William Bernhardt - Death Row

He tried to turn his mind to other things. But nothing worked.

His palms were sweating. He was breathing in deep heavy gulps, like a man fighting nausea. He tried singing songs, reciting verse. No use. All he could think about was how wonderful it would be to take her as she was, chained down on the floor, to rip off her clothes, get what he wanted. She would scream and that would make it all the more delicious. It would be a sweet ecstasy, a rare delight-

He pounded his fists against his forehead. Stop it! he told himself. You are not a monster!

What was it Dr. Bennett had said? You can be whoever you want to be. How well she knew him, from all those sessions. How well she understood. She knew exactly how to get to him, to send him into turmoil. How clever she was. How much she deserved to be taken like an animal, to be hurt like-

“Stop!” he screamed.

He covered his mouth with his hand. He had not meant to speak out loud. Not that anyone could possibly hear him. But talking to himself-screaming to himself, actually-that was the sure sign of a madman, wasn’t it? That was proof that he had totally lost what little control he had ever had. That he would not be able to resist-

He could just leave. Rothko was gone and wouldn’t return for at least half an hour. But how far could he go? Rothko had found him before; he would simply do it again. And the consequences could be horrible. Rothko had said that if he failed to obey, didn’t do every single horrible thing he was told to do-

Then Rothko would reveal all the previous horrible things Aravena had done. He would tell the police, even.

Just as Aravena was finally achieving some measure of freedom, it would be snatched away from him. For something he had done so long ago. For a crime committed when he was sick, when he had all those urges he couldn’t control.

But was he any better now? Or did he just like to think so? Here he was, once again, thinking the same old twisted thoughts. Thinking hard. Desperately wanting to open the door and-

And why not? Why the hell not? In this world of sinners, why must he be a saint? Why couldn’t he do it? Just do it and do it and do it and-

His head fell, banging against the smooth Formica finish. He was so confused. Tears actually trickled out of his eyes, running down his cheeks and washing his face.

And then, as if the tears had washed away the turmoil, in a moment of brilliant clarity, he knew. He rose to his feet, excited, determined, resolved.

He knew what he was going to do. And he was looking forward to it.

“Are you sure you don’t have any idea where he might be?” Mike barked into his cell phone.

“Sorry,” Ben answered on the other end. “I don’t.”

“What about Christina? She’s usually more on top of things than you, anyway.”

“She’s not around to ask. She’s disappeared. Told Jones she wanted to talk to the shrink. Dr. Bennett.”

“Blast.” Mike pounded his steering wheel. He and Baxter had been driving all over town, looking for Peter Rothko, everywhere they could think that he might be. They’d been to the corporate headquarters, his regional office, his palatial home near Philbrook. He was nowhere to be found. “Did he say anything when he was there? Give any indication of his plans?”

“Not that I recall. He left in kind of a hurry, actually.”

“He did? Why?”

“I don’t know.” Ben pondered. “He did ask me a few questions about Dr. Bennett, though, now that I think about it. Where she worked.”

“How does he even know the woman?”

Ben considered. “I don’t think he did.”

“Then why in the hell-” Mike tried not to get agitated, but it was hard. Be it instinct or premonition, he was getting the distinct feeling that something bad was about to happen. Again. “Why did he say he was leaving? What were his exact words?”

“I think…” Ben closed his eyes. “He said he wasn’t sure, but he was afraid a problem had just arisen. And he was going to have to eliminate it.”

The silence on the phone line was deafening.

“You don’t suppose…”

“What if he went to her office? Christina was going there, too.”

Mike grabbed the detachable siren from behind his seat, slapped it on top of the Trans Am, and turned it on. “Give me Bennett’s address.” Ben did. “I’ll call you as soon as we get there.”

“Don’t bother. I’m on my way.”

Christina crept up to the darkened restaurant and flattened herself against the side wall. This was quite possibly the stupidest thing she had ever done, and she had a pretty good list of contenders. Certainly Ben would think so, were he here, which unfortunately he was not. She was on her own, and even though she did not understand fully what was going on, she understood enough to know that it was stupid to go in there. When she was by herself.

But then, so was Hayley Bennett.

Two men were victimizing a woman, just as they had probably done to at least two others. It was time for that to stop.

And there were two things of which she was certain. First, that Hayley Bennett had been hurt and that her life was in danger. And second, that the tallish man with the red hair who she had seen drive away would be back soon. She hadn’t gotten a clear look at his face, but given his general appearance, and given where they were, she had her suspicions.

And she didn’t like them.

If she was going to help, she had to act fast.

She could run, go for help. But how much time did Bennett have? If she could just slip in there and get the good doctor out before the man returned…

She was relieved to see that he had left the door unlocked. Christina knew this joint had been closed, so they probably weren’t expecting any traffic. Especially not this time of night. But this also told Christina that the man was certain Bennett could not escape. Which meant she must be restrained or incapacitated. Or worse.

The door squeaked a little when she opened it. Just a little, but in this pitch-dark silence, it seemed thunderous. She had seen two men back at Dr. Bennett’s office, but had only seen one leave. She wasn’t sure what happened to the other. He might’ve already been in the car waiting; she might’ve just not seen him. She had been watching many ways at once, and a man on his own moves a lot faster than a woman who’s being dragged against her will. She could’ve missed him.

But it was also possible that he had remained behind.

She removed her shoes so that she could slide across the tile floor, all but soundlessly. Her heart was practically beating its way out of her chest. She couldn’t think of a time when she’d been so scared. What a combination: the darkness, the silence, the horror of knowing she was in the vicinity of people who had committed murder, maybe several times over. Being here, on this site of tragedy. Her sweat glands were doing double time and her mouth couldn’t be drier if she had just scaled Black Mesa.

But she kept on moving.

This was the sort of thing Ben was always warning her against. Don’t be so impulsive, he would tell her. Think before you act. Of course, he was the Prince of Think Before You Act. Sometimes she wondered if he would ever act, he was so busy thinking about it. Christina, on the other hand… wasn’t. For good or ill, she was not the contemplative sort. She liked to get started and get done. She hated to see opportunities get away from her. If she wanted to do something, she did it. And that drove Ben insane. Maybe that was why he had never-

But she didn’t need to distract herself with that kind of thinking now. She had to concentrate on what she was doing. On not getting killed.

The moonlight seeping through the windows was not strong, but there did not appear to be anyone in the seating area. At least no one she could see. All the booths and tables were empty. As they should be.