Allison Brennan - The Kill

Mouth dry, unable to swallow, she complied. She fought to control her shaking body, fearing any movement might kill her.

His breath touched her cheek, his voice an evil caress. “Try something like that again, I’ll cut your heart out.”

He withdrew the knife from her neck, twisted it in his hand, and plunged it toward her chest.

She screamed before she knew she’d opened her mouth, her arms instinctively coming up in a defensive move.

He stopped the knife, but not before it cut through her blouse. A sharp knick of the blade on her skin stung.

Uncontrollably shaking, she watched a rivulet of blood spread slowly down her blouse. Her heart beat visibly through her shirt. He’d actually cut her.

Driscoll stared at the blood, transfixed. For a moment, she was certain he’d stab her again, this time without restraint. The knife would tear open her heart and she’d last a full three minutes as her blood circulated through her body and out the hole in her heart, drenching her, her mind slowing but fully aware that she was dying.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable, hoping that Zack would shoot the bastard.

Dammit, she didn’t want to die! Especially at the hands of a psychopath like Christopher Driscoll. She didn’t want to die now that she finally had hope restored in her life, that she’d found a man she loved.

She didn’t want to lose Zack.

“Drive.”

She couldn’t have heard right. She opened her eyes.

“ Drive !” he shouted, moving the knife to his left hand and pressing the tip into her side enough to cause sharp pain. Would he nick her to death? Slowly drain her of blood until she was too weak to fight?

She let her foot up off the brake and the car rolled forward.

“Faster! And don’t be an idiot.”

Pressing the accelerator, she chanced a glance in the rearview mirror. Quinn and Zack were right behind them, Zack partially out of the car, his face all hard lines, his jaw clenched. His rifle was aimed at Driscoll’s head. But as Olivia gathered speed, Zack jumped back into the car.

“You won’t get away,” she said, her voice cracking. She swallowed, the cut in her neck throbbing painfully. “Kill me, it doesn’t matter. Cops are all over this mountain. They’ll shoot you dead.”

He said nothing. With the knife still near her side, he reached to the floor and felt around. His hand came back with the gun, but he put it under his leg. He liked holding the knife. His fingers turned it around and around. He wanted to use it.

On her.

Focus, Olivia. Don’t think about the knife. Don’t think about the gun. Get him talking.

Olivia didn’t remember much of her criminal psychology training, but one thing she did remember: get them talking.

She swallowed the terror remaining from her failed escape and said the first thing that came to mind.

“You killed my sister.”

His body stiffened, as if he hadn’t expected her to speak again, let alone announce that he’d killed Missy.

Olivia continued, emboldened by his silence. “In California. You framed Brian Harrison Hall for Missy’s murder. But you know he was released from prison.”

“I read about Harry’s release.” His voice was well modulated, intelligent. Gone was the hoarse, dark whisper. It sounded like they were having a regular conversation.

“Why Missy?”

He didn’t answer.

“I was there, you know.”

He looked at her closely. She forced herself to glance at him. If he got off on fear, she would bury it. Not give him the satisfaction that he had truly frightened her, that he still scared her, that she believed he would kill her without remorse or hesitation.

His pale blue eyes were cold, but his face was smooth, calm, normal . It didn’t surprise her that little girls had walked off with him; he didn’t look like a killer. He didn’t look like the monster Olivia knew he was.

“You?” he said. “ You were that little brat?”

She nodded, shaking, and refocused on the road, trying to maintain a steady speed. They were twisting down, around the mountain, but Road 56 was only a mile or two ahead of them. Road 56 was paved. There he’d make her drive faster, and any hope of her escape would then be futile.

She didn’t think she’d live through another attempt.

“You hit me across the face,” she said, the sting of that long ago blow still vivid.

“You tried to stop me from taking what was mine.”

Olivia shivered at his matter-of-fact tone.

“Do you remember Missy?”

“My angel.” He said angel with such reverence it chilled her.

“You killed her.” Her voice was far harsher than she’d intended. She held her breath, awaiting a physical blow. Or worse, the knife cutting deep into her flesh.

He didn’t touch her. Instead, he said, “I didn’t kill her.”

What was he doing, going for an insanity plea? Or claiming innocence?

“Yes you did,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm. “I saw you.”

“You said you saw Brian Hall.” His voice was mocking, almost laughing, and Olivia suppressed the kernel of doubt that tried to surface.

“We have your DNA.”

He was quiet. She continued slowly down the mountain. Spiraling down, down, getting closer to Road 56, which would bring them to the interstate.

Would he still need a hostage then? She hoped he’d keep her alive as long as he was being pursued but she couldn’t count on it. She needed a plan.

“She was suffering,” he said.

His voice was calm, almost surreal, and he was no longer looking at her. He stared out the window, lost in thought.

“What?!” She couldn’t have heard him right.

“Angels suffer, you know. So much pain. I freed her from her shell, gave her eternal life. Spirits live forever. There is no pain when you’re a pure soul. You should thank me for freeing your sister’s soul. You should be sad that I didn’t free yours, too.”

Dear God, his words terrified her but his voice was so ordinary. Reasoned.

“You killed Missy and all those other girls so they wouldn’t suffer.” She matched his tone: clinical and composed. She had to keep him talking. She didn’t dare hope she could talk him into surrendering, but she would damn well try.

“Yes. To relieve their suffering.”

“I think the court would consider that.” She hated the words, but hoped to convince him the system would be lenient.

“No one understands! No one sees other people’s pain.”

“Didn’t you know raping those girls hurt them?”

He didn’t respond, and Olivia mentally hit herself. She’d blown it. She should have pursued the other line of questioning. Dammit, she didn’t know what she was doing! She wasn’t a psychologist.

The police were all over the mountain. Quinn and Zack had certainly called in reinforcements. They’d be waiting at Road 56, as well as down the mountain. Would there be a roadblock? She didn’t know much about hostage negotiations, but logically, they would try and stop the car and talk to him. Reason with him. Promise him whatever he wanted, then find a way to take him down.

The fifteen minutes she’d been in the car seemed like forever; she certainly didn’t want to be a hostage for hours. She had to find a way to escape the car as soon as possible, before they reached Road 56, where jumping would be suicide.

She had only minutes to figure a way out. Where he wouldn’t kill her.

She had to get him talking again. Distract him. What did she really know about him other than he was a cruel, vicious child murderer? His mother had been murdered. His sister Angel. The man in his life, Bruce.

“Bruce is dead,” she said.