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Needing time and space to put together a plan, I went back to the motel. I drove too fast and had to hold myself back, not wanting to get pulled over and having to explain the presence of the gun. I figured the cops probably had more important things to do right now than traffic violations, but I didn’t want to take the risk.
I reached the motel and parked without bothering to check if I was even between the allocated lines. I threw myself out of the car and let myself in the room, shutting the door behind me. I leaned my back against it and ran both hands over my face, starting from my forehead and dragging down.
The housekeeper still hadn’t been here. The room was in disarray from where Jolie had thrown the lamp and table upon hearing the news that her father had killed again. The bedsheets were rumpled from where Jolie and I had slept together. We’d curled up in each other’s arms and held each other during sleep, when we were both most defenseless, and right then I would have swapped that moment for any of the times we’d had sex. It wasn’t as though I didn’t adore having sex with her, but just being able to hold her—and for her to have let me—meant so much more.
“Fuck!” I snarled, slamming my fists against the door behind me. I stood there, with my hands clenched, my teeth gritted, breathing hard and preventing myself from losing control. I wanted nothing more than to tear through this room and destroy everything I laid my hands on, but it would do no good. My anger wouldn’t help Jolie, and all it would do was draw unwanted attention toward me.
I needed to think straight. Where would Patrick Dorman take her? I was making a huge assumption by believing him to be the one who’d taken her, but I couldn’t believe anyone else would have snatched her.
I pulled out my phone and called my contact.
“I can’t keep talking to you, Vale,” Savino hissed. “You’re going to get me in trouble. I’ve done what you needed.”
“Just one more thing. I need the location of this group of fans you were talking about.”
“Their location? I’m not sure they have one location.”
“Send me each of them then. I want to know everything—their home addresses, if they’re married or single, where they work.”
“Jeez, Vale. That’s a lot of information. I don’t just have that kind of info at my fingertips.”
“Well, get it. This is life or death. I don’t care what it costs. I need it ASAP.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do, but you gotta give me a couple of hours.”
“One hour,” I snapped, already thinking that was too long.
“I’ll do the best I can, Vale. I can’t promise more than that.”
I hung up and stalked the room. If Dorman was still hanging around the city, then he had to have help. Who else would be helping someone like him out other than people who admired him? The cops were already onto his fan club for the same reason. Would Dorman have taken Jolie to them? The idea made me sick, but I couldn’t deny the possibility. If I found them, I might find both Dorman and his daughter.
Should I call the cops and report Jolie’s abduction? I was torn about the right thing to do. I no longer cared that facing the cops would get me arrested—both for what I’d done to Jolie, and for lining things up so her father would escape. It was true that I hated the possibility that a lifetime in prison would mean I’d be separated from her and she’d go on to live her life without me, but all I wanted right now was for her to be safe. Screw the consequences. But what I didn’t want was for her to have gone willingly with her father, only for me to set the cops on her. It would only strengthen their case that she’d been involved with his escape, and then I wouldn’t be the only one spending time behind bars.
It was pointless, but I couldn’t just stand around waiting, so I gathered up the few belongings we’d had with us and stuffed them inside the bag. I didn’t want Jolie to think she didn’t have anything when I got her back. I slung the bag over my shoulder and left the motel room without bothering to lock the door. I didn’t plan on going back there any time soon.
I threw the bag into the back of the car and then climbed behind the wheel. At least if I was driving around the city, I’d feel like I was doing something. I doubted I’d see her walking down the street, but I’d go crazy just sitting around a motel room.
I positioned my phone in the car so I’d be able to see the screen as I drove. The last thing I wanted was to miss an important call or message.
Keeping a close eye on the police helicopters overhead, I drove aimlessly through the city, simply hoping to pick up on some kind of clue about where Dorman could have gone. I checked my phone half a dozen times a minute, impatient and desperate for news. I’d given Savino an hour, but even that felt way too long. Dorman could easily kill Jolie in an hour, and the possibility filled me with an impotent rage and grief. What sort of hell was she going through right now? I’d already put her through so much. She didn’t deserve this.
Was the woman I loved about to die in the same way as my mother had all those years ago? The fury I felt was indescribable. I felt as though I could tear down entire buildings and stomp giant crevasses into the sidewalk. But on the outside I was just a man driving helplessly through a city with nothing but fear in his eyes.
A lifetime seemed to have passed before the phone buzzed again. Not caring where I was, I swung the steering wheel and pulled over. I was rewarded with the blare of numerous car horns around me, but I didn’t give a shit. I yanked on the handbrake and snatched up the phone.
“Talk to me.”
“I’ve got what you asked for.”
“Just tell me.”
“There’s three of them. Lee Franklin, twenty-four years old, mechanic by day, obsessive serial killer researcher by night. William Melleur, thirty-two, runs social media campaigns, including his own personal project which looks to be connected to the dark web.”
I ran a hand over my mouth. “Jesus Christ.”
“And finally, Marty Penn, thirty-seven and a butcher who runs his own chain of stores. He’s been communicating regularly with Patrick Dorman pretty much ever since Dorman was locked up. The two of them have a regular pen-pal thing going, and he’s been in to visit Dorman a number of times.”
My mind boggled. What kind of person struck up a friendship with a man they knew had killed innocent women for pleasure? Was it likely that Dorman turned to them for help once he’d escaped?
“Do you have their addresses?”
“Yeah, I’ll message them to you. I’d go for Marty Penn first—he’s most likely the one Dorman has turned to.”
“Okay, thanks, Savino. If you hear anything else, let me know.”
“Sure. One more thing, Vale.”
“What’s that?”
“The district is going to be onto this pretty soon, too. You don’t have much time.”
“I know.”
I hung up the phone. Fuck. I had done this. I was responsible for letting a monster out onto the streets. Now he’d killed another woman, and he’d taken Jolie. The idea of Jolie being around the men my contact had described made me sick to my stomach. They were men who’d admired and even worshiped Dorman. They thought what he’d done was a good thing, and I could only assume they imagined doing something similar themselves. And now they had Jolie. Would her father try to protect her, or was he so sick in the head that he’d hand her over to those bastards?
If Dorman thought Jolie had tried to trick him because of her involvement with my plan, he might be angry with her and think handing her over to his fan club would be a way of exacting his revenge. Would he really do that? Could any man be sick enough to do something like that to his own flesh and blood?
But sadly—horrifyingly—I knew people did do that, and even worse, to their children. And this was an adult child he hadn’t seen for the last ten years. He might not even think of her as his daughter anymore.
I shuddered with revulsion. I had to find her, there was no question. I didn’t give a shit about putting myself in danger.
All I wanted was for Jolie to be safe.