Nancy Grace - The Eleventh Victim

His eyes were sharp and he spotted the bandage on her left hand as she reached up to grasp her shoulder bag.

She was lucky to be walking at all. She better not complain. A few cracked ribs were nothing compared to what the others got.

When she pulled her scarf off to rearrange her blonde hair, he was nearly sliced in two by the sight of her face, pale after hours in lockup, blonde hair blowing against her cheeks.

The others in Atlanta had meant nothing to him. He couldn’t possibly have cared less when they died. He was only interested in that beautiful moment, the intense eclipse of pain he gave them at the very moment of death.

Maybe it was something the two of them, Hailey and he, could discuss back at her place.

As she came down the long flight of granite steps to the street, he stepped out of the shadow and onto the sidewalk.

She never even looked back, not nearly as sharp as she was during her days as a prosecutor.

This was going to be easy.

He tried to imagine the look on her face if she were to turn around by chance and see him so close, just behind her.

Would she be scared? Would she fight? Would she confront him, here in the streets, alone? Or would she turn and run as best she could with her ribs bandaged?

The thought of her trying to run from him made his whole body tense.

God, his hands had started to tingle in his coat pockets. The electric heat pulsed past his fingertips up through his palms. Even his wrists ached.

He was so close to her now, he could call out her name and she’d turn around.

He wondered if her hair smelled the same as it had in the courtroom five years ago. He’d been fantasizing about the inside of her apartment. He had gazed up at it from the street for hours at night, watching until her bedroom light went out. He could tell she left a light on somewhere, maybe the kitchen, over the stove.

Once he was inside, maybe he’d even find a scrapbook in her apartment. Maybe there’d be news clippings with him in it.

He knew in his heart she thought about him just like he thought about her.

The big difference was that he hadn’t made her suffer for five years in the bottom of a stinking hellhole.

He followed along behind her. It would be tough for her to get a cab tonight, especially in this neighborhood. It was cold as hell and late. She had a nice long walk ahead of her. He noticed she favored her right side as she continued walking, and he saw from behind that she was wearing old cowboy boots.

Nice. They were walking through the city together. How romantic. Just like a movie.

His fingers were starting to feel like they’d explode straight out of their skin inside his pockets, and his groin throbbed in sync with the blood pulsing through his temples.

He could feel it all. He was here, now…with her. He’d dreamed about this moment for the past five years, waking and sleeping.

Everything would be okay.

St. Simons Island, Georgia

THE BELL WAS RINGING OVER AND OVER, BUT IT SEEMED FAR away… Then something else…a pounding sound.

Virginia opened her eyes.

It took her a while to get her bearings. Why was she on the floor, wedged between the wall and a love seat? She was lying directly beneath a tall bedroom window and looking under the love seat toward her bedroom door. She could make out the bottoms and legs of the furniture, and could see straight under and through to the other side of her bed, and on to the hall beyond the bed and bedroom door.

She closed her eyes again, her head in a vise of pain.

The house was still, completely still. As her vision corrected, she realized she was staring straight into a set of deep, brown eyes that stared right back at her, trained and unblinking.

Sidney.

The wiener lay flat on his stomach, all four sausage legs splayed out to his sides, gazing mournfully at her. Immediately recognizing she was awake, he army-crawled on his tummy across the carpet to where she lay trapped between object and wall. He crawled all the way, till they lay nose to nose. Lying on the carpet, inhaling his doggie exhale, she tried to speak his name. The pain in her throat was so intense she caught her breath mid-syllable.

She tried to roll over and up, but she couldn’t. Summoning up all the strength left in her body, she managed to rise up halfway and sit with her back against the wall, her head spinning with the effort.

What the hell happened?

Sidney’s joy that she was alive could not be contained and he began rapid-licking her calf. The wiener looked for the world like he had been crying. She tried to reach out to pet his head, but the fierce pain in her side wouldn’t let her extend her arm.

When she looked down at her right hand, she saw that blood had dried down two of her fingers where there should have been nails. The nails had been broken off backward.

What day was it? Why was she on the floor? Confused, she glanced around and spotted her phone and digital clock radio, both torn out of the wall and broken in pieces on the floor.

It all came back in a rush… the two men with no necks. The threats about the beach. Her shirt being torn from her…

She looked down with momentary panic and was relieved to see that the shirt was still around her waist and her jeans were still on, buttoned and zipped.

At least she only took a beating from the no-necks. It could have been worse. So much worse.

But how did they know? How had they found out about her?

And what about the others…her little band of misfits…her guerrillas? Had they been beaten as well? Were they even alive? Had they fought back? Could they? Could the two intruders possibly know how to get their names, much less locate them?

Virginia stiffened; there was movement downstairs.

The sound of the sliding glass door onto the deck opening…She could hear the metal slide down the floor groove and then catch. A pause, then the door was slid shut again. She heard the glass door’s lock click back into place.

They were back.

They must know she was still in the bedroom. They must think she was still alive. She looked wildly around the room for an escape…other than down the stairs and directly into the path of her attackers.

The only other way out was the bedroom window. Better to jump from the second story and risk a broken arm or leg than the alternative.

She caught Sidney’s eye.

Please, please don’t start barking… just this once…

Sidney seemed to get it…that he had to remain silent…

She couldn’t stand, so with her heart pounding frantically, Virginia started to crawl toward the window.

They must know she was still in the bedroom. How much time did she have? Not enough.

She rounded the bed, her body screaming in agony. She inched herself past the bed…then just a few feet more to the window…

She was there! She’d made it!

Now, to lift herself up, unlock, raise the pane, stand, and get out…

It was impossible.

No, it isn’t. You have to save yourself. It’s the only way.

Struggling, she pulled up on the sill and reached for the lock, stretching…stretching…

All she had to do was open the window. She could try and scream. Maybe the neighbors would hear…Someone…Anyone…

The pain, so acute it took her breath away…No scream escaped her lips. It was futile anyway, her house was set apart from the others; her neighbors would be sealed into their air-conditioned houses, insulated from the day’s heat. Her voice would be drowned out by the surf.

She silently reached to unlock the window. Straining for the lock, she stopped, tried again. She managed to reach it, turn it.

Wincing in pain, she began to raise it, just enough to get her torso out, then fall to the ground twenty feet below.