Page 93 of Sworn to Silence
He thought of all the things he’d done to her and another wave of exhilaration washed over him. She’d been courageous. Challenging. Strong. She’d had attitude and endurance and dignity. The best one yet. He’d done things to her he’d dreamed of for years, but never had the guts. His level of satisfaction had been high. He respected and admired her in a way he hadn’t the others.
Over the years, he’d experimented and discovered what he liked. He’d learned how to get the most from the women he took. He knew what type of woman he liked, what to look for. Before, there’d always been an underlying panic that made him jumpy and frightened. That fear had nearly ruined the rush. He was risking a lot to live out his fantasies; he wanted the experience to be worth it. This woman had lived up to his wildest expectations. He’d taken his time and savored every moment.
Already he missed her. He wished he’d kept her longer. The letdown was already encroaching on his high. The descent into disappointment that left him feeling deflated and empty. He’d once been told he had an addictive personality. He was too disciplined to indulge in vices as stupid and self-destructive as cigarettes or booze. But killing, having that ultimate power over another human being, was something else altogether. An addiction more powerful than any narcotic. A high he could not live without.
Bending, he unlaced his snow boots. Working the suspenders of the bib snow pants over his shoulders, he stepped out of them and tossed them over the seat of the snowmobile. Next, he unzipped his fly, removed the cock ring and wiped the semen from his skin. He would have liked to change underwear, but there was no time.
He snagged his keys from the workbench and slid into his vehicle. Opening the garage door, he backed out. By the time he pulled onto the street he was already anticipating his next kill.
CHAPTER 23
“Aw God! Aw Jesus no!No!”
I hear the screams from two hundred yards away. It’s a terrible sound in the silence of the woods. I glance at Tomasetti. He looks back at me, his expression asking,Now what?
A new and terrible fear throws me into a run. A dozen scenarios rush through my mind. Did one of the victim’s family members arrive? Did the killer return? I pick up speed and crash over a low-growing bush. I hear Tomasetti behind me, cursing, warning me to be cautious.
I burst into the clearing. To my utter shock, I see Norm Johnston kneeling beside the body. T.J. stands over him, his hands on the councilman’s shoulders. I know immediately something’s wrong with Norm. He’s on his knees, rocking like an autistic child, his head bowed. I approach slowly. “What’s Norm doing here?”
“Mrs. Srinvassen called him.” T.J. looks at me, his face ashen. “She recognized the vic. It’s his daughter.”
The words nearly drop me to my knees. Brenda Johnston is twenty years old. Smart. Sweet. And beautiful. A young woman with a bright future. Norm and I aren’t exactly friends, but I’ve heard him speak of his daughter. It’s the only time I even came close to liking him because I knew he had at least one redeeming feature: He was a good father. He was crazy about his only child. The knowledge that she is dead makes me feel sick inside.
I turn my attention to Norm. He’s looking at me as if this is somehow my fault. His face holds unfathomable pain. Tears stream from his eyes. His cheeks are nearly as red as the bloodstained snow. “It’s my little girl,” he sobs.
“Norm.” I set my hand on his shoulder. It trembles violently beneath my palm. “I’m so sorry.”
He remains hunched over the body. Blood stains his coat and slacks, his hands. A smear of crimson streaks his left cheek. He doesn’t seem to notice. He’s so distraught, he doesn’t realize he’s contaminating the scene.
“Norm,” I say gently. “I need you to come with me.”
“I can’t leave her like this. Look at her. He... gutted her. My little girl. How could someone do that? She was so beautiful.”
Tomasetti comes up beside me. I glance sideways at him. His jaw is clamped tight, the muscles working. “Mr. Johnston,” he says. “Go with Chief Burkholder. We’ll take good care of your daughter for you.”
“Can’t leave her like this.” He rocks back and forth. “Look at what he did to her.”
“She’s gone, sir.”
“Please don’t make me leave her.”
“You need to let us do our jobs. We’ve got to protect the scene.”
Norm looks at him, his face screwed up. “Why her?”
“I don’t know.” Tomasetti nudges me aside, and I let him. “But you can bet we’re going to get him.”
Taking the man’s arm, Tomasetti helps him to his feet. “Pull yourself together, Mr. Johnston. Go with Chief Burkholder. She’s got some questions for you.”
Johnston is like a zombie. I make eye contact with Tomasetti, but I can’t read his expression. I don’t know what to do with Norm. He’s in no condition to be questioned, and I’m not very good at comforting. But he needs a friend and there’s no one else to do it so I take his arm and lead him toward the dam. “Let’s walk.”
“Chief Burkholder!”
An odd sense of relief skitters through me when I see Nathan Detrick and Deputies Hunnaker and Barton come over the crest of the dam. As recently as yesterday, I would have resented his presence. Today, everything else is secondary to stopping this killer.
Detrick reaches us, his eyes flicking from me to the body of the victim. “Holy Mother,” he says in a guttural voice.
“I’ve got officers setting up a perimeter.” I hear my own words as if someone else is speaking them. “The killer may still be in the area. Probably on a snowmobile.”
