Part 56 (1/2)

Naked, he looked up at Ca.s.sie. ”Now, Katrina, it's time.”

”Are you talking to me? I'm not Katrina. Just get me down from here.”

”Always the feisty one,” he said, and walked into the computer room and typed on the keyboard. Instantly, music began to fill the room, music from Innocence Lost, the same music that had been played during the phone call she'd received.

While he was still in the computer room, she frantically tried to find a means of escape. She had to untie herself, but her hands were bound so tightly, she could barely move.

With a clank and a deep whir, the bar on which Ca.s.sie was suspended began to lower, slowly easing her toward the vat of the clear fluid. What was it? It looked like water but it could be anything horrible.

”Hey! No!” Ca.s.sie was screaming now, her bravado failing. ”Let me down, please,” she cried, her voice cracking. ”I've never done anything to you. Please, don't do this!”

He returned from the computer room and stared at her. Didn't say a word, and to Jenna's horror, the closer Ca.s.sie got to the vat, the lower she got, his reaction was just the opposite: his d.i.c.k started to rise.

The pervert was really getting off on this, staring at Ca.s.sie. While his back was turned on Jenna, she scooted closer to the mannequin meant to be Anne Parks, to the knife that was suspended from the mannequin's hand. Only a few more inches, but she was running out of time; the pole on which Ca.s.sie was braced had reached the surface of the liquid. She saw Jenna move.

”Mom! No!”

He spun, eyes glittering.

It was now or never.

Jenna lunged for the mannequin, sending it toppling, the knife even farther from her. Anne's arm hit Paris, and in a domino effect, all of the strange, lifelike replicas of her fell, thudding, jewelry and props skittering across the floor. One mannequin's head twisted upward at an impossible angle.

”No!” he said, spinning, his eyes narrowing on the pile of crumpled mannequins. His hard-on shriveled. ”Leave them alone!” He advanced toward Jenna and the pile of dummies. ”Paris! Marnie! Faye!” he cried, his face twisting in pain before he glared furiously at Jenna. ”Look what you've done! This was your shrine, you thankless b.i.t.c.h!”

Jenna moved as quickly as possible, keeping eye contact with the madman, seeing, in her peripheral vision, the long-bladed knife mere feet away.

Walking swiftly, he seemed to have forgotten Ca.s.sie, who, as her toe hit the surface of the liquid, let out a screeching howl that echoed to the rafters.

”Let her go!” Jenna ordered. ”It's me you want. Obviously. So let her go.”

”I need you both.”

Ca.s.sie was inching into the liquid. s.h.i.+vering. Her naked body trying to twist away. ”Help!” she cried, then squealed in terror.

”Please, Seth,” Jenna said. ”Let her go!”

”I'm not Seth.”

”Steven, then. Please!” She appeared to be moving closer to him, meeting him, supplicating. ”I'll do anything you want. Anything. Just let my daughter go.”

Oh, G.o.d, it was so cold, the water surrounding her felt thick, like gelatin, and was so cold. Ca.s.sie tried to shrink away, to s.h.i.+mmy backward up the pole, but it was no use. She sank lower and lower, her gaze darting from the freezing liquid to her mother and the monster and back to the tank.

Icy water-if that's what it was-crawled up her legs, over her knees, up her thighs.

Carter pulled himself over the edge and rolled into the s...o...b..nk. He gasped for air, ice crystals stinging the exposed parts of his face. Drenched in sweat and s.h.i.+vering, he rolled to his feet, released his cleats, and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Through the trees, the old lodge appeared, a ma.s.sive structure completely covered in snow. Only a few small windows remained, the larger ones boarded over.

He approached with caution, an eerie feeling of dread stealing through his blood as he surveyed the place. No pickup or truck, but a snowmobile was parked near a door and a rescue stretcher had been attached to it.

Grimly, he realized this was how Whitaker brought his victims here. A few lights glowed from the inside through the icy windows, and Carter's guts felt like lead. He reached into his pocket, found his cell phone, and turned it on. Nothing. No signal.

s.h.i.+t.

From his backpack he dragged out his walkie-talkie and hit the b.u.t.ton. A crackle of noise erupted. ”It's Carter-I'm at the lodge, and I think Whitaker's here. Send backup!”

He didn't wait for a response, couldn't risk the time. Stuffing his walkie-talkie into the pack again, he pulled out his sidearm and held it in one hand.

The fingers of his other hand gripped the ice axe.

A scream tore through the woods, a terrified wail erupting from within the building.

Carter didn't think twice.

He kicked open the door, ducked inside, and with his weapon drawn, yelled, ”Police! Freeze!”

What!

Whitaker heard the shout and turned. The lawman was standing in the doorway, gun drawn, aiming at him. Walking toward him as if he had the right.

Jenna let out a gasp of relief that curdled Whitaker's stomach. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when he was so close.

He lunged to one side and hit the ground, rolling over and grabbing Jenna, holding her against him like a human s.h.i.+eld. He had no weapon, but grabbed her neck and twisted.

She cried out.

”I'll kill her, Carter,” he said calmly. ”And then you can shoot the h.e.l.l out of this place, kill me. It won't matter-I'll be with her.”

”Help!” Ca.s.sie cried, and Whitaker chanced a glance her way. She was almost submerged, gasping for breath, the freezing water slowing her reactions, hypothermia setting in.

”Shane, help her,” Jenna cried. ”The controls are in the computer room.”

”Let her go.”

Carter trained his gun on him, but Whitaker didn't care. He'd die with Jenna, take her with him, and he would have reached his goal. Here, with Jenna in his arms.

”I said 'let her go,'” Carter repeated.

”f.u.c.k off,” he growled, and while staring at Carter, held Jenna's head twisted with one arm while fondling her breast with the other. It was heaven.

Gurgling sounds came from the other side of the room. Ca.s.sie was drowning, and the lawman couldn't stop it.

Jenna bucked. All of her body convulsing, her tied hands flailing. Whitaker saw Carter s.h.i.+ft, and he tightened his grip on Jenna, wrenching her neck.

The pain was excruciating, but Jenna didn't care. Ca.s.sie was drowning. In front of her eyes. And the knife was only inches from her hand. She threw herself up at her attacker, throwing all of her weight against him, her hands sc.r.a.ping the concrete, breaking nails. She found the hilt of the knife, picked it up in both hands, and turned, slas.h.i.+ng wildly, her head feeling as if it would fall off.

Whitaker yelped. Ca.s.sie sputtered.