Deranged Page 17

  A quick look can’t hurt, and I’ll be in and out of there in no time. He’s at work, anyway, and he’ll never know I was there.

  I convinced myself to do it. I wasn’t marching in gung ho with a badge and gun in hand. I’d assume the position just as any solicitor would, drive up to the property, and knock on his door. No harm, no foul, and no good reason not to. I programmed Greg’s address into my phone’s GPS and headed for Moreland Avenue, which I’d take south to Forest. As I passed the credit union, I noticed a cruiser parked in the lot. Hopefully, the detectives would catch a visual of the truck turning onto Sky Haven. If they did, all we’d have to do was confirm that the truck belonged to Greg.

  According to the GPS system, I had only two miles to go once I turned off Forest Parkway. I followed the instructions on my navigation and several minutes later arrived at the mailbox with McMillian written across the side of it. I noticed there weren’t many neighbors along that secluded road, which gave me pause, but with a deep breath, I turned in.

  Chapter 49

  Who does that bitch think she’s fooling? I recognized her right away. She’s the same woman who was with that sergeant at the cemetery.

  Greg flipped through the orders that were placed on Friday. “Here we go. I knew she’d given me her name and phone number in case anything got delayed with her meat order.”

  He walked to the door and turned the suction-cupped cardboard clock to show he’d return at noon. Then he drew the shades and locked the door. In the office at the back of the shop, he woke up his computer and typed her name into the search bar. Dozens of articles about a psychic consultant popped up. They were dated back several years.

  “Where’s the latest stuff?” He scrolled through the posts until he found recent entries. “Now, let’s see who you really are and what you’re up to.” Greg heated a cup of water for two minutes in the microwave at his back then hung a tea bag over the side of the cup. He took his seat again and clicked on the most recent post. “Hmm… it looks like she’s a detective now with the sheriff’s office in some hillbilly town in Wisconsin. So why is she here, and why is she snooping around the Fulton County Butcher case?” He read older posts and learned about Kate’s affiliation with Atlanta and how that was her birthplace. He read the headline news that had gone on for weeks about the Robert Lynch case and how he had almost killed Kate with two deep gashes across her throat.

  Ah… so you’re well acquainted with knives. That’s very good to know.

  Greg remembered her words when she’d placed the meat order that Friday.

  The burgers and hot dogs were for a surprise birthday party for your mom. Thanks for that ace card, Detective, and you can be damned sure I’ll use it if I have to.

  Greg paced his office and wondered how she was piecing everything together. She was getting too close and needed to be stopped. With only a day left to go, he wasn’t about to let her mess up his reunion with Kamila.

  Somehow, somebody saw the truck at the cemetery that night. Why else would Kate Pierce and the sergeant have been snooping around there? That’s telling me she knows the truck is what the butcher drives—or should I say, what I drive. Good thing it’s stashed and I rented the car. Thanks again, Detective, and I have to say, you and the Atlanta police aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed.

  “I have to move Tristan and Kamila to a safer location before they’re discovered. If that detective stopped in here to make sure I was working, chances are she was going to check out the house next. If she’s there, that’ll be her last mistake.”

  Greg turned off the Open sign, set the alarm, and left.

  Chapter 50

  Apprehension overtook me as I turned left just before the mailbox. I glanced at the drawing on the passenger seat and saw a long driveway with woods to either side. I gripped the steering wheel and continued forward.

  If my dream was leading me in the right direction, there would be a single-story house in the middle of the clearing, a shed to its left as I faced it, and a plowed field beyond that. I reached a widened area where the driveway ended, and a house stood directly in front of me.

  “Holy shit, this dream property is real.” I cautiously stepped out of the car and looked around while holding the sheet of paper. Everything matched up to the last detail, and as I moved in closer, I folded the paper and slipped it into my jacket pocket. I called out Janine’s name but heard nothing other than the wildlife in the woods.

  In the distance, a burning barrel caught my eye. I walked toward it, and as I peered over its edge, I saw shredded remnants of a black garbage bag. Scattered across a ten-foot area around the barrel lay what had probably been inside. It appeared that an animal had gotten to the contents before they were burned. I picked up a scrap of the bag and jammed it into my pocket as I checked the trash. Torn tea bags lay everywhere, along with a chewed-up box from some black hair dye. Several feet ahead of me, something unusual caught my eye. It appeared to be a dead animal and possibly what had torn apart the trash. I moved closer and knelt over the object. I flipped it over with a stick and nearly lost my balance as I pulled back. “Son of a bitch!”

  I leaped to my feet and fumbled with my phone as I tried to fish it out of my pocket. The object on the ground was a black-haired human scalp.

  The familiar sound of a car door slamming made me run for cover, and as I peered around the side of the house, I saw the same Honda Fit that had been sitting at the back of the butcher shop. Greg was on to me, and his suspicions had led him home. I cursed my carelessness when I saw him kneel over a folded piece of paper in the driveway. Instinctively, I reached in my jacket pocket and realized the drawing of the property was gone.

  Damn it, how did I drop that?

  It was urgent that I got a call out to the Ellenwood police since it would take Dave and his team far too long to reach me. I looked to my rear and saw the shed. I’d run for it, take cover there while I made the call, then try to make it across the field and into the woods.

  I dialed 911 as I peeked around the corner of the shed. The operator answered, and I whispered my need for help.

  “I can’t hear you, ma’am. You need to speak up.”

  “I’m hiding from the Fulton County Butcher, and if I talk any louder, he’ll hear me.”

  “Ma’am, making crank calls to 911 is a prosecutable offense.”

  “My name is Kate Pierce, and I’m a detective at the Washburn County Sheriff’s Office in Wisconsin. Call Sergeant Dave Masters at the Atlanta PD. He’ll confirm that I’m helping on this case. Please believe me. I’m at the butcher’s home, and I need immediate help.”

  “What is the address of your emergency?”

  The address was written on the drawing Greg had found in the driveway. “I don’t have the address, but it’s northeast of town.”

  “Ma’am, we need the street name and a house number.”

  “Hang on, damn it.” I located the GPS details I had programmed into my phone earlier, and as I was about to read it off to her, I saw him. His eyes locked with mine, and as he bolted toward me, I spun on my heels and sprinted for the field. My lungs burned as if I had swallowed fire with each gulp of air. The sound of an ATV at my back told me that the dream was actually about both Janine and me.

  No, no, this can’t be happening! I have to wake up.

  That time, as much as I wanted it to be a nightmare, I knew it wasn’t. I was running for my life, and the Fulton County Butcher was gaining on me.

  I tripped over dirt clods and lost my balance in the ruts. The woods were a football field away, and if I could make it, we’d have a level playing field. But Greg was larger than me, and I didn’t have a gun. I fell again and didn’t have the strength to get up. As I gasped for air, I heard him kill the ATV’s engine. Footsteps got closer, and I felt the vibration on the ground. I looked up, and he was standing over me.

  He grinned maliciously as he leaned in. “So, Detective Pierce, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

  He co
cked his fist, then everything went black.

  Chapter 51

  He studied both unconscious women as he drank his tea. Kate, huddled in a fetal position, lay in the cage farthest from the door, and Tristan, now with black hair, was nearest him.

  “I don’t need both of you, but I do need to complete Kamila for tomorrow night’s unveiling. She’ll be the talk of the town.” He knelt at Tristan’s cage and noticed her gaunt face. His frown, which nearly caused his eyebrows to touch, showed his dissatisfaction. “What the hell happened to you? Your cheeks are sunken, and your face is as white as a sheet. That won’t do. You don’t even look like Kamila anymore!”

  Greg crossed the room and stared into Kate’s face. “You do have naturally dark hair, and your skin is fresh and supple.” He glanced at Tristan. “Not like yours now that you’ve gone without food and water for days.” He huffed his indifference toward the prostitute then turned to Kate again. “The fact that you have blue eyes too won’t matter since the right ones should arrive this afternoon.” He returned to Tristan’s cage and gave it a hard kick. “Consider yourself lucky to have skated by on this one. Today isn’t the day you’ll be dismembered, but as far as you’re concerned, Detective Pierce?” He looked at Kate. “Sorry to say, but you’re about to have the worst day you’ve ever had.”

  The police scanner on the counter behind Greg squawked to life. He reached back and adjusted the knob to get a clearer signal. The dispatch operator said units had been put on alert and were heading east toward the edge of town. A distress call had come in from a woman claiming to be at the home of the Fulton County Butcher, but the dispatcher wasn’t given the address before the call went dead. Police units were standing by and waiting for a street name to come in.

  Greg slammed his fist on the counter. “You’ll pay dearly now, Detective Pierce. Let’s see how you get out of the mess you’ve just created.”

  With the keys in hand, Greg ran to the rear of the shed, uncovered the truck, and drove it to the front of the house. Back in the second room, he injected Kate with a longer-lasting sedative, carried her to the truck, and tossed her on the bench seat. The torso and arms he meant to use in Kamila’s rebirth were wrapped in plastic sheeting with ice packs and placed in the bed of the truck. Greg looked around frantically. “My tools. I need my tools!” He gathered everything he could on his final trip to the hidden rooms, then he climbed into the truck and sped out of the driveway. He was on the road and heading north in under ten minutes.

  Chapter 52

  Dave checked the time. It was nearing noon, and Kate had been expected back an hour ago. She’d said she was stopping by the butcher shop to give Greg another look and to see if the truck was parked in the back. She hadn’t mentioned going anywhere else. Dave rubbed his forehead with concern then dialed her number again, but it went straight to voicemail. “Kate, I’m wondering where you are. Call me back as soon as you get this message.”

  Several minutes later, a knock sounded on his office door. The detectives who had gone to the credit union to check their camera footage had indeed spotted an older royal-blue truck with chrome bumpers.

  “Were you able to get a plate number or see the driver?”

  “No, sir,” Detective Shields said. “From that distance, we were lucky to identify the truck, but it definitely fit the general description of what we were looking for, and it turned left off Moreland onto Sky Haven.”

  “Which day and what time?”

  “We caught the vehicle on Saturday at five fifteen.”

  Dave leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “That fits the time frame and the direction he’d turn if the perp actually is Greg McMillian and he was going home from work.” Dave jerked his chin toward the door. “Head over to that butcher shop and see if the rental car Kate is using is there. I can’t remember the make, but I know it was red.” Dave pushed up his sleeve. “She should have been back by now. Go ahead, and I want an update in ten minutes.”

  “You got it, Boss.” Shields and Turner walked out.

  Where are you, Kate, and why didn’t you check in?

  Dave dialed Moss’s office. “We have a potential situation, sir, that I need to explain to you.”

  Sitting in Moss’s guest chair, Dave told his commander everything he knew up to that point. Kate hadn’t returned to the station and wasn’t answering her calls. He explained her suspicions about Greg McMillian being the Fulton County Butcher.

  “Has anybody gone to his market? We can pull him in for questioning and hold him for twenty-four hours if we need to.”

  Dave checked his watch. “I should be getting a call from Shields any minute.” His cell phone rang seconds later, and Dave pressed the speakerphone icon. “Shields, what have you got?”

  “Nothing. The butcher shop is locked up tight, and there aren’t any vehicles in the front or back lot. What do you want us to do, sir?”

  “Greg lives near Ellenwood. Get to that house immediately and see if anyone is there.” Dave hung up and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Moss asked.

  “Back to my office for a minute.”

  The men took to the hallway as Dave talked. “I hope to God Kate didn’t take it upon herself to check out his home.” He thought back to Kate’s earlier comment when he’d told her to be careful. She’d said, “I will, but he’s stuck at work, anyway. He can’t do me any harm.”

  In his office, Dave pulled out the desk drawer and slipped on his holster. He checked his weapon and grabbed another magazine.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going to Greg McMillian’s house. I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe it’s Kate’s intuition rubbing off on me.”

  Moss tipped his head toward the door. “If that man is really the Fulton County Butcher, then it’s my job to be there too. I’m going along.”

  In the cruiser, Dave engaged the light bar and siren. The scanner came to life moments after he turned out of the lot. Chatter filled the stations.

  “Hold up. What was that?” Moss asked as Dave turned it to their frequency. “I swear I heard something about units being dispatched to the northeast side of Ellenwood.”

  Dave cursed under his breath as he handed his phone to Moss. “Here. Call the Ellenwood PD and find out what’s going on. I hope to God it’s not related to Greg McMillian.”

  Moss dialed the Ellenwood Police Department and spoke to the dispatch operator. He snapped his head toward Dave as he hung up. “Step on it. The operator said the caller was disconnected but not before saying she was at the home of the Fulton County Butcher. I gave her Greg’s full name and address, and she’s dispatching the units on standby to the house. They’re a good ten minutes ahead of us.”

  “Shit!” Dave floored the gas pedal. “Kate was right all along.”

  They reached the home of Greg McMillian fifteen minutes later, and the tires spun as Dave made a hard left onto the driveway. Once he reached the clearing, he saw three patrol cars, Kate’s red rental, and a green Honda Fit. Dave slammed on the brakes and killed the engine. He and Loren charged out of the cruiser. “See anything?”

  Shields approached Dave and Moss. “Not yet, sir. Ellenwood PD was already here when we arrived. They said they saw an ATV in the shed and those two vehicles in the driveway, nothing else. We haven’t made entry into the house yet.”

  “Then let’s go.” The men jogged to the front door, and Dave gave the Ellenwood officer a nod. “Go ahead.”

  With his hand curled in a fist, the officer gave the door several hard thumps. “Ellenwood police. Open the door!”

  They waited.

  “Sir?”

  Dave jerked his chin. “Breach it.”

  The officer with the battering ram moved to the front as the others backed away. He slammed the ram against the front door and pushed it inward, then everyone took up positions once entry was made. They cleared the kitchen and living room, then Dave pointed toward the hall. The first and second bedrooms and
the hallway bath were secured as well. One room remained, and it was behind a closed door. With a hand signal, Dave counted out—three, two, one—then kicked it inward. They charged the room, but it was empty.

  “Check the bathroom and closet,” Dave yelled out.

  One officer entered the bathroom and was out seconds later. “Clear.”

  Dave looked under the bed while Moss checked behind the drapes.

  “Sergeant Masters, you aren’t going to believe this!” Turner pointed over his shoulder. “There’s a secret door inside the closet.”

  “What the hell?” Dave sprang to his feet and followed Turner. The group fell in line behind them. Several totes were strewn about and tumbled over near the back wall. Just behind them stood a full-sized locked door. Dave checked the hinges. “It opens inward. Ram it.”

  A hard swing with the ram splintered the door and broke it off the hinges. Shields kicked it repeatedly until it collapsed to the floor inside. With a wide step over it, Dave swatted at the wall until he found the switch. He hit it, and the fluorescent ceiling fixture illuminated the room.

  “Son of a bitch.” Dave stood with the others as they panned the room and tried to make sense of what lay in front of them. Inside that space was an operating room of sorts complete with an autopsy table, a freezer, refrigerator, and several roller carts. A full-sized cardboard image of a black-haired beauty stood against the wall. Dozens of photos of that same woman hung from a clothesline draped across the room.

  “Get more units here now. We need to find out who that woman is. It could help solve this case.” Moss jerked his chin at another door he spotted across the room. “Break it down.”