Billy stared at the floor. “She wasn’t always this way. Once she was just a girl, but then he took her.” A stark pause. “No, he made me take her. Got me to lure her away . . .”
She stepped closer to him and the chain dragged on the floor. Billy had tucked the gun in the waistband of his jeans. “You mean Jonathan Bright?”
“He was a bastard. A sick, sadistic killer, and I enjoyed watching him slowly die. He had no clue—no fucking clue—that I was putting drops of poison in his drink. But what choice did I have? I couldn’t let him keep taking kids. Hurting them. That was what he did. He got us kids. If we did exactly what he wanted, he let us live, but one screwup”—he shook his head—“and we had to drink the black water.”
The black water.
Poison.
“I was careful. Not too much, not enough that he could taste it. I drank it myself to make sure, just sips for me. And I waited and waited . . . and the day he finally didn’t come back, I knew we were safe. He was dead.”
“You killed your first monster.”
Billy looked up and smiled at her, as if pleased. “I did.”
“Why didn’t you go to the cops then? Go back to your families?”
His smile dimmed. “Cathy was my family.”
“You—”
“He made me hurt them, Ana.”
Goose bumps rose on her arms.
“He made me . . . poison them. Even got Cathy to do it. See, he never killed the kids right away. He hurt his victims. Kept them. Made them suffer.”
“Wh-why didn’t he kill you?”
His breath whispered out. “Because I did just what he wanted. I was his bait. I went to the other kids, got them to walk away with me. Walk away so that he could grab them and then . . . when we were at his cabin . . . he . . .” His words trailed away.
Ana waited, knowing how very important this was. She needed to hear his story so that she could understand him.
“He said I could never go home again because I’d killed. The first time I did it, I—I didn’t even know, I swear!” His eyes blazed. “I thought I was giving Jenny something to drink. She’d been bad, tried to get away, and he’d punished her.” Billy swallowed. “He beat her with his belt for hours, and she was on the floor, crying. When he told me to give her the drink, I thought I was helping her. Then he started to laugh . . .”
“And Jenny died,” Ana said, her heart twisting.
“The black drink. I knew what it was then. And he made me use it on the others. He made me do it.”
But he’s not here any longer. You don’t have to hurt anyone now.
“I never disobeyed. I always followed the rules.” His voice was flat. “And because of that, they all died.”
“Cathy didn’t die. You saved her. You—”
“I didn’t do it soon enough.” Sadly, he shook his head. “You just saw her, Ana.” His voice roughened. “He’d already broken her by then. And Cathy—he liked to get her to do things. Bad things. Not just give the others the drink. He made her punish them.”
The bastard had kept those kids alive for that long?
For an instant, sadness flashed on his face. “I think she still likes those bad things, despite all I’ve done.”
“Her mother is still looking for her.”
“I know. I watch her mom, from time to time. I knew when she went to LOST.” He gave her a quick smile. “That was how I found you.”
Ana shivered.
“Found you.” A furrow appeared between his brows. “And Bernie. Checked you out, learned his story and knew that he couldn’t just stay in prison. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t the end for him.”
He killed Bernie because of me? Ana tried to keep her breathing nice and easy as she schooled her expression. “Cathy’s mom,” she said deliberately, trying to steer the conversation back to her. “If you keep tabs on her, then you want to help her. Let’s give that woman her daughter back. Let’s—”
But he was shaking his head. “The daughter she lost is long gone. Cathy can’t live in a normal world any longer, don’t you see that?”
“You tried to get her help,” Ana said, the words tumbling out. “You sent her to River View—”
“It wasn’t for help. It was so she could kill Forrest Hutchins.”
Cathy killed him?
“I told you. She likes bad things now. After Jonathan was gone. I had two choices. I could have gone to the cops. They would have thrown me in jail—”
“No, you were a child! A victim!”
“I was a killer.”
That’s what you are now. You weren’t then. But if he’d been a boy at the time, he might not have understood that. He would have known only fear. Pain. Desperation. And desperation could drive a person to dangerous extremes.
“My other choice was . . . I could try to help Cathy. I could try to fix the things that he’d done to her. That I’d done by tempting her to walk with me that day.”
“You never let her go.”
He stiffened. “What would have happened to her without me? I protected her! She wanted to hurt herself! To hurt other people! She was sweet and kind the day I met her on that walk.” His words came faster. “Four months with Jonathan changed that. Four months broke her. She was asking him to take another girl. She was asking to help hurt that girl. I had to stop Jonathan before he did that. I had to stop—”
“Cathy.”
Silence. She wondered if she’d pushed too far.
When he spoke again, his words were wooden. “I had to find a way for her to . . . to follow her urges but not become a monster.”
OhmyGod. “She was the one who shot Cash.”
“I knew she was getting the—the urge again.”
The urge to kill?
“I could tell by the way she was talking. So I thought . . . if I gave her a target, it would calm her down.” His lips thinned. “And get him out of the way.”
Out of the way. “I-is he dead?”
He looked away.
Cash is okay. Cash is safe. Cash is coming.
Billy paced, but didn’t come closer to Ana. “She killed Bernie, too. He didn’t think a pretty girl like her could be dangerous. She was his type, you know? He liked to hurt the pretty girls.”
Pinpricks of heat filled Ana’s cheeks. “Bernie had all of those pictures of me. One was a sketch of me in my jacket—someone had been watching me . . . reporting to Bernie.”
“I—I’m sorry, Ana. I did that. Like I said, I found out about Bernie by researching you. When I first contacted him, I had to prove that I would be a good partner for him—” He glanced quickly at her. “It was a lie, of course. I would never be his partner. I would never hurt someone like you.”
“Like me . . . ?”
“You want to stop them, too. You want to help people. That’s what I’m doing. You see that, right? I’m stopping the killers.”
Bernie Tate was in jail. He was already stopped.
“I gave Bernie information about you to show that he could trust me. I convinced him that Cathy and I—we wanted to help him. The fool believed everything. When that transport broke down, he ran to us. See, we’d done that. We made it break down. It was all part of the plan. And Bernie came so willingly. It was too easy for Cathy to kill him.”
Cathy kills a lot of people. Ana was getting that truth, and it terrified her.
“I’m stopping monsters.” Billy’s voice held the distinct ring of pride. “And I’m making sure that Cathy . . .” His gaze darted to the closed door. “I’m making sure she doesn’t cross any lines.”
Cross lines? They were way past the line-crossing point. “How many people has she killed?”
He didn’t speak.
Maybe that was the answer—a horrifying one. And Ana knew that the only way out was to break the bond between Billy and Cathy. To drive a wedge between their deadly partnership. “She was going to kill me. That’s why I hit her. She had the gun aimed at me, and she was going to shoot.”
He pulled
the gun from his waistband and stared at it. “After she . . . after we got here, I took the bullets out of the gun.” He focused on Ana. “She wouldn’t have killed you. See, I’m a step ahead. I always have to be.” He turned away. “Get some rest. I’ll bring some lunch in for you soon—”
“What if you’re not a step ahead next time? I don’t want to die.”
His shoulders stiffened.
“I have a brother. Asher. He’s my twin.” Make it personal. Make him see you as a victim. “I want to see my brother.”
But Billy didn’t look back. He opened the door.
“I want to see my brother!” Ana yelled.
The door closed softly and the lock turned.
“I will see my brother,” Ana vowed.
Billy eased out a long deep breath and he schooled his features before he headed into the kitchen. He could hear the sound of a TV blaring. Cathy liked the TV.
She hated silence. Another leftover trait from their time with Jonathan Bright.
He’d lock us in the closet. It would be dark. We couldn’t make a sound. The first to make a sound would be punished.
She had a knife in her hand when he went into the kitchen. Her left hand. Her right was cradled against her body. A melon was in front of her, but she wasn’t cutting the melon. She was staring at the knife. “I saw her scars. So many scars. Made with a knife just like this one.”
Unease slithered through Billy. “What are you watching?” He pointed to the TV but then saw—
“He’s still alive,” Cathy said, sounding sad. Disappointed. “I should have shot him again. If you hadn’t been so determined to get her, I could have finished.”
I wanted Ana. I finally wanted to have something—someone—for me. Because Ana understood.
And, unlike Cathy . . .
She’s not crazy. Yes, he knew Cathy was insane. Another reason why he’d had to keep her close. Her family wouldn’t have been able to take care of her, not the way she was now. They wouldn’t have understood.
They wouldn’t have let her kill. And Cathy liked to kill. She liked to make people bleed.
“Now he’s on the TV,” Cathy murmured, “and he’s saying bad things about us.”
Billy stalked closer to the TV and he turned the volume up. Sure enough, there was Special Agent Cash Knox, filling the screen, saying . . .
“Our two suspects are highly disturbed individuals . . .”
Cathy laughed. “Does that mean he thinks we’re crazy?”
“They are suspected in the abduction of Ana Young . . .”
“He doesn’t look very hurt.” Cathy put her hand on his shoulders as she peered harder at the screen. “I was aiming for his heart. How did I miss?”
Two images flashed on the screen—a shot of him and a shot of Cathy. They were grainy, but clear enough, and he knew they’d come from River View—he could tell, based on the background of the shots. Video security footage. He’d known that was a risk but he’d needed to get her out of that place.
Besides, we’ve both already dyed our hair. Changed the cuts. We look different, just enough to fool most—
“They took Ana Young,” the FBI agent continued, staring straight out of that TV set. “But they made a mistake. I’m the one who should be with them. I’m the monster.”
Cathy dropped the knife. It hit the floor and she clapped. Then she moaned and brought her right wrist close to her body again. Had Ana broken her wrist?
“I will gladly trade myself for Ana,” Cash continued. “All they have to do is call me. Tell me when. Tell me where to be. They want me dead? So be it. But let Ana go.” His eyes glittered. “Let her go. Ana is good. She doesn’t deserve this, and you know it. Take me. I’ve got Ana’s phone. You have her number. Call it—talk to me.”
And, standing just behind Cash . . . Billy saw another man. Tall, with dark hair like Ana. Dark eyes. He’d seen pictures of that man before. Ana’s brother.
Her twin.
The guy’s face was grim and dark.
Billy turned off the TV, hitting the remote with a hard stab of his finger.
“Let’s do it!” Cathy said happily. “I want to finish! Let’s call him!”
“No, Cathy, it’s a setup. We call him and he just brings the whole damn FBI down on us.”
Her lower lip poked out. “But I didn’t finish.”
Sometimes, she was so much like a child. Had her mind frozen when she was thirteen? When Jonathan had hurt her so much? “We stay low. We let the heat die away. That was our plan, remember?” They had this great cabin, on five private acres. No one was close by—no one cared about what they were doing. “We stay low. They aren’t going to find us.” He picked up the knife.
“When are we going to get rid of her?”
His fingers tightened on the handle of the knife.
“We can’t . . . keep her.” Now Cathy was adamant. “We have to get rid of her.”
He spun to face her. “We aren’t killing her!” The words emerged as a shout. The first time he’d shouted at her in—
Cathy started to cry.
Shit. He had to be so careful with her. Always so careful.
“I don’t like her,” Cathy said. She lifted her wrist. “She hurt me, and I want her dead.”
“No. She’s not—”
“I want her dead.” Then Cathy spun away from him and ran for her bedroom.
He stood there, holding the knife. He’d tried so hard with Cathy. Tried so hard to make everything right. To make all of the pain up to her.
But it was his fault. He looked back at the hallway . . . the hallway that led to Ana . . . and, still holding the knife, he headed back to her.
“You sure that was wise?” Asher asked Cash when they backed away from the reporters. “Offering yourself up like that?”
“I want her back.”
“And you’re really ready to trade your life for my sister?”
“I would trade anything for her. I would—”
His phone rang. Not my phone. Ana’s. Cash stilled. So soon? He yanked the phone to his ear. “Cash Knox.”
“I want to kill her.” It was a woman’s voice. Soft. Oddly gentle.
“Don’t.” He nearly shattered the phone in his grip.
“I want her gone. And I also want to finish you. You’re bad. He told me you were bad, so it’s okay for me to kill you.”
“I am bad. You should kill me, not her.”
“I want to kill you both.”
Fuck. “Tell me where you are,” Cash said quickly, “and I’ll come to you.”
“Just you? No one else?”
Cash stared straight at Asher. “Tell me where you are.”
“Can’t do that . . .” Her voice had dropped even more. “But I bet you can come and find me . . .”
The lock turned, the door opened, and when Ana saw the knife in Billy’s hands, she slid back on the bed, moving until her shoulders bumped into the wood of the wall. “Don’t!”
He stopped, frowned, then looked down at the knife. “I’m not here to kill you.”
Could have fooled me. “Then why do you have a knife?”
His lips thinned. “Because I didn’t want to leave it out there with Cathy. She’s not her best right now.”
When the hell is she her best?
“I came to tell you . . .” He exhaled. “Cash is still alive. I just saw him on the news.”
Cash is okay. Cash is safe. Cash is—
“You know what his brother did, don’t you?” Billy asked her.
“I know.”
“Then how can you let him touch you? How can you let him—”
“He isn’t his brother.”
“He killed two men—”
And you killed Jonathan. “Cash killed in order to save people. You and I? We’ve both seen evil up close, haven’t we?”
He didn’t respond.
“Cash isn’t evil.” She paused then said, “He’s the man I love.”
Billy fell back a st
ep. “You . . . can’t.” He lifted the knife and pointed it at her. “You’re not supposed to love him. You were like me!”
No, I wasn’t.
“No. No. You’re confused. It’s the drugs. They’re still in your system.” He turned away. “You’ll be better later. I’ll come back—”
“Why didn’t you kill Dr. Summers?”
He looked back.
“Or rather, why didn’t you let Cathy kill her?”
“Because Dr. Summers hadn’t killed anyone, not directly. I thought there might still be hope for her.”
That was what she’d figured out, but Ana had needed him to say the words. “I think there’s still hope for you, too, Billy. Let me go. Help me and show me that I’m right.”
He shuffled from the room.
And Ana didn’t call out after him.
Billy stayed outside the cabin, running scenarios and plans through his head, over and over again. Shadows slid from the trees that surrounded the cabin. So many trees.
Perfect privacy.
He’d gotten that place years ago. It had actually belonged to another victim. No one had noticed when that fellow disappeared.
Cathy had enjoyed him.
Cathy.
She was outside, too. Walking through the woods. Talking softly to herself. She seemed happy again, and that was good. As long as Cathy was happy, she was controllable.
It wasn’t her fault. Bright had just hurt her too much.
And I watched. The way I watched him hurt all the others. Because Billy had known if he fought back, if he tried to help Cathy, then he’d pay.
The black drink.
He hadn’t wanted to die. So he’d played by the rules. Done what he was supposed to do.
He’d survived.
But now I stop the monsters. Why can’t Ana see how that’s good? I stop them and I help Cathy.
Cathy gave a little laugh and she ran toward him. She had something in her hand. He started to smile.
And then he realized it was a dead bird.
Cathy ran her fingertips over the bird’s still body. “So pretty . . .”
“Cathy . . .” He kept his voice calm. “The bird is dead. Put it down.”
She put it down. “It’s pretty.” She looked up at him. “Ana isn’t pretty. She’s scarred.”