them, really. What am I doing? I have to get in control. I can’t tell him who I am. Who my mom was. Marji. My real dad. The pictures. What am I doing? I grab my head. I have to stop thinking. I have to focus.

I close my eyes.
Aarrgghh . . .

“Lane?”

My eyes snap open, and whatever he sees in them makes him step back.

“You need to leav—”

I launch myself at him, cover his mouth with my own, press my body to his. Somewhere in the far depths of my brain I’m aware he’s resisting, but I don’t stop.

He turns and pushes me against the wall, and everywhere in my brain it now registers he’s no longer resisting.

I wrap my legs around him and he grinds against me. I dig my fingers into his hair and he rips my coat open. I shove him back onto the couch, straddle him, and ride his erection right into climax. I cry out. Then he does. And we both fall limply against each other.

I swallow, my eyes closed, every cell in my body vibrating in numb pulses.

I don’t know how much time passes, but I finally open my eyes to see him gently pushing me off him.

He scrubs his hands down his face. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

I slowly,
carefully
, get to my feet. I tune in to myself and realize my brain is completely, blessedly, empty. “I needed that.”

He looks up at me from the couch. “That can’t happen again.”

“I know.” He’s twenty-five. I’m seventeen. I know.

Dr. Issa glances at the open door. And sighs. “God, I didn’t realize that was open.”

I look down at my clothes, only now realizing that other than my jacket neither one of us unbuttoned, unzipped, un-nothinged. Both of our jeans are fully intact.

“I’m going to go.” I don’t wait for a response and instead walk right out the open door, down to my Jeep, and climb back inside.

My phone rings. Zach. Talk about a shitty coincidence. “Hey.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”

I put my key in and crank my engine.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Humping your brother.
“On my way home. Did you need something?”

Zach doesn’t respond. So much time goes by that I check my phone, see we’re still connected, and prompt, “Zach?”

He sighs. “No, I guess not. Sorry. Bye.”

He clicks off and I consider calling back but dial Dr. Issa instead. He doesn’t pick up, which doesn’t surprise me. It rolls to voice mail and I simply say, “Zach just called me. He doesn’t sound good. Check on him.”

I drive straight home, and despite the call from Zach, my brain still stays pleasantly empty. No spinning thoughts. No urges to curb. It seems orgasms from the Issa brothers might be the key to maintaining my sanity.

This thought has me smiling to myself as I walk the sidewalk to our front door.

“Hey.”

I glance up to see Tommy sitting on his motorcycle. I immediately think of that kiss on my cheek. His whiskers. And get turned on imagining what would’ve happened if I’d visited him instead of Dr. Issa.

He studies me for a second. “I’ve never seen you smile before.”

“Nor I you.”

Tommy nods at that. “Point taken.”

“How did you know where I live?”

“Went to Patch and Paw and asked. They told me.”

“They’re not to supposed to tell you that information.”

Tommy shrugs. “I know. I was surprised. Anyway, I wanted to apologize.”

“For?”

“Last time. I feel like I might have accused you or blamed you or something.”

“You didn’t. We’re good.”

He glances at my front door, and I get the distinct impression he didn’t come to apologize. “I get it,” I decide to tell him. “The crazy driving. I did it today. It makes sense now.”

“No it doesn’t. It’s stupid.”

“True. It is. But I get it.” I’m fully aware I don’t have to tell him this, but something inside me says he needs to hear it.

“Thanks.”

Our front door opens and Gramps steps out. He looks down the steps at us. First me, then Tommy. “Dinner’s on. Who’s your friend?”

My gramps really does annoy me. “Tommy. He’s in my grief group.”

This seems to appease him. “Five minutes.”

I want to tell him to get started without me, but I know this’ll press my luck. “Okay.”

Gramps closes the door, and a VW Bug pulls up. It double parks and Catalina steps out. Marji, Dr. Issa, Zach, Tommy, and now Catalina all in one day. Suddenly my blessedly calm brain isn’t so tranquil.

She waves—“Lane”—then glances at Tommy. “Hey. What are
you
doing here?”

I look between them. “You two know each other?”

He doesn’t answer and instead cranks his engine and drives off.

O-kay.
That was rude.

Catalina steps onto the sidewalk. “Yeah, we know each other. He used to be a pretty active member on the Masked Savior site.”

Isn’t this interesting? “He’s not on anymore?”

She shakes her head. “Not for a while now.”

Huh. Tommy used to be a member of “my” site. Why would he have stopped posting?

“But anyway, I was driving past your neighborhood and thought I’d stop in and tell you something.”

I raise my brows, waiting.

“I heard my dad talking on the phone. Someone’s come forward claiming the Masked Savior abducted him, but he escaped,
and
he saw who the Savior really is.”