Bloodlust

Prologue

The choice is yours.”

His voice was deep, and he’d spoken the sentence with such chilling detachment, it petrified her.

He had thick, wavy black hair only partially tamed by liberally applied wax.

Dense eyebrows formed a ridge above his deep eye sockets, which appeared to have been smudged with charcoal.

The irises were as black as ripe olives and void of animation.

His nose was broad and flat, his lips fleshy.

His stolid appearance bore the stamp of inborn brutality.

He was going to kill her.

She’d known that the moment she’d turned away from the kitchen sink, where she had just washed her last dish of the day.

She’d been looking forward to putting her feet up, maybe watching a TV show, or simply sitting and relishing the quiet since Andrew was down for the night and sleeping peacefully in his crib.

The two of them had had a busy day that had included a Gymboree class with children who, like Andrew, had just begun to walk. That was followed by a trip to the supermarket, which was always an adventure.

She hadn’t planned on ending the day with having to barter for his life.

“Please,” she said, her voice hoarse with terror, “don’t hurt my son.”

“The choice is yours.”

“But… but…” She stopped there. No matter how desperately she pleaded, this man wouldn’t be swayed. It was clear to her that he had a purpose, and he would see it accomplished. She knew that instinctually, like a rabbit that offers up his throat to a hungry wolf. The die was cast.

He’d been as still and silent as a statue when she’d turned around and discovered him standing within ten feet of her, his imposing presence seeming to shrink the kitchen.

He was expressionless. He wasn’t wielding a weapon. He was nicely dressed in a black suit, white shirt, black tie. His arms were held relaxed at his sides. He didn’t move. Nor did he need to. Without doing a thing, he radiated menace.

Already knowing the answer, she had asked anyway, “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

Speaking calmly and with complete confidence that she would comply, he had told her what she must do if she wanted to spare her son’s life: She must sacrifice hers.

Now, having accepted that he was committed to his mission, she said, “How do I know that after I’m dead, you won’t kill my baby anyway?”

“You don’t. The only guarantee you get is that if you don’t do as I say, he will die.

” Reaching into the front pocket of his suit jacket, he withdrew a length of thin wire with black handholds attached to each end.

When he slipped his hands into them, she noticed that he wore a ring on his right pinkie. It was a signet ring with a red stone.

He yanked on the handholds with a sudden, snapping motion that pulled the wire taut between his hands.

“You’ll watch me kill your baby with this, and then I’ll kill you the same way.

I can make it slow and painful. Or,” he said, “you can make it easy on yourself, do as I tell you, and I’ll leave the baby alone. ”

He made it sound as though she should thank him for giving her an option, but his mild tone of voice didn’t mitigate the cruelty of the choice he’d offered her. His features remained immutable, without a trace of emotion or humanity.

Unable to form words with her trembling lips, she blurted a sob. “Please don’t do this.”

“The choice is yours.”

“I want to see my baby one last time.”

He shook his head.

“Please.” She clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Let me kiss him goodbye.”

“You kissed him good night, didn’t you? That’s gonna have to do. Now, go into the garage.”

As she turned, she noticed the knife block on the counter, every slot holding a sharpened stainless steel blade. She could try. She could put up a fight. But then he probably would put that wire around Andrew’s neck and…

“No, no,” she cried out and covered her face with her hands to blot out the horrific image. Andrew’s life depended on her compliance. She wouldn’t struggle.

He’d moved up close behind her. “Open the door. Go into the garage.”

She did as told, although tears were almost blinding her. She took the two steps down. “Who are you? Why are you making me do this?”

“I’m not. The choice is yours.”

Although he’d repeated it three times, he said it now with no more inflection than he had the first time.

Under her breath, she began reciting Hail Marys.

She thought of her parents and the anguish this was going to cause them.

She choked on sobs at the thought of Andrew growing up without her. “I love you I love you. Mommy loves you. I didn’t do this. Please, God, let him know that I did not do this.

“Mitch, my love, tell Andrew,” she whispered.

“Impress on our son how much I loved him. Make certain he understands that I didn’t abandon him.

Oh, Mitch. I love you. I wouldn’t do this.

” She sobbed and whispered his name again.

“You’ll know that I didn’t. I know that you’ll know.

I know that you’ll know. I know that you’ll know. ”