The Scum of All Fears: Squeaky Clean Mysteries, Book 5 (23 page)

CHAPTER
36

The distraction gave Jones just enough time to kick my gun. The weapon
flew from my hand and landed with a plop in the swamp. In one swift motion, Jones shoved Clarice to the ground, ordered Rose to take care of her, and grabbed me.

He held
a knife against my neck. “Get his keys!”

“Whose?”
Goosebumps raced across my skin, popping up like warning signs on a washed out road.

“
Your little lover boy’s!”

I
carefully squatted beside Riley. Jones kept the knife at my neck, reminding me that with one wrong move, my life could be over. The blade pricked my skin as I leaned forward.

All I could think about was Riley, though.
My heart squeezed with pain as I looked at him. Riley. My Riley.

I wanted to comfort him. To touch him. To tell him everything would be okay.

To tell him I’d give up everything to be with him.

Clarice’s whimpers in the background only added to the strain of the moment. They reminded me that I might not have my happy ending.
They reminded me that life and death were on the line.

I swallowed, my throat tight. I reached into
Riley’s pocket and grabbed his car keys. I mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before Jones pulled me back to my feet.

“
Good girl. Now move!”

I had no choice but to
walk. If I didn’t, I would die. Then I’d be of no use at all.

“Where’s your car?”
His hot breath hit my cheek. I remembered the earthy scent I’d noticed on Jones when he was in my apartment. I smelled the swamp and hadn’t even realized it.

“Down the lane.”

“Get going then!”

I could
hardly keep up. The blade pressed into my neck. Its sharp edges cut the top layer of my skin. I could feel blood trickling down onto my shirt.

“Where are we going?”

“Away from here before the police show up,” he muttered.

We reached the car, and Jones
pushed me inside through the passenger door. He kept the knife at my side as he shoved me over the center console until I fell into the driver’s seat. Then he slipped inside behind me and slammed the door. Something about being in the car alone with Jones increased my level of panic by about three hundred times.

“Now, drive!”
He leaned beside me, one arm behind me, the other pressing the knife into the flesh at my neck.

If I hit one pothole, all of this could be over. And out on these roads, I might not even see the pothole coming.

My whole body was nearly convulsing as I stuck the keys into the ignition. I cranked the engine and then turned to him. “Which way?”

He sneered.
“Just go. I’ll tell you.”

I put the car into drive and eased my foot off the brake. The car began rolling down the deserted lane.

“Faster!” he barked.

I pressed the accelerator, my hands shaking so badly I feared I wouldn’t be able to stay on the road. But
I did as he said. We traveled back down the road Riley and I had come in on.

Inky darkness surrounded us li
ke an army of evil closing in. Only the headlights offered any glimmer of hope. Jones could kill me out here, hide my body, and I’d never be found.

I thought about Riley. Was he okay? What was
Rose doing to him? How were the other women holding up?

My pulse slowed slightly when we reached the road where the farmer who’d given us directions lived. It was a little more populated, at least, and had scattered streetlights to help illuminate the way. Despite that, everything felt eerily still. At this late hour, there was no other movement out here—not even a police car.

Where were they?

Just as I turned down the road, as my hopes of heading back to civilization began to take root, the
car puttered. It sputtered. It lurched.

I knew this car was just going to stop one day. Why now?

Jones showed me the knife again, as if a reminder that if I didn’t choose wisely, my prize would be a stab wound in a sick version of Wheel of Misfortune. “What’s wrong with this piece of rust?”

“It’s old,” I muttered.

“Keep going. Faster.”

I pressed down on the accelerator.
My heart slammed into my ribcage, each beat jarring my adrenaline into action. I had to start thinking and fast. “Why are you doing this?”

“Someone has to pay.”

“Pay for the way your sister treated you?” I kept my hands on the wheel, my knuckles white, and my limbs shaking like a man on a jackhammer.

“You’re all the same.”
His soulless eyes glared at me. I could feel them.

He wasn’t even
trembling, I realized as I felt the heat emanating from his arm. The realization only made the pit in my stomach grow deeper. “We’re not. I love my brother. He really does eat trash. As unbelievable as it sounds, it’s part of his worldview.”

He snorted and his other hand squeezed the back of my neck.
“All women are liars.”

“What about Rose?”

“A means to an end. I needed help and she was willing. Desperate for my attention, actually.” He chuckled. “Some people just have no common sense. She should know better than to trust a serial killer.”

“
I know you think all women are liars, but I’m telling the truth.” My voice trembled, making my words lose credibility. “I haven’t lied to you.”

“Shut up and keep going.”

I swallowed hard. The road almost seemed like a tunnel in front of me. All I could see was the illumination from my headlights. Out here was desolate. There was farmland. Glimpses of the Elizabeth River. Massive ditches on the sides of the roads. “What’s going to happen to Riley?”

In the rearview mirror, I saw a smile play across his lips.
“He’ll get what he deserves.”

Just as we turned onto a
nother back road, I spotted the High Rise Bridge ahead. It wasn’t just an every day bridge. No, it was a huge, twin-spanning structure—probably half a mile long—that carried traffic from Interstate 64 across the Elizabeth River.

The river here was wide and deep. The bridge was majestic and high.
If people were allowed to bungee jump from the structure, there would probably be a waiting list every weekend.

We
headed below it, toward a service road that ended with a chain link fence and a flickering light that bathed the area in a sickening shade of yellow. On the other side of the bridge was a factory of some kind and then beyond that a road that led to the Interstate.

The car sputtered again.

Then it stopped.

“Keep going!” Jones ordered.
He slammed a hand on the dashboard.

I tried to start it again. The engine turned over before going dead. “I can’t!”

He growled. Finally, he grabbed my arm and jerked me out of the car. He began pulling me under the bridge. His breaths came out short and quick, the sound causing nausea to roil in my stomach. His fingers dug into my arm so tightly that I almost yelped.

A sound in the distance caught my ear. Sirens
. The police. They were coming. But would they find us in time?

Jones
swerved his head toward the noise. For the first time this evening, I noticed I noticed that his eyes were glazed. Finally, his gaze settled on the fence in the distance. “Climb it.”

I
was so jittery that I could hardly hold onto the chain link. But somehow, I got over it and landed with a jarring thud on the cement slab below. Jones was right behind me, close enough that I could still hear his breathing, still smell the vapor of the swamp that had saturated his clothes and hair.

A staircase stretched i
n front of us. It was metal, narrow, and steep, zigzagging up—my gaze traveled to the top—probably eight stories.

Jones nudged me.
“Go.”

I started up the
first step, my knees weaker than spaghetti noodles. Condensation had formed on the platforms and caused my feet to slip, despite the safety grooves. But with the knife at my back, I kept going.

I ignored the slits
between the steps that were filled with nothing but air. I couldn’t glance down. Each time I did, a wave of dizziness made my head spin. I forced one leg in front of the other and gulped in deep breaths.

I knew where this
maze of stairways led.

They
led to the catwalk that ran along side the High Rise Bridge. I’d seen repair crews use it to get to the bridge tender’s office located in the middle of the span. It was barely anything to walk on, only a thin piece of metal that separated you from a horrifying drop into the watery grave below.

With each step, my breathing became
shallower. Jones kept a good pace behind me, that knife always close to my flesh. Finally, I reached the top.

The catwalk stretched before
me, looking more like a gangplank at the moment. I made the mistake of looking down. The water was so far below that all I could see was a huge mass of black.

Falling off this bridge would be like falling into an
endless abyss. Was that Jones’ plan? To throw me off this bridge to my death? I’d almost rather take a bullet.

“Keep going,” Jones ordered.

I took my first step onto the stretch of metal.
One foot in front of the other
, I told myself. Eyes straight ahead.

The bridge was massively high so
that huge Navy vessels and barges could come and go. I didn’t normally have a fear of heights, but looking down now, anxiety clutched my chest. Cars zoomed past us on the Interstate, separated only by a cement divider. Certainly the drivers were clueless.

I briefly cons
idered hurdling the divider, but I knew I’d only end up as road kill.

I
didn’t know how this was going to play out, but I couldn’t see it ending well. At least maybe the women would get away.

Sacrifice
. Isn’t that what I’d been thinking about lately? Of course, the sacrifices I’d been thinking about lately seemed petty in comparison to the sacrifice of life. I’d been thinking about giving up my dream career for my dream guy. I had to face it: Either way, I would win with those choices.

But right now, my only comfort
concerning sacrificing my life was the fact Jones had me, which might mean everyone else would live.

For a
moment, I remembered Jesus and His sacrifice on the cross. I wondered if He’d experienced a moment of the fear I felt now. I wondered if He had any second thoughts. I wondered if He’d wished someone could take His place.

My heart cried out for H
im. It cried out with love. With understanding. With pleading that He’d intercede right now.

Against my better judgment,
I looked back and saw the flashing of blue and red lights below. The police. They were here!

“Go faster!” Jones
told me. The knife pressed harder.

A flash of lightheadedness hit me again
when I looked at the open space beside me, a flimsy railing the only thing that separated me from falling to my death into the black water below. The wind picked up and swept over the bridge unhindered. I prayed it wasn’t strong enough to push me right over the edge.

We finally reached the peak of the bridge’s arch. Jones pushed me until my head hovered over the railing.
Only black air waited below. No one would survive a fall off this bridge. It was too high. The impact from the water would be too great.

“Would you like to go for a swim?”
Jones’ twisted humor seemed to return because he chuckled as if he enjoyed this too much.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” I muttered.
Famous last words, right?

“No one ever thought I would get this far. Don’t underestimate me.
Everyone else did. My sister. My wife. My own daughter even.”

I pulled back so my body weight wouldn’t propel me over the edge. Jones and I faced off. He knew there was
nowhere I could go without risking falling into the water below.

“I’ve been underestimated my entire life
,” I started. “I understand.” Here I was, trying to find common ground with a serial killer. But still, I spoke the truth. I hoped he could see that in my gaze. It might not make any difference . . . but maybe it would.

“You don’t know anything,” Jones muttered.

Behind him, I saw two cops creeping down the catwalk, coming from the bridge tender’s office. I kept talking, hoping to distract him. My hands gripped the railing, and I licked my lips. “Why are you treating me like your sister treated you?”

“She was a horrible person. I’m not horrible.”
His eyes were so wide that I could see the whites ringing his pupils. It only made him look crazier.