Random in Death, page 30
“Uh, yeah. Actually pretty mag.” She’d quickened her pace, obviously hoping to shake him off. Now, as the drug began its work, she slowed. “Um, you?”
“Absolutely! I’ve had a simply glorious summer, and it’s only going to get better. Let’s go this way.”
“What?”
“This way.”
She shrank back at first when he put his arm around her, then turned as he did.
“We’re going to take a ride. You like rides, don’t you, Delaney?”
“I like rides. I’m going to ride with my friends.”
“I’m your friend now.”
“I feel funny.”
He slid his hand up from her waist, toward her breast. “You feel marvelous. You’re excited to be with me.”
At the tunnel, he got on line with her. Only about a dozen ahead of them, and that was fine. It gave him more time to prep her.
“We’re going to get on this ride. It’s what you want.” He slid his hand over the curve of her ass. His heart pounded; his mouth went dry. “Like you want me to touch you. Say it, Delaney. Say, ‘Francis, touch me.’”
“Francis, touch me.”
“That’s right.” He put his mouth to her ear, and the scent of her nearly turned his knees to liquid. “When we get inside, in the dark, I’ll touch you. You’ll come with me, into the dark, and let me touch you wherever I want. We’ll have intercourse. You want that. You want to have sex with me. Whisper that, in my ear.”
She put her mouth to his ear. Compliant. “I want to have sex with you.”
Then she looked around, her eyes glazed, confused. “I—I’m meeting my friends.”
“No. I’m what you want, bitch, and don’t forget it.”
He kept her tight against him, and his head down as they held out their wrists for the scanner.
He nudged her into the car first, then sat close.
He’d chosen this ride for several reasons. The dark, the screams, the length—eight full minutes—and the small platform behind a wall of fake bones and severed heads.
In exactly two minutes after the ride began, he needed to get her out, behind the wall, on the platform, with its emergency exit just waiting for his escape when he’d finished with her.
The ride began with a shuddering descent. And the dark.
“Put your hand on my penis. Rub it. Rub it, whore.”
He shoved up her top, yanked at her bra so he could, at last, at last, feel the female breast.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“It hurts. You’re hurting me.”
“That’s what you want. Say it. Say, ‘Hurt me, Francis.’”
He didn’t see the tears leaking out of her eyes. “Hurt me, Francis.”
The screams began, and the crazed laughter, the groans and howls and moans.
* * *
Eve took one look at the Tunnel of Terror, and thought: Yes.
The dark, the size of the cars, the screams that echoed up.
She pushed her way to the attendant.
“This boy. Has he gotten on, with a girl?”
“Lady, I’m doing a job here.”
She shoved her badge in his face. “So am I. Look at him. Have you seen him, with a girl?”
“The doof in the trench with the iced little chick? All over her.” He shook his head. “Can’t see why she’s with a doof. They’re on now.”
“How long ago?”
“I dunno. Few minutes. A couple.”
“Hit the lights. Stop the ride.” While the attendant gaped, she tapped her earbud. “Tunnel of Terror. He’s on it. He’s got the girl. Move! I said hit the damn lights, now.”
“But—”
Before Roarke could speak, she grabbed the attendant by the shirt. “Lights, now, or I charge you with accessory to rape and attempted murder.”
“Holy shit, I’m just doing a job.”
He hit the lights and the brakes for the ride. Shouts of protest rose up.
Eve saw the steep, narrow platform beside the tracks, and started down.
“Cover the exits to this ride. Emergency exits. Call for MTs. He gave her something to get her on. Francis Bryce,” she shouted, and swatted at whatever dangled from the ceiling. “This is the police. You’re surrounded. Move away from the girl.”
If they were too late to stop the rape, please God, let her be alive.
“There’s a platform coming up on the left,” Roarke told her. “Behind the wall of doom. First emergency exit.”
* * *
He’d had to practically lift her out of the car, but excitement gave him strength. She didn’t struggle, but went limp. And there were tears in her voice.
“It’s dark. I can’t see.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He took the penlight out of his pocket. It wouldn’t do to step wrong.
“Move your whore ass!”
Filled with power, he shoved her onto the platform. Pulsing with power, he fell on her, then tore at her top.
“I want you to put my penis in your mouth, but we only have six minutes, so we’ll just have intercourse.”
He pushed her down. “No, that’s not what they say, the ones you lie down for. We’re going to fuck. I’m going to fuck you. Say it. Say: ‘Fuck me, Francis. Fuck me hard.’”
“I—I don’t want to.”
He slapped her, first with the palm of his hand, then with the back. And that felt marvelous.
“But you will. Scream. I want you to scream while I take what you wouldn’t give me. You won’t fight me, you can’t, but you can scream.”
When she did, he went so hard he wondered he didn’t implode.
Pushing up, he started unbuttoning the baggies. “Now say what I told you.”
She choked out a sob.
And lights filled the tunnel.
Stunned, he dropped to his knees, slapped a hand over her mouth. “Shut up. Don’t make a sound. If you do, I’ll kill you.”
Her eyes, so big and tawny, stared at him. His penis was so hard it hurt.
Just a glitch, he thought. A stupid glitch. It would go dark any second, and then.
“Francis Bryce, this is the police!”
Disbelief flooded him. His ears rang, and his breath began to hitch.
He fumbled in the trench for the second syringe, but he could hear them coming, closer. Closer.
As he had at the theater, he panicked. Throwing his body at the emergency exit, he ran.
* * *
Eve heard the weeping, soft and desolate under the shouted objections and catcalls of riders. And the shrill of the alarm on the emergency door.
She stepped over, skirted the wall.
Alive. One injection mark, so she should stay that way.
“You’re okay. We’re the police. Roarke, take the girl.”
“He’s got that second syringe. You bloody well mind my cop.”
Then she was gone, out the door.
Roarke knelt down to the girl, who trembled and wept. “There now, darling, you’re safe.”
“Kill me if I make a sound,” she whispered.
“He won’t hurt you again. There’s a promise.”
Since he’d left his jacket behind and her shirt was in tatters, he took off his own. “Let’s put this on now, all right? What’s your name?”
“Del.”
“There you are, Del. Can you walk?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, never mind that,” he said, and lifted her into his arms.
As he carried her out, she pressed her face to his shoulder and wept.
* * *
Her team hadn’t converged on the exits before Eve shoved out.
But she saw Francis—the trench, the hair—heading toward the giant Ferris wheel in a limping run.
Hoping the girl had managed to kick him in the balls, she sprinted after.
“In pursuit. Suspect’s running northeast from the tunnel ride to the Ferris wheel. Never mind. I’ve got him.”
She supposed it rated as anti-climactic how easily she caught him after such a frustrating hunt. But she tackled him on the fairway, and actually heard him say, “Oof!” as he went down.
He kicked, humped his body, squirmed while people crowded around.
“Get back. Police. Move back!”
She started to reach for restraints, then pulled her stunner instead.
With one hand, she pressed it to the side of his neck. The other, she clamped on his wrist. He struggled to turn the syringe in his hand, the needle shining sharp in the festive lights.
“Drop it, you little bastard, or you’ll get a jolt you won’t forget.”
“I wasn’t finished!” But his fingers uncurled.
“Trust me, you’re done.”
“Sorry we weren’t closer, LT.”
She glanced up as she pulled Francis’s hands behind his back.
“Don’t touch that.” She nodded toward the syringe. “I need to check if he’s got a safety in his pocket somewhere.”
“We had a bet going,” Santiago told her. “If someone else spotted him, called for backup, who’d get there first.”
She just stared at them as she clipped on the restraints.
“Had to call it a tie.”
“Yeah.” Carmichael confirmed it. “It was … Well, oh, my, my.”
While Francis started to blubber, Eve looked back to where a bare-chested Roarke carried the girl wrapped in his shirt.
“Don’t piss me off, Detective.”
“Just admiring and envying your taste. Sir. Here come the medicals.”
“Good. And here’s the safety.” She handed it to Santiago. “Be careful. The needle’s probably coated, and you don’t want what it’s got. Francis Bryce, you’re under arrest for the murder of Jenna Harbough, a human being, for the murder of Arlie Dillon, a human being. For the attempted murder of Kiki Rosenburg.”
When she hauled him to his feet, he spat at her. “Bitch, you’re all bitches!”
“Wow.” She used the sleeve of her jacket to swipe the spittle from her cheek, and wasn’t the least sorry to see he’d bashed his nose on the fall. It dribbled blood.
And his wig sat crooked now.
“That’s called assaulting an officer, so we’ll add that in. Also the attempted rape, also the use of a date-rape drug, and a whole crapload of other charges we’ll make official when you’re booked.”
The eyes, she thought, even with tears streaming out of them, the eyes were wrong.
Yes, some were just born twisted.
“Meanwhile, you have the right to remain silent.”
“Fuck you, whore!”
“Keep it up.” She tapped her lapel. “Record’s on. You have the right to legal counsel,” she continued, unfazed, and read off the rest of the Revised Miranda.
“I need somebody to transport him to Central while we clean things up here.”
“We got him,” Jenkinson said.
Reineke nodded. “Be a pleasure. Come on, young sir. We’ll escort you to your first cage in what will be a long line of them.”
“I want to go home! You’d better get your hands off me! Do you know who my father is?”
Perp-walking him away, Jenkinson turned and grinned. “Who’s your daddy?”
She would have laughed, but she spotted Roarke walking toward her. He wore a black tee, which would’ve been fine. Except for the park logo of the silly face with its wide, toothy grin.
“Are you kidding me?”
“She didn’t want to let go of the shirt. McNab ran off and got it for me.”
“It would be McNab.”
“Peabody’s with the girl in the ambulance. Delaney Brooke. Del. Whatever he used on her is wearing off.”
“I need to talk to her.” She turned. “Let’s get that ride blocked off. We can use local sweepers to process, and…”
She trailed off at the look from Feeney. “Sorry, you know what to do. I’ll be with the girl.”
As she walked off, Feeney clapped his hands. “All right, boys and girls. Let’s get things done.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Eve walked over to the ambulance. Peabody sat inside with the victim, talking softly. The locals set up a perimeter to keep the crowd away, but three girls stood beside the ambulance in a kind of teary group hug.
Eve signaled to one of the MTs.
“Status?”
“We need to take her in, get a full workup, but she’s stable, and she’s lucid. BP’s still a little high, but she’s coming out of it. We can do a surface scan with the mobile.”
His dark, rawboned face tightened. “He dosed her. Injection site, left biceps. Rohypnol, but other additives we need the lab to identify. She’s got some bruises, but he didn’t rape her. Didn’t get the chance.”
“Give me a few minutes with her.”
“Go ahead. You got him, right? I got a kid her age.”
“We got him.”
When Eve climbed in, Peabody turned back to Del.
“Del, this is Lieutenant Dallas.”
“You were there. The lights came on all of a sudden, then you were there. You went after Francis.”
“That’s right. He’s in custody now.” Pretty brunette, Eve noted, about sixteen, with brown eyes still on the glassy side. “He told you his name?”
“No. Maybe, but I mean he didn’t have to. I know him from school. His hair’s different, but I know him from school.”
“You know him? Did you meet him here?”
“Not on purpose. He’s creepy. Even before this, he’s just creepy.”
Her gaze shifted to the open doors of the ambulance. “Oh!” And reached out a hand.
Roarke climbed in, sat, took it.
“You saved me. He saved me.” Her eyes filled as she leaned into Roarke. “I couldn’t stop him. Francis. He was going to rape me, and I couldn’t stop him. He tore my shirt and squeezed my boobs so hard. He made me put my hand on him, down there. You know. And say things. I couldn’t stop him. It was like watching myself and screaming inside, but doing whatever he said even though I didn’t want to.”
She dropped her head. “He said like come with me, and I did.”
“Del, none of this is your fault. None of it. He dosed you, used a date-rape drug on you. This is not your fault.”
She stared at Peabody. “You’re sure?”
“Abso-poso,” Peabody said, and got a smile.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Eve brought Del’s attention back to her. “As much as you remember.”
“I can remember it all because it’s like I said. Like I was standing and watching him and me. I was walking toward the Cyclone. That’s where my friends were waiting, and I felt this pinch or sting in my arm. Then Francis was right there, beside me, waving a hand. He said I’d had a bee on me.”
She went through it, with more detail than Eve could have hoped for. As she did, Del gripped Roarke’s hand with her left, clutched his shirt around her with her right.
“You caught him. I heard them say you caught him.”
“We caught him. We’ll need to talk with you again,” Eve told her.
“They said I needed to go to the hospital even though I feel mostly all right now. My parents are coming. But my friends…”
“The three girls outside? If you want, we can arrange transportation for them, to the hospital.”
“Really? That would be mag. He … he won’t come back to school, will he?”
“No.”
“You’ve got my card, Del, if you just need to talk. If your parents have any questions, they can contact me or Lieutenant Dallas. I’m going to go take care of getting that transpo.”
“Thanks, Detective Peabody. Thank you for catching him,” she said to Eve. “I knew he could be mean. I could see it in the way he looked at me, or other girls, sometimes. But I didn’t know he could do this.”
She leaned into Roarke. “Thank you for saving me.”
“It was my very great pleasure.” When Roarke kissed her hand, Del’s eyes went from a little glassy to very dreamy.
* * *
By the time she got back to Central, Eve didn’t expect to see Jenkinson and Reineke.
But there they were, playing cards at Jenkinson’s desk.
“You’re off duty,” she told them.
“Got that. It’s why I’m crushing Reineke at gin.”
“Had a lucky streak. Mine’s coming due.”
“Prisoner secured?”
“Oh yeah.” Jenkinson tipped back in his chair. “Took his one call on the way in. To his father. Cried like a man-baby.”
“All trembly with it,” Reineke added.
“Terrible mistake, police roughed him up, under arrest. He had the call on mute so we couldn’t hear what the father had to say, but he’s on his way. Kid got all smirky after the call. His father’s coming, and he’ll fix our asses good.”
“Golly. Now I’m all trembly.”
Jenkinson snorted out a laugh at Eve. “Getting the best lawyer money can buy. We’re all going to pay, but the bitch who bloodied his nose—that would be you, boss.”
“Yes, I am that bitch.”
“She’s going to pay more. He lost some of that … would you call it bravado, partner?”
“I would. Bravado.”
“He lost that during booking, and when we closed the cage door. Juvie section, considering, but that won’t be where he ends up.”
“No, it won’t. Good work. Now somebody get Roarke a shirt without a face on it. Then go home. I’ll write this up and wait for the father.”
“You ain’t obliged to wait, Dallas. Past midnight now,” Jenkinson pointed out. “His old man can wait until morning.”
“Yeah, but I want a sense of things there before we take on the kid tomorrow.”
Plus, she had her second—or maybe it was third—wind, she thought as she walked into her office. And straight to coffee.
She sat and started her report, one that would fill in the details and expand on her brief update to her commander.
Suspect in custody. Victim alive and stable.
She’d made headway when Roarke walked in wearing a gray T-shirt with NYPSD across the chest.
“And this is better?”
