Connection, page 11
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” he muttered.
Julie was terrified to make a move or a sound, not wanting to attract his attention. She knew Pam had to be thinking the same thing as they made eye contact for a brief moment. Neither could bring themselves to look over at Roxie.
****
Fear... Couldn’t breathe! Shaking, couldn’t look, didn’t look...
Hot tears ran down Remmy’s cheeks in her sleep, which was fitful at best. She tossed, crying out in a loud whimper, her legs scissoring in the sheets.
“No,” she hissed. “Let go...”
Heart pounding...couldn’t breathe! Couldn’t breathe! No! Can’t die!
The image was fuzzy, only colors delineating between objects. A naked form, arms out to the sides. Someone dark, in dark clothing stood before her...
Remmy gasped.
Can’t breathe! Hands on the form, squeezing, squeezing, gasping... Can’t breathe!
Remmy shot up with a cry, eyes wide and tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh god,” she gasped, hands raising to her throat. “Oh god.” She was panting, chest heaving as she sucked in precious air. She felt cold and very afraid.
Shoving off the bed, Remmy ran into the bathroom, barely managing to throw the toilet lid up before losing her dinner. Stomach empty, Remmy slid down to the floor, back against the cold porcelain of the tub. She was breathing heavily, running a trembling hand through her hair.
****
Sergio looked down at the body that lay on the floor of his garage. The woman’s skin was pale, except for a deep bruise on the flesh of her throat. He leaned back against his large, red toolbox, unsure of what to do. He noted with mild curiosity that the woman had a tattoo on her hip, which had become distorted and stretched from the spreading of her hips due to childbirth.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed away from his toolbox, opening the drawers at random, looking for something, anything that would make his job easier. With grim satisfaction, he found it, running a finger over the jagged teeth of the blade. Setting the saw down, Sergio looked through another drawer. Finding a box of dust masks, he grabbed one with fingers that shook slightly. Slipping the cord over his head, he slid the mask into place, pinching the thin, metal bar so it hugged the bridge of his nose.
Sergio’s work was grim, but he knew it had to be done. Exhausted, he just wanted to curl up with someone for the night. That would have to wait. He had no idea the strength it would take to perform the grisly task, but he was glad he had it in abundance. It took longer than three hours, and by the time he was finished, he was working solely on adrenaline. Scouring his garage and workshop area, he realized he didn’t have the final ingredient he would need. He’d have to get that tomorrow. For the time being, he wrapped each section of the body in newspaper, then carefully stowed all of them in a fifty-gallon drum he dragged from the backyard, which he usually stored his trash in. It would do for now.
Brushing a bloody hand across his forehead to dislodge sweaty bangs, Sergio grimaced. He needed a shower. Clicking off the garage light and heading inside, he locked the house up for the night then stripped on his way to his bedroom, careful of what he touched. He hated a mess.
The water was hot against his skin, making him groan with pleasure as the tension eased from his aching back. It had been a long night. He washed his hair three times and scrubbed his hands with a brush, sure to get underneath his fingernails. His skin felt fresh and new as he stepped out of the stall, grabbing a towel from the rack on the door and drying his hair, then his body.
The clock on his nightstand told him the sun would be rising in less than two hours. It was a good thing he was off the next day. Looking at his large bed, Sergio frowned—it was too big, too empty. Making a quick decision, he threw on some sweats and a pair of sneakers and headed toward the kitchen…and the basement stairs beyond.
It didn’t take him long to decide whose company he wanted, and it took him even less time to subdue her with a dosed cloth over her mouth and nose. Julie didn’t make a sound as her body was unshackled and she was carried out of the confines of her prison.
Once upstairs, Sergio made sure she was properly bound, then slipped out of his sweats and shoes, and into bed, pulling the covers up over their naked bodies as he rested his still-wet head on her shoulder. He was soon asleep, oblivious to the silent tears that fell onto the pillow.
Chapter Fifteen
Remmy was almost frantic. She lay on her bed, taking so many deep breaths that she was on the verge of hyperventilating. “Come on, Julie. Talk to me,” she whispered, reaching out with her mind. She could feel herself—her mind—moving through time and space, emotional fingers reaching out, trying to grasp onto something, anything. But they found only cold. Stillness. Blackness. She couldn’t tell whether the sensations were emanating from Julie or rising from her own fear. “Fuck!” she yelled after two hours of frustrating effort.
****
Grace started, not sure what had woken her, then she realized her cell phone was warbling “Achey Breaky Heart”. She grabbed it off the nightstand and flipped it open. She sat up in bed, ignoring her husband’s grumbles behind her.
“Detective Cowan,” She listened to the hysterical voice on the other end. “Wait, wait, Remmy, wait. What? Dead?”
Twenty minutes later Grace was pulling up to the store where Remmy worked. The young woman was pacing back and forth in the parking lot, huddled in her oversized jacket and sipping a cup of coffee. Grace pulled to a stop, barely out of her car before Remmy reached her. She was shocked by the ghostly pallor of Remmy’s normally radiant face, her eyes a vibrant blue from crying. The rising sun shone in them, making them look almost scary.
“Hey,” Grace said softly, gently gripping Remmy’s shoulder. “What’s up?” She was truly concerned at seeing the normally confident—albeit strange—woman fall apart. Grace took the steaming cup from Remmy’s trembling hand, placed it on the roof of her car then turned back to the girl, enfolding her in a motherly embrace.
“I think she’s dead, Grace,” Remmy sobbed, holding on for dear life. She had never felt such grief or loss. After a moment she collected herself, pulling away from Grace, feeling stupid. She gave her a sheepish, watery smile. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“Are you okay?”
Remmy brought a hand up to wipe at her face. “Yeah. Just hit me really hard.”
“Come on. Let’s go in out of the cold and sit down.”
Remmy dumbly followed Grace inside the store. They slid into one of the hard, wooden booths on either side of the scarred table in a small section of the store near the bathrooms and pay phone. Remmy placed her coffee on the veneer top, raising an eyebrow in offer.
“I’ll get my own. You want a warm up?” At Remmy’s nod, Grace snatched the cup, and quickly got them both a caffeine fix. Once again sitting across from the younger woman, she waited expectantly.
Remmy swallowed hard, deciding where to start. The fear and cold had not left her. In fact, if the situation hadn’t been so serious, she would have considered her journey to the store to be quite amusing. She had felt as if she was stuck in a Cloak & Dagger story, checking around every corner before turning it, walking dead center of the street so no one could jump out and surprise or grab her. When she finally made it, she stayed within the light pool from the store while she waited. Her relief at seeing Grace pull up was unparalleled.
“I had what I thought would be just a basic, garden variety vision, which came in the form of a dream,” she said, her voice low. She managed to hide the tremble. “I had connected with her, but then…” Remmy looked down at her shaking hands, which betrayed her calm. “Then it got dark.”
“Dark?” Grace asked, almost holding her breath at a feeling of impending doom.
Remmy looked up at the detective with shining eyes. “Someone was killed tonight, Grace. I’m so afraid it was Julie.”
Grace’s heart skipped a beat. Setting aside her formal training and cop instincts for Remmy the psychic, she’d had her doubts about the woman, and what she said. But in that moment, looking into the most sincere gaze she had ever encountered, she knew for certain that Remmy was telling her the God’s truth. “What happened?”
Remmy shook her head, sipping nervously from her cup. “I’m not sure. I think she was strangled. But someone is definitely dead. Given the brutality of what I saw, I’d be looking for a body, Grace. This guy is capable of anything.”
“Where did it happen? What did he use?”
“I think he used his bare hands. As for where, I think it was in the basement thingy, where he’s keeping them.”
Grace sighed, frustration making her short of temper. “We need to know something specific, Remmy. I can’t go get this motherfucker if I don’t have something concrete! I can’t go to every damn house all over the state and knock, asking nicely if they happen to have a ‘basement thingy’ with possibly three women chained up in it.”
Remmy’s own eyes lit with a fire from within. “Yeah? Imagine it from my point of view. I’m no damn Clarice Starling, either! I wanna catch this guy as bad as you do.”
Regretting her outburst, Grace sighed. “I’m sorry, Remmy, you’re right.”
****
Julie had lain in numb silence for what felt like hours. Her brain had shut itself off, her emotions frozen by the image that kept replaying itself again and again in her mind’s eye. She kept breathing, occasionally blinking, purely out of her body’s natural instinct to do so. She couldn’t get the image of Roxie’s face out of her mind, eyes open wide as she struggled for breath, her face darkening as she slowly sank into unconsciousness, then finally death. She’d never forget the sight, the murder right before her eyes. She was stunned by his brutality and violence during the murder. He had never shown that side of himself; even Pam had been stunned and terrified.
That same man was cuddled up peacefully beside her. She studied his back, noting the broadness and a few freckles that were sprinkled across his shoulders and upper back. His dark hair spiked in various directions from going to bed with it wet. The bed shifted and Julie’s body bounced slightly as he turned over, facing her. She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, to meet the gaze of the demon. She wasn’t sure what she would see if she did, nor did she have the presence of mind to care.
****
Sergio studied the profile of the woman in his bed. She was the most beautiful of his prizes, with delicate features, a wonderful body, and vibrant, green eyes. He wished she would look at him with those eyes. Since she would not, he would make it so. He was the master, the man of the house. With two fingers on her jaw, he turned her head so she was looking at him. Yes, the vibrant color was there, but she wasn’t.
He released her face, and she turned it toward the ceiling. He shifted into the position in which they had gone to sleep. He could smell her skin; it wasn’t pleasant. She needed a shower. But he just wanted to lie there, indulging in the feel of her skin, the heat of her presence.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said, his voice barely audible.
Julie didn’t respond.
“I’m not dangerous.” Sergio lifted his head, looking down into her face. “What’s your name?”
The woman swallowed, and her eyes closed for a moment before she whispered, “Julie.”
“Julie.” Sergio tasted the name on his tongue, deciding he liked it. “Julie,” he said again, resting his head back on the pillow. “I like that name. It sounds very...” He struggled for the word. “…innocent.” He smiled, liking the image. “Like a schoolgirl.” He slowly pushed down the sheet that covered Julie’s naked breasts. With a soft sigh, he smiled. The same fingers he had used to end one life now traced delicate patterns around the rounded underside of one breast. He loved breasts, loved how women had them and men didn’t. So beautiful. So mysterious. Much like a woman’s heart. His hand slid to her arm. He liked this woman, her beauty, her silence. The firm muscle underneath the soft skin excited him. He wanted her.
Cold dread entering her heart, Julie squeezed her eyes shut. She felt as if she was in bed with a loaded gun, a madman’s finger on the trigger. Just as quickly as Sergio’s touch found her skin, it was gone. She was relieved when her bonds were removed and she was pulled up to a sitting position. It took all her energy just to hold her head up. She was exhausted, half-starved, and desperately in need of water.
“I’ve gotcha,” Sergio said softly, helping Julie to her feet. She had no choice but to lean against him. In the bathroom, Julie was set on the toilet. She had little in her, so had little peeing to do, though, to her disgust, dismay, and even relief, she did hear a couple of blood clots plop into the water. Sergio never left her side, patiently waiting for her to finish, arms crossed over his bare chest, shoulder resting against the bathroom doorway. Julie didn’t look up at him, studying her own bare feet, noting the dark bruises around her ankles from the ever-present shackles.
When she was finished, she was humiliated as her captor wiped her clean then flushed the toilet. She was led to the tub, the water turned on and adjusted. To her horror, Sergio stepped in with her. She flinched as he rested large hands on her shoulders. He reached around her to grab the shampoo from the shower caddy, which pressed his body against hers. She endured him washing her hair, dreading the moment when he would move his ablutions to her body, which wouldn’t be long in coming. He looked as though he was enjoying the feel of her flesh beneath his fingers, his tender washing strokes frequently turning into caresses.
****
Though exhausted, Remmy kept searching through the stacks of the Woodland library. She already had a pile of books on the table she had staked out. Deciding that the Spiritual section wasn’t going to have anything she was looking for, she moved on to the History section, a passion of hers since she was a child.
Now seated, she was surrounded by books, cheek resting in her palm as she read about the fall of the Ottoman Empire. A soft whisper distracted her.
Her eyebrows drew together as she raised her gaze from the words on the page to scan the tables around her. She saw a small group of school-aged girls dutifully doing homework, but it didn’t look like any of them had said anything. Turning her attention back to her book, Remmy shook her head and continued to read.
Remmy.
Remmy shoved her chair back, hopped up, and looked around her. A few nearby patrons glanced at her with mild curiosity before returning their attention to whatever they were doing. Remmy’s heart was pounding, fear and confusion painting a thin glaze of sweat on her brow.
Remmy...
Realizing it was coming from within, Remmy sank heavily onto her chair, heart racing. Seeing that she was being stared at by the girls two tables away, she quickly gathered her books into a neat stack and hurried to a study room, closing the door behind her. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes, a sharp pain beginning to flare up dead center of her forehead.
White tile, the individual squares blurred together, the reflected light from a light source a splotch of brilliant white. Bottles of some sort...a showerhead. Hundreds of tiny diamonds falling from it, warm on chilled skin.
Remmy almost couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she quickly shoved her books aside, making room for her to rest her head down as she sat in one of the chairs. She closed her eyes, trying to relax herself.
Fear. Uncomfortable. Cold tile on hot palms. Hot pain. A word. The letter ‘R’. Can’t say the word. Forty-one stones.
****
Forced to bend over as she kept her head from slamming into the wall by bracing with her hands on the wall, Julie gasped and squeezed her eyes shut—no lube, and she wasn’t relaxed. The pain was hot, searing, and beyond uncomfortable.
Closing her eyes, she tried to release her mind, send it flying off.
****
Remmy squirmed on the chair, her legs clamping together, the need to curl up into a fetal position so tempting. She focused, and brought the field into sight, the sky the bluest blue she had ever seen. The water from the previous time, calm and refreshing. All that was missing was Julie.
****
As Julie braced herself against the thrusts from behind her, she felt herself being beckoned away, her mind flying freely, wandering above treetops and the roofs of neighborhood houses. Gently falling snow frosted the landscape. She flew through the sweet smell of burning logs, the smoke spiraling out of the brick chimneys.
Am I dying?
Finally the houses gave way to an open field, the snowy winter magically turning into spring.
****
Remmy walked to the water’s edge, amazed to feel the cool breeze coming off the water, chilling her skin. She was alone, but desperately hoped Julie would hear her pleas and come to her.
****
Suddenly the pain and discomfort began to recede, leaving only a sense of peace and a happiness that was right on the tip of her brain—especially as the field came into focus.
Julie’s feet touched the ground, and suddenly she could smell the flowers and the lush trees that surrounded the lake, where she could see the silhouette of a woman standing, waiting. She smiled, knowing instinctively it was her savior.
Remmy.
****
Remmy felt a presence behind her and, with bated breath, turned. Julie stood not five feet away.
****
Julie was enveloped in a strong, reassuring embrace. She rested her cheek against a soft shoulder, her body relaxing, not feeling, not thinking. The wonderfully gentle hand on her back stroked in slow circles. She felt herself melting into the hug, not wanting to let go.
