25. 24
My phone pings, indicating I’ve received an email. The fact that I have to open my eyes and my neck hurts tells me that I’ve fallen asleep somewhere during the night. The guilt sets in instantaneously. Viv isn’t home, so I shouldn’t sleep. I should be out looking for her, not sleeping.
The rational part of my brain knows that I need sleep to find her, but that part isn’t communicating with the emotional part right now, and the emotional part is being fucking loud.
I glance at my phone, and my heart almost stops.
It’s a message from Wayne.
Suddenly I’m wide awake. My feet dangle over Beckett’s lap, who’s observing me while he’s working on his phone. Remy is asleep while he’s sitting down, leaning against the couch at Chester’s desk where we’ve all gathered. Chester is asleep, his head on his crossed arms on his desk, all kinds of programs running on the screens in front of him. The fact that his screen hasn’t locked yet means he must’ve just fallen asleep. He takes his cyber security very seriously, and if he had been asleep for very long, his computer would’ve locked itself.
Do I let him sleep? Do I wake him up?
Beckett raises one of his eyebrows, wordlessly asking what’s happening. I decide then we’re all doing this together. The last time I received an email from Wayne, he sent me a video of him murdering two women. What if this is another video? What if these are the last moments of my aunt Viv?
I’m going to be sick.
In a moment of clarity, I realize that while I’m alive and Wayne has no intention of killing me, I’m as much a victim as all of these women. He’s torturing me. And for the first time ever, I’m admitting it to myself.
I breathe in for four, hold for four, breathe out for four and hold for four again.
It’s the only time I allow myself to gather my bearings. When I sit up, taking my feet off Beckett’s lap, I gently kiss Remy’s shoulder, waking him up instantaneously. His eyes look worried. He doesn’t even know what’s going on, but he looks worried. That’s what Wayne has done to us. There is no peace of mind as long as he’s at large and keeps on taking lives.
I get steady on my legs while I take the few steps to get to Chester. Laying a hand on his shoulder as well, I try to wake him up, but he doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Ches, wake up,” I say, my voice between a whisper and its normal volume.
“Motherfucking pool isn’t going to suck me in. I roll a D20,” he says as his eyes flutter open. It’s almost enough to make the nausea I feel subside and create a smile on my lips, but it doesn’t fully take.
“There’s no pool trying to suck you in and we aren’t playing DD. I got an email from Wayne.”
He sits up as if he’s being poked with a hot poker, his eyes focusing and him coming back to the land of the living. I can visibly see him fighting off the dream and coming back to us. He tries to keep his mouth closed while he yawns and only manages to do so halfway. After blinking a few times, he seems to be able to focus on his screens again.
Remy and Beckett have joined us in front of his sea of screens, and we all watch while Chester opens my email on his system. I take a deep breath while he clicks on the email with the subject ‘Time is running out’ and don’t let it go until I see there’s no attachment to go along with the email. No video.
Instead, it’s a picture of a broken window. It’s one of those old-fashioned forged iron industrial ones. The windows are broken and dusty.
Which leads us exactly nowhere.
Chester starts running data through various programs that mean nothing to me, but I guess he’s going over the metadata that he sent.
“Are we looking for a hostage place or a crime scene?” Remy asks, looking at Beckett for confirmation. These aren’t words I want to hear, but I know the answer even before the trained profiler does.
“He’s kept her safe,” I whisper.
They all look at me for an explanation.
“He’s escalating, right? He isn’t waiting for the appropriate amount of time any more. He’s not taking any precautions. He knows his time is running out. But he’s also getting bolder and bolder. First he made me listen to what he was doing on the phone. Then he sent me a video so he could show me what he does. That’s not enough now anymore. He wants me to be there.”
“Because somewhere in his sick mind, he thinks you’re part of this,” Beckett says, nodding. Chester gets back to his screen, resuming whatever it is he’s doing. Remy just takes me in his arms, and I guess that’s really all he can do anyway.
It doesn’t make me feel any better.
The only thing that would make me feel better right now is to have Viv in my arms and see Wayne get taken away, never to see the light of day again. I understand it’s an old-fashioned saying, when people disappeared into dungeons and they literally never saw the light of day anymore, but I would be more than perfectly fine if Wayne were to befall the same fate.
Beckett suddenly takes off without a word, only to come back again with Winny in tow. She’s rubbing her eyes, yesterday’s mascara smeared beneath it. Her normally tidy braids are a little wild, and I have to admit I like seeing her like this, even if it’s for all the wrong reasons.
“Pull up the picture again,” Beckett demands.
Chester listens, one of his eyebrows raised in question as if he can’t believe that Winny will see anything different than all of us combined.
“He sent us this. He obviously wants us to figure it out. What are we missing?”
While Winny has the exact same training as Beckett, she has a different background. Yes, she’s a trained agent, but deep down she’s an academic. That’s why it makes so much sense for her to go into research when all this is over and done with.
She cocks her head, biting on her bottom lip and letting go with a plop over and over again while the wheels in her head are spinning.
“Can you zoom in on the bottom right corner?” she asks Chester.
He does so and when the image enlarges, a faint green glow appears on the screen.
“Do you think it’s metadata?” he asks.
“No, adding metadata would be too specific for you. He isn’t speaking to you, he’s speaking to Abby.”
“What’s going on then?”
She inhales, her eyebrows wrinkled. “I think the green light is the light from an emergency exit. The style of the window seems to be industrial, making me believe that it’s some kind of industrial building. The window looks old. So maybe abandoned? There aren’t any landmarks in the background outside, so we’re not looking at downtown Portland, because you can always see something.”
I catch myself nodding along.
“So, old warehouse? Old factory?”
“Still not enough,” Beckett grunts. The floor vibrates when he paces up and down, trying to figure this out. All of us will be damned to let ourselves be outsmarted by Wayne.
“What did the email say?” she asks.
“Something about time running out.”
“That’s oddly specific, don’t you think?”
“Not really,” I say. “I think he means that Viv’s time is running out.”
Chester spins around on his desk chair. He captures my eyes and then starts spinning around on his chair.
“What’s he doing?” Winny says.
“Trying to look at things from a new perspective,” I say, fighting the smile that’s about to form because it’s so familiar.
“What if he’s in the abandoned clock factory?” Chester blurts without slowing down. And it’s like a lightbulb coming on. Of course, that’s where he is. I could kiss all of them for figuring it out, but I’m halfway to the dressing room before I can do so.
We’re rushing down the streets of Portland, the sirens blasting full volume. People are trying to get out of the way, but they’re not fast enough to my liking. Beckett passes them by as fast as he can, and while I gave him shit months ago when he was in pursuit of me and Remy when he scratched his mirrors, he’s a really good driver. I’d just like to be able to drive with the speed of light right now.
To be honest, I think I’m having a little panic attack. Time seems to move slower than normal, which is odd when we’re being this hasty. My heart doesn’t stop pounding so fast that it almost hurts.
Beckett and I were out the door before Alex, Scott and Dylan were ready to go, but I just couldn’t wait for them. They’re en route now according to the comms I’m receiving through my earpiece. They’ll be close behind, but time is of the essence.
When we reach the border of Portland city, we get onto the industrial site. There’s less traffic here, so Beckett can stop the sirens. It might be for the best to get there in silence anyway. The element of surprise is always advisable.
According to navigation, he takes a corner when we’re almost there, and I’m pretty sure two of the tires come off the ground. Once we do, I will see a building in the distance. It looks old and ragged and deserted. A huge clock is on the front of the building, the sight of it sending a shiver down my spine.
I’d rather not be in this situation, but I have to admit that Wayne knows how to set a scene. This seems rather fitting for a last standoff. Because that’s exactly what’s going down – we’re ending this today. I don’t care how it happens, but it’s going to happen.
Beckett stops the car in front of the building, and before the engine is killed I’m out of it, heading to the doors already. I’ve got a gun at the ready, aiming it at whatever it is I’m going to find behind those doors. I’m sure there’s protocol about announcing myself, but hell fucking no, I’m going in no matter what. Besides, I’m armed to the teeth right now. Rambo ain’t got nothing on me. I’m not taking any chances.
The hall is dark, and I can’t see a damn thing, which infuriates me. Alongside my vision, my hearing disappears, meaning all comms die. I can’t hear what’s going on on Chester’s side of the connection anymore, and I’m pretty sure that Wayne has some sort of jammer. It does mean we’re in the right place though. My patience has run out. We’re here. I need to see both that gigantic motherfucker and my aunt right fucking now.
Then I remember the photo of the window. Light was coming in through it, and I don’t see any light here, which probably means that he’s in a different room in this building.
Or that we’re in the wrong fucking place and he’s toying with us.
Before I can finish the thought, Wayne’s voice comes through the speakers of the factory.
“You made it just in time, dear Abby. Come find me. We’ve got some catching up to do. And I bet Vivian is dying to see you as well.”
The sound dies right before it comes back on again.
“Hah. You got that? Dying to see you? That was very clever of me.”
My vision goes blurry and all rationality goes out the window. I start running towards the only door I can see. I forget all my training and open it by pushing it with my back, gun in my outstretched hand, when frantically looking inside. I spot the window from the picture, and then I see him.
I see Wayne.
In his arms is Aunt Viv and I stop running. It’s like I’ve located a wild animal and have frozen in place, so I don’t aggravate it.
Beckett’s footsteps die down behind me and I come to the conclusion that he must’ve seen Wayne as well.
Subconsciously I’ve started to hold my breath. Not even my breathing exercises will get me through this. It’s this fragile moment that can shatter with the gentlest of breezes.
Aunt Viv is bound and gagged. I can see where the tears have streaked through the dirt on her cheeks – forcing myself not to think about how she got such a layer of filth on her face in such a small period of time.
Fuck, she could have been dead by now, but she’s not.
Once again, I reach the same conclusion: Wayne is spiraling. He’s killing every woman who comes in his path who even slightly looks like me or like his mom, I guess. He doesn’t take any time to perform his ritual anymore. He just kills them and leaves a trail of them for us to find.
There’s just one reason he’s keeping her alive.
He’s doing this to lure me to him.
Somewhere along the road, his intentions changed. He no longer wants to kill women who look like his mother to get sexual satisfaction. At some point in time, that changed into me.
He wants me.
I’m not sure what he wants to do with me, or perhaps I do, but I choose to ignore it, but he’s willing to throw everything he stands for overboard.
He lifts his eyes and meets mine while the corners of his mouth crawl up, making a chill run down my spine. In his left hand, he holds a gun, pointing it towards Aunt Viv’s abdomen. It’s not necessarily a death sentence if he fires, but the chances of her not surviving are high.
I swallow hard and force myself to look at his face and not Aunt Viv’s. I hold out a hand to signal Beckett to hold back, and of course, Wayne sees and starts smiling. Let him know he fucking has me, I can’t deny that. The sound of footsteps dies down, so I know Beckett is taking my lead.
“Hello Abby,” his sickeningly sweet voice says.
My heart is pounding so hard it hurts, but I force myself to cut through the worst of the anxiety and focus on the sharp edge the adrenaline manages to give me.
“Hello Wayne,” I answer while I try to keep my voice even but fail. Viv whimpers, but I still refuse to look at her. It could be too late if I take my eyes off of Wayne for even a second. It’s vital that I stay focused on him.
This would be if there was ever a definition of a life and death moment.
“I’m glad you could find me,” he says.
“I’m glad I’m here on time.”
“Time, huh?” he says, breaking our eye contact to stare into the distance for a moment. It’s too short of a moment to really do something, and when his focus shifts back on me, his eyes are hard. “I never took that name for myself, you know?” he continues. “It’s what the papers made up.”
“I know,” I answer truthfully. “But it does hold some sort of significance to you,” I go on, because really, it’s the only piece of the puzzle I never fully understood. “Why clocks, Wayne?”
Even after standing in one spot, my heart is still hammering like I’m running a marathon. Part of me is curious about the answer he’ll give me; another part is buying time to figure out how to get everyone out of here alive.
“Memory is a curious thing, isn’t it?” he says.
I get that the clock has something to do with his past, but I just don’t know how it fits in.
“Smell is such a strong sense in terms of memory. But I don’t remember how my mother smelled. The memory of her smell got replaced by blood. It wasn’t until I started making small animals bleed that I could remember her by smell.”
He shifts Aunt Viv in his arms, having one arm over her bound arms, crossing her chest and holding onto her shoulder. Muffled sounds come from behind her gag, and the second I let my eyes flick to her I can see her terror even all the way from here. I don’t get any time to process.
“The clock struck six when he killed my mother. Every time I hear a clock strike, I can remember her. It’s like she’s right there next to me.”
Something shifts in his eyes, like he’s right there again, three years old and his whole world just got turned upside down. It’s almost ironic that the way his killings make me feel, namely sad for his victims and those he leaves behind, is where he’s coming from himself. He was that boy who had his mother taken away from him in a brutal manner at a time in his life when he needed her the most.
His bright blue eyes find mine, and I can see something resembling fragility flash there.
“I’ve never been the same again since that clock struck, have I?”
I’m taken aback by the comment. Did he just show some form of remorse? Of insightfulness? Surely not. He’s not capable according to everything we believe. But one thing I’ve learned is that not everything is black and white, and it seems there are more layers to Wayne than we’ve realized so far.
The look on his face changes. All emotion drains from his face, and it’s like I’m looking at a different person. The one we’ve all heard about, the one who left a trail of victims.
“Now, for the main event. I’m really glad you could make it. I’ve wanted to share this with you for some time, but you’ve been quite a hard woman to get alone. And now you’ve brought Agent Beckett along, which is a real shame. I’d almost start to believe that you like him more than me. But you’ve proven that you’ve got enough love in your heart for more than just one man, right? Such a modern woman. My mother loved more than one man as well, but they didn’t know about each other. Except for the last one, I guess. He found out about her, and she paid with her life. This all could have been prevented had he been a little more open-minded like your little group of merry men.”
I’m getting sick. Bile is rising in my throat. It’s a combination of the helplessness in not being able to get to Viv, knowing that he’s about to kill her and the idea that he wants to be one of the men who loves me. Who believes that we could have something together. Because I look like his dead mother.
Somehow I manage to keep the contents of my stomach down, mainly because there isn’t that much in there after the night and the morning I’ve had.
“Be a good, brave girl, and stay right where you are or I’ll have to shoot Viv dead. I’d rather not, you see. I like it when I feel the struggle go out of them. Shooting is too fast. That applies to you too, my dear agent.”
How the hell does he think he’s getting away with this? He has leverage now. He has Viv. How the hell is this man so delusional to think that killing my aunt will make me fall in love with him and we’re going to run off into the sunset together? If he’s killing Viv anyway, he should know we’re never letting him get out of here alive.
There is no logic to be found because he’s crazy. Not crazy in the sense of being a little weird. No, crazy as in having something psychologically wrong with him. These kinds of male profilers can spend the rest of their lives studying, trying to find out what went wrong, and where it all happened, just to hopefully get some understanding for similar future cases and prevent them.
It’s almost happening in slow motion when Wayne brings his hands to Viv’s neck, the gun still in his hand. It doesn’t matter. He can still choke her while holding it. As long as she doesn’t get any oxygen into her body, it’ll give in. Wither. Die. It doesn’t need to be the perfect chokehold.
And I’m not going to let this happen.
I can see one clear solution. The only thing that will possibly get us out of this mess. Alive.
I see no other way out of this than to do what I do next. Using hand signals, I tell Beckett to shoot me. My heart beats fast like a hummingbird is fluttering against my throat. My mouth has gone dry and my muscles stiffen as I wait for the impact.
When nothing happens, I sign again, not daring to look backwards.
Still nothing.
Meanwhile Wayne is getting his hands around Viv’s neck, watching me like a hawk. So I signal again, this time more intently.
Then Beckett fires his gun with a loud bang, and a sharp pain goes through my shoulder. Even if I expected it to come, I still flinch and want to collapse, scream a little maybe, but I don’t. I just keep staring at Wayne, waiting. The bullet wound burns like freaking hell, and then I feel warmth starting to spread over my shoulder.
It’s a through and through, in what I consider to be a harmless spot. It’s where we’re taught to aim when you want to disarm someone. Beckett finally got the message.
Wayne as well.
His eyes go wide and he lets Viv’s neck go. His jaw goes slightly ajar when I see his chest puff up with the big gulp of air he inhales.
“No!” he shouts, just a second too late.
He lets go of Viv entirely, making her crumble to the ground. The gun he was aiming at her is pointed at the ground, and while he tries to take a step in my direction, Beckett’s gun goes off a second time.
And a third.
The first bullet catches Wayne in the shoulder of his gun arm, making him drop the gun to the ground. The second one catches him in the chest, somewhere in the heart region, and it’s that bullet that makes him slump to the ground.
The tiny moment I can see his face, he looks equal parts shocked and surprised.
Did he really not consider this being the outcome?
When Wayne’s body goes still immediately, I know Beckett has hit him in the heart. In seconds, his life has left his body and the room is silent.
Is it really over?
Before I can think of an answer, I run towards Viv, who’s hysterically crying and shaking. With the hand of my good arm, I untie the gag and start working on her tied hands. As soon as she’s able to speak, she starts to chant ‘it’s over, it’s over, it’s really over’. I don’t know if she’s trying to convince herself or if it’s a wish - a plea - for all of it to be over.
Beckett has the clarity of mind to walk towards Wayne first, spare him a short look and kick the gun that is still right beside the killer on the ground away. He bends forward, searching Wayne’s pockets, and pulls out a small black box. I assume it’s the jammer and disables it. He doesn’t stop to check if Wayne is really dead.
Meanwhile I’m fumbling with the tight knots around Aunt Viv’s wrists, getting nowhere because my blood is making things slippery and I’m useless with just one hand.
Beckett gently pushes me aside, taking over my attempt to get her loose.
“Talk to Ches,” he orders, taking Viv off my hands entirely. Her dark brown eyes never leave my face. When I try to get my earpiece in, I notice that I’m shaking all over. Adrenaline? Fear? Relief? Pain? I can’t pinpoint it right now.
“Ches?” I say when I finally manage to get it in. “We need medical attention,” I continue, not even waiting for his answer.
“Sending it now,” Chester says, his voice even but panicky all the same. “What happened?”
“Beckett shot me. Wayne’s dead,” I say emotionless, never taking my eyes off Aunt Viv, now untied and getting up from the ground. Her legs are shaking, but she sticks close to me anyway.
“He what?” Chester bellows.
“Shot me.”
“Did he lose his aim?”
“I asked him to.”
“To shoot you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Viv is holding on to me for dear life, pressing kisses against my hair as if I’m one of her own kids, still continuing her chant that it’s over.
“Because I needed to shift Wayne’s attention away from Aunt Viv, and this was the only thing I could think of.”
“And Beckett listened?” The tone of his voice is stabby now, and I almost chuckle.
“Not at first. Had to ask him three times.”
“Goddammit Beckett, why did she have to ask three times?”
Beckett, who has his own earpiece in, joins the conversation. “Are you angry I shot her or angry she had to ask three times?”
“Yes,” Chester yells.
“That wasn’t a yes or no question!” Beckett yells back.
“But the answer is yes anyway!”
I can hear sirens coming closer somewhere in the distance, and I hope it’s the EMTs. They need to check Viv out.
“What’s the damage?” Chester asks, his tone calmer again, obviously talking to me.
“Through and through, shoulder. Nothing vital. Hurts like a bitch,” I answer as if I’m reciting a shopping list instead of talking about the bullet wound I have. And just like that, I start shaking all over, guessing the adrenaline is wearing off.
“Is he really dead?” Aunt Viv says, looking over her shoulder to where Wayne’s body lies motionless. Our shakes kind of synchronize, helping to keep both of us up. But I keep my mouth shut because I don’t know for sure if he’s dead.
Beckett looks me in the eye before tearing himself away from me, going over to Wayne and checking on him. Instead of checking for a pulse, he softly taps Wayne’s foot with his.
“Seems pretty dead to me,” is his conclusion, and I start to chuckle. Aunt Viv gives me a weird look like she can’t believe that I’m laughing. And maybe she’s right. What sane person starts laughing after getting shot, saving her aunt from certain death, and finally catching a serial killer with almost a hundred victims to his name?
The only clear answer is that I’m not sane right now. And that’s okay. The only thing that matters is that we’re all still here, and we’re all going to make it through today.