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Ashley stayed crunched in a fetal position in the darkness, desperately wanting to move. Her arms and legs felt cramped and her neck ached. She longed to breathe through her mouth again. Her heightened fear and the lack of stimulus that followed numbed her until she drifted into unconsciousness.
The sound of footsteps brought her awake. Her heart thumped faster, reaching its peak when a key slid into the trunk lock followed by the click and whoosh of its opening. Cool air hit her.
Night time, she thought.
Pain shot through her shoulder when a hand grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her up.
“On your feet,” Stephens growled.
She stiffened and a slap stung the side of her face. “I’ll gut you right here little sister. Quit fucking around and get up.” Stephens pulled her from the trunk, half dragging her as she fought to stand on quivering legs. “C’mon, move.” He pulled her by the elbow.
She stumbled along a hard surface until they reached some steps. Her knees buckled on the third one.
“Don’t quit on me now, cupcake.”
They went through a door, down a hall and through a second door where Stephens pushed, sending her sprawling backward onto a bed. “Don’t move.”
This isn't the way I'm meant to die, she thought, struggling to keep panic from eclipsing reason. Not like this. She listened to opening and closing doors, then felt his weight on the bed beside her. Hot breath whispered in her ear as he tied her hands to the bedposts. “I had a lot of fun with that little girl, but she didn’t last very long.” He grabbed Ashley’s thigh and squeezed to the point of pain. “You should last longer.”
This isn't happening, she thought, smelling the sweat of her fear mingling with the stink of the mattress. “We found her in a ditch alongside I-8 East of El Cajon,” Mossbarger said in her mind. She envisioned his angry face and the fire in his small dark eyes. She curled into a ball until Stephen’s hand snaked between her legs.
“No!” she screamed through cloth and tape. “No. God. Please no.” Lightning stung the side of her face, rocking her head from a bone jarring slap. Stephens laughed and pulled her legs toward the foot of the bed. He tied her feet spread–eagled, then he put his hand to the side of her head, grabbed the edge of the tape and ripped it from her eyes.
Her skin burned and her vision blurred. Tears tickled the sides of her face, then wet warmth spread from her emptying bladder. They'll find me like this, she thought. Pissed pants. Men staring at me. Her eyes focused, bringing the image of Justin Stephens swimming into perspective, watching her from a wooden chair in the corner beside a darkened window. His cherubic face looked impassive, his blue eyes devoid of emotion. His mouth held a tiny smile.
“I really am a scientist,” he said, “but I have an appetite that I can’t satisfy.” He rose and approached the bed again. Ashley drew a long shuddering breath through her nose. Her stomach churned. If she vomited now she’d choke.
Stephens stopped beside her. “Christine was too young. She couldn’t appreciate the love of a man.” He dropped onto the bed, grabbed Ashley’s belt and loosened it. She squirmed at his touch until the tip of his finger pressed so hard on the end of her nose that her eyes watered. “Sit still!”
His hands moved over her and his moist breath oozed hot and sour on her face. He ripped the rest of the tape from her mouth and pulled the cloth from it. She barely caught a breath before he forced his tongue between her lips, making her gag.
Please let me die before he violates me, she pleaded silently. His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing and hurting. How she wished she could hurt him. Rage filled her and she struggled. Stephens laughed louder. To her horror she realized that her squirming excited him more.
He slid his hand over her stomach, undid the top button of her jeans and inched the zipper down. Ashley stiffened when he trailed the tip of a knife across her stomach.
No. Please don't cut me. Shhhh. Stay quiet. Lie still. Don't excite him. It will only hurt for a few minutes. Be brave. Muddled images of Chris Daniels played like a slide show in her mind’s eye. Puncture marks. Eyes slashed, arms and legs severed, genitals and face mutilated. The cold knife blade slid up her inner thigh. She sucked air deep into her lungs.
Oh God please...
It moved up the other thigh.
Shhhhhhh. Stay quiet. Don't excite him. She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. Stephens grabbed her jaw and turned her head to him. "Open your eyes,” he whispered.
Summoning her strength, Ashley glared at him in defiance. I'm not dying like a coward, she thought in disgust.
He put the knife along the side of Ashley’s nose and ran the blade down her neck, then he pushed her head back, letting the knife linger at her throat.
Do it now you bastard.
He unbuttoned her blouse. The knife moved down to her left breast, cold against her nipple.
“Ahhh," he groaned.
Bile rose from her stomach. Stephens pulled the knife away, leaving Ashley breathing deep, shuddering breaths.
“You’re going to be a hell of a ride,” Stephens said in a husky voice. He pulled his shirt up, kicked off his shoes, and had his pants halfway down his thighs when his head exploded in a shower of red that spattered Ashley with hot stickiness, then Stephens dropped like a punctured balloon.
She screamed her throat raw while doors slammed and footsteps came from everywhere. Two SWAT team cops in black uniforms and bulletproof vests burst into the room, guns pointed. Mossbarger came in close behind, gun drawn.
They lowered their guns when they saw what was left of Stephens twitching on the floor. Mossbarger came to Ashley’s side, untying her arms and legs. More cops filled the room. Mossbarger pulled the covers from the bed and wrapped Ashley while the others huddled around Stephens. All she could see were his shaking feet. Mossbarger put a protective arm around her and hustled her out of the room.
“How did you find me?” she whispered.
“Your locket,” he said, pointing. “Remember?”
“What took you so long?”
“We had to wait for a clean shot.” He nodded toward the front door. “Pull the blanket tight. It’s going to be a circus out there. I’ll hurry you to a car and we’ll get you out of here.” She lowered her head while Mossbarger guided her out the door.
Colored lights flashed everywhere. Squad cars, motorcycles, and police vans littered the street. Yellow crime scene tape had been strung across caution signs. Uniformed cops held back a crowd. Scott came running up the steps, tears streaming from his haunted eyes. “You all right?” he said, pulling her to him.
She put her head on his shoulder, letting her own tears flow while he and Mossbarger led her to a car.
Halfway there she saw bright white lights bouncing toward her. “Shit,” Mossbarger muttered. Her legs gave. Scott held her up.
A blur of red, yellow, and blue police car flashers painted the background while brighter whites punctuated the foreground, then the steady glare of halogens burned everything else away. Minicams and microphones closed in followed by a woman’s voice. “What happened?”
Ashley’s throat went dry. Thankfully, Mossbarger held up his hand, taking control. “Miss Butler risked her life to help catch a killer,” he said. “She doesn’t need any more stress. Back off and let us through.” He waved them aside.
“Who’s Miss Butler?” Ashley heard a reporter say as Scott and Mossbarger helped her into the car.
