Descend, page 20
Today, I’ll quietly pay my respects, though. This killer has touched both our families and I want to stand with the others who are hurting the way we are. After the killer is behind bars, or more hopefully dead at the hands of vigilante justice, there will be time to finish what Marcie started.
Matt and I sit in the back of the church with nine Leidolf. Nine others, including Chopper, are outside. With Warren gone, I’ve been paying attention to who Chopper leaves me with and who he doesn’t, trying to figure out which members he’s skeptical of. He doesn’t seem to have issues with anyone from our charter, but it’s hard to tell because when Chopper isn’t around, there’s always a group of descendants, not just one or two.
Ahead of us in the front row, Warren cradled a sobbing Marcie until the service ended and her family formed a line near the closed casket, a beautiful picture of Stella encased in roses sitting atop the silver box. Row by row, we took our turns, staring into the eyes of a woman taken from this earth far too soon. Then we went down the line of family, expressing our condolences.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Marcie.” I offer the words and she reaches for me, drawing me into a hug, her tears hot on my shoulder. I glance at Warren. His hand is on her back, mouth drawn downward as he traces consoling circles against the fabric of her dress. I hold her, let her get out whatever she needs to expel because if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that grief is the oddest emotion of all. It drives us to places we never thought we’d go.
She lets go of me, sniffing. “I appreciate you coming. It means a lot.”
“Of course.” I wipe a tear from her cheek. “If you need anything, the club will take care of it. Just tell Warren. He’ll let us know.”
She looks up at him and smiles. “He’s been a godsend. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
Before I forget my manners, Matt’s hand thrusts forward, a peace offering to Warren. I’m not surprised. Matt’s the bigger man, literally and figuratively, and he’s also the better man. “In times like these, we have to put aside our petty differences and support one another. I’m here for you, brother. Whatever you need, I’m here.”
Tentatively, Warren accepts the handshake. “I appreciate it.”
We walk away and I slide my hand into Matt’s. “Thanks for trying to call a truce.”
He nods. “If he stays away from you, it’ll stay intact.”
~
I wish I knew how to call a truce with Chopper. He didn’t speak to me after we returned from the funeral other than telling me to stay in his apartment. I did, falling asleep on his bed, only to toss and turn in pain while he slept solidly on the couch. At some point, exhaustion took me, and now he’s already waking me up. “We’ve got to go.”
I rub my eyes. “Where?”
He swallows. “To Warren. Marcie’s sister is dead.”
I spring upright. “What? How? Which one?”
He presses his palms to my face. “They just found the youngest one dead. Warren needs us to come. He wants you to help with Marcie and her mom. Can you do that?”
I throw the sheets off me and get out of bed, ignoring the way my back feels broken. “I’ll do anything I can but…what happened? Her sister is fourteen.”
Chopper stares at me. My heart races. “How did she die, Chopper?”
“Her throat was cut.”
~
Speculation stirs as I sit in Warren’s house. It isn’t finished yet, most of the walls still have exposed insulation. He built it in a section of woods behind the garage, surrounded by enough pine that the sounds of the garage and the road beyond are silenced. I had no idea he even had a house, let alone was building one as big as this.
Only two rooms are completed: the master bedroom with an en suite bathroom and the kitchen. We’d first occupied the bedroom but the smell of him overwhelmed me. He never wore cologne, and I could smell that he still doesn’t. His odor is musky, deep earth with a hint of how the river smells on a crisp fall morning. I used to bury my face in his shirts at night, until the smell of him faded away with the passing days, just like my love for him.
Convincing Marcie that the air was better out in what will become the living room, I placed a plank of wood atop two buckets and we’ve been sitting here ever since. She’s next to me, sobbing, which is better than how hysterical she was when Chopper and I arrived at her house. The police and ambulances were already there, swarming the driveway. Technically, Marcie lives on her mom’s land, in a trailer parked just off the side of the driveway. In that driveway there were two cars and one motorcycle. The bike being Warren’s, and one each of the cars belonging to Marcie and her mom. Teresa was found in her mom’s car, sprawled across the backseat with her head nearly severed.
Warren is shaken, and he saw me look at his side where his knife had once been. “Bedroom.” He’d nodded toward Marcie’s place, telling me to go check his knife. I did. It was clean. I also checked the sinks. I’m not a forensic expert but there didn’t appear to be any blood residue or paraphernalia one would use to clean up such a thing.
As soon as we could, we packed up Marcie and her mom and brought them here, getting them away from the scene while the police finish processing it. Marcie sniffs. “Chief said it might be a copycat killer. That things like this happen when murders get sensationalized. And you’ve seen the TV crews. They’re everywhere now.”
I can’t avoid seeing them. They’re stacked on top of each other across the street from the bar. Once in a while, a brave new face strolls into the bar, thinking they’ll catch the club doing something nefarious while they eat a basket of fries. They usually leave in tears.
Marcie’s mom paces in front of me, not hiding her disdain. “Someone killed my little girl to clear the real killer. Making us think he isn’t already locked up.”
Her daughter just died so I let accusation slide. Marcie doesn’t, though. “There have been too many murders to still think it’s Gary, Mom. I told you that already.”
Her mom’s nose lifts. “All I know is the same person who killed that tramp sister of mine didn’t get ahold of my little Teresa. My daughter didn’t associate with people like her.” Her eyes hit on me, as if she’s also lumping me in with the likes of Stella.
“She wasn’t a tramp, Mom!” Marcie yells. “Dad had the affair, too! It wasn’t just Stella all by herself!”
I’d heard their marriage ended over an affair, Marcie’s mom never really kept quiet when she had an opportunity to bash her ex. I’d also heard some speculation that the affair was with the sister but that information came from my sister so I never took it as gospel.
Warren strolls into the room, kneeling down in front of Marcie and cupping her hands in his, talking softly to her. I can’t help seeing the irony in Marcie’s dad and her boyfriend both sleeping with their beloved’s sister.
I sit beside them awkwardly until Warren stands, pulling the woman—who, it appears, will become his mother-in-law soon—into his arms. She clings to him and he holds her tight, corded muscles pulled taut as he whispers just as softly to her as he had to Marcie while the woman’s grief comes out in torrents of tears and anger. “She would have fought. My Teresa wouldn’t just lie there like that, she would have fought!”
Quietly, I get up and leave the house. I didn’t know Teresa well. Mostly only saw her around town now and again, but she always reminded me of myself. She had no inhibitions and seemed to be friends with everyone and no one all at the same time. At her age, if someone put their hands on me, I would have fought hard enough to make them have to kill me. I’d do the same today. Same as I imagine Samantha would have. It makes me wonder if that’s what happened to all of them. They fought, and their attacker liked it.
Walking up the gravel drive to where Chopper is parked in the turn just beyond the pines, I kneel down beside him. “What do you think? It isn’t the same M.O., but it could still be the same person. Or are we really dealing with a copycat?”
He drops his cigarette butt to the ground. He normally doesn’t smoke but this situation is getting the best of all of us and Chopper can’t get blackout drunk every night the way I have been. “Warren thinks it’s the same person.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Something he saw in the body. He can’t place his finger on what it is, but there was something.”
I look back at the house. “Do you trust him?” Chopper’s brow cocks. I swallow. “I’m not saying he’s a murderer, I just…something is off about this whole thing. I don’t believe the victims are random anymore, they do feel targeted. But Warren’s giving us reasons that don’t make any sense and these last two murders are only connected to him, as far as the club and I are concerned anyway.”
Chopper stares at the cigarette beside his boot. “Warren thinks this last murder is a message.”
“What kind of message does nearly decapitating a fourteen-year-old girl send?”
His eyes lift, shooting ice into my veins. “The killer is telling us he can walk right under our noses, and get to you.”
~51~
Matt
Butterflies erupt as I pull into Tessa’s driveway. She stayed at the bar last night and I missed her. Since that very first night with her, my desires about what I want for our future have been changing. Evolving. She’s more special than I thought, and her house is one of the few places where I feel satisfied. Like I’ve been well-fed after a lifetime of starving.
She texted me an hour ago asking me to meet her at home. I expected a bike to be waiting outside but there isn’t one. She’s either not here yet, or she convinced the club to leave her alone for once.
Beth’s car is here, so she’s definitely home. I walk up the driveway, skimming my fingers along the hood of her car as my shoes crunch over the gravel and then sink into the soft earth where a sidewalk ought to be. Occasionally I step onto a chunk of long-forgotten concrete that’s covered over by layers of soil and weeds, something I plan on fixing. I’ll do it for Tessa and Beth, give them both a nice home to live in until we sell this one and buy something better.
“It’s me,” I announce as I open the door, tugging my shoes off and plopping them on the rubber mat where a pair of tennis shoes appear to have been kicked off in a hurry. Tessa doesn’t wear tennis shoes. She hardly wears anything other than boots, so these are Beth’s. My heart sinks. Tessa really might not be here yet.
“Babe?” I walk through the quiet house.
“In here!” Beth calls out from the direction of the bedrooms, hers just a stone’s throw from Tessa’s. I head down the hall, catching the flicker of light from Tessa’s darkened room. I lightly push the ajar door open. My eyes adjust to the candlelight, bringing a vision of red into view. Beth is bent over the side table, her backside draped in what I vividly recall being my birthday gift. My throat tightens. “What are you doing wearing Tessa’s dress?”
She lights her last candle and blows out the match, lifting herself upright and glancing at me over her shoulder. “Don’t you like it?” She runs her hands along her thighs. “I picked this dress out just for you.”
My palms sweat, mouth going dry as she spins toward me, her fingers grazing along the cleavage spilling out of the skimpy fabric. Unlike Tessa, Beth fills this dress out in a way that would have her arrested if she walked outside. “Where’s Tessa? She asked me to meet her here.”
She laughs, sitting on the bed and running her hand across the sheets. “That was me, silly. It’s amazing what an app can do these days. I can text as her. Track her movements through the day even though the club gives her stupid burner phones.” She points a manicured nail at me. “I even know when she’s screwing you.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Where is she right now?”
She smiles. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yeah, Beth. I would like to know.”
Her bright red lips blow me a kiss. “Don’t worry, I’m keeping her busy.”
I look around the room. There are candles lit on the dresser as well as both nightstands. “You’ve got her out chasing her tail so you can what? Pretend to be her?”
She slides farther back on the bed, positioning herself on all fours and crawling toward me. “Is that what you want, Matt? For me to pretend to be her?”
I move toward her. “No, Beth. I want you to be you, and Tessa to be Tessa. I didn’t get to see her last night and now I’m finding out I haven’t heard from her all day. You’ve been the one texting me.” My gut burns. I bet she’s done this a lot and the whole time I thought I was talking to Tessa. “Where is your sister?”
She sits back on her heels, legs parted. She doesn’t have anything on under that dress. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like what you’re seeing?”
I clear my throat, heart pounding. “You know I do.”
She smiles. “Good. Because I’ve been getting worried that you prefer your women stupid.”
“Tessa isn’t stupid.”
She slides the straps off her shoulders, letting her chest fill my eyes. “Isn’t she? She can’t even see what’s right in front of her. Me. You. Us.” The bed creaks under her weight. “Your birthday night was especially fun. What you did to her, what we did to her.” She licks her lips. “Don’t worry. I’m not done with her yet. I like watching you with her. The way she’s too stupid to know she’s been drugged, and too stupid to know why her poor little back hurts the next day.” She laughs, beckoning me forward. “I love how you hurt her, and I love when you take me right beside her. On top of her.” She latches onto my hips and jerks me toward her. “All the things we do to her, I want you to do it all to me, right now.”
My pulse beats in my ears, heart hammering against my chest. I remember the first time Beth bounced those breasts on top of me. We were in the back of my car, and made our first kill three days later. The very next day she promised me her sister. The plan was to torment Tessa, toy with her, take away all that was good in her life. But I don’t want that anymore. I want more of what I’ve been having. Both of them. Only, I want to wean Tessa off the pills. I want her to feel what I do to her, and I want her to like it as much as Beth does.
I wrap my hand around Beth’s throat. Her chest heaves, eyes dilating. I squeeze harder. Her back arches, her mouth parting in a groan. She has the same look on her face every time she wields her knife. Every time she brings it down on whoever I’m inside, driving me to climax. I flex my fingers, taunting her. “I’ve got a new plan.”
Her nails dig into my forearms. “So do I.” Her body presses forward, urging me to squeeze even harder. “I made a kill on my own last night. Punish me for it.”
A Note From The Author
“Living the dream is simply a form of living your passion.” ~ Urijah Faber
Thank you for reading Descend! This book has been rattling around in my head for years, the ending, anyway. It just took me a while to have the rest of the story fall into place and I hope you agree that it was well worth the wait because that ending is…everything.
While the characters and location of this book are complete fiction, I did take inspiration from a town close to where I grew up. Hinton is a great little riverside town so if you find yourself in southern West Virginia, look it up and take a country drive!
It’s a fact that without my editor, everything I write would be complete rubbish. Anita from Proof Positive steered me in the right direction once again, and I can’t thank her enough for her time and expertise. If there are mistakes in my manuscript, you better believe they’re all mine.
To all the family, friends, and readers who continually support and encourage me, thank you! Dreaming is easy, it’s daring to live a dream that’s hard. You give me the confidence to continue and I’m eternally grateful. An extra dose of gratitude goes to my handsome husband Joe.
For my sailor, my hero, my son – thank you for unconditionally loving me. You are everything to me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lee Dawna is a thriller, suspense, and romance author living in the rolling mountains of West Virginia. An avid traveler and outdoorswoman, you may bump into her along a remote trail where a meandering stream whispers her next story.
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Book 3 of the romantic suspense Beller Ties set releases March 1st, 2022. Join my newsletter for early release news! https://mailchi.mp/c9aefdb4dab7/leedawna-books
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Lee Dawna, Descend
