Evil Never Dies

Left to admire her new bedroom on the second floor, she peered out the window, which happened to give her a bird’s-eye view of the neighbors’ backyard. They had a pool with a diving board. Excited at the possibility of new friends, Kathryn watched a little girl and an older boy, who turned out later to be the girl’s brother. The girl pointed to the red rubber ball that had fallen into the pool. They were on the far side, which gave her a clear view. The boy nodded his approval, and Kathryn’s heart raced as she watched the little girl go to retrieve the ball. After she fell in, the boy stood at the edge, watching as her little arms and legs flailed, churning the water’s surface. Finally, her head popped up out of the water, and her fingers grasped the edge of the pool.

Kathryn’s relief was short-lived. She watched in horror as the boy got down on his knees, pried the girl’s tiny fingers off the ledge, and then, with the palm of his hand flat on her head, pushed her under and held her there until her legs no longer kicked and her arms went still.

Frozen in terror, Kathryn had watched, along with the boy, as the little girl sank slowly to the bottom of the pool.

Lizzy sucked in a breath.

Had the woman truly witnessed such a horrific event?

Once again, Lizzy wondered why Kathryn Church wanted to talk to Jared.

And why was she lying about it now?

Lizzy came to her feet. She didn’t look at the clock, didn’t give a rat’s ass what time it was. She was going to pay the woman a visit.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

He stood behind his easel and canvas, paintbrush in hand, palette ready. “Open your eyes, Claire.”

Instead, she screamed at the top of her lungs, a high-pitched noise that pierced his skull.

He clenched his teeth tighter.

After drugging Claire, he’d spent most of the day yesterday setting up the room, screwing in toggle bolts and chains that could easily support a heavy load. Claire weighed approximately 110 pounds. He had to drill holes big enough to accommodate the toggles.

The chains and cuffs seemed to be working nicely. They would hold her in place while he painted. The metal cuffs might cause her some pain, but that was the effect he was going for.

She was naked. Her arms were outstretched, above her head. Same for the legs, spread downward and apart. Despite being drugged, she’d managed to fight him every step of the way. He was exhausted. “Open your eyes. This is the last time I’m going to ask nicely.”

He waited, but she didn’t move a muscle. Her head hung low, her chin resting against her collarbone.

He placed his paintbrush on the table he’d set up to his left. Then he made a tsking noise as he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small plastic bottle, and unscrewed the lid. Calmly, he walked over to her, placed the palm of his hand against her forehead, and firmly pressed her head upward, holding it none too gently against the wall.

She tried to wriggle her head. “Stop it! Let me go! What are you doing?”

“I’m going to use some of this amazing wonder glue to hold your eyelids wide-open.”

“No! No! No! Please. I’ll do what you say!”

“Too late.”

More frantic wriggling.

“If you don’t hold still, you’re going to get glue in your eyes, Claire, and then you’ll be blind. Do you want to be blind?”

“Stop. Please. I’ll do what you want. I promise.”

He growled as he let her go. He put the glue away, his every movement jerky as he pointed at her. “Next time you disobey, there will be no second chance. Understand?”

She nodded.

“I want to hear you say it, Claire. Say it loud enough that I can hear you.”

“I understand. I will not disobey. I swear.”

“Better.”

He went back to his position behind the easel. He picked up his brush, dabbed it in paint, and then set his eyes on Claire’s face. “Give me a crazed look, Claire.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Not angry. I said crazed.”

Her eyes widened. She stuck her tongue out and frantically moved her head from side to side, her tangled hair flying in front of her eyes, her nostrils flaring.

“Wonderful,” he said. “Keep your eyes just like that, but stop thrashing about. Look at me, though, right here into my eyes, and don’t look away until I say so.”

She did as he said. Her eyes were steely glints of raw fear, like the fish in the painting.

He turned up the music as loud as it would go. A full orchestra began to play, starting with the silky keys of a piano, then gradually adding in strings, climbing unhurriedly, and then boom, hitting the emotions with throbbing oboes and powerful brass drums.

The girl was beyond terrified, her soul aching, her every emotion rooted by fear. With each stroke of the brush, he felt as if he were transferring her i

Kathryn Church’s house in Newcastle was set on a quiet road—a one-story on a good-sized lot.

Lizzy knocked on the door and then looked around. Had Jared come to see this woman? Had he walked this same path?

After a while, she knocked again, harder this time.

The porch light came on. “Who is it?”

“You know damn well who it is. I don’t like being hung up on.”

There was no response.

Lizzy calmed herself and said, “It’s Lizzy Gardner. I called you earlier. It’s very important that I talk to you.”

“It’s late. Go away, or I’ll be forced to call the police.”

“People are dying, Ms. Church, and there might be something you can do to stop it.”

No response.

“Jared Shayne was my fiancé,” Lizzy went on. “You talked to him, didn’t you? He was close to identifying a serial killer, a killer who has begun to strike much more often. We need to stop him.”

The door opened. “Come inside,” the woman said, “before you scare the neighbors.”

After Lizzy stepped inside, the woman quickly shut the door behind her, making sure to lock it.

The pictures Lizzy had seen of Kathryn Church on the Internet didn’t do her justice. Even barefoot, she appeared elegant and graceful. Tall and long-limbed, she possessed a heart-shaped face, long neck, and well-defined cheekbones. Her black silky curls brushed against the top of her shoulders.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important,” Lizzy said.

Kathryn’s smirk told Lizzy she wasn’t buying it.

And she was right. Lizzy really didn’t care. She glanced around the house, taking it all in: a baby grand in the living area, antique dining table and chairs, a crystal chandelier. She strained to listen, wondering if anyone else was in the house.

Kathryn gestured for her to follow her into the living area. “Why don’t we have a seat in here?”

Lizzy’s gaze settled on the woman’s blouse and pencil skirt. “Were you going out?”

Kathryn waved the comment away with a hand. “I haven’t bothered to change. Once I get started working in my office, I can’t stop. I do my best work at night, right here at home.”

“You’re a psychologist—is that right?”

She gestured for Lizzy to have a seat across from her. “Yes, that’s correct. I have my own practice. I also teach at the local college. Insomniacs like to keep busy.”

Deciding to cut to the chase, Lizzy looked the woman in the eyes and held her gaze. “You talked to Jared, didn’t you?”

She hesitated but not for long. “Yes. We were to meet first thing Monday after your wedding.”

“Why did you lie?”

“Why do you think? Because I am afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of what might happen if he ever found out that I spoke to you.”