Creatures of Appetite Page 17

  Kane slipped into bed and poked Scroggins, who was still snoring, with her free hand. He grunted but didn’t wake up.

  “The Iceman is still alive,” Thorne said over the phone.

  “What?”

  “The Iceman is still alive, MacNeil isn’t the Iceman. The Iceman sent me a fax at eleven-thirty. The number I got the fax from is Scroggins’s home number, you understand me? I got a letter from the Iceman and it was faxed FROM Gerry Scroggins’s house!”

  “It’s not Gerry, can’t be …”

  “It’s either him or somebody else is in the house,” Thorne’s phone crackled with static interference.

  Kane noticed the closet door opposite the bed was cracked open just a tiny bit. It hadn’t been open before, that she knew. It had been closed tightly. She’d been looking at it while on top of Gerry. It had definitely been closed. She nudged Scroggins again.

  “Gerry,” Kane whispered. “Wake up.”

  “We can’t get hold of the local PD out there, everything’s fucked because of the blizzard. We’re on the way to you now but we gotta wade through the snow!”

  The closet door slowly creaked open an inch wider and stopped. Kane’s eyes widened. She grabbed her weapon off the nightstand and pointed it at the closet.

  “Kane, you’d better get out of that house!”

  “He’s here,” Kane whispered into her cell phone. “I think he’s here in the room.”

  “Don’t try and take him, Kane, just get out of the house!”

  The closet door creaked open a bit more. Kane set the phone down on the nightstand but left the phone open and connected to Thorne’s call. The end of Kane’s pistol shook. She poked Scroggins with her free hand.

  “Gerry? Gerry, wake up.”

  The closet door creaked open another inch. Kane brought her free hand back to her grip on the pistol and tried desperately to steady her aim. The closet door creaked open an inch more and then in a rush it fell all the way open.

  The dead body of Gerry Scroggins fell out of the bedroom closet and onto the floor, throat cut and eyes staring wide.

  The man in the bed next to Kane suddenly leapt up on top of Kane as she screamed in terror. The Iceman punched Kane in the face and knocked the weapon out of her hand. Kane’s pistol flew across the room and discharged, leaving a bullet in the ceiling of the bedroom and the smell of cordite in the air.

  The Iceman got a hand around her throat and another one around both of her wrists. Kane slid one of her legs out from under him, wedged her foot against his waist and gave a big push. It wasn’t enough to get him completely off but created just enough distance for Kane to free one of her hands.

  “Kane!” Thorne screamed from the cell phone. “Get out of there!”

  Kane punched the Iceman in the face and knocked him off the bed. Kane dove off of the other side of the bed and searched frantically for her weapon.

  It lay on the other side of the room and she scrambled on all fours for it. Just as she put her hand on her weapon, the Iceman kicked it away.

  The Iceman zapped Kane on the side of her neck with an electronic stun gun and knocked her out. He rolled her over onto her back, checked her pulse and opened one of her eyes to take a look at the dilated pupil.

  “Such lovely eyes,” he said.

  “Kane?” Thorne shouted over the cell phone. “KANE!”

  The Iceman picked up the cell phone from the nightstand and delicately hung it up.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “You fucker!” Thorne screamed into the phone. “I’m fucking coming for you, you hear me?”

  Johnson gripped the wheel even tighter as the truck slid on the snow and ice on the highway.

  “Fuck me! Motherfucker!” Thorne slammed his phone into the dash, breaking it.

  Johnson began to lose control of the truck. “I can’t see where I’m … shit!”

  The truck hit a large drift piled up on the highway and then spun into the ditch until they came to a stop with an explosion of snow. Johnson gunned it, the tires spinning, but the truck didn’t move.

  “Goddamn it! Punch it!” Thorne yelled.

  “We’re stuck, the snow’s too heavy, we’ll have to wait for a plow. You didn’t break your phone, did you? How are we gonna call for …”

  “What’s that light over there?” Thorne pointed out into the darkness and blowing snow where a light could just barely be seen.

  “I think it’s a farmhouse or something,” Johnson replied.

  Thorne gave Johnson one of his looks.

  “What?” Johnson asked.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  “Don’t you fucking say a word!”

  An elderly farmer and his wife, both clad in pajamas and bathrobes, stood in their kitchen and watched as Thorne screamed into their telephone.

  Johnson stood shivering, microphone in hand, next to the farmer’s Citizen Band radio. Both Johnson and Thorne were completely covered in snow.

  “Forsythe, I don’t want to hear any of your mealy mouthed SHIT, I don’t care WHO you have to wake up, I want you to … Forsythe? Forsythe? Motherfucker HUNG UP ON ME! MOTHERFUCKER!”

  Thorne threw the telephone furiously across the room into a wall.

  “Told you he didn’t want to talk to you. I finally got hold of Denton PD on the CB,” Johnson said. “Couple of part-time cops. Gerry lives only a couple miles outside of town, they’re gonna swing by as soon as they can.”

  “Would anyone like coffee?” the farmer’s wife asked.

  “They won’t BE there anymore! FUCK!”

  “It’s no problem, if you want some coffee,” she opened the freezer and took out a can of Folgers.

  “I’d love some coffee,” Johnson said.

  “No, you don’t want any fucking coffee, Johnson, we’re moving out of here right now,” Thorne said.

  “To where? Where are we going? If they’re not at Gerry’s house, then where are they?”

  “Only one place it could be but we have very little time. How far are we from town now?” Thorne asked the farmer.

  “A good five, six miles.”

  “Can we borrow your truck? It’s an emergency.”

  “We won’t make it, not even with a truck. We had a truck,” Johnson objected, although he did so carefully, mindful of the evil look in Thorne’s eye. “The plows aren’t even getting through, we got hit with three feet of snow and it’s still coming down.”

  “Then we’ll WALK it, Johnson!”

  “You don’t hafta walk,” the farmer said.

  “I’m not going to just sit … what was that?”

  “I said you don’t hafta walk, if it’s an emergency like you said it was.”

  Thorne looked at the farmer, who in turn looked at Johnson.

  Johnson sighed.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Moments later, in the blinding wind and snow, Thorne drove a large snowmobile wildly through the dark white night, hopefully in the direction of town. Johnson hung on for dear life behind him and wondered what he’d done to deserve such punishment as he was getting at this very moment.

  Chapter Fifty

  Kane opened her eyes and blinked a few times to orient herself. She tried to speak and realized that it was not possible. Her mouth was covered with duct tape. Kane tried to move and realized that she couldn’t do that either.

  She was handcuffed firmly to a metal chair, facing a big metal cooking table.

  Looking around, she recognized where she was, having been all over this place just a few days earlier. She was at Denton Elementary School, in the kitchen of the school cafeteria, to be exact.

  Darcy Mullens sat on the other side of the table opposite of Kane; the young girl’s mouth also taped shut and hands taped to a chair. Darcy’s eyes were wide open with fright and filled with tears.

  The Iceman entered the kitchen, whistling.

  He set a cloth-covered tray on the table between them. He wore surgical gloves on his hands. He stepped to the counter behind the
m, picked up a mini-grill and lugged it over to the table, setting it on top of it. He plugged it in so it could warm up.

  The Iceman unloaded some groceries from a box, setting down green onions, cabbage, flour and eggs next to bowls and plates on the table.

  He took the cloth off of the tray with a flourish, revealing knives of different shapes and sizes. The Iceman sat down next to Darcy, who whimpered in fear. He reached across the table and in one smooth motion ripped the tape from Kane’s mouth.

  Kane gasped, letting out a breath.

  “Why didn’t you want to have dinner with me, Emma?” Jeff Gilday asked.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “I mean, Gerry’s a good guy, but dumb as a rock,” Gilday calmly started chopping up onions. “How could you pick him instead of me for dinner?”

  “In retrospect,” Kane answered, “I can’t help but think that I made the best possible choice.”

  “Barb Mullens did the same thing in high school, chose Gerry over me. Never understood it.”

  “Maybe she was allergic to killers.”

  “I never killed anybody when I was in high school, although I probably should have. Besides, she hooked up with Gerry again a few years ago and he killed people in the war.”

  “They didn’t hook up again, Gerry told me about that. Nothing happened.”

  “Yeah, I was listening and I couldn’t believe you bought that bullshit story. They definitely had an affair years ago. I know because I followed them. Chad caught on and they almost divorced. Him and Barb ended up staying together for this little snot-nosed kid here. Didn’t socialize with Gerry anymore, that’s for damn sure.

  “Gerry liked to spin it as a rumor thing, he played that card really well, but I know better. They were definitely making the beast with two backs. I staked them out. I took pictures. I dropped the note to Chad. I just could not believe it. She picked Gerry over me not once but twice. I was really pissed off.”

  “So you decided to vent a little anger by killing children?” Kane asked.

  “Actually, I primarily wanted this one here,” he gestured to Darcy. “Teach Barb and Gerry a lesson, you know. I couldn’t really start with her, however, too dangerous, so I decided to start west and work my way here. That way by the time I got to her she would be just one victim out of many.

  “I will admit it was a lot more fun than I thought it could be. I had a lot of really great meals in this very kitchen. But Darcy was the one I originally wanted. She has lovely blue eyes, don’t you think? Just like Barb. You know who else has blue eyes like that?”

  “Who?” Kane asked.

  “Come on, you know who. Who were you playing naked twister with a few hours ago?”

  “You think Gerry …”

  “I’m not saying anything, I’m just saying. Different shades of blue, though, and that should be considered. That’s what I think. Gerry sure did get worked up when I took her though, didn’t he? Laughed my ass off, this fucking guy, always acted like his shit didn’t stink. All bullshit and Barb never saw through it.”

  “I thought Gerry was your friend!”

  “Gerry was varsity; he thought everyone was his friend. He was varsity and I was always second string, since we were twelve. That’s what’s so ironic. Tonight was supposed to be a quiet dinner just between Barb and myself, that was the original idea,” Gilday moved on from the onions to the cabbage, chopping with quick deliberate strokes. “Barb Mullens was supposed to be sitting where you are right now.

  “But I just couldn’t believe you picked Gerry over me as well. I couldn’t fucking believe it. As mad as I had been at Barb, I was even more pissed off at you. You didn’t know me as a pimply fucking teenager, you have no excuse in picking Gerry over me. None,” Gilday paused, eyes now hot with anger. “So tonight I cook for you.”

  “You planted everything on McNeil,” Kane stalled, trying to think of something, anything.

  “It was easy, too. I forced him to touch her eye. I thought Thorne would never get the eye clue, for Christ’s sake, I practically had to spell it out for him. Some expert. I also made McNeil share some dinner with me, just in case you checked his stomach contents. He bawled like a baby, but he finished his meal. Put a gun to a person’s head, it’s amazing what they can make themselves do, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know, let me have my gun back and I’ll find out.”

  “Oh, you’ll be finding out, don’t worry.”

  Gilday finished chopping the cabbage. He cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked. Darcy Mullens whimpered again, mucous running down from her nose.

  “For dinner tonight we’ll be starting with seasoned hot blood soup. It comes out hot, did you know that?”

  “How can you do this, Jeff, how can you eat children?”

  “They taste good. It’s not that different from eating veal, really. If fact, it tastes better,” Gilday finished with the eggs and poured some olive oil on the grill. It sizzled.

  “For the entrée, we’ll be having a dish called Okonomiyaki. Japanese, have you heard of it? It’s delicious, a big favorite in Osaka. The best way to describe it would be as a grilled meat and egg pancake with special seasoning. In Japan they use seafood or beef, but of course I have a more flavorful substitute in mind for us.”

  “When did it happen, Jeff?”

  “When did what happen, Emma?”

  “When did the theme music from Looney Tunes start playing nonstop in your head, twenty-four-seven?”

  “I’m not crazy, Emma.”

  “You’re EATING KIDS, Jeff, you crossed the line of sanity a long time ago. You are a fruitcake psycho-killer!”

  Gilday laughed gently. “We’re all killers. You think Gerry was a better man than me, is that why you fucked him on the first date? He killed people in Iraq. We both did, even after the war was over. Especially after it was over, we used to go out at night and shoot any Iraqis we saw, women or children, it didn’t matter.

  “We went hunting for them; just like people here hunt deer during deer season, and it was fun. We killed and sometimes we did more than that. Gerry likes to pretend none of that ever happened, but trust me, it did.

  “You think he was better than me, but he was the same, just dumber and less honest about it. We’re all killers, Kane, in one degree or another. Everything else in life is just a matter of taste and appetite.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You’ll see. Have you ever smelled flesh as it burns?”

  “What?”

  “I first smelled flesh burning in Iraq, during the war. When flesh burns, it smells sweet. Flesh burns sweet and it tastes even sweeter. You’ll soon see.”

  “No! Listen to me, Jeff, don’t do this!”

  Gilday picked up a sharp knife and stood behind Darcy. He put a bowl down in front of her and held the knife close to her throat with his right hand. He took the young girl by the hair with his left hand and forced her to lean forward over the bowl. Darcy’s eyes went wide.

  “Let’s start the soup.”

  “No!” Kane screamed.

  Gilday touched the edge of the blade to Darcy’s throat.

  Glass broke somewhere in another part of the school.

  Gilday put the knife down and listened closely. He stood up.

  “Company. Thorne must have gotten my fax. This could make things interesting.”

  “We’re in the kitchen, help!” Kane yelled.

  Gilday put the duct tape back on Kane’s mouth. Gilday took his pistol out of the holster on his hip and checked it. Reaching behind Kane, he pressed play on a portable CD player on the counter. The Bon Jovi song, “Living On A Prayer,” began to play.

  “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

  Gilday turned off the lights in the kitchen and disappeared.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Thorne and Johnson climbed through a broken classroom window on the first floor. The front end of the snowmobile jutted halfway through the window. At a loss for a way in,
Thorne simply aimed the vehicle at the nearest, largest window.

  The snow had drifted up high enough against the building that they even had to step down in order to get in. The wind blew snow into the room and blew colored cardboard paper everywhere.

  “Are we going to get in trouble for this?” Johnson asked, eyeing the mess.

  “Shhh.”

  Thorne drew his weapon and walked carefully to the classroom door. Johnson followed him awkwardly, bumping into one the lockers lining the wall of the classroom. Thorne glared at him and Johnson mouthed an apology.

  Thorne very carefully opened the classroom door and looked both ways down the dark hallway of the school. Thorne took a few steps into the hall and stopped suddenly. Johnson ran into him. Thorne swiveled and pointed a warning finger at him.

  “Johnson!”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t …”

  “Shut up,” Thorne cut him off with a whisper. Music played from somewhere in the school. He looked around and then pointed at Johnson again.

  “Stay here.”

  “Okay.”

  Thorne started to go, then stopped.

  “Johnson.”

  “What?”

  “Draw your weapon.”

  Johnson clumsily pulled his pistol out from under the snow-clothes he wore.

  “Stay here, don’t make any noise and don’t wander around. You see anybody that isn’t me or Kane, don’t talk, just shoot them, got it?”

  “Yeah, okay, you got it.”

  Thorne looked at him hard for a moment and then carefully stalked down the darkened hallway, his weapon out in front of him. Hunting.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Darcy Mullens stared at Kane, eyes filled with tears and pleading. Bon Jovi wailed on the stereo. Kane strained her arms against the handcuffs behind her, testing them. Kane knew what she had to do and she wasn’t looking forward to it.