Authors: Brandon Massey
Twisted Tales (2 page)
Stacy, thankfully, didn’t stop to converse. She said only “hello.” I gave him the same brief greeting. But as I held open the door for her, I looked at him. He watched me, of course, a warning in his savage eyes.
You try anything with my little girl, and you’ll wish you’d never met her.
You can’t scare me away, I thought. I’m not quitting until I learn the truth.
Mr. Payne didn’t say a word, but he held my gaze. Held my gaze as he raised a bloody chunk of meat to his long, sharp teeth.
At the theater, on Stacy’s insistence, we took seats on the far left side, against the wall. We wouldn’t have a great view of the screen. But we would have a great opportunity to get closer to each other. The feature film was a romantic comedy, and though I didn’t plan on paying much attention to the story, I went to get popcorn for us.
Mr. Payne was in the lobby. He stood at the box office, buying a ticket.
This man was relentless. I understood what he had meant when, before we had left the house, he’d said to me,
I’ll be watching you
. He was literally going to tail us all night.
I’ll be watching you
. He was literally going to tail us all night.
He was messing up everything. I’d thought that I could gradually insinuate myself into Stacy’s life—and, by extension, his life—and pick up all the clues I needed to complete my investigation. But Mr. Payne wasn’t letting me take that path. He was committed to driving me away before I resolved anything.
I dashed back to Stacy. The theater had darkened; a preview of an upcoming film flashed on the screen.
“Where’s the popcorn?” Stacy asked.
“I didn’t get any. Your dad’s here. I saw him buying a ticket.”
“Oh, no.” She covered her face with her hands.
“If he comes in for this movie, we’re going to leave and see something else,” I said. “I couldn’t stand having him in here.”
“Daddy has never gotten on my nerves this badly. I think he knows there’s something special between us. He’s scared of what it might lead to.”
I frowned. “And what might it lead to?”
“Later,” she said. “I’ll explain later. Please trust me.”
“Why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind?”
But she had raised a finger to her lips. She motioned behind us.
I turned. I saw a tall, hulking silhouette in the doorway at the back of the theater. There were two aisles, and we were near the left one; slowly, the figure marched down the right aisle, head swiveling back and forth, looking for either a seat—or for us.
“That’s him?” I asked in a whisper.
“I think so.”
I grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s go see something else.”
Masked by darkness, we slipped out of there. I did not look back to see if Mr. Payne saw us leave. I had the bizarre notion that if I glanced in his direction, he would be watching me. Like a creature of the night, he seemed to have heightened, almost extraordinary senses.
We entered the theater at the end of the hallway. It was a horror flick, and it was dark inside. Lucky timing for us; the opening credits had just begun.
We found seats in the same area as before. Far left corner, against the wall. Stacy took the seat near the wall, and I sat beside her. I put my arm around her. She snuggled closer.
“I forgot to ask you,” I said, “do you like horror movies?”
“I love them,” she said. “Especially monster movies. This is one of those, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, something about a werewolf.” I recalled the lurid poster beside the theater entrance.
She grinned. “Ooooohh, that’s perfect. I only hope it’s realistic.”
I was about to ask how a film about a werewolf could possibly be realistic, but then she kissed my lips—no,
tasted
my lips, and I didn’t care about asking her questions. I didn’t even care about her father. I cared only about being with her.
tasted
my lips, and I didn’t care about asking her questions. I didn’t even care about her father. I cared only about being with her.
She laid her head on my shoulder. I stroked her lustrous hair.
Maybe we were falling in love. The idea worried me. How could I resolve my case if I was in love with her? Love would make it difficult, if not impossible, to carry out my assigned task.
Rather than mull over the situation, I immersed myself in the movie. It was a gory show about a pack of werewolves tearing through a quiet Illinois town. The acting was terrible, the dialogue was stilted, and the plotting was choppy, but it nonetheless got a huge response from the audience, especially Stacy. Every time a werewolf ripped out someone’s throat, she whooped, and she sighed with something approaching ecstasy at every drop of spilled blood. I got the weird feeling that she rooted for the werewolves to prevail over the humans.
But I didn’t complain. We explored each other’s bodies quite a bit during the show. At several points, we became so entangled that I wasn’t sure whose limbs were whose. We might never have done any of that if she hadn’t been so engaged by the film. Not only was I curious to see if this new level of intimacy would loosen her tongue on family matters, I also, I admit, looked forward to becoming better acquainted with her body.
As the closing credits rolled down the screen, the theater lights brightened. Hands entwined, we stood. I led the way to the crowded aisle ... and then I glimpsed a familiar shape in the corner of my eye. I spun.
It was Mr. Payne. He stood two rows behind us. He glared hatefully at me. I realized, with despair, that he had witnessed every kiss, every forbidden touch that I had shared with his precious daughter.
Mr. Payne pointed a long finger at me. “You!”
I shrank back. People around us looked, curious and alarmed.
Stacy gripped my hand. “Daddy, you shouldn’t have followed us!”
“I’m only looking out for your best interests, sweetheart,” he said. His eyes burned into me. “I should kill you.”
“Will you relax?” I said. “We just watched a movie!”
“Bullshit. I saw you. You were all over her!”
The crowd snickered. Humiliation flushed my face. I hated that he had chosen this place to cause a scene.
Mr. Payne charged toward us. The crowd fled out of his path like antelope fleeing a lion. Indecision, disbelief, and fear had rooted me in place. I stood there holding Stacy’s hand, while fury seethed in her father’s eyes. His hands clenched and unclenched, as if in eagerness to crack my neck.
Spurred to move, I pulled Stacy backward. As though she weighed no more than a Barbie doll, Mr. Payne grabbed Stacy by the arm and yanked her toward him. She cried out, her hand slipping out of mine. Using one huge arm to cradle his daughter against him, he thrust his other arm toward me.
“Stay away from my little girl!” He shoved me. I flew backward, tripped on something, and hit the floor.
I lay sprawled in the aisle, gazing at the ceiling.
Clearly, agreeing to this assignment had been a mistake. Mr. Payne was too volatile for me to get close enough to him to learn the truth. The safe, slow-moving course of action sanctioned by my superiors was not going to work. If I was to succeed in my mission, I’d have to break protocol.
I was more certain than ever that Mr. Payne was a killer. With his tendency toward violence and his fiery temper, I could believe that he had slaughtered several men, as the rumors indicated. All in the service of protecting his lovely daughter.
By the time I got out of the theater, Mr. Payne was screeching out of the parking lot in a black jeep. Stacy was mashed against the rear windshield, crying out my name.
I raced to my car. I was about to jam the key in the ignition, when I noticed the front of my shirt, in the area of my chest where Mr. Payne had pushed.
A couple of buttons had been torn off. Dark blood—my blood—stained the cotton. The blood had clotted and the small wound didn’t hurt. In fact, I hadn’t noticed the injury until now, maybe due to my dazed shock. But I thought of Mr. Payne’s long, sharp nails. Nails like claws.
Mr. Payne had left me no choice. I opened the glove compartment.
Inside, a revolver awaited me.
It was already loaded. With silver bullets.
When I arrived at Stacy’s house, she answered the door. She ushered me inside.
“I’m so glad you came,” she said. “I’m sorry about what happened.”
“Your father went nuts,” I said. “Is he here?”
“He’s out running.”
“Running? At this hour?”
“He does it all the time,” she said. “I usually go with him, especially when there’s a beautiful full moon, like there is tonight. But I was mad at him for what he did to you, so I stayed in.”
“When will he be back?”
“Later.” She smiled seductively. “Relax, Nathan. We have plenty of time to pick up where we left off.”
She led me to the sofa. She sat on my lap, put her arms around my neck, and leaned toward me. I put my finger on her lips.
“Not now,” I said. “We have to talk.”
“What’s wrong?”
I was going to put everything on the table. “Do you remember Daryl Williams?”
She suddenly drew back. Anxiety lit up her eyes.
“Who is he?” she asked, her quavering voice betraying the fact that she knew who I was talking about.
“You dated him three months ago,” I said. “You went out with him a few times, until your father apparently decided that he didn’t like him. Someone discovered Daryl’s body in a forest. His corpse had been mauled, like a pack of wolves had attacked him.”
I drew the crime-scene photograph out of my jacket pocket and held it in front of her face. She gasped. She climbed off my lap, her hand covering her mouth.
“Nathan,” she said. “I’m sorry. I ... I don’t know what to say.”
I whipped out another grisly photo.
“How about David Taylor, a guy you dated last year? Remember him? Yeah, this rotted corpse with its neck chewed in half doesn’t resemble him at all, but I think you know who I’m talking about. Your father hated him, too.”
Tears shimmered in her large eyes. She hugged herself.
“Where did you get those pictures from?” she asked shakily.
“Doesn’t matter.” I didn’t enjoy forcing her face into this dirt, but it was necessary to stop these games. “We know what’s been going on.”
“I’m so sorry.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Daddy can’t control himself. He gets crazy when he doesn’t like the guys that I date—”
“Don’t make excuses for him. Your dad is a blood-crazed killer. He’s only using his desire to protect you as an excuse to indulge in these wild killings. He has to be stopped.”
“What do you mean, stopped? Are you a cop?”
“I am a cop, but not the kind of cop that you might think.”
“What do you—”
A howl pierced the night, silencing her. I did not know exactly where the howl had come from, but I knew
what
it had come from—and I knew it was not far away.
what
it had come from—and I knew it was not far away.
I gripped Stacy’s shoulder. “If you like me as much as I like you, you’ll tell me everything. No more secrets, Stacy.”
Her eyes were wary. “But he’s coming, Nathan. Do you have any idea what he’ll do if he finds you here?”
“I’ll take the risk. I have to know the whole story.”
She slumped on the couch. Stared at her lap.
I pulled over a chair, sat in front of her.
“I’m waiting,” I said. I was trying like hell to convince her that I wasn’t afraid.
She said, “Eight years ago, on a family vacation in Arizona, my mother was killed.”
She paused and looked at me, as though checking to see whether I believed her. I said nothing, only nodded.
She continued. “My dad and I found her body. It was torn to pieces. Before we could even think about what to do, my father and I were attacked, too. But we weren’t killed. We were bitten and turned into ... Well, you know what we became, don’t you, Nathan?”
“Yes,” I said.
“What happened to my mom scarred both me and my father pretty deeply, but my father’s pain is more obvious. He became obsessed with protecting me, with making sure that I never ended up like my mom. Pretty foolish for him to worry about that, considering the abilities I have, but in his mind I’m just Daddy’s little girl, like I’ve always been.”
“Go on,” I said.
“He’s as obsessed with protecting me as he is with making sure that I hook up with the right guy. I mean, the right guy, whoever he turns out to be, will have to become one of us. He’ll have to become part of the family, in every way. That’s why he’s been giving you so much hell, Nathan. He doesn’t think you’re right for me, and he’s trying to scare you off.”
“Without resorting to killing me, I presume,” I said.
She winced. “Daryl and David were sweet guys,” she said. “But they were much more aggressive than you are. Daddy didn’t like that at all. He tried to make them leave me alone, but the harder he tried, the pushier they became. Daddy had finally had enough. So he ...”
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