Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
VES
Getting two alphas to leave the local police station was a lot harder than I anticipated.
It took a couple of hours just to get Lennox and Baron to calm down enough to listen to me, let alone get out of here, but I can’t have them around for this.
What I’m about to do, they don’t need to be a part of, pack or not.
Baron already has a record, one that does him no favors when it comes to things like this.
It’s why they questioned him for such a long time when he turned in the severed feet we found at the beach.
And Lennox? His mother is enough of a reason for him to steer clear.
The assumptions that can be made based on her experience means he’s out, too.
Besides, I need them with Cali and Arlo right now.
And I’m going to need a strong alibi.
Our omega will need to be soothed, he’ll need to be calmed down and shown Cali and he are both safe, and my daughter needs to feel like she’s protected and cared for when I’m not around. I know they make her feel that way, but considering what I’m about to do, the point has to be driven home.
What I’m about to do could land my ass in prison.
I don’t give a shit, though.
I vowed a long time ago that if anyone ever tried to lay a hand on my daughter ever again, they’d pay for it with their life. My ex included.
So, I’m taking this as an opportunity to kill two birds, so to speak.
I hit a pothole in my rental, grinning to myself over the muffled moan I hear as I barrel toward the Anza-Borrego Desert.
I’ve been very busy since my alphas and I went our separate ways, and not only will I feel better about handling the situation that began at the show, I’m considering this little fieldtrip scientific research.
A case study, if you will.
I took my alphas back to the hotel, even walked them in so the cameras got my good side and once I was sure Baron and Lennox were in the room, I slipped out through the only exit on our floor without any surveillance.
I already finessed the cops on duty to hang onto Corvus until I was ready to transport him to the local FBI office, so I went out in search of supplies while that bastard sat and rotted.
I hit several stores, ones I’ve already been frequenting since staying here, making purchases to help me with my experiment while avoiding cameras and paying only in cash.
I even managed to rent a car using my FBI credentials under a fake name, and put it on Corvus’ credit card so he’ll take the fall before I do.
After a quick search of the area, I picked what I thought would be the best place to run my theory, grabbed my subject, suited up, and started driving.
We’re almost to our destination.
I tear through the desert and go as far out as possible, getting the two of us away from any prying eyes as I can. When I feel like I’m there, I come to a screeching halt and chuckle when Corvus goes crashing into the back of the driver’s seat.
I throw the car in park and cut the engine, quickly getting out and heading to the trunk as I pull the goggles and mask down over my face.
I spread the tarp over the ground, carefully setting my tools on it one by one, my thoughts racing with which I want to use first.
Which is where the experiment comes into play.
I imagine The Orphan has a similar process, one nearly identical to mine, and this is helping me get into his head better than I’ve been able to before.
He might not be avenging his child—I’ve profiled him as single and someone who doesn’t really want children—but he’s avenging something.
Someone most likely. His vengeance is reserved for those who’ve wronged kids, who’ve abused their power in some way and hurt some of the most vulnerable people there are.
The Orphan most likely plans ahead like this, buys everything he needs, wears a suit and protective gear like I am that leave no room for trace evidence.
His identity is completely hidden, his DNA a mystery to everyone but him.
I’m dressed as though I’m cleaning up a crime scene instead of creating one, but that’s how it needs to be. No hairs, fibers, prints or particles.
I’m sealed up tight and sweating my ass off despite the cooler temp out here, and I don’t doubt my topic of study does the same thing.
There’s never any trace of him, and there can’t be any trace of me.
I go back to the rental and open the back door, grabbing Corvus by the ankles and yanking him out hard enough to knock the wind out of him when he hits the ground. His eyes are wide and wild, full of fear as I begin dragging him toward the tarp.
I injected him with a high dose of a homemade paralytic but made sure the fucker would be awake for every second of this. I don’t want him to miss a thing.
As soon as he’s laid out next to the tarp, I begin taking his clothes off, ripping the fabric and putting it in ziplock baggies before setting those on the blue vinyl. I keep his hands and feet bound, cutting his clothes when I need to, then decide to really deep dive into my case study.
I move Corvus’ limp body around like a doll, positioning him on his knees, leaning over a large, prickly, dried out bush, my smile growing when he sobs around his gag.
“What? Not a fan of being on your hands and knees when there aren’t any little kids around to grab?” I spit the words as I secure him in place, thinking about the rage I feel and how The Orphan must feel the same despite the amount of control he exercises. “You are one sick son of a bitch, Corvus.”
I get to my feet and walk back to my selection of instruments, deciding to really embrace the serial killer I’ve been studying.
Crouching down, I hover my palm over the various choices I have, moving my hand back and forth until a particular case flashes through my mind.
“I looked into you, you know,” I say as I grab the meat cleaver and turn, shuffling back toward Corvus, who is currently pissing all over the ground underneath him.
“Three years for exposing yourself on school property. Two for doing it again at a playground. There were sixteen allegations of child abuse in your file, going as far back to when you were a kid. Younger cousins, was it? Guess that’s why you’re an only child.
” I squat next to him, looking over his face as terror paints his expression when I tap the blade against the side of his head.
“You aren’t supposed to be around children at all, Corvus.
I can’t imagine working as a performer in a troupe that brings you near them was a good choice, was it? ”
He tries to shake his head emphatically, barely cringing every time the little dry barbs dig into his flesh.
“Exactly. It was a bad idea. Very bad, and now you’re going to have to pay for making that decision.”
I scoot down some and grab a fistful of his thigh, waiting until he forces himself to look back at what I’m doing.
“A pound of flesh should do it, don’t you think?” The blade sinks into the side of his leg like butter, the first layer slicing clean off and falling to his ground with a plop. “No? You’re right. What are you, one fifty, one fifty five? I think that should suffice.”
Corvus starts to shake as I continue slicing, layer after layer of skin stacking up until I see bone. I finish with his left thigh and notice Corvus is barely conscious, so I go back to the tarp and grab the airhorn and spray bottle, hitting him with both and laughing when he jumps.
I squat on his right, grinning behind my mask and tilting my head when his lolls toward me. “I don’t want you to miss any of the fun. Gotta stay for the encore, isn’t that right?”
After god knows how long, I’ve removed the skin from both of his legs, arms, back and stomach, and I stare down at my tools with my hands on my hips.
“What next?” I say, knowing Corvus can’t hear me. He’s next to dead already, but I need one final touch to continue making this look like a copy cat.
We withheld the info about The Orphan’s victim assisting in removing their own skin, and we’ve never said anything about the notes.
I grab the creepy doll I bought and tear the head off, poking out the eyes before I pick up a roman candle and stuff one end into the neck hole. I walk back to Corvus, noting the death rattle that’s starting up in his chest, then crouch down by the bastard’s bare backside.
“Someone should have done this sooner,” I growl as I ram the opposite end of the roman candle up his ass. “Maybe you wouldn’t have turned out to be such a sick fucker.”
I light the fuse hanging out of the doll’s neck, stand and start backing away.
I watch until the thing explodes, lighting Corvus up like the fourth of July, pieces of his ass flying with little splatter since he’s been bleeding out for hours.
I look over my work a moment longer, nodding in approval, enjoying the immense satisfaction swelling in my chest before I start cleaning up.
I wipe down my suit and put everything in ziplock bags, careful to stay on the tarp the entire time, bagging up everything I brought with me the same way before putting it all back into the duffle.
Pulling on a second full body protective suit, gloves and booties, I have a moment of panic over passing out on the drive back, but I can’t leave any trace of anything in the car until I decide what I’m going to do with it.
I might not have the experience The Orphan does, but I’ve been living in his head for a long time, at this kind of work even longer, and I can only hope all of that is going to pay off.
No matter what happens, I did this for my daughter, and I can rest easy knowing that.