No Escape, page 2
As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, the killer flicked what he liked to call “the switch” in his mind.
It was a knack he had developed from childhood. He could step into a mode of thinking where unwanted emotion could be kept at bay. This time, he was imprisoning his excitement. He knew that excitement could lead to mistakes. Above all else, he prided himself on his intelligence, and using that to override his emotions was key to his ongoing success as a predator.
He stood in the darkness and curbed the sound of his excited breathing. His prey, Joshua, was about to face his end, and the killer would deliver it with delight.
Tonight, justice would be served.
He moved through a storage room filled with boxes of clothes and shoes. He could see the dim yellow light coming from a door at the end of a long hallway. As he made his way toward it, he heard the sound of typing coming from inside. He quickened his steps, eager to meet his nemesis face-to-face.
As he approached the door, he paused for a moment and steadied himself, preparing for what might come next. With one deep breath, he pushed open the door and stepped into what would be Joshua’s last moments on Earth.
The door opened with a subtle creak. There, in a small office, was Joshua, huddled over a computer screen with his back to the door, typing away.
Writing another novel, the killer thought.
Joshua had been a published writer in his twenties with two successful books. Now, in his forties, he hadn’t had a manuscript accepted for twenty years. But he had never given up the attempt to reclaim his glory days.
So proud of yourself, Josh, the killer smirked to himself from the corner of the room. But he detested the man. He detested that his cousin was so captivated by the computer screen and the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the keys.
The man had no idea Death had entered the room.
The killer had thought about his method several times. He had thought about how he would do it. But each time, it was different. That was what he liked about it. He could savor each kill, because they were oh so different.
This time, he felt the knife in his pocket. He ran his fingers over the cold metal—but decided he was going to use his hands. He almost laughed out loud as he slipped on a pair of surgical gloves.
He still hasn’t noticed, the killer thought. HE deserves to die.
The killer stepped forward slowly and Joshua continued typing away, blissfully unaware of his impending doom. The click and clack of the keyboard began to irritate the killer.
The sound had to stop.
Joshua had to stop.
Just as he reached forward, the killer stepped on a floorboard that creaked. Joshua finally turned around and looked up at him, terror and surprise etched across his face in equal measure.
The fear in his eyes was unmistakable and palpable.
The terror of those moments before death was what the killer liked the most. It was intoxicating and filled him with a sense of power. He could see it in Joshua’s face—he knew his time had come to an end. He knew he was about to die.
“No!” Joshua yelled. “Please!”
But the killer sprang forward, wrapping his fingers around Joshua’s neck.
“How does it feel, Josh?!” the killer screamed, panting as he squeezed the air from Joshua’s throat.
“I can’t breathe!” Joshua gasped, clawing at the killer’s hands and trying to pry them off of him. His eyes bulged in terror as he struggled to break free.
But this only fueled the killer’s rage further. He held on tight, determined to make Joshua suffer.
Joshua reached up and grabbed a hold of his keyboard, smashing it against the killer’s head with one final burst of energy and adrenaline. The force was enough to cause the killer to loosen his grip and stagger backwards.
The world looked hazy for a moment, and the killer felt a warm trickle of blood dripping down the side of his face. Through the haze, he saw Joshua rushing toward the doorway.
He couldn’t let him go. Not when revenge was so close.
The killer threw himself forward, knocking Joshua into the side of the solid door frame. Joshua let out a gasp, and this time, the killer would make no mistake about it.
He reached into his pocket, grabbed the knife, and then stabbed downward toward Joshua’s throat with all his might.
But something rushed through the air at equal speed to meet his thrust.
It was a hand. A woman’s hand.
It blocked his wrist and then tried to grab for the knife, but the killer threw a punch that landed square on the woman’s face.
She let out a gasp and fell back for a second. But she was relentless. She came at the killer again, this time wrapping her arms around his waist and yanking him back onto the floor.
They both fell to the ground with a crash. The knife slipped from the killer’s grasp and slid along the wooden floor, and pain ricocheted along his body from his already broken ribs.
The killer then saw Joshua in the dim light, sitting half conscious, his body propped up against the doorway. He knew this was his last chance.
The killer reached out, grabbed the knife, and then staggered to his feet. He rushed at Joshua, but the woman on the floor next to him kicked out her leg, tripping the killer.
He fell forward, and the woman grabbed the back of his head and clattered it against the doorway next to a now wide-eyed and petrified Joshua.
Just as the killer began to lose consciousness, he felt handcuffs being placed on his wrists. He looked up and saw, in the gloom, the face of the woman, lit by a solitary shard of light.
He recognized her immediately as his nemesis. The one who had been on his tail for months. She was bloodied. She was bruised. But she was unmistakable.
She was Agent Valerie Law.
CHAPTER ONE
Valerie shook her head.
She still couldn’t believe that it had all come to this.
She was sitting by a table next to a large bay window, her fingers drumming nervously on the polished wooden surface. The view of early summer stretched out before her on the other side of the glass, the sun casting warm, golden hues on the meticulously maintained gardens.
The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze offered a sense of serenity, but the last two months of unease refused to abate. It had been the darkest time she had ever known.
In that time, she had cut herself off from those around her, steeling herself against the emotional connections in her life. It was the only way she felt she could survive.
Now, she was taking the first tentative steps toward letting those connections back in again. The only question was: Would her dearest friends and family forgive her?
Valerie looked up as footsteps approached from a nearby doorway. The steps were strong and forceful and might otherwise have caused apprehension, but she had heard them before, just not there in that place.
A tall, familiar figure then entered the room, lit by the glow of the sun. His posture radiated confidence and strength, but beneath the handsome exterior, the man’s brown eyes carried with them a deep fissure of pain and hurt.
It was Tom, Valerie’s fiancé. He smiled gently from the doorway. Valerie noticed the nervousness in this. It was a smile that was plastered on. Not one that had come easy.
Valerie felt tears fighting to come through, but she did everything she could to avoid them. She had fought so hard to become more stable, and despite this emotional reunion, she feared that all that good work could so easily be undone.
Tom walked over to her with a concerned expression on his face, taking a seat at the table. The sunlight streaming in from the window highlighted the worry lines on his brow. To Valerie, he somehow looked a little older now.
Silence hung heavy between them, as if the words they needed to say were weighed down by the gravity of their situation. The last time Valerie had seen Tom was months before in the comfort of her apartment. He had walked out after Valerie was weighed down yet again by another case, chasing another killer at the expense of her personal relationships.
He had walked out to clear his mind. But Valerie had hidden a terrible secret from him. The secret that she had feared the most. She was slipping into a deeply painful psychosis, teetering on the brink. She’d finally fallen over the edge when she heard her mother confess to a terrible deed under hypnosis.
She had killed Valerie’s father.
Finally, Tom broke the silence. “Valerie, why haven’t you let me see you? It’s been three months, for God’s sake. I’ve been worried sick.”
Valerie hesitated, her eyes cast downward as she searched for the courage to tell him the truth. She had always been a strong woman, but the events of the past month had shaken her to her core.
“I… I had a nervous breakdown, Tom,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. I didn’t want you to see me out of control. I thought you might run away. That fear has been tearing at me for the last two years, never mind the last three months.”
Tom’s face softened, and he reached out to take her hand. The warmth of his touch was both comforting and reassuring. Valerie felt a shiver run through her as she finally looked into his eyes.
“I wish you would have told me,” Tom said gently. “I could have been there for you, Val. You don’t have to face these things alone.”
Valerie’s eyes welled up with tears, and she blinked them back, trying to maintain her composure. “I know, Tom. I just… I felt like I was losing control, and I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”
Tom squeezed her hand, his eyes full of understanding and love. “Valerie, it’ll take time. But I… I’m here now.”
Valerie was uncertain whether he meant it. The words were kind, but there was a deep hesitation in the way he said them. She was sure he was conflicted, and he wasn’t the only one.
He smiled, his kind eyes staring into hers with compassion.
Valerie felt a surge of gratitude for the man sitting before her, and she couldn’t help but smile through her tears. But, even as she appreciated his understanding, a pang of conflict stirred within her. The uncertainty of building a life with Tom while her mental illness threatened to consume her left her feeling anxious and hesitant. As they sat there, hand in hand, she tried to muster the courage to face whatever challenges lay ahead, but she still felt the unending precariousness of her future pressing down on her.
“Tom, there’s something else you should know,” Valerie said, her voice trembling slightly. “I was only recently moved here to Shady Pines. Will Cooper and Dr. Robertson pulled some strings so that I could be in the same facility as my sister. They thought it would be good for me. Better than being in the same place my mother was.”
Tom’s eyebrows furrowed as he absorbed the information. “You’ve been at Barlow Psychiatric Hospital this whole time?”
Valerie nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination. “Yes, it was awful, but I asked to stay there so I could keep talking to my mother. Dr. Robertson obliged, more than I thought he ever would, to be honest. There… There are things I’ve kept from you, Tom. For the longest time I’ve wanted to tell you them, but I need you to be patient. It’s about my family, about me, about the person I’ve always been. It will take time, but I hope you’ll be patient. I know I have no right to ask that…”
Tom leaned back in his chair, trying to process the weight of Valerie’s revelation. “That’s a lot to take in, Val. But I just want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Even if we didn’t work out, I would still be your friend. Always.”
That stung. She knew now that he was contemplating not being with her. No matter how understandable, she felt on more precarious ground than when he had first entered the room.
Valerie looked into his eyes, her own brimming with vulnerability. “I appreciate that, Tom, more than you know. But I also need you to understand that things might not be easy. I don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped or obligated to stay with me if my mental health continues to be a struggle.”
Tom reached for her hand again, his grip firm and reassuring. “Valerie, I love you. And when I asked you to marry me, I meant it for better or worse. Your mental health doesn’t change that. We’ll face this together.”
As much as Valerie wanted to believe him, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of her doubts, and his, pressing down on her. Only time would tell if their love could withstand the challenges that lay ahead.
“Maybe when I get out of here,” she said, “we can go to the restaurant where we got engaged and—”
Valerie suddenly stopped mid-sentence, her attention caught by a loud laugh from outside. The sound sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt her heart rate quicken. There was something terribly familiar about that laugh.
She stood up and moved toward the bay window, her eyes scanning the picturesque grounds of Shady Pines Retreat. As she peered out, she saw two men in black suits escorting someone in handcuffs through the front door of the facility. The sunlight streaming through the trees made it difficult to see the man’s face clearly, but as the trio drew closer, a chilling realization struck her.
Valerie’s blood ran cold, and she felt the dread coiling in her stomach. It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t. The last time she had seen him free, he had tried to kill a man named Joshua, his own cousin. Valerie had managed to save the victim, but she never forgot the case. It was one of the most brutal she had ever seen. One year later and the thought of him still turned her stomach, clawed at her nerves.
“Valerie?” Tom asked, concern etching his face as he approached her by the window. “What’s wrong?”
Valerie turned to face him, her eyes wide with shock and fear. She barely managed to speak, her voice almost a whisper. “Tom… I don’t believe it… A killer I arrested in one of my cases… he’s just been brought into Shady Pines.”
The gravity of the situation hung heavily between them, the implications of the killer’s presence in the same facility as Valerie only beginning to sink in. The quiet peace of the afternoon shattered, leaving them both to confront the terrifying unknown that now lurked within the walls.
CHAPTER TWO
Valerie’s heart throbbed in her chest as she rushed through the peaceful corridors of Shady Pines Psychiatric Retreat, her mind racing with fear and adrenaline. Tom hurried after her, trying to keep up with her frantic pace.
“Valerie, wait!” Tom called out, but she paid him no heed. She had to do something; she couldn’t just sit idly by while that killer was brought into the same facility as her.
It wasn’t the place for someone so dangerous. It wasn’t high security enough. Shady Pines could not provide the type of safety or treatment such a violent personality required. There was no doubt in Valerie’s mind that the killer would look for the first opportunity to murder someone, perhaps even her or her sister. Vengeance seemed to be his thing, and he had plenty of reasons to want revenge against Valerie herself. She was the one who caught him.
As Valerie reached the door of an office, a receptionist stopped her. “Ma’am, please calm down,” the receptionist said, her voice soothing and measured.
“I need to speak with the director of the retreat, immediately!” Valerie demanded, her voice full of verve and panic.
The receptionist frowned. “You should speak with your case worker first to make an appointment.”
But Valerie wasn’t in the mood for procedure. She banged her fist on the door, determination burning in her eyes. The door swung open, revealing a man in his fifties with a gray mustache and a sparkle in his eye. He was Quincy Jensen, the director of Shady Pines Psychiatric Retreat.
“Come in,” he said, stepping aside to let Valerie and Tom into his office.
Valerie wasted no time, her voice shaking as she spoke. “I just saw two men in black suits—”
Quincy raised a hand to interrupt her. “Please, Agent Law, take a deep breath and start from the beginning.”
Valerie inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself. “I saw two men in black suits escorting someone in handcuffs into the facility,” she explained, her voice still laced with urgency. “I recognized the man they were escorting. Tall and powerful. Unmistakable. He’s a killer I arrested in one of my cases. He has no business being here. He is a violent psychopath who needs the correct environment for treatment. Shady Pines is mostly for non-criminal patients and has minimal security. It’s only a matter of time before he hurts someone. He should be in a maximum security facility. You have to do something!”
Quincy’s eyes narrowed, concern flickering across his face. He glanced at Tom, who nodded in agreement, and then turned back to Valerie.
“Valerie,” Quincy began, his voice measured, “I am aware of the situation. The patient you’re concerned about has been placed here at Shady Pines Retreat via a court order. It’s out of my hands.”
Valerie’s eyes widened, disbelief written across her face. “How is it possible that a killer could be brought to a place like this, where patients are supposed to get treatment?” she demanded, her voice trembling with anger. “Do you know his history? Do you know he killed several of his own family, stalking them like animals and murdering them in cold blood? Someone like that is too dangerous for a place like Shady Pines. It’s unbelievable that anyone would think this is appropriate, never mind safe!”
Quincy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The patient in question, John Murphy, is a psychiatric prisoner. He was granted an insanity plea and has been helping the authorities with some other inquiries. In return, he’s been brought to Shady Pines Retreat as a reward for his cooperation.”
Valerie’s anger only intensified. “Bureaucratic nonsense! That man is a violent killer with an IQ of 158!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with incredulity. “He’s a master manipulator who can bend people to his will. He’s ex–Special Forces, too, and managed to execute three police officers during his last killing spree with his bare hands. And you’re allowing him to stay here among vulnerable patients?”
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