The Killing Kind (8 page)

He looked down at her again. “You killed my friend.”

Julie coughed again and cleared her throat. “I didn’t have a choice. Look, you don’t have to force me to do anything. I’ll do whatever you want. I’m sorry about your friend.”

The man’s teeth were clenched tight. His whole body shook with rage. He closed a hand around her throat and began to squeeze. “You fucking whore. Fucking little slut.
You killed my only friend!
”

A detached part of Julie’s mind marveled over the absurdity of a man as depraved as this stone psycho feeling grief for the loss of anyone. But the emotion did appear genuine. His eyes watered. A thin stream of moisture began to move down one cheek. The pressure on her throat increased and Julie’s vision began to blur. Realizing she was likely in her last moments of life, she thought maybe she ought to ask God for forgiveness. She had allowed a number of evil and wicked thoughts and ideas to live and breathe inside her brain. Surely God would frown on that. But before she could begin to consciously form her plea, the pressure on her throat eased up again. She blinked moisture from her eyes and stared up at the curious sight of a man listening to something only he could hear.

His head was tilted to one side and his brow was furrowed. He stared up at the ceiling. He shook his head and said, “No. It’s not right.”

Julie frowned.

What the fuck?

The man shook his head again. “No. She killed Clyde.” His mouth twisted in a scowl. “I know. I always listen to you, Lulu. But this cunt has to die.”

Lulu?

Julie almost laughed. This deranged, sick fuck was hearing voices. Voices telling him not to kill her.

Hooray for mental illness!

The man’s shoulders sagged. “All right. Yes. Okay.”

Julie summoned a smile. “It really is okay. You’ll see. I’ll—”

She didn’t get to finish the thought.

The man cocked a fist and slammed it into the side of her head, turning out the lights for a while.

March 22

Chuck needed some time away from Zoe. She was giving off a weird, standoffish vibe. That coldness was nothing new. It’d been going on for months, but had become worse recently. She didn’t always refuse his advances, but getting her to shed her clothes took a lot more work than it once had. And it was getting to be pretty goddamn frustrating. It didn’t take a genius to see where things were going. They were almost over. It bummed him out. They had been together a long time. It wasn’t the end of the world, he guessed. He was young and good-looking. There would be other girls. Hotter girls, even. The idea of exploring all that fresh meat once he and Zoe were finally, really through had its appeal.

Still.

Here they were. Probably on their last vacation together. They should be having one last good fling, along with a lot of wild vacation sex. He couldn’t help thinking of Christmas break at his parents’ house. Zoe had been insatiable that week. The frequency. All those different positions. The crazy experimenting. Hard to believe that was only a few short months back. Now he was lucky if she let him fuck her once a week. He’d probably been stupid to hope she would knock off the frigid routine for vacation.

He knocked on the bathroom door. “Hey, babe. I need some fresh air. I’ll be back in a bit.”

A muffled voice answered from the other side. “All right.”

The monotone reply made him linger at the door a moment longer before departing. He wondered how she would have sounded if he’d said, “Hey, babe, I’m going outside to step in front of a bus.”

Would he hear that same dead voice say “all right” to that as well?

He thought he would.

Fuck.

This was crazy. The situation was starting to get to him. He felt like he was on the verge of a genuine depressive episode, which was way unlike him. His eyes misted a bit. He knew he had to get out of there before he had some kind of embarrassing breakdown. He left the motel room without another word, barely resisting the impulse to slam the door on the way out.

Damn her, anyway.

He wanted to be all macho about this. All blustery and don’t-give-a-shit, the way he was with everything else. But that was turning out to be harder than he’d imagined.

His thoughts turned back to earlier in the day and that incident with the goth chick. He’d given her a hard time for no good reason. Oh, he sort of half-believed the bullshit explanation he’d spewed earlier, but the real truth was more pathetic. The girl was just a victim of his frustrations. He was upset about the way things were going with Zoe and so he’d vented some of his anger on a stranger. The girl had just been unlucky enough to line up in his sights at exactly the wrong time. Thinking about it now, he felt bad.

Sorry, whoever you were.

He lit a cigarette and leaned against the second-floor-balcony railing. The rental van was parked directly below. A neon vacancy light blinked and fizzed at the other end of the motel’s half-full parking lot. The original plan had been
to make the trip to Myrtle Beach in one long day of driving. But there’d been too much fucking around and drinking going on for that to happen. The numerous lengthy pit stops to drain overinflated bladders hadn’t helped matters. Chuck was a little bummed about not being able to wake up in Myrtle Beach the next morning, but in truth he was grateful for the opportunity to get off the road. He was looking forward to a good night’s rest. Hell, who knew? Maybe a fresh sunrise would wash away all the bad feelings of the day and allow for a fresh start. Probably not, but a guy could hope.

He stubbed the cigarette out and flicked the butt over the side. Just as he was turning away from the railing to go back inside, a door to his left opened and Emily Sinclair stepped outside. She saw him and smiled. That was a little odd. She didn’t spare a smile for him too often. Never, in fact. She left the door to her room partly open and joined him at the railing.

She tapped the cigarette pack in his hand with a glossy nail. “Give me one of those.”

Chuck laughed. “Well, as long as you’re asking nicely…”

He passed the pack to her. She tapped a cigarette out and placed it between her plump lips.

She stared at him.

Chuck laughed again and lit her cigarette. She turned her head slightly and blew a stream of smoke just past his face. She smiled again. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Chuck leaned against the railing again. No point going back inside now. Zoe was probably still in the bathroom, hiding away from him. And Emily was actually being sort of friendly toward him, an extremely rare thing. As long as she didn’t mind his company, he would stay out here.

Emily leaned over the railing and stared in the direction of the malfunctioning neon sign. “So…Chuck?”

He glanced at her. “Yeah?”

She exhaled more smoke and still didn’t look at him. “Wanna fuck me?”

Chuck’s jaw dropped open. He turned fully toward her and stared at her in astonished silence for several moments. If she’d suggested he join her in a conspiracy to assassinate the president, he would not have felt this flabbergasted. After a while, he managed a nervous laugh. “You’re fucking with me. Right?”

She smiled, but still didn’t look at him. “Nope.”

He frowned. “But…you’re Zoe’s best friend.”

“That’s right.”

His frown deepened. “What kind of friend comes on to her best friend’s boyfriend?”

Emily dropped the half-smoked cigarette and extinguished it with the tip of a high-heeled shoe. “The horny kind, Chuck.”

“This is crazy. What about Joe?”

Emily indicated the partly open door behind her with a jerk of her head. “Take a look in there. But be quiet about it.”

Still frowning, Chuck stepped past her and peered through the small opening. Joe was on the bed. He was naked. His wrists were tied to the brass headboard. He was blindfolded. A pair of red panties had been stuffed into his mouth as a gag. Loud snoring indicated unconsciousness, which wasn’t surprising given the amount of beer the guy had consumed. Chuck’s pulse ticked upward and his face reddened. Seeing his best friend like this was embarrassing as hell. He became aware of a presence behind him and gasped when Emily pressed herself against him and reached around to grab his crotch. The erection was immediate and painful. She squeezed it through his jeans and gave it a hard twist, eliciting another gasp.

Her breath was hot against his ear as she whispered, “Get your keys and meet me down at the van.”

Then she was gone. Chuck turned away from the door and stared after her retreating form. She cut an amazing figure in that tight black dress, with curves much more pronounced than Zoe’s. She started down the stairs to the first floor, disappearing from view within seconds.

Chuck stared at the empty space where she’d been a moment longer.

I shouldn’t do this. It’s not right.

But then he thought about Zoe and how cold she had become. It’d been more than a week now since they’d last had sex. Hell, wasn’t it possible they’d already fucked for the last time?

He thought about Emily.

That killer figure.

Those long, long legs…

He went back into his room and retrieved his keys from the nightstand. Zoe was still locked away in the bathroom. If she’d been waiting for him in bed, his ultimate decision might have been different. He loved Zoe. He wanted to fix things between them. But he knew it wasn’t happening.

So he went downstairs.

Emily was leaning against the van. She looked up and smiled as he approached. “When you’re inside me, think about how much it’d hurt Zoe to know about this.”

Chuck grabbed her and kissed her. She hooked a leg around him and they writhed against the van for several moments. She felt so good. So alive. So
hot.
He whimpered as she reached into his jeans and seized his erection. At last they broke the embrace and Chuck fumbled with the keys. The electronic lock beeped and he threw the side door open. Emily climbed into the van’s dark interior and shoved the seat back to make room. Chuck followed her inside. Emily
was already tugging his pants down as he slid the door shut. He peeled his shirt off and fell atop her. The clingy black dress came off after she rolled him over and straddled him. She wasn’t wearing panties. Of course not.

Then he was inside her and groaning.

And he did what she said.

He thought of Zoe.

The experience was agony and ecstasy intermingled and overlapping, and it ended with Chuck crying as Emily held him and laughed softly.

March 22

They stopped for the night shortly after crossing the state line into North Carolina. Rob was pretty sick of driving by then, but the relief he felt at the prospect of being off the road was tempered by a deep anxiety over what she had in mind for him now that this leg of the journey was done. He had watched her kill five people. He had no illusions. He was nothing to her. Just one more corpse-in-waiting. Roxie was remorseless and ruthless. A monster hiding in a pretty girl’s skin.

After leaving the interstate, they stopped at an ATM first to drain some money from Rob’s checking account. Roxie pocketed the thick wad of twenties and directed Rob to a motel a mile down the road from the ATM.

They pulled up at the curb outside the lobby. The Weaver Inn was a dump. Rob didn’t need to see inside the rooms to know that. The poorly tended grounds were evidence enough, as was the building’s grubby exterior. The nearly empty parking lot was another strong indicator. The place was
seedy.

Roxie took the key from the ignition. “Sit tight and keep your mouth shut. I’ll have an eye on you the whole time. Anybody tries to talk to you, you don’t respond. Let them think you’re a rude asshole. You listening to me, Robin?”

That again.

The bratty little insult. The intent was to emasculate
him. That was a joke. Hadn’t she already thoroughly unmanned him? Now she was just being a bitch and rubbing it in. He felt a little flare of anger, but it fizzled quickly. He was no match for her on any level. Taking the bait would only get him in a world of hurt.

He forced a nod. “I’m listening.”

“Good. Hey, Robin?”

“Yeah?”

“Fucking up isn’t an option. Draw attention to yourself, try anything dumb, and I start killing every motherfucker in sight. And that definitely includes you. Okay?”

What else could he say? He shrugged. “Okay.”

Roxie got out of the Galaxie and kicked the door shut. The male desk clerk’s gaze was riveted to her from the moment she stepped out of the car. He was a young guy. Barely more than a teenager. Like Roxie. His mouth hung open as he watched her push one of the glass lobby doors open and strut right up to the desk. Even though she’d traded her goth goddess outfit for more subdued garb, she was still sexy as hell. But it was a dangerous kind of sexy. The swivel of her hips in those tight jeans. The way the equally tight, low-scooped T-shirt emphasized her jutting breasts. It was a lethal package, the kind that renders most guys instantly helpless, rendering them vulnerable to just about any level of temptation. The kind that made happily married men break wedding vows without a second thought. The kind that would make some men willing to die for her. Or even kill for her.

But not me,
Rob thought.
I’m a more or less normal guy caught up in something I can’t control. I’m many things, but I am not a killer. There’s a limit to what I’ll endure or do for this girl.

Roxie leaned precariously over the desk, presenting her breasts in a way that ensured the clerk’s attention was on nothing else. She laughed at something he said and her
breasts jiggled. The poor desk clerk looked like he might faint. The kid wiped sweat from his brow and gave Roxie something to sign. Roxie signed and peeled some twenties from the wad of Rob’s money. The kid took the money but didn’t bother to count it—he was too entranced by the sight of Roxie’s round behind as she strutted back out of the lobby.

“You made that kid’s day with your sex-kitten routine,” Rob said when she was back in the car.

Roxie pulled the door shut. “I know. We’re in room one nineteen, down at the end.”

She put the key in the ignition and gave it a twist. The engine came vibrantly to life, filling the lonely patch of rural night with its throaty roar. Rob put the car in gear and drove down to the far end of the lot, pulling into a space directly in front of room 119. Roxie took the key from the ignition again and dropped it in her bag. She then dug another key out of a pocket and unlocked the handcuffs. The handcuffs also went in the bag. Rob groaned and rubbed his aching right wrist.

Roxie smiled. “Oh…was that too tight? Did I hurt you, Robin?”

Rob didn’t say anything. He stopped rubbing his wrist and stared at the door to 119. They’d be inside the room within moments. He took a look around, checking out the withered shrubs lining the sidewalk, the sliver of moon visible in the clear night sky above him, and the wavy outlines of dark trees in the distance. It was possible these things constituted his last glimpse of the natural world. The motel room’s interior could well be the last thing he ever saw. Not a terribly inspiring possible final vision. He didn’t want to get out of the car.

Roxie said, “Get out of the car. Now.”

His hand went to the door handle ahead of any conscious thought. Then he thought of something. “Oh, wait.”

He pushed a button inset in the dash just below the steering wheel, triggering a grinding, ratcheting sound that made Roxie gasp in surprise. But she relaxed when she saw the car’s top unfold from the back and stretch out above them. The top thunked down. Rob pulled it into place and secured the corner on his side with a latch. They got out of the car after Roxie fastened the latch on her side.

Rob took one last wistful look around and followed Roxie across the sidewalk. She unlocked the door to room 119 with an old-fashioned metal key, the Weaver Inn apparently being too poor to invest in electronic-card lock technology. Rob followed her into a cramped space furnished with a single queen-size bed, a recliner, a small table, and two rickety chairs.

Roxie closed and locked the door. She set her bag on the table and looked at Rob. “Get on the bed. Lie flat on your back.”

Rob’s breathing quickened. “Wh-what…? I don’t—”

She came at him fast, too fast to react, slamming a fist into his solar plexus. It was a devastatingly hard blow, her strength and fury stunning him again. In the instant before he toppled backward, he saw her eyes and got a look at that same wild expression he’d glimpsed as she’d bludgeoned that guy to death in the gas station bathroom.

This is it. I’m about to die.

Then his back hit the mattress and he bounced. The bed squeaked and the brass headboard thumped against the wall. Roxie moved to the side of the bed and stared down at him. “What have I told you about not doing what I say?”

Rob grimaced as another knot of pain formed in his gut. He groaned and writhed slightly. “Oh, God. That fucking hurts. I learned my lesson. Swear to fucking God.”

She smirked. “Good.”

She grabbed one of the chairs from the table and set it on
the floor next to the bed. She straddled the chair and wrapped her arms around the back of it. “We’ve got some things to talk about.”

Rob groaned again and looked at her. “Yeah?”

Roxie smiled. “I’m gonna ask you some questions. I expect absolute truthfulness. Remember what I told you earlier. I hate liars. Here’s a fact. I can tell when people are lying. I am never fucking wrong. I’ll hurt you every time you lie to me. Lie enough and I’ll fucking kill you. Clear?”

Rob let out a big breath. The pain in his gut was beginning to recede. “Crystal. I’m all out of fight, I promise.”

She laughed. “Really? Oh, by fight, do you mean that tendency to run your mouth you had before I put you in your place?”

“Yeah. That.”

Another laugh,
very
amused this time. “Okay. First question. You’ve been gone all day. Who’s gonna miss you first? Look me in the eye when you answer.”

Rob looked at her. He cleared his throat and spoke in a calm, measured tone. “My roommate. Lindsey.”

Roxie arched a brow. “Your roommate’s a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“And she’s just a roommate. Not your girlfriend?”

Rob shook his head. “No.”

“You’ve never fucked her? Not even once?”

Another shake of his head. “No.”

Roxie frowned. “Why not? Is she ugly?”

“No. She’s very cute.”

“Are you fucking gay?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Something doesn’t add up.”

Rob shrugged. “I just…well, we’ve known each other forever. Since we were kids. We’ve just always been great friends. I like being friends with her. I’d hate to ruin it by…well, you know.”

Roxie made a face. “Does she have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Rob didn’t say anything.

Roxie’s look of disgust deepened. “Jesus. You fucking moron. Anyway. I’m gonna need you to call her. Think you can come up with a good cover story for your absence?”

“Probably.”

“Good. We’ll take care of that in a few minutes. Next question. I assume you have a job. Did I cause you to miss going in, or were you off today?”

Rob opened his mouth to reply, but hesitated a beat. Roxie noticed it. Her eyes sharpened. He saw her muscles tense and knew she was on the brink of another violent explosion. He quickly decided against the lie he’d briefly considered telling. “I was off today. I work tomorrow. It’s my uncle’s company. If I don’t call him with some excuse, he’ll worry. He’s the closest thing I’ve got to a parent these days. So he’s pretty lax with me, far as the job goes. I could tell him I decided to take off for a bit and he’d probably buy it.”

Roxie unclasped her hands and drummed her fingers lightly against the back of the chair. “Hmm. Okay. So you’ll call him, too. Tell him something believable. Something to buy us enough time to change cars and get farther down the road.”

Change cars?

Rob was bewildered.

His car was the whole reason he was on the road with her in the first place. He could see her wanting to ditch the Galaxie. It was too conspicuous. But wouldn’t that mean his usefulness to her was over? Maybe not. Because it sounded like she meant to keep him around a while. He couldn’t figure it out. To what end?

Or maybe,
he thought,
she just put it that way to put my mind at ease while she figures out her next move.

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but a
tentative knock at the door caused her head to snap around. “Who is it?”

There was the muffled sound of a throat clearing. “Uh…it’s, um…me.”

Rob didn’t recognize the voice. He frowned. “Come on, you’re not really expecting anyone out here in the middle of nowhere, are you?”

“Shut up.”

Roxie got up and went to the door. She peered through the peephole and grinned. She glanced back at Rob. “It’s party time.”

She opened the door and Rob saw the awkward, lanky desk clerk standing there. Roxie seized him by a wrist and pulled him inside. She threw the door shut and pushed the boy toward the bed.

“Hey, honey…”

Rob guessed he was “honey.”

So fucking weird.

What’s going on?

“This is Billy. He works here. I told him he could party with us tonight. You don’t mind, do you?”

Rob had no idea what to say. Not a clue what her expectations were. “Um…yeah. Whatever. I guess.”

Billy wasn’t paying any attention to him. He was too busy ogling Roxie’s tits. “Yeah…uh, I called this guy, Earl. He works here, too. Days. He came in to cover my shift. But I didn’t mention you, like you said. Told him my brother was in the hospital.” He forced himself to look at her face. “So I’m now free to, uh…party.”

Roxie beamed at him. “That’s so awesome!”

Billy grinned back. “Hell, yeah.”

His gaze went helplessly back to her tits.

So of course he never saw it coming.

Roxie punched him in the throat and he crumpled to the floor, gagging as he curled into a ball.

Rob sat up. “Jesus, not again. Don’t kill him!”

Roxie glanced at him. “Sit back like a good little bitch and watch the show. Unless you want this to be you.” Her smile was broad, a gleaming display of perfectly aligned white teeth with only the faintest hint of nicotine staining. “Is that what you want?”

The boy on the floor was crying softly.

Rob looked at him.

Then looked at Roxie—and saw the deadly eagerness in her eyes.

His shoulders sagged.

Roxie laughed. “That’s what I thought.”

She went to the table and took something from her bag. Rob saw what it was and squeezed his eyes shut. He did not want to see this. Not one bit of it. He’d seen enough terrible things today.

“Watch.”

A command. Disobedience was not an option.

He opened his eyes.

Watched.

And felt another indelible stain form on his soul.