Her Shallow Grave (Detectives Kane and Alton)

As usual, he’d laid out a set of clean clothes for her. Now she understood where they all came from; she’d been wearing the garments from any number of dead women, women he’d slaughtered. It took all her effort to push the graphic images of the previous night from her mind. If she wanted to live, she had to act normal. She smothered a sob and shaking, hurried through her shower, dressed, and headed back to the kitchen. Her mind swum with ideas of how to escape but first she needed to keep up the charade. Making him believe his murders interested her would be difficult but she’d been homeless for a time and had soon learned the ability to talk to people to get a handout or a bed for the night. With men, showing interest in their lives made them easier to manipulate but Preacher was smart and would likely catch on if she wasn’t careful. He wasn’t the kind of man anyone could deceive. When she sat at the table, a strong smell of bleach wafted from Preacher. “Have you been cleaning?”

“Yeah.” Preacher didn’t restrain her and filled a cup with coffee and placed it on the table before the cream and sugar. “When I complete a work of art, I clean the cellar with bleach and then my truck. I like to make sure no trace of them remains.”

Trying to keep it all together but with her heart pounding so fast, she thought she might have a stroke, she nodded. “That’s a good idea. But you keep the clothes, wouldn’t that be a problem?”

“No, I wash them and they’re generic. Anything unusual I burn. I burn my coveralls and boots as well. That’s the stink outside, those rubber boots smell something awful when they burn.” Preacher served up ham and eggs. “Eat before it gets cold.” He took a plate and sat opposite, examining her face. “We’ll leave the next one for a few days. You look a little pale. It’s the excitement, I guess.” He frowned. “Maybe we shouldn’t go out today.”

What and lose the

chance to escape you? I’m not the crazy one here. Ava wasn’t hungry, her head was spinning and her stomach was trying to turn itself inside out. She sipped her coffee. Not eating would be a mistake, a big mistake. “I’m fine. I can’t wait to hunt down another Delores but first tell me about you. I want to know everything.” She forced the corners of her mouth up. If smiling kept her alive, she’d smile at him until her jaw ached. “You’ve had such an interesting life. How many Delores artworks are there?”

“Many, maybe a hundred.” Preacher ate slowly watching her mouth. “All slightly different. It wasn’t like that at first. It took some time to work out how to make them smile and then it was easy.”

Ava nodded feigning interest. “So why homeless girls like me?” She met his dead eyes. “Or is it the ink that attracts you?”

“Both. The color of hair, size and ink but I take the homeless ones because they’re waste. Nobody wants them and I’m doing a service removing them from the welfare system.” He looked at her. “You’re smart like me and we want the same things.” He chuckled. “I’ve changed since meeting you. For the first time in my life, I craved a blonde the other day. I wanted to bring her home and encase her in ice. I had it all planned. I’d seen a glass front freezer for sale. It had come out of a store and I could picture this blonde girl, Emily, inside. I could keep her here and look at her all the time.”

The eggs in Ava’s mouth turned to sand and she kept her eyes on her plate to keep him from seeing her disgust. She could smell him, scrubbed clean with aftershave. Her attention drifted to his bare forearms visible beneath the pushed-up arms of his sweater. He didn’t have a hair on him. She lifted her gaze. “Like a living portrait, although she’d be dead.” She smiled. “That sounds interesting and less messy than last night.”

“I guess I went a little crazy.” Preacher chuckled. “I wanted to impress you and rushed my work. I usually like to freeze them. It makes their skin look smooth. Ice is a wonderful medium to work with, it’s not floppy like flesh.” He inclined his head as if waiting for a reaction. “Last night, there wasn’t time and Delores was a screamer.” He suddenly burst into laughter. “She’s out on the bench under the ‘Welcome to Black Rock Falls’ sign. She’ll be frozen by now and for sure, I’ll be on the news tonight.”

Insides turning and threatening to return her breakfast, Ava made herself smile. She hadn’t been able to prevent Isabella’s death but with a little persuasion, she could turn Preacher’s boasting to her advantage. Her life hung in the balance, he would kill her without mercy if he caught her escaping, but with luck cops would be out everywhere, hunting for Isabella’s killer. Cops she could run to for help. She looked at him over the rim of her cup and tried to sound convincing. “I want to see her. Just from a distance and then next time, I want to try some artwork of my own.”

“Well, finish up here and we’ll go now before someone finds her.” Preacher ran a hand over her head and then cupped her chin. “I knew I was right about you.”

Mist hung over the mountain and swirled around Ava’s feet as she climbed into the truck. Her gaze set on a hunting rifle on a mount at the back of the cab and she hadn’t missed the Glock Preacher carried in a holster under the back of his shirt. She fixed her face into a smile. If he restrained her now, she’d have no hope of escaping. She needed a plan. Something she could do to get away from him but the torture of uncertainty crushed down on her. One false move, one small mistake, and he’d kill her in an instant. An idea sprang into her mind and her teeth chattered more from fear than cold as the truck moved down the mountain. Preacher had cleared his road before daylight and the main highway had a liberal coating of salt. As they turned onto Stanton Road, way in the distance she made out flashing lights. A wave of hope washed over her. She had to escape now. “Is that the cops?”

“Maybe.” Preacher stared ahead. “We are close to Delores. They’d be there to control the press.”

It was now or never. Driven by shuddering fear, Ava turned to him. “I need to use the bathroom, right now. I can’t wait, pull over. I’ll duck into the forest.”

“I’ll stop at the park. You can use the bathroom there and I’ll show you where I left the snowman.” Preacher grinned at her.

Heart pounding, Ava wrapped her arms around her stomach, rocked back and forth, and then let out a moan. “Later. I have to go now. I can’t wait.”

“Okay.” Preacher frowned at her but drove off-road and followed a snow-covered track some ways into the forest. He opened the glovebox and pulled out a pack of wipes and handed them to her. “Best I wait here.” He slid the Glock from his waistband and pressed the muzzle against her forehead. “Don’t make me come after you. Next time you run I’ll kill you where you stand.”

Ava grabbed the wipes and shot him a glance. “I won’t run.”

“You know I’ll enjoy killing you if you do? Get a move on. I’ll turn the truck around.” He waved her away. “Don’t freeze your butt off out there.”

The moment she shut the door behind her, the truck moved away, making a turn. Paralyzed with fear, Ava hesitated. Indecision crawled up her spine. He’d kill her for sure if she didn’t reach the cops in time. Panic had her by the throat as she aimed for the thickest part of the forest. She didn’t look back and bolted deep into the trees weaving around tall pines. The cold air cut into her lungs with each stride. It was maybe four hundred yards to the police vehicle, maybe more. Ahead, the forest loomed dark and foreboding. She must go deep and then turn parallel to the road before heading back to the lights and safety. Counting as each yard went by, was her only option. If she came out the forest too far away from the cops, as sure as her name was Ava, Preacher would spot her and she’d be dead.

Ice patches cracked under her boots and low branches grabbed at her clothes as if trying to slow her down. Breathing heavily, she chanced a glance behind her and spotted Preacher’s truck. He was crawling along the track keeping her in sight. If she could see him, he could see her. He was toying with her and it had just become a game she couldn’t win.

In sheer panic she zig-zagged through the trees, leaving the winding animal trails to push deeper into the forest. Fallen logs slowed her down and exposed roots tangled around her feet. Blowing out huge clouds of steam, she forced one leg in front of the other. Chest aching and heart pounding, she urged her aching legs forward. She tried to push down the rising panic as the tall pines closed in around her, like prison bars. Chunks of heavy snow fell from the branches sounding like footsteps behind her. She gasped in terror. I must keep running.

Two hundred yards from Preacher, she turned, panting, to get her bearings but everything looked the same. Trees and more trees for miles in every direction standing like sentries in the gloom. She let out a sob. Which way back to the road? Had she gone around in circles? She stared at her footprints in the snow. All Preacher had to do was follow her trail but surely by now, she had two hundred yards on him. Heaving with exhaustion, she sagged against a tree and bent over to get her breath. Freezing air burned her lungs and warm tears spilled down her cheeks.

The rumble of an eighteen-wheeler cut through the silence and using the hum of the motor as a guide, she took off again, leaping over dead bushes. After another three hundred yards over the rough terrain and with only adrenalin keeping her going, she staggered back onto a trail. The snow was thicker but she plowed on, her feet heavy and limbs cramping. At four hundred yards, she turned and headed back to the road. Through the gloom, blue and red lights flashed like a beacon to guide her to safety. Bursting through the perimeter of the trees, she stopped and gaped in astonishment. Not a police vehicle, or a crowd of cops waiting to help her. Nothing but a few lights guarding an area surrounded by crime scene tape. The highway was empty in both directions. Terrified, and alone, she slumped against a tree and pressed her head in her hands. “I’m dead.”

Boom! A shot rang out. Branches splintered in the place her head had been moments before showering her with splinters and pine needles. Ava screamed and fell to her knees covering her head.

“I’m coming for you, Delores.” Preacher’s voice penetrated the stillness. “I’m going to hunt you down, girl.”

Boom! Boom! Two more shots followed in rapid succession, slicing off tree limbs like butter. The gunshots echoed through the forest sending birds squawking into the sky. Ava’s stomach turned to ice. She had no chance against him. Boom! Boom! Boom! Gasping in terror, she ducked and weaved slipping and sliding on the uneven icy ground. Behind her she could hear him crashing through the forest and getting closer by the second. She dragged up her last ounce of energy and ran for her life.

Fifty-Eight