Page 86 of Shattered
I had been tracking my next target for some time. I knew his habits; he went to the Dahlia District, and when he couldn’t get what he wanted, he came to the Grove, the new dwelling to replace Ivy Ledge Bridge, and found a sex worker to be a substitute. He took her down the road and they completed the transaction. If she so much as asked about her money, he decreased it, sometimes adding a backhand to the face. Wealthy men were often the cheapest of the lot, unwilling to part with their money for a service rendered, not unless it was an object they could keep.
And these women had voices that spoke back.
When I checked with my informant to see if Irvine had done what he had claimed, if he had killed one of them, I had learned that the woman had been hospitalized for what he had done, but she had suffered a stroke while in recovery. That was no matter to me; the details could be fuzzy. He might not have deliberately killed a woman, but he had hurt her badly enough to be hospitalized. And if that wasn’t sick enough, he hadbraggedabout it.
When we came upon them, I smiled. My informant’s friend had done just as I asked: lured him outside of his comfort zone and into mine. Away from the Grove, away from Ivy Ledge Bridge. Down to the secluded rest stop near the coast. I parked behind them and put on my mask and gloves, tucked the crowbar in the back of my pants. I could see the faint outline of the man tilting his head back, resting it on the headrest, losing himself in the moment.
I opened the driver’s side door and he startled, shoving the woman’s head out of the way so he could button his pants.
“What the—”
I punched his face, then yanked his body out of the seat. Took the crowbar and slammed it into his head, enough to knock him out. The woman gasped for air in shock, as if I had sucked it out of her with that movement. I motioned to the side.Get out of my way.
“Angel,” she said.
“Go,” I said. She shrunk at the mechanical voice, not expecting its coldness. “Go!” This time, she grabbed her purse and ran in the direction they had come. I watched until she was out of view. Irvine started stirring, slowly regaining consciousness. I worked quickly, shoving his body around so that I could restrain his wrists, then pulled his heavy body upright. I hoisted a long cord around his neck, pulling him to stand with it. He startled awake.
“The fuck—” he gasped. He turned his head, barely seeing the curve of my masked face. “Shit! Shit!” he sputtered out.
“I didn’t need the confirmation,” I said in his ear, “but I got it anyway. I stick to my rules. For that, you should be grateful. A lesser psychopath would have killed you sooner.”
“Please don’t—”
“Where did the bravery go?” I growled. “The bravado? Your intense mockery of the Angel. Your false courage to get away with it. Your bragging rights of killing innocent women.” I shoved the crowbar into his back; he flinched and cried out. “But you didn’t get away with it, did you? Not if I’m here.”
“I’ll give you anything,” he said, his words garbled. He jerked his elbows to the side, trying to get loose, but the cords only dug into his wrists tighter, making his hands go numb. “You want money? I’ve got money. A house? Cars? Girls? I’ll give you anything. Anything you want. Just let me go!”
Using the cord taut in my hands, wrapped around his neck, I brought him around to the back of my car, barely letting him breathe. When I popped the trunk open, Melissa’s eyes blinked, adjusting to the light. Then her eyes widened. The ball gag was no longer in her mouth, the sphere bulging into her neck.
“What are you doing, Rourke?” she cried.
Making sure she saw who it was, I held him there for a second, defenseless.
“Mel—” he started, but I pulled the cord tighter and tighter, letting her see the horror of a man fighting for his life. The thrashing will to survive, the fight increasing, his elbows flailing as if he could fly out of it. Feet stumbling. The flash of light in his eyes. The desperation to live. Begging her to help him. To not let this be the last time he breathed air.
My grip strengthened around the cords, feeling nothing, not even the wounds healing in my palms. The ultimate control outweighed all.
But I saw her, only her.
She looked away.
It only took a minute, maybe less, for him to lose consciousness. His body fell limp, still strung up by the cord, and I held him like that, his head pulled up on the marionette strings. Tighter and tighter still, I waited until I knew there wouldn’t be anything left to recover. The lack of air for a few minutes caused the brain permanent damage. Six or more resulted in death.
Melissa was sobbing now, but I heard only my own breath. Calm. Steady.
When I knew that he was dead, I laid him on the ground, putting the used cord in my pocket. I stood slowly, and Melissa stilled, her wide eyes gazing up at me. I took my knife out and cut the cord around her feet, then the one at her wrist. She stayed frozen in place, not wanting to disturb the peace, debating which moves she could risk. There was nothing she was willing to do yet. Not anymore.
My face clung to the leather as I pulled off the mask. The cold air rushed at my damp skin, and suddenly, I could hear her again, her panting breath. I could see the fear in her eyes clearly.
It was the first time she was actually afraid of me.
“Tell the police that I killed all of them, even Aldrich,” I said. “Tell them everything you know.” She shook her head and I pointed down the road. “The highway is a mile in that direction. Someone will pick you up.”
“Please, Rourke. I don’t—”
If I had been in a better mood, I would have laughed at her stupidity. At her blind faith in me. At her desire to still want to make it work, to make sense of it. To make sense of me.
But all I could think about was letting her go. Making her leave. Forcing her to never look back.
“I’ve always known that I would end up dead or in prison,” I said, interrupting her incoherent speech. “I will never be a person that society accepts. I will only be this.” I looked around, then faced her gaze once again. Those blank brown eyes stared at me, wanting so much more. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn me in. Clear your name. Be free of me.” She stammered, her lips quivering, but the words wouldn’t come out. I reached into the trunk and she shrank away, but I held her arm, pulling her upright, making her face me. Forcing her to look me in the eyes.
Those dark eyes searched me, afraid. So damn afraid.
“My name,” I said, “is Garrett William Rourke. This is who I am.”
I lifted her by the arms and set her on the ground. She stepped around the body, glanced at me once, then she ran, and never looked back.
