On the Count of Three, page 32
“No,” Zach lied, not about to admit to a serial killer that he had a sister.
“Then you can imagine how hard it was to share after all those years alone.”
Zach wondered if there was more to the man’s hatred for his cousin than just the fact that he’d moved in with his family. Did it have something to do with his mother leaving? And why had she? Was it just the fact that her husband fell on bad luck, or was there something far more sinister that had occurred in the Kensington home? Zach’s thoughts were starting to pull together now, and he recalled how love maps were made at an early age. They often became distorted due to sexual abuse. It might have been a leap, but were the father’s affections shifted from Jason to the cousin? It wasn’t unheard of for the abused to become hurt and envious when the adult abuser turns their attention elsewhere.
“Your cousin moved in and things changed. You weren’t treated the same,” Zach said displaying empathy. “That would have been hard.”
“You have no idea,” he spat.
“Every child deserves to know how special they are, to be loved and given attention,” Zach said softly.
“They do, but things were never the same once—”
“Once Michael started living with you.”
Kensington said nothing.
“Life changed at that point.” Zach didn’t think it was a good idea to come right out with his suspicions about the father.
Kensington kicked the toe of his right boot against the floor. “What would you know?”
“Your father lost his job, started drinking. Your parents ended up divorced. Your mother remarried. Your dad—”
“I know what happened in my life,” Kensington seethed.
“My apologies,” Zach said genuinely.
After a few seconds, Kensington said, “I used to get anything I wanted. Dad even took us to Disney World and—”
There was a rumbling in the distance. Kensington ran out of view, and Zach heard curtains sliding back.
Oh, dear God. Tell me help’s coming!
If only Zach could do something to use the distraction to his advantage. He suddenly became aware that the only parts of him that were free were his legs and feet. There was no way he could just pull himself out. He couldn’t risk shaking his way out of the guillotine, either. With the suspended blade, he’d likely be decapitated before he got loose. Bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down.
There was no way he could get out of here on his own. This was literally a case of having his hands tied. And the thing Zach feared more than anything was going to happen to him unless—
Everything fell silent. Zach closed his eyes briefly, calling on a higher power he wasn’t sure existed. Silence meant someone was about to make a move. He could be saved. Then again, he might not be. If there ever was a time for it, now was the time to pray.
-
Fifty-Six
My heart was pounding. Whatever happened to Zach was on me. I’d only turned away for a second, but I should have removed all the blankets on the boat and done a thorough search. Kensington had to have been hiding there all along. I wasn’t allowing myself any forgiveness, not until I got Zach back safe and sound.
Marsh and I had led the pack and obtained a boat from a neighbor, but they were a couple miles out. The clock was ticking, and time for Zach surely had to be running out. I wasn’t wired to think positively as it was, and the odds against him weren’t helping turn that around.
“We’ll get him,” Marsh said, as if she could read my mind. I knew she was trying to help, but her words only highlighted the fact that we didn’t really know what the future held. I said nothing.
She was driving the boat, and we were cutting through the water at a fast clip. Others would be following us, but it was going to be Marsh and me who took this son of a bitch down. We’d spent much of the last few days butting heads, but Jack trusted her. That would have to be enough for now. She had proven herself to be an asset to the team, too, and I could admit that much.
“There!” I pointed to a small shed set in from the shoreline about twenty yards.
Marsh slowed the boat and steered us toward a small dock where the unsub’s motorboat was tied. I gave the others the update over the comms as she pulled in.
The boat finally in place, Marsh and I looked at each other. “We’re going to have to work as a team,” she said. It almost sounded as if it was as painful a thought to her as it was to me. When we’d jumped into the boat together, it had been on impulse, nothing more. It didn’t even really hit me that I was with Marsh until we’d set out.
“I can do that. Can you?” I asked.
She nodded. “Zach’s life depends on it.”
“I know this,” I said, a touch irritated that she felt she had to point that out to me.
Both of us turned to study the shed. It was about twenty feet by twenty feet with a window facing the water. A curtain was across it, not allowing us to see inside. I took a few steps to get a view of sides two and three. Side two had a door and side three another window. It was also covered.
“Heat-sensing equipment could come in handy right about now,” I grumbled.
“We’ll have to make do with these.” Marsh pulled her gun and brought it up to the ready.
There was something about seeing that bright nail polish wrapped around a Glock that was sexy—and intimidating as hell.
I drew my gun and said, “I’m FBI. I’ll take the lead.”
“Whatever you wish, Agent, but let’s make a move.”
I brushed past her, my gun aimed toward the shed. I was prepared for Kensington to come out of the shed, armed with firepower of his own, but there were no sounds except for the whispers of reeds blowing in a breeze and the sucking noise of our footsteps in the soft ground.
When we made it to the door, we each braced against the side of the shed. I was next to the door with Marsh tucked into my side.
“On the count of three, we’ll go in,” I said.
“Going with the surprise attack. Risky,” she replied.
“But also effective.”
“We don’t even know where they’re positioned in there.”
“We’re about to find out,” I countered stubbornly. “One, two, three.”
I grabbed the door and swung it open. Both Marsh and I entered the shed, guns at the ready. But I wasn’t ready for what was in front of me.
Zach was secured into a guillotine. That must have been what made the cuts so clean… Bile rose in the back of my throat.
Kensington jumped back when we entered. He was standing within a few feet of Zach now, and my eyes traced the chain that held the blade suspended down to where it was wrapped around a dock tie-down, screwed to the side of the guillotine.
Kensington lunged toward the chain, but Marsh came out of nowhere and tackled him to the ground. The two of them were rolling around on the floor at Zach’s feet—too close for me to squeeze between them to free Zach. I had to help Marsh fend off Kensington first.
She was on top of him, but he torqued his body and positioned himself above her. His hands went for her neck, and I went for his. I put him in a chokehold and yanked back. He continued to squeeze Marsh as she bucked wildly beneath him.
With my free hand, I pressed my gun to his forehead and constricted his throat more. “Let go of her. Now.”
I felt his grip weaken, and he let go of Marsh. I yanked him to his feet.
He stood to his full height, his back to me, while Marsh was still lying on her side, gulping for breath.
“Arms behind your back,” I directed him.
He put one arm back. I reached for the other, but he swung out and decked me in the head. The force was like a freight train and had me seeing white.
That’s it. Gloves off.
I gave him an uppercut to his nose, palm meeting cartilage, and he cried out. I hit him again and again until he fell to his knees. I holstered my gun and went to lift him to his feet to cuff him. He kicked out his leg and brought me down with a hard thump. He was clawing to get to my gun. I pulled it, and he knocked it out of my hand. It went skittering across the floor, and I lunged for it. So did he.
My fingers grazed the barrel, and so did his. Neither of us got a grip on it.
He reached out to punch me, but I ducked out of the way. My reciprocated blow met his nose again. He clambered across the floor and managed to pin me down. His frame looming over mine.
I couldn’t hear Marsh’s breathing anymore, and I’d worked with Zach long enough to know he was staying quiet so as not to add to the stress of the situation. Or at least I hoped that’s all it was.
I bucked and tried to get on top, but Kensington was strong. His hands reached out for my neck. Suddenly, he fell limp and collapsed onto me.
Marsh’s face came into view over Kensington’s shoulder.
I pushed Kensington off me and to the side, and Marsh held out one hand to help me up. In the other one, she had my gun. She thrust it down, implying she’d smacked him on the head with the butt of it. “Made do with this just fine.” The way she was smiling reinforced that I would never want to be on her bad side. Come to think of it, she was all right. She handed me back my gun.
Kensington was moaning on the floor, and Marsh swooped over and cuffed him. He didn’t put up a fight. She read off his Miranda rights while I informed the other officers, including Jack and Paige, over the comms that we had secured Kensington, as I went over to free Zach from the guillotine.
Kensington cackled.
It was then that I noticed a padlock secured the pieces that restrained Zach’s neck. I spun to face Kensington.
“You’ll never find the key,” he chortled.
Marsh had her gun pressed to Kensington’s head in a flash. “Tell us where it is.”
Kensington laughed. The sound was eerie as hell given the situation.
I went over to him where he was still on the floor but now in a seated position. I shook him. “Key. Now.”
He stared at me, smugness saturating his features.
The key had to be in this shed. Somewhere. Or on Kensington’s person. “Get up.” I pulled him to his feet and started patting him down. Feeling safe that Marsh had cuffed his hands behind his back.
I emptied his front and back pockets. No key.
“It has to be here somewhere.” I looked at Zach. “Do you know where he might have put it, Zach?”
Kensington laughed again. The man was certifiably insane.
“Don’t know. I came to in this thing,” Zach said. Hearing him speak brought mixed emotions. It told me he was alive, but there was something so pained in there as well.
I eyed the half-cabinets that lined two walls of the room. Above them were countertops. None of them had keyholes. I opened one door after another until I found something that might get me closer to that key. It was a small safe with a numerical keypad.
Kensington wasn’t laughing now. “You’ll never guess the password.”
Wanna bet?
It had to involve the number three. I keyed in the code 0-3-3-3 and hit the “unlock” button. Denied.
I straightened out and got in Kensington’s face. “What’s the password?”
“And why would I tell you?”
“Because you know what’s best for you.”
“Oooh, is that supposed to scare me?” Kensington mimicked quakes running through him.
Marsh thrust a knee into the back of his leg, which had him buckling. I was starting to like her more with every passing second.
“What are you looking at, Brandon?” Zach asked.
“One of those small safes. Usually they require a four-digit password,” I told him.
“It probably has to do with the number three,” Zach said.
They say great minds think alike…
“I tried zero-three-three-three,” I told him.
Kensington laughed again, and Marsh brought him to his knees. He stopped laughing. She bent over and leaned in close to his ear. “Tell us the passcode,” she demanded.
“It has to be something important to him—a number, a date, a birthday,” Zach said.
A date… What about the year everything had changed for him? We figured he had been triggered by Moore’s article on the Mayfield family.
“Marsh, what was the year of that article on Mayfield?” I looked over at her to see that I was interrupting her “fun time” with Kensington. She had her fingers digging into his scalp, and his head was arched backward.
Marsh told me the year. I typed it in and nada. “Didn’t work.”
“Another monumental time,” Zach prompted. “When—” His head fell forward, limp.
Shit!
I hurried to him and supported his head. His eyes were closed and fluttering rapidly behind his lids. “We’ve got to get him to a doctor.”
“Zach, stay with me,” I said, even though I knew that he was slipping away already. “Zach,” I repeated louder, and he jolted awake. “Stick with me. I’ll have you out of here soon. Just keep your eyes open.”
Another monumental time…
It had to be when the cousin moved in with his family. I keyed in that year and nothing. “Argh.”
Kensington started to chuckle, but it turned into a whimper. I didn’t look, but I assumed Marsh was behind the change in Kensington’s tune.
Maybe it was just the month and day. “The date of the accident,” I blurted out to Marsh. “The one that killed Michael’s parents,” I clarified.
“March twenty—” Marsh stopped talking as Kensington tried to pull from her grasp. She yanked him back. “March twenty-six.”
I keyed the numbers in quickly, though it felt as if I were moving in slow motion. Zero, three, two, six. I squeezed my eyes shut briefly before hitting the “unlock” button. If this didn’t work, I didn’t know what else to try. Then I heard the soft click.
“See that, asshole? We’re in,” Marsh said.
Kensington snarled.
I opened the safe and found more than a key. There were pendants, necklaces, watches, bracelets, and earrings. They had probably all belonged to his victims. I grabbed the key and hurried to Zach, whose head had gone limp.
“All’s clear, but we need paramedics immediately,” I communicated over the comms.
Communication came back that Jack and Paige were moving in, along with some local officers.
I held up my hand holding the key, praying this was the one we needed. I slipped it into the hole and it was a perfect fit. I worked to free Zach.
Moments later, Jack, Paige, and some officers entered the shed.
I helped Zach to his feet. He was in pretty rough shape, and I had to support most of his weight. Kensington was hauled off by a couple of Miami police officers.
Marsh and I helped Zach to one of the boats and got him aboard.
“Jack, I’d like to go with him,” Paige said.
He nodded. He hadn’t said a word since he’d entered the shed, and his expression was dark. He was certainly deep in thought.
“You all right?” I asked him.
He turned his head slowly to look at me. “I should be asking you two that.”
“We’re fine, Jack. Tough birds.” Marsh was smiling as she put a hand on my shoulder. “Good work in there.”
“You too.” I smiled at her, though the expression was tempered over concern for Zach. I sure as hell hoped he was going to be okay.
-
Fifty-Seven
Lights were brought in, as were more officers. The area surrounding the cabin and the cabin itself were teeming with law enforcement personnel of all shapes, sizes, ranks, and expertise. K-9 cadaver dogs were brought in and they uncovered the burial site of three bodies in what I would think was record time. It would take longer to identify them. Forensics was working over the shed, collecting all they could.
Kelly—that’s how I thought of Marsh now that we had saved the day together—had handed over a diamond that she’d found when wrestling with Kensington. Its cut, clarity, and color hinted at it being expensive—far more so than any of the other pieces of jewelry found in the safe. And none of them were missing a diamond. So whoever this belonged to was still a mystery.
Jack’s phone rang, and he put it on speaker. It was Nadia.
“I was finally able to track down the workstation at the hospital, and I know whose log-in was used.”
“You’re not going to make me ask, are you?” Jack said, rather abruptly.
“Stella Bridges’s,” was all Nadia said.
The three of us fell silent. My guess was that the other two were just as blindsided as I was. “Stella Bridges?” I repeated.
“That’s right. And what’s more, I’ve been able to connect Bridges and Kensington.” Nadia paused just a few seconds to draw in a breath. “Bridges’s supervisor at the hospital ordered her to complete an anger management course when she hit a fellow doctor, who was also her ex-lover. I got ahold of the records for that course and found that Jason Kensington was there, too.”
I wasn’t even going to ask how Nadia found this out at—I looked at my watch—close to midnight.
“Why was Kensington there?” Kelly asked.
“I couldn’t find any reason that he had to be,” Nadia replied. “I’d say that he chose to be.”
“So they hit it off, became friends, and decided to become a serial killing duo?” I theorized. As crazy as it sounded, it was plausible.
“Not sure if it’s that simple, or even of the extent of Bridges’s involvement in the murders, for that matter,” Nadia said, “but I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s had some idea of what Kensington’s been up to.”
“Well, at least it seems likely she’s either behind the hate mail to Henderson or facilitated things so Kensington could send it,” Jack said. “We don’t know if they were conspiring together, but we need to find out. We can at least bring her in for suspicions of uttering threats to Henderson.”
