

### The Future Kills

By Ron Knight

Published by Brand Eleven Eleven

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 by Ron Knight

The Future Waits...

The Future Arrives...

The Future Kills

### 1

"I see the skin melt away from their faces. Eye sockets empty; deep abyss holes and besieged voices that howl with a terrified sorrow."

Seth rolled over in the bed and glanced at the glow of the clock. His eyes then settled on his wife. He couldn't see her face in the darkness. Instead, he visualized innocent people being murdered.

"The same dream?" Brandi asked.

"Not a dream. A vision."

"We need to get you some help for your nightmares."

"It's not a nightmare. How many times do I need to explain that?"

"I'm sorry, but it's hard to believe that you're seeing visions while you fall asleep." Brandi's voice began to crack as the conversation leaned toward a full-blown meltdown.

"You'll never understand." Frustration prickled his skin. Their voices snapped back and forth like a pendulum that was about to fall off the hinges.

"You told me that someone killed these people." Brandi's pitch took on more courage. "Explain what the murderer looks like. Maybe that will help."

Seth rubbed his eyes, whishing he could just have a normal night. Lie down and go to sleep like every other human being. Once again that wouldn't be possible. He decided to tell his wife the truth. "The one who kills all those people is a girl."

"You mean a woman?"

"No. I mean a sixteen-year-old."

"Can you see her face?"

"Yes."

"How many people does she kill?"

"Fifty. Maybe more."

Brandi let out a nervous chuckle. "That's impossible."

"Which is why I didn't want to tell you. I'm guessing that deep down you think I'm going insane."

"You're not insane. You are a wonderful husband and father that-"

"Enough!" Seth gripped the edge of the bed and lowered his voice. "Please, don't talk to me like I'm some perfect man."

"What are you going to do?"

"I need to stop the girl who is going to become a murderer."

Brandi sat up; her troubled eyes became visible in the dark bedroom. "You're scaring me."

"After a year of us having this same conversation in the middle of the night, I'm finally scaring you. About time."

"Think of your own daughter. She's ten-years-old and needs to know her father loves her."

"I do love her."

"Not if you believe a sixteen-year-old girl is going to murder people."

"That sixteen-year-old girl is going to murder fifty people and become a serial killer without mercy."

Brandi plopped back down to her pillow. "How are you going to stop this girl? Do you even know where she is? What she looks like?"

"I know everything about her."

"What does that mean?"

"I need to bring this to an end."

"What exactly are you going to do?"

"Kidnap her...then kill her. It's the only way."

### 2

In high school his nickname was Ghoul. The mockery of a name had been tagged on him for two reasons. He was tall and frail with powder skin and long black hair. The second reason was that he's morbidly obsessed with death.

Since graduation he murdered sixty-four people in the last seven years. He gave victims an everlasting home wrapped in plastic and secured with duct tape. Not much of a casket, but it served its purpose. The bodies were those of all ages, oldest being eighty-three, youngest seventeen.

He took them because he could.

He killed them because he couldn't think of anything better to do.

He wrapped them in the plastic-duct-tape-coffin and buried each of them a hundred miles from where he abducted them. In seven years, not one had been found.

Ghoul saved his money after high school and hired a personal trainer. The trainer said things like, "We need to bulk you up." Ghoul gained fifty pounds of muscle. The trainer then suggested, "Spend time in a tanning booth or at least get some sun." Ghoul went to the beach where he played volleyball, jogged, and bronzed his skin. He buzzed his hair and said goodbye to the black demon strands. He had a manicurist trim and clean his hellish nails.

Now, Ghoul looked like every other average white male. It was time to expand his _morbid obsession of death_.

He butchered a middle-aged woman at a bar parking lot when he turned twenty-one. Nice birthday for him; bad night for the woman.

He could have stopped himself. That's the thing about serial killers. They're not mentally ill. In fact, serial killers are like most people. They have average jobs with a modest income. Their obsessions are not always death. It could be chocolate, gambling, or impulse buying. Serial killers enjoy news reports about houses that had caught on fire. At some point in their lives they were bullied. All common characteristics of just about anyone...including you, who is reading this story.

When Ghoul murdered that woman he decided to stick a knife in her throat, twist, and watch as the blood spilled from her body.

That was easy.

Like all serial killers Ghoul made intelligent getaways. He loaded her into the car. It was raining. Not just a little, but the kind of storm that showed how weak humans really are. Rain washes away guilt.

More importantly, it washes away guilty evidence.

His first kill was in 1998. These days there are new ways to catch murderers.

Ghoul improved his ability to manipulate others. He destroyed evidence with fire and consumed souls from their bodies.

He continued planning his future kills.

### 3

Brandi had a long night. When your husband tells you that he has visions of a sixteen-year-old girl who will become a serial killer and then he decides that he will kidnap that girl and murder her, it would cause any wife to toss and turn.

She peeled her eyes open and gazed at the clock. It was just after ten. She wasn't the type of person who slept in. Then again, what mother is permitted to sleep? It's amazing that her daughter had yet to bang on the door with some life-threatening request. The last emergency two days ago was that she couldn't find her blue halter-top for school.

Brandi sat up and stared at the window. The morning sun became bright and magnified in the bedroom. She stood, wrapped her silk rob around her aching body and trudged to the bathroom.

"Mom!" her daughter yelled from the hallway. "Mom, are you up yet?"

"Be right out," Brandi replied. Time for the latest life-threatening emergency.

"Mom, where's dad? I need to be at soccer practice in fifteen minutes."

Brandi stared in the mirror. Her black skin seemed pale. Her eyes swollen, lips dry, and black hair a ball of frizz.

"Mom, I need to get going!"

_And my day begins,_ Brandi thought. "Alyssa...I...will...be...right...out!"

"Ten minutes and I'm late. I'll have to run extra laps after practice!"

Brandi dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, did a quick brush through her knotted hair, and slipped on her shoes.

"I have three minutes!" Alyssa screamed from the hallway.

Brandi opened the door. Her daughter was dressed in her green soccer uniform and cleats.

"Let's go," Brandi said as they hurried down the stairs. "Did you eat?"

"Yes."

"Did you drink enough fluids? It looks warm today."

"Yes."

They were outside in seconds, climbed in the Dodge Caravan; a typical _soccer mom_ vehicle with the exception that the mom sped out of the driveway like a NASCAR driver.

Brandi's eyes bounced in every direction, searching for Seth's white Honda Civic. "Where did your father go?"

"No idea," Alyssa said with a huff.

"What's your problem?"

"I'm late for practice. At this point I'll have to run three extra laps."

"You could use the exercise."

"Why did you sleep in so late?"

Brandi wasn't about to answer that question. She drove with one hand and called Seth on the cell phone with her other hand.

No answer.

"Did you see your father at all this morning?"

"No."

"What time were you up?"

"Six."

Brandi glanced at her. "Why so early?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Anything wrong?"

"Yes! I am six minutes late for soccer practice and I was ready three hours ago!"

Brandi blew out a sigh as she zoomed down the street, made several rolling stops, and swerved into the parking lot. She had barely stopped when Alyssa flew from the van.

Her cell phone beeped. Brandi looked down and saw she had a text message from Seth. She opened her inbox and read two words that would forever change her life.

"I'm sorry."

### 4

Ghoul had to wait several nights for the perfect chance to take her. Hanna Maynard had turned eighteen three weeks ago. She liked to talk on her cell phone outside. Even when it rained, Hanna would pace back and forth with an umbrella.

He wasn't sure whom Hanna spoke with every night. Possibly a boyfriend. Maybe a best friend or classmate. Regardless, she was outside at night which was all that mattered.

When the storm came, Ghoul was pleased. It wouldn't be easy to kidnap Hanna. The Maynard's were wealthy. Mom and daughter each had a bodyguard, while dad had four bodyguards. The property highly secured. Not just with electrical systems, but with motion lights and cameras.

Then again, in the rain anything is possible.

Kendrick Maynard owned eleven abortion clinics. He's worth millions. His influence could be his strongest asset, although he was a tiny runt of a man. In fact he looks like some middle-aged nerd on his way to buy the latest science magazine. That was his great deception.

Kendrick convinced the Livonia, Michigan School Board to allow high school students to get an abortion without having to notify their parents. Who in their right mind would ever consider agreeing to such a thing? Well, the Livonia School Board agreed with Kendrick and even had it passed as a local law.

That received national attention. Other cities where his abortion clinics were located passed the same law. Fifteen-year-old girls could go to their school nurse and explain that they are pregnant. The nurse would call for a cab and send the girl to the abortion clinic by herself. No one would ever find out. The records were kept a secret.

Over the years violent acts on Kendrick and his family escalated. It didn't help that Kendrick's wife, Pricilla Maynard, was an influential activist for the Pro Choice Campaign.

If you had dinner with the Maynard's you would get the sense of an average family. They went to a Baptist church, volunteered for several missionaries, and donated millions to numerous foundations. Hanna excelled in all her classes, played on the girl's basketball team, and was a member of the French Club.

When it came right down to it, people in the world did not like what Kendrick did for a living. Therefore, it did not matter what kind of life they lived. Nobody cared how many hours of volunteering they put in, or how much money they gave to charities.

They were killers. The Maynard's owned clinics that murdered babies. They stole future lives.

This prompted Kendrick to hire a security team to protect his family.

As for Ghoul, he was not concerned what the Maynard's did professionally or personally.

He just wanted Hanna.

Ghoul saw the flint of light coming from the back porch which was the female bodyguard hired to protect Hanna, smoking a cigarette while Hanna talked on the phone outside. The woman had only been on the job for six days because the other bodyguard quit.

Inexperience meant opportunity.

The rain poured from the dark sky with blinding force. Hanna did a lap around the pool, holding both the umbrella and cell phone. Next, she made her way along the stone path that led to the outdoor kitchen.

"Like clockwork," Ghoul whispered from behind the stone wall. Routine was a serial killer's dreams come true.

The lights on the property flashed on. This signaled that someone was on the property. No worries though, it's just Hanna Maynard talking on the phone. _No one else is here. It's a normal evening. Nothing to be concerned about_.

Hanna took a lap around the outside kitchen. Next, she would head back to the pool, then finish her conversation and go inside the house.

Not tonight.

Instead she would be grabbed by the mouth and dragged away. Ghoul was much too strong and had the element of surprise. The rain camouflaged his every move and washed away the evidence.

By the time Hanna's bodyguard knew she's missing, Ghoul would disappear in the night.

Then, he would have some fun with her.

### 5

At four o'clock in the morning Seth made the decision to end his life. Not physically, but rather as a person who wants to be free. His prison of course would be a cell. On the other hand the vision of the teenage girl had been imprisoned for many years.

Seth's father, Morris Stone saw a similar vision. He lived next door to a boy named, Alton Coleman. Everyday his father imagined Alton growing up, meeting a woman named Debra Brown, and doing something terrible to other people.

In dreams there are distortions of the truth. But in a vision, it's a relentless warning. His father ignored that warning.

Alton Coleman along with Debra Brown, robbed, raped, and murdered people in five different states. This happened throughout the seventies. Seth's father made a vow that if his children saw a similar vision they were to save the lives of innocent people by getting rid of the evil.

Morris Stone named his first son Judas. It was to symbolize a treachery of something good in order to save others. Judas Iscariot betrayed Jesus. However, the death of Jesus saved billions of lives.

Morris then named his daughter, Judith, for similar reasons as her older brother.

As for Seth, who was the youngest, he had the fortune to be given the middle name of Neil. This created the name, Seth N. Stone. It meant that his path in life had already been preordained and _set in stone_.

Seth continued seeing a vision of a serial killer. He would have a choice, like his father, to stop the killer while he or she was still young.

Of course, he could ignore the warnings that his mind had so unmercifully demanded. He could let the person in his vision grow up to be a killer. Either way he had to make a decision. Seth could allow the world to play out its evil plan.

Or kidnap the future killer.

Seth had not spoken to his brother and sister in years. He had an idea of the daily tortures that haunted their every thought. Nevertheless, he didn't know what they would do if the time ever came to make that life changing decision.

Seth thought about the girl in his vision that would go on to become a serial killer. Her name is Kristy Blackwell.

She lived next door.

He used the spare key that was given to him by Kristy's mother, Maxine, and entered the home. Maxine was divorced when Kristy was only two-years-old. Seth looked after the two of them, along with the house. Seth had become sort of a fill-in father for Kristy. Like his own daughter, he got Kristy interested in sports, took her to church, and helped her with problems at school.

Now, Seth was inside of Kristy's bedroom. He couldn't believe that this beautiful young girl would steal the lives of so many people. That she had wickedness inside that would overcome her conscience and good nature.

Seth reached down and grabbed her mouth, then scooped her up with his massive arm. "God forgive me," he whispered.

### 6

Ghoul stared at Hanna strapped down to the bed with fishing twine that secured her wrists and ankles digging into her skin.

She didn't struggle. Ghoul had not made any promises or threats. Hanna seemed to accept her fate. He admired that.

Similar to her mother, Hanna had a portly body, dark hair, and eyes hidden like a mask. She was nothing like her father with the exception of her arrogant demeanor.

"Why aren't you afraid?" Ghoul asked. This is what serial killers do. They get to know their victims. It made torturing them much more pleasurable.

Hanna turned her head, eyes glazed with determination. "My family has been threatened every single day. Why should this be any different?"

Ghoul cocked his head. "You've been kidnapped before?"

"Yes."

"How did you get away?"

Hanna lifted her head, using all her strength to keep it up. "My father hired a team of mercenaries to execute the kidnaper." Her head fell back to the pillow. "You should be shitting your pants right now."

Ghoul sat on the bed and ran his finger up her meaty thigh. He had yet to undress her, debating what would demoralize her the most. The plaid skirt she wore was cute, although a little snug for someone her size. She had on a white T-shirt that was soaked through from rain and sweat. Her massive white bra could easily be seen as her chest rose up and down with a deep rhythm.

"Your bravery is a nice change, even for an eighteen-year-old."

She stared at him for a long moment. "What do you mean?"

"I've killed sixty-four people," he explained. His finger slid beneath her skirt and to her panties.

She flinched, eyes blinking. "If you killed that many people, it would have been on the news."

"That's a good point." He teased his finger around her panties and along her inner thigh. "Unless no one knows that they are dead."

She squirmed, but could not move away. "I don't believe you."

"The victims had been reported missing, but none of them found. There's a difference between sixty-four souls lost in the world and sixty-four murdered over seven years. The latter is news worthy."

Hanna twisted her body, but the fishing twine kept her in place. "You kidnap young girls? Is that what turns you on!"

He snapped her wet panties with his thumb and finger. "I'm not partial to anyone in particular. I have killed all sorts of people. They were different ages. Male and female. Black, white, Hispanic, and Chinese." He pinched the meaty part of her thigh, grinning as he saw the hope drain from her eyes.

"Stop it!"

"No...I won't."

She lifted her head. "Are you going to rape me? Go ahead! Get it over with you pervert!"

Ghoul removed his finger and stood up. "You're just about the bravest young lady I've ever met." He sucked on his finger and cleaned it off. "How about I reward you?"

A bead of sweat drizzled down Hanna's large cheek. "What kind of reward?"

"I'll let you call one person. This will be your one and only chance to say goodbye."

She considered the proposition. "Do you have my cell phone?"

"It's right here," Ghoul said. He picked it off the nightstand and turned on the power. There were several missed calls and text messages, mostly from her father. "Who should I dial?"

"My boyfriend."

"His name?"

"Gibor."

Ghoul laughed. "Gibor? Please tell me that's his nickname."

"No, it's his real name. You calling or what?"

Ghoul shook his head. "Fine." He went through the address book and pressed Gibor's name.

The boyfriend answered on the first ring. "Where are you? Everyone is scared shitless."

Ghoul positioned the phone by her head. "Say goodbye."

Hanna's hard expression crumbled. That's what boyfriends can do to young girls. Make them weak. "I've been kidnapped," she said through a glob of tears. "He took me from my house when I was on the phone with you."

Ghoul whispered in her other ear, "Say goodbye."

"I love you! Goodbye!"

Ghoul shut the power off on the phone and smashed it on the floor. "Feel better now?"

"I want to go home!" she cried.

"What happened to the strong young woman?"

"Please, let me go. My father will pay you anything."

Ghoul opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a hunting knife still wrapped in the package. He liked to use a new one each time. "I just have a question," he said, ripping open the package. "Why did you call your boyfriend?"

Hanna closed her eyes as tears spilled and drenched her face. "What are you talking about?"

"When I gave you the option to call one person, why did you choose Gibor?"

"Because I love him!" she screamed. Hanna's eyes opened with more tears draining down her cheeks. All courage had been lost. She knew her life was coming to a torturous end.

Ghoul waved the knife back and forth. "If I had been kidnapped and given a choice to call anyone, it would have been the police." Ghoul smiled at her. "But hey, that's just me."

### 7

Brandi attempted several times to call Seth, along with texting him. She spent the entire hour of soccer practice with this endeavor, but to no avail.

Alyssa finished her last penalty lap, eight in all. The coach gave her a high five and complimented her on doing the laps without complaint. She smiled and drank down a Gatorade.

"Alyssa!" Brandi yelled. "Let's go!"

Alyssa walked at a snails pace, much different from the energetic girl before practice. Brandi had already started the van. Then as Alyssa climbed in, Brandi hit the gas.

"Jesus, mom. What's the hurry?"

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain."

"I didn't." Alyssa buckled her seatbelt. "If I said, 'Jesus Christ, mom, slow down,' then I would be taking the Lord's name in vain."

"Good point," Brandi replied. "I'm just worried about your father."

"Did you two have a fight?"

"No."

"Is he depressed?"

Brandi thought about the question. That could be the problem on why Seth had been obsessed with these visions. Maybe he was unhappy? But could this other side of Seth, dark and malevolent, be created by depression?

As Brandi drove into their neighborhood she said, "We may need to-" Her mouth stayed open, but no words would come out. Police cars, along with unmarked patrol cars were parked outside Maxine and Kristy's house next door. Brandi pulled into the driveway. She looked at Alyssa. "Get inside the house."

Alyssa opened the door. "I want to see what's going on."

"Do what I say!" Brandi snapped. She didn't mean to be angry with her daughter, but her emotions were on overdrive. Thankfully, Alyssa hustled inside the house without further argument.

A Fox News van pulled up, followed by all the other major networks. Helicopters floated above the houses. Neighbors outside watching the scene.

Maxine appeared from the side door, escorted by three men dressed in suits. Her skin pale as chalk and maroon circles bounded her swollen eyes. She ran to Brandi like a frightened child. They embraced, both holding on tight.

"My God, what happened?" Brandi asked.

Maxine let go and stepped back. "Kristy is missing."

Brandi's veins pumped with a dreaded fear. "What are you talking about?"

"I woke up this morning, went to her room..." Maxine began crying. She bent over, barely audible. "She was gone. I called all her friends. No one has seen her. She's never left without telling me."

One of the men dressed in a suit approached. He introduced himself, but all Brandi heard was the word _detective_. She felt disconnected. Severed from reality. The detective cleared his throat and spoke louder. "I understand that you are Ms. Blackwell's neighbor."

Brandi gazed at Maxine, unable to imagine the horror of what had been going through her mind at this moment. "We've been neighbors for over twenty years."

"When was the last time you saw Kristy?"

Brandi continued to stare at her best friend. Spectators gathered in the street as if the world was about to collapse on their front lawns. "I said hello to her yesterday."

"What time?"

"About 3:30. Kristy had just arrived home from school."

"Did she say anything?"

Brandi met her eyes with the detective. He was tall with a clean face and short blond hair. He had an intense expression while holding a notepad and pen. "She just said 'hi.'"

"Did Kristy seem upset?"

"No. In fact I was thinking at the time how happy she looked, especially after coming home from a long day of school."

The detective made a few notes. "Who else lives with you?"

"My husband and daughter."

"I would like to speak with them."

"Well, my daughter is inside."

"Is your husband at work?"

"No. He's..." Brandi paused. She had no idea where Seth was.

The detective flipped his notepad shut and stepped forward. "Ma'am, where is your husband?"

Brandi felt the air seep from her lungs. Kristy was sixteen-years-old. Seth claimed last night that he saw a sixteen-year-old girl in his vision who was going to be a serial killer. Murder fifty people. Maybe more. He was going to kidnap the girl, then kill her. Brandi of course didn't believe her husband was serious, nor capable of such a malevolent act.

Now she stood in front of a sea of police and media. Maxine's daughter is missing.

"Ma'am," the detective said with a hard tone. "I need you to answer my question...Where's your husband?"

Brandi inhaled a tiny pocket of air. She had to tell the truth. "I don't where he is."

### 8

It was all over the news. Ghoul watched as he sipped a Red Bull and snacked on chunks of watermelon.

" _At 9:05 last night, eighteen-year-old daughter of Kendrick Maynard, Hanna Maynard, was abducted from the backyard of her Livonia, Michigan home. At the time of her abduction she had been talking to her boyfriend, Gibor Figgins, on her cell phone. Then at 10:37 p.m., Gibor received a call from Hanna. She said, 'I've been kidnapped. He took me from my home when I was on the phone with you.' Hanna went on to say, 'I love you. Goodbye.'_ "

Ghoul finished his Red Bull. He sat upright on the bed and formed a grin. Nothing better than a serial killer getting some good media coverage. It was on every channel.

" _Police at this time have no suspects. However, Kendrick Maynard and his wife Pricilla have made plenty of enemies over the years. Kendrick is the owner of eleven abortion clinics and the mastermind behind the No Tell Law. This new law gives teenage girls the right to be sent to a clinic during school hours so they can have an abortion. Pricilla Maynard is one of the leading activists for the Pro Choice movement. It is noted that the Maynard's do give a substantial amount of money to charities._ "

Ghoul plopped the last chunk of watermelon in his mouth. He was a little upset that the police didn't have any leads. Ghoul had sent a letter to Fox News, but it must not have been made public yet. That was regrettable, but it would only be a matter of time.

" _In a related story, a sixteen-year-old girl was abducted from her home early this morning in Jacksonville, Florida._ "

Ghoul leaned forward, snatched the remote, and turned the volume up.

" _Kristy Blackwell was said to be taken sometime between midnight and 5:00 a.m. Her parents are divorced and Kristy lives alone with her mother._ "

Ghoul shook his head and continued to grin. This was amazing.

" _Moe Blackwell, Kristy's father, is being questioned. Maxine Blackwell, Kristy's mother, claims that Moe has not been in contact with her daughter. In fact, the last time they have seen him was fourteen years ago._ "

Ghoul wondered if the father had something to do with his daughter's disappearance. Would the sick bastard show up one day and claim ownership of Kristy? Executing a plan like that would take some sort of effort. Guys like Moe have enough trouble getting on and off the barstool. No, it couldn't have been him.

Ghoul lifted the bowl and drank the watermelon juice, his eyes still watching the news.

" _Also being questioned is the Blackwell's neighbor, Seth Stone._ "

A picture of Seth was put up on screen. He was an African-American, well built, with a caring expression.

"That's the one you idiots should be looking for!" Ghoul chuckled, placing the empty bowl back on the table. He spit out a couple watermelon seeds that lingered in his mouth.

" _Seth was last seen by his wife around midnight. She claims he was upset, but she would not go into detail. If you have seen Seth Stone, please notify police._ "

A tip hotline number appeared at the bottom of the screen.

Ghoul shut the TV off. Once the letter that he sent to Fox News has been made public, the authorities in Michigan will have a lead, even if they despise the Maynard's. The letter will keep police motivated and world interested.

It was also about time for the country to know that a serial killer has been active for the last seven years. Families who have been searching for their missing loved ones need to give up hope. The bodies won't be found.

Some of the victims are buried in California. Ghoul recalled when he broke a piece of glass and placed it in-between two trees near the location of where he hid the bodies. The glass magnified the rays, heated, and caught the needles on fire. This turned into a massive inferno that stretched for miles.

Just as the rain corrupts evidence, so does fire. Elements assist the serial killer in many ways. All footprints, body hair, and DNA from the serial killer would be gone forever.

The families of their departed loved ones will have their emotions flipped from a sense of loss, to a feeling of dread.

As for the missing girl in Jacksonville, he would deal with that in a different way. No one will take the limelight away from the serial killer. That's not how it works. Kristy Blackwell will become famous, but on Ghoul's terms.

### 9

The Washington D.C. gym was called, "Body Armor." Two boxers were going at it with a fury of a middleweight title bought.

The music of a 1980's heavy metal band, Judas Priest, blared on the speakers. The larger boxer wore dark blue, the smaller in all black. They were in the second round and the entire gym of spectators watched with great interest. Body Armor was a hangout for secret service and bodyguards. Every one of these maniacs was willing to put their lives on the line for their client, whether that was a senator, movie star, or child of some rich CEO. The money, the job, and the thrill were what these bodyguards craved.

Dark Blue began to wear down, much to the displeasure of the on-looking crowd. Everyone took a break from their workouts to watch this fight, because all of them bet twenty bucks on Dark Blue.

Right now, their money was in danger.

All Black connected with a series of jabs. Both wore headgear, but the blows still impacted with a thunderous crash. All Black was relentless, seeming to have an infinite amount of energy. Dark Blue stumbled back, arms like rubber, unable to defend himself.

Judas Priest continued with a deafening scream over the speakers, " _You got another thing coming..._ "

All Black sensed the weakness of Dark Blue and went on the attack with four more jabs, two uppercuts, and a knockout left hook.

Dark Blue fell against the ropes and crumbled to the mat. The crowd of testosterone let out a collective sigh.

All Black peeled off her headgear. A mop of frizzy red hair popped out. Her name was Courtney Egan. The guys called her Shirley Temple behind her back; never to her face. Instead they used the nickname Court. Anyone that called her Shirley Temple would end up in the ring.

They would suffer just like Dark Blue.

Court took off her gloves and helped Dark Blue to his feet. "You okay, Tony?"

He shook the cobwebs out of his head. "Yeah. I owe you twenty bucks."

Court had mercy on him. "Nah." She turned to the rest of the group. "But all of _you_ cheep bastards owe me twenty. Let's go, pay up!"

Through all the groans and complaints, the male bodyguards and secret service agents paid their bets. She was out of a job right now, but the money didn't matter. She wanted everyone with a penis to cough up their beer funds.

"Court!" a guy yelled from the locker room. It was someone they called, Just Ray. He got that nickname because whenever he would walk into the room or into the gym, people would say, "Oh, it's just Ray."

She rolled up the six hundred dollars of earnings into a wad and used a towel to wipe her face. Court then hurried to the locker room that she shared with the boys. There was only one place to change, but she wasn't shy. Being timid or bashful in a gym called Body Armor was a sure way to expose weaknesses.

Just Ray said, "Did you ever hear of vibrate? Your phone's been ringing the last half hour."

Court opened her locker. "The only time I use vibrate is at night in bed."

Just Ray laughed and left her alone. Whenever she was in the locker room most of the guys gave her a few minutes to shower and change. A few hard-on secret service agents who worked for the vice president didn't care about her privacy. But for the most part, everyone liked having Court around and respected her.

Court wrapped the towel around her neck and checked her cell phone. There were seven missed calls. The first six were from Pricilla Maynard. Court had not spoken to any of the Maynard's in over a month since she quit her bodyguard job.

Her assignment over the last two years was to protect Hanna Maynard. They became like sisters. Court would talk to Hanna about her boyfriends, school, and she even gave advice on what outfits Hanna should wear.

First rule of protecting someone: Do not get emotionally involved.

Six months ago Court had no other choice but to quit, leaving behind a $100,000 salary, a free room, and free meals.

The Maynard's hired another female bodyguard. Court knew her somewhat. Her name was Riana Urban, a mix of Hispanic and African-American. Previously, Riana protected musicians who performed gangster rap. She had even taken a bullet while her client was leaving a concert.

Hanna would not become attached to Riana, which was why Court suggested her.

As for Pricilla Maynard, she was not the type of person that would call just to say hello. Pricilla was downright pissed that Court had quit.

The seventh missed call was even more mysterious. It was from Court's older sister, Maxine, who lived in Jacksonville with her daughter, Kristy. Court tried to stay in contact, but Maxine was still holding a grudge over what happened fourteen years ago when Kristy was two-years-old.

Maxine came home early to find Court in the guestroom with her husband, Moe. The truth was that Court had been babysitting her niece, because Maxine had to work and Moe wanted to meet his friends at the bar. Court put Kristy down for a nap and then she went to the guestroom to catch up on some much needed sleep. Moe came home drunk, took off all his clothes, and crawled into bed with Court. Maxine arrived a few minutes later.

Court was so exhausted she didn't even wake up until Maxine screamed from the bedroom door.

After years of trying to explain what happened, Maxine never got over it. Court figured that one day the truth would come out and Maxine would discover that it wasn't Court's doing.

Nevertheless, Moe did not stick around to take the blame.

Before calling Pricilla or Maxine back, Court decided to shower and put on fresh clothes. A nervous chill shivered her skin. What could her former employer want?

An even more baffling question: Why was her sister calling after all these years?

### 10

Ghoul watched the news broadcast, this time with much more satisfaction.

" _We have a late breaking update from the Hanna Maynard abduction. Fox News is the first to report..._ "

"Just get on with it," Ghoul spat out.

" _A note was sent to Fox News from the apparent kidnapper of Hanna Maynard. We held back on the report to verify with police the authenticity of the letter..._ "

"You got to be kidding me! Spill it!"

" _The letter says, 'I've killed sixty-four people in the last seven years. Hanna Maynard will make number sixty-five. I will give you until June 1_ st _to find me. After that, Hanna will suffer more than she already has.'_ "

Ghoul smiled. "Nice."

" _The note went on to list all sixty-four people that he claimed to have killed. Each person on the list had been reported as missing._ "

"Beautiful."

" _Police are searching for a suspect in this case..._ "

Ghoul leaned forward and lost his joyful expression.

" _His name is, Nester Grath. Police found a hair sample in the envelope that was sent to Fox News, along with a partial fingerprint; both belonging to Nester._ "

Ghoul did not move.

" _Nester's home in Hollywood, California had been searched. It appears that he had not been there in at least a month. Nester Grath is a Caucasian, 6'3, with buzzed hair and tan skin. If you have seen him, please notify the police hotline right away._ "

The number appeared on the screen.

" _Fox News located someone who knows Nester Grath very well. His name is Warren Browning; a friend of Nester's since high school._ "

Ghoul sat on the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the screen.

News Anchor: " _Warren, thanks for taking time to speak with us._ "

Warren: " _It's my pleasure. I'll do anything to help._ "

Anchor: " _How well do you know Nester Grath?_ "

Warren: " _We've been friends since school._ "

Anchor: " _When was the last time you've seen him?_ "

Warren: " _We ran into each other at a club in Hollywood about a month ago._ "

Anchor: " _How was Nester's demeanor?_ "

Warren: " _Like something was on his mind._ "

Ghoul let out a huff. "Liar!"

Anchor: " _What was Nester like in high school?_ "

Warren: " _He was screwed up._ "

Anchor: " _Meaning?_ "

Warren: " _Nester was tall, pale skin, and long black hair. He was obsessed with death. Always talked about it._ "

Anchor: " _How did the other students treat him?_ "

Warren: " _No one really talked to Nester; at least not to his face. We had a nickname for him._ "

Anchor: " _What did you call him?_ "

Warren: " _Ghoul._ "

A shoe went through the television screen. Ghoul stepped back, shaking the glass off his leg. His eyes narrowed and face became hard. "Nester Grath is a nobody." A stream of saliva dripped from Ghoul's mouth. "Warren Browning of Hollywood, California...We need to have a chat."

### 11

Since there were six calls from Pricilla and only one call from Maxine, Court decided to call Pricilla first.

"Courtney, I'm so happy you got back to me," Pricilla said. It sounded as if she had been crying. "We need your help."

Court was afraid of that. "Mrs. Maynard, you know why I left. I'm too emotionally attached to the family."

"Which is why I called."

"What do you mean?"

"Hanna was abducted last night." Pricilla waited for a reaction, but all the air had left Court's lungs. She could not speak or move. "Police believe it may be someone named, Nester Grath. He claims to have kidnapped and murdered sixty-four other people over the last seven years."

"My God."

"We aren't very popular around here. I'm sure the police are doing everything they can, but we cannot be sure."

"What do you need from me?"

"Nester claims that we have to find him by June 1st, or he'll kill her." Pricilla began to cry so hard she was barely audible. "We need you here, Courtney. Can you please help us?"

"Of course. I'm in D.C. right now."

"We'll arrange for a first-class ticket. See you soon."

Court flipped the phone shut and glanced at the calendar on the wall. It was Saturday, May 10th. Police had nineteen and a half days to locate Hanna.

Some of the guys came into the locker room. Court snatched up her duffle bag and headed out the door.

In Washington she had been staying with one of her friends, Kady Adams, who was a secret service agent for Senator John McCain. Kady was on assignment in Arizona with the senator, so Court had the apartment all to herself.

As for clothes, Court traveled light. Bodyguards always did. They didn't spend their money on material items, because you never knew when the job would end or how much you would be moving from place to place. Court had five pairs of jeans that she wore with black T-Shirts. She had two pairs of black slacks and white blouses. One black sports coat. A couple of workout clothes, an oversized T-shirt to sleep in, and a weeks worth of bra's, underwear, and socks.

That was it. All could be packed in a suitcase and a travel bag. She had a registered Glock and a Tasor. That was the extent of her weapons. In reality, if someone wanted to kill her client, there wasn't much that could be done. You cannot stop a person who is willing to trade their life for another. On the other hand, if Court was lucky, she may be able to throw herself in front of a stray bullet and give the client a few extra seconds to escape.

The odds were small that anyone would survive, but that was the job.

Court waved down a cab. "Airport," she said as she climbed in. Court debated on calling her sister. What in the world could she want? Maybe she was short on cash and had nowhere else to turn. Possibly her ex-husband, Moe, has come back into the picture and wants to start a new life with his daughter.

After a few more minutes of debating, Court decided to end the suspense. If Maxine called, for whatever the reason, it must have been important.

"Hello," Maxine said. She sounded just like Pricilla with a soft and emotional voice. "I feel honored that you found time to call me back."

"I'm sorry. I was in the gym." Court had no reason to apologize. It was as if they were in their old routine. Maxine blaming Court for everything and Court apologizing to keep the peace.

"Have you heard?"

At first Court thought that Maxine was talking about Hanna Maynard being abducted. It would have national media coverage because of the Maynard's high profile with abortion and Pro Choice movement.

"I know about Hanna Maynard. I'm heading to Michigan right now."

"Typical," Maxine snapped back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your niece has been all over the news and all you can think about is someone else."

"What are you talking about? I haven't seen the news. Is Kristy-"

"She's been taken!" Maxine yelled. "Just thought you should know."

Court couldn't believe what she just heard. How was it possible to have the same conversation with two different people in less than five minutes? "When did this happen?"

"Sometime after midnight and before I woke up."

"Was it Moe?"

Maxine took a moment to answer. "The police don't think so. He was in Dallas at the time, passed out in a bar. A cab driver claimed to have driven him back to his trailer at 2:20 in the morning. It's possible that he sent someone to get Kristy. Police are looking into that right now." Maxine breathed heavy through the phone.

"Any other leads?"

"Our next door neighbor is missing as well."

"What was his name, Sam?"

"Seth," Maxine responded, followed by a long moment of crying. "Police are trying to find him."

"Could Seth have taken Kristy?"

"It doesn't seem plausible, but who knows."

Court gazed out the window. The day was sunny, yet it seemed full of gloom. People walked the streets with a bounce in their step, but all Court could see was trash cluttering the sidewalks and buildings that were falling apart. "I'll come to your house."

"Thought you were going to Michigan?"

"I could-"

Maxine sighed through the phone. "You know what, don't bother. I'll call you if they find her." She hung up.

"I'm sorry," Court whispered under her breath.

She stared at the back of the cab driver's head. _Two_ _kidnappings in the same night_ , she thought.

Both Kristy and Hanna needed her help. Court had to make a decision. Would she fly to Florida or Michigan?

### 12

Seth had abandoned his car in a McDonald's parking lot about twenty miles from his home. Over the last six months he had prepared for the day when he would break just about every law and kidnap his next-door neighbor's child.

Using cash, he purchased a 2006 midnight blue Dodge Charger. Seth needed a car with power and speed, yet blended with other vehicles on the highway. He hid the Charger in a parking garage located in downtown, Jacksonville, under a false name of course. In the trunk he had two suitcases full of clothes and supplies. One suitcase was for him.

One for Kristy.

She was next to him, sleeping. Her wrists and ankles secured with rope. He had forced her to take ten milligrams of Zolphidem, which was a generic form of the sleeping pill, Ambien. The prescription was suggested by his doctor after Seth complained that he couldn't sleep. When Seth finally dosed off, he was awoken by nightmares. He needed the drug or lose his sanity.

Even with a sleeping pill, Seth would stay up late talking with Brandi about his visions. Both would eventually fall asleep with absolute exhaustion and no answers.

As for Seth, the Ambien helped, but wouldn't save him from what he saw in the darkest part of his mind.

When his daughter Alyssa was at soccer practice he sent a text message to Brandi. There was not much to say, but "I'm sorry." He then threw his cell phone out the window.

As he traveled through Georgia, Seth kept the speed limit under eighty miles per hour.

It was ten o'clock in the morning with the sun blazing through the window on Kristy's side, exposing the anguish in her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut with the eyeballs fighting to escape.

The morning continued to slip by as he made it to Virginia without being caught. In some ways that was disappointing. If the police captured him this would all be over.

According to the radio, police started their search in the Jacksonville area. That was a big mistake and a huge advantage for Seth. By that time, he was already two states away. They hadn't even found his Honda Civic yet.

This was too easy. It was meant to be.

"Where are we," Kristy asked, startling Seth. Her voice cracked with fatigue, just above a whisper. "What's going on?"

He kept one eye on the road and one eye on Kristy. Her skin seemed ghost-like, her long face expressionless, and eyes with only a hint of green. He had always thought that she had blonde hair, but for some reason, it had a trace of red today. Perhaps an illusion from the sunrays.

Maybe hair changes color under duress.

He had an outfit ready for her: T-shirt, jeans, underwear, bra, socks, and tennis shoes, along with a sweatshirt. When she had fallen into a deep slumber he had pulled th car over and changed her clothes with the exception of her underwear. He placed her pajamas in the suitcase with the other items he purchased in advance. Besides abducting Kristy, changing her clothes felt like a mortal sin that could not be forgiven. He attempted to keep his eyes shut most of the time and hurried to get it over with.

That was three hours ago. He had plenty of time to second-guessing every decision he had made until now. He cleared his throat, attempting to speak, but nothing came out. It was simple questions that Kristy asked, 'Where are we?' And, 'What's going on?' Nonetheless, his didn't have any answers.

Over the years he had spoken to Kristy many times as a friend and father figure. Now, he was her kidnapper. "We're in Virginia, about a half-hour away from West Virginia."

Kristy examined her bound wrists, ankles, then looked outside. She obviously considered her situation, realizing what had happened. It wouldn't be long before she lost control.

Seth looked in the mirror and saw a few cars behind him. He attempted to stay away from the flow of the traffic.

"Why..." Kristy shook her head, probably still trying to make sense of what's going on. "Why did you kidnap me? Are you insane?"

Seth wondered the same thing. It was a reasonable question. "I have to tell you something, but you're not going to believe me."

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" Kristy's eyes welled up with tears. She looked out the back window, then in the backseat. "Do you have a gun?"

"No."

"A knife?"

"No."

"Why am I tied up?" she screamed.

How in God's name was Seth going to explain why he took her? The problem was, he could _not_ explain. "I want you to stay calm for a moment."

She leaned toward the passenger's door. "Let me out of here!"

Kristy was about to make an escape attempt even though they were going seventy-five miles per hour and her hands and ankles were bound with rope. Even if she lived from the fall, passing cars might see what happened and call the police.

"If you give me five minutes without doing anything stupid, I'll tell you why I did this."

"And after five minutes?"

"Then we can decide together what to do." Seth was telling the truth. He wanted this to be over.

Seth recalled his father's words, which he repeated more than anything else. 'The only true way to stop the killer in your visions is to murder them.'

There was no way he could go through with it, even if that's what he admitted to Brandi. Sure, there may have been a moment when he actually believed that he was capable of such a terrible act. The vision had haunted him for many years. Fate brought him and Kristy together, as predicted by his father. It wasn't coincidence that the serial killer in his vision lived next door.

Kristy still waited for Seth to speak as he thought about more wisdom from his father. 'You have to decide to be courageous,' his father would say. 'Don't make the same mistake as I did, or as my father and grandfather made. None of us had the valor to stop the person in our vision and many suffered because of it.'

Seth didn't believe the word _valor_ no more than he believed in _murder_. Neither should be uttered in the same breath when talking about a sixteen-year-old girl.

After a long pause and careful consideration, he began to tell Kristy about the visions and what she was going to do. How she would murder fifty or more people. Become a serial killer. He saw flames in his vision and skin burned off innocent people. Seth didn't want to hurt Kristy, but how could he just stand by and wait for her to do such evil?

When Seth finished, he glanced at her. She hadn't moved, nor said a word. "That's why I did this," he said. "Yes, I may be insane. My father died believing that we were cursed with this gift. My brother and sister believe the same thing." He paused, took in a deep breath, and wiped away a tear that rimmed under his eye. "I suppose whether you believe me or not doesn't matter."

Kristy pulled in a deep breath. "What does matter?"

Seth looked at her. "What do you think I should do?"

### 13

It was late afternoon when Court arrived at the Maynard house. Protestors were outside the gate waving signs that said, "Now you know how it feels," and "Eye for an eye," and "You got what you deserved."

It was hard to believe how cold people could be. Was it Kendrick Maynard's fault that female high school students decided to go to his clinics and have an abortion? Why weren't these protestors outside the houses of pregnant teenagers? Why don't these protestors go after parents who do not teach their children responsibility?

Mr. Maynard's personal bodyguard opened the front door. "Hey, Court."

"Hey, Tyler."

"Come on in." He moved to the side and gave Court a friendly pat on the back.

Tyler was the head of the Maynard's security. Just over a month ago he was Court's boss. At that time he had unshakable confidence, self-control, and ideas that the average bodyguard would never come up with. He was dedicated to his job and believed that every client should be protected in the same fashion as the President of the United States.

Now, however, he looked dejected and weak. His tan skin lost its color. His large frame slouched in defeat. Even his hair looked like he had just woken up.

"Where's the Maynard's?" Court asked. She did a quick examination of the house. Everything seemed exactly the same with the exception of the dining room. There were four FBI agents, computers, phone lines, files, and stacks of empty coffee cups.

"Pricilla is upstairs. Kendrick is in Wisconsin. One of his employees was shot at a clinic and probably won't live. However, Kendrick will be back in the morning."

Court raised an eyebrow. "You aren't with him?"

Tyler let out a sigh. "I'll be lucky to still have a job when this is over. Kendrick said he wants to meet with me when he returns. I'm sure he's going to fire my ass. Though for the moment none of us are permitted to leave, because the FBI may have more questions."

Court glanced up at the ceiling. "Is Pricilla coming down?"

"No. She's been given a sedative. I'll brief you on your assignment in the study."

Court knew the way and took the initiative to march past the FBI agents who gawked at her. One thing they don't like is someone pissing in their yard. This was their investigation. By the looks on their faces all of them knew why she was here.

Tyler went to the kitchen, returned with two bottles of waters and four slices of cheese pizza and met her in the study.

"I thought the Maynard's didn't permit that kind of food in the house?" Court asked, sitting on the leather couch. The Maynard's only ate health food, vegetables, and fruit. The bodyguards could eat whatever they wanted, but only when off duty, which was rare. They weren't permitted to bring food back to the property and were restricted to one glass of liquor or two beers. Kendrick had a breathalyzer that he randomly used to check each employee.

Tyler handed Court the plate with two slices of pizza and sat down on the leather chair. "The FBI has been breaking the _junk food_ rule. Besides, the Maynard's have other things on their mind."

"That's for sure," Court replied. Both took a minute to eat before discussing business. The silence was bearable. It brought back memories of quietly eating with the other bodyguards and enjoying a few minutes of peace.

Court's eyes wandered around the study. She had not come in here that often except to get a novel off the bookshelf. Kendrick didn't keep valuable business information on or in his desk. In fact the study was more for show than anything else. This room was probably the least used in the house.

Which explains why Tyler chose it to have their meeting.

Court drew in a deep breath and stared at him. "Okay, what happened?"

"Hanna was outside walking around the pool and outdoor kitchen."

"I told her not to do the same thing everyday. Routine is an advantage to kidnappers."

Tyler put his hands up. "Hanna and her parents are creatures of habit. It's been difficult to get them to change anything."

"Where was Riana?"

"On the porch, watching Hanna."

"Why wasn't she in the yard?"

"It was raining. Hanna had an umbrella. Riana was on the porch smoking."

Court leaned forward. "I didn't know she smoked?"

"It was weed," Tyler admitted. "I didn't know. Riana confessed it to the FBI."

"What did Riana see?"

"Not much. The rain was coming down pretty hard. Hanna did her lap around the outdoor kitchen and never reappeared."

"The motion lights didn't come on?"

"They did, but it was still hard to see."

Court sat back on the couch. "And the property alarms weren't set, because Hanna was in the backyard."

"Correct."

"Where's Riana now?"

"Staying in a hotel. Obviously she was fired on the spot, but the FBI needs her to stick around."

"Any chance it was one of Riana's previous gangster clients?"

Tyler took a sip of his water. "I considered that, but we both know Riana. She's a good person."

Court shook her head. "Agreed."

Tyler slid a thick file across the coffee table toward her. "A man by the name of Nester Grath claims to have abducted Hanna. He also maintains to have killed sixty-four people. None of that is confirmed by police. This is all circumstantial right now, because the FBI doesn't have any hard evidence that Nester has her. He sent a letter to Fox News stating that Hanna will be killed on June 1st unless police find him."

Court paused, waiting for Tyler to look at her. "I need to ask you something."

He gave her a tired grin. "Where was _I_ when this happened?"

"Sorry, have to ask."

"Sleeping in my room. We just came back from a long trip with Kendrick and I was exhausted."

"And the other bodyguards?"

"Logan was sitting outside the Maynard's bedroom. Justin was in the front doing a property search. Wade was at Pizza Hut. Cameron was screwing his girlfriend at her apartment."

"Anything else?"

Tyler opened the manila folder and picked up a check. He dropped it in front of her and said, "Deposit this right away. Pricilla said if you need more, let her know."

She looked down at the check. It was made out to Courtney Egan for a million dollars.

### 14

"What should we do?" Seth asked.

Kristy squirmed in her seat. "Will you untie me?"

"No. Not right this second."

"We're going seventy down the highway. I can't go anywhere."

"Like you said, we're going seventy down the highway. If you tried to escape, there isn't much I could do about it except swerve off to the side of the road and probably kill us both."

"Fine," Kristy conceded. "You do realize that you're looking at serious prison time."

Seth understood that, but obviously at this point it didn't matter. "I'm aware," he mumbled.

"And you understand that there's no way you can get out of this now. It's too late."

"Thank you. Yes, I understand."

"So what do you want from me?"

"Well for starters, do you believe in the visions I told you about?"

"No, because I wouldn't hurt anyone. In fact I hate blood. I can't even watch horror movies." She glared at him. "You're saying that sometime soon I will turn into a serial killer. That is ridicules in so many ways I don't know where to begin." She continued with a hard glare. "Another thing is that I've known you for a long time. You've been like a father to me. There's no way you will murder me because of some stupid vision. I'm not even scared anymore."

Everything she said was true, but Seth didn't want her to be deceived. There's a killer hidden deep inside everyone. Being insane makes it that much easier.

Seth cleared his throat. "Imagine that you have a sharp pain in your stomach. You felt it everyday, for years and years. The only way to get rid of that agony is to cut your stomach open and take out what is causing the problem."

"That's gross."

"And then you find out that you will die soon if this isn't taken care of. Doctors are not an option. At this point, you will do anything to feel even a moment of relief. So you cut into your skin with a knife and yank out what is causing the pain."

Kristy shook her head. "What does that even mean?"

"I'm saying that the affliction, which is the visions, has overtaken my mind and time has run out."

Patches of red formed on her cheeks. Kristy had finally understood the situation. She spoke in a low, careful voice. "There are two possibilities. The first is that you're right. I'm going to kill at least fifty people and you are the only one that can stop me. If that's the case, then everything you are doing makes sense. However, maybe enough time will pass while I'm with you, the visions will go away, and we both can return to whatever life we have left."

Seth didn't agree with her. He could never return to a normal life and the visions may not go away. It just didn't seem possible. The only way to stop death was with death.

"Okay, is there another option?"

"It's a good possibility that you're wrong," Kristy said in a braver voice. "And even if you have the foresight to predict an evil, I don't believe you could become an executioner."

This time, Seth agreed with her. "I've battled with that notion so long; nothing seems to make sense anymore."

Kristy twisted her body, doing her best to face him. "There was a girl named Mary Bell who lived in England. She was ten-years-old and strangled two toddlers. No one could have seen that coming, but let's say that _you_ did. Would you kill Mary Bell to save the toddlers? If the answer is yes, then are you any better than the she is? If the answer is no, then what are we doing here?"

Seth squeezed the steering wheel. A glob of sweat formed under his palms. "Do you know the show, _Twilight Zone_?"

"You mean with all the vampires?"

Seth smiled and released his grip. "No. It was a TV series before you were born. The director of the show, John Landis, ignored safety measures on the set even though he was well aware of what could happen."

"Did anything go wrong?"

"A male actor and two child actors were killed because of his failure to do something about it."

"Yes, but that's different."

"How?"

"He wouldn't have to commit a crime in order to do the right thing."

Seth glanced at her. "And yet, it was a crime that he didn't do the right thing."

Kristy blew out a sigh. "I'm not sure what you want from me. You obviously made a decision. If you're asking my advice, I would say drop me off at the nearest highway emergency phone and let me call 911."

"That's the easy way out."

She banged her head on the seat. After a few moments of frustration, her pale skin turned a bright red. "What do you want me to say? You're right. Go ahead and kill me or hold me captive until you feel the danger is over! I can't say that!"

Seth had been searching for another way to resolve this, but in reality, there's no point in fighting their future.

If Seth truly believed in these visions-which by his actions he _does_ believe-then he would have to kill her and suffer the consequences.

### 15

When someone writes a check for a million dollars their intent is to purchase a guarantee that whatever they're buying will work.

Court didn't have the resources the police or FBI had. No money in the world would change that. It was May 11th. Hanna's death was one day closer.

It's time for drastic measures. Perhaps, _desperate_ measures would be a more precise word. Court did a Google search for Jon Truss. His name was on the top of the search list, which wasn't surprising since he was the bestselling fiction author in the world right now. His psychological thriller, _Bullet to Bone_ , sold about 50,000 copies a month.

Court and Jon grew up together in Rose Water, Ohio. They experimented with their first kiss. First touch of the privates. And the first time they had sex was with each other, in the park at midnight when they both snuck out of the house.

After high school, both of them drifted apart, but met once in awhile to catch up. It was always the same thing: "Hey, how are you? What have you been doing lately? Do you want to get drunk and have sex?"

Besides Jon, the only sex Court has experienced was with her roommate Kady, or with Court's vibrator that she nicknamed, Volcano.

Jon was on a book tour. At 3:00, he's scheduled to sign books at the Chicago Barnes & Nobel. Court purchased a first-class ticket on the next available flight and made it to Chicago with plenty of time before the book signing started. While in the cab, she called her sister. "Any word on Kristy?"

"Nothing yet," Maxine replied. She sounded out of breath. "They're expanding their search."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm crying! Is that all right?"

"Sorry," Court said. "Please, tell me what I can do to help."

"Honesty, there isn't much you can do. The FBI is now involved. I'll be on the 6:00 news to give a statement. Everyone is looking for her. I'm sure..." Maxine paused for a long moment. "I don't know what else can be done."

Court felt like her heart had been squeezed inside her chest. "I'm in Chicago right now. Can I please come and see you?"

After another long pause Maxine said, "Of course. When do want to come?"

"Later tonight or early tomorrow."

"See you then." Maxine hung up.

Court felt helpless. There wasn't much she could do for Kristy and Hanna except pray. However, the one thing she refused to do was sit on her ass and wait.

The Barnes & Noble was packed. People who were there for the book signing had been roped off in groups. Court watched as Jon entered from the rear of the store. The crowd of onlookers lit up as if he was a rock star.

When you think about those with _star_ quality, Jon was the whole package. He was tall, lean, with black hair that he kept short. His dark eyes were sharp and five o'clock shadow fashionably in length. He wore a midnight blue dress shirt, black tie, and gray slacks. Jon walked with confidence, making eye contact with every person in the store.

He saw Court.

She suddenly realized that she was nervous. She had seen him at book signings before. In spite of this, for some reason, it seemed different.

He waved her over. Behind him were two bodyguards which she knew by name. In fact, she recommended them for the job. Before talking to Jon, she shook their hands. "Hey Gary. Hey Rodney. How you fellow's doing?" They were the same massive size, both dressed in navy blue T-shirts and jeans. Gary was Caucasian and Rodney was African-America. That was about the only difference.

Rodney whispered in her ear, "Easiest money we've ever made. Thank you."

She smiled. "No problem."

Jon said, "Well hello Shirley Temple. Nice to see you here."

"Most people would get their butt whipped for calling me that."

He hugged her. "I'm not most people."

Jon didn't let go right away. Court felt the hundreds of eyes on them. She whispered in his ear, "I won't keep you. Just wanted to know-"

"I'm staying at The Peninsula," he said with a smirk. "Meet me there at 5:30 and we'll have dinner."

Court held her gaze for a moment. If it were socially acceptable she would rip off her clothes, tear down his pants, and plow him right on the table by his books. Instead, she gave him quick wink and said, "I'm looking forward to it."

### 16

Brandi was asked to come next door. Maxine had not wanted to speak with her because Seth was accused of abducting Kristy. Deep down, Brandi couldn't believe that, although all evidence pointed in his direction.

When the FBI asked about Brandi and Seth's last conversation, she lied. Brandi only told the FBI that Seth hadn't been sleeping well. She refused to tell the Fed's about his visions and what he planned to do.

Brandi wanted to give her husband a chance. Maybe there was a way out of this. If so, the last thing she would do is take away all hope. Her husband is a good, spiritual man. He couldn't have done this.

But where was he? Could it be that the man she loved and married had become a kidnapper?

In the street, media vans, cameras, and reporters camped out. Angry onlookers held racial hate signs. Seth was an African-American and Kristy a young Caucasian girl. That's more than enough to turn this into a racial incident.

Brandi lowered her head to avoid eye contact and hurried across the lawn to Maxine's house.

"Hello, I'm Special Agent Mike Willis of the FBI," a man said at the door. He was dressed in a blue suit and red tie. His skin tan, hair cut short, and face clean. "I've been put in charge of the case. We would like to give you an update."

Before she walked in, Brandi asked, "I don't understand? You want to update me? Why?" She looked at Maxine, but her friend kept her head down.

"We want to give you both the latest information at the same time. Please, come in."

Brandi thought that this must be some sort of FBI psychological trick. Why would they put her and Maxine in the same room?

Immediately inside the door, six other Fed's, along with Maxine, sat in the living room. All of them looked at her, except for Maxine, who had a dead stare at the floor. The sun had fallen and vanished from the sky. It gave the room a flash of light, followed by darkness. Lamps in the room had already been turned on, yet created a bizarre shadow on the agent's faces.

Brandi sat down in the only other chair available, which was next to Maxine.

"The reason for the meeting is to inform everyone of the latest," Mike said. He stood in front of everyone, made eye contact, and was confident in his speech. "First, we found Seth's Honda Civic in downtown Jacksonville."

Brandi's heart stopped. "Is Seth okay? What about Kristy? Did they find her?"

Maxine turned in her chair. "Don't act like you care about Kristy!"

"I do care," Brandi replied. She couldn't believe the hate in her best friend's eyes. Maxine's glare was hard and full of disgust.

"Ladies, please," Mike said in a calm voice. "The car was stolen from the McDonalds about twenty-miles away. We arrested the thieves and questioned them." Mike opened a small notebook. "They took the car at 3:20 in the morning and had been joy riding ever since. Both were intoxicated and smoking marijuana. We've ran tests on the car and there's no evidence that Kristy was inside."

Brandi didn't know if this was good news or bad. "What does this mean?"

"Well, we aren't sure. It's possible that Seth had stolen another car to commit the crime rather than using his own."

"Seth doesn't know how to steal cars," Brandi pleaded.

Mike put up his hand. "I'm sure he doesn't. We've checked your bank records and credit cards. There hasn't been any activity of large withdrawals, which means your husband doesn't have a lot of money with him. At least, not any money from your accounts."

Maxine let out a frustrated sigh. "What are you saying? Seth didn't do this? You told me that you searched Brandi's cell phone and found a text message from Seth. He said, 'I'm sorry.' What was he sorry about?"

Brandi answered the question. "He was upset about our argument the night before."

An agent looked at his notes and said, "The text came through just after 10:00 in the morning. Where was he?"

"I don't know." Brandi felt the eyes of everyone in the room on her.

Mike flipped his notebook shut. "Here's my theory. Seth was up late in a heated discussion with Brandi. After their conversation, he walked downstairs while Brandi fell asleep. He saw someone walking into the Blackwell home. Seth went inside to investigate. He was subdued and abducted, along with Kristy."

Maxine stood up. "Then why didn't they take me?"

"Because, he, or they, wanted Kristy. Seth was a hitch in their plan, so in a panic he was taken as well. I believe it was two people. Kristy and Seth were loaded into one vehicle and driven away, while the second kidnapper stole the Honda and left it at the McDonalds. The kidnapper then allowed Seth to send a text message. Under the circumstances, what else was Seth going to say?"

An agent raised his hand while looking down at his notes. "Three questions. First, how was the Honda Civic stolen the first time? Do we have any clues on who was inside the vehicle? And is their any evidence that someone other than Seth, Maxine, and Kristy were inside this house?"

"All good questions," Mike said. "The keys were used both times for the theft of the Honda, which means Seth must have had the keys with him. Also, we have fingerprints in the Honda Civic from Seth and the two felons who stole the car from the McDonalds. No signs or traces that anyone else was inside the car. As for this house, other than friends and family of the Blackwell's, no one else had ever been in here." Mike paused, lost in thought. "Nonetheless, we don't have DNA or even a small clue that two kidnappers were in the house or in the Honda Civic."

The agent looked up. "So you aren't really sure what happened?"

"No. Like I said, it's my theory."

Brandi had mixed emotions. On one hand, maybe her husband didn't kidnap Kristy.

On the other hand, that would imply Seth had been taken. It meant he could be dead.

### 17

_Avenues_ was a five star restaurants at The Peninsula. Jon and Court ate Nantucket Bay Scallops. For desert, they split a Dark Chocolate Malt, topped with costal huckleberries.

Afterwards Jon insisted he treat Court to a Holistic Massage. How could she refuse?

This was all part of Jon's foreplay. Court had lots on her mind, but went along with the pampering because she needed his help. Besides, a good meal followed by a massage would clear her mind for the task at hand.

When they arrived at his room, Jon said, "Okay, spill it."

"Spill what?"

He loosened his tie, kicked off his shoes, and sat on the bed. "I saw the news report this afternoon before my book signing. Hanna Maynard was abducted from her home. To make things worse, your niece is missing as well."

Court sat next to him. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"You needed to relax, slow down your thought process, and think clearly." He gave her a grin. "Plus, I like to be stress-free when eating at a five star restaurant and getting a deep massage."

"Yeah, because you work so hard," Court joked.

Jon held her hand. "What do you need from me? Just ask."

"Well, the Maynard's hired me to find Hanna."

"That sounds logical."

She was surprised by his response. "You think that's a good idea?"

"Who else could they trust? Half the police force and FBI probably hate them because of that insane abortion law that Kendrick Maynard came up with. Nobody will help look for Hanna. And their own bodyguards let this happen. You're the only one left."

Court suddenly felt like Hanna's life was solely in her hands. "I want to ask you to profile the kidnapper."

He chuckled. "I'm an author. Not an actor on Criminal Minds."

"Then think like an author." She stood up, unzipped her suitcase, and pulled out the file that Tyler gave her. She plopped the file on the desk and sat down. "If the kidnapper was one of your characters, what's he thinking? Where is he? What will he do next?"

Jon scrunched his eyes. "You're comparing the real world to fiction novels. There's a big difference."

"Please, just do it."

He scratched his head. "Okay. First, what do we know about my character so far?" Jon asked rhetorically. "He kidnapped Hanna Maynard, which he knows will be covered by the national media."

"So he's looking for attention?"

Jon stood up and paced. "According to the news they found a hair that belongs to Nester Grath." Jon looked at Court. "By the way, I would never call any of my characters, _Nester_."

Court opened the manila folder and sifted through the papers. "They interviewed one of his old friends, Warren Browning."

"You see, that's another bad character name. It's too close to Warren Beatty. I would have called him-"

"Jon!" Court yelled. "Focus."

"Sorry." He continued to pace. "Warren says that Nester was obsessed with death and they nicknamed him Ghoul. True to his name, he goes on to kidnap and murder sixty-four people."

Court blew out a sigh. "So he's a dangerous killer that has experience with his trade."

Jon waved his finger. "I don't think so."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, how did we find out that Ghoul committed all those crimes?"

"Because that's what he said."

"Exactly," Jon said with excitement. "Are you telling me this guy kidnapped sixty-four people over seven years and this is the first time we're hearing about it?"

"But he listed their names."

"He could have gotten their names from the missing person reports."

Court shook her head. "Ghoul made all that up? Why would he do that?"

"He wants to alarm everyone and make people think he's some sadistic killer. In reality, Hanna is Ghoul's first time at something like this."

Court stood up. "Okay, I understand that. If Ghoul was your character, why did he take Hanna? Did he want revenge on Kendrick Maynard for opening all those abortion clinics?"

"Nah, that would be to obvious. The plot should have more of a twist." Jon walked over to the folder and looked through the contents. "Ghoul wants to hurt someone, but not Hanna's parents." Jon picked up the paper with the Fox News transcript. "According to this, Hanna made a phone call to her boyfriend. And I think it's worth mentioning, no way would I use a character named, _Gibor Figgins_."

Court snatched the transcript from him. "Ghoul wants to hurt Hanna's boyfriend for some reason. Why?"

Jon rubbed his scruffy chin. "In the letter to Fox News, Ghoul said, 'You have until June 1st to find me.' Then the police discover a hair that belongs to Nester Grath."

"Ghoul doesn't care if the police know his identity. Why is that? If you were writing this novel, what would you do?"

"I believe plot twists are crucial to any novel in order to keep the reader guessing and interested. Therefore in my book I would have Ghoul plant the hair of Nester Grath to throw the police off. Between that and lying about killing all those people, everything would be set up perfectly. The media and police, along with my readers, will think Nester, a.k.a. the Ghoul, is the villain."

Court began to breathe heavy. "That's genius. But where is Nester Grath?"

Jon shrugged his shoulders. "I would tie him up in the basement next to Hanna Maynard so the villain can pluck the hair from Nester whenever he wants, or even use his fingerprints to plant evidence."

Court ran both hands through her frizzy red hair. "Keep going. What would you write next?"

"Well, it would be good to keep the suspense up. June 1st would continue to approach. It's like a countdown and a race against time."

"Why June 1st though?"

"I definitely wouldn't make that a random date. It would have some sort of meaning."

"Keep telling the story. What next?"

Jon took a deep breath and let the air spill out slowly. "My character has everyone fooled, including the reader. The deadline is coming, so that intensifies the suspense. Now, I need a shocker. Something to pull it all together."

"Like what, Mr. Bestselling Author? How would you write the next chapter?"

Jon formed a grin. "My character wants to get back at Hanna's boyfriend, because something happened on June 1st."

"What year?"

"It would have to be last year. Remember, my character really didn't kidnap anyone or even kill anyone before." He lifted his finger. "However, last year on June 1st my villain was somehow hurt deeply by Gibor. For that reason, my character kidnaps Gibor's girlfriend and makes her say goodbye over the phone. That would be a terrific psychological punishment."

"What did Gibor do on June 1st that was terrible enough for your character to pull this stunt?"

Jon's face became hard. "Since I wrote the story, that means I have my readers thinking the kidnaper is some big, middle-aged guy named Ghoul. In order to have a shocker, the opposite would have to be true."

Court scrunched her eyebrows. "You are saying..."

Jon looked at her. "The kidnaper is a young girl who is delusional."

"Meaning?"

"She really is convinced that she kidnapped all those people and killed them. Part of her believes that she _is_ Ghoul. That would be something that nobody would expect."

Court shied her eyes away. "Your readers certainly would not see that coming."

### 18

The small farm was located just inside the Ohio border. Seth had planed everything: Purchasing the Dodge Charger, abduction of Kristy, leaving his Honda at the McDonald's, the get-a-way, and the acquisition of a foreclosed farm. Six years of hiding money from Brandi and gaining the courage to begin his destiny had come down to these last twelve hours.

He drove the Dodge Charger into the barn and cut off the engines.

Before reaching Ohio, Seth had released Kristy from her bounds to make several pit stops. Of course Seth couldn't leave her alone or take her to a public rest area. Instead, he drove to side roads off the highway and they used a field as a bathroom. He had planned for this and brought along two rolls of toilet paper.

Seth didn't take anything from his house. No clothes, extra shoes, and no personal items. He didn't touch the bank account, credit cards, or take their emergency cash that was hidden under the dresser.

His entire life had been left behind.

"Where are we?" Kristy asked.

Seth was relieved that she controlled her emotions during this long journey. Most girls her age would have freaked out at every opportunity. Perhaps it was because of their relationship. Seth had helped Kristy through many problems and spent countless hours with her. Almost as much time as his own daughter.

"We're in Ohio," he explained. Both got out of the car. "This farm was hit by a tornado last summer and the owner passed away four months ago in January. The bank put it through a short sale. No one bid on it, because the house needs work and the land is filled with rocks and weeds.

Krista leaned up against the car. "Do we have electricity?"

Seth gave her a tired grin. "Yes, and we have water. But not much else."

"I'm starving."

"There's a general store down the road."

Kristy nervously ran her fingers through her long, straggly blonde hair. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"I don't know."

She locked eyes with him. "Not once since taking me have you hurt me. Despite everything, you have to admit that this can't work. You will be caught sooner or later."

Seth opened the trunk and pulled out both suitcases along with a duffle bag. "I know."

"Are you..." She looked away.

He slammed the trunk, slung the duffle bag around his shoulder and lugged the two suitcases out of the barn. "Am I what?"

"Are you still considering whether to kill me or not?"

He stopped, let go of the suitcases, and faced her. "If I was going to do that, it would have happened. However, I didn't sacrifice my life for nothing. I need to find a way to stop you from becoming a murderer. That means you cannot try to escape. You cannot make things harder on us than they already are. You have to believe, just as I do, that you have an evil in the pit of your soul. That wickedness is fighting to be released."

She walked toward him. "I'll try."

Seth grabbed her arm. "You'll have to do more than try. I need you to believe that I did this for a reason."

Kristy's long face and clear eyes seemed to fade as if she became ethereal. "Honestly, I really think that _you_ believe in this. I just don't know how I'm going to be convinced. So for right now, all I can say is, I'll try."

Seth gazed at the old house. "Well I suppose that's good enough for the moment considering how brave you've been." He looked at her. "One more thing."

"What's that?"

He gave her a hug and whispered, "I'm sorry...And I beg your forgiveness."

### 19

After ordering a bottle of rum, Court and Jon sprawled out on the bed and passed the bottle back and forth.

Court had three big swigs before starting the conversation back up. "Now let's say you're writing a book about a sixteen-year-old girl who had been kidnapped from her bedroom in the middle of the night. Mom was left alone and the neighbor is a suspect."

Jon took a sip and passed the bottle back to her. "What do we know about the neighbor?"

"Very nice guy who became a father figure to the girl. He has a wife and daughter."

"How old is the daughter?"

Court had to think about that question. It had been a long time since she met the Stone family. She chugged down another sip. "His daughter would be nine or ten I think."

"And from what I saw on the news, Seth has a clean record. He's a family man and looked after Maxine and Kristy."

Court passed the bottle to him. "Yeah..." She lost her train of thought. "If you wrote a chapter in your book about Kristy being kidnapped, what would you do?"

Jon sucked down several gulps. "With Seth missing, he's the only logical person that could-"

Court smacked his shoulder. "I don't want you to be logical, or think of what has happened based on the news. Just tell me how you would write the story." She snatched the bottle away from him and took a drink.

"If it were me, Seth would undeniably be the kidnapper."

"Really? Why would he do that? Did he fall in love with Kristy? Become obsessed with her?"

"Nah. That sounds like something from a Nora Roberts book. I would write a back-story where Seth finds out that Kristy is going to be harmed. So he would do the unthinkable to protect her if he really thought it was the right thing to do."

"But why..." Court let out a long belch. "Why not call the police?"

Jon thought about that for a moment. "Because he was warned by a villain not to call the police. The villain would say something like this to Seth, 'I am going to rape and murder Kristy unless you take her away. If you call the police, then I'll kill her and murder your wife and daughter. You have twenty-four hours to make a decision.'"

"That sounds like a good story. No wonder you make so much money."

Jon snatched the bottle and drank. He wiped his mouth and said, "The evil villain character really wants to hurt Seth, not Kristy. The villain wants to see if he can make a good man commit a horrible crime. Seth is the perfect target, because the guy is so respectable."

"How did Seth get away without money or a car?"

"The villain provided Seth with everything he needed, including a place to stay." Jon corked the bottle. "I think you had enough to drink."

Court closed her eyes. "The villain got what he wanted. He convinced a good man to kidnap a young girl. Now what?"

"The villain would be satisfied. Unfortunately, there would be no more use for Seth and Kristy, so he would kill them both."

Court's eyes popped open. "Are you serious?"

Jon shrugged his shoulders. "It's what I would do." He licked the excess rum off his lips. "However, Seth discovers the scheme by the villain and escapes with Kristy. Now, they are on the run."

"Where would they be right now?"

"Somewhere remote. No phones or a way to contact police. Like in the mountains or a large forest."

"Great," Court replied. She closed her eyes again. "Tomorrow I'm going to visit my sister in Jacksonville and see if there's anything else I can do."

"What about Hanna? How are you going to help the Maynard's while trying to save your niece at the same time?"

"I don't know."

Jon put the bottle of rum on the nightstand and rolled to his side. He touched Court on her arm and ran his finger down to her wrist. "I was just thinking. Isn't it a coincidence that Hanna and Kristy were both taken the same night? And you're connected to both of them."

"I've consider that."

"Do you think it means anything?"

Court kept her eyes shut. She felt like her body floated above the bed. "I hope this doesn't have to do with me. But let's say it does, Mr. Author. What would you do next?"

"I'm not sure you really want to know."

"Yes I do."

"Well, let me think about it." Jon leaned closer. "Are we still having sex tonight?"

"Where is the next stop on your book tour?"

"Cleveland."

"I'll meet you there after I go to Jacksonville. We'll have sex then. I'm too tired right now."

"I totally understand. Looking forward to it."

With her eyes closed she could sense his disappointment. Nevertheless, under the circumstances Jon's kindness is overwhelming. It's how he became a bestselling author; always putting his readers and audience before himself. He's probably the only guy in the world that would help a woman in need while drinking and lying in bed and not expect anything in return.

Court began dosing off. "Tell me. What would be the next thing in your book? What would you do with me?"

"If I were writing this novel..." Jon blew out a sigh. "I would surprise the readers by killing your character. After we fall asleep, someone gets past my two bodyguards, breaks down the door, and shoots you twice in the chest. Blood is all over me as well. The villain smiles and then escapes. I'm left unharmed, but get writers block for many years later." Jon looked at Court. Her breathing was heavy, followed by a light snore. He smiled and closed his eyes. "Sweet dreams, Court."

### 20

When Seth opened the bedroom door he expected Kristy to be gone. Part of him didn't care if she escaped. And yet, he was relieved to see her lying in bed with her eyes open. "Good morning," was all Seth could muster up to say.

"Is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I really don't want to see you go to jail."

"I know."

"What's your plan? Stay here until I'm fifty?"

Seth let out a deep sigh. "One step at a time. How about breakfast? I'm starved."

"You cooking?"

"No food here." Seth thought about the chips and candy bards that they ate last night. It wasn't the best dinner in the world, but it worked. Shortly after Seth fell asleep and didn't wake until morning. In his dreams FBI stormed the farm, entered the house, and dragged him away in cuffs while his wife and daughter watched on the news. "There's a general store down the road. Do you want to come?"

Kristy leaned up on her arms. "If I come with you, then someone might recognize us. I'm sure my kidnapping story is all over the news. A big black man and a young white girl will be easy to spot." She flung her legs around and stood up. "On the other hand if you leave me behind I can escape."

"You either believe me with all your heart or you don't."

Kristy raised an eyebrow. "You're hoping that I believe in you and I stay here without complaining. That's not very realistic."

"No, probably not."

Kristy kneeled down on the floor next to her open suitcase. "How did you know all my sizes of clothes?"

"I've known you since you were born. You're like a daughter to me."

Kristy didn't look at him. Instead she gazed into her suitcase. "How would I become a serial killer? What kind of things do you see me doing?"

Seth decided not to hold back. "I see flames in my vision. Skin burnt away from people."

"And you see me doing those things?"

"Yes."

Kristy picked out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that had an American flag on the front. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't think you could help yourself. When I see your face, it looks different. Like you are..."

"Insane?" Kristy asked. She stood up with the clothes. "Are you saying that sometime this year my mind snap's and I decide to burn the flesh away from innocent people?" Kristy stepped forward. "Look at me! Do I seem like that kind of person?"

Seth didn't want to argue, but had to stand his ground. "Right now you do not. Soon enough you will change. Something happens that turns you into a monster."

A car door slammed outside.

Seth ran to the other bedroom that faced the front yard and looked out the window. There was a silver mini-van. Whoever drove it was already on the front porch.

The doorbell rang.

Seth sprinted out of the room. Kristy had quickly dressed and was in the hallway. "Who is it?"

"I don't know," Seth replied. He hurried down the stairs.

"Police?"

"I don't know," he said again.

The doorbell rang a second time, followed by an urgent knock.

Seth slowed his pace and took each step with caution. He glanced through the peephole.

"My God," he whispered to himself. He opened the door. "What are you doing here? How did you find us?"

Judith Stone, his older sister, gave him a hug. "I followed you."

### 21

When Court arrived in Jacksonville, driving a rented Ford Focus, she called one of her bodyguard friends. His name was Jeks, an old timer in the business. He had been shot twice, stabbed eight times, and suffered many broken bones, all to protect his client. These days things weren't much easier. His latest client was Sean Harris, a controversial radio host with over two million listeners.

"Hey Jeks, it's Court," she said with one hand on the cell and the other on the steering wheel.

"It's been about a year, Court," Jeks said with a kind tone. "You must need something or you wouldn't be calling."

She appreciated Jeks honesty and candor. "In this business the only time we do call is when we need a favor."

"Good point. What can I do for you?"

"I need a background check."

"You are more than capable of doing background checks. I'm not your secretary."

"I know. It's just that I'm pinched for time and traveling. I've had a double whammy."

"How so?"

"An ex-client of mine, Hanna Maynard was kidnapped."

"You were protecting her?"

"Yeah. But that's not the person I need help with at the moment. My niece was also kidnapped. Her name is-"

"Kristy Blackwell. I know all about it. Someone told me last night."

"News travels fast."

"I work for Sean Harris. His producers know more than the CIA."

"Which is why I'm calling you. The suspect connected with his disappearance is named Seth Stone. I need everything you can find on him and email the information to my phone."

"By when?"

Court glanced at her watch. "Half-hour?"

"I'll be expecting a bottle of good scotch appearing at my door in a few days. Also, are you still in touch with the author, Jon Truss?"

"I just saw him last night in Chicago."

"Great. Can you get me an autograph copy of his book?"

"I can do that." Court smiled. "You're going to drink a bottle of scotch and read _Bullet to Bone_?"

"Yeah. You got a problem with that?"

She laughed. "Not at all. Sounds like a perfect evening."

"Hey Court."

"Yeah?"

"How you holding up? Remember what I've always told you."

"Never screw a client."

"Sure, there's that. But the other thing."

"I cannot save the world, only one person at a time."

"Are you sticking to that advice or are you putting too much on those narrow shoulders of yours?"

"I've pretty much ignored that advice and trying to save the entire world from their problems."

Jeks laughed. "That a girl."

~

Court had to fight through the traffic and get verification from both her sister and the FBI to pull into the driveway. The street was filled with media, a crowd of onlookers, and protesters with racial hate signs. She ignored questions from a CBS reporter and jogged to the front door.

"Hey Court," Maxine said in a voice so low she was barely audible. She looked much older since the last time Court had seen her. Maxine's long brown hair had shades of gray. Her face drawn and worn. Her eyes had a maroon ring around them. "Come on in."

Court scanned the house. She noticed several FBI. All of them gave her a glance then went back to their work. Maxine led Court upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door.

"Any news?" Court asked as they both sat on the bed.

"You look healthy," Maxine said, ignoring the question. "How's the bodyguard business going?"

"It's not at the moment."

"You seeing anyone? Boyfriend?"

"Kind of."

Maxine folded her hands and leaned forward. "How did things end up so bad?"

Court rubbed her sisters back, wishing they had made up a long time ago and had been closer over the years. Once again Court felt guilty, like everything was her fault. "What's the latest?"

"FBI thinks that our neighbor, Seth Stone, was kidnapped as well. They believe he tried to stop the kidnapping and had been taken along with..." Maxine closed her eyes as tears seeped out. "I don't want to talk about it. I just want her back."

Court hugged her sister in a long embrace. "I'll find her," she whispered. Court wanted to take back the words that flew hastily out of her mouth. It's likely that Kristy was already dead.

Court's phone beeped three times which meant she had a text message. She stood up and slid the phone from her pocket. The message was from Jeks.

Seth Stone Info: Wife named Brandi. Daughter is ten, named Alyssa.

Seth has a Honda Civic registered in his name.

He owns his house and lived there for twenty-four years.

Seth inherited $3 million from his father.

His oldest brother is named Judas and older sister named Judith. Both inherited the same amount after their father's demise.

Judas lives in Cassadaga, Florida.

Judith lives in Venic City, Iowa.

Court saved the text message. "Did you know that the Stone's are worth millions?"

Maxine opened her eyes which sent a river of tears down her cheeks. "Excuse me?"

"Seth inherited three million after his father's death."

Maxine stood up. "I had no idea." She wiped her eyes and face with the back of her hand. "A long time ago Brandi mentioned that they received some money from Seth's father, but didn't say how much."

"Why would a guy worth millions kidnap your daughter?"

"You think the FBI's theory is correct that Seth had been taken as well?"

"It makes sense. Seth might be negotiating a deal with the kidnapper to free both him and Kristy."

"What should we do?"

"I have to believe the FBI already knows this. They're probably monitoring Seth's bank accounts."

"You think that Kristy will be okay?" Maxine asked with desperation in her voice.

Court didn't want to answer. If everything went wrong, Maxine would find a way to blame her. "I'm going next door and talk to Mrs. Stone."

### 22

Nester Grath was chained to the basement wall, opposite side of where Hanna Maynard was strapped to a bed.

"I'm living your life," Ghoul said to Nester. "I understand that once upon a time you were Ghoul, but that's my name now. Do you mind if I use it?"

Nester shook his head; eyes fluttering in every direction. "I never liked it anyway."

"So it is a win/win for both of us. That's great."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"No."

Nester closed his eyes for a moment. Possibly, he was thanking God. His lids slowly opened until they were wide as silver dollars. "What are you going to do with the girl?"

"Let her go."

Nester shook his head in agreement. "It's the right thing to do."

Ghoul strolled toward his toolbox and returned with a flathead screwdriver. "I'm going to give her this."

Nester's eyebrows crunch together. "I don't understand?"

"Well, Hanna Maynard will make a brave escape. But in order for her to getaway, she will have struggled with her kidnapper. The only weapon she could find was this screwdriver. She stabbed Nester Grath several times and ran out the door."

He began to quiver. "You said that you weren't going to kill me."

"I'm not."

Nester's chest began to rise and fall with dreaded fear. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"So the police and FBI will chase you, not me."

"Hanna will tell them the truth."

"No she won't."

"She'll have too."

Ghoul cocked his head. "Why?"

"The FBI will ask her about everything that happened. She'll say that you kidnapped the both of us and tried to pin it on me."

"Hanna will do no such thing. I'll give her a choice. She could die in this basement or kill you with the screwdriver. I'm not the most intelligent man in the world, but I think she'll kill you."

Nester tugged on the chains. "Let me go!"

"Not a chance."

"She won't kill me! Hanna is too young!"

Ghoul put his finger up to his lips. "Shhh...your voice is cracking through my skull. I know the future doesn't look so bright, but think about it this way. You were going to die at some point. Why are you so upset?"

Just as Nester was about to say something else, Ghoul took a rag and gagged him.

Ghoul then walked over to Hanna. "You hungry?"

She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"No problem. I'll get the tube."

Hanna squirmed. "Can I please just go to the bathroom on my own? I promise not to try anything."

Ghoul ignored the request. He opened a box he had near the bed and pulled out a tube, hand-pump, and KY Jelly. "This is for the best. When I'm done, I'll bring you some food."

"I'm begging you not to stick that in me again," Hanna cried. "It hurts."

"I know." Ghoul wanted her to suffer in ways that she couldn't imagine. When the time came, she would choose to stab Nester with a screwdriver and leave this place. Hanna would keep her promise and tell the FBI that Nester had kidnapped her. If Hanna ever broke down and told the truth, she could be sure that Ghoul would find her and this would start all over again.

Ghoul fastened one end of the tube to the pump. He pulled down her underwear to her thighs. He squeezed a dab of KY on his finger and rubbed it around the tube.

"Please don't," Hanna begged.

"You will do just fine," Ghoul said. He reached under the bed where he kept a green plastic bucket. "Now open your legs a bit and relax."

Hanna nudged her thighs apart as Ghoul inserted the tube inside her. He used the pump to drain the urine, then squirted the urine in the bucket. This process took about ten minutes, although for Hanna, it must have felt like hours.

After he finished, Ghoul slid her underwear back up. "Let me know when you need to have a bowel movement. I have plan for that as well, although it's a little messy."

### 23

As Court made it downstairs and toward the front door, one of the FBI agents stopped her. She was in a hurry, but held back her frustration. "Can I help you?"

"Hey Court," he said, holding out his hand. "It's Mike Willis. We met in Washington during the I.C.E. fundraiser."

Court felt her cheeks heat with the memory. They had been drunk, danced, and kissed like two high school kids in the parking lot. She never went home with him, because she had a feeling that he was married. "Gotta love shots of Tequila," Court said, glancing at the door. She wanted away from him. He was a nice guy, but this was too awkward. "I'm going next door to speak with Mrs. Stone."

He raised an eyebrow. "You working this case?"

"Of course not. I'm just trying to help find my niece."

Mike let out a huff. "Which means you're working the case." He handed her his business card. "I want to know everything you're doing."

Court slipped the card into her pocket. "Will do."

"And if you want to get together-"

She opened the door. "Okay, gotta go."

Court hurried next door. A few reporters took her picture. Most likely they didn't know who she was, but they would want to make sure to get her picture anyway just in case she turned out to be someone important.

After a minute of ringing the doorbell, Mrs. Stone finally answered. Similar to Maxine, she had maroon rings around her eyes. "You're Courtney Egan, Maxine's sister. Come on in."

"Good memory, Mrs. Stone." They shook hands. "I go by Court."

Mrs. Stone let out a weak smile. "And you can call me Brandi." She closed the door. "Maxine told me you're a security guard. That sounds great."

Court held back her frustration. "Maxine must have misunderstood what I do for a living. I am a _body_ guard."

Brandi pointed to the couch. "I'm sure it was just a simple mistake. Would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you. I'll just be a moment." Court sat down next to Brandi. "Your husband received benefit insurance after his father died, is that correct?"

Brandi's eyes pinched together. "Yes. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Can I ask how much your husband received?"

Brandi considered the question. "I'll tell you if it has to do with getting Seth and Kristy back safely."

"It does."

Brandi lowered her eyes as if ashamed her family received money because of someone else's death. "One million. We haven't touched it, but this mess could change that."

Court stood up. "One million? Nothing more?" She studied Brandi's reaction.

"I'm not the type of person that would lie."

"I agree," Court said, shaking her hand. "Thank you for the time."

She headed to the door and dialed a number on her cell phone. While talking, she left the house.

"Did you miss me?" Jon asked.

"Sure I did."

"What do you need?"

Court winced. She hated asking him favors when she did so little in return for him. "I need you to sign a copy of _Bullet to Bone_ made out to someone named, Jeks."

"I can do that."

"I'll text you the address. Can you ship it for me?"

"I have people to handle that."

Court opened her car door. "And I need you to also buy a bottle of good scotch and ship it with the book."

"How about I tie a ribbon on the bottle?"

"I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"I'm in Cleveland. Can you be here?"

"Not yet. I'll be flying back to Livonia, Michigan to get some info on the Hanna Maynard case."

"You can't solve both these at the same time. You do realize that, don't you?"

Court started the engine and drove through the traffic of protesters and media. "Yes, I'm aware of my limits."

"Well just in case you miss me in Cleveland I'll be going to-"

"I will see you tonight before your next tour stop. I promise."

"Very well. I'll make sure that care package is sent out today."

"Jek's is not a boyfriend. Just some guy doing a favor for me."

"Like I am?"

"No one is like you. Stop being so self-conscience. You're the bestselling author in the world. And you're the kindness, most sexy man I know."

"See you in Cleveland," he said with a chuckle, then hung up.

As Court sped back to the airport she thought about the conversation with Brandi. It was obvious that Seth hid away two million. But for what? Did he really plan to kidnap Kristy?

Court started to believe in Jon's theory. For whatever reason, Seth was forced to do this unthinkable act. Maybe he was alone in his decision and felt he couldn't tell a soul.

Perhaps Seth was with Kristy right now and on the run. But what was he planning to do next?

### 24

Seth hadn't seen his sister in years. She looked much older, stronger, and mature. Although he was younger, Judith had an innocent appearance, which made people think that she was the baby of the family.

Her brown hair was wrapped in hundreds of tight curls overflowing to either side of her head. Her eyes narrow and determined, body slim and fit.

"Have you been running marathons?" Seth asked. He was trying to think of something to say before asking why his sister followed them here.

"No time these days," Judith said, eyes wandering around the room. "Is she here?"

"Who?"

"Kristy Blackwell."

Seth felt his heart knock against his chest. "How do you know her? From the news?"

"No."

"Then how?"

Judith stared at him. Seth remembered her smile from a long time ago. Judith could make anyone into a good mood with just grin and a hug. Today however, she seemed different. Her gaze was lost in deep contemplation. Her light brown skin turned paler by the second.

"The vision," Judith finally responded.

He shook his head. "I don't understand. You had the same vision as me?"

"Yes."

This wasn't a good situation. Judith could be here for one of two reasons: To talk Seth out of what he's doing, or she's here to make sure Kristy's death came to fruition.

"I can't believe you followed us," he said, taking a step back. He pictured Kristy upstairs in her room and prayed to God she would stay there.

"I came for the same reason you took her."

"So you believe that Kristy was about to become a killer?" he asked, taking another step back.

"Yes."

"What did you see in your vision?"

"Burnt flesh. Eyes that exploded from their skulls."

Seth's knees buckled. The room seemed to fade away as if it were vaporous, stealing the air so he couldn't breathe. "What's your plan?" he asked with a voice that became weak and cracked with fear.

Judith cocked her head. "I had the same plan as you...kill her."

He put his hands up. "Listen, Judith. We need to think this over."

"She's still alive?"

"Yes, but-"

"Kristy Blackwell will become one of this nation's most feared serial killers and you haven't done anything about it?" Judith's voice rose to either panic or anger. "We were born to stop this and you're failing. Where is she?"

Seth glanced at the ceiling. He needed time to think. "Where's Judas?"

"Still living in Cassadaga, Florida."

"You kept in touch with him?"

"Yes. He's my brother just like you. Maybe you should try giving him a call sometime." Judith slid a gun from her pocket.

"Where did you get that?"

She looked down at it like a trophy. "This is a Magnum Pug. It has five shots; plenty to murder Kristy and save the people she plans on killing." Judith looked up, her eyes glossed with evil. "Judas gave it to me for my birthday."

Seth lunged forward and pushed his sister back. "Kristy!" he shouted with the vigor of desperation. "Run! Run!"

Judith had amazing strength and balance. She regained her composure and lifted the Magnum in his direction. "You coward!" she screamed. "I knew you couldn't go through with it!"

Just as the barrel of the gun came up to his chest Seth smacked it away with his large fist. The gun went off and the bullet singed past his arm, tearing the skin as it whizzed by. The pain was hot with blood drizzling down his bicep.

Seth hurried to the door as Judith gripped the gun. She fired two more shots. The bullets cracked into the doorframe. He ran outside, leaped off the porch, and headed toward the barn.

The Charger roared to life. Kristy was in the driver's seat, hit the gas and pulled up in front of him. Seth opened the passenger door and fell in. "Drive! Drive!"

Kristy pushed the gas peddle down to the floor. Three more shots echoed through the air. "Which way?" she screamed, tears draining from her eyes.

"Turn right," Seth moaned. He squeezed his burning arm. The blood was minimal, but the pain horrific. "Head back toward the highway and we will switch places."

Kristy wiped the tears from her face. She kept the gas peddle down, increasing the speed to 130 mph. "I heard everything your sister said."

Seth adjusted in his seat. "Pull over."

Kristy slammed on the breaks. The smoke from the tires rose into the air like fire.

After switching places, Seth hit the gas and sped down the country road. "Put your seatbelt on," he ordered.

Kristy snapped the belt into place and stared at him. "Are you shot?"

"No, just a scratch. It looks worse than it really is."

She blew out a fearful groan. "I was listening to everything from the top of the stairs."

"How did you get out?"

"I grabbed the keys from your duffle bag and crawled out to the roof, jumped down, then went into the barn."

"Please tell me that you took the duffle bag with you."

"I did." Kristy pointed to the backseat. "It's there."

Seth brushed the sweat from his brow. "Thank God," he whispered.

"I saw what's inside. Cash. Lot's of it."

"It's what I need to keep you safe."

"I don't feel very safe," Kristy said, tears flooding her eyes. "You need to take me back."

"Impossible."

"Why?"

"If I left you at home, Judith would come after you again. She won't stop until you're dead." Seth took in a deep breath. His arm throbbed so badly the pain blurred his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, attempting to keep his focus. Seth had not eaten since dinner yesterday and was becoming dangerously weak. "My brother may be after you as well."

"So let the police protect me."

"I can't risk your life, or the lives of others."

"You still think I'm going to be a serial killer?"

"Judith had the same vision and we haven't spoken in years. I'm sure of it now. This is the right thing to do."

Kristy kicked the floorboard as a river of tears ran down her face. "Where are we going?"

Seth had planned for their next destination just in case something went wrong. He just didn't imagine things would go wrong this fast. "I'm going to take you to a place called, Hell."

### 25

It was 5:30 p.m. when Court arrived at the home of Gibor Figgins; the boyfriend of Hanna Maynard. Court had met him on many occasions when he came over to the Maynard's for dinner, or when he and Hanna went out on a date.

He was shorter than Hanna, which made them an odd-looking couple. He had sandy-blond hair waved to the side as if he had been time warped from the 70's. In Court's humble opinion, he was just a skinny little punk born with money. His parents ran an advertising company. Their biggest client was Home Remedies, which brought in billions of dollars in sales each year using herbal and natural products to cure common things like colds, bruises, rashes, and sore throats.

On Gibor's sixteenth birthday his parents gave him a 1993 Lamborghini Diablo VT, which they bought off a seventy-year-old man that never drove it. After Court had been let inside the gate, she saw the Lamborghini parked in the open garage. Next to it was an Infiniti QX 56 SUV and a BMW 3-Series sedan.

She rang the doorbell, disappointed when Gibor's mom answered. His mother was for a lack of a better word...a bitch. She had always treated Court like a servant or a glorified chauffeur.

"Hello Mrs. Figgins." Court was exhausted from her trip and just wanted a hot shower and cold beer. Speaking to Gibor's mother was right up there on her list of ten worst situations to be in, like falling down a cliff into a mound of jagged rocks.

"What are you doing here? I thought you quit the Maynard's and left Hanna to be kidnapped by some freak."

Court squeezed her lips together. She could pull out her Taser and zap Mrs. Figgins in her smug mouth, but decided against it. Then again, Court could come back later with her Glock and shoot Mrs. Figgin's in the skull, splattering her brains all over her thousand-dollar dress while messing up her blonde beehive style hair dew. "I'm here to speak with Gibor."

"Why?"

"Pricilla hired me to help find Hanna."

"Doesn't Pricilla make you call her Mrs. Maynard? Or are you showing a lack of respect because she's not here."

"Can I speak to your son?" Court wasn't going to be drawn into an argument, which was Mrs. Figgins specialty. "I'll just need ten minutes."

"No."

Court gave Mrs. Figgins a confident grin. "Why don't you call Pricilla and tell her that you won't let me do my job. Explain why the investigation of her daughter's disappearance is being held up by your attitude."

Mrs. Figgins' eyes narrowed and her painted eyebrows cracked with anger. "He's in the rec room. You have ten minutes."

Court pushed her way past the annoying bitch and marched through the large house that was decorated like a museum with expensive paintings, sculptures, and furniture that no one was permitted to sit on. Court had been here a few times to pick up Gibor and knew her way around. He was always in his bedroom or the rec room. Everywhere else was off-limits to him and his friends.

Gibor was playing Guitar Hero when she walked in and slammed the door. The surprise entrance caused him to drop the plastic guitar. "What the hell do you want?"

Court pointed to the game. "Shut that off and come here."

He didn't argue. Gibor was used to being ordered by his mother. He placed the guitar down, then shut off the Wii and flat screen television. "Did you find Hanna yet?"

"No dip shit. That's why I'm here."

To her surprise Gibor's face crumbled and his eyes glossed with tears. "I wish you would have been there for Hanna. She would be safe right now."

Court actually felt sorry for him and even a little guilty that she wasn't Hanna's bodyguard. He was right...this wouldn't have happened if she had been guarding Hanna that night. Nevertheless, what's done is done.

"Keep it together," Court said, grabbing his shoulders. She thought about Jon's theory and decided to test it. "Last year did you date anyone?"

Gibor shrugged her off and stepped back. "What?"

"You've been dating Hanna for about seven months-"

"Eight months and eleven days."

"Whatever. Before her, who did you date?"

"I don't see what this has to do with anything?"

Court stepped forward, now right in his face. "Listen. I am tired. Cranky. Hungry. And I have a Taser strapped to my leg. If you don't answer my questions in a timely manner I'm going to zap your scrawny ass."

Gibor's eyes began to twitch. "I dated a few girls."

"What about June 1st?"

He lowered his head. "I don't know. That was a year ago."

"Did you piss anyone off? Make some girl angry at you?"

Gibor's eyes widened. "There was this one girl; I guess it was about a year ago. We met on Facebook. We flirted online..." His cheeks turned a deep red. "I never met her though. She lived down south."

"Where?"

"Jacksonville I think."

Court's heart smacked against her chest. "What was her name?"

"Kristy...I think her last name was Blacksmith or something like that."

"Kristy Blackwell?"

"Yeah. After she got pissed at me for not talking to her more, I blocked her from my friends list."

"When was that?"

"Last year."

"June?"

"I don't remember. Maybe."

Court left the room and marched past Mrs. Figgins who had been listening at the door. After Court arrived back at her car, she pulled out Mike Willis's business card and called him.

"Mike Willis," he said with a confident tone.

"This is Court."

"Hey, glad you called. Are you still in-"

"I'm in Michigan, helping with the Hanna Maynard case. Last year, Gibor Figgins had contact with Kristy."

"Who the hell is Gibor Figgins?"

"He's Hanna Maynard's boyfriend. However before that, Gibor had an online relationship with Kristy on Facebook. Have you checked-"

"We went over the last two years of her emails, Facebook account, My Space, and so forth. Nothing of interest jumped out at us."

"She apparently got upset with Gibor and he had to block her from being able to send messages. Go back a year ago just before June and see what was going on in her Facebook page."

"Hold on."

Court turned left and headed to the airport with the cell phone against her ear. Jon may have been right. A young girl could have taken Hanna. It would not make sense that Kristy did this, although she may have arranged the kidnapping.

"Court," Mike said. "Nothing on Kristy, but there are 467 Kristy Blackwell's who had a Facebook account at that same time."

"How is that possible?"

"Lot's of people are named Kristy Blackwell around the world."

"Can you go through each profile?"

"I'll have my team keep digging, but honestly, I'm not ready to put a lot of investigating hours into this." He paused. Court could hear him breathing heavy through the phone. "Unless you think Kristy and Hanna's cases are linked?"

"I'm not sure. Let me know if you find anything and I'll do the same for you."

"Take care," Mike said, hanging up.

Someone obviously wanted Gibor to think that he was talking to Kristy Blackwell, but why?

Court thought that maybe none of this mattered. Kristy Blackwell could be nothing more than just a popular name.

That did not excuse the fact that Kristy Blackwell was also Court's niece. It was more than just a name. She was a young girl that Court loved. A family member.

A missing child.

### 26

The bucket of ice water splashed on Hanna's face and jerked her awake. The ice cubes tumbled on her forehead, eyes, and cheeks. Before she could react, Ghoul smacked her face with the back of his hand. Her skin turned instantly pink, her eyes wide with fear.

Another smack. This time on the other side of her face.

Hanna screamed, "What are you doing!"

Ghoul smiled and walked away. He stared at Nester who was shivering in the far corner of the basement. Ghoul had given him the same treatment just a few minutes ago. Both his victims were awake now.

More importantly, their muscles gripped with terror. Their minds wandering to dark places of horror. This was the third day of being held captive in the basement. Nester had not been permitted to move from this spot. He was laying in his own urine and feces, chained to a pole, weak from hunger.

Nester moved his head forward and snapped his mouth around a melting ice cube. That would be his only chance for dinner or something to drink.

As for Hanna, she had been fed two meals a day, along with plenty of water. Ghoul would even reward her with a Mountain Dew or Pepsi with good behavior. In the past, Hanna was of course used to getting whatever she wanted. After three days of being strapped to a bed and abused mentally, she would be ready to do just about anything to be freed.

Killing would come easy for her. After all, her father and mother promoted the future murder of babies. Hanna was raised in a household that preached the killing of humans in order to relieve a burden.

Hanna would kill to get out of this situation. He was sure of it.

Ghoul jogged upstairs and did his quick routine around the house. The home was owned by Yongsoo Chung and was away on business in Japan. According to the calendar on the kitchen wall, Yong will return tomorrow in the late afternoon.

By then, Ghoul would be long gone.

The police finding Hanna by June 1st was just ruse. The supposed deadline gave this story more of a media flare. It caught the attention of people all around the world. This kidnapping was all anyone could talk about; increasing Ghoul's popularity by the day. Anyone who investigated this case would consider the deadline as part of the kidnapper's master plan.

Everything was bullshit and for Ghoul's entertainment only.

He brought the television from the bedroom and hooked it up in the living room, replacing the television that he kicked his foot through the screen. He turned it on and used the remote to find Fox News. "Time to find out what they're talking about now," Ghoul said to himself, pleased that his story remained the media's focus.

" _Shari Reiber has been found in a Seattle, Washington Starbucks,_ " the anchor said. That name sounded familiar to Ghoul. " _FBI questioned Shari for several hours and it was determined that she was never missing, but rather left her home two years ago, because of a dispute with her parents. Shari, now eighteen-years-old, had never been kidnapped. In fact, she had been living with her secret boyfriend, Bryn Minkus, the entire time._

" _This also means that the so-called list sent to us by Nester Grath, who goes by the name, Ghoul, is bogus. Nester had claimed to have kidnapped and murdered sixty-four people over the last seven_ _years. Nester is also the lead suspect in the Hanna Maynard kidnapping. In the letter, he claimed that the police had better find him by June 1_ st _. We here at Fox News are wondering two things. Was that an empty threat? Also, is there a possibility that Nester is not even responsible for Hanna Maynard's kidnapping. Let's go to our panel of guests to discuss this-_ "

Ghoul clicked the TV off. The focus had shifted to Nester. The authentic Ghoul stood right here, disappointed that the media wouldn't take him seriously. It's unfortunate that no one figured out that Nester was just a pawn. The real Ghoul had yet to be discovered. He's just an evil spirit that preyed on the death of other souls. No one would ever discover his identity, but they should at least be somewhat concerned.

"Eventually they will be terrified of me," Ghoul whispered. People around the world should tremble when they lay down in their beds at night, wondering if he would take them next. Instead, he was a joke. A punch line.

Ghoul decided that nothing could be done about it right now. He had to continue with his plans. Hanna Maynard was about to escape while killing Nester in the process. This brought a smile to Ghoul's face.

After all, he was morbidly obsessed with death.

### 27

Court's plane landed at Cleveland Hopkins Airport. Jon was staying at the Crowne Plaza hotel within walking distance. It was nine o'clock at night and he's probably relaxing in his room.

For some reason, Court wasn't ready to see him yet. She was hungry, tired, and fearful that Hanna and Kristy are now dead.

Buccis Lounge inside the Crowne Plaza was packed with guests. The noise level deafening, but it didn't bother Court. She wanted to be distracted from reality, at least for the moment.

With her suitcase under the table Court ordered a steak, onion rings, and a Budweiser. She thought about Jon and how easy it was for him to divert from the validity of daily life. His entire thought process was based on fictitious characters and events. He could put himself anywhere in the world. Court wondered what it would be like to be inside his head for just a day. How does he view society? Culture? People? Traditions? A building? Everyday objects?

By the time she had finished eating, at least three men and one woman had hit on her. The crowd was drunk and horny.

Court paid her tab, gave the overworked waitress a sizeable tip, then hauled her suitcase out of the lounge. For some reason the luggage felt like it gained significant weight during her meal. As she walked to the hotel's front desk, Court realized that her life was filled with extra baggage, no matter how light she traveled.

"Hello, I need the room number for Jon Truss," Court said as she dropped the suitcase on the marble floor.

The female employee scrunched her eyebrows together. "Yeah right," she said with heavy sarcasm. "I'm just going to give you the room number to Jon Truss and let you walk up there and knock on his door. Maybe I'll give you the keycard as well, so you can go inside."

"I'm a friend."

"Sorry, not falling for it."

Court didn't want to wake Jon if he was sleeping. He went to bed early and slept in late as possible. Getting plenty of rest was a perquisite of being a bestselling author. "Can you send one of his bodyguards down?"

"I'll try. But the bodyguards told the front desk that Jon was not to be disturbed by anyone."

"I understand. I'll take the blame."

"Wait over there," she said, pointing to a circle of tall chairs.

After a few minutes Rodney appeared from the elevator. He held the door open and waved her over. Court stood up, hauled her suitcase, and glanced at the hotel employee at the front desk whose cheeks had turned a deep red. Court and Rodney went inside the elevator. "Thanks," she said, patting him on the back.

He surprised her with a smack on the ass. "You given Jon a booty call?"

She punched him in the gut. "None of your business."

Rodney laughed off the punch, but his face twisted in pain. "Damn girl, I was just kidding."

"Where is your jackass partner?"

"Gary and I are staying in the room next to Jon's."

"Were you sleeping?"

"Nah. I was watching Sports Center. Gary is out cold."

The elevator door opened. She walked next to Rodney down the hallway. "How did Jon's book signing go today?"

"Over five hundred people," Rodney said. He stopped at room 603 and slid the card in. "Jon's sleeping, but he said if you showed up, I should let you in."

"Where are you guys staying?"

Rodney pointed to the next door. "Room 605."

"Adjoining rooms?"

Rodney chuckled. "No sweetheart. You will have him all to yourself."

Court reached out and rubbed his stomach. "Sorry for the punch."

"Didn't hurt."

She smiled. "Yeah right."

Court went inside the dark room and closed the door. She didn't secure the extra latch, because that was against the bodyguard rules. Gary and Rodney knew her, but that didn't matter. They would need access at all times.

Jon was sprawled out on the bed. A copy of Sandra Brown's, _Smoke Screen_ was on the table next to him, along with the bible and a bottle of Ambien. This was his routine every night: read bible, read a fiction book, and take his sleeping pill. It was hard for Jon to shut down his brain. Court wondered if he ever stopped imagining his next story, even while he slept.

She slid off her clothes and showered. The hot water was soothing. So much that she actually began to doze.

After drying off, Court slid in the bed and under the blanket. Her naked body melded next to him.

"That you, Court?" he mumbled, eyes still closed.

"No, it's Rodney."

"Oh. Hey Rodney. I never knew what nice tits you had."

Court smiled. "Shut up and go back to sleep."

"I'm awake now. Want to...have sex..." Jon began snoring.

She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes, arms around him. She could probably take advantage of him right now, but Jon wouldn't remember anything. Memory loss was one of the side effects of a sleeping pill. So she did the next best thing.

Court went to sleep.

### 28

Hanna agreed to the conditions of her release. She was to kill Nester Grath and run from the house. When questioned, she would tell everyone _the story_.

Ghoul undid her bounds and handed her the large screwdriver. She stood, body wobbling like a newborn calf. "He's too big," Hanna said, her voice dry and weak. "I don't have the strength."

"Fine," Ghoul responded. "Let's get you back on the bed and-"

"No!" she screamed. "I'll do it."

Ghoul led her across the basement. "Let me ask you something. Would you ever suspect anyone like me to be a kidnapper?"

Hanna glanced up at him. "Actually, no I wouldn't."

He smiled. "That's good."

Nester saw them coming and squirmed into a ball. He had a rancid smell and looked like a POW who lost fifty pounds.

Hanna covered her mouth for a moment. She stood over Nester and gripped the screwdriver with both hands. Ghoul watched, anticipating the moment. _She's really going to do it_ , he thought. Hanna's eyes were glazed with both horror and desperation. She lifted the screwdriver and drove it down.

Nester squealed as the tip pushed into his neck, but did not break the skin.

Ghoul curled his lips. "Well, that didn't work."

Hanna grabbed Nester by his crusted hair and used her other hand to thrust the screwdriver into his eye. The noise from Nester was like a small animal being eaten alive. A spurt of blood ruptured from the eyeball and splattered on her clothes and face.

"Hold on a second," Ghoul said. He was almost laughing from the pleasure of the horrific scene. Ghoul unlocked the chains and removed them from Nester. "Continue," he said to Hanna.

She forced the screwdriver into his neck. This time, the skin tore open and formed a one-inch gap. After another squirt of blood, Hanna twisted the screwdriver while shoving it in.

"That's enough," Ghoul said.

Hanna was covered with globs of thick blood. She looked down at Nester. Only the top of the handle from the screwdriver was exposed. "I don't think he's dead," Hanna said in a voice without emotion. She had become someone else. Not an eighteen-year-old rich kid. She was a killer, lacking feelings or regret.

Ghoul stepped next to her. "Do you remember the story to tell the cops and your family?"

"I do," Hanna said, glancing at the stairwell. "Can I go?"

Ghoul stood in front of her. The droplets of blood drizzled down her face and neck. "If needed, I'll hunt you down and take you again. You know that, right?"

She shook her head. "I'll do everything like you asked."

He pointed to the stairs. "Then you may go."

Hanna paused, as if it the certainty of her being set free seemed too unrealistic. She made one cautious step, then another. As she created distance between her and Ghoul, she gained the confidence to run up the stairs.

Hanna made it outside into the fresh air. She looked in every direction and down both sides of the street, recognizing the area. Her house was only one block away. All this time she had been a five-minute walk from her parents.

She jogged, not looking back, feeling the eyes of Ghoul on her. Just up ahead were media, paparazzi, and a few police that guarded the entrance to her driveway.

The smell of copper, mixed with the retched odor of Nester's blood crept into her sinuses. The blood began to dry on her skin and clothes, becoming attached to her like a disease. All she could envision was Nester's eye popping open like an egg.

Just one house away and no one noticed her. She went from a jog, to a slow lumber toward the front gate.

A reporter finally saw her coming, followed by another. Two police officers acted quickly and escorted Hanna through the gate.

"What happened?" one of them asked. "Where did you come from?"

With cameras flashing and reporters shouting questions, Hanna couldn't speak. She only thought about the tale she was about to spin. She glanced back to the crowd, wondering if Ghoul was there.

He could be using the media as his own private surveillance. Ghoul would always find a way to watch her every move. Hanna needed to stick with the plan, or she could end up like the man she just killed.

### 29

" _We have breaking news on the Hanna Maynard case,_ " the reporter said.

Court still had her eyes closed, lying under the sheet in bed. She didn't want to move, but the television woke her up. In addition there was a wonderful smell of coffee and breakfast in the hotel room.

Jon gave her a light shove. "Court. You need to see this." He turned the volume up.

Court popped her eyes open, slid out of bed, and wrapped the sheet around her naked body. Her brain snapped completely awake when she saw Hanna being escorted through the front gate of her home, covered in blood. "Jesus...is she okay?"

"Don't know," Jon responded. He remained standing, eyes locked on the television.

The anchor spoke while the camera followed Hanna up the driveway. " _Hanna Maynard had appeared from nowhere, covered in blood, and clearly shaken from her ordeal. Moments after she stumbled through the crowd, Hanna was escorted to her home by police officers. That is all we know at this time._ "

Court reached out, grabbed her cell phone, and called Pricilla. After six rings it went to voicemail. "Pricilla, it's Court. Call me back so I know what's going on." She clicked the _End_ button and dropped the phone back on the table. "I can't believe this." Her eyes met with Jon. "What's your problem?"

He pointed to her naked body. "The sheet fell off."

Court glanced at the sheet on the floor, smiled, then walked with confidence to her suitcase and bent over. "Whatever you ordered for breakfast smells good. I need to eat and head back to Michigan."

Jon hit mute on the television. "I know that you're probably not in the mood, but..."

Court stayed bent over. She wanted him for many reasons. Her mind was clogged and she needed to clear it up. The world was full of hate, blood, and evil. She needed to forget about those things, even for a moment. Sex was the best cure for just about every problem.

She had wanted Jon for a long time, missing the passion they shared together. If she waited for the perfect moment it would never happen. Court felt vulnerable, which led her to be accommodating.

Court didn't move. "I'm waiting."

She heard Jon undressing behind her. He was a man of many words, but knew when to keep his mouth shut. The moment of her giving into desire could pass quickly, so time was of the essence.

He touched both cheeks on her ass with the tips of his fingers, sliding them down past the tight opening, then to the moist skin.

Court reached out and pressed her palms against the wall for support. She felt Jon enter her from behind, with slow, seductive precision. His cock swelled even more inside her as he glided back and forth. Court had an instant orgasm. Seconds later, her vagina fluttered with a gush of warm fluid.

Jon grabbed her shoulder with one hand, then her red hair with the other. He became more aggressive, pumping with hard, forceful thrusts.

Court swung her arm back and smacked his thigh. "Harder," she groaned.

She pushed the wall for more leverage. Jon grabbed her by the hips and propelled himself in and out of her as sweat drizzled down her back. She squeezed her eyes closed and dug her fingers into the wall. His forceful movements continued at a quick pace with relentless thrusts. Court felt his cock pulsate, followed by a gusher of fluids. He continued for another five minutes until the swelling went completely down.

Both of them fell to the bed, their chests rising and falling as if they had just run a 5k race. Sweat glistened their naked bodies while they took in deep breaths to regain their strength.

Court reached over and slapped Jon on his thigh again. "Now, I'm really hungry."

"Let's eat," he said, pushing himself up.

Both dressed in robes and sat at the table. Jon had ordered eggs, bacon, sausage, and fruit. Court had gotten Jon on this protein diet years ago. She was pleased that he stuck to it.

"I hope Hanna is okay," Jon said with a full mouth of bacon.

"She didn't look good, but at least she's home."

"I'll be in Pittsburgh tomorrow, then Philly the day after that. Then I'll be in New York for a week doing signing's, promotions, and bogged with meetings. Next Saturday my publisher is having a party for me to end the tour on a high note." He plopped a piece of pineapple in his mouth. "I could use a date."

Court gave him a grin. "How many phone numbers do you get from women each day?"

"A lot."

She continued eating. "Well, you're attractive, successful, and a nice guy."

He pointed his fork at her. "Don't forget I'm great in the sack."

"Yeah, but only I know that. Your obsessed female readers don't realize that you're fantastic in bed."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "Sure they do."

"How?"

"They read the sex scenes in my books." He smiled. "Great experience provides entertaining fiction."

"Touché," Court said. She glanced at the television. Police were surrounding a house that looked to be in the same neighborhood of the Maynard's. Court was about to tell Jon to turn the volume up, but a flash on the screen temporarily blinded her. She gazed at the television, wondering what just happened.

As the smoke cleared, Court saw police, S.W.A.T., and FBI stumbling away from the house.

There was an explosion.

### 30

The crime scene unit took samples of the blood on Hanna's body. She explained to the FBI what house she escaped from. She answered a few more questions until her mother complained that the FBI was harassing her daughter. In addition, Pricilla refused to let them take Hanna away to the hospital or conduct a rape test. "My daughter is staying home with us. We don't trust anyone else with her safety."

Hanna could almost hear the FBI laughing inside. It was because of her parent's lack of safety that this happened in the first place.

She was permitted to shower and change clothes. Hanna was thankful for this time alone; to get a grip on her nerves and go over in her head the story she was supposed to deliver.

In the living room with her father on one side and her mother on the other side, both holding her hand, she explained how Nester kidnapped her. It was hard lying to the FBI. Hanna was exhausted, eyes rimmed with tears. Her emotions and shaky voice would be understandable considering what she had just gone through. Hanna told a story that was completely false. It was much easier than she thought.

A female FBI agent named Jennifer stayed behind while her team hurried to the house where Hanna had been held captive. Jennifer showed Hanna a glossy photo of Nester Grath. "Is this the man that kidnapped you?"

Hanna's whole body began to shake. Not because she was lying to the FBI. Instead, it was because of the horrible images she had of murdering Nester in the basement. "Yes," she said, then pushed the photo away.

Jennifer spoke in a soft, calm voice. "And you said earlier that he did not sexually assault you?"

That was the first question her mother asked. Not, 'Are you okay?' Or 'Thank God you're safe.' Instead, her mother wanted to know if Hanna had been raped. "No. I was tied to a bed. He wouldn't let me up, not even to go to the bathroom."

Pricilla gasped while Kendrick squeezed his daughter's hand.

Jennifer asked, "How did you escape?"

Hanna pulled in a deep breath. It was important that the FBI and her parents believe this story. If not, Hanna knew that Ghoul would seek his revenge on her and it would be a thousand times worse than any death she could imagine. "Nester got a phone call from someone. The person on the phone told Nester to let me walk around to get the blood circulation flowing, or else I could die."

"Then what happened?"

Hanna's lips quivered. "I saw a big screwdriver on the floor. It was the only weapon around. So I picked it up and..." A river of thick tears fell from Hanna's eyes. "I stabbed him in the neck, then his eye, and then his neck again."

Pricilla stood up. "Oh my God!"

Kendrick pointed to the couch. "Sit down. Let her talk."

Pricilla glared at him for a moment, then did what she was told.

Jennifer said, "Go on. What happened next?"

"I ran," Hanna explained. "Up the stairs, outside, and back here."

"Was Nester still alive when you escaped?"

"I don't know."

Jennifer made a few notes on a legal pad. "You said that Nester received a phone call. Did he say who it was?"

"Yes. Some girl."

"A girl?"

"Nester told me that someday he will die, but the Ghoul from his soul will continue to murder and burn the skin of others." Hanna drew in a long, ragged breath. She wiped the tears from her face and eyes. "He told me a young girl would be in control of Ghoul and he would listen to her every command."

Jennifer scribbled a few more notes. "Did Nester tell you the name of this girl?"

Hanna closed her eyes, remembering what Ghoul instructed her to say. "Her name is Kristy Blackwell."

### 31

Just as Court purchased her first-class ticket, her cell phone rang. She was relieved to see the caller ID said, _Pricilla_.

"Is Hanna okay?" Court asked.

"Considering what she went through, she'll be all right," Pricilla said with a sharp tone. "Did you see the news?"

"Yes. I saw the FBI enter the house and watched it explode. Who did the home belong too?"

"It was a neighbor down the street. The man who owned the home was away on business. That's where the guy took Hanna...." Pricilla sobbed through the phone. "It's over. That's what's important."

"I'll be there in a few hours. Will I be able to speak with Hanna?"

"Of course."

~

When Court arrived, Tyler answered the front door and shook her hand. "Hey Court," he said with a tired grin. "For someone who doesn't work here you're sure around a lot."

"I see that you still have a job."

"For now." He moved to the side and let her in. "We haven't found someone to replace Riana as Hanna's bodyguard. If you're interested-"

Court put her hand up. "Stop. Don't ask." She blew out a sigh. "So where's Hanna?"

Tyler pointed to the rear of the house. "Sitting outside by the pool."

"Anybody with her?"

"My team is watching."

Court lowered her head. "I didn't mean that. Is her mother or father sitting with her? I want to speak with Hanna alone."

"Pricilla guzzled down six vodka tonics and passed out in her bedroom. Kendrick is in his office."

Court patted Tyler on his shoulder. "Thanks."

Hanna was on lounge chair, wearing pink designer sweatpants and matching sweatshirt. She didn't have any visible bruises or cuts, which meant the blood Court saw on the news was not Hanna's.

Court sat down sideways on the lounge chair next to her. "Glad to see you home."

"Sure...whatever."

"You mad at me?"

"No. I just don't want to talk. I'm sick of telling everyone what happened."

"Can you give me five minutes and I'll leave you alone?"

Hanna glared at her. "The clock is ticking."

"Why did Nester let you go?"

"He didn't. I had to stab him with a screwdriver to escape."

"You're positive that the guy who kidnapped you was Nester Grath?"

"The FBI showed me a picture of him," Hanna said. She brushed her hair back then placed both hands on her thighs and squeezed. Then, the right side of her mouth scrunched together. "I may never be able to forget his face.

Court knew that Hanna was lying. It was obvious. "No one else was involved?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Kristy Blackwell. She was the one telling Nester what to do. At least, that's what he claimed."

"I mean, was anyone else in that house with you?"

Hanna's eyes lowered. "It was just him."

"Look at me," Court said with a stern tone. She couldn't believe that the FBI didn't pick up on Hanna's fake story. Obviously someone threatened her to tell this lie. Court thought about Jon's theory, how someone kidnapped both Hanna and Nester. Jon could have been right. "Who was the real person that kidnapped you?"

Hanna shot out of her chair. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Court pushed herself up. "I want to help catch the person who did this to you."

Hanna marched toward the house. "Last I checked, you quit." Her voice rose. "I want you to leave!"

"Not until you tell me the truth. Who took you?"

"Fuck off!" Hanna screamed. "Tyler! Come here!"

He appeared from the rear door. "What is it?"

"I want Court out of here! And if you can't do your job, I'll make sure my father finds someone who can." Hanna went into the house and said just loud enough for them to hear, "I can't believe he didn't fire you already."

Tyler blew out sigh. "Well, how's the investigation going?" he asked sarcastically.

"Nester wasn't the one who kidnapped her," Court pleaded. "Someone made it look like it was Nester and threatened Hanna to lie."

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Based on what?"

Court couldn't say, 'Jon Truss, the bestselling _fiction_ author had that theory and he seemed to be right.' That wouldn't go over well. "I can distinguish between someone who is speaking the truth and someone who's making up a story."

"The FBI would have noticed."

"Not necessarily. Hanna was upset when questioned. It would be hard to tell, because her facial expressions and tone of voice would have been distorted. Now that she's calmed down, you can see that Hanna is lying."

Tyler pointed to the side gate. "Let me walk you to your car before Hanna comes back out here and has a conniption."

Court walked with him, frustrated that he wasn't listening. "If the real kidnapper is out there, he could be back. Also, that would explain why the house exploded. He was getting rid of the evidence."

"The Maynard's want to move on and put this all behind them," Tyler said as they walked to the driveway. "Honestly, I'm on thin ice as it is. They won't listen to me."

"When Pricilla recovers from her drunken coma, can you arrange some time for me to speak with her?"

"That probably wouldn't work. I think Kendrick would be your better option. He might listen."

"Let me talk to him."

"Not here." As they reached Court's rented Ford Escort, Tyler glanced back at the house. "Kendrick is opening up another facility in New York next week. Pricilla and Hanna won't be coming along, because it will be too dangerous." He locked eyes with her. "I need some extra people on the detail. You interested?"

Court didn't want to be suckered back into this job. "I don't think so."

"It will give you some alone time with Kendrick. You can explain your theory. Also, it pays $10,000 for the day."

"When?"

"Next Wednesday."

"Well, I'll be in New York anyway."

Tyler cocked his head. "Pleasure or business?"

She blushed. "Pleasure. Jon Truss is finishing up his book tour and he invited me to his celebration party."

"I can't believe you're screwing a bestselling author."

Court's face became completely red. "I'm not screwing him."

"Yeah right. You probably got some this morning before coming here."

She had no choice but to concede. "Okay, I'm screwing him."

Tyler gently touched her arm. "I could use someone like you to help me in New York. There will be thousands of protesters. Whenever Kendrick opens another abortion clinic, he becomes a target for some nut with a gun."

"So why does he do it?"

Tyler shook his head. "Money."

Court opened her car door. "Okay, when do you need me?"

"I'll send you a text with the itinerary and our plan for the day. We should have the whole thing wrapped up in a few hours."

She didn't need the money, but since Kristy's name came up in connection with the Hanna kidnapping, Court needed to stay close to the Maynard's. It may be the only way she could locate her niece, because she didn't have anything else to go on at the moment.

"Sounds good," Court said. "See ya then."

### 32

By the time Seth and Kristy arrived at Hell, Michigan, both were beyond famished, not to mention exhausted. His original plan was to stay at the farm in Ohio for at least a year. They were there for less than twenty-four hours when things went wrong.

Seth of course was aware that his sister and brother had similar visions. He just didn't know that Judith saw the same thing. Now, Seth wondered if Judas had visions of Kristy as well. If so, was his brother hunting them down along with his sister?

The rule of the family was simple. Kill the person in your vision who would become a future killer. Seth had already broken that rule. Deep down, he could never harm Kristy, even if she would eventually harm others. Many years ago when Seth first planned to kidnap Kristy, he intended to murder her at that farm. As time passed, he fought an inner battle of morality.

There came a point in his life when he couldn't tell the difference between right and wrong. Would God want him to stop Kristy or not? After continuous prayer for wisdom, the only answer Seth received was that he would be on his own.

"I'm starving," Kristy said. She had been asleep for the last hour of the drive and just woken up.

Seth's arm still throbbed, but the bleeding had completely stopped. He needed food, rest, and a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol. He pulled into the parking lot of The Dam Sight Inn. "They have good burgers in this place."

"You've been here before?"

"No." He shut off the engine and they got out of the car. "I did research on places we can go just in case things went wrong."

"Things went wrong faster than you thought."

Seth rubbed his arm and winced. "That's an understatement."

The Dam Sight Inn was a mix of hotel and tavern. Everyone stared at them when they walked in. Most were local's, but Hell was common for tourists, so no one would pay attention who they were. The town had a local newspaper called, Hell Gazette, which only printed gossip and the latest events within city limits. Most people here were not in touch with the outside world which made this the second best hiding place for Seth and Kristy.

Actually the ideal hiding place would have been the farm, but that wasn't meant to be.

They ordered Red Souls, Devil Sticks, and Lakes of Fire. (Cheeseburgers with barbeque sauce, chili fries, and strawberry shakes.) Seth felt like he had drifted far away from being a good husband, father, and certainly not a good neighbor, so a place called Hell may be a sign of his final destination.

Kristy had gorged most of her cheeseburger and fries moments after her food arrived. "Why do they call this town Hell?" she asked with a full mouth.

"October 13, 1841, a man named George Reeves said, 'Call this place Hell for all I care.' And that's how it was named."

"The people seem nice." Kristy wiped her face with a napkin and slurped her shake. "How long are we going to stay?"

"Until things go wrong."

Kristy gave him a grin. "So we'll be here for a couple hours."

He laughed. "If that."

After eating, Seth and Kristy walked to Screams Ice Cream and shared a Dead Body. (Banana Split.) He also purchased a Hell Diploma for Kristy. The cashier scorched the keepsake with a lighter and said to her, "Congratulations. You're now a graduate of Hell."

For Seth, this had been a perfect distraction from what he had been dealing with. He kidnapped his neighbor who was only sixteen, is being hunted down by the FBI and police, and his sister wants to murder Kristy as well. Not quite the life he wanted.

The strange thing was how calm Kristy seemed to be. Since coming to Hell, she treated this as some sort of vacation. She may have assumed that he wasn't going to harm her.

Although, Seth did save her at the farm when Judith tried to kill her.

At the Hell's Country Store and Spirit's, Seth purchased Tylenol and let Kristy pick out a pair of jeans and a couple of T-shirt's with local sayings. Afterwards they went back to The Dam Sight Inn.

Their room had two queen size beds and a bathroom. Seth chose a room that was connected to the inn on the first floor just in case they had to escape. He didn't know where Judith was, but he knew for sure that she's still after them. Also, he's still a criminal on the run. But the longer he could keep Kristy away, the better chance she would have. As soon as the visions went away, Seth would bring her home.

"What about your arm?" Kristy asked.

"I'll be fine. Go ahead and jump in the shower." Kristy went into the bathroom without further discussion.

He turned on the television. At first he couldn't believe what he saw. It was a picture of his daughter, Alyssa.

Seth fumbled with the controller and turned the volume all the way up. " _Alyssa Stone was taken sometime last night by Moe Blackwell, father of Kristy Blackwell. This horrific story of feuding neighbors certainly has put the lives of two young girls in danger._ "

Every vein in Seth's body thumped as if injected with bitter poison. He gazed at the television, wanting his brain to catch up with his fear.

His daughter was taken? What did the news mean by feuding neighbors? He hadn't been fighting with Maxine or Kristy.

" _We will once again show this video, sent to us by Moe Blackwell._ "

A video appeared on the screen with Moe holding a hunting rifle pointed at Alyssa's head. " _I want Seth Stone to return my daughter by 7:00 tonight,_ " he said in a hick tone. " _Listen boy_ , _I will put a bullet in your daughter at 7:01 if Kristy isn't back._ " Moe spit juice from his tobacco and then stared at the camera. " _An eye for an eye._ "

The video stopped and the news anchor continued with her report. " _Sources from the FBI tell us that Seth Stone could be a victim himself. If that is the case, his daughter, Alyssa Stone, may not have much of a chance._ "

A victim? He couldn't imagine all the rumors and misguided stories being reported. On the television they showed scenes from outside his house and next door at Maxine's. There were media and police mixed in with hundreds of protesters, most of them holding up signs with racial slurs.

The broadcast continued. " _In related news, there was a development in the Hanna Maynard case. Sources tell us that her kidnapper, Nester Grath, was being controlled or influenced by Kristy Blackwell._ "

Seth gasped. He leaned forward, eyes wide.

" _We cannot confirm this, but Hanna Maynard stated that Nester Grath spoke of Kristy Blackwell and claimed that she was telling him what to do. Moments after Hanna's escape, the home where Nester held her hostage exploded as FBI and S.W.A.T. entered, killing six and wounding twenty others. Inside the house the burnt remains of Nester Grath had been discovered._ "

"Burning flesh and skin," Seth whispered to himself. Kristy already started to murder others, but she didn't do it herself. Instead, it was Nester Grath using her name.

Seth ran to the bathroom door and knocked. "Kristy, we need to get going." No answer. He could hear the water running. "Kristy, I'm coming in."

He opened the door, saw the curtain on the shower closed, but the clothes she was wearing weren't anywhere in sight.

The window was open. Seth hurried to it and looked outside.

Kristy was running toward the Dodge Charger, keys in hand.

### 33

It was late in the afternoon when Court arrived in Pittsburgh. She rented a car and met Jon at his hotel. His eyes were heavy and the charisma drained from his expression.

Jon's bodyguards, Gary and Rodney, explained to Court the busy day they had, which started at five o'clock this morning. Jon had six interviews with TV, radio, and newspaper affiliates. That was all before his book signing at ten o'clock. By then, Jon was already whipped, but he hung on another three hours and signed his name 674 times.

Then came lunch with his agent and publicist, followed by Jon being the guest speaker at a fundraiser for battered women in which he signed another 500 autographs and took pictures with just about everyone at the event. A second book signing had been sprung on him at Borders. Mercifully, it lasted only an hour.

When Gary let Court into the hotel room, Jon was on the bed, fully dressed except for his shoes, watching TV. That's when the news report about Alyssa's kidnapping came on. Court didn't believe in the word, "sources," which the anchor used several times. She turned off the television and crawled into bed with Jon.

He let out a colossal yawn. "I can't believe that dumb ass kidnapped Alyssa."

Court looked at her watch. It was 4:24. She rubbed Jon's chest. "Moe taking matters into his own hands is like putting gas on a fire.

Jon glanced at her. "You should talk."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I'm just saying, let the police and FBI handle Kristy's kidnapping."

"They did a great job with Hanna Maynard."

"She's alive."

"Yeah, because she stabbed Nester Grath with a screwdriver." Court rested her head on the pillow and gazed at Jon. "Besides, I was paid by the Maynard's to find Hanna. And my sister needs my help with Kristy."

He yawned again, then rolled over so that their faces were now just inches apart. "What's the latest?"

"I think you were right about someone kidnapping both Hanna and Nester."

"Really? Why?"

"Hanna lied to me about what happened."

"Interesting. This is good stuff."

Court kissed him on the cheek. "Stop assessing your next novel and focus on my problem."

"What was I thinking?" Jon said with a snigger. "You want me to keep telling you the story I would write?"

"Please."

"Well, Nester is dead and the true Ghoul is alive. It seems to me that the June 1st deadline hadn't meant anything. It was just something to increase the media attention."

"Do you still think it's some girl who kidnapped Hanna?"

Jon thought about the question. "No. It's undeniably a man. No one knows who he is, so that makes him a terrifying serial killer. In fact, the police and FBI don't even know he exists."

"And he threatened Hanna to keep quiet. But why?"

Jon rubbed his chin. "That's a good question. What would I do in my novel?" He thought for a moment. "Ghoul let her go for a reason, but at the same time, took a big risk that she wouldn't talk. However, there's one person in this world that Hanna would blab her most inner thoughts too."

"Her boyfriend."

"Correct. I would write in my story that Hanna tells her boyfriend everything, then he tries to become a knight in shining armor. He goes public and talks to the world about what really happened in order to act out his revenge on Ghoul. Hanna is mortified, because now Ghoul will come after her."

"Ghoul must have known this would happen."

"He wanted Hanna to mess up and tell her boyfriend. That would give him the excuse to kill both of them. I would make it gruesome. Like chop their heads off and-"

Court touched his mouth with the tips of her fingers. "Okay, I got it." She pulled in a deep breath. "You said before that Ghoul would kill me as well."

"Well, it would only make sense because you are the link between Kristy and Hanna. Ghoul somehow set this all up to act out his vengeance on you."

"That's comforting."

"I said that someone is controlling Seth, which turned him to evil. Maybe that someone is your niece, Kristy Blackwell. Remember on the news they said that Kristy was in contact with Nester, which means she was really in contact with Ghoul."

"Maybe Kristy wasn't really kidnapped, but went with Seth freely. That's why it was so easy for them to get away."

Jon laughed. "Nah. That's no fun. The plot should focus on how Ghoul and Seth are hearing voices or seeing visions that turned an average person into a killer. The fact they are hearing Kristy's voice is just an illusion."

"Like Son of Sam, who listened to the dog?"

"Exactly. That would be a kick ass story."

Court sat up. "Tell me what happens next."

"Besides me falling asleep in the next three minutes?"

She smiled. "I know you had a long day. Just give me the highlights."

"Well, Hanna and her boyfriend will be killed. Ghoul will also murder someone else. I'm thinking fire should be involved, since he has done that already."

"What about Kristy and Seth?" Court was terrified to hear the answer. So far, Jon had been somewhat accurate with his predictions, even if it's his own fiction story.

"Seth really believes that he and Kristy should stay together, which would cause a big conflict. Kristy will use that against him."

"How?"

"Maybe she will murder Seth, just like Hanna killed Nester to escape."

"But Nester wasn't her real kidnapper."

"Oh yeah. I'm getting the fact and fiction mixed up in my head."

"Just keep on telling me your fiction ideas, because right now, you have more merit than the police."

"I don't know." Jon yawned so hard, his eyes watered. "I can't think. Let me sleep on it."

"Just say the first thing that comes to your mind."

He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "I would write a scene where Kristy tries to escape and Seth comes after her. However, things go bad and she is accidentally killed."

"Oh shit." Court swung her legs around and leaped from the bed. "I can't let her die."

With his eyes still closed, Jon said, "Chill out. It's only fiction."

### 34

The golf club came down with a mighty force and crunched into his thigh. The leg snapped like a branch and shattered into pieces.

Ghoul held the club while giving him a sadistic grin. Sweat dripped down Ghoul's forehead. They were in a grungy home just outside of downtown Cleveland. An older couple lived here, currently next-door playing cards. It was a risk for Ghoul to be in the house, although he didn't expect the couple to return home for another three hours or so.

Ghoul only needed a few more minutes.

He lured Warren Browning, high school friend of Nester Grath, from California to here. It hadn't been that difficult to convince Warren to travel across the country. Ghoul phoned him and said, "I am a reporter for the Cleveland Magazine. We had already been doing a story on Kendrick Maynard. It was a two part series about his abortion clinics. With his daughter's kidnapping, we decided to add a third part, all about Nester Grath. We saw your interview on the news and would like you to fly to Cleveland and talk to us exclusively. You will have a first-class ticket waiting at LAX. After the interview, you will be paid $20,000."

Warren tried to play it off as if he had something better to do. "Well, I'm getting lots of requests. If you pay me $50,000, I'll give you the exclusive."

I think that could be arranged. I'll pick you up at Cleveland Hopkins Airport."

In the car, Ghoul reached into a cooler for a longneck Budweiser, twisted off the top and handed it to Warren. "This will help take the edge off your long flight," Ghoul said, as he masterfully slid a pill inside the beer. As Warren sucked down the Bud, he would also ingest a date rape drug called, Rohypnol.

Warren wasn't aware that he had a date with someone who was morbidly obsessed with death.

Breaking into someone's house in East Cleveland wasn't that hard. Choosing the house was even easier. Simply drive up and down the streets until you see the right one. Ghoul noticed an older couple walking next door with a bottle of wine and a covered dish. After waiting ten minutes, Ghoul parked four houses down and carried his drugged up friend into the older couple's home.

The front door was locked. Ghoul made one swift kick, separated the door from the hinge, and carried Warren inside. Ghoul heaved Warren through the living room and flung him on the dinning room table. "Don't move," Ghoul said. Warren mumbled something and then began to snore.

Usually Rohypnol doesn't put someone to sleep. However, Warren must have had a few drinks on the plane to celebrate his $50,000 payday.

Ghoul did a quick search around the house and found the golf clubs by the side door. He chose the seven iron.

Warren's eyes shot open when the club made contact. He was about to scream, but only a tiny squeak came from his mouth.

"Come on, Warren, you can do better than that." Ghoul swung again, this time connecting with Warren's chin. The bone cracked and fell sideways like something from a Tom and Jerry cartoon.

Once again, Warren only let out a yelp. His eyes flickered as if his mind drifted somewhere else, yet he could still feel the extraordinary pain.

Ghoul dropped the club and grabbed Warren by the arm. He dragged Warren to the kitchen and plopped him on the floor. Ghoul tugged on the stove and found the gas line. He attempted to twist it loose, but that didn't work. So he kicked the copper piping instead. The gas hissed like a snake that had been disturbed.

Ghoul took a quick glance out the window. He could actually see the older couple next door with another couple playing cards. The four of them had rosy cheeks and drunken smiles. In just a few moments, a horrific explosion will ruin their Pinochle hand.

The gas became a little nauseating. Ghoul wanted to get out in the fresh air and leave Warren to deal with things here. Ghoul opened the cabinets under the sink and found a can of wasp spray. He used the entire can on Warren, covering his whole body, paying extra attention to his face.

Ghoul reached in his pocket and took out a lighter. He glanced at the hissing stove and wondered if it he waited too long. If he flicked the lighter, maybe the fumes would kill him as well.

"Well, here we go," Ghoul said with a smile.

He secured his thumb on the lighter and flicked. The flame shot up with a beautiful glow. Ghoul dropped the lighter on Warren's face.

The blaze instantly melted the skin and eyeballs. This time, Warren let out a scream. As if some sort of magical illusion, Ghoul saw the flame rise in the air with a blue glimmer. He hurried out of the kitchen, through the dinning room and living room, then out the front door.

The explosion came in two surges. The first from the kitchen, the second right behind Ghoul. He could feel the combustion chase him across the front yard as the thunderous boom rung his ears.

Ghoul rolled on the ground to put out the small flames on his back. He then hurried to his car and drove off.

At the first payphone he saw, Ghoul put on his gloves and dialed 911. "There was an explosion at 3455 West 88th Street. Please send help."

"Sir, can you speak up?" the dispatcher said. "What is your name?"

"Kristy Blackwell made me do it." Ghoul laughed and dropped the phone.

### 35

Things were out of control. Moe was going to shoot Alyssa in one hour. Court remembered what a racist he was, so she fully believed that Moe would go through with this plan.

Jon was still asleep. He hadn't even undressed, but did crawl under the blankets. Court wished that she could snuggle next to him. They could shower together and order a late dinner with a few cocktails. The rest of the night they could make love and keep the problems of the outside world from penetrating the walls of the hotel room.

It would mean that Court would have to give up on her niece.

She went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. There had to be away to stop all this.

Her cell phone rang.

Court rushed to answer it, not wanting to wake Jon from his deep slumber. He rolled over, but didn't open his eyes.

"Hello."

"It's Maxine."

Court wondered how her sister had been holding up. "I saw the news. Does the FBI have any clue on where Moe is?"

"No."

"I'm sure..." Court was about to say that 'I'm sure Moe wouldn't go through with it,' but in all actuality, she was _not_ sure.

"Did you hear about the fire in Cleveland?"

Court didn't understand why Maxine cared about something a thousand miles away. "No, what happened?"

"Shortly after an explosion to someone's home, a man called 911 to report the fire."

Court rolled her eyes. "That seems logical."

"He said that, 'Kristy Blackwell made him do it.'"

That snapped Court into attention. "Which would be the second time that happened. You heard about Nester Grath making the same claim, right?"

"Yes. But Nester Grath is dead. Maybe someone saw the news and repeated what he said, although I can't imagine why?"

Court knew. It was because the same person who kidnapped Hanna, was the same person who murdered Nester, blew up that house in Michigan, and now was in Ohio. "Did they find anyone in the home?"

"One dead body, but the person didn't live there. An older couple who owned the home was next door playing cards when the explosion happened."

"Did neighbors see anyone run from the house?"

"The news didn't mention it."

Court paced around the bed as Jon snored. "Does the FBI still believe that Seth is the kidnapper?"

"They think he was taken as well by the same people who took..." Maxine sobbed through the phone. "Why would someone use Kristy's name? Is it a sick joke?"

For a moment Court considered that Kristy ran away with Seth. Maybe Kristy had an evil side to her? Jon mentioned that Seth was being controlled by an inner voice of some sort. Kristy may have manipulated him, along with Hanna's kidnapper who was on the loose. To make matters worse, his identity is still unknown.

Of course, Court kept her thoughts away from Maxine. "Time is running out on Alyssa. What is the FBI going to do?"

"I don't know. They aren't really talking to me."

That meant the FBI was considering the same thing as Court. It was possible that Kristy ran away and now has been the cause of at least two deaths and a kidnapping. Also, for whatever reason, Seth and some other guy have been manipulated by Kristy.

Then again, it could be that Jon was such a convincing writer that Court's imagination could be running wild.

"Do you need me in Jacksonville?"

"There's a rumor that the Maynard's paid you to find their daughter. Is that true?"

Court didn't want to answer that question, because her arrangement with the Maynard's was private. However, she didn't want to lie either. "They asked for my help."

"Hanna returned home."

"Not because of me."

"Maybe the kidnapper let his guard down because he discovered you were on the case."

Court knew that Maxine was now desperate to bring Kristy home and would try anything at this point. "The FBI has more resources than I do."

"How much did the Maynard's pay you?"

"I can't discuss-"

"Ten thousand?"

"Maxine, please don't-"

"What was it!" she screamed.

Court lowered her head and conceded defeat. "A million."

Maxine let out a few heavy breaths. "I can pull money from my retirement account. Maybe $50,000."

"I'm not taking a penny from you. Don't you understand? Kristy is my niece and you're my sister. I would do anything for either of you."

"I'm going to make a phone call today and get the money. You'll have it in a couple of weeks, but can you please start looking for her now."

"You're not listening to me. The money doesn't matter. And I've been trying to figure out what happened since you first told me she was kidnapped."

"I need to go. I'll call when the money is ready."

"Maxine!"

"Find her," she said, then hung up.

Court tried calling back, but Maxine didn't answer.

"What's going on?" Jon asked. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Everything okay?"

Court gazed at him for a moment. She wanted to fall into his arms and cry, but held strong. "I have to find Kristy. And I only have thirty-six minutes before Moe murders Alyssa." She sat on the bed. "If you could pick one spot where Seth and Kristy could be, what would you say?"

Jon reached out and rubbed her shoulder. "Don't ask me to guess, because I'll probably be wrong."

She rested her head on his lap. "If you were writing this story, where would they be right now? I don't care if you're wrong."

Jon ran his fingers through her red hair. "I suppose they would be in some remote location."

"The woods or mountains?"

"No. Somewhere that Seth can still watch the news and get updates on what's going on."

"Where?"

"Well, do we agree that Nester didn't really kidnap Hanna?"

"I agree."

"Then there's another monster out there."

Court rubbed the corner of her eyes, preventing the tears from spilling. "After an explosion in Cleveland, a 911 caller claimed that Kristy made him do it. At least one person was killed, but not the owners of the house."

"That would be the second time this has happened," Jon said, now more awake. "Also, the second time Kristy's name was brought up as the monster's reason for doing this. And don't forget, both Hanna and Kristy were kidnapped the same night."

"What do you think that all means?"

"Rule out coincidences. Hanna and Kristy's lives are associated in some way."

"So that means Kristy has been taken north?"

Jon placed his fingers under Court's chin and lifted her head so their eyes met. "If this were my story, Kristy would be in Michigan, just like Hanna."

Court slid out of the bed and stood up. "Which means they are together?"

"No," Jon said. "But they are close to each other."

### 36

The Dodge Charger roared to life just as Seth reached for the passenger's door. He was able to grab hold of the handle, only to discover it was locked. He banged his fist on the window as Kristy sped away.

A crowd of onlookers filed out of The Dam Sight Inn and the ice cream parlor. On the edge of town, a bride and groom had just walked out of a small church. The wedding party dressed in red and black, along with all guests took notice as the Charger's tires spun.

Seth realized that Kristy had buying time as she earned his trust. She waited for the perfect opportunity to escape when he let his guard down.

The Charger spun in a circle, creating a cloud of thick smoke. Seth looked around. All eyes were on him, which was exactly what he hoped to avoid. All the years he planned this were for nothing. What did he expect? Seth wasn't a kidnapper.

He was a good guy stuck in Hell.

"Come here!" Kristy shouted.

Seth's eyes snapped forward. She had the window down, engine still running. A few spectators began to walk away. Perhaps they figured it was just a little dispute and it was none of their business. Regardless, Seth felt a sense of relief as he jogged to the car.

Kristy stuck her hand out. "That's close enough."

He stopped. "Tell me what you want to do. I don't care anymore."

She considered the statement. "I heard the news. Alyssa has less than twenty minutes before my father kills her. She's one of my best friends and she's your daughter. What are we going to do?"

Seth wanted all this to end. But what choice did he have? He would have to find the police station in town and turn himself in. It was 6:42. Seth knew that Moe's pride would give him the courage to commit murder. In addition, he was a racist. Killing Alyssa was something that Moe believed would teach _niggers_ a lesson.

6:46.

Kristy was still in the Charger with the engine humming. She hit the gas, sped up next to him, and unlocked the doors.

As Seth climbed in he said, "I think the police station is on the other side of town. Take me there. It will be the only way we can save Alyssa."

"I heard my name on the news. That the killer claimed I made him burn that house down."

"That whole thing with Hanna Maynard had nothing to do-"

"It's not just that." She turned up the radio to the A.M. news channel. It was barely coming in, but they could hear the broadcast about Alyssa's kidnapping and the seven o'clock deadline approaching. Kristy said, "They also talked about an explosion in Cleveland. The 911 caller claimed that I made someone burn the house down."

Seth stared at her. "Are you sure that's what you heard?"

"Yes."

His eyes wandered out the window. "Maybe everything I saw about you has now been passed to someone else."

"Are you saying that I may not be the serial killer you envisioned?"

At first the visions that Seth had seemed unreal. Nevertheless, when something eats at your soul long enough it becomes real. "I don't know what to believe anymore."

"I believe you," Kristy said, her voice soft and cracked with sorrow. "It couldn't be a coincidence that two houses exploded, in two different states, and my name is connected to both of them."

Seth's fingers began to quiver. He was caught between worlds of insanity and righteousness. "Whether I'm right or wrong, we only have eight minutes to save Alyssa. What can we do?"

Kristy touched his arm. "I have an idea."

### 37

Maxine's phone rang. The house was full of FBI agents, ready to trace the call. It was 6:58 and Moe would be checking in to see if Kristy's on her way back home.

Brandi was in the dining room pacing back and forth. Her husband and daughter may both be dead in just a couple more minutes. A lump in her throat had formed and her chest ached to see them both walking through the front door. An FBI agent guided her to the living room and placed a headset on her so she could listen to the call.

When Maxine answered the phone, she was shocked by the voice. It wasn't Moe. It was Kristy.

"My God, are you okay?" Maxine cried out. "Where are you?"

"Mom, I don't have a lot of time. Has dad called yet?"

"No. Are you safe?"

"Yes."

"Where are you?"

"Give dad this number: 734-426-6108. Tell him to call me."

The other line beeped. Tears spilled from Maxine's eyes. "That's probably him. Did Seth kidnap you?"

"No. It was someone else."

"What?" Maxine screamed. "Where are you?"

Mike Willis, the FBI agent in charge whispered in Maxine's ear. "You need to answer the other line."

"Call me back," she said to Kristy. "Will you do that?" Kristy had already hung up. "Oh God, no!"

"Ms. Blackwell," Mike said in stern tone. "Please answer the other line."

She clicked over. "Hello."

"It's me, baby," Moe said with his low, hick voice. "Is my little girl home?"

"I'm not your baby," Maxine said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I don't know why you kidnapped Alyssa. That's not the way to handle things."

"Is Kristy coming home or not?" he shouted.

"She wants you to call her at this number...734-426-6108." Maxine looked at the FBI agents. "Please don't hurt Alyssa. She has nothing to do with this."

"Her father is a nigger who took my little girl."

"You haven't seen Kristy in years! How can you even pretend like you care what happens?"

Mike whispered in her ear, "Ms. Blackwell, calm down. Please, for the safety of Alyssa and Kristy."

Maxine gripped the phone. "Call Kristy and let Alyssa go."

"Don't tell me what the fuck to do. While the FBI has their heads stuck up their ass, I actually did something to make contact with our daughter."

Maxine hung up. "I can't do this," she cried.

Mike grabbed a hold of her arms and guided her to a female agent. As they walked away, he addressed the team. "Do we have a location on Kristy Blackwell?"

"A payphone in Hell, Michigan," an agent responded. "We have a chopper seven minutes away. The ETA for the other agents in route is twenty-two minutes. Police in Hell have been notified, along with Michigan State Troopers."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "The town is called Hell?"

"Yes."

"Block all roads," Mike ordered. "Let's bring Kristy and Alyssa home today."

~

Kristy answered the phone on the first ring. "Dad?"

"Oh baby girl, it's good to hear your voice. Where are you?"

"I ran away from home," Kristy lied. "You shouldn't have taken Alyssa. Her father had nothing to do with me leaving."

"But the news said that he took you."

"No, the news said that Seth was a suspect."

"Is he with you now?"

"No. I don't know where he is."

"Meet up with me in Dallas. I'll take care of you."

"Only if you let Alyssa go."

"I will."

"Now?"

"Yes, baby girl. Right now."

"Fine. I'll be there in a day or so." Kristy hung up and turned to Seth. "Okay, we better get out of here."

Seth pointed to the car. "I have everything loaded. Let's go."

~

Mike Willis clicked his cell phone shut. He marched into the dinning room where Brandi had been sitting.

She jumped up and ran to him, eyes red with tears. "Is Alyssa okay?"

"We know where Moe is holding her," Mike said. "They are at a mechanics garage only ten miles from here. The place went out of business about four months ago."

Brandi took in a small breath. "What now?"

"We have a team that has arrived at that location. We'll do everything we can." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Kristy claims that she had been taken by someone other than Seth."

Her eyes met with his. "What does that mean?"

"Well, it means that Kristy had been forced to make the call in order to save your daughters life."

Brandi stepped back. "Forced by whom?"

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Your husband." He blew out a sigh. "Police in Hell, Michigan told us that there were witnesses who saw both a young female and older male arguing. They fit the descriptions of Kristy and Seth."

Brandi fell to her knees; hands over her face. "He really took Kristy?"

Mike stood over her. "We have to save Kristy, no matter what. Let's just hope your husband doesn't put up a fight."

### 38

Seth had the gas pedal pushed all the way to the floor. A police car was about a half mile behind them, flashers on, not gaining any ground. "I don't know where to go from here," he said. "Police will verify they saw us together." He glanced in the mirror, face twisted with pain. "I'll spend the rest of my life in prison."

"What other possible outcome could there have been?" Kristy asked. "You made the decision to sacrifice your life the moment you came into my room."

"I know." Seth hit the brakes.

"What's wrong?"

"There's a roadblock ahead." Seth turned off the engine. "It's over."

Kristy unbuckled her seatbelt. "Look at me."

He turned as a tear slid from his eye. "What is it?"

"You were trying to save me."

"No one will believe that."

"People are dying and the murderers are using my name. You were right. I was somehow involved. Maybe I would have done the things you envisioned."

Seth glanced in the rearview mirror. He saw the police car and a helicopter approaching. "There's nothing we can do about it now."

Kristy grabbed his arm. "There _is_ something we can do. Here's what you and I should say..."

~

Moe used a knife to cut the rope loose from Alyssa. "Get," he said, pointing to the door.

Alyssa didn't hesitate. She sprinted out of the garage.

Moe sucked on one end of a tube that he had placed inside the gas tank of an abandoned car. Soon as the gas hit his mouth, he raised the tube above his head and drenched himself. Moe then raised his rifle. "Kristy Blackwell!" he shouted. His voice boomed off the walls.

The FBI scurried in, guns pointed at him. "Drop your weapon and get down on the ground!"

"Kristy Blackwell!" he shouted again. Moe tucked the rifle under his arm, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pack of smokes and a lighter.

"Put down the gun and get on the floor!" an agent ordered. The FBI team inched closer. "This is your last warning!"

"Kristy Blackwell!" Moe screamed, tears running down his face. He licked his lips, tasting the gasoline. With the rifle still tucked under his arm, Moe took out a cigarette, dropped the pack, and flicked the lighter. Before the cigarette was even lit, the skin on his face ignited.

He fell to the floor as gasoline burned away his flesh.

~

Seth lay down on the road face first as a Hell Police Officer kneeled on his back and cuffed him.

Kristy was being dragged away by the FBI agents toward the helicopter. "He didn't do anything!" she pleaded. "We both were taken!"

The police officer yanked Seth to his feet and they headed to the cruiser. "FBI will speak with you at the station," the officer said. "My advice is to keep your mouth shut until then." He then read Seth his rights.

Kristy continued to fight with the agents as they lifted her up and placed her in the helicopter. "He's my friend!" she screamed. "Why won't you listen to me?"

As the officer opened the back door of the cruiser, Seth whispered, "I'm just relieved she's going home."

### 39

FBI Special Agent Mike Willis had arranged to meet Court in New York. At first, she thought he was hitting on her, but his tone sounded official. Jon was busy this week with a book signing in Philadelphia, followed by more signings in New York, along with a full schedule of events and media interviews.

As for Court, her assignment later would be to wait for the arrival of Kendrick Maynard. She needed to meet Tyler and the other bodyguards at the new clinic and secure the area the best they could.

Court had another hour before she had to leave. Mike showed up at her hotel, but she arranged for them to talk downstairs in a conference room.

"How are things?" Mike asked as they sat down at a large table made for twenty people.

"Have you spoken to Kristy?"

"It's being handled."

Court didn't know what that meant. She noticed that Mike's face lined with exhaustion. He didn't seem his normal vibrant self. He obviously wasn't here to ask Court out on a date. Nevertheless, it must be pretty important for him to travel all this way just to speak with her.

"What about Seth? Did he kidnap Kristy or was it someone else?"

"Being handled," Mike repeated. "I'm here to talk about you."

She became defensive. "I didn't interfere with the investigation one bit. Nonetheless, I would like to know why people continue to die and blame Kristy. I saw on the news that Kristy's father yelled her name before setting himself on fire. What's the connection between my niece and these deaths by fire?"

"We are looking into all that."

Evidently he wasn't going to give her any information. "What do you want?"

Mike folded his hands on the table. His eyes met wit hers. "You were paid a million dollars to find Hanna Maynard and bring her home safely."

"Did I break a law?"

"You tell me?"

"I was Hanna's bodyguard and had a close relationship with her. The family trusted me, because they couldn't depend on anyone else." Her skin prickled with anger. "Kendrick and Pricilla are hated by most people, which includes the FBI and police. They turned to me out of desperation."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "After you were paid, Hanna Maynard suddenly showed up. For the most part, she's unharmed."

"And?"

"FBI in Michigan doesn't believe Hanna actually escaped, but rather she was abducted by someone who also kidnapped Nester Grath."

Court believed the same thing, but wondered if it would help her cause to mention that. The reality of the situation was that Mike was here to accuse her of something. "Why didn't the FBI in Michigan pursue the investigation further?"

"Who says they're not?"

"Okay, what does that have to do with me?"

Mike pulled in a deep breath, unfolded his hands, and relaxed his posture. He gawked at her for a long moment. "What about the million dollars the Maynard's gave you?"

"I'm not sure what you're asking?"

"Did you give it back? After all, you really didn't do anything to save Hanna."

Court's face became red as her hair. The crimson anger traveled down her neck and through her arms. "I was paid to do a job. The details of that job are none of your business."

"Fair enough. What about your sister?"

"Again, I don't understand the question." Court was about to stand up and walk out. Conversely, she remained her seat because her legs felt numb. Whatever Mike was accusing her of would result in guilt if she left the room.

"Maxine recently hired you to bring home her daughter. She submitted paperwork to withdrawal $50,000 from an insurance policy. The money will arrive in about two weeks."

Court slouched in her chair. "Maxine told you that?"

Mike waved his hand. "Let's not get into how we obtain our information. My question is, did you call your sister and explain that she wouldn't have to go through with the transaction? I'm sure you are aware that Maxine will take a big hit on her taxes for doing this."

"The conversation I had with my sister is none of your business," Court said, her voice strained with frustration. The reality was she never thought about giving the million back to the Maynard's and she tried to tell Maxine several times not to go through with the fifty grand transaction, but as usual, Maxine didn't listen. "What are you suggesting?"

"Well, I can't tell you what to do," Mike said, smacking his hand on the table. "I just find it strange that there have been two kidnappings, both are connected to you, and both mother's of the children offered you money to bring them home. Just after the _offer_ was made, the children showed up safely." He cocked his head. "Or was all that just a coincidence?"

She lowered her eyes. That would be a sure sign of guilt, but Court wasn't trying to hide her shame. The fact remained that she took money from the Maynard's and was offered money by her sister. Meanwhile, Court had nothing to do with Hanna or Kristy's safe return.

"I admit that maybe I should have returned most of the money that Pricilla Maynard gave me. I tried to convince Maxine not to pay me the fifty thousand, but she wouldn't listen. Perhaps, I should have called her the moment I found out Kristy was safe and begged my sister not to withdrawal that money." Court leveled her eyes with Mike. "But you aren't here because of moral issues. You think I had something to do with the kidnappings."

"When Kristy was placed on the helicopter, she claimed that both she and Seth were kidnapped. That Seth tried to foil the crime, but instead became a victim himself."

Court swallowed down a lump that had formed in her throat. "When I questioned Hanna, she definitely was hiding something. I also considered that Nester wasn't the true kidnapper."

Mike leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "You questioned Hanna Maynard? Afterwards, you suspected that something was wrong with her story, but told no one?"

Actually, Court told Jon, but she wouldn't admit that. "The FBI had already questioned her. I thought if they were satisfied, then case closed. Why should I get it the way of professionals?"

Mike chuckled, stood up, and leaned the palms of his hands on the table. His eyes steady with hers. "Where were you during the explosion in Livonia, Michigan?"

"I was in Cleveland with Jon Truss."

"And where were you when Warren Browning was beaten to death in Cleveland and left to burn alive?"

Court felt her muscles snap together. "Warren Browning? Wasn't he the friend of Nester Grath? That's who died in that explosion in Cleveland?"

Mike smacked his hand on the table so hard it almost flipped over. "Answer me! Where were you?"

Her mind seemed to stop working. She wanted to rattle off the answer and not appear to be guilty, but she couldn't think. "I was in..."

Mike smacked his hand on the table again. "Where?"

"Pittsburgh," Court said with a frustrated tear drizzling from her eye. "I was in Pittsburgh, okay?"

"Can anyone collaborate your story?"

She began to lose her breath. Mike was actually wearing her down. "I was with Jon Truss."

He gave her a sarcastic grin. "Well, isn't that convenient. Jon Truss the fiction author can back your story. The guy makes up stories for a living...and he's good at it."

Court shook her head. "Also his bodyguards, Rodney and Gary."

"You know them by name?"

She blew out a defeated sigh. "They're friends of mine."

"Of course they are," Mike said walking away. "I'll be in touch."

### 40

Room One

_FBI Agent, Jason Cook_ : "What happened the night Kristy Blackwell was taken?"

_Seth_ : "I had been up late talking with my wife. It was after midnight when I went downstairs to calm down."

_Cook_ : "Calm down? Were you fighting?"

_Seth_ : "No. I was frustrated about my lack of sleep."

_Cook_ : "What happened when you went downstairs?"

Seth and Kristy didn't have much time to get their stories straight. Most certainly they would be caught in a lie, but Seth was willing to give it his best, just as Kristy was doing in the other room.

He also assumed that Brandi didn't tell the Fed's what was discussed the night he took Kristy. "It was around one o'clock in the morning when I noticed someone enter the Blackwell's home."

_Cook_ : "Why didn't you call the police?"

_Seth_ : "It could have been Maxine or maybe Kristy, I wasn't sure. But since it was so late, I decided to check it out. No different than I've done many other times over the years to make sure they were safe."

_Cook_ : "You went next door. Then what happened?"

_Seth_ : "Someone grabbed me by the mouth. That's the last thing I remember."

Room Two

_FBI Agent, Shari Reed_ : "Your mother gave us permission to speak with you in order to speed up the investigation. So what happened when you were taken?"

_Kristy_ : "Someone grabbed my mouth. I opened my eyes, but all I could see was a person wearing a mask. Then I blacked out. The next thing I knew, I was in the back of a car."

_Reed_ : "What kind of car?"

_Kristy_ : "A blue Dodge Charger."

_Reed_ : "How did you know it was a Charger?"

_Kristy_ : "I know cars."

_Reed_ : "Were you tied up?"

_Kristy_ : "Yes. And Seth was next to me, also tied up."

_Reed_ : "Who was driving?"

_Kristy_ : "I don't know."

Room One

_Cook_ : "Did the kidnapper speak to you?"

_Seth_ : "Yes."

_Cook_ : "Did the voice sound familiar?"

_Seth_ : "It was my sister, Judith."

_Cook_ : "Are you certain of this?"

_Seth_ : "Yes."

_Cook_ : "Where does she live?"

_Seth_ : "I don't know. We haven't spoken in years."

_Cook_ : "Where did she take you?"

_Seth_ : "To a farm in Ohio." Seth gave the exact directions.

_Cook_ : "What happened next?"

_Seth_ : "She threatened us and said that if I tell anyone what happened, she would have my wife and daughter killed, along with Kristy's mother."

_Cook_ : "How could you tell anyone? Weren't you tied up?"

_Seth_ : "She was going to let me go. Said that I wasn't part of the plan. She just wanted Kristy."

Room Two

_Kristy_ : "In the farm I overheard that the woman was going to kill me. I was able to escape from the bedroom and make it to the barn where the Charger was parked."

_Reed_ : "Where was Seth?"

_Kristy_ : "Downstairs. When I started the car and drove out of the barn, Seth was there. The woman chased him and began to shoot. A bullet had already grazed Seth's arm when he tried to escape."

_Reed_ : "How did you start the car? Are you telling me the keys were in it?"

_Kristy_ : "I overheard that the woman was going to let Seth go. It sounded like she knew him. She had a van already at the farm. I'm assuming she was going let Seth leave with the Charger. So yes, the keys were inside."

_Reed_ : "What kind of van did she have?"

_Kristy_ : "Not sure."

_Reed:_ "I thought you knew cars?"

_Kristy:_ "I believe it was a silver Honda Odyssey."

Room One

_Cook_ : "The title of the Charger is in a fake name."

_Seth_ : "I don't know anything about that."

_Cook_ : "How did you get away?"

_Seth_ : "Kristy had escaped from the room upstairs. She jumped off the roof of the front porch, made it to the barn, and took the Charger."

_Cook_ : "The keys were in it?"

_Seth_ : "Yes."

_Cook_ : "You mean your sister planned this out so well, but left the keys in the Charger?"

_Seth_ : "Judith was going to let me go. She had a silver Honda Odyssey ready at the farmhouse."

_Cook_ : "What happened next?"

_Seth_ : "I ran outside. Judith shot at me and a bullet nipped my arm. That's when I saw Kristy in the Charger."

_Cook_ : "Where did you go?"

_Seth_ : "We didn't know what to do, so we kept driving. Finally we ended up in Hell, Michigan."

_Cook_ : "Why didn't you go to the police once you arrived in Hell?"

_Seth_ : "We kept hearing that Kristy's name in the news connected with the Hanna Maynard kidnapping, then with the explosion in Cleveland. I patched my arm up, then Kristy and I decided to eat something and get a room at The Dam Site Inn so we could clear our heads and figure out what to do. That's when we heard that Alyssa had been kidnapped. We were confused."

_Cook_ : "Confused? I'm not buying it."

_Seth_ : "Well, that's what happened."

Room Two

_Reed_ : "Witnesses said that you and Seth had a pretty big lunch, then you even left The Dam Sight Inn to have ice cream. He purchased a souvenir for you?"

_Kristy_ : "Seth was just trying to get me to relax. Afterwards, we got a room at The Dam Site Inn."

_Reed_ : "Why didn't you go to the police?"

_Kristy_ : "We were confused and terrified."

_Reed_ : "Even more reason to find the police station in Hell."

_Kristy_ : "My name kept popping up in connection to the Hanna Maynard kidnapping, along with the murder in Cleveland. Then my father kidnapped Alyssa. We didn't know what was going on."

_Reed_ : "Weren't you afraid the kidnaper would hunt you down?"

_Kristy_ : "Of course I was afraid that would happen. Seth and I were considering all our options."

_Reed_ : "Witnesses claim they saw you drive away in the Charger and Seth chased you."

_Kristy_ : "I lost it for a moment, but I never left Seth behind."

Room One

_Seth_ : "Kristy and I fought about what we should do. To make matters worse, we didn't have much time to decide. I thought that it was possible Moe could be working with my sister."

_Cook_ : "How would Moe know your sister?"

_Seth_ : "I don't know, but nothing seemed to make sense. That's when we decided that Kristy should call her house and see if there was a way to get a hold of her father. Then she convinced her father to let my daughter go. After that, Kristy and I decided to leave Hell."

_Cook_ : "Why would you leave?"

_Seth_ : "My sister had to be looking for us. She may have been close. Once that the news broke we were in Hell, Michigan, Judith would come there. We only trusted the FBI. If we left, the FBI would catch up to us and handle the situation."

Room Two

_Kristy_ : "We only trusted the FBI. The local police could screw things up. What if the kidnapper found us as the news reported we were in Hell, Michigan? Our only hope was to run until the Fed's located us, which we were confident would happen."

_Reed_ : "Why did you stop when a Hell police officer was behind you?"

_Kristy_ : "We saw state troopers up ahead and the helicopter approaching. There was enough protection that we could stop."

Room Three

FBI agents Jason Cook and Shari Reed were on conference call with Mike Willis.

_Mike_ : "Do you believe their story?"

_Cook_ : "I don't."

_Reed_ : "Neither do I. There's something they are hiding."

_Mike_ : "Have you checked out the Charger?"

_Cook_ : "Fingerprints are only that of Seth and Kristy. No prints in the backseat."

_Reed_ : "Yeah, but their hands were tide and they were knocked out for most of the time. Also, the kidnapper most certainly wore gloves, so that's probable."

_Mike_ : "What about the farm in Ohio?"

_Cook_ : "Paid for in cash. The same name as the Charger, which is fake."

_Reed_ : "Seth claims that it was his sister who kidnapped them. Also, Moe Blackwell could be her partner."

_Mike_ : "What's his sister's name?"

_Reed_ : "Judith Stone.

_Mike_ : "Have we tried to locate her?"

_Reed_ : "She lives in Venic City, Iowa."

_Cook_ : "I sent a team to her home, but she wasn't there. It's a pretty tight community, very Zen like town. Neighbors claim Judith hadn't been there in a couple of weeks. Every person in the city has to report twice a day to the town hall for meditation. Judith hadn't shown up. Our team found a stack of mail at her house and the fridge was empty. Also, she had clothes missing from her closet and dresser."

_Mike_ : "What kind of vehicle does she drive?"

_Reed_ : "A silver Honda Odyssey, just like Kristy and Seth described."

_Cook_ : "Do you still think that Courtney Egan is involved? What did she say when you questioned her in New York?"

_Mike_ : "Let's just concentrate on finding Judith Stone...I'll handle Court."

### 41

The three of them returned to their respective homes. Kristy cried with her mother in the living room for hours. Maxine questioned her daughter, but couldn't get much information from her other than she was safe. That's the most important thing right now anyway.

Seth, Brandi, and Alyssa fell to their knees, held hands in a circle, and gave the Lord a prayer of thanks. Each took turns, with a humble voice, thanking God for the strength and wisdom to survive such an ordeal.

However, Seth felt like his soul had been awarded a head start to hell. Not the city in Michigan, but the lake of fire that awaited all those who went against God's will.

The doctor prescribed Alyssa medication to help her rest. When she fell asleep in her bedroom, Seth and Brandi went outside in the backyard to speak. They were afraid that the FBI planted bugs or listening devices in the house. The situation wasn't resolved, especially now that Judith was being hunted down.

They sat down on the grass; legs crossed, and spoke in low voices. Brandi asked, "What really happened?"

"I'm not sure you should know."

"Fuck you," Brandi snapped. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, then glared at him with hatred.

The last time he heard Brandi swear was in high school. "You know I took her," Seth whispered.

"And made a liar out your wife. I could have been arrested when the FBI questioned me. I gave them everything _but_ the truth."

"By taking Kristy, I saved her and many lives. She was going to be a serial kill-"

Brandi put her hand up. "Stop it. I don't want you discussing your visions in an attempt to justify what you did."

"I'm not trying to justify anything. I did, however, save lives. Whether you believe that or not is up to you."

Brandi's lips curled in. Her eyes wandered in every direction and her chest rose up and down with aggravation. Or possibly it was disappointment. She gazed at Seth. "Kristy's name has been connected with several other deaths that were caused when people burned alive. Because of that, I do believe some of what you're saying. Nevertheless, you're still wrong for kidnapping her."

"I may still go to jail. The FBI probably could tell Kristy and I lied to them, but they had no proof of what really happened."

"How did you get Kristy to go along with lying to the FBI?"

"Actually, it was her idea."

"She believes you?"

"Not at first. It was after all those news reports that brought up her name with the fires and the people burning alive that changed her mind."

"Well if she believes what you did was right then I will." Brandi raised her eyes to hold back the tears. "When Moe took Alyssa, I didn't hate him for doing that. Instead, I hated you for causing all this to happen."

"That's understandable."

"How did your sister get involved with all this?"

"Judith had been watching us and the house next door."

"Judith was watching us?"

"Yes. She had the same visions as I did."

"If you didn't kidnap Kristy, Judith would have?"

"Yes." Seth looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Judith followed us to a farm in Ohio. She was going to murder Kristy for the same reasons that I was supposed too."

"Obviously you got away."

"When Moe kidnapped Alyssa, we were in Hell, Michigan. Kristy came up with the plan to save Alyssa and me at the same time." He let out a sigh. "Kristy is only sixteen, but it seems she's much smarter than I'll ever be. Her bravery was heroic."

"What happens when they find Judith? Won't your sister tell them the truth?"

"I would think so."

"Then you could still go to prison."

"If they believe her."

Brandi lowered her head. "And what about your brother, Judas?"

"What about him?"

"Does he have the same visions as you and Judith? If so, he could come after Kristy as well."

"I thought about that. It's possible."

Brandi's eyes met with his. "With Kristy home, are you afraid that she might turn into the monster that you envisioned?"

"I've considered that could still happen. I'm hoping that I changed the course of events, but who knows."

Brandi fell forward and hugged Seth. "There's so much going against you."

"I know," Seth replied, rubbing her back.

"Are we safe?"

"Right now we are. However, tomorrow, things could start over again."

### 42

The eight bodies stretched out like logs on the basement floor. The home belonged to Paula Shay, a twenty-four-year-old mistress of Chicago Congressman, Oliver Towdrell.

Paula, Congressman Towdrell, and six of his staff members were all gagged. Their feet bound and arms tied behind their backs.

Ghoul stood over them. Next to him were three gas cans and a box of matches. The home was located in Pittsburgh, where Towdrell kept his secret lover...Paula Shay.

Towdrell had been in town to raise campaign funds from a prominent businessman who was thinking about moving to Chicago. The businessman wanted his real estate deals to go through in Chicago, along with some other assistance for promoting his company and ways for his contract arrangements to run smoothly. In exchange, the businessman was willing to donate two million dollars into the Towdrell campaign.

Of course, there wasn't a businessman, nor a deal pending. It was Ghoul's idea to lure the congressman away from safety and into a deathtrap.

Ghoul informed Towdrell that no one could know about this transaction. Secrecy was needed by both parties. Towdrell recommended they meet somewhere away from the Chicago area. He suggested Paula's home in Pittsburgh. The businessman (Ghoul) accepted the invitation and asked to meet some of Towdrell's most trusted staff members. The businessman wanted to get to know all the key players in order to make a decision on whether this was a valuable investment.

Towdrell left his wife and three children in Chicago and traveled to his mistress's house in Pittsburgh, along with six vital members of his staff.

Now, they were all about to die.

Ghoul leaned down and unzipped the congressman's slacks. Towdrell squirmed, but could do nothing about it. Next, he pulled down Towdrell's silk boxers. Ghoul stood up and smiled. "That's more like it. Now when you burn, the skin on your cock and balls will melt away with much more ease."

Ghoul fixed his eyes on Paula. She was gorgeous, with silk blonde hair, trim body, and large breasts. She wore jeans that were snug against her crotch and a pink shirt that rose just above her flat stomach. Even under this condition, her blue eyes flashed with ecstasy. It had been at least a year since Ghoul last had sex. Paula made the blood in his cock flow strong. He stood over her and said, "Do you want to be let go?" Without giving it a moments thought, she shook her head yes. "I hate to ask this, but would you give me a blowjob?"

Her eyes became glossed with tears. She shook her head, yes.

"And when we finish, will you pour the gasoline over the seven guests, light the match, and make sure they burn?"

Paula closed her eyes, debating how bad she wanted to live. Would she kill her lover and six other people in the hopes that she could walk out of here unharmed?

Ghoul was guessing that she would. If history has proven anything, it showed that all people could kill at some point. Under the perfect circumstances, anything was possible.

Paula shook her head yes.

Ghoul was pleased. "Will you tell the police and FBI that I am a sixteen-year-old girl, with dirty blonde hair, clear eyes, pale skin, and thin body? Oh, and my name is Kristy Blackwell. Can you do that for me?"

Paula stared at Ghoul for a moment, then shook her head yes.

"Now keep in mind that if you go against me in any way, I will be forced to kill you in a much harsher way than your friends. And don't think that anyone can protect you." Ghoul pointed at Towdrell. "He's a U.S. Congressman from Chicago about to get his pecker burned off. I can get to anyone, agreed?"

Another yes from Paula.

"Very well." Ghoul reached down and pulled off her gag. Next, he undid her bounds.

She rubbed her wrists and stood up. A few tears drizzled out of her eyes. "You promise to let me go?"

"Sure. Do you promise to blow me, kill everyone, and tell the police it was Kristy Blackwell that did all this?"

"I will, it's just that..."

"What?"

"Maybe not all of them need to die. They can tell the same story."

Ghoul gave her a sharp gaze. "Maybe you need to lie back down and suffer the same fate as them."

Paula swallowed, then flashed her blue eyes at Ghoul. "Let's just get this over with."

"I want you to kneel by the congressman's head." Paula did as she was told. Ghoul stood over Towdrell with a foot on each side of his body. He unzipped his pants, moved his underwear to the side, and pulled out his cock. "Get sucking."

Paula glanced down at Towdrell. She opened her mouth and reached her hand out, but Ghoul took a step back.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I just wanted to see if you really would do it. I don't want your hands or mouth on me."

Paula stood up. "So now what?" she asked with a shaky voice. Paula may have been wondering if the deal was off and she's going to be killed like the rest of them.

Ghoul stepped away from Towdrell and zipped up. "Pour a few drops of the gasoline on the congressman's little pecker. Then light it on fire.

Paula hesitated for a moment. She grabbed one of the gasoline cans and tipped it over on Towdrell. The gas splashed over the skin and on the two people to his side.

"That was a little much," Ghoul said, laughing. "Now set that prick on fire."

Paula put the can down and grabbed the box of matches. She opened the box, pulled out a match, and struck it. "I'm sorry," she said to Towdrell, although her voice had little mercy. Ghoul figured that deep down, this was something she always dreamed of doing, but of course would never have the chance.

Towdrell shook his head no, eyes wide with terror as he tried to roll over, but was too close to the other bodies. Paula dropped the lit match on him.

A blue flame ignited, followed by glowing ambers that scuffled in the air like fireflies. Towdrell screamed through his gag. The skin burned and instantly turned reddish-black.

"Now kill the rest of them," Ghoul said, pleased with the display.

Paula dumped the remaining gas on the other bodies, grabbed a second can, and emptied that as well. The six staff members groaned with the impending death. Towdrell continued to squirm, lift his knees up, and scream through his gag.

Paula lit a second match and dropped it on a staff member. As the blaze erupted, Ghoul snagged the third can and tugged Paula's arm. "Let's go."

As they walked up the stairs, the smell of burnt flesh reached their noses. Ghoul emptied the gas can with a trail that led through the living room. He dropped the can when they arrived at the front door.

"Who did this?" he asked Paula.

"Kristy Blackwell," she replied as they marched out the front door. "Thank you for not killing me."

Ghoul smiled. "No problem." He closed his fist and punched her square in the nose. Blood spilled down her face. Paula's eyes rolled back and she dropped to the porch. Ghoul punched her again, this time landing on her skull. "I'll be watching you," he said.

Ghoul jogged away from the burning home.

### 43

Barnes & Noble in New York had a line that stretched from Jon's table, out the door, and down three blocks. The bodyguard Rodney stood next to him while Gary worked the crowd in search of anyone suspicious.

Jon was a fiction writer, but many fans took his work a little too seriously. In his novel, _Bullet to Bone_ , the main character was an assassin. It's always possible that someone might try to murder Jon because that's the kind of storyline he wrote in his book.

It wasn't quite the ideal situation when protecting an author with a mob plowing through the doors. Then again, at least Jon always had a big crowd to purchase his books.

Court glanced at her watch. She would have to leave for her other job. Kendrick Maynard's private jet had already landed. He would be arriving at the New York abortion clinic soon. It's only a couple blocks away, so she had a few moments to see Jon work his magic.

His fan base was women between the ages of thirty-four and forty-five. That basically constituted all the mom's who adored Jon Truss for his sex scenes, strong women characters, and fast paced books.

Before leaving the hotel, Court watched the news. A congressman from Chicago, along with his six staff members, were burned alive in the home of Paula Shay. She had escaped, but not without getting her pretty face bashed in.

Court knew that Paula was the mistress to Oliver Towdrell. Bodyguards all gossiped about what their clients did on the side. Also, it's the job of bodyguards to know every little secret of the person they're protecting.

Now, Towdrell's dead. The rumor was that he had been visiting Paula, but that didn't make sense that he would bring his top staff members with him. And more baffling was that the bodyguards were told to wait at the hotel. This meant that Towdrell was working on something illegal. Probably the deal went bad and the congressman paid the price.

Then came the real shocking news.

Paula claimed that Kristy Blackwell was the one who burned Towdrell and his staff alive. Paula described Kristy in detail. Police didn't believe this story, because Paula could have gotten Kristy's description from the many news reports at the time she went missing.

Regardless, Kristy was home during the incident and had witnesses. Two of those witnesses were police officers watching the house, because Kristy's life was still in danger. FBI had yet to locate Judith Stone who was wanted for her kidnapping.

Things became worse when Gibbor Figgins, Hanna's boyfriend, posted on his Facebook page that Nester Grath wasn't the real kidnapper. Gibbor also posted the description of the person everyone should be looking for.

It wasn't a surprise to Court that Hanna lied about what really happened. It's also not a surprise that Hanna confided in her boyfriend. Even so, Court couldn't believe that Gibbor was stupid enough to post that on the Internet. Now, whoever the real kidnapper was would be looking for revenge.

Hanna and Gibor had since run away together; the FBI's looking for them both, but from what the news reported, no leads as of yet on their location.

With all this going on, Kendrick Maynard still came to New York. His precious abortion clinic had to open on schedule. Money was at stake, which at the moment was more important that his daughter missing again.

Court put the word out to her bodyguard network that she needed someone for a job. Elijah Armas was the first to respond. He was twenty-four, charming, and his family owned a successful jewelry business. He had six older brothers, all who were lawyers or worked in the family business. Elijah's the black sheep that went on his own. His first bodyguard assignment was to protect an up and coming female pop singer. After leaving one of her concerts, a jealous fan pulled a gun and fired three shots. Elijah not only shielded his client and took all three bullets, but he disarmed and beat the crap out of the fan.

Elijah had surgery and was back on the job two months later.

His asking price was $100,000 a year. Court still had most of the million from what the Maynard's paid her. She sent Elijah a check for the entire year's salary. In addition, Court was finally able to convince her sister to keep the $50,000 and put it in savings. As for the bodyguard idea, Maxine agreed right away, especially with Kristy's name coming up in connection to burning bodies. Furthermore, Kristy's still in danger while Judith Stone was on the loose.

Court noticed an attractive looking woman slip Jon a business card. Most likely, she's hoping to meet Jon later in his hotel room. Court knew this happened to him all the time. He's rich, good looking, and talented. His books aroused women. Court wasn't jealous because at the end of the day, she had Jon all to herself.

"I need to get going," Court said to Jon as he signed another book. "Kendrick will be arriving in about a half-hour.

The woman who had been getting her book signed gave Court a snotty look. "Do you mind?" she asked. "I've been waiting three hours to meet him."

Court leaned over and kissed Jon on the lips. She lingered for a moment, then said loud enough for the woman to hear, "I'll see you later. We'll do it on the bathroom sink."

"Sounds good," Jon said. "Be safe."

Court brushed up against the woman and knocked her off balance.

A reporter who had _Tension Magazine_ embroidered on his shirt, snapped a picture and asked her, "Are you dating Jon Truss?"

"No," she replied. "I'm just fucking him."

### 44

From a phone booth in Philadelphia, Ghoul made a call to Gibor Figgins. "I know the guy who kidnapped your girlfriend. He's staying with me."

"Bullshit," Gibor said. "Ever since I posted the information on Facebook, I've gotten hundreds of emails and calls from people who just want money."

"I'm not looking for money," Ghoul said in a calm voice. "In fact, I don't want anything, especially my name mentioned. If the police discover that I'm hiding a kidnapper at my place, I'll go to jail for breaking parole."

"You and this guy spoke about what happened?"

"Yes."

"Then give me the details, so I know this isn't a bullshit call."

"He used his finger to play with your girlfriend's thigh and panties. Also, he put a tube inside her and sucked all the urine from her. He forced Hanna to kill Nester Grath with a screwdriver." Ghoul paused. "Do you want to know more?"

"No, that's plenty," Gibor said, his voice low. "What's Ghoul's real name?"

"I'm not going to tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because, if the police show up at my door, I'll know that you opened that fucking mouth of yours. However, if _you_ show up at my door, then I'll turn him over to you."

"Hanna told me that he's a big guy."

"And you're just a little dweeb."

Gibor was silent for a long moment. "I'm not afraid, it's just that-"

"Sure you are afraid," Ghoul said. "Tell you what. I'll have him strapped to a bed, just like he did to your little honey. Then you can do whatever you want to him. Bring Hanna along, because I'm sure she wants to get some revenge as well."

"Why would you help us?"

"None of your fucking business! Also, since you can't keep your mouth shut, I'm not telling you anymore than you need to know."

"Where should we go?"

Ghoul gave directions to a Philadelphia address. "You have six hours. If anyone but you or Hanna shows up in my neighborhood, I'll let him escape. Then, not only will he be after you, but so will I."

"You'll have him tied up when we get there?"

"Don't worry. Everything will be all set when you arrive."

~

Three hours later, Gibor and Hanna showed up. A note on the door told them to come inside and walk down to the basement. They were only eighteen-years-old, but Ghoul thought they should have had a little common sense. These two idiots made a deal with an unknown caller, traveled to his house, and actually walked into the basement. Anyone that dim-witted deserves to die.

The owner of the home, Mario Longshore, was eighty. He was cut up into pieces and placed inside the washer. Ghoul felt bad for Mario, who lived a simple life. The house was filled with old books, pictures of his deceased wife, three children, and twelve grandchildren. Mario didn't deserve to die. A simple explanation is that our end of days is based on personal actions and fate.

All of us have a future appointment with death.

The shock on Hanna's face when Ghoul pointed the gun at her was rewarding. Her eyes glazed with fear, hands shook, and sweat drizzled off her large forehead. It took Gibor a few seconds to comprehend they had been setup. Then, as if they accepted the impending doom, their faces crumbled with defeat.

Ghoul strapped them both down on the floor with their arms chained above their heads to a rusted pole. He collected the old books from the house and tossed them randomly around the basement. Next, he pulled out the screwdriver that he took from Mario's toolbox and showed it to his quivering victims.

"Hanna," Ghoul said. "You just couldn't keep your big mouth closed. What a shame."

"Gibor was the only one I told. Please-"

"Shut up," he said, now looking at the boy. "Who did you tell about coming here?"

"No one," Gibor replied. "I swear to God, we didn't tell anyone."

"Well, I suppose that's a believable statement. In spite of this, neither of you seem very trustworthy."

Hanna lifted her knees and pushed herself up, so she was leaning against the pole. "We can pay you."

Ghoul cocked his head. "Really? How much is your life worth?"

"I have $120,000 in a checking account. Plus, I can withdrawal $10,000 in cash from my credit card."

Gibor stayed flat on the floor, but also raised his knees. "I have just under $200,000."

Ghoul squeezed his lips together and waved the screwdriver back and forth. "I just don't understand how you two were given that much money and yet you're about as responsible as third graders. Your parents really haven't raised you all that well. How can you ever understand what it's like to work for something?"

"Please," Hanna said. "That's $330,000 to let us go. It's a lot of money for someone like you."

Ghoul laughed. "You're treating me like I'm some hungry slave. I don't care about money. I'm morbidly obsessed with death." Ghoul squatted down. "I'll let one of you go, on these conditions. First, you watch the other one die. Second, you say that Kristy Blackwell was the killer." He wandered his eyes back and forth, looking at them both. "Well, do we have a deal?"

"No," Hanna said. Tears rimmed under her eyes. "Let us both go, or kill us both."

"That's very brave. I agree to your terms." Ghoul lifted Gibor's shirt and drove the screwdriver forward. The skin didn't break at first, but once it did, a puddle of dark blood drained from his body.

Gibor let out a deafening scream. "Mommy! Mommy!"

Ghoul twisted the screwdriver and opened the wound. "Odd person to yell for," he said. "But you seem like a momma's boy." His gaze fell on Hanna. "And who will you scream for help? Daddy? Mommy?"

"Fuck you," Hanna shouted. "I'll haunt you the rest of your life!"

"Whatever gets you through these next few moments," Ghoul replied. He lifted her shirt and pressed the bloody screwdriver into her stomach. With both hands he shoved it inside on her blubbery skin. She fell back to the floor, hands above her, screeching so hard it pierced Ghoul's eardrums. Her voice traveled into his mind and even writhed into his heart.

Ghoul gave the screwdriver one big twist and peeled the skin back. A river of blood flowed from her body to the floor, mixing with Gibor's blood. They both cried, but more of a whimper than a squeal of pain.

As they squirmed, Ghoul walked across the basement to retrieve the gas can he brought down from the garage. It was only a quarter filled, but that would be enough. He poured the gas in Hanna's and Gibor's wounds, resulting in both of them letting out an earsplitting shriek. Ghoul lit two matches and dropped one in each bloody opening. He was disappointed that a brief spark glowed, then the fire when out.

Gibor's eyes closed. His voice become silent, yet his chest continued to rise and fall. Hanna continued with her shriek, fighting the chains in attempt to escape.

Ghoul poured the remaining contents of the gasoline on the old books and lit them on fire. The basement became an inferno within a few seconds. Ghoul jogged upstairs, hearing the voice of Hanna's ghostly plea for help. He left the house and calmly walked to the nearest payphone.

"Kristy Blackwell made me do it," he said to the 911 operator. "And when you report this story, please refer to me as, Ghoul."

### 45

As Court arrived, she saw the massive crowd of protestors outside the abortion clinic. They waved hate signs and chanted in unison, "Baby killer! Baby killer!"

Attempting to keep the crowd behind a makeshift metal barrier was a team of bodyguards dressed in all black with bulletproof vests. Near them were fifty New York police officers all in riot gear. About twenty-feet from the building's entrance was a limo. Court recognized Kendrick's personal bodyguards.

She made her way through the belligerent mob to the limousine. One of the bodyguard's gave Court a nervous grin and opened the door. "This should be fun," he whispered as she climbed inside.

"Nice of you to join us," Kendrick said. He slipped on a thin bulletproof vest and covered it with a button down shirt and sports coat. "How much longer do I have to sit in here?"

Tyler handed Court an earpiece. "We're just waiting for our team to secure the area," he said, not looking at Kendrick. "Once we're sure that you will be safe-"

"The area won't ever be secure," Kendrick snapped. "Let's just get this over with."

Tyler returned his attention to Court and handed her a check for $10,000. "We should be done in about three hours."

Court shoved the check in her jeans pocket and grabbed the bulletproof vest next to her on the seat. "It wasn't smart coming here in a limo. The people out there hate Kendrick for becoming rich off abortions. Showing up like this is just throwing insults in their face."

Kendrick poured himself a bourbon and drank the entire glass. "I remember the days when my employees referred to me as Mr. Maynard." He plopped the glass in the cup holder and glared at Court. "You're here to protect me, not give business advice."

"I'm trying to protect you. The extravagant entrance that you decided to make was too high profile, which is exactly why they hate you. You've managed to make the crowd even more outraged and that make things difficult on us."

Kendrick's cheeks burned hot. "Those fucking people out there would hate me no matter what." He leaned forward. "I'm surprised that you took the ten grand."

"Why?"

"We already gave you a million dollars to find my daughter. You didn't do shit to locate her."

"She came back alive before I could find her."

"And now she's gone again."

"I heard she ran away with Gibor."

Kendrick's eyes narrowed. "Why don't you use some of that million you took from us and find her, along with that idiot boyfriend of hers."

"Is that what you want me to do?"

He stared out the tinted windows. "Yes."

"Instead of throwing money at the problem, why don't you get control of your daughter?"

Kendrick spun his head around. "First you lecture me on what car to drive. Now you're giving me family advice." He cocked his head. "I got an idea. Why don't you shut the fuck up and concentrate on this job."

Tyler put his hand up. "Okay. I think we're about ready to get out of this limo."

Court leaned forward so she and Kendrick were face-to-face. "Everything I'm saying _is_ for your protection. You, Pricilla, and Hanna need to understand that Tyler can only do so much to keep you safe. Your family has to make an effort. I told Hanna a thousand times not to do the same thing every night. She didn't listen. That's how the kidnapper was able to succeed in abducting her. Hanna was on the phone, walking around the pool, in her same nightly routine. Hanna thinks she can do whatever she wants and someone will just protect her." Court leaned back. "You aren't any better."

"Fuck you!" Kendrick shouted. "Keep your mouth shut until I'm on the plane heading back home."

"No problem," Court said with a grin.

Her earpiece chirped. Outside, one of the bodyguards said, "It's now or never. Let's get this going."

Tyler looked out each window. "Okay, sir. I'll go exit first and you stay by me no matter what. Court will be on your six."

Kendrick glared at Tyler. "What the hell does that mean?"

"She'll be right behind you." Tyler opened the door.

The crowd erupted as if the devil had just arrived to steal their souls. Then on cue, the mob continued their chant, "Baby killer! Baby killer!"

Tyler shouted, "Let's keep it moving."

What happened next was an incident that lasted for only six seconds, but it played in Court's mind with slow motion snapshots. A man pulled a handgun from his windbreaker and pointed it at them. Court grabbed Kendrick by the shoulder and spun his body, as she placed herself between the gunman and her client. The shots rang off, one after another, echoing through the screaming crowd.

Two bullets hit her vest as Tyler tackled both her and Kendrick, sending them down to the pavement.

More shots fired from different directions as if a hundred guns went off.

Court placed her hands over Kendrick's head and Tyler squirmed on top of her. He grunted and whispered in her ear. "Stay down."

She could hardly take a breath. The bullets had not gone through the vest, but the impact either broke or bruised her ribs. The weight from Tyler's body made breathing even more difficult.

In her earpiece, one of the bodyguards said, "Police killed the assailant."

Tyler shifted away from Court and crawled to the pavement. "Are either of you hit?" he asked, his voice wheezing.

Court rolled off Kendrick and fell next to Tyler. "I took a couple in the vest. Kendrick is fine. How about you?"

"One in the vest, one in the ankle, one in my wrist."

Court sat up and examined Tyler. A stream of blood ran from the areas that he mentioned. She clicked her mike. "Tyler's been hit! Get an ambulance!"

Kendrick was lifted up by two of his personal bodyguards and taken back to the limo.

Tyler lay still, staring up at the sky. "Well, we almost made it halfway to the door," he said, then let out a painful laugh. "Maybe next time we'll make it all the way."

Court rubbed his burning head. "Just hang in there." She held his wrist with one hand and the ankle with the other to stop the bleeding. A distant siren grew stronger. "The ambulance is almost here. Don't you die on me!"

Tyler smiled as sweat poured down his face. "I'm not going to die because a scumbag open fired on another scumbag. That wouldn't be a heroic ending to my life."

She squeezed the wounds, trying her best to prevent the blood from sprouting. "I agree. Dying like that would be pathetic, so hold on."

Paramedics arrived and knelt down. Tyler rolled his head to the side and said to Court, "Thank God you were here today."

### 46

The phone call to Seth was simple and only took a couple seconds, "Confessional, right now."

That meant he was to meet Kristy in the backyard. A six-foot fence separated their properties, but there was a hole about the size of silver dollar. This is where Kristy would talk to Seth about boys, school, friends, her mother, and things that she hoped to accomplish in life. Kristy needed a male role model to help guide her and Seth had always been available for their chats.

Kristy nicknamed their discussions, "Confessional," because she poured her heart out to him, but they couldn't see each other unless one of them looked through the hole.

Seth was hesitant about doing this today, because Maxine wanted all contact with him and Kristy to stop. Even Alyssa and Kristy were forbidden to speak to each other. Brandi disagreed, but respected Maxine's wishes.

As Seth made his way to the confessional seat in the yard, he saw Kristy walk out the back door to the deck. With her was a young man, dark skinned, with black curly hair that was neatly trimmed. He wore round shades, dressed in a dark brown T-shirt and jeans. A Glock was fastened to his belt, along with a Taser and pepper spray. As they walked off the deck, Seth couldn't see them behind the fence.

Seth plopped down on the grass near the hole, which was his normal custom. He could hear Kristy breathing on the other side. "Who's the guy?"

"His name is Elijah. My Aunt Court hired him."

"Hired?"

"Yeah, he's a bodyguard."

"Is he nice?"

"He taught me how to play chess and he likes video games."

It made sense that Kristy has a bodyguard. The police still patrolled near the house, but that wasn't 24/7. Seth contemplated about the FBI. They obviously didn't believe their story, but have kept quiet ever since.

"How are things?" he asked. Seth wanted Kristy to tell him the reason for this visit before Maxine caught them talking.

"Did you hear what happened in Philadelphia?"

"Yes. Three more people were killed. Two were burned alive."

"And the killer claimed that I made him do it."

Seth leaned against the fence. "It's impossible to understand why this is happening."

"And yet, you predicted everything."

"I envisioned _you_ becoming a serial killer."

"Someone is still murdering others in my name."

"It's hard to know what to believe."

"God wanted you to save those people. That's why you had those visions."

"And yet...here we are."

"God has granted you the wisdom to end the suffering."

"I tried taking you and that didn't work."

"You were supposed to kill me. No one could use my name to murder others if I was dead."

Seth closed his eyes for a moment. He knew deep down the answers, but fought the reality with every piece of strength he had remaining. "We should just let the FBI handle this."

"Meanwhile, Ghoul is still out there. Also, your sister wants me dead." Kristy paused. "The reason I stuck by you is that I believed in your visions. If I believe in you, then I must believe in Judith."

"What are you saying?"

Kristy sighed. "You should have killed me at that farm, like you originally planned. Or, you should have let your sister do it."

"I don't think that would've solved anything. Ghoul may continue to murder people. Killing you won't stop him."

"At least I wouldn't know about it," Kristy said, her voice trailing off with sobs. "If I was dead, then I wouldn't have to hear about people being murdered because of some sick bastard using my name. It feels like I'm the one doing it."

Everything that Seth had dreamed became a reality. His father warned him to take these visions seriously and sacrifice his life so others may be saved. Seth had failed.

Not only that, but he prevented his sister from ending this horror. His brother, Judas, could be waiting for a chance to murder Kristy as well.

"I don't know what to do." Seth rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe it came down to having the courage to carry out my family's mission, but that time has come and gone."

"I could kill myself."

Seth looked through the hole. "Please don't talk like that."

"What future would I have if more people are tormented and killed? How much more suffering has to take place because of me?"

Seth stood up. "Ghoul is the one killing, not you."

"Answer this simple question. Do you think he will stop if I were dead?"

Seth covered his eyes and pushed back the tears. The answer was clear as it had been two days ago, two months ago, and two years ago. Kristy wasn't a serial killer, but for some reason, she was involved. It may have not been her fault. She might not even know who Ghoul is or ever met him. That was all irrelevant.

"To be honest, I truly believe there is only way to stop your suffering and save the lives of hundreds of people."

"I must be killed."

Seth continued to press his fingers into his tearful eyes. "Yes...you must be killed in order for this to end."

### 47

Jon showed up to the hospital room just as Court signed her release papers from a wheelchair. The nurse gave Jon a double-take, smiled, and left the room. The bodyguards Gary and Rodney were in the hallway.

Jon kissed Court on the lips, rubbed the top of her frizzy red hair, and kissed her again. "How's it going?"

"Deeply bruised ribs," she said with the paperwork on her lap. "No big deal."

He kneeled down next to her, eyes stern, yet thoughtful. "They give you something for the pain?"

She smiled. "Yes they did."

"Good." Jon looked away for a moment.

"I hope you don't feel sorry for me. It's the job."

"It's not that." Jon stood up and glanced in the hallway. Gary and Rodney had their backs to the door, neither saying a word.

"What's going on?"

"Three more people were killed by the so-called, Ghoul."

"Where?"

"Philly."

"How do they know it was Ghoul?"

"He called 911, just like before."

"Did he say anything else?"

Jon's eyes fell on Court. "He said that Kristy Blackwell made him do it."

"Jesus. This guy is a psycho."

"That's not all."

Court wheeled herself closer to him. "What?"

"Hanna Maynard was one of the victims. Her boyfriend, Gibor Figgins, was also there and murdered as well."

Court's lungs became painful as if all the air was sucked out of the room. "What the hell were they doing in Philadelphia?"

"According to the news, someone called Gibor on his cell phone. The call was untraceable. FBI believe Hanna and Gibor were lured to Philly. The guy who owned the home where they were killed was also murdered."

She smacked the arm of the wheelchair, still trying to catch her breath. "Gibor and his Facebook page cost them their lives."

"What do you mean?"

"Ghoul was obviously the one who kidnapped Hanna in Michigan. He let her go, on the condition that she keeps her mouth shut. Hanna told Gibor everything, then he became revengeful. Ghoul baited them somehow into that home and the rest is history."

"Why would Ghoul let Hanna go in the first place? Why didn't he kill her in Michigan?"

Court shook her head. "I have no idea." She reached out and grabbed Jon's hand. "What are you hearing about Paula Shay? Does she still claim that Kristy was the one who killed the congressman and his staff?"

"That's what I heard."

"I hope to God that the FBI doesn't believe that cockamamie story and they are looking for the real killer."

"I'm sure they are."

"Any news about Seth or Judith Stone?"

"Seth is back home. The FBI is still looking for Judith."

Court kissed Jon's hand and said, "Take me upstairs to room 407. I need to see if Tyler is okay, then we can go."

"No problem." Jon wheeled Court out of the room.

Rodney rubbed Court on the back. "Nice reflexes when that gunman tried to take out your client."

Gary walked next to her. "You took a couple bullets for that dickhead Kendrick. I know it was your job, but I'm not sure he was worth it."

Court snickered. "Kendrick is a dickhead, no doubt about that. Nonetheless, I'll bet you would've done the same."

Gary laughed. "True."

Jon wheeled her into the elevator as Gary and Rodney stood on each side. Jon placed his hands on Court's shoulders. "I'm glad I write thrillers. Can't imagine how hard it would be to protect me if I owned abortion clinics."

Rodney: "All we have to do is keep the hot looking mom's away from you, rather than angry protest mob's. I suppose our job isn't so bad."

Court: "There are still crazies out there that believe Jon's books are true. He has a cult following, so keep on your toes."

Jon leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Relax. I'm safe."

They arrived on the fourth floor, exited the elevator, and made their way to room 407. Jon wheeled Court next to the bed. He gave Tyler a thoughtful smile, then walked out of the room to wait with Rodney and Gary in the hallway.

Tyler's eyes were barely open. It took a few moments to realize that someone was at his bedside. "Hey Court. How's the ribs?"

"I'm sore, but thank God for painkillers."

"You did a good job."

She touched his hand. It was ice cold and clammy. "Please tell me that you quit the Maynard's. Kendrick isn't worth it."

"No, I was fired."

Court about jumped up from her wheelchair. "Are you kidding me?"

Tyler forced a sluggish grin. "Kendrick actually just called. Told me that I was incapable of doing my job and never wants to see me again. He sent all my stuff to a storage unit, along with $25,000 compensation for breaking our contract."

"Did he say anything else?" Court asked.

"No, that was pretty much it."

She debated on whether or not to tell him what happened. Tyler's skin seemed frail and a steady stream of sweat ran down his face. "There's news about Hanna and Gibor."

Tyler's eyes met with Court. "Let me guess," he said with another tired grin. "They went to Vegas, got married, and-"

"There dead," Court blurted out. "I just found out myself."

Tyler shifted his entire body toward her. "How?"

"Not sure the details yet, but according to the news, they were killed in a Philadelphia home. Maybe tortured and burned alive."

"Ghoul?"

"That's what the news claims, but of course, he blamed Kristy Blackwell."

Tyler stared at the ceiling. "That's probably the same guy who kidnapped her in Michigan."

"I'm thinking that as well." Court wheeled closer to his bed. "Hanna was given a second chance by this sick maniac and didn't take it, which pretty much sums up the Maynard's. So don't feel responsible for Hanna. Also, you saved Kendrick's life. He had no reason to fire you."

Tyler rolled his head to face her. " _We_ saved his life." He reached out and touched her cheek. "Your boyfriend is waiting. I'll talk to you later."

A tear escaped from Court's eye. "Where will you go?"

"You know how it is. Move onto the next job. I'll probably head to D.C. and hang out with everyone for a little while. Get back in shape."

She wiped the tear away. "You'll only find more scumbags to protect in Washington."

Tyler forced a smile. "Scumbags are the only ones that need us."

### 48

Seth drove their Dodge Caravan, with Brandi in the passengers seat and Alyssa in the back. Brandi hadn't said a word the entire trip. Alyssa listened to her iPod and doodled pictures in a pad of white drawing paper.

This was the second time they had visited Judas in Cassadaga, Florida. He owned the only hotel in town called, Mi Casa. Seth never understood a black man owning a Spanish named hotel, but Judas had always made impeccable business decisions.

Seth didn't want to bring along his family for this trip, but he couldn't leave them at home. He still pictured Alyssa being kidnapped by Moe Blackwell. The nightmare of his daughter taken by someone against her will continued to eat away at his heart.

To make matters worse, the racial threats had not stopped. There were daily phone calls about _niggers getting away with kidnapping white girls. Blacks were above the law. Even the FBI couldn't prosecute a nigger._

Their house and vehicle had been covered with eggs. Unspeakable words spray-painted on their driveway and garage. The only thing missing was the burning cross, which they expected to happen soon.

Brandi and Alyssa wouldn't have been safe alone. Seth needed to keep them close at all times. He had money stashed away from his father's life insurance policy. Seth hated not telling Brandi about the extra money. She had enough worries. Now it was clear that Seth would spend the rest of his life trying to protect his family, while finding a way to change Kristy's fate.

As for Judas, he bought the hotel soon after their father died. It had been a nice investment, especially since Cassadaga became a tourist attraction.

The hotel, along with the entire town, was believed to have ghosts that roamed in just about every building. People looking for a suspenseful and thrilling vacation would travel here, hoping to see these spirits; some good and some of them were evil. Anyone who was infatuated with death voyaged to Cassadaga.

They arrived at the hotel, stretched their legs in the parking lot, and went inside the lobby.

None of them spoke a word.

"Welcome to Mi Casa," the clerk said. He was sitting behind an old desk, papers scattered in front of him, wooded filing cabinets to his right and a metal tray with key numbers on his left. He stood up, becoming much taller than he appeared. He was young, wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt with a peace sign. His skin pale, yet recently burnt from the sun in random spots. "My name is Jock Overton." He shook hands with each of them.

"Jock?" Alyssa asked with heavy sarcasm.

Brandi lightly slapped Alyssa on the shoulder. "Be nice."

Jock waved off the minor insult. "It's okay. My real name is Jacob. I was an All-American in basketball. My friends started calling me Jock and the name stuck after graduation."

"Are you in college?" Seth asked, not interested in this story. He wanted to find his brother right away.

"Blew out my knee during the last practice of my senior year. Tore it up so bad, no college with any merit would commit to me. I looked for a job and ended up here." He smiled at Alyssa. "Are you interested in ghosts?"

She shook her head and inched closer to her mother. "No. We're here to visit with my uncle."

"Really? Who's your uncle? It's a small town, so I might know him."

Seth put his arm around Alyssa and said, "Actually, he owns this hotel. We're looking for Judas Stone."

Jock pointed at Seth. "Is Mr. Stone your brother?" He then pointed at Brandi. "Or your brother?"

Seth raised his hand. "Mine. Is he around?"

Jock slid a cell phone from his pocket and made a call. "Mr. Stone, your brother and his family are here to see you." He returned the cell to his pocket. "He's on his way down. Can I offer you anything to drink? We have sodas, coffee, or bottle waters."

Before they could answer, Judas yelled from the stairs, "Hey guys! Come on up."

"There he is," Seth shouted with excitement, as he led Brandi and Alyssa up the stairs. His brother was the opposite in shape and size. Judas was tall, thin, with a light goatee and studded diamond in his right ear. He wore a black sports coat and slacks, with a red shirt. Seth shook hands with him, but was tugged closer and gripped in a hug.

"Good to see you," Judas whispered in his ear. Before Seth could respond, Judas let go and hugged Brandi. "You look great."

"So do you," Brandi said. She kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks for having us."

Judas picked Alyssa off her feet and grappled her like a bear. "You're so big," he playfully said, shaking her back and forth.

Alyssa giggled and pretended to fight back. Seth wished that he could have made his daughter laugh or even his wife smile. Nevertheless, he was happy that Judas brought joy to their hearts, because they needed it.

Judas let go of Alyssa. "I'm going to speak with your father. Why don't you two lovely ladies change and go swimming. I'll have Jock bring you some lunch." He patted Seth on the arm. "Come into my office." As they walked down the creaky wooden hallway, Judas pulled a cell phone from his pocket. "Hey Jock. Make some turkey sandwiches, coleslaw, and fresh fruit. My sister-in-law and niece will be at the pool. I'll be in my office. Thanks." Judas returned the cell to his pocket and opened the door at the end of the hallway.

The office was dark with only one small window. An oversized oak desk dominated the room. There was a laptop and several manila folders neatly stacked next to it. By the window, were two chairs and a round table.

"How's business?" Seth asked as they both sat down.

"I'm fine. Let's talk about you."

"Okay," Seth responded. He didn't like coming to his older brother for help, but there wasn't any other option. Seth was desperate. "You heard about everything?"

"Of course. I also know that the FBI is looking for Judith." He narrowed his eyes. "You set her up."

Seth quickly became defensive. "She was going to kill that girl."

"Judith had the same vision as you. However, you had the best chance to murder a serial killer before she caused those people to be tortured and burned."

Seth didn't see how this conversation was going to get any better. "I couldn't go through with it. And since Judith was determined to murder Kristy, I wasn't left with any choice."

Judas raised an eyebrow. "Whose idea was it to blame Judith for the kidnapping?"

Seth's skin burned hot. "It was Kristy's."

"I thought so." Judas leaned back and glanced out the window. "I'm your brother and will help. What do you need?"

"We had to get away. Our family is in danger."

"You still have enough money from dad?"

"Plenty. It's just that I haven't told Brandi about it."

Judas glared at him. "You weren't supposed to get married. Dad was clear on why we were put on this earth. It's because of your wife and daughter that you didn't go through with killing that girl."

"No, that wasn't the reason. I didn't murder Kristy because it was wrong."

"And how many more people have to die before it becomes right?"

Seth smacked his big fist on the table, almost knocking it over. "I didn't come here to be judged. We just need a place to stay until I figure out what to do next."

Judas reached over and tapped his fingers on Seth's arm. "I'm sorry. Of course you can stay here. I've been traveling a lot, so I could use someone to watch over the hotel while I'm gone."

"Brandi and I can do that."

"What about your house?"

"We're going to sell it."

"I'll buy it for $50,000 over what you owe."

Seth's heart softened. He couldn't tell if his brother was being condescending or cooperative. "What will you do with it?"

"I'm buying up properties to rent. Take your time and find a place to live. Relax here as long as you want."

"Thanks," Seth replied, still unsure of his brother's intentions. "I need to ask you something, but it's delicate."

"Go ahead."

"Judith was seeing the same visions as me. So I was wondering, are you seeing Kristy Blackwell in your visions?"

"No. The person I see is a young boy who kills his basketball coach. Then he murders the coach's family; wife and five kids."

"Why?"

"He blames the coach for ruining his life. One day, he goes to the coach's house and murders everyone there."

"How did the coach ruin this boy's life?"

"The team's last practice of the year was their hardest. The boy injured his knee and ended all hopes for a scholarship."

Seth's chest tightened. "You're talking about Jock."

"Yes," Judas said. "That's what happens. The person we envision killing others, is drawn to us. It's a sign that what we're doing is right."

"You're going to kill that young boy?"

Judas's eyes became hard. "Yes. Just like you should have done with Kristy Blackwell."

Seth's gaze became vacant. He couldn't believe how determined his brother and sister were to kill someone else. He had the same visions that haunted him each day, but wasn't able to murder another human being, despite if it meant that other lives would be saved.

"Judith shot at me," Seth blurted out. "When I was in Ohio."

"What were you doing at the time?"

"Escaping with Kristy."

Judas shook his head. "Well, there you go. Our sister was trying to do what's right." He waited until Seth's eyes came into focus with him. "I'm sure Judith _wasn't_ trying to kill you. Remember, she was there to murder Kristy Blackwell."

Seth raised an eyebrow. "What do you think she'll do now?"  
"Who knows," Judas responded. He folded his hands and let out a deep sigh. "I suppose she'll look at you as an obstacle."

"You mean that there could be a moment when she _will_ be aiming for me."

Judas locked his eyes with Seth. "My only advice is that the next time Judith points a gun at Kristy, you stay out of the way."

### 49

When Jon and Court arrived at the hotel, they saw Kendrick crawl out of a limo. He waved for Court to come over.

"What does _he_ want?" Jon asked.

"No idea."

"Maybe he wants to thank you for saving his life."

Court winced. All she wanted to do was suck down a couple painkillers and fall asleep with Jon next to her. The last thing she wanted was to have a conversation with Kendrick Maynard.

"I'll meet you in the room," she said to Jon.

"Should I have Rodney stay with you?"

"No." She walked toward the limo. "I won't be long."

Kendrick moved to the side. "I just need a moment," he said, pointing to the open door.

Court had trouble bending over, but managed to climb inside. The pain in her ribs was horrific, worse than when she actually was shot. When she sat down on the leather seat and caught her breath, she said, "You fired Tyler. Why?"

Kendrick slammed the door shut. "He didn't do his job."

"You're sitting here because of him. Tyler's one of the best bodyguards around, not to mention he's loyal."

"Hanna is dead."

"Not because of Tyler. That was her fault. If the client does not take protection seriously, then there's nothing the bodyguard can do."

Kendrick's cheeks became a bright crimson. "Hanna wasn't a client, she was my daughter." A tear spilled from his eye. "My beautiful daughter." He covered his face and cried into his hands. "The autopsy showed that she was cut open and burned alive. That fucking monster tortured and killed my little girl!"

Court felt bad for Hanna, but not for Kendrick. He was a rich businessman who felt untouchable, despite his line of work. "Why am I here?"

Kendrick took a few moments to regain his composure. He wiped his face dry with the back of his hands and drew in a deep breath. "The monster who killed Hanna is the same one who murdered that congressman in Pittsburgh."

"Along with the congressman's staff," Court reminded him. It was typical of a rich person to think only of the other wealthy and not the people who supported them. "The killer calls himself, Ghoul. He also murdered that man in Cleveland. And don't forget, your daughter wasn't the only one tortured and killed in Philadelphia. So were Gibor and the man who owned the house."

Kendrick put his hand up. "I got the point."

"Do you?" she asked. "I don't think so. What am I doing here? Why am I speaking with you?"

"I have a job for you."

"No."

"I'm not talking about my protection. It's something else."

Court already guessed. "You want me to find Ghoul and kill him, right?"

"Yes."

"I'm not an assassin."

"I'll pay you a million up front and another million when the job is done."

Court opened the door. "Spend your money on therapy, not revenge."

"Get your ass back here!"

Court exited the limo and slammed the door shut in his face. Her ribs heated with pain. She turned and saw Rodney next to her. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Jon wanted me to stay with you."

They walked toward the hotel entrance. "Please tell me this place has a whirlpool."

Rodney smiled. "Jon has something nice planned for you tonight."

She glanced at him as they entered the lobby. "Does it have anything to do with getting rid of the pain in my ribs?"

"I believe it does," Rodney said. "This will be a night you won't forget."

### 50

Ghoul lured her from a crowed club that served ten-dollar cheeseburgers and had an indoor swimming pool. Tonya was about twenty-five, slim, with curly blonde hair. She wore a silver dress that barely covered her ass and six-inch heels.

After purchasing several drinks, Ghoul promised Tonya a modeling job. In return, she reached down his pants and squeezed his cock.

Of course, this was the type of club where women with silver dresses and blonde hair and rubbing others between the legs was common practice.

Ghoul purchased a bottle of one-hundred proof vodka and led the stumbling Tonya outside. The night air was cool, with a steady drizzle of rain.

"I'm really going to be a fashion model?" Tonya asked. "I've been trying for years and haven't gotten a chance." She latched onto his arm and kissed his neck. "You noticed me out of the millions of women in New York. I'll never forget this. I swear, I will make it up to you when I'm traveling all over the world, earning tons of money."

Ghoul couldn't wait to kill this idiot.

He twisted off the cap on the vodka bottle and took a swig. "Some people enjoy walking in the rain. Then again, some people just want to go through life without getting wet. Which are you?"

Tonya snatched the bottle from him and sucked down large gulps. She wiped her mouth and leaned toward his ear. "How about we fuck in the rain and you can make me wet?"

Ghoul pointed to an alley between two buildings. It was covered with garbage that scattered as the wind picked up. The rain sprayed the night sky, soaking their clothes to their skin.

A homeless man leaned up against a dumpster, drinking something that was wrapped in a paper bag. He had a Yankees baseball cap that was torn and caked with filth. His face masked with years of being on the streets.

Ghoul reached into his pocket and handed the destitute man a hundred dollar bill. "Here you go. Get yourself some good liquor."

The man grunted, took the money, and clutched it in his hand.

Tonya yanked on Ghoul's arm. "Let's go. He's disgusting."

"Turn around," Ghoul said. "Hold onto the dumpster while I fuck you from behind."

Tonya hesitated. "In front of him?"

"The poor guy could use an entertaining show."

She turned and lifted her skirt. Ghoul handed the homeless man the bottle of vodka. "Hold this for me." Ghoul then reached down and took a knife that he had secured by his calf. He used the knife to cut off her panties.

Tonya moaned. "Fuck the shit out of me."

"No problem," Ghoul said. He shoved the knife in her ass. Blood splattered with such velocity, it even reached the homeless man. Tonya's terrifying scream echoed into the New York streets.

Ghoul picked Tonya up and tossed her in the dumpster. He looked at the homeless man with fresh blood on his face. "My name is Kristy Blackwell."

"Kristy Blackwell," the homeless man repeated. He diverted his eyes away from Ghoul.

"Now get out of here," Ghoul said, taking his bottle of vodka back.

The man pushed away from the dumpster and wobbled down the alley, repeating to himself, "Kristy Blackwell. Kristy Blackwell."

Tonya's shriek bounced off the metal. Ghoul looked inside. She was rolling around in the garbage as blood continued to pour from her body. The silver dress had risen almost to her neck.

Ghoul picked up the torn panties and dropped them inside the dumpster. He then poured the remaining contents of Vodka over Tonya, mostly in her ragged blonde hair. Ghoul retrieved a matchbook from his pocket. He lit one match, then the entire matchbook and dropped it on top of her.

Tonya let out another scream, different from the first. This time, there was pure terror in her voice as if a demon had ripped open her skin. In seconds, the contents of the dumpster, including Tonya, were engulfed in flames.

The rain intensified, but couldn't save her. The alley was guarded by each building, witnessing a young woman burned alive.

With the empty bottle of vodka in hand, Ghoul made his way back out of the alley. The streets were busy. People saw the fire but kept moving. Possibly, someone even heard the screams.

However, this was New York.

Ten blocks away, Ghoul dropped the empty bottle of vodka in a trashcan. He breathed in the cool, wet air, and continued forward to his next destination.

Later that evening he watched the news, pleased at the coverage this murder received. The shooting of Kendrick Maynard had no longer taken the lead.

" _A homeless man, identified as Harry Millington, was covered with Tonya Birman's blood,_ " the reporter said. " _When questioned by police, Millington kept repeating the name...Kristy Blackwell. This may have connections to the same murders in Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Cleveland, and Livonia, Michigan. The serial killer, who refers to himself as Ghoul, remains at large. It is also unclear the connection Ghoul has to Kristy Blackwell. More importantly, why he continues to murder others and claims that she made him do it._ "

Ghoul clicked off the TV. For the first time he had no idea what city he would commit his next murder. It all depended on the Jon Truss book tour.

### 51

With Jon's help, Court undid the bandages on her ribs and then she slid into a hot bath.

"You want to join me?" she asked, tossing the bubbles back and forth with the tips of her fingers.

"Aren't your ribs sore?" he asked, already undressing.

"The pain killers have kicked in. I'm feeling great." She gave him a flirtatious smile. "Get that big hunk of meat in here."

Naked and already beginning to swell between his legs, Jon leaned over and gently kissed her lips. "I'll be right back." A few moments later he returned with several index cards in his hand. "I made up a sex game we can play."

"Nah," Court said. "I just want to make love. No games tonight."

"Come on. I swear you'll like what I have planned."

She dipped her head all they way in the hot water and came back up. Her red hair was drenched with sparkles of bubbles. "Go ahead."

Jon kneeled down and showed her the first card. "Guess what this means."

Court narrowed her eyes. "What language is that?"

"Italian."

The phrase was _vorresti sposarmi_. She had no idea what it meant. "Sorry, I don't have a clue."

"Too bad," Jon said with a seductive grin. He tossed the card away and reached his hand into the bathwater. For several minutes, he rubbed her right breast. Then he abruptly stopped. "Here's the next card."

Court formed a grin. "I like this game." The card said, _voulez-vousm/'epouser_. "Looks like French, but I don't know what it means."

Jon tossed the card and leaned forward. He glided his tongue along her lips, then flicked it inside her warm mouth. "Here's the next card. It's written in Portuguese."

_Queres casar comigo_.

Court's eyes met with his. "Does it mean, 'rub her thighs?'"

"Nope," he said. "But I'll be happy to do that." Jon flicked the card away and put his hand in the hot water. He rubbed both of her inner thighs and teased his fingers up to her warm spot. "Try this card."

_Te quieres casar conmigo_.

"It means, crawl on top of me," Court said, followed by a giggle.

"Nice try." With a gentle touch, Jon slid his fingers along her cheek, down her chin, to her breasts, stomach, legs, ankles, and toes. "Want to keep going?"

"Yes," Court said with a smile. "But I hope this ends up with you in the tub."

"Maybe." Jon showed her the next card. _Vil du gift dig med mig_. "This is a Danish phrase."

"I love you," Court said, her face becoming serious. "I truly love you."

"That's not what it means. Try this card." _Wil je met me trouwen_.

"I want you," she pleaded.

"Wrong again." Jon showed her the next card. _Werdest du mich heiratem_.

"Will you please make love to me," Court said, splashing bubbles at him.

"That was German, but you weren't even close."

"I'm not guessing anymore."

"You promised to play. This phrase is Norwegian." _Vil du gift deg med meg_.

"I only speak English." Court laughed. "Would you ever write foreign words in any of your books?"

"Hell no. I think authors who write other Languages in their stories should be taken behind their publishers building and get the shit kicked out of them."

"Well, unless you want the shit kicked out of you, tell me what these cards say, because I have no idea."

"It's the same phrase."

"Can you please tell me? I'm actually curious."

Jon leaned his head forward so they were just inches apart. "All the cards say, 'Will you marry me?'"

Court froze. Tears spilled from her eyes. She pressed her lips against his, reached behind his head, and pulled him into the tub. The water splashed on the walls and floor. She didn't let go. The pain in her ribs had completely gone away. The world did not exist. This moment was perfect and worth savoring for the rest of her life.

Jon held her close, touching her smooth skin. "Will you marry me?" he asked again.

Court pecked his lips. "You want my name to be Court Truss?"

He smiled. "Not many people use your full name. You aren't that type of person."

"So I can say goodbye to Courtney Egan?"

"If you feel like spending the rest of your life with me."

She rubbed the top of his wet hair. "Let me see. You are a successful author, passionate, trustworthy, and sexy as hell." Court touched his lips with the tips of her wet fingers. "And I love you. So yes, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

### 52

"Where's the hotel you're thinking of buying?" Jock asked as he and Judas walked down 55th street in New York City.

Judas had flown them to New York while his brother Seth watched over Mi Casa in Florida. Brandi and Alyssa were a big help cleaning the rooms and looking after the place. They just wanted to get their minds off the terrible events that had taken place over the last couple of weeks. Working at the hotel was a perfect distraction.

As for Judas, he wasn't going to let Jock become a future killer.

Seth didn't murder Kristy and now people are dying. Ghoul will continue killing until Kristy has been put into a grave.

Judas wondered where his sister had been. She didn't return home, because the Fed's would have arrested her on the spot. Maybe she would make another attempt on Kristy's life, which wouldn't be easy. Judas heard that Kristy's house was being watched by police, FBI, and she even had a personal bodyguard.

Jock cleared his throat, repeating the same question. "How much farther until we reach the hotel you're buying?"

"A couple more blocks," Judas replied. The sun had plummeted behind the surrounding buildings. Little did Jock know, he was just moments away from his life coming to an agonizing and tortuous end.

"Thanks for bringing me along," Jock said. "This will be a good experience for me."

"Sure it will." Judas pointed to an old building with a _For Sale_ sign on the front. "Here we are."

The building used to be a fleabag hotel, but was shut down because of illegal activity. Drug users and pushers, along with rapists, thieves, and criminals hiding from the law, called this place home. It was perfect for Jock's final resting place.

Jock looked up at the building. His expression became sour. "Are you sure about this?"

"Why not? It's cheap. I could sink about $500,000 in repairs. It will be worth a hundred times that in a year." Judas smiled. "And you can run the place."

Jock turned his head, eyes wide with anticipation. "Are you serious?"

"Sure. You've worked hard and deserve a chance." In truth, Jock was a horrible employee. Judas could have thrown a dart out the window and found someone better.

Nevertheless, he needed to keep Jock close.

The young, naive boy had hope in his eyes. "Do you have the key?"

Judas pointed to a side door that was cracked open, but secured with a chain. He'd done plenty of research on this place and even came here several times to scope it out. It was ideal for what he needed to do. "We're a half hour early. The realtor told me that the side door was open. He'll be here shortly."

As Jock walked with him through the alley to the door, he said, "That doesn't look open. There's a lock and chain. Are you sure it's all right?"

"Of course." Judas slipped through the opening, careful not to touch anything. He predicted that Jock would follow. After all, it was Jock's fate to die here.

The last time Judas was in this building, he hid a box cutter inside a crack in the wall. While Jock made his way inside, Judas grabbed the cutter and placed it in his back pocket.

"Are there any lights?" Jock asked, clearly nervous.

"On that back wall." Judas pointed to the other side of the room. There were stained mattresses, empty bottles, and garbage mixed with the smell of urine and dead animals.

"Give me your wallet," a deep voice said from behind.

Judas turned and saw a black woman dressed in a ragged top with a short skirt. He noticed an Adam's Apple and realized that it was a transvestite. Judas smiled confidently. "Where's your gun?"

"I don't have one." His red lipstick cracked as he/she spoke. "Neither do my friends."

Seven more transvestites appeared from the darkness, all looking the same. They could barely stand, but each held broken bottles and pieces of wood with nails sticking out.

Jock inched closer to him. "What are we going to do?"

Judas stepped toward red lipstick. "I'll make you a deal." Before red lipstick could answer, Judas had the box cutter pressed up against his/her throat, but didn't cut the skin. "I'll let you live and give you $1,000 right now to kill my friend."

"What?" Jock screamed.

Judas twisted the box cutter, slightly tearing the skin, followed by a spill of blood. "I'd say you have just a few seconds to decide, before my friend tries to escape."

"Judas, what you are doing?" Jock said, taking a step toward the door.

Red lipstick gave Jock a grin. "Do you have the money on you?"

"Of course."

"Then we have a deal."

Jock ran for the door, but was easily captured by the seven men/women dressed in skirts. Judas kept his eyes on red lipstick, holding the box cutter steady on his/her neck.

Jock gave one plea of mercy, but it fell on deaf ears. Judas heard the sounds of the nails and broken bottles puncturing Jock's skin. The brutal murder lasted about fifteen seconds. That's how fast a life can be taken away.

Judas reached in his pocket and handed red lipstick the wad of cash. "I believe there's $1,200 there. Make sure you get rid of the body."

"There are plenty of places to hide crackers in the building," red lipstick assured him.

Judas turned, walked around the bloody area, keeping his eyes on the door. He was pleased that he didn't have to kill Jock himself. A plane ticket and $1,200 was enough to take a man's life.

When he slid out the door, Judas took a deep breath. He could still smell the mixture of garbage and urine, but his obligation had now been relieved. No more visions would haunt him at night. No more images of an entire family being murdered by Jock.

Judas hurried away from the building and waited three blocks before he dropped the box cutter in a garbage can. He hailed down a cab. "To the airport."

Relief overtook his body. Judas didn't want to be a murderer, but was willing to sacrifice his life for this moment. Jock was nineteen and took his first trip to New York. If the day came when police would ask questions, Judas would claim he escorted Jock to the city. Jock wanted a different life and hoped to find a new dream in the Big Apple.

However, Jock was now being cut up and hidden between the walls of an abandon building.

As for Judas, he would be able to start a new life, without horrific visions.

### 53

" _Bullet to Bone, by Jon Truss, has been on the bestsellers list for eleven weeks and has been number one for the last six weeks._ "

In the men's room, Jon and Court were in a stall. Jon lifted Court in his arms. She straddled her legs around his waist. Jon's black slacks were around his ankles. Court's black skirt raised above her thighs, panties down to her calf.

The ceremony in the ballroom continued just a few feet way, as hundreds of guests from the publishing company attended, along with a few selected reporters and book reviewers. " _Jon Truss is quickly becoming one of the top authors in the world._ "

Court moaned, "We should get out there. I think..." Jon continued with the aggressive sex. She wrapped her arms around his back and kissed his cheek. "Never mind. Just keep fucking me."

Jon thrust deep inside of her, then grunted with a pulsating relief that overtook his entire body.

" _Jon Truss changed the way books are written. His fans are in the millions and already anticipating his next release._ "

He lowered Court down and grabbed a piece of toilet paper. "I need to get cleaned up. They're about to call me on stage."

Court snagged several tissues and wiped between her legs. She pulled up her panties and adjusted her skirt while Jon quickly dressed.

" _Jon Truss has just completed a highly successful book tour. Tonight, we celebrate his flourishing career._ "

Court opened the stall door. "You better get...Ahhhaa!"

A man was sitting on the bathroom sink. "Hey Court," he said with a cocky grin. "How's it going?"

It was Jon's agent, Mitch Greer. He had his hair slicked back and like always, wore a thousand dollar suit.

Jon washed his hands in the sink next to Mitch. "How long have you been here?"

"The entire time. It was like a Cinemax movie at three o'clock in the morning."

" _Now let me bring on stage, the bestselling author, Jon Truss!_ "

Mitch pointed to the door. "You'd better get going."

Jon hurried out of the bathroom.

Court checked herself in the mirror then walked out with Mitch. "Did you enjoy the show?"

He smiled. "Sadly, yes I did. How are things with you?"

"Couldn't be better."

"I saw that you took a couple bullets for that piece of crap, Kendrick Maynard. Between being shot for no reason and having sex in the men's room, I guess you like getting screwed."

Court smacked him on the arm. "Fuck...off."

They worked their way to the main room where Jon was on stage thanking all the people who helped him.

"Jon was born to be an author," Mitch said. "It was only six years ago he borrowed five hundred bucks from me to pay his electric bill and get some food. Now, he's worth millions."

"Jon knew how to handle being poor and he knows how to handle being famous. He's that kind of guy."

Mitch whispered, "I hear you two are getting married."

Court was surprised that Jon told his agent. Nevertheless, it didn't matter to her. "He wants to keep it quite for now. Once his horny female fans hear that Jon's off the market, he may not be as popular."

"He'll be just fine," Mitch assured her, then sniffed several times like a dog looking for dinner. "Do you smell that?"

"Smoke?" Court asked, looking around.

The fire alarms went off, followed by the sprinklers. Before she could think what to do, an explosion from somewhere in the building knocked her to the floor.

Mitch grabbed her arm and pulled her up. "Let's go!"

An angry hiss came from above, as if a hundred foot snake was on the roof. Another explosion ripped the ceiling apart and before anyone could get away, the walls ignited into flames.

The audience scattered, screaming in panic. There was nowhere to escape. Every exit covered with the inferno.

Court looked on the stage and saw that Jon was gone. Her eyes darted in every direction, but she couldn't see him. Most likely, Rodney and Gary forced Jon out of the room as soon as the threat appeared.

Mitch pointed to a door near the stage. "It looks like some people are getting out that way!"

Smoke filled the room and the temperature rose to the point it felt like they were already burning alive. Court went down to her knees and pulled Mitch with her. "We need to keep low!" She covered her mouth with one hand and used the other to keep her balance.

Another explosion. It was close enough that it shook the room like an earthquake.

Pieces of the ceiling began to fall on them. Support beams transformed into fireballs. People were being crushed as the inferno collapsed the building. The door seemed miles away. The fire had taken over without mercy. Hundreds of people pleaded for help, but escape was impossible.

Mitch took off his sports coat, wrapped his hands in it, and pushed a fiery beam off three people.

None of them moved.

Court looked at the door. They were about twenty feet away.

It might as well have been twenty miles, because flames shot through the opening.

Court lied on her stomach, breathing in the smoke, coughing to the point that she felt like she was going to lose consciousness.

"Court," Mitch yelled by her side. "We need to find another way out!"

His voice gradually disappeared.

### 54

Judith had been watching the house, even though she took a huge risk of being caught. Kristy had to die and it appeared that Seth didn't have the courage to do it himself. In fact, her brother took the family away. Judith saw them load the Dodge Caravan and leave.

The visions that Judith had seen have come true, with the exception that it wasn't Kristy who had become a serial killer. Instead, it was someone else who called himself, Ghoul.

It didn't matter who's doing the killing, because Kristy was still the cause of it all.

Judith had paid cash for a 2000 Toyota Echo, which ran like shit. Nevertheless, it got her to Jacksonville where she needed to be.

Another police cruiser passed by. They were watching the house closely. Perhaps the FBI was staked out in a neighborhood home as well. Were they looking for Ghoul or for her? Possibly both.

To make matters more difficult, Kristy had a personal bodyguard. He was young, but had qualified mannerisms.

Judith drove by the house again. She didn't want to stop, fearing that someone may notice her. An hour ago, there were only two dedicated news reporters waiting outside. Over the last half-hour, several more had arrived. Something must have happened that caused this sudden attention on Kristy's home.

Perhaps Ghoul had killed again.

Judith turned on the radio to the A.M. channel. After flicking around to several stations, she discovered that her instincts were correct. There was a massive fire during a party in New York for author Jon Truss. Thirty-four people were killed.

A 911 call came in shortly after. The radio station played the recording, per the instructions of the FBI. They were hoping that someone would recognize the voice. " _Kristy Blackwell made me do it. And why aren't people referring to me as Ghoul? I cannot be caught. I am a ghost, hiding in a place that terrifies you the most._ "

Judith took another lap around the block. Thirty-four more people were burned alive, because of Kristy. It was time to end this right now. Judith must sacrifice her life in order to save others. She failed in Ohio when Kristy escaped with Seth.

This time, Seth wasn't around to save her. On the seat next to Judith was the Magnum Pug she purchased for $300. It had a large rubber handle, which gave her a better grip. It had five shots, more than enough to kill that little bitch.

Judith parked a few houses down from Kristy. Even though it was night, the area was lit up with media lights and cameras as live reports began. The New York fire was being discussed, along with Kristy's name that had been mentioned again by Ghoul.

She slid out of the car and tucked the Magnum in her jeans. The first obstacle would be to make it to Kristy's house. Judith decided the best route would be to walk up her brother's driveway, go to the backyard, and hop over the fence.

After that, she would only have a small window of opportunity. There were too many people watching the house. Between the police, FBI, and media, someone would spot her.

Once Judith entered the house, she would have to be ready to fire at the first person she saw. It could be Kristy's mother or an FBI agent. Next, she would have to take out the bodyguard. Then, before Kristy escaped, or was saved by the police, Judith would kill the bitch.

Five shots. More than enough. Only one bullet had to reach Kristy's skull and this nightmare would be over. It would be a symbolic moment and revenge for Jon Truss... _Bullet to Bone_.

Judith would spend the rest of her life in prison, or maybe put to death. Nevertheless, this was what she's supposed to do. Seth was a coward.

She just wanted to make her father proud.

After taking in a few small mouthfuls of the humid air, Judith began walking toward Seth's home. Slow at first, then picking up the pace as she got closer.

The media stirred, as if alerted to her presence. Judith froze, her eyes darting in every direction. Had she been caught already?

Several black SUV's arrived in front of Kristy's home. Stepping out of the vehicles were men and women with U.S. Marshal's written on the back of their windbreakers.

Moments later, Kristy, her bodyguard, and mother, were all escorted from the home and into the SUV's. As if a wonderful magic trick had been executed, the little bitch would be able to disappear forever.

Judith turned and marched back to her car. There was only one thing left for her to do.

Kill her brother for letting Kristy get away.

### 55

It was flashes of nightmares.

Court remembered opening her eyes several times. She coughed up black mucus. It felt like her lungs had been swollen shut.

Someone carried her. She couldn't see who it was.

Her body was thrown on the grown, with sirens and painful screams filling the air. Court turned to the side and saw a row of people. Their skin crimson, with black tattoos left by the fire.

She gasped for air, but her lungs would not respond.

"Court!" someone yelled. "Come on Court! Stay with me!"

She felt a small breath of air go down her throat. Lips pressed against hers. A pair of hands pressed down on her chest.

Her eyes focused, but only for a transitory moment. It was Rodney, giving her CPR.

"Am I going to die?" Court whispered, but she blacked out again.

Time passed. She felt her stomach squeeze together with the force of someone punching her in the gut. Court realized that she was vomiting. A paramedic began working on her.

She was in the ambulance. A mask over her face. Her eyes rolled in both directions. Another person next to her, also being treated. Their face had an evil bluish tint. Moments later, the paramedic placed a sheet over their head.

Court let her eyes fall shut with the sound of seeping air going through her nose and mouth.

A pain in her left hand caused her to wake up. It was a needle. Another poke in her left arm. Blood went into a small vile.

She passed out again.

It could have been hours or just minutes. She was lying on a hard surface. It was uncomfortable. Laborious.

"We are just taking a few chest x-rays," someone assured her. "Your red blood cells look good. They are carrying enough oxygen and your white blood cells are fighting off any infections. We'll have to run more tests, but it looks like you are going to be okay."

Court closed her eyes.

"Can you hear me?" the voice asked. "Court, are you...." the voice faded.

Someone held her hand. The touch was gentle. Familiar. Court peeled her eyes open. A small hiss of air filtered into her nose. Her stomach swirled, making her nauseous. Her skull had a deep, excruciating throb. "Where am I?" Her voice weak. She swallowed and blinked her eyes into focus.

"Court?" a man asked.

She rolled her head to the side. It was Jon. He looked perfect. "You're okay?"

"Yes."

It took a few moments for her to speak again. "Did you get hurt? Burnt in the fire?"

"No, I'm fine." His eyes welled up with tears. "I had to shower and change, so you wouldn't have to smell the smoke on me. But I've been here ever since."

"How did you escape the building?"

The tears spilled over Jon's cheek, into his mouth. "Rodney and Gary sensed what was going on right away. They got me out." Jon lowered his head. His sobs were deep and sorrowful. "I begged them to let me save you. They wouldn't let go. They..."

Court squeezed his hand. "They did their job," she whispered.

Jon wiped his face. "Rodney came back in after you. Gary went after Mitch." Once again, Jon began to weep. He fought back his emotions, lips quivering, tears running freely from his eyes. "Rodney got you out, but Gary and Mitch..." He was crying hard now.

Court lifted his hand and held it close to her cheek. There was nothing to say right now. They lost two friends. Words would not matter.

### 56

"Where are you calling from?" Judas asked his sister.

"A prepaid phone."

"Where are you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I'll call you back from a different number in twenty minutes or so," Judas said, hanging up the cell. He located the nearest Target and bought a prepaid phone. Back in the car, he called his sister. "This is a safe line. Now tell me where you are."

"No."

"Why?"

"Just like Seth, you could be a coward."

"I killed Jock," he said with a sharp tone. "Seth is staying at the hotel with Brandi and Alyssa. I talked to him about what he'd done."

"You killed Jock?"

"Yes."

"Are the police looking for you?"

"No."

She sighed through the phone. "Seth gave me up to the Fed's."

"I know, he told me." Judas gripped the phone with one hand and the steering wheel with the other. "Did you shoot at him? Or were you aiming at the girl?"

"I..."

"Tell me the truth."

"Seth betrayed me! He ran away with that bitch and now people are dying!"

"Calm down or I won't talk to you." Judas waited until her breathing through the phone wasn't so heavy. "Are you going after Kristy?"

"I was about to kill her when the U.S. Marshal's showed up and took her away."

"That is a setback, but not the end."

"What do you mean?"

"Kristy Blackwell is the cause of too much bloodshed. She will eventually be stopped."

"How? Everyone is protecting her, even our own brother."

"Stop blaming Seth for everything that went wrong. You missed your chance to kill her. Kristy is alive because of you, not him."

"He escaped with her! What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"Next time, don't aim the gun at Seth." Judas paused, letting that statement sink in. "You should have fired at Kristy instead."

"I can't believe you're on his side," Judith whimpered. "I'm going to jail and no one cares. Even worse, I should be in prison for the murder of Kristy Blackwell. Instead, I'll be blamed for her kidnapping and it was Seth who did it."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I'm out of town right now. Come to the hotel and we can decide what to do as a family."

"I don't have a family. I don't have anyone."

"Judith, I love you. Not anymore than I love Seth and not any less."

"When will you be back in Cassadaga?"

"Tomorrow, maybe the next day. I have some business to take care of."

"Something more important than our lives?"

"I will help both you and Seth. Nothing is so bad that we can't fix it."

"Am I supposed to hide from the police forever?"

Judas rolled his eyes. "Have you heard of Ghoul?"

"Of course. He's the bastard killing in the name of Kristy."

"You and Seth can tell the police that Ghoul was the one that threatened your lives and forced you to take Kristy. He has threatened other people as well, in a similar way."

"Like who?"

"Jesus, do I have to explain everything? How about that slut Paula Shay who was fucking the congressman? Ghoul let her go, but she refuses to give a description. And that homeless guy in New York. He saw Ghoul, but won't describe him."

"Your plan is for Seth and me to claim that Ghoul forced us to take Kristy. He threatened that we better not say anything."

"Yes."

"But how do we explain what Seth and Kristy said to the FBI? They blamed everything on me."

"Of course, because they didn't know what else to do. Ghoul would have killed their family if they told the truth. It makes perfect sense, considering what Ghoul has done so far. Plus, I'm sure the Fed's thought Seth and Kristy were lying in the first place. You know our little brother. He can't lie worth a shit."

"But he'll have to lie again in order to pull off _this_ story."

"That will be his problem. After all, he's the one who let Kristy go. I'm more concerned about you right now."

Judith didn't say anything for several seconds. "Speaking of Kristy, the Fed's will question her again. She'll stick to the same story?"

"Of course she will. Kristy is a scared sixteen-year-old kid who doesn't know what to say."

Again, Judith considered this plan. "Okay, what do you want me to do?"

"I'll call Seth and tell him what's going on. Meanwhile, you turn yourself in."

"No!"

"Judith, you have to turn yourself in before they find you. Once they have arrested you, it will be hard to say you were innocent."

"Should I wait for Seth to agree?"

"He'll agree. I'm helping Seth right now and he'll do anything I tell him."

Judith heaved a sigh. "Okay, I'll do it."

"I love you," he said in a kind voice. "I'll do anything to protect you."

"I know," Judith whimpered. "Please tell me everything is going to be all right."

"It will be all right...trust me."

### 57

Three days after the New York fire, Jon, Court, and Rodney traveled to Vancouver, Canada to a place called, Poet's Cove, where Jon liked to clear his head before writing his next novel.

Staying at Poet's Cove had a different meaning this time. Jon was grieving the loss of Gary, who had been his bodyguard for the last two years. In addition, there were several people from the publishing company killed, including the president and Jon's editor; not to mention Mitch, who had first believed in Jon and fought hard to get Jon several publishing deals.

Now, they were gone. People that Jon referred to as friends.

There were only six cabins at Poet's Cove. It was a place made for a few select guests; a dwelling of relaxation in order to rekindle that spirit deep inside all of us.

So far, it hadn't worked.

Jon hardly spoke. He went three days without reading or writing, which would be a first since he became a published author. He refused to have the fireplace lit, even though it was only forty degrees outside. Instead, Jon sat in a chair with a glass in his hand and a bottle of scotch next to him on the end table.

Court grabbed her coat and looked for Rodney. He was outside sitting on a large bolder, gazing at the scenery of trees and mountains. "A little cold, isn't it?" she asked, plopping down next to him.

"I'm tired. The cold air keeps me awake."

"How you holding up?"

He turned, looking at her with eyes that were swollen with exhaustion. "I can't protect him this way. We need to replace Gary."

"I know. Jon isn't ready." Court felt sorry for Rodney. He had stayed awake since the fire to make sure Jon was safe. "I can watch him during the day and you take the night shift."

"You know that won't work," Rodney said, his voice raspy and deep. "You're his fiancé. Can't protect someone you care about that much."

"Any suggestions?"

"How about Tyler? Is he ready to get back to work?"

"No. I called him this morning. He'll be another few months. The bullet that hit his ankle shattered the bone."

" _Just_ Ray is available."

"Is he in D.C.?"

"No. He got some gig in Oakland working as a bouncer in a club. He could be here in fifteen hours."

Court glanced back at the cabin. "Get him here. Jon will have to understand." She brought her attention back on Rodney. His large body and oversized muscles seemed frail. Even Rodney's black skin lost its color. "Thanks for saving my life."

"Sorry I didn't get you out with Jon."

She touched his shoulder. "You did your job. Jon comes first, always. That won't change, even when we're married."

He blew out a sigh. "Tough business we got ourselves into." He forced a tired grin. "I suppose you're finished with the bodyguard profession."

"Heck, I can't even protect myself these days."

He put his large hand on her back. "It's good you settled down. No need to take bullets for clients anymore."

Court stood up. "I'm going to talk to Jon. Try to get Just Ray here soon as possible."

"Sure thing," Rodney said, not moving. He continued gazing at the trees as the sun fell behind the mountains.

Court grabbed a couple logs on the way inside the cabin. She dumped them in the fireplace.

"What are you doing?" Jon asked. He hadn't moved in hours.

"Starting a fire. It could get down in the twenties tonight. Also we need to at least try and heal emotionally from what happened in New York."

Jon poured himself another drink. "I think my writing days are over."

She ignored his statement. "Rodney is going to call a friend of ours to replace Gary. His name is Ray, but everyone calls him Just Ray."

"I don't want a replacement for Gary."

"Of course you don't," she said, getting the fire started. "But Rodney needs time to rest while another bodyguard watches over you."

"I don't think you heard me. I'm done being an author. Tell Rodney he can leave whenever he wants."

Court stood up and marched toward Jon. She snatched away the bottle and his glass. "Writing is your life. It's what God put you on this planet to do. No one can tell a story like you can. Your books bring joy to others."

"I'm finished," he snapped. "If you can't understand that, then get the hell out."

She slapped him in the face. "Stop sulking! Gary died to save your life _and_ Mitch's life. You need to honor him instead of feeling sorry for yourself."

Jon didn't move. His cheek turned a bright crimson. "Even if I wanted to write, I couldn't. My mind is clogged. My heart feels like it's been ripped apart."

Court sat on his lap and kissed his cheek. "You wrote stories in the most difficult time of your life. You didn't have a penny to your name, yet you never gave up. I know you can do it."

He wrapped his arms around her. "I could have lost you in that fire." He buried his face in her chest. "I love you so much."

"We'll fight through this together. I promise that tomorrow it will be a little easier. Everyday, we can find ways to love each other and move on."

Jon leaned back. The tears appeared as if they froze on his skin. "Someone is after me. I think it's the same guy who kidnapped Hanna."

"You mean Ghoul?"

"Yes." Jon gripped her hand. "Think about the end of my tour schedule. Flint, Michigan. Then Chicago, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, and New York."

Court's body felt like it had floated away. She slid down on the floor and knelt next to Jon. "It's where Ghoul committed all those murders."

He touched Court's shoulder to get her attention. "And now we're here."

### RD 58

Seth told the story in the creepiest voice that he could muster up. "A large fog overtook Cassadaga, shaped like a tsunami wave." It was his turn to narrate a tale for the hotel guests. Twenty-four attended, along with Brandi and Alyssa. Cassadaga was known for ghosts walking the streets and down the hallways of the hotel. It's what attracted tourists. A tradition that Judas started was to tell ghost stories each night just when the sun went down.

The mood had been set, with plenty of candles and the lights turned off through the entire hotel. They met in the dinning room as Seth stood in front, also holding a candle as he spoke. "The wave of fog comes in many forms. First, it is filled with murk and shadows, dropping ghosts throughout the town. The second wave is thin and cuts through the building like a blade, but as an illusion. A few smaller waves are like scouts, preceding the last fog that glitters with dancing lights and sounds of bells."

"What are these waves of fog?" a young boy asked.

Seth moved with deliberate steps around the room as the candles created imposing shadows on the walls. "No one knows what the waves are. Possibly they are transports. Maybe the waves are ghosts themselves. All have a distinct smell. The first is like dead animals."

"Eeewwww...." the children groaned.

"The thin wave has an odor of melting steel. The smaller waves do not give off a scent, trying to hide their presence. And the final wave smells clean and untainted."

"What happens once these waves of fog pass through the town?" a guest asked.

"They capture some of the ghosts that do not belong, but leave behind new spirits in search of freedom." Seth looked around. "In this hotel, remains a ghost named Fredrick Bessire; a traveling salesman who sold crosses and other religious items. When the first wave of fog came through, a ghost named, Karolek Riobard, who killed Fredrick Bessire, had been trapped. It happened in just minutes. The final wave of fog captured Karolek and escorted him to hell. Fredrick remains here...walking the halls. You can sometimes smell the pipe he smokes, or hear the creaks on the floor."

"How was he killed?" a thirteen-year-old girl asked.

Seth couldn't tell the _real_ story, which was that Karolek tore Fredrick's eyeballs from the sockets and shoved them down Fredrick's mouth, forcing him to choke. The tale goes on that Fredrick could see his own death with his eyes lodged into his throat.

"No one knows for sure how Fredrick was killed," Seth claimed, keeping the story PG-13. "But legend has it that Karolek is searching for a way to return. Fredrick roams the halls at night, guarding the rooms. He will warn the guests if Karolek ever finds his way back." Seth blew out his candle. "Sleep well tonight."

The guests gave him a round of applause.

Seth, Brandi, and Alyssa cleaned up and went to their rooms. Brandi slept in the same room as Alyssa. Both were still terrified from the kidnapping and all that had happened, not to mention staying in a town full of ghosts. There were only two queen size beds, which meant, Seth had to sleep in the next room.

"How about a snack before turning in?" Brandi asked.

"Cookies and milk," Alyssa suggested.

Brandi hugged Seth and kissed him on the cheek. "How about you?"

"Any leftover meatloaf from dinner?"

"Really?"

"It was good. I'll take a sandwich with ketchup."

Brandi gave him another peck on the lips. "Fine." She turned to Alyssa. "Want to come help me?"

"Sure thing mom. I'm not ready for bed anyway, because of dad's ghost story. Although, going downstairs to a dark kitchen with knives doesn't sound all that great either."

Seth smiled and waited until they left before he went to the shower.

As he opened the bathroom door, a gun was pressed against his forehead. The pistol was small, with a thick rubber handle.

"Hey little brother," Judith said. "Glad to see me?"

Seth clenched his fists and remained still. "Kristy is gone. I heard the U.S. Marshal's took her."

"I know." Judith pecked the gun on his forehead. "I was there when it happened. Once again, that bitch escaped me. First time was because of you. Now the government is protecting her while people are being burned alive. Doesn't everyone understand that she is the real serial killer?"

Seth considered swiping at the gun. He wasn't sure if that would be a fatal mistake, ending with a bullet in his head. On the other hand, it could save his life. "Brandi and Alyssa will be back upstairs in a few minutes. I don't want them involved."

"Tell me something," Judith said, pressing the gun on his skull. "Why did you kidnap that bitch if you weren't going to kill her?"

"I...changed my mind."

"You lost your courage."

"It was wrong."

"And people are dying because of your decision, which you knew would happen."

"We aren't God."

"We aren't the devil either."

"It's not our choice who lives or dies."

"Our big brother disagrees with you."

A bead of sweat drizzled down Seth's forehead, past the barrel, and stinging his eye. "What are you talking about?"

"Judas murdered Jock so that innocent people were not killed."

His mouth fell open. "That's why he left town with Jock?"

"Are you surprised?"

Actually, Seth was surprised. Judas told him that he would be taking Jock to New York on a business deal. He was hoping to train Jock and show him a better life in attempt to avoid murdering him.

Obviously, Judas was lying.

Seth inched back, swallowing down his fear. "I'm your brother," he blurted out. A statement that sounded desperate. He wanted to find a way to subdue Judith, before his family returned.

"Did Judas call you and discuss the plan?"

Sweat flowed freely down his face. "What plan?"

"That's what I thought. Judas wanted me to turn myself in and you would lie for me, blaming the Kristy kidnapping on Ghoul." Judith twisted the pistol to the side, raising the handle so their eyes were locked. "You don't know anything about this?"

"No," he replied. His heart squeezed together and began thumping at such a rapid pace he felt it in his throat.

The hallway creaked.

Judith formed a grin that looked so evil, Seth didn't recognize his own sister. "Well, either my sister-in-law and niece are coming...or Fredrick Bessire needs to warn us that we are about to die."

### 59

After a long phone conversation with Mike Willis, Court found out that Kristy and Maxine were taken by U.S. Marshal's for their own protection. In addition, Mike wasn't too pleased that Court left the country, despite what had happened to her in New York.

She wanted Mike to understand the significance of Jon's tour and the murders that took place in the same cities. In contrast, Mike seemed convinced that Court was connected.

That pissed her off and she abruptly ended the conversation.

Poet's Cove had done its job, soothing their aches and rejuvenating their spirits. Jon still grieved over the loss of Gary, Mitch, and many others connected to him through the publisher. There were thirty-four funerals this morning. Jon couldn't choose which deserved his appearance, so he spent the day praying for their souls.

After dinner, Jon went to the bedroom. He wanted to be alone for a few hours. Court checked on him later, but stopped at the door when she heard a clicking sound.

Jon was writing.

She walked away, as a tear trickled from her eye. Jon was a bestselling author, even before he received that title. He could produce words that healed his mind and brought joy to him and others. Nothing could keep him from writing, not even death.

Court found Rodney at the kitchen table. Like always, he regained his appetite a few hours after dinner. His large frame needed the energy to keep up his strength and alertness. Right now, he was eating a plate of cold pasta and drinking a blue Gatorade.

She was about to sit down and keep him company when her cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hey there, Shirley Temple."

Court formed a grin, assuming it was one of her old bodyguard friends. "Who is this, so I can kick your ass," she said with a chuckle.

"It's Ghoul."

Court's heart twitched like it had been zapped with electric shock. "If this is a joke, I'm not laughing."

"Neither am I. People who are morbidly obsessed with death do not laugh."

Court put it on speaker and pointed to the cell. She whispered in Rodney's ear, "Ghoul."

He pushed himself up, standing close to her.

"What do you want?" Court asked.

"I'm coming for you," he whispered. "Right now."

Rodney pulled his Glock from the belt of his holster.

"You're coming for me?" she asked, attempting a courageous tone.

"Not just you. I want to kill the bodyguard and the author."

Court pointed to Jon's bedroom and whispered in Rodney's ear. "Let's go." They hurried inside with the cell phone and closed the door. Court put her finger over Jon's mouth, instructing him to be quiet. "How do you know where we are?" she asked.

"Does that really matter? It's a question that has no bearing on the next fifteen minutes. You should be asking yourself, 'How will Ghoul kill us?'"

Jon closed his laptop and stood up. Court reached down to her duffle bag, unzipped it, and retrieved her Glock. Rodney guided them to the corner of the room, away from the window. He forced Jon down on the floor and positioned himself in front. Court did the same. She pointed her gun at the door, while holding the cell phone. Rodney took aim at the window.

"Okay, so how are you going to kill us?" she asked.

"I'm going to drive to the cabin," the voice hissed. Headlights from an approaching vehicle briefly shined in the room. "Next, I'm going to cut the power off." The room went pitch black. "You can't stop me. I'm just a sliver of darkness that will creep through the walls." The front door opened. Rodney shifted his aim to the bedroom door. "I'm going to hang up," Ghoul said. "By the way, I didn't get my chance to burn you alive in New York, but I won't fail tonight. Your skin will melt. I will turn the bodyguard and author's bones to ash."

Court dropped the phone on the bed and used both hands to grip the handle of her Glock. "He comes through that door, shoot the motherfucker," she said to Rodney.

"No problem," Rodney said in a determined voice. "No one is going to die tonight, except that psychopath."

There were sounds of someone in the kitchen. Footsteps in the living room, then approaching the bedroom.

"Anyone here?" the voice shouted.

Court put her hand on Rodney's shoulder. "Wait."

Someone was at the door. "Hello?" the voice asked, followed by a quick knock.

The door opened.

Court blew out a sigh of relief. "Hold your fire," she said to Rodney. "It's Just Ray."

### 60

The video went viral on the Internet with over a million _hits_.

Judith pointed a gun at Brandi and Alyssa. Both their mouths had been tapped and hands bound. Seth was holding the video camera.

"Kristy Blackwell lives while others continue to die," Judith said. "I am willing to murder my own family to make this point. Hundred's of others will become victims of Ghoul. Protecting Kristy Blackwell will not stop it. Only her death will end this misery.

"Let me sweeten the pot. I have two million dollars that will be awarded to the first person who murders Kristy. If I'm killed or in prison when this happens, one of my brothers will deliver the cash to you. Detailed instructions are stated in my will.

"In four hours, I will kill my lovely sister-in-law if Kristy Blackwell is not dead. In five hours, I will kill my niece. And in six hours, I will kill my brother, Seth.

"I know what you're thinking. Why would killing my own family members solve this problem? It's because I care about the hundreds more that will die. Ghoul will not stop. Kristy Blackwell's death is the only solution.

"You may be also thinking that you will go to prison for killing Kristy Blackwell. How would two million dollars help if you are in jail? Well, you could be out in five to ten years with a good lawyer. Maybe your family needs the money? Either way, you will be paid two million." Judith looked at her watch. "In three hours and fifty-four minutes, Brandi Stone will be shot in the skull. If anyone wants to make some easy money, please hurry. More importantly, the U.S. Marshal's need to consider what I'm saying, or the next blood that spills will be on their hands."

The video ended.

~

"We got the source!" an FBI tech yelled. "The video was downloaded on a computer in Cassadaga, Florida." He handed Mike Willis the address. "It's a hotel, called, Mi Casa."

Mike flipped open his cell. "We have the location. Get everyone ready." As he closed the phone, another call came in. "Hello?"

"Hey Mike, it's Court."

"I'm busy."

"Ghoul is in Vancouver! At Poet's Cove!"

"We do not have Ghoul's identity. So I find it hard to believe he's there, unless you know who he is."

"I have no idea who Ghoul is, but he called me."

"I'm sure he did," Mike replied sarcastically. "You're a bodyguard. Capture him. Let me know how it all turns out." He hung up the phone. "I want our team rolling in three minutes!" he ordered. "Keep this quiet. I don't want the press to arrive at Cassadaga before we do. Find out who owns the hotel."

The FBI tech handed Mike another piece of paper. "Already did. You aren't going to believe this."

Mike read the note. "Judas Stone owns that hotel?"

"Yep," the tech said. "He is Judith's and Seth's older brother."

### 61

While Court spoke with Mike Willis, Rodney and Just Ray inspected the area. The lights popped back on, just as Mike hung up on her.

Just Ray walked in the living room and secured his weapon. He was short, stocky, Hispanic, with a thin mustache. Because he had been traveling, his face had thick stubble.

Ray was an amateur boxer in Brooklyn during the 90's. In 2001, he was hired to protect a wealthy family from Miami. It was one of those right-place-at-the-right-time jobs. The family purchased a club in New York and whenever Ray would walk in the door, people said, "It's Just Ray." That nicknamed followed him around ever since.

Rodney came in, eyes red from fatigue and sweat pouring down his face, despite it being cool outside. "What did your FBI friend say?"

"He's not my friend," Court replied, staring at her cell phone. "He told us to go ahead and capture Ghoul if he's here."

"Makes sense," Rodney laughed.

Ray sat down. "I don't get it. Was he watching the place or something, then when I arrived, he called?"

Rodney locked the front door. "He had to know Ray was coming. Which means, he was close when Court and I were talking outside."

"I'm going to check on Jon," she said. "Rodney, you better get some sleep. Ray will hold down the fort."

"Hey, I'm tired too," Ray said as Court walked out the door. He then yelled, "Traveled from Oakland to get here...Hello? Court?"

She opened the bedroom door and went inside. Jon was sitting on the bed with his laptop. "Sorry, you working?"

"Making notes for my next book. I was on page thirty-seven when you stormed in earlier."

"What's it called?"

"Not sure yet. How about, _Poet's Cove_?"

Court smiled and sat on the bed. She was relieved that Jon finally showed signs of recovering from the New York fire. Perhaps the shock treatment of Ghoul outside threatening them did the trick. " _Poet's Cove_ sound's like a romantic, pirate novel."

"I was kidding," he said, closing the laptop. "I was thinking about, _Dead Guardian_."

"Much better title." She snuggled next to him. "What's it about?"

"Everything that has been going on the last month."

"Really?"

"Sure. I know it's tragic, but it's better than the crap I write."

Court leaned close to him. "Jon...you sell 50,000 books a month. I think you might be a little hard on yourself."

"Maybe." He put his arm around her. "I suppose Rodney and Ray didn't catch Ghoul."

"No." She rubbed his stomach, resting her head on his chest. "Ghoul switched the breaker outside. So he's close."

"I have to come up with a better name for my villain in _Dead Guardian_. The name _Ghoul_ just doesn't sound right. It's like some medieval Dungeons & Dragon's game."

"Well since you're writing the story, tell me where to find him. Also, it would help to know what this maniac looks like."

"Remember when I said that you should have been killed off earlier in the story."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad that didn't happen. It would have ruined everything."

"That's nice of you to say."

Jon slid away and stood up. "I'm serious," he said, pacing. "You have become the main character. Everything revolves around you."

"I thought Kristy would be the main character."

Jon waved his finger, eyes lost in thought. "That is what's interesting about this story. Kristy, Seth, Hanna, Kendrick, and all these fires are the result of this horrifying plot. Ghoul is the cause, but he needs motivation."

"Motivation? From what?"

Jon stopped pacing and locked eyes with her. "Actually, _you_ are the motivation."

Court almost fell off the bed. "Me?"

"We talked about how you're connected to everything. That hasn't changed. Heck, even the FBI thinks you're guilty somehow."

She flew off the bed. "Do you think I'm guilty?"

"No. That would ruin the story. You're too good of a character."

Court smacked her hands together. "Gee...thanks."

"But I don't think Ghoul is doing this because of Kristy. That's to distract everyone from what he's really thinking."

She cleared her throat. "I'm the reason he's killing?"

"Sure, why not? Isn't that a great plot twist?"

Court narrowed her eyes. "Are you talking about your book or what's really going on, because I'm confused."

"Both," Jon said, pacing again. "Ghoul came here to Vancouver. He has been following you from city to city."

"No, he's been following _you_ ," Court said, feeling like she was defending herself. "Maybe he's some crazy fan."

"Nah. That would be cliché. I think he wants to punish you."

Court leaned up against the wall. "Ghoul may not like us being together. Is it possible that Ghoul is really one of your female stalkers?"

"I told you, it's not fan. However, it's someone who travels and has power."

"A big guy?"

"Not that kind of power. He has connections and the means to be anyplace at anytime."

"Okay, here's a great question. How can I catch this guy?"

Jon looked at her. "What do you mean?"

Court stood tall, waving her hands in the air. "I mean, can I stop Ghoul from killing more people?"

"Well, I haven't worked that out yet in my plot."

"Jon!" she yelled, letting out a frustrated chuckle. "I'm talking about real life."

He rubbed his chin. "Ghoul is cocky. Maybe even feels like he's a real type of ghost."

"Why?"

"He originally let Hanna go. He let Paula Shay go. He also let that homeless person go in New York. Ghoul really feels that he cannot be caught. People have seen him, but won't give a description to the Fed's, which makes him even more terrifying." Jon plopped back down on the bed and opened his laptop. "I need to write all this down before I forget."

Court wanted to bring Jon back to reality. This could have been his way to hide the pain he was feeling inside, but he needed to understand that they were all in _real_ danger. "What's going on with your publisher?"

Jon didn't look up. "I spoke with the vice president today. They might sell the company."

"How will that affect you?"

"I don't know."

"Aren't you nervous about what publisher you might end up with?"

"It's a crazy business. Nobody wants you one minute, then the next minute everybody wants you. It's a crap shoot."

"Are you going to get a new agent?"

Jon's face became hard, but he still didn't look at her. "Mitch was just buried. Do you mind if I wait a few weeks?"

Court slid back down on the bed and touched his arm. "I'm not trying to insult you, or make you angry. Maybe it's my fault, but it seems you're having a hard time right now understanding what is genuine and what is fiction."

Jon lifted his head and gazed at her. "Welcome to my world."

### 62

FBI Special Agent Mike Willis had his laptop open with a live feed to his staff in Washington, while flying in the private jet. On the other end was their top research analyst, Kendra Miller.

Kendra said, "We got a lead from a Fox News Reporter. Her name is Megan Reed, out of Jacksonville."

Mike didn't believe in leads. Most of them turned out to be nothing and a waste of his time. "Is it important enough to-"

"She has footage of Judith Stone and her vehicle."

"Upload that to me now."

"Megan wants to be mentioned and have the exclusive."

"Of course she does," Mike huffed. "Tell her I agree and get me that footage. We're running out of time."

"Yes sir. Hold on."

Mike stared at the screen. Kendra spoke on a cell phone and made some notes on a pad of paper. Seconds later she began typing, then clicked her mouse. "I'm enhancing the footage."

"Just send me what you got."

"Yes sir."

Kendra clicked her mouse several times. "On the way."

Mike's eyes never moved. He clicked _accept_ on the attachment and watched the bar move at a snails pace. 20% complete. 45%. 80%. 100%.

It was dark, with crowds of media blocking the view. He heard Megan say in the background, "Get a shot of those SUV's coming down the street." The camera turned and followed the black SUV's as they came to a halt in front of Kristy's home.

Mike clicked his mouse and reversed the footage, leaning close to the screen. He froze the video when Judith appeared. She was in front of Seth's house. To her right was an orange vehicle. However, most of it was blurred. "Kendra, you there?"

"Yes sir."

"Does that vehicle belong to Judith Stone?"

"We think so."

Mike leaned back. "You think so?"

"I got a team making calls to the neighbors. Also, I'm working on clearing up the image to get a better look."

"When you're finished, send it to me."

"Of course."

An agent tapped Mike on the shoulder. "We have a problem."

"What?"

"Media have already arrived on the scene at Cassadaga."

Mike looked up. "Are shitting me?"

"Also, the local police have stormed the hotel."

"Did we, or did we not tell them to stand down until we arrive?"

"We made it crystal clear to the Cassadaga Police to watch the hotel only. They claimed to understand."

"Who's the one in charge?"

"Sheriff Austin Kipp."

"Get him on the phone."

"Yes sir," the agent replied and sped off.

Kendra came back online. "Sir, we are 80% sure that Judith Stone was driving that vehicle. We still need to question a couple more neighbors, but-"

"Do we know what kind of vehicle it is, or are we looking for an orange car?"

"It's a 2000 Toyota Echo, license RFL079. We already put out the APB."

"Nice work," Mike said. He tore off this headset and used his cell to call Court.

"Mike, what a surprise. We're still trying to catch Ghoul, so you won't have to do your job."

"Did you hear what's going on?"

"We're in a cabin in Vancouver. The only thing we have right now are cell phones. No TV, no Internet-"

"Judith Stone kidnapped her brother Seth and his family. She put out a reward for the murder of your niece. Also, Judith will kill a member of the family if this isn't done." Mike glanced at his watch. "We have one hour and twenty-three minutes until Brandi Stone is dead. After that, Judith will kill her own niece and then her brother."

"Jesus. Is Kristy safe?"

"Of course."

"How much is the reward that Judith is offering?"

"Two million."

"Will any of the U.S. Marshal's give her up for that amount?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't ask that question."

"Sorry, it's just...What do you want from me? How can I help?"

"We are on our way to Cassadaga, Florida, where Judith made a video with her demands. Do you know anything that might assist us?"

"Like what?"

"Is there something that you haven't told me?"

"I'm not involved," Court snapped. "Although, I do have a theory, if you're willing to listen."

"Can this be a short theory?"

"Yes. Ghoul is killing people in the same cities where Jon Truss has been touring. You can match the dates of his book signings and the murders."

"Is it some crazy fan?"

"We don't know."

"What does this have to do with your niece?"

"It goes beyond just my niece. Hanna Maynard was taken by Ghoul as well."

"Allegedly. Ghoul also sent a list of sixty-four people he murdered over the last seven years. All were missing persons. Two of them have been found and their kidnapper caught. Which makes Ghoul's statements unreliable."

"Kristy was kidnapped the same night."

"By Judith Stone," Mike said, glancing at his watch. "Get to your point; we're going to land in a few minutes."

"Jon feels that Ghoul may be doing this to punish me. He thinks that Ghoul has connections and means to travel easily. The fact that Ghoul is using Kristy's name when he kills, gives me, Kristy, and Hanna a strong connection to say the least. Judith may be caught up in all this somehow. She feels the only way to stop Ghoul is to murder Kristy."

"Jon Truss the author came up with this theory?" Mike asked sarcastically. "Is this fact or fiction?"

"Not sure. You asked for a theory and I gave it to you."

"So if Judith believes that Ghoul is dead, then maybe she will release her brother and his family."

"Exactly."

"The problem then becomes, how do we catch Ghoul in the next hour?"

"Who says you have to catch him right now?"

Mike smiled. "We just have to make it look like we caught him."

"That's right."

"Got anyone in mind that can play the part of Ghoul?"

"I know _just_ the guy."

### 63

"You want me to do what?" Ray shouted.

The circumstances with Kristy, Seth, and his family were not funny. But at the moment with Just Ray, it was a tad bit comical. Court tried not to laugh. "The FBI needs you to be a serial killer until Judith releases her brother and the other hostages."

Jon was chuckling in the corner of the living room with Rodney. "This is so great," he said. "I have my next bestselling novel and then some."

Ray put his hands up. "What will my family and friends think? Can I tell them the truth?"

"Not yet," Court said. "When this is over."

"How long will that take?"

She looked at her watch. "Well, we have about twenty minutes before Judith kills her sister-in-law. It's now or never."

There was a pounding knock on the door. Rodney pulled the gun from his holster and opened the door with caution. "The camera crew is here," he said to Court.

"What?" Ray shouted. "Now?"

"Right now," Court said.

A cameraman handed Court and Rodney FBI jackets and a pair handcuffs. "You'll need these. We only have a few minutes."

Jon raised his hand. "Do I get to dress up?"

Court shook her head. "No. You are too recognizable."

"Damn."

Ray took a few steps back. "I haven't agreed to this yet," he pleaded. "I need a moment to think."

Rodney formed a grin as he slipped on the FBI windbreaker. "Actually, it would be better if you didn't agree. Then we can tackle you at gunpoint. That would make this look more authentic."

Jon raised his hand again. "Can we pretend that Ray is holding me hostage and is about to kill me. That would really help my career."

Court pointed to the bedroom. "Your career doesn't need help. Now go to your room so we can film this."

A woman marched in, her face lined with stress. "Which one of you is Court Egan?"

"I'm Court." They shook hands.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Kitty Reiber from WLMG, Vancouver News. We're on a tight schedule."

"How much time do we have?"

Kitty glanced at her watch. "Mike Willis informed me that we cannot go live. Instead, it must be tapped, sent to him for his approval, then sent to Megan Reed who is a Fox News reporter in Jacksonville." Kitty looked at her watch again. "That gives us twelve minutes before Judith shoots her first hostage."

Jon folded his hands. "I'm begging you. Please let me be involved. Do you now how much this video is going to be replayed on YouTube?"

"Bedroom!" Court yelled as if Jon was her seven-year-old son. Jon conceded defeat and pouted off. Court then addressed the group. "Okay, let's do this!"

Kitty hooked on a headpiece microphone and said, "We are a go in five...four...three..."

Ray put his hands up. "I'm not ready!"

"Two...one..." Kitty pointed at Ray. "Get him!"

Ray stepped back. "Please don't!"

"Roll camera!"

Court and Rodney rushed in with the Glock's pointed at Ray. "FBI! On the floor!"

"I didn't do anything!" Ray pleaded.

Rodney tackled him. Both bodies went flying into the coffee table, as they landed with a horrific crash.

Court pressed her gun on Ray's head. "Don't move or I'll shoot!"

Rodney pinned Ray down and handcuffed him.

Kitty said in the mike, "Okay, get a close shot of the Ghoul."

"I'm not the Ghoul!" Ray pleaded as Rodney and Court lifted him up.

"Sure you're not," Court replied.

The camera followed as the FBI agents dragged the serial killer from the cabin.

"And...cut!" Kitty said. "Okay, let's get this to Mike Willis! We're almost out of time!"

### 64

" _This is Megan Reed, from Fox News, bringing you a special report._ "

Judith turned the volume up on the TV. Behind Judith were Seth, Brandi, and Alyssa. The three of them were bound to chairs with tape over their mouth.

" _Just moments ago in Vancouver, Canada, FBI arrested Ray Gutierrez, also known as Ghoul, who was hiding at a cabin resort area in Poet's Cove._ " Judith watched the footage as a black male FBI agent tackled Ray to the floor, crashing into a table. A white female agent pointed her gun at Ray's head.

" _Ghoul is responsible for at least forty-five deaths, including those who died in the New York fire during author Jon Truss's celebration._ "

Ray was handcuffed and lifted to his feet, then dragged away. As Megan continued her dialogue, the entire arrest was replayed.

" _The taping of Ghoul's capture was given to us by WLMG Vancouver News._ "

Judith gazed at the screen, while digging her fingers into the rubber handle of her gun.

" _Ghoul may be responsible for sixty or more deaths that have occurred over the last seven years, but FBI are speculating that Ray Gutierrez fabricated those murders from the missing persons report and just began killing over the last month, starting with Nester Grath in Livonia, Michigan._ "

A live shot went to Megan Reed, dressed in a gray business suit and holding a microphone. " _Cassadaga Police have searched the Mi Casa hotel where Judith Stone abducted her brother, Seth Stone, and his wife Brandi, along with daughter Alyssa. This would be Alyssa's second kidnapping in under a week._ "

Judith dug her fingernails into the rubber of her gun.

" _FBI is still trying to find the location of Judith Stone and the hostages. It is believed that they are somewhere still in Florida, but FBI will not comment on their search at this time. To recap this late breaking news, Ray Gutierrez, also known as Ghoul, has been arrested in Vancouver, Canada._ "

Judith grabbed the remote, hit mute, and tossed the remote on the floor. She turned, staring at the three hostages. Their skin glistened with sweat. Brandi and Alyssa were trembling.

She marched to Seth and pressed the gun against his temple. "Ghoul has been captured. Do you think this means Kristy can no longer cause any harm?" Judith ripped off the tape from his mouth. "Well?"

Seth drew in a gasp of air as sweat poured down his face. "It's over."

"You really think so?" Judith twisted the gun, forming a red circle on his skull. "Maybe someone else will start killing now and use Kristy's name. How can we be sure? The only true way to keep people safe is to know that she's dead."

"Kill me and let my wife and daughter go," Seth urged. "This is between us."

"I want you to watch them die," Judith said. "Then you can understand what other families are going through when Kristy causes loved ones to burn."

"They caught the guy." Seth drew in another breath. "They will release Kristy from the U.S. Marshal's protection. Then you and I can finish this together. I'll help you kill her."

"You're lying."

Seth hardened his gaze, eyes looking up at Judith. "If it comes down to that little bitch and my family, then she's the one that has to die."

Judith cocked her head. "You chose her over your family before. How can I believe you?"

"It's my destiny," Seth declared. "I know that now. Before I came close, but I cannot live if more people are going to die. My family and others are at risk and we need to murder Kristy to end it right now."

"Let's say you're telling the truth." Judith moved the gun, creating about an inch of space between the barrel and his skull. "What should we do?"

Seth glanced at his wife and daughter. Their eyes frozen with fear, bodies still trembling. "Keep them tied up for now. Once we're a safe distance away, I'll call the Fed's and let them know their location."

Judith leaned down, her face right next to Seth. The gun held steady, just an inch away. "Swear to God that you're telling the truth."

"I swear to God," he said. "It's the only way. I know that in my heart."

Judith stood tall. "I believe you."

### 65

Sheriff Austin Kipp strolled out of the Mi Casa Hotel, dressed chaotically in his hunter green uniform, fingers resting on his worn leather belt, pants tucked into his boots.

As the media swarmed around, Mike's chest tightened with anger. Not only did the sheriff forget to rope off the hotel, but he shouldn't have been inside, per instructions given six hours ago.

Mike pushed his way through the crowd to Sheriff Kipp. "I want to speak with you inside."

The media shouted questions, but were held back by the other agents. A few of Kipp's men straggled out of the hotel, laughing about something. When they saw Mike, they became silent and continued walking by.

"I'm assuming you're Mike Willis from the FBI?" Kipp said. He had mix of southern drawl with Hispanic tones. The combination made it hard to understand him. His gray hair seeped from his Cassadaga Police ball cap, and skin looked as if it could slip from his bones.

Mike showed his credentials. "You were specifically told not to enter the building," he said, eyes right with Kipp as they stood in front of an old desk near the entryway. "The only reason you were notified is because we had to legally alert you to the circumstances. Otherwise, your involvement was to simply observe."

A black man with a small build and thin mustache jogged down the stairs. As he came closer, Mike noticed the diamond stud in his right ear. The man said, "I called the sheriff and gave him permission to enter the hotel."

Mike's chest continued to squeeze tight. "And you are?"

He held out his hand. "Judas Stone, owner of the hotel."

Mike greeted him. "Brother of Judith and Seth stone?"

"Correct."

Kipp cleared his throat. "When Judas called us in a panic, we had no choice but to enter." He stared at Mike. "We were here, you were not. People's lives were in danger."

Mike gawked at the sheriff. "Where are Judith, Seth, Brandi, and Alyssa?"

Kipp shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure. Judas recognized the room that the video was made. It was his office. Would you like to take a look?"

Mike curled in his lips. He glared at the reporters inching closer to the window. "Where are the guests of the hotel? Has anyone questioned them?"

"We cleared them out of the building. Once we determined things were safe, all of them checked out and left."

Mike's eyes came right with Kipp. "You let every witness pack up and leave without being questioned?"

"Oh no sir, we asked questions. Unfortunately, all of them were in the rooms sleeping, so we didn't find out much."

Mike rolled his eyes and looked at Judas. "Do you have any idea where your sister would go?"

"No."

"What about her car?"

"I think she drives a silver van." Judas paused, eyes lost in thought. "Nice job capturing Ghoul. The female FBI agent looked like someone I knew. I think she was a bodyguard."

"Where have you been?" Mike asked, ignoring the comment.

"Traveling on business. I just came back from New York."

"When was the last time you saw your brother and his family?"

"Three days ago."

"What about Judith?"

"I haven't seen her in years."

"Have you spoken to her?"

Judas paused, eyes wandering down. "Not really sure. It's been awhile."

Mike had seen that look before when he watched the video of Seth being questioned in Michigan. Their family was hiding something. Possibly Judas and Seth knew their sister had problems and were attempting to cover it up.

Mike walked out of the hotel into the sea of media. The questions from reporters became a ball of random noise. Cameras lit up the night and microphones shoved in his face.

Daniel Talley, a newer agent, approached Mike and whispered in his ear. "Need to show you something." He nonchalantly guided Mike across the street and cocked his head. "Look down there, about four houses away."

Other agents held the reporters back. Mike narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the darkness in the direction that Daniel was referring. At first, Mike didn't understand what he was supposed to be looking for. Then it hit him.

There was an orange car in the driveway. "Is that a Toyota?"

"I think so," Daniel said. "Do you want me to check the license plate?"

"No, not yet." Mike's eyes wandered around the area. "Too many reporters. If that's Judith, I don't want her warned that we are coming."

"Would she really drive one block away and hide?"

"That's the genius of it. She's assuming that we'll look all over Florida. Also, it makes sense. Judith would have a tough time with Seth, who is much bigger than her, not to mention Brandi and their daughter. Traveling would be difficult. Besides, Judith doesn't realize that we're looking for her car. Even the media hasn't been informed yet, only the police."

"We need a visual," Daniel suggested.

"I agree. You'll have to do it. There's too many eyes on me right now." Mike squinted, once again scanning the area. "Go to the left of the hotel, around the parking lot, and work your way behind those houses that are across the street. Get a confirmation on the license plate and report back to me. Do this quickly, but carefully."

"I'm on it," Daniel said. He walked away, not making eye contact with the media.

Mike saw Kipp at the doorway of the hotel, posing for more pictures. Mike waved him over. Kipp took his time, probably wanting the media to think he was in charge.

Mike whispered, "Do not look or turn your head, but I need to know who lives four houses down on my left?"

Kipp's eyes began to turn. "Over there?"

Mike leaned forward. "Yes, that would be my left. Don't look, just tell me."

"Ernie and Ava Hairston own that place."

"What kind of car do they drive?"

"They come down from Indiana every year in a motor home then rent a car."

"Are they here now?"

"No. They leave in April, come back in September."

"There's an orange car in their driveway. Do you know who it belongs too?" Kipp turned his head. Mike quickly smacked his chest. "Don't look."

Kipp grunted. "How can I tell you about the car if I don't look at it?"

"Does a housekeeper come by? Or do the Hairston's rent the place for the summer?"

"No, not that I'm aware."

Mike locked eyes with Kipp. "Walk back to the hotel and give the media some information."

"About what?"

Mike's chest squeezed like a balloon losing air. "Give them information about the kidnapping in the hotel."

Kipp's face lit up with pride. "Be happy to." He then jogged toward the crowd of media.

Daniel returned, catching his breath. He whispered to Mike, "It's a 2000 Toyota Echo, license RFL079."

Mike yelled to the other agents who were holding the media back. "Okay, we're out of here."

Daniel's eyebrows scrunched. "What are you doing?"

"Just get to the vehicles," Mike said through his teeth. When he entered the SUV, he clicked his radio. "We have a possible location of Judith Stone, four houses away from the hotel. I want this done quickly, before the media realizes what's going on. Team B, take the back. Team C, west side of the house. Team D, east side. Team A, with me to the front door. We are full breach upon arrival."

The four SUV's pulled up on the lawn as sixteen agents exited, bullet proof vests on, guns raised.

Mike hurried up the porch steps, raised his foot, and was about to kick the door.

Before he could do that...it opened.

### 66

"Judith saw the broadcast on television," Seth explained. He was in a small room, sitting at a table, with a glass of water in front of him, and FBI Agent Mike Willis across from him.

"What happened next?"

"Judith was debating if Ghoul's capture would end this misery."

"Misery?"

Seth's eyes and face were strained with fatigue. The room a blurry image, as if it wasn't real. His breathing heavy, voice soft. "Judith really believed that Kristy needed to die in order to save others. But when Ghoul was captured, she considered that maybe the killing would stop."

"And then?"

"I sensed that Judith wasn't going to let us go. In fact, she considered shooting Brandi. It was more to hurt me, than anything else."

"Why would Judith want to make you suffer?"

Seth realized that he slipped up. He was skirting the truth, but his mind functioned like a rusted chain on a bicycle. "Judith became paranoid. Not just with me, but paranoid of our brother Judas as well."

"Did Judith mention speaking to your brother?"

Seth knew that she had, but wondered why the FBI agent would ask. He decided that the safe thing to do was deny. "She didn't say anything."

"What was Judith's overall demeanor?"

"Angry. Hateful. Nervous. Anxious."

"Why were you two walking out the door?"

Seth wanted badly to take a sip of water, but he was afraid his hands would shake. It would be understandable for someone who had just been kidnapped, but Seth looked at it as a sign of guilt. No matter what, he was still guilty of things that the FBI didn't know about. It was possible that Brandi caved in the next room and told the truth. If that happened, then this conversation was just to show the jury that he's a compulsive liar and would do anything to save his neck.

In all fairness, that would be an accurate description.

"I convinced Judith that I was on her side. That we should leave. Kristy would be let go from the U.S. Marshal's because Ghoul was captured and we could murder Kristy together."

"Did you mean that?"

Seth shook his head. "Of course not."

"Why would the U.S. Marshal's free her, just because Ghoul had been arrested? Judith would still be out there."

"I was desperate to get Judith on my side, so she wouldn't hurt my family."

"But you left your wife and daughter behind. They were tied up with tape over their mouth."

"I told Judith that we should leave and then I'll call the FBI later to let them know Brandi and Alyssa's location. It was the only way I could separate Judith from them."

Mike leaned back. "What were you lying about in Michigan?"

"Excuse me?"

"You and Kristy had the same story, but you both were lying. She's sticking to that tale. What about you?"

Every muscle twitched in Seth's body. "I was afraid, just like now."

Mike leaned forward, eyes right with Seth. "And just like in Michigan, I think you are holding something back from me."

Seth glanced at the water, then looked at Mike. "I knew my sister had problems, so did my brother. Neither of us ever thought it would come to this."

Mike seemed to be satisfied with that answer. "Your wife and daughter are waiting outside." He stood and pointed to the glass of water. "Why don't you take a sip and calm your nerves. You've been looking at the water like it was a rattlesnake."

Seth waited until Mike left the room and took several large gulps. He placed the glass down, then thought about the gunshots that went off as they left the house. Out of the corner of his eye, Judith had raised her pistol just when she opened the door. Seth dove on the porch as FBI opened fired.

It took only seconds for them to kill his sister.

### 67

On the private jet heading to Raleigh, North Carolina, they watched the replay of Ray's capture. Shout's of laughter erupted each time they saw Rodney plow his massive body into Ray and smash down on the coffee table.

"Classic," Court said, unable to stop laughing. "He absolutely drilled Ray."

Ray wasn't so pleased. "My mother about had a heart attack when she saw the news. My two sisters came home from college because they were being harassed. On Facebook and Twitter, my friends posted how much they hated me."

Rodney smacked Ray on the back. "It bought enough time to free that family. You're a hero?"

"Then how come I feel like an outcast?"

"Everyone knows that you aren't Ghoul. It was all over the news this morning. You spoke to your family. They believe you."

"They are pissed that I did this," Ray muttered, the Hispanic accent a little stronger. "Half my friends still wonder if I tricked everyone and I'm really a serial killer."

Court smiled. "I'm surprised your friends didn't say something like, 'Oh, it's _Just_ Ray who is Ghoul. Makes sense.'" Everyone laughed again, while Court kept replaying the part when Rodney tackled him. She hit pause, going frame by frame, leading up to the horrific crash at the end. "Come here Ray and look at this. It's funny."

"Yeah, it's hilarious," he said, unbuckling. "I hate all of you."

Jon reached out and touched his arm. "Even me?"

"No. I like you," Ray replied, heading to the bathroom. "But I want a raise."

"You've been here fifteen hours," Jon said with a giggle. He leaned up and looked at the footage that Court was showing. "There is one thing that might dampen the mood." Court closed the laptop and spun in her chair. Rodney did the same, so they were all facing each other. Jon wrinkled his nose, eyes lost in thought. After a few moments of deliberation, he spoke in a shaky voice. "It's a fact that Ghoul was near our cabin and shut the power off. A little cliché for a book, but it happened."

Court shook her head. "Everything has to come back to your damn books."

"I'm a writer for crying out loud," Jon said. "Give me a break."

Rodney: "He's right though. Ghoul is taking risks. He released witnesses after those brutal murders. Gave Hanna Maynard every chance to live. And took a big gamble leaving the United States to harass us in Vancouver. This guy is a freak."

Court: "A brave freak."

Ray returned and joined the group. "I won't be mad anymore at you guys if you buy me a nice steak dinner when we get to North Carolina."

Jon: "While you are securing the property at my house, me, Court, and Rodney will head to the meat market and grocery store. We'll cook you the best damn dinner you ever had."

Rodney: "Do you want any tacos?"

Ray: "Don't be prejudice, asshole. Just because I'm Hispanic, doesn't mean I eat taco's everyday."

Rodney: "I wouldn't mind having ribs and steak. Heck, even some watermelon sounds good. I'm not offended."

Court: "This seems like it's all going to work out just fine having you two protect Jon," she chuckled. "Now can we be serious for a moment?" She looked at Jon. "Okay Mr. Author, what happens next?"

Jon: "Well, Judith has been killed off in the story, but I'd say her brothers Seth and Judas still have something to do with this plot."

Ray: "How so?"

Jon: "Seth is a main character because he was involved with Kristy's kidnapping. Seeing as he avoided being killed or going to prison, I'm saying there's more to come with him. Also, Seth went to his brother's hotel, which makes Judas an interesting side character."

Rodney: "Are you talking fact or fiction?"

Court: "It gets confusing. Just let him go."

Jon: "Hanna Maynard's kidnapping and murder all have to do with the storyline, along with Kristy's situation, and even our own circumstances. Everything is related."

Court: "And Jon thinks that I'm the true reason why Ghoul is doing this."

Ray: "Maybe Ghoul was abused as a child during a Shirley Temple re-run."

Court: "Fuck you."

Jon: "If I was writing the Ghoul character, I would make him the opposite of what the reader thinks he looks like."

Rodney: "How so?"

Jon: "He would be an average white male, a little geeky, yet attractive. He has a hobby that's exciting, but a job that is out of the ordinary."

Court: "What about intelligence? Is he psychopathic or very smart?"

Jon: "He's a little bit of both. In fact, the real power is his ability to control others with his mind. That would explain his confidence to let witnesses go. It would also explain how he can get those witnesses to fully believe that Kristy Blackwell is the true reason for his killing."

Court: "He's a hypnotist?"

Jon: "Sound's to dramatic. I would make him someone who has the ability to put suggestions in people's minds. Then, those people have trouble knowing what is true or untrue. Fact or fiction. Actual or made up. Reality or-"

Court: "Okay, we got it."

Rodney: "Maybe Judith was approached by Ghoul."

Ray: "You think?"

Rodney: "Hanna was kidnapped by Ghoul the same night Kristy was taken. From everything we know Judith was the kidnapper. Ghoul could have set that all up."

Court leaned forward. "Jesus, that makes sense."

Ray: "If Ghoul got to Judith, he may have done the same thing to Seth and Judas."

Court: "Exactly. Heck, for all we know, Ghoul could have put the power of suggestion into Kristy as well. No one is safe."

Rodney: "But what is the connection to Court? Why does Ghoul want to hurt her?"

Jon: "That's the beauty of a suspenseful story."

Court: "What does that mean?"

Jon formed a grin. "Turn the page and find out..."

~

"Like rivers that stop running and lakes that go dry, people die, never to rise." _Job 14:11_

~

" **Waking Suggestion"**

Impression is made on a person

A sensation is felt

An idea is considered

Emotions are changed

An illogical encounter becomes logical

The mind has the will to believe

There is an impulse to act

### 68

Ghoul put his cell phone on speaker. He dialed the number. His heart sputtered with anticipation.

Court answered the call. "Hello?"

Pricilla leaned forward, hands and feet duct tapped together, gasoline dripping down her naked body. "It's..." Her mouth shook.

"Who is this?"

Ghoul cocked his head, eyes locked on the victim. He glanced at Kendrick, who was next to Pricilla. Just like her, Kendrick's hands and feet were bound, gasoline drenched on his face, glistening his naked body. Next to them in the same condition was Tyler.

"It's...Pricilla."

"Hey. I'm glad you called. Listen, everything is going to be okay. Someday, Hanna's death-"

"Shut up!" Pricilla screamed. The flab in her stomach seemed to bulge. She had gone through years to keep her flaws hidden from the world. Now, her longtime bodyguard and some fucking monster got a free show. For some reason, Pricilla seemed to care more about her appearance than the loss of her family or impending death.

Ghoul picked up the can and splashed gasoline between her legs. He did the same to Kendrick and Tyler.

"What was that?" Court asked. "What's going on?"

"Kristy Blackwell tricked me...she fucking lured me here!"

"Are the U.S. Marshal's with you?"

"No."

Ghoul used his foot to push the cell away from Pricilla, past Kendrick, and positioned it in front of Tyler. With the tip of his shoe, Ghoul pointed to the phone.

Tyler cleared his throat. "Court...it's Tyler."

"What's wrong with Pricilla? Why are you with her? Did they hire you back?"

"Listen carefully. Kristy Blackwell is going to kill two of us right now. She wants you to choose who should live. Will it be me...Pricilla...or Kendrick?"

A long pause. "Does Ghoul have you? Is he in the room?"

"We're...on speaker," Tyler said with a sputtering voice. The gasoline stung his eyes as he glanced up at the monster. "You need to make a choice in the next minute, or all of us die."

"Jesus. Hold on."

Ghoul kneeled and stretched his arm out. On his wrist was a digital watch. He tapped on the glass. Tyler stared at it, already accepting that he was moments away from a gruesome and painful death. "Forty-two seconds," Ghoul whispered.

"Tyler, where are you?" Court asked.

Tyler looked at Ghoul. The monster shook his head yes.

"We are at Poet's Cove. Three cabins away from where you were staying."

"Why did you go there?"

Tyler gazed at the watch. "Twenty-nine seconds." He drew in a deep breath, but only smelled the fumes of gasoline. It burned through his nostrils and lungs. "Just say that you want Pricilla to live. Please, you only have twenty seconds to make a choice."

Sobs came through the phone. "Tyler, I can't!"

"Fourteen seconds and all of us are dead."

"No!"

"Court...it's the job."

"Ghoul! Let them go! I'm begging you!"

Tyler fixed his eyes on the watch, as fate ticked away. "Eight seconds."

"Please God, don't let this happen!"

"Four seconds."

"Ghoul! Save Pricilla!"

Ghoul lit a match and dropped it on Tyler's head. The burst of flames, his suffering, and the sound of skin burning, was louder than Ghoul could imagine. Sparks from Tyler's burning flesh bounced to Kendrick. In seconds, hell had covered their bodies, popping the eyeballs and searing the tissue.

Ghoul grabbed Pricilla by the hair and yanked her out of harms way. She screamed with sorrow and dread in her ragged voice.

Ghoul was pleased at the sound of Court on the phone, begging for mercy.

### 69

"No!" Court's eyes flared with insanity. She pounded on the seat with her fists; feeling trapped in the private jet. "Mother fucker! Mother fucker!" Tears poured down her cheeks, mixed with sweat. Her skin mottled with red patches. She buried her face in her hands. "Oh God! Stop him! Stop him!"

Jon wrapped his arms around her while looking at Ray. They heard everything. "Unzip my duffle bag," Jon said to Ray, "and look for the bottle of Ambien. Bring one to me." Ray hurried off while Jon rubbed the back of her sweltering head.

Rodney said, "I just got off the phone with Mike Willis. What Ghoul did is all over Vancouver news."

Jon glared at him. "Get a glass of water." Rodney did as he was told.

Court rocked back and forth, hands still over her face. She groaned with unrecognizable words. Both Ray and Rodney returned. Jon gently pushed Court back and took the pill from Ray.

"I don't want it." Her eyes were almost swollen shut. "Leave me alone."

Jon forced the pill in her mouth. "Take it. Please." He grabbed the glass of water from Rodney and held it to her quivering lips. "Drink."

Court took a large sip, swallowed the pill, and said, "The Maynard's fired Tyler. Why would he be with them? Why would he die for those bastard's?"

Jon hit the side button on the seat until it was lying flat. Rodney reached up in the overhead compartment and grabbed a pillow and blanket. Jon took the items from him. "Thanks," he said, placing the pillow under Court's head and covering her with the blanket. "Don't think. Lay here and let your mind drift to sleep." He kissed her wet face. "I'll be here if you need me." He looked at Ray. "Stay with her." Jon stood up and guided Rodney to the rear of the plane. Both spoke in a low voice. "What did Mike say?"

Rodney sat down on the leather seat and Jon sat across from him. "Someone called the news station in Vancouver," Rodney explained. "They spoke with that reporter who came to our cabin when we did the whole fake-arrest-thing."

"Kitty Reiber?"

"Yeah, that's it. The cabin that was three down from us burned to the ground. Two bodies inside."

"Was it Tyler and Kendrick?"

"Don't know." Rodney looked away for a moment. "Unfortunately, that was Tyler's voice screaming through the phone. I know him well."

"Where is Pricilla Maynard?"

"They found her wandering the woods, naked, smelling like gasoline. She was totally out of it."

"Did she say anything?"

"Yeah." Rodney met with Jon's eyes. "That Kristy Blackwell convinced her and Kendrick to come to that cabin, along with Tyler. Then, Pricilla watched as Kristy burned them alive."

Jon rubbed his eyes. "I'll never get the sound of Tyler and Kendrick's screams out of my head." He looked at Rodney. "Tyler was a friend of yours?"

"We have a group of bodyguards that stick together. Every Christmas, we meet in D.C. and party. Or if we're not working, then everyone goes there to stay in shape and keep their mind sharp until the next job presents itself." Rodney cleared his throat. "When Court is ready, Mike wants her to list every single person she knows and send it to him."

Jon narrowed his eyes. "He finally believes Ghoul is doing this to punish her?"

"Not sure. Mike didn't say."

Jon rubbed his face with both hands, then the back of his head. "When do we land?"

Rodney glanced at his watch. "Twenty minutes."

"Tell the pilot we have a change of plans. We aren't going to North Carolina."

"Where do you want to go?"

Jon stood up. "Florida."

### 70

The afternoon sun burned down on the pool area. Brandi and Alyssa floated in the water, but didn't speak. In fact, they barely moved.

Seth and Judas sat in the dining room with full view of the pool.

"Alyssa is going to need a psychiatrist," Seth whispered, holding back the tears. "Most likely, Brandi as well."

"You are the leader of the family. It only makes sense that you're the one that gets them through this."

"I tried to keep evil away from them. But no matter what, they were sucked into my hell."

"We need to plan Judith's funeral."

Seth grunted. "That's all on you. She can rot for all I care."

"Nice brother."

"She kidnapped me and my family!" Seth looked out the window to make sure Brandi and Alyssa didn't hear him. They hadn't moved.

Judas crossed his legs and leaned back. "Nobody's perfect. You kidnapped a young girl and lied to the Fed's about what really happened. Judith took the blame. The least you can do is help me bury her."

"She was going to murder Kristy."

"So were you."

Seth glared at his brother. "Judith was going to murder my family."

"Because you pushed her into a corner with no other alternative."

"I can't believe that after everything, you are taking her side."

"I'm just stating the facts."

Seth leaned forward. "Okay, let's talk about facts. Where is Jock?"

"You know."

"No, I don't. Explain what happened to him."

"You are making me confused. First you say that you want nothing to do with all this crap, now you want me to explain everything. Which is it?"

"Just tell me. Did you murder Jock?"

Judas shifted in his seat. "No, I didn't. A bunch of transvestites killed him, then chopped his body up and hid the pieces between the walls of an old building."

"Transvestites?"

"You asked, I told you."

"Tell me what really happened."

"I just did."

Seth pulled in a deep breath and let the air seep from his nose and mouth. "Regardless of how it happened, you _did_ take Jock to New York and never planned on bringing him back."

"Jock was going to murder his high school basketball coach, along with the family members. I saved lives."

"What if our visions were wrong? Did you ever think about that?"

"Of course." Judas stared at his brother. "I had doubts, until people began burning alive, just like you and Judith predicted." He looked forward, gazing out the window. "You of all people should believe in our visions."

"I'm not going to help with Judith's funeral. I don't care what kind of guilt you lay on me. How would it look?"

"You're worried about your image?"

"Judith kidnaps us, threatens to shoot us, and now I'm going to arrange her funeral?"

"It's the right thing to do. No matter what, you are her brother. We can bury her next to mom and dad. I would hope that you would do the same for me."

"Whatever."

Judas drummed his fingers on the chair. "According to the news, Kristy Blackwell struck again."

"No, Ghoul struck again."

"Pricilla Maynard swears that it was Kristy Blackwell. Why would she lie?"

"Ghoul made her say that."

"In front of the cameras with Canadian Mounties protecting her?"

"Pricilla lied," Seth insisted.

"Why was Harry Millington repeating Kristy Blackwell's name?"

"Who's Harry Millington?"

"The homeless guy in New York who watched Kristy burn Tonya Birman alive in that dumpster after she was stabbed."

"Kristy is with the U.S. Marshal's. You know that."

"Do I?"

Seth lunged from his chair, almost knocking it over. "You think a sixteen-year-old girl escaped from the U.S. Marshal's, convinced Kendrick and Pricilla Maynard, along with their personal bodyguard, to meet her in Vancouver, subdued them, and then murdered Kendrick and the bodyguard, while letting Pricilla escape?"

Judas stood up. "Paula Shay claims that Kristy was responsible for killing the congressman and his staff. What do you think? This is a conspiracy?"

"You're insane."

"How many more people are going to die before you get rid of Kristy?"

Someone cleared their throat from behind. Both of them turned.

There was a large black man, a stocky Hispanic man, a woman with curly red hair who looked drugged, and a white male holding her up.

Judas pointed. "You are Jon Truss, the author."

Seth didn't recognize the woman at first, but he realized that it was Maxine's sister. "And you're Courtney Egan."

The black man moved his jacket. On his belt, was a Glock. "We need a couple of rooms," he said in a deep voice. "Or did we catch you at a bad time?"

### 71

Jon stood next to Court as she showered. Her body seemed as if would collapse at any moment because of her state of mind and physical exhaustion. Taking a shower was a risk, but Jon wanted her cleaned up and resting for as long as possible.

When she finished, he dried her off while she leaned against the sink. Jon grabbed a fresh T-shirt and slid it over her damp hair. Next, he took a pair of clean boxers from the suitcase and helped Court put them on.

"I want another Ambien," she said, eyes flickering shut.

Jon kept his hand around her waist and guided her to the bed. "You had enough."

"I don't want to think, just sleep." She kissed his neck. "Please."

After Jon tucked her in, he debated what to do. It had only been two hours since she took the last one.

The decision was made clear when Court began to shiver under the covers, tears misting her eyelashes. She was about to lose control again. He retrieved another Ambien and a bottle of water. "Here." Jon placed the pill on her tongue and held the bottle to her mouth. "Sweet dreams."

It actually took another half-hour before she fell into a deep slumber. Satisfied that Court was okay, he kissed her forehead and left the room. Ray was lying down on a sleeping bag in the hallway. Next to him were his Glock, a Taser, and a Playboy.

"What are you doing?" Jon asked, trying not to laugh.

"I have the night shift and didn't want to sit in a chair."

Jon looked at his watch. "It's only 6:30."

"Rodney is sawing wood in the next room. He's completely exhausted."

"What about the other guests?"

"There aren't any other guests. Everyone's gone. There's food downstairs if you're hungry."

Jon shook his head and walked away. "This is great. It's like Stephen King's, _The Shining_."

Jon hurried down the wooden steps, through the lobby, into the dinning room. Judas was there, with his sister-in-law and niece. They were eating ham and cheese potatoes, with cherry pie for desert.

"Hey bestselling author," Judas said. "I made you and Court a plate."

"Save Court's for later, she's sleeping."

"Your bodyguards had three servings," Judas complained.

"What can I say? There're big guys." Jon looked around. "Where's Seth?"

Judas pointed to a door at the other end of the dinning room. "He's in the private conference room waiting for you."

Jon walked over to Judas and whispered in his ear. "When can I talk to you?"

Judas continued eating, ignoring Jon's presence. "I got nothing to say."

Jon was about to snap back, when Alyssa held up a piece of paper and pen. "Can I have your autograph?" she asked, her mocha skin blushing.

"Sure thing." Jon scribbled his name. "We've met before you know."

"She was only three," Brandi said with a tired smile. "I remember the 4th of July party Maxine had. You and Court came over." She looked at Judas. "You were there. Remember?"

"Kind of," Judas said, clearing his plate.

Jon noticed that Brandi left out two other names: Judith and Moe. Both were there as well. He remembered Judith being a quiet, yet polite woman. Amazing how people change, although Moe was always an asshole. He got plastered during the barbeque and made a big deal on how black's were more athletic, but white's were smarter. Also, Moe had to light the fireworks. No one else was permitted to be involved. And of course, everyone had to tell Moe what a terrific job he did.

"It's was a fun time," Jon lied. "I'm going to eat with your husband and chat with him." Jon left with a plate in hand, grabbing a can of Coke from a tub of ice. He retrieved silverware and a napkin, then entered the conference room. "Thanks for meeting with me," Jon said, closing the door.

Seth was at the table, his plate already clean with the exception of his cherry pie. "It's been awhile since we spoke. Court looks the same, but you look different."

"I was just a poor author back then." Jon eased into his seat and placed everything on the table. "Money cleans people up."

Seth dug his fork into the pie. "What do you want to talk about?"

Jon wanted to keep this casual, so he ate while speaking. Once he got the first bite of ham mixed with cheese potatoes, it was hard to concentrate. The food was excellent. In seconds, half his plate was gone. "You've been through a lot," he said, not looking at Seth. Instead, he focused on his meal.

"That's an understatement. Are you interviewing me for your next book?"

"Why do people always ask me that question? No, I'm not gathering information for my novel. Real people make lousy characters. I just want to know what actually happened with you and Kristy?"

"Judith kidnapped-"

"Stop right there! I'm good with fiction. You're not. Stick with reality."

Seth scooped up his pie, obviously trying to figure a way out of this discussion. "Everything you heard on the news or from the FBI is what happened."

"No, it's not," Jon said, taking the last bite from his meal and sipping the Coke. He pushed the pie away and concentrated on Seth. "I know you were forced to do something against your will. Whatever happened has now involved Court. This means, you need to tell me the truth so I can help."

Seth squirmed in his chair. "There's nothing to tell."

Jon decided to take a chance. "Ghoul made you kidnap Kristy. He did the same thing to Judith."

"That's crazy."

"Perhaps Ghoul also convinced your brother to do something horrible."

Seth eyed the door. "Your imagination got the best of you."

"My imagination always gets the best of me, which is why I'm the best at what I do. Nonetheless, I repeat, Ghoul kidnapped Hanna and suggested that you do the same with Kristy. He also suggested the same thing to Judith, just in case you didn't go through with it."

"First of all, I wouldn't kidnap someone based on a _suggestion_. Second of all, my sister kidnapped me twice."

Jon pulled his pie close, grabbed the fork, and began eating. "You're lying."

Seth stood up. "Are we done?"

"Sit down," Jon said, pointing to the chair. "Or I'll share what I know with the Fed's. As of right now, this stays between us."

Seth exhaled noisily, thumped back down to his seat and folded his arms. "What do you mean that someone _suggested_ I kidnap Kristy?"

Jon finished his desert and wiped his face. "It's like hypnosis, but a little different."

"How so?"

"Someone with the power to influence your thoughts approached you. Right away, you felt a connection with this person. An idea is placed in your mind with a subtle approach. Emotions that you never felt before, whether they are evil, risky, or even spiritual, start to overtake your thinking. The suggestion that was made could be irrational and against everything you believe as a core value in your life. But it takes hold of your mind. You cannot stop thinking about the proposal.

"Next, you believe that the suggestion is true. It becomes lodged in your memory. Suddenly, what was impossible, becomes plausible. Then, it becomes real. The suggestion went from deceit to actuality. After years of an inner battle, a diagram of how to proceed becomes clear."

"And then what?" Seth asked. A bead of sweat slid down his face.

"You act on that suggestion, thinking it was the right thing to do."

Seth gazed at the table, his eyes lost in another place. "Are you saying that it's possible some of my memories or thoughts are not real?"

Jon reached out and touched Seth's arm. "I'm not saying it's possible. What I'm saying is that it _happened_ to you. Someone is using your family."

"Why us?"

"Whoever is doing this hasn't limited their ability of suggestion to you, Judith, and Judas. They have reached others as well."

Seth shook his head. "I don't understand? You said all this has to do with Court?"

"She's the connection. But I can't figure out why? This may be the most terrifying serial killer this country has ever faced. He's clever, gifted, and using those talents to murder others in horrifying ways."

"Who is he?"

Jon leaned back in his chair. "I don't know yet." His eyes met with Seth. "I'm sure though, at least once in your life...you've met him."

### 72

Upstairs, Court was sound asleep in her room. Across the hall slept Alyssa. Lying on the floor in the hallway was Just Ray.

Downstairs in the dinning room the candles were lit as if the nightly ghost story was about to begin. Jon, Rodney, Seth, Brandi, and Judas sat at a large round table, sipping on coffee. Outside, nothing could be seen. The night was the kind of darkness that only a blind man could find his way around using his senses.

Seth: "Let me start off by saying that I told Jon everything."

Judas fumbled with his coffee mug. "Why in God's green earth would you do that?"

"Because this needs to stop." Seth touched his wife's hand. "We've been through too much."

Judas looked at Jon, although the shadow of the candle hid everyone's eyes. Only the lower part of their faces could be seen. "Are you going to tell the police or FBI?"

Jon: "No. Court tried to tell them about our theory and they blew us off."

Judas: "So what is your theory?"

Jon: "Well, that has changed a bit. What we do know is that Court's the one who Ghoul is really after, not Kristy Blackwell. All this stuff about Kristy being the cause of the murders is a ruse."

Rodney: "If Ghoul is out to get Court, then more of our friends are going to die. Bodyguards are going to start disappearing and found burned to ashes."

Brandi glanced at Seth. "This means that all of you are aware now that Seth has had visions of this happening."

Seth: "So did Judith, but Jon has another theory on that."

Judas: "Oh, please share," he said with heavy sarcasm.

Jon: "A long time ago someone put a suggestion in your head, along with Seth and Judith, that you were going to see visions of a serial killer and that you were the only ones who could stop them."

Judas: "That's ridicules. You mean we were hypnotized?"

Jon: "Not quite. A suggestion placed in your mind can be fought off, unless the person or entity giving the suggestion is convincing enough."

Brandi: "I've heard of this. It's called a _waking suggestion_."

Jon: "That's right."

Judas: "Give me an example of someone who has that kind of power, which Seth, Judith, and I would have come in contact with."

Brandi: "The news on television is a good example of a waking suggestion."

Seth: "What do you mean?"

Brandi: "If there was a broadcast that China was about to attack and everyone should take cover, you would believe the story and act on it. Whether the story was true or false doesn't matter, because in your mind, it is a reality."

Rodney: "So was it some media outlet that persuaded the Stone family?"

Jon: "No, it was Ghoul."

Seth: "And we don't know the identity, but you claim we've met him."

Jon: "That's right."

Brandi: "Ghoul would have to be an influential person that anyone would believe, including the people he let go."

Judas: "If this theory is correct, then we're looking for an authoritative male that can change our lives with a few words."

Rodney: "It's not a matter of _if_ Jon's theory is correct. It is. Think about what's more logical: You were born with visions, or someone played a trick on your mind."

Seth: "Actually, both sound unrealistic. But I suppose whatever we have been seeing in our minds is true to us. That makes it real. In fact, it seems logical."

Judas: "Is what our father told us real or not?"

Seth: "That's a good question. Did we just imagine our father telling us about the visions, or did it really happen?"

Jon: "Well, if we're going with my theory, then no, your father would not have talked about it. The memory you have of him saying those things aren't real."

Rodney: "What you need to do is make a list of people that could change your entire view on life in just a few seconds. Then from that list, think of people you came in contact with over the years. That way, you'll be able to pinpoint who did this to you."

Brandi: "And then figure out who Ghoul really is."

Rodney: "Exactly."

Jon: "Well, start with occupations. Think of professions where you would believe just about anything that they told you. There are salesmen, doctors, politicians."

Judas: "Businessmen, pastors and priests."

Brandi: "Teachers, hypnotists, inspirational speakers."

Seth: "Bestselling authors."

Through the darkness, Jon could feel the eyes of everyone on him. He raised his hands in defense. "I was in a plane when Ghoul was in Vancouver," he said, almost in a joking tone.

Judas tapped Seth on the shoulder. "Do you remember Gus Wrazen?"

Seth: "Sure, he was our pastor in Cleveland."

Jon: "I know Gus Wrazen. I met him a few times during some writing conferences. He wrote six bestsellers."

Judas: "Gus quit the church when we were in our twenties. That's about the time when all of us moved on to different places."

Rodney: "You two moved far away. Why Florida?"

Both Judas and Seth shrugged their shoulders.

Jon: "Where did your sister move?"

Seth: "Iowa."

Rodney: "Why there?"

Judas: "She became some virtuous nut. The city she lived in called Venic, is completely used for spiritual healing. All houses face east. And every citizen has to attend daily meditation sessions. In fact, it's the law."

Brandi squirmed in her seat, obviously uncomfortable talking about Judith. "Gus wrote two books that got a cult type following. _Finding the Path_ and _Hidden Revelations_. I'd say being an ex-pastor and a bestselling author makes a person influential."

Seth shook his head. "I don't feel comfortable accusing Gus of being a serial killer. How old is he now? Seventy?"

Judas: "We aren't accusing anyone, just make a list of possibilities."

Rodney: "Have you seen Gus since leaving Cleveland?"

Judas: "Sure, every year at our family reunion. Gus started coming when he was our pastor and never missed an event. But the reunion fell apart about ten years ago, because too many family members moved away."

Seth: "Let's say for arguments sake that Gus has the capability to pull off a _waking suggestion_. Why would he do that?"

Judas: "And I'm wondering how long it takes for someone to place the suggestion in another person's mind?"

Brandi: "I don't think Gus would do such a thing. As for the time it takes to inject a _waking suggestion_ , it all depends on how much the person believes. Maybe a few seconds or an hour. It could also take several attempts or may not work at all."

Rodney: "Is there anyone else that your family met who could have done this? I agree with Seth. If Gus is in his seventies, he's not the one you're looking for."

Jon cleared his throat. "Gory Specter."

Seth: "Who is Gory Specter?"

Jon: "Gus's son. I met him once."

Judas: "Nah. Gus has a son named Gary."

Jon: "Same guy. He legally changed his first and last name. Now writes horror novels."

Brandi: "His last name is Specter? As in _ghost_?"

Jon: "He thought the name would help him sell more books."

Judas: "Did it help?"

Jon: "No."

Seth: "Wait, Gary changed his first name to Gory? Are you sure?"

Jon: "Positive. He introduced himself to me at an event held by his father. We spoke for about twenties minutes."

Judas: "What does he look like? I remember him being a scrawny little kid. He's got to be around forty-years-old."

Jon: "He's average build. Nothing about him really stands out."

Brandi: "Gory and Ghoul sound pretty close. Not to mention his last name is now Specter."

Jon: "Exactly. And a father who advised him on how to influence others."

Seth: "Do you think Gus is involved?"

Jon leaned forward so his face was in the candlelight. "No. However, I do think that Gus turned his son into a monster, but doesn't realize it. The real horror is that all of you have been under Gory's spell."

### 73

The squeak in the hallway woke Court from her deep slumber. At first Court thought she was alone. Jon's heavy and rhythmic breathing next to her was a relief.

The squeak in the hallway appeared again.

Court could see Jon's face in the darkness. His mouth was open, eyes closed tight, body still. She didn't want to wake him.

Something banged against the wall.

Court slid out of bed. The affects of the sleeping pill Jon gave her clogged Court's mind. He had dressed her in one of his T-shirts and a pair of boxers. The outfit was more comfortable than any pajamas she could have worn. She wanted to lie back down and meld into his body.

Wait, make that two sleeping pills.

She remembered begging him for the second. It was a good idea, since Court didn't think about anything for the next six hours. In fact, she didn't even dream. The bad news was that she couldn't get her brain to function.

Court unzipped her duffle bag and grabbed the Glock. She tiptoed toward the door, but unable to move with silence. The wooden floor gave way, as her bare feet sunk down with each step.

She opened the door. It creaked like a coffin in one of those old vampire horror movies. She suddenly wanted to leave this hotel.

As she turned, a man stood right beside her. She aimed the gun and was about to squeeze the trigger when the Glock was snatched away from her hands.

"It's Just Ray," the voice said.

Court stumbled back, her eyes darting in every direction. "What?"

He shoved the gun in his belt and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Court, it's Just Ray." Because of his short height, his eyes were level with hers. "Are you even awake?"

It took a few seconds for her to realize what she was doing. "Oh shit," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Ray let go of her and slid out the Glock. "Can I give this back to you?"

"I almost blew your brains out."

"I know," he said, handing her the gun. "What are you doing up?"

"There was a noise, but it must have been you."

"No," he said, looking down both sides of the hallway. "I heard it as well. That's why I'm awake."

She saw the sleeping bag on the floor, along with an empty bottle of water. A magazine partially stuck out from the sleeping bag. It was something that started with a _PL_. She smiled. "Are you reading Playboy?"

"What do you mean, reading? Are there words?"

She laughed, but quickly covered her mouth, not wanting to wake the others. "Where did the noise come from?" Her voice sounded like an old lady who smoked three pack of cigarettes a day. She was tired and ready to lie back down.

Ray pointed toward the stairs. "Over there," he said, retrieving his own Glock from the belt holster.

Together, with guns in hand, they gazed through the darkness.

The noise appeared. Closer this time. Both of them crouched, aiming their weapons.

Court's eyes couldn't seem to focus. "Do you see anyone?"

"No."

Another creak, then another. It was as if someone had been walking in their direction.

"Is it Ghoul?" she asked, stricken with panic.

"You need to calm down."

"I can't," she said. Court's heart thudded against her chest so hard the pounding reached her eardrums.

Another creak.

Ray moved his gun from side-to-side. "Maybe someone is up and pacing in their room."

"The sound is in the hallway," she said.

"It could be the wind moving the entire building."

Just as Court was about to refute that possibility, she saw a figure. More like a shadow outlined in the darkness. "Please tell me you see that."

"I do," Ray said, straightening his arms. "Should we kill it?"

The word, _it_ , scared the crap out of Court. _It_ was not a person and _it_ was coming closer. "Do you smell that?" The faint aroma of smoke reached her nose.

"It's a pipe."

"Are you sure?" she asked, gun still pointed at _it_. Although they were both frightened, they still spoke in a whisper, considerate of not waking the others. The fact was, they weren't even sure if someone, or something was walking toward them.

"My father used to smoke a pipe after dinner. I've never forgotten that aroma."

The figure approached in such slow movements, it blended with the hallway. Court squinted, still not understanding if she was looking at a monster or their own shadow.

"Oh God," she whispered, stumbling back. "Look at the face."

Ray took a step back with her and remained by her side. "It..." he said, unable to speak.

Court's chest was rising and falling at a terrifying pace. The figure had a pair of eyes, but was not in the sockets. Rather they were dangling from his mouth like two bloody gumballs on a string.

Just as the figure approached, it seemed to disappear. The temperature in the hallway rose as if someone just turned the heat on.

"Excuse me," a voice said from behind. Both of them turned, guns ready to fire. The figure in the darkness put his hands up. "Wait, it's just me!" he shouted. His voice echoed down the hall.

Court's eyes came into focus. It was Judas. She lowered her gun. "You are the second person I almost shot tonight."

"What's going on?" a voice said from behind.

Both Ray and Court spun again, guns raised.

"Holy crap!" he shouted, crouching down. "Are you two nuts?"

It was Jon, woken from a dead sleep. His hair was pushed to one side and eyes drawn with fatigue.

Ray snickered. "Okay, that would make three people you almost shot. Let's put the guns down, before-"

A door opened and a large figure came running toward them. He raised his arms, gun in hand. "What the hell is going on?" Rodney asked, dressed only in a pair of white boxer-briefs.

Court put her hand up. "It's okay. We thought someone was in the hallway."

Judas laughed. "You probably saw Fredrick Bessire. He's a ghost that lives here."

Ray secured the Glock back into his holster. "What happened to his eyes?"

"You don't want to know," Judas said. "However, when he strolls the hallway at night, you can smell his pipe."

Rodney sniffed the air. "I can smell it now. That's incredible."

Jon tapped Court on the shoulder. "Where are Seth and his family?"

As the group turned and looked in the direction of where their rooms were, a small orange glow shown through the bottom of Brandi and Alyssa's door. Trickle's of smoke came from underneath.

Court took a step toward forward, hearing a loud cracking noise resounding down the hallway.

Judas grabbed her arm. "Run!"

She didn't move.

Rodney directed Jon toward the stairs.

She still couldn't move. What was happening?

Ray shouted, "Court! Let's go!"

Her eyes rolled in his direction. "What's the matter?"

Judas tugged on her arm. "The hotel is on fire!"

### 74

Flames seeped through vents and cracks of the floor above. It sought human flesh, willing to slaughter the few that remained in the hotel.

Through the walls it slithered, whispering to those unaware of what was coming for them. At first the wood flooring wouldn't break away. It took longer than expected as smoke found a path, leading the fire in a certain direction.

Finally, the wood split open enough so the blaze could announce its presence. To its satisfaction, those in the room gagged and coughed, but they didn't scream. That was an advantage to the fire, because others wouldn't be warned to its presence.

No smoke detectors went off. Those were dismantled by the same being, which created the fire. Now that Ghoul was at a safe distance from the flame, the task could be completed.

To the left a door bulged as the floor began to give way. To the right, a black male attempted to escape, leading the way for his wife and child.

Greeting the family was a blaze that fought through the walls and poked its head from several cracks and vents. The family was now surrounded and the smell of burnt flesh encouraged the fire to intensify.

Someone was trying to open the door. Others ran down the hallway. The fire could not let them escape. As the door opened, it was another black male. He was smaller, with panic in his eyes. The flame darted forward like a rattlesnake, burning the flesh from the man's cheekbones. He screamed as the flame swirled around his body, eating the skin and bones; melting like candle wax.

His blood drained from the body and bubbled on the searing floor. The room collapsed, sending what was left of him to hell.

The others were downstairs. Just before they reached the door, the fire caught them by surprise. There was a woman and three men. The blaze was assisted by the spark of wiring along the walls to gain speed. The nearby kitchen stove exploded, tripling the size of the inferno.

The fire used its heat and smoke as a shield. They fell, crawling toward the door. Flames swarmed in every direction, hungry for another kill. The largest of the human group, dragged his friend to the doorway. The woman, along with the remaining male, covered their mouths and made it to their feet.

This would be the last chance for them to escape. The fire eyed the exit, cursed by the outside air. It roared with all the fury it could muster and formed into a ball of flames. Just seconds later, it blasted with a horrific explosion.

It was too late. The four of them stumbled out of the hotel, into the night.

The fire turned and hunted for the other victims.

### 75

Cassadaga Police arrived minutes after the explosion. Court was on her knees when Jon lifted her up and dragged her to a safe distance. The fire groaned from behind, warm on their backs. Court heard wood cracking and sections of the hotel collapsing. All she could think about was that some of her companions didn't escape in time.

She recognized the sheriff from the news as he wobbled toward her. His last name was Kipp, but she didn't recall his first name.

"Is anyone else inside?" he asked.

Court failed to answer. She thought about Judas running into the rooms to save his brother, sister-in-law, and niece. None of them made it out.

"Where are the fire trucks?" Court asked.

Kipp reached for the shoulder radio. Did he really need reminded that there's a blazing fire in front of him and the fire department should be called?

After an exchanged conversation with someone, Kipp addressed the group. "The volunteer fire department is on the way. The big boys will be about ten minutes."

Court glared at the sinking motel. The heat intensified, reaching them fifty yards away. She was going to suggest looking for the Stone family, but it wouldn't matter. No one could get within twenty feet of the inferno.

No one could be living inside.

She turned and walked away, attempting to breathe air that wasn't full of smoke.

A phone rang.

She looked back at Jon. "Not me," he responded. "My phone is melted by now."

Rodney was still in his boxer briefs. "Ditto on my phone."

She stared at Ray, who was fully dressed. "My phone is in the sleeping bag next to the charred Playboy."

Court walked with cautious steps, following the sound of the ring. It stopped for a moment, then started again. When she saw the cheap cell phone sitting on top of the mailbox, she already knew who left it there...and who was calling.

She picked the cell up and clicked the green button. "Show yourself. Appear from the darkness and face me."

Ghoul snickered on the other end. "Kristy Blackwell made me do it."

"Bullshit. I highly doubt you even know her."

The volunteer fire department arrived. Court half-expected a wagon with buckets of water, a Dalmatian on the front seat, and someone ringing a large bell. However, it was a small fire truck with men dressed in thick yellow coats and hats. They unrolled the hose and hooked it to the fire hydrant. Five of them staffed the hose as water shot toward the inferno with the effect of a lawn sprinkler.

"Court, are you still with me?"

"I'm here," she said, as Jon approached. Rodney, the ever-faithful bodyguard, stayed close to him despite only having on his underwear.

"I'll stop killing for awhile," Ghoul said, "if you do something for me."

"No."

"I'm not sure I understand what you are referring too," Ghoul said in a low, calm voice. " _No_ , you don't want me to stop killing? Or, _no_ , you won't make a deal with me so I will stop killing?"

"The FBI will find you. This latest incident will only give them an excuse to increase their manpower. You'll be caught in a few days, if not sooner."

"I'm a Ghoul. No one can catch me. I will only permit the world to be in awe of what I can do."

Court gripped the phone. "You're not a ghost. You're a sick killer who _will_ be arrested and punished for what you've done."

"Really?"

She lowered her head, not wanting to look at Jon or Rodney. Her heart clutched with sorrow and she felt like crumbling down on the street and crying. "How can I get you to stop killing?"

"Tell Rodney and Ray their services will no longer be required. The bestselling author is not a rock star. What the hell does he need bodyguards for?"

"I'm not going to do that."

"That's a shame," Ghoul said.

"Is there anything..." Court looked at the phone and saw the _end of call_ flashing.

### 76

**Note:** During this novel, a _waking suggestion_ has been done on you. Soon, you will do the unthinkable.

### 77

Court slid the piece of paper with names of everyone she knew across the table. Her mind was fogged and eyes watered with either apathy or depression. Maybe a little bit of both.

FBI Special Agent Mike Willis sat in front of her at the Cassadaga Police Department, inside a room just big enough for the two of them. It was musty, with chipped green paint on the walls and a small metal fan in the corner that was rusted right down to the cord.

Mike scanned over four pages of names.

"You're looking at those names pretty fast," she said.

He continued, flipping to the last page. "I'm done." Mike crumpled them up and threw the papers on the floor. He stared at Court until her eyes were directly on him. "You're missing a name."

She could hardly sit in the chair. Too much as happened. Her spirit had been broken into so many pieces that she just wanted to give up. "I'm not sure who you're looking for..." Her wits snapped to attention. "You know who Ghoul is, don't you? And you think because he's calling me, that I should know him as well."

The door opened. An older man walked in, probably in his mid-fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair. His face lined with hard years, eyes sad, yet thoughtful. His body slumped, as if he gained considerable weight, yet, his chest bulged with muscle from the past.

"I'm Garrison McCoy," he said in a kind voice, carrying a manila folder. He touched Mike's shoulder. "I'll take it from here."

Mike didn't protest. He gave Court a quick glare and left the room, slamming the door on his way out. Garrison took his place in the chair.

She shifted her body, wondering if this was a good cop, bad cop routine. "Are you FBI?"

"I'm an advisor."

"Are you FBI?" she repeated. Court wanted to know whom she was speaking with.

"I'm on the payroll."

Court sighed. "Can't you answer the question?"

"I'm an advisor that is paid by the FBI to analyze people."

"You're a profiler?"

"When needed."

"Actually, that's a relief."

He raised one of his busy eyebrows. "How so?"

"I need someone to help me figure out what to do."

He glanced at the crumpled list of names on the floor. "Was that your list?"

"Yes. Apparently it wasn't good enough for Mike Willis." She eyed the papers. "Do you want me to get that?"

Garrison put his hand up. "No need."

"You know the identity of Ghoul, don't you?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? You're the FBI and had plenty of crime scenes to work with. Ghoul isn't really a ghost. I'm sure he left something behind. A shred of evidence had to be found."

"We are checking on some leads and suspects."

At first, Court thought that Garrison was a nice person and had a more gentle approach than Mike. Now, she didn't trust him. "What name was Mike looking for on my list?"

Garrison opened the manila folder with several documents. He slid out the top one and showed her. "We had Jon, Rodney, Ray, Seth, Brandi, and Alyssa make lists as well."

Court smacked both hands on the table. "Wait a minute. Seth and his family are alive?"

He cocked his head, eyes steady on her. "Are you disappointed?"

"Of course not. I'm relieved. Where are they? What happened?"

"Seth was sleeping on the floor next to his wife and daughter."

"He wasn't in his room?"

"According to his statement, he wanted to stay close to his family and not leave them alone for a second. The fire blocked the doorway, so he opened the window and lowered Brandi and Alyssa out. Then he jumped."

"My God, are they okay?"

"Brandi and Alyssa were treated with minor burns and smoke inhalation. Seth has third degree burns on his back and a broken ankle from the fall."

Court had a flashback to the New York fire, then thought about the blaze in the hotel. "Did his brother make it?"

"No. Judas died in the fire."

A layer of tears formed across her eyes. "Judas must have searched for his family, but didn't realize they had escaped."

"His body was found on the first floor. He probably fell."

Court dug her fingers into the corner of her eyes, took in a deep breath, and let the air seep slowly from her mouth. "I'm tired," she whispered. "And for the first time in my life, I'm scared to even walk outside."

Garrison tapped on the document that he slid from the folder. "These are the names that Seth wrote down."

Court scanned the list, but she really wasn't concentrating. Her mind wandered to the hotel fire with an image of Judas falling to his death. She blinked her eyes into focus. "Are these names supposed to mean anything to me?"

"Seth listed Brandi and Alyssa. But look at the third name."

"Gory Specter?"

"Yes. Do you know him?"

She shook her head. "No."

Garrison reached out and pulled the paper back, replacing it with another from the folder. "This is from Brandi. Again, look at the third name."

"Gory Specter," she said, eyes level with his. "I don't understand?"

Garrison moved the paper to the side and placed down two more in front of her. "This is Jon's and Rodney's."

The name Gory Specter jumped out at her. It was the second name on Jon's list and the first on Rodney's. "Who the hell is this guy?"

Garrison leaned back. "We don't know."

"Did you ask them? Obviously there's a connection."

"Of course. They all said the same thing. Gory Specter is an author of horror novels."

"Then that's probably how Jon met him."

"Maybe."

Court's leg shook under the table. "How do the others know Gory?"

"Jon explained that Gory is the son of Gus Wrazen. Gus is a former pastor from Cleveland. The Stone family belonged to his church. Later, Gus went on to become a bestselling author."

"I know his work. He wrote _Finding the Path_ and _Hidden Revelations_. I've read them both."

"As did I."

Court shifted again in her seat. "So you think Gus is really Ghoul? Isn't he an old man?"

"I'm not saying what we think. This is all about what the others think in your little group."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"They claim that Gus's son was named Gary Wrazen. Gary then changed his name to Gory Specter when he became a horror novelist."

"I'm not following?"

Garrison folded his hands together. The tone in his voice remained steady throughout the conversation. "We cannot find an author named Gory Specter. And we questioned Gary Wrazen at his home in Cleveland. Gary claims that he never changed his name or became an author. He works as a Youth Pastor in the same church where his father was a pastor."

Court twisted her body in the chair, her face crunched with confusion. "Then why did the others write the name Gory Specter? And why do they think he is Ghoul?"

Garrison eased out of his chair, collected the papers and shoved them back into the manila envelope. "Jon convinced them of that elaborate story."

Court leaped to her feet. "What are you talking about? Jon made all that up and influenced the others?"

Garrison turned and reached for the door. He rested his hand on the knob, but didn't move. "Let me ask you something," he said, still facing the door. "Have you ever heard of _waking suggestions_?"

"No."

He turned around. "It's a person that can put fictitious thoughts into someone's mind. The thought becomes real and the person acts on it."

Court leaned against the wall. "Are you saying that Jon is putting thoughts into everyone's mind?"

Garrison opened the door while keeping his eyes on her. "It's his job to distort fiction and reality. Right now, he's the best in the world at doing so."

### 78

"Glad you could make it," Ghoul said as he let Paula Shay into the hotel room. "Were you followed?"

Paula's hair was blonder, if that was at all possible. She dressed casual in a lime green tank top, with pink bra straps showing. Her jean skirt snug, decorated with florescent peace symbols. Her white sneakers were new, laced with green and pink. "Who would follow me?" she asked, closing the door.

Ghoul smiled. She was attempting a courageous tone, but the tips of her fingers were noticeably twitching. "You signed a book deal and received a $500,000 advance."

Her gaze softened and lips opened just enough to expose her tongue. "It was amazing that the publishers were willing to sign me, considering I was a nobody just a month ago."

"What happened when you suggested that I write the book?"

"They didn't agree at first."

"Of course not. But then?"

She touched both of his shoulders and slid her hand down to his belt. "I can be very convincing. Plus, the whole world wants to know who Ghoul really is."

"Did the FBI get involved?"

"Yes. But I continued to say that Kristy Blackwell was the one that killed the congressman and his staff."

He brushed his fingers along her cheek. "I see that your face has healed."

"You didn't have to punch me."

"I know. You would have listened to anything I said." His hand fell to her pink bra strap. He slid his thumb underneath it. "I can make people do just about anything."

"Which is why I'm in this hotel room, despite that you're a serial killer."

"I called and asked you to meet me here. You didn't have to come."

Paula used both her hands to unbuckle his belt. "There is something about you that drives me crazy. I can't imagine anyone saying no to you." She gazed into his eyes. "And you're wrong."

"How so?"

Paula licked her lips. "I do have to come."

Ghoul pushed her hands away. "I didn't bring you here to have sex."

She stepped back with a disappointed expression. Her eyes wandered, mouth closed, and lips curled in. "I suppose you want some of the $500,000 advance? But just so you know, I didn't receive all of it, only half. Plus, there's taxes. So don't expect-"

He put his hand over her mouth. "Shhh...Don't speak right now." Ghoul locked his eyes on her. "I don't need your money. In fact, neither will you."

Paula smacked his hand away. "What's that suppose to mean?" Her voice crumbled as she spoke.

"Did you really think I was going to write a book and discuss who I really am?"

"I thought..." She took another step back, but Ghoul stayed with her. "You told me to approach publishers. Let them know I will tell the whole story and you would write it."

"You don't even know who I am."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I gave you a name. How do you know it's true?"

Paula's head turned as she sought for a way to escape. Unfortunately, they were on the nineteenth floor of the hotel. Even if she could get to the window, open it, and jump out, the fall would probably kill her. "Why would you lie about your name?"

Ghoul's lips moved apart, his eyes penetrating into her skull. "After I left Pittsburgh and called you, we spoke for thirty minutes about what I wanted you to do. When you hung up, didn't you Google my name? Find out who I was?"

Paula shrugged her shoulders. "I never thought about it. Why would I?" Again, her eyes darted in every direction. "When I told the publisher that you were Jon Truss, they believed me."

"Of course they did. You were about to give them a bestselling novel. You had been near Ghoul. They were going to make millions, because your story was credible enough." He put his finger up. "Except, they didn't know you lied about the author's name."

Paula sidestepped around Ghoul. "I didn't lie," she said with panic in her voice. "I told them what you said. Your name is Jon Truss."

"No...it's not. You are in quite the predicament."

"But we can make millions off the book. I'm the witness and you're the author. No one needs to know who you really are."

"You don't now who I really am."

She squeezed her fists together. "What the fuck is your problem? Why would you send me on a fool's errand?"

"I'm morbidly obsessed with death."

She took another step toward the door. "Ghoul is a pathetic nickname."

"I know. But it seems to work for me." As she bolted for the door, it wasn't hard for Ghoul to reach out and yank her back by the hair. "Why did you come here?" he asked, pressing his face against her.

Beads of sweat appeared on her skin. Her eyes like saucers; body trembling in his arms. "You called me. Then you asked me to come here, so I did."

Ghoul brushed her moist hair. "And you listened. Not a care in the world."

"I thought we were going to work on the book."

"We are," he whispered. "But you're a character, not the author." Ghoul kissed her lips. "How about I put you in a nice gasoline shower?"

Paula attempted to squirm from his powerful arms. His grip was too strong. "I've done everything you said! Please let me go!" Ghoul held her close and guided her to the bathroom. "I could have given the FBI your description," she cried. "But I didn't." The aroma of gasoline was so strong it burned her eyes. The tub was full; a gas can and matches on the sink. "I've done everything you've said!"

"Everyone does exactly what I say," Ghoul whispered. "It's why my story is a bestseller."

### 79

Court and Jon were at his house in North Carolina. She paced around the couch as he sat and listened to her yelling at him. "Paula Shay was just burned alive at a Best Western Hotel in Orlando!"

This was supposed to be a time of catching up on sleep and rebuilding their spirits. They could plan their wedding day. However, from the time they walked in the door, Court had been arguing with him. This was a rare, frightening side of her.

"I saw the same news broadcast as you did," Jon said with a steady voice.

"Now, even the president is looking for Ghoul!"

"Again, saw that on the news. I was on the plane, looking at the broadcast on my laptop. You were sitting next to me. Rodney and Ray were watching the broadcast from behind us."

Court had been on her sixth lap around the couch. "A publisher named Little, Brown claims that they had a book deal worked out with Paula."

Jon sighed. "Heard the same thing."

She came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes glared at him. "Little, Brown also maintains that Jon Truss was going to write the book for Paula. It would explain who Ghoul really was and everything he had done."

"It wasn't true. I didn't agree to write a book for Paula. I've been too busy running from fires."

Court was not amused. She smacked her hands together and gave him a sarcastic look. "And it gets even better. Shortly after I escaped from a hotel inferno I discover from the FBI that you convinced Seth, Brandi, Judas, and Rodney that Ghoul is a man named Gory Specter who writes horror novels."

Jon put his finger up. "I can explain-"

"Apparently there's more to this little tale of yours." Court began lap number seven around the couch. "According to you, Gory Specter used to be Gary Wrazen before he changed his name. Gary is the son of Gus Wrazen, who coincidently is number two on the bestsellers list." She paused in front of him. "Right behind you of course."

"I don't care who is rising up the bestsellers list. More importantly, it doesn't matter to me if I'm first, second, or even on the bestsellers list. You should-"

Lap number eight.

"You convinced our little group at the hotel that Gary may have given the Stone's a _waking suggestion_ , which is a form of hypnotism. Seth admitted to you that he abducted Kristy, which of course, we are keeping from the FBI. If we did not have enough problems, we're now in the business of assisting kidnappers."

"Seth isn't a bad person. And as for the _waking suggestion_ , it was just my opinion that-"

Lap nine.

"Do you really think that Gus turned his son into a monster? It's kind of strange, since Gus is like a hundred years old."

"He's in his seventies."

Lap ten.

"Gary, who you claim changed his name to Gory, met with you at a writing convention."

Jon shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe the guy who talked to me, really wasn't Gary. He could have lied about-"

Lap eleven.

"The FBI questioned Gary Wrazen, a.k.a. Gory Specter, because his name is on your list. Also, Seth, Brandi, and Rodney wrote his name down as someone they know. However, the only reason they know that name, is because _you_ told them!"

"I can see your point, but it's-"

Lap twelve.

"After harassing Gary Wrazen, the FBI determines that he's not Ghoul, although, Seth, Brandi, and Rodney were sure that Gus and Gary were part of this whole fiction story, which you concocted!"

"I was just trying to-"

Lap thirteen.

"The FBI has been looking at me as a suspect, because Ghoul is killing people in the same cities as if he has my itinerary. Coincidently, you happen to be with me."

Jon raised his finger again. "You could look at it another way. Ghoul is killing everywhere that _I am_ going and you happen to be with _me_."

Lap fourteen.

"Seth believes that someone performed a _waking suggestion_ on him. He finally told you the truth, but refuses to admit to the FBI he did anything wrong. And of course, we can't say anything, because we already look like guilty idiots."

" _Waking suggestions_ are possible if the right person-"

While on lap fifteen, she hurried around the couch to look in his face. "That is the whole point I'm trying to make? You are the kind of person that can convince others to think and believe anything. You've done such a good job, the FBI believes that somehow you are Ghoul!"

Jon shook his head. "I have to be honest. Ghoul is such a dorky name for a serial killer."

Court clenched her fists together. "Are you serious!"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just saying."

"Ahhhh!"

Lap sixteen.

Jon remained calm. "I understand you're upset, but remember that you originally were the one that asked for my help. You told me to think like an author in order to find Hanna and Kristy's kidnapper."

Just before lap seventeen, Court gave Jon such an angry glare, her eyes actually turned red. She spoke through her teeth. Her skin flushed down her face, neck, and even into her arms and fingers, like blood in the river of the Nile. "Are you suggesting that all this is my fault?"

"I'm...I was..." Jon lowered his head. "Listen, I just want to write books again."

"No problem," Court said, marching toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm out of here."

### 80

Besides the clothes she was wearing, Court had lost her few material possessions in the hotel fire. Losing a couple of T-shirts, pants, and underwear really wasn't that big of a deal. The problem was that Court wanted her gun.

It took eight days to replace her license and get a new cell phone activated. She had thought about changing the number, but her temper tantrum subsided only moments after she stormed away from Jon's house.

Court missed him.

Jon did nothing wrong. Sure, his imagination got the best of him sometimes, but that was his job. He's paid for those insane ideas and the strange way he analyzes the world. Court realized that she wasn't angry with him, but rather terrified that he would get hurt.

Emotionally, or physically.

Jon was right. It was her idea to get him thinking like an author to discover who kidnapped Kristy and Hanna. In fact, Court had been picking his brain since this all started. It was reasonable that Rodney, Seth, Brandi, and Judas all listened to him as well. Jon could say just about anything and people would believe him. It's not Jon's fault if his viewpoints are outrageous on occasions.

Court's presence around Jon had become hazardous. If Ghoul had a mission to torture her, then she couldn't bring that danger to her fiancé.

Court headed to the airport in a rented Honda Accord when her cell phone rang. She slammed on the breaks and pulled to the side of the road. If it was Jon, then it was plausible that he would tell her to come back. she thought it wasn't such a bad idea, despite the risk.

"Hello Court," Ghoul said. "Have you considered getting rid of the bodyguards? Or does the bestselling-psychological-thriller-author-Jon Truss need his babysitters?"

She gripped the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles turned white. "I left him. That should be good enough."

"No, that's not good enough. I want the Nigger and Spick away from him."

For some reason, at this moment, his racist comments bothered Court more than Ghoul being a serial killer. "I'm not going to let Jon be unprotected."

"He's not the damn president."

"No, he's more important."

"Jon writes a bunch of silly words."

"And millions of people love those words. They adore him. It's why he needs to be protected in the first place. Also..."

"Go on."

Court loosened her grip on the steering wheel. "There are psychotic fans that attempt to reenact his novels. Most of those fanatics try to approach Jon."

"Females?"

"Of course. But the real sicko's are the males." Court looked in her side mirror and pulled back into the street. "Kind of like you."

"Dead people cannot be sick. I resent that comment."

"You're alive. And when I get another gun, I'm going to put a bullet in your skull. Then I might plug you a few more times just to make me feel better."

"I see."

"No, you don't see!" Court swerved into the rental car parking lot about a half mile from the airport. "Kristy Blackwell has nothing to do with you killing people. For that matter, neither do I, or Jon. It's just an excuse to justify your sick mind."

"It makes for a good story."

She hit the breaks. "Are you an author?"

Ghoul snickered. "Listen to me. I want Rodney and Ray gone in the next hour."

"Or what?"

"I told you. I'll kill more people. You are damn lucky I haven't murdered anyone in the last few days."

"Rodney will not leave Jon's side, no matter what I say. Even if Jon fires him, Rodney won't go anywhere."

"He's that loyal, huh?"

"Yes."

"Pricilla."

"What about her?"

"I'll kill her now."

Court's mouth opened and closed several times. "Is she with you?"

"Yes. I told her to come see me. It's strange how easy someone listens, even if their instincts know it's wrong."

"How are you making these people do your bidding?"

"My bidding? That sounds like a sheik that has control over his seven wives. I'm more of an average dead person who hears Kristy Blackwell's voice and listens to what she says. As for the victims, I'm not sure why they listen to my every command. Or as you say...bidding."

Court had a thought. "If Kristy Blackwell was dead, would you stop?"

He laughed. "You mean if you faked her death, would I stop killing? Is this like doing a fake arrest with Just Ray and pretending he is me, so Judith wouldn't kill her brother, sister-in-law, and niece? Is that what you're talking about? Come on Court, you are better than that. It sounds like a soap opera."

"What if I killed my niece? Would that end this?"

"I suppose the voice would disappear from my head, unless she can speak to me beyond the grave. That is feasible. I won't make any promises, but sure, it's a possibility. Go ahead and blow her brains out of her skull."

Court glanced at her watch. Her plane would be departing in thirty-seven minutes. "Let me talk to Pricilla."

"No."

"Why not? Is she already dead?"

"No. She's in the other room sleeping. There's an empty bottle of Vodka on the floor. Pricilla is quite the snorer."

Court clicked _End_ on her phone and called 911. She gave the address to Pricilla's house in Michigan and claimed that Ghoul was about to murder her. The 911 operator put Court on hold, then came back and got her full information. Court also gave the phone number that Ghoul had called from.

She exited the car, took the shuttle bus and called Mike Willis. He didn't answer, so Court left a message on his voicemail. "It's Courtney Egan. Ghoul is about to murder Pricilla Maynard. He's in Michigan at her house. I called 911 to send police over there." She paused, trying to think of what else to say. "Ghoul called me. He is threatening to continue murdering people if Jon keeps his bodyguards." She paused again. It was frustrating talking to no one. "Look, I have to catch plane. Please call me back when you get this message."

She hung up. After taking in a few deep breaths, she noticed the shuttle bus driver staring at her in the mirror. He cleared his throat and said, "Having a rough day?"

Court closed her eyes and pinched the top of her nose. "You can say that," she said. "My plane leaves in sixteen minutes."

"We will be there in three minutes. If you run, you can be sitting in your seat just before takeoff, with time to spare."

"Terrific," Court said with a hint of sarcasm.

"You see, everything is going to work out for the best."

She pressed the palm of her hands up against her eyes to prevent herself from crying.

### 81

It was about an hour into the flight when the captain announced that the passengers could turn their electronic devices back on. Court was in first class. Next to her was an attractive woman, dressed sharply in a gray, pinstripe business suit. She introduced herself as Jane Smith. Court thought the woman had lied, until Jane handed her a business card. She was a financial consultant who lived in Flagstaff and was in Raleigh for a networking conference. That was about all Jane said. She concentrated on her laptop, answered emails, and pecked on the keyboard with blinding speed.

The great thing about first class is the courteous passengers. They introduced themselves, made some polite conversation to discuss their career, then closed their mouths and worked.

Court turned the power on her phone. She had sixteen missed calls and eleven voicemails. Court prepared herself for a message from the police, stating that Pricilla had been murdered. Probably burned alive. There was no way they could have stopped Ghoul in time if he was just a few feet away from her. As for Court's emotions, she had none at the moment. Her heart felt hollow.

_Message One:_ "This is Elijah. Just wanted to let you know that the U.S. Marshal's released Maxine and Kristy from protective custody because Kristy wasn't going to be a witness anymore to her kidnapping. The real reason they took Kristy was to question her again. She stuck to her story. Just between you and me, I know that Kristy is lying. I've had enough experience to understand the difference. Give me a call when you can."

_Message Two:_ "This is Special Agent Mike Willis." Court rolled her eyes. Mike went from flirting with her, to accusing her of being involved with Ghoul, to introducing himself as if they had never met. "Pricilla Maynard is in Cleveland selling her husband's business to an investor, as opposed to being killed by Ghoul in Michigan. Please stop sending agents and police on wild goose chases."

_Message Three:_ "It's Maxine. I wish you had answered your phone. What is the purpose of having a cell phone if you won't answer it? Just wanted to let you know that we are safe and heading home."

_Message Four:_ "Court, this is Pricilla Maynard. I was told that you sent police to my house for no reason. I'm having enough problems with the FBI, because I won't give a description of Ghoul. You're not making things easier on me. It was a mistake to have gotten you back involved with this family. Please move on with your life, because I'm trying to do the same. Don't forget that I watched my husband murdered right in front of my eyes. And my daughter was killed as well. The last thing I need is you dragging more shit my way."

_Message Five:_ "Hey Aunt Court, it's Kristy. I'm glad to say that we're heading back home. Thanks for hiring Elijah. He's really cool. The FBI keeps asking me questions about my kidnapping." Her voice softened. "Do you think Ghoul really knows me? Or is this just some sick thing he's doing?" She began to cry. "Sorry Aunt Court, I gotta go."

_Message Six:_ "Court, this is Seth Stone. Thanks for everything you and Jon have done for us. After the funerals for my brother and sister, I'm going to take Brandi and Alyssa back home to repair our lives. If you think of any ideas, no matter how crazy it may sound, please give me a call. And if...well, I'll talk to you later."

Court knew that Seth considered the notion that she or Jon would tell the FBI the truth about Kristy's kidnapping. She had already made up her mind to leave that decision up to Jon. Nonetheless, Jon wasn't going to share that information, or else he would have done it already.

_Message Seven:_ "Hey, it's Kady. I'll see you at the airport when you land. Also, I have a nice lunch prepared, so don't fill up on airline food...that was a joke. See ya soon."

The last time Court had seen Kady was at the apartment in Washington, D.C. when they were roommates. Court reflected for a moment on how much has changed since then.

_Message Eight:_ "This is detective Dreman from the Livonia Police Department. Please give me a call back at 734-466-2400. I have a couple questions that concern your 911 call."

_Message Nine:_ "This is Mike Willis again. We traced the phone number that Ghoul apparently called from, to a phone booth in Westlake, Ohio. This means, I highly doubt Ghoul was in Pricilla Maynard's home. Of course, it may not have been the real Ghoul who called you. No need to contact me further on this matter."

_Message Ten:_ "Hey Shirley Temple, it's Just Ray. Wanted to see how you were doing. Give us shout when you get a chance."

_Message Eleven:_ "It's me," Jon said. "I love you."

Court cleared the messages, with the exception of Jon's. She replayed it again three more times. "It's me. I love you."

She glanced at Jane, who was busy on her laptop with some sort of spreadsheet. Court wondered what her own life would be like if she had gotten an average job. What if she had met an accountant instead of an author? Would her life be completely different? On the other hand, was her profession as a bodyguard and engagement to Jon a dream that most women would gladly accept?

It was amazing that Jon knew just what to say. For a person that can write 100,000 brilliant words in a novel, he understood when less was more.

Five words were all he needed.

Court unbuckled and brought her cell phone to the restroom. She locked the door and dialed Jon's number. He answered on the first ring. "Hey. How are you?"

She decided to keep it simple, just as he did. "I'm okay. And I love you too."

### 82

His eyes glazed with horror as he stared in the mirror. The image looking back wasn't him. It couldn't have been.

He thought about his favorite book in the bible... _Job_. "A wicked man who oppresses others will be in torment as long as he lives. Voices of terror will scream in his ears...He has no hope of escaping from darkness, for somewhere a sword is waiting to kill him and vultures are waiting to eat his corpse. He knows his future is dark...He will not remain rich for long; nothing he owns will last. Even his shadow will vanish....He will be like a tree whose branches are burned by fire...If he is foolish enough to trust evil, then evil will be his reward."

### 83

Kady Adam's was a tall woman, with a thick frame and black hair tied in the back. Her expression had an unexplainable appeal, which both men and women were drawn too.

"Where's your gun?" Kady asked, as she opened the door to let Court inside the apartment.

"How do you know my gun is missing?"

"You look lost," Kady snickered. "Drop your bags anywhere. I've made us a salad for lunch."

Court placed her bags on the couch and looked around the apartment. It was simple, elegant, and cozy. "We're having a salad for lunch?"

"Well, also steak and Budweiser's."

Court smiled. "That's better."

Everything was prepared on the table. Court's stomach squeezed together she was so hungry. On the plane she downed three packets of peanuts, but that only made her hungrier.

Kady lifted her bottle of Budweiser. "A toast. To the best damn roommate I ever have."

Court snagged her Bud and clinked the glass. "I'm the only roommate you ever had." She took a sip and said. "Where is Mr. Volcano? Have you been taking care of him for me?"

"Yes. Mr. Volcano has been good to me," she said with a grin. "Do you need to try him out tonight?"

Court shoved her salad to the side and began cutting into her steak. "No vibrators for me anymore. I want the real thing."

"My, my...you've changed."

Court smiled while shoveling in another piece of steak. "Love will do that."

Kady put down her fork and knife, gazing across the table. "Ms. Egan, have you fallen in love with the bestselling author?"

"We're engaged," she said, feeling guilty that it was a big secret. She also felt responsible for walking out on Jon. After all, it was Court that argued with him and then she split. She had a lot to learn about being a wife.

"Well, he is hot," Kady said, returning to her meal. "And rich."

"I thought you didn't like men."

"Well, Mr. Volcano is man enough for me."

"Any girlfriends?" Court asked, wishing that she could have taken that back. The question sounded like she was jealous. Deep down, maybe she was.

"Nope." Kady chugged down half her beer, then attacked her steak. "When you and I were together in D.C., that was the last time."

For some reason Court had become uncomfortable. Possibly, she felt sorry for Kady. If things didn't work out for Court, there was a good chance that she would have spent the rest of her life with Kady. Perhaps Kady had been thinking the same thing. "What did you do with the apartment in Washington?"

"Gave it up to a wanna-be-bodyguard. The guy is forty-six and just now getting into the profession."

"What did he do before that?"

"He was a UPS driver." Kady had already finished her meal and now sipped on her beer. "You aren't the type of person that makes random conversation. What's going on?"

Court didn't look at Kady. If she did, tears would spill from her eyes. Instead, she continued devouring her steak and salad. "You've heard about the fires?"

"Of course."

"You know about Ghoul?"

"Yes. I can't believe the FBI hasn't caught this maniac. Maybe he really is a ghost."

Court had finished everything on her plate, now forced to look at her best friend. "FBI feels I'm connected somehow. I had been Hanna's bodyguard, Kristy is my niece, the murders are happening everywhere Jon goes, and Ghoul keeps calling me."

"I'd say that's a good reason to think you're connected with Ghoul. But how?"

Court scratched her chin, delaying her answer. "I don't know." She grabbed her beer and took a swig. "Just before I got on the plane, Ghoul called me and said he wants Jon to fire Rodney and Ray. If that doesn't happen, he'll continue to murder people."

" _Just_ Ray is protecting Jon now?"

"Yeah," Court said, swallowing down a sorrowful lump in her throat. "I'm sure you heard Gary was killed in that New York fire."

"I went to his funeral," Kady said, standing up.

Court finished off the last drop of her beer and slid out of her chair. "Jon and I didn't go to any of the funerals, because-"

Kady put her hand up. "No need to explain." They sat on the couch, both facing each other. "I'm busy these days with Senator McCain. That new immigration law in Arizona has stirred up the entire country, along with problems in Mexico. Drug lords are most certainly trying to find a way to put a bullet in McCain's skull."

"When do you have to go back?"

"I go back tomorrow. My schedule with McCain is that I'm with him six days in a row, then I get one day off. If I need a vacation, they give it to me, but I haven't had a reason."

"You have a great job."

Kady put her hand on Court's shoulder. "You made good money as a bodyguard. Probably ten times more than I've made in the Secret Service." She locked eyes with her. "But it's not about the money, is it?"

"No." Court leaned her head on the couch. "My days of being a bodyguard are over."

Kady touched Court on the cheek. "That's a good thing. I saw the footage when you took those bullets for Kendrick Maynard. Your reaction was incredible."

Court thought about what a scumbag Kendrick was and how he and Tyler ended up dying anyway. "I'm here to clear my head, not talk about all the shit going on in my life."

Kady removed her hand. "Point taken."

Court leaned over and gave her a quick peck on lips, then kissed her again on the cheek. "I'm tired. Don't take everything I say personally."

"I wouldn't," she said, standing up. "Just remember that Jon is your fiancé and he'll want you home soon." Kady's eyes became lost in thought. "So Ghoul wants Rodney and Ray to take a hike and go unprotected. Please tell me that you and Jon aren't considering that."

"No. I want Jon protected at all times."

Kady walked back toward the dinning area and collected the plates. "What happened to the Glock you had?"

"It was with me in the hotel fire. When I tried to escape, I secured it in my boxers, but it fell through."

Kady dropped the plates in the sink and started laughing. "Why weren't you wearing pants?"

Court stood up, feeling her mood already change. It's what she loved about Kady. Whenever they were together, the world seemed to make sense. "It was the middle of the night."

Kady turned, leaning against the counter. "Why did you have the gun in your hand, if it was the middle of the night?"

"Ray and I saw a ghost or something."

Kady scratched her head. "Did you shoot the ghost?"

"No," Court said, gazing at the floor. "But I almost shot everyone else."

### 84

"Let's just get it over with," Pricilla whispered.

Her plump, naked body was secured to the ground with rope and wooden stakes. Her arms were above her head, and legs spread open.

"I'm glad you met me here," Ghoul said. "I wasn't sure you would come."

They were in The Valley, near Cleveland, Ohio. It was filled with woods, picnic and recreation areas, and trails. A paved road winded through The Valley with several exits that led straight up in the air to the surrounding cities. Most high school kids secretly came here to drink and have sex. The possibilities were endless where they could do this. At night, a cop couldn't see twenty feet. Moreover, only the hooligans entered the woods after it was dark.

This made the perfect setting for murder.

Darkness.

No witnesses.

No one to hear the screams.

Pricilla turned her head. "I should have told the police what you looked like."

"What good would that do?"

She glared at him. Even in the pitch black of night, her eyes glowed like a possum. "If you were arrested, I wouldn't be lying here right now. More people wouldn't have to die."

Ghoul kneeled next to her. "First of all, I cannot be arrested. Second, you're lying here because I told you to come and you did. Third, more people _are_ going to die and you do not have control over that."

A glitter on Pricilla's face appeared. Ghoul realized that tears had leaked from her eyes. She spoke with a soft, defeated voice. "As I said before, get it over with."

"You don't like being naked, do you?" he asked, sliding his finger along the rolls of her stomach. "I think there's a certain attractiveness with how your body looks."

Pricilla squirmed, but could do nothing to avoid his sadistic touch. "Please don't..." She began crying hard now. Her entire body shook. The skin on her naked body twitched as if several alien beings were trying to escape. "Why do you have to kill me?"

Ghoul leaned down and kissed the sweat above her quivering lip. "I'll give you a choice. Die like your husband, or I can kill you like I did Hanna."

Pricilla turned her head to the side. "I'm not giving you the satisfaction. If you want to kill me, then do it."

He stood up, unzipped his pants, and began urinating on her face. She attempted to shake off the yellow liquid, but to no avail.

After he was done, Ghoul zipped up. "That's what I think of people who do not give me the satisfaction." He retrieved a rag and gasoline can. "Burning people seems much more terrifying than shooting them, don't you agree?"

She spit out the urine that dripped into her mouth. "Fuck you!" Her voice echoed into the nothingness of the area.

Ghoul crumpled the rag and soaked it with the gasoline. "I'm not going to lie...this will hurt." He shoved the rag in her mouth and lit a match.

### 85

Jon flew to New York and signed a new contract with Little, Brown Publishing. They claimed that they never believed Paula Shay's story about him being Ghoul, or writing a book for Ghoul. They were just trying to assist the FBI.

Jon never liked meetings, so he stayed just long enough to sign the papers and leave. Either way, he didn't want to discuss Paula Shay, or Ghoul.

Afterwards he took the jet to Cleveland. While in the air, Ray slept as Rodney kept Jon company.

"You aren't writing," Rodney said.

"Not in the mood."

"That's a first."

Jon glared at him. "I don't write everyday you know."

Rodney put his hands up in defense. "None of my business. Sorry."

"Oh, don't be so sensitive. Yes, you're my bodyguard, but also you're my friend, whether you want to believe that or not."

"Why are we going to Cleveland?"

"I want to see Gary Wrazen face-to-face."

"What if he's the same guy who approached you at the writing conference?"

"Then Gary lied to the Fed's about changing his name to Gory Specter. Which means, Gary could still be Ghoul."

"And if Gary isn't the same guy you met?"

Jon rubbed his chin. "Then someone had the balls to come up to me and lie about being Gus's son."

"Which was risky, because Gus was there."

"Along with three hundred other people. But yes, that was a risk for whoever did it."

Rodney reached down to Jon's open briefcase. He grabbed a legal pad and pen, then placed it on Jon's lap. "Write down a description of what you think Ghoul looks like."

Jon shook his head. "This is the same thing that got me in trouble with Court. It seems like a good idea, but doesn't work."

"I think you've been right with everything so far. Your ideas may seem outrageous and even fictitious at times, but you've been closer to anyone when it comes to understanding what's going on."

Jon picked up the pen and began writing. "Well, at the very least I can use this character in my next book."

"Would you call him Ghoul?"

"Hell no. That is a moronic name."

"What would you call the villain?"

Jon thought about it for a moment. "Actually, I would name him Gory Specter. That sounds better. Also, I would make the character a little taller than I originally thought." Jon began writing a description.

White male

6'1, short hair

Strong, yet not overly muscular

Attractive, but can blend in a crowd

Intelligent

Fervent imagination

Unafraid

Has a job which permits him to travel

Wealthy, giving him unlimited funds

Assertive when he talks

Ability to make people believe in the horrors of life

Influential. People listen to whatever he says

Doesn't care what the world thinks

Willing to break the rules

Jon handed the legal pad to Rodney. "What do you think?"

Rodney read over the notes and dropped the legal pad on the seat next to him. "I think you just described yourself."

### 86

The neighborhood that Gary lived in was simple, quite, and had that _peace of mind_ atmosphere. Children rode by on their bikes. An older gentleman mowed his lawn while his wife tended the flowerbed. The smell of several barbecues going at once watered Jon's mouth. He felt deep in his soul that this couldn't be the place where Gary Wrezen, a.k.a. Gory Specter, a.k.a. Ghoul called home.

Then again, it was the perfect cover for a serial killer.

Jon instructed Rodney to rent a Chrysler Town and Country mini van, rather than a limo or something flashy. Despite this, the neighborhood seemed to freeze in time and look in their direction as Jon, Rodney, and Ray exited the van and walked to the front door.

On the third ring of the doorbell and second knock, someone finally answered.

"Well, well," Gary said, reaching his hand out. "If it isn't bestselling author, Jon Truss, paying me a visit."

Jon shook his hand, not certain if Gary was being sarcastic or hateful. Either way, this wasn't the same person he met at the writing conference.

Please to meet you _for the first time_ , Jon thought.

Gary raised an eyebrow. "You sent the FBI to question me and now you come in person. Maybe I should slam this door in your face."

Jon couldn't blame the man for being cynical. "Look, it was a mistake."

Gary moved to the side. "You caused quite a stir around here. But I'm a forgiving individual, so come on in."

As per their routine, Rodney went in first, followed by Jon, then Ray. Jon hated that procedure, but Rodney insisted this was the safest way to enter a home or building.

Gary led them to the backyard, where he had a large grill going with hamburgers, corn on the cob, and baked beans in an iron pot. Jon's mouth continued watering, but now he felt like a dog waiting on his dinner.

There was really no reason to prolong this visit. Gary wasn't the same person that approached him at the writing conference. Both had similar size, although Gary's brown hair was curled. Gus was black and Gary's mother was white. It made his skin look tan, which looked similar to the person who met Jon at the conference.

"We can't stay," Jon said, feeling uncomfortable. There was a backyard full of children, three men and four women sitting in lawn chairs, all staring at them. Jon assumed that one of the women was Gary's wife and at least one child was his as well.

"I didn't ask you to stay," Gary said, flipping the burgers. He used the tongs to spin the corn, then moved swiftly to the side and stirred the baked beans.

Rodney and Ray split to either side, eyes wandering the backyard. As always, they were on duty. They moved just far away where it didn't seem like they were eavesdropping on the conversation, yet close enough to protect Jon if needed.

Jon cleared his throat. "I'm sure the mix up was explained to you," Jon said, sounding argumentative. "You have to understand that people are dying."

Gary closed the lid on the grill. He turned, glaring at Jon. "Which means those that are living become desperate?"

It was a valid point. "I suppose."

"My father is ill," Gary said, possibly trying to change the subject before a full-blown squabble took place. "He's in Kaiser Hospital."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What's wrong?"

"The flu." Gary opened the grill again. "My dad was a pastor and the second bestselling author in the world." He glanced back. "You, of course, hold the number one spot at the moment." He began taking the burgers and corn off, placing them in a large tin. "He's a strong man, but these days, a common cold can kill him."

Jon glanced at the onlookers. Even the kids were staring, all whispering to each other. "Your father is a great man and a terrific author. I've met him a few times. He has a strong demeanor. I'm sure he'll soon be healthy and leave the hospital."

Gary covered the food with tinfoil. He turned, once again glaring at Jon. "You are speaking of my father like you really knew him. The Fed's told me that Seth and Brandi, possibly even Judas, thought my father did something wrong."

"It wasn't like that."

Gary inched forward, speaking through his teeth. "If any of you knew my father, it would have at least crossed your minds that he's holy in every way."

"I agree."

"But you believe my father would raise a serial killer."

"It was a mistake," Jon said, glancing at Rodney. "Your food is done. We'll go so you can enjoy the rest of your day."

Gary reached out and grabbed Jon by the arm. "Ghoul is coming after you," he said, almost grinning.

Rodney snatched Gary and yanked him back while Ray guided Jon away. "What do you mean?" Jon asked.

Gary shook off Rodney. "Evil will come knocking on your door. The sad thing is...you invited him."

### 87

It was early when Kady left for work. She would be staying at the home of Senator John McCain on her protection tour. Court made a promise to herself that she would leave in the next twenty-four hours. Jon was waiting and she didn't want to lose him.

Even though it was only 5:30 in the morning, Court had trouble falling back asleep. She wanted to call Jon, but he liked to sleep until about 10:00.

Or was he up right now, thinking about her?

When Court's cell phone rang, she sprung from the bed as if a fire alarm went off. The caller ID said it was Mike Willis. Disappointed, she answered. "I thought you didn't want to talk to me?"

"Pricilla is dead."

Court rubbed her eyes, for some reason not feeling shocked. Ghoul said he would kill her. He never lies. "I suppose she was in Cleveland when it happened?"

"She was found in The Valley, _near_ Cleveland."

"Do I want to know how she died?"

"No you don't."

"What about the phone number Ghoul called me from?"

"It was a phone booth in Westlake, about twenty minutes from Cleveland."

Court sat on the edge of the bed. She considered breaking down and crying, but that probably wouldn't do much good. After all, being informed that someone she knew was murdered seemed to be a daily routine. "There must be something else you want to say, or you wouldn't be calling me."

"Near Pricilla's body, gasoline was used to write a name in the grass."

"Let me guess...Kristy Blackwell."

"Close. This time it just said Kristy."

"Do you think Pricilla was kidnapped, then killed?"

"Her cell phone records show the same number that called you. So I'm assuming that Ghoul told her to meet him in The Valley."

"Why are people listening to him? And what's more disturbing is that people are willing to die for Ghoul, rather than give up his description."

"I do not have the answer to that question. However, it's certainly a question that needs answered."

Court's mind went in all different directions. "Have you ever heard of a _waking suggestion_?"

"Yes. It's when someone convinces another person of an idea and to act on that idea. There is also what's called a _self waking suggestion_ , which is when a serial killer hears voices and decides to act on what that voice is saying."

"Which do you think Ghoul is doing?"

"Well, it stands to reason that Kristy Blackwell isn't powerful enough to convince someone else to commit murder. In addition, it's unlikely that she and Ghoul ever met. So if Ghoul is really hearing voices, then it has to be a _self waking suggestion_."

Court suddenly realized she really needed a cup of coffee. "I suppose."

"You don't believe in that assumption?"

She stood up and headed toward the kitchen. "Ghoul could be the one giving the _waking suggestion_. Pricilla, Kendrick, Hanna, Tyler, and the others were deceived by him."

"It's not like someone can just say a few words and the other person would listen. Ghoul would have to be face-to-face with them, give the suggestion, and have the capacity to make others believe in just about anything. The odds on that are just about impossible."

"You mean improbable."

"No, I mean _impossible_. It could work on a few people, not all of them."

"Then why are they listening to Ghoul?"

"Well, he could have threatened them. Maybe he said they had better come see him again or he'll kill other family and friends of theirs. That's a valid threat, considering what Ghoul has done so far."

"Do you think Ghoul murdered sixty-four people over the last seven years like he claimed?"

"No. I think Nester Grath was his first kill."

Court stared at the coffee maker and decided she wanted something from Starbucks instead. She opened the fridge and grabbed one of Kady's Red Bull's to hold her over. "Is there any other reason why these people would listen to Ghoul? Something no one has thought about?"

"Sure. It's possible that Ghoul knew all the victims, even before they were abducted. In fact, Ghoul knew them so well that they would return to him, despite his psychotic nature."

Court placed the Red Bull on the counter without opening it. A prickle of anger lit up her skin. "Mike, why did you call me? It wasn't just to inform me about Pricilla Maynard. I would have heard that on the news."

"I'm not accusing you of anything..."

"But?"

"Can we agree that Ghoul is connected to you somehow?"

"Yes."

"Can we also agree that Ghoul is charming and authoritative enough to sway others?"

Court began to walk randomly around the apartment. "I suppose that seems logical."

"So we need to revisit the list of names you wrote. All the people you have ever met."

"The same list you crumpled up?"

"Yes."

She continued marching around the apartment. "I know what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?"

"That Jon has something to do with this."

"I'm not ruling out anybody at this point. We're following leads, but getting nowhere. Ghoul is hiding his tracks well with the fires. Also, I think he's traveling privately somehow."

"Jon was on a plane with me and his two bodyguards when Ghoul murdered Tyler and Kendrick in Vancouver."

"I've spoken with the pilot and know exactly where Jon has been. I also believe that Jon hasn't killed anyone."

Court stopped in her tracks. "So you don't believe that Jon is a serial killer?"

Mike took on a more stern tone. "I'm simply stating that I know Jon hasn't murdered anyone himself."

She was about to speak, but couldn't find the words. She sat on the edge of the couch, dragging in deep breaths. "Are you saying..." Court sucked in pocket of air. "Jon did a _waking suggestion_ on Ghoul? Jon is also the one calling the victims. He's telling them to meet him somewhere, but when they arrive, Ghoul is waiting."

"That sound's plausible, don't you agree?"

Court's eyes rolled back. She dropped the phone and collapsed.

### 88

Only a few people had Jon's cell phone number and the list was short; close business contacts, such as his new publisher, his pubic relations representative, literary manager, Rodney, Ray, and Court. As of right now, he hadn't found a new agent, nor was he looking.

When he answered, the male voice sounded friendly enough. "Hey Jon, how are things going. Have you been writing?"

"Not as much as I like. Still trying to get back in the groove, but of course it's been hard with everything that's been going on."

"That's understandable. I just need to run a couple things by you if that's okay?"

"Sure, but I have a question first?"

"Of course, go ahead."

"Who are you?"

The voice had a pleasant chuckle. "I guess that would help, wouldn't it? This is Ghoul."

Jon swallowed down the fear in his throat, not wanting his voice to tremble. "How did you get this number?"

"Are you kidding me? It took about ten seconds."

"What do you want?"

"I've asked repeatedly that Rodney and Ray be sent on vacation. Why hasn't that been done?"

"We're not listening to you."

"Really? Why didn't you say so? I'll go ahead and murder Court right now. And afterwards, I'll blame Kristy Blackwell."

Jon believed every word of what Ghoul was saying. "Have we met before?"

"Are you fishing for information? You know we met at that writing conference when I pretended to be Gus Wrazen's son. Actually, we've met several times over the years."

"Why are you killing people?"

"Because Kristy Blackwell told me to."

Jon felt like he walked right into that one. "Besides that."

"No other reason."

"What happens if I send my bodyguards away?"

"I'll stop killing and won't listen to Kristy's voice anymore."

Jon gripped the cell phone. "Of course I'm skeptical."

"I see your point. If I asked for a million dollars, that would be more reasonable. But instead, I asked that you don't have protection. Something tells me that you'd rather pay a million bucks than send away your bodyguards."

"So why the request?"

"It's for your own good. I want you be alone and afraid. It will help your writing."

"Are you saying I need help with my novels?"

Ghoul snickered. "Are you saying that you are perfect and there's no room for improvement? Give me a break."

"How much time do I have to decide?"

"About fifteen seconds. Maybe less."

Jon's heart knocked against his chest. "I'll do it on one condition."

"Sure, name it."

"You come see me. We talk face to face."

"Where?"

"My home. I'm assuming you know where I live."

"I do. I'm in Flagstaff right now, where your fiancé has run off to be with her girlfriend. Let me give you some pre-marital advice. Letting your wife fool around with a lesbian may be a turn on for you, but in the end, the lesbian is going to want your wife all to herself. Which means, you're the odd man out...so to speak."

"When will you be here?"

"Can you get back into the flow of writing? Or is this a distraction?"

"Nothing can stop me from writing. I might as well stop breathing."

"That's the kind of things I want to hear from you. Send the bodyguards away and I won't burn Court on a cross in front of John McCain's house to make it look like his new immigration law is racial profiling. I'll fly back to North Carolina tonight." Ghoul sighed through the phone. "And another thing. You'd better not be wasting my time. We're meeting so I can make you a better author. Do not disappoint me and have the Fed's waiting."

"I won't." Jon considered asking one more important question. "Are you a fan of mine?"

"You're wondering if I'm a crazy groupie, aren't you? That would be cliché for this story, don't you agree. We're better than that."

"We?"

"Isn't it possible that you are imagining this entire conversation? I'm a character that you made up in your head. You're an author with a brilliant mind, yet have come to the point where reality and fiction have crossed paths."

"I'm not imagining the news. My friends are either suffering or dying. That is real."

"True. On the contrary, what part of all this could be fiction? Come on Jon; put your thinking cap on."

Jon held the phone with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. "I don't know."

"Take a guess."

"I could be imagining my involvement with you. Also, I'm creating this character in my head and convincing others you are someone else. It's the reason you have been able to get away with everything."

"That sounds good. Let's go with that storyline. Terrific plot. Definitely your next bestseller."

"Are you an author? In the publishing business?"

"I don't know, Jon...you tell me."

### 89

A voice appeared in Court's vacant dream. "Hello...Hello...Are you okay?"

She peeled open her eyes, blinking several times to regain focus. Court realized that she was in an awkward position. Her back was up against the arm of the couch. Her left knee planted on the floor and her right knee pinned against her chest. After a minute of untwisting the body and using the couch to stand up, Court finally made it to her feet.

There were six people in the room.

Two were dressed in suits. Four others had on windbreakers with FBI on the back.

One of the suits, supposedly the same person that had been talking to her, began to frisk Court. "I am Special Agent Luke Walton." After he finished searching her, he asked, "Who are you?"

Court was trying to think about why she was on the floor and what happened prior to that. She remembered talking to Mike Willis. "My name is Courtney Egan," she said, feeling dizzy again. She recalled the conversation with Mike. Once again, she blinked several times to gain more focus and attempt to understand the circumstances that brought her to this moment. "Are you with the FBI?"

"No ma'am." Luke pointed to the four that had on windbreakers. "They are FBI." Luke showed his credentials. "I am with the secret service. Why are you in Kady Adams apartment?"

She watched as the other person in a suit place her cell phone in a clear plastic bag. "I'm a friend," Court said. She had a horrible feeling that Kady's personal life had just been made public somehow. Kady was a lesbian, which probably didn't sit well with the secret service. "We're _just_ friends," Court reassured the group. "There's no need to take my cell phone, frisk me, or look for sex toys hidden in the bedroom."

Luke's eyes narrowed, almost to a squint. "Was that some sort of joke?"

Court noticed the can of Red Bull in the kitchen. Her mouth was dry, head banging, and body twitching with muscle spasms. "I need something to drink."

The agent who had her phone was hitting buttons through the clear plastic bag. "Who is Mike Willis? You spoke to him about an hour ago."

Court popped the Red Bull open, gulped down half of it and thought, _I fainted over an hour ago?_ No wonder her body felt like a twisted rubber band. "Mike Willis is from the FBI."

"Why were you talking to him?"

Court could barely remember, with the exception that Mike now believes Jon is a partner with Ghoul. She refused to tell them that. "It was about Pricilla Maynard's death. I used to be a bodyguard for the family."

Luke stepped forward. "What is your relationship to Kady Adams?"

Before answering, Court sucked down the remaining can of Red Bull. She locked eyes with Luke and said in a slow, deliberate voice, "We...are...friends." Court tossed the can in the sink. "I came here to visit."

"When was the last time you saw Kady Adams?"

The question about snapped Court's mind in half. This wasn't about Kady's personal life. Something was wrong. Luke had said Kady's full name several times. When police did that, it meant there's a problem. "I saw her just before I went to bed last night. She had gone to work by the time I woke up."

Luke looked around. "Did you sleep on the couch?"

Her face turned a bright pink. "No. We slept in the bed together."

"What did you talk about with her? Did she seem upset?"

Court leaned against the kitchen counter. "What's going on? Where's Kady?"

Luke brought his full attention on Court. "She's dead. Someone burned her to a cross near the Grand Canyon." Luke stepped forward, his eyes right with her. "So if you have any information, this would be a good time to share."

### 90

Rodney had been woken from a deep sleep. His eyes shot open. By instinct, he reached over and grabbed his gun off the nightstand. Someone was in the room.

"It's Just Ray," the voice said. "Jon wants to see us. Say's it is important."

Rodney put the gun back down. "Doesn't he know one of us needs to sleep while the other is working?"

"I explained that."

"And?"

Ray chuckled. "Well, he didn't seem to care."

Rodney flung the blankets off and stood up. He pulled on his jeans and black T-shirt. "Do I need to put my socks and shoes on?" he asked sarcastically. "Is someone trying to kill Jon?"

Ray laughed. "He didn't say. Maybe I should have asked first."

Now in a better mood, Rodney grabbed his gun, slapped Ray on the back, and walked out of the bedroom. "When the master beckons, we come a runnin'."

Jon was on the rear deck, typing on his laptop. Rodney and Ray stood next to Jon, waiting for him to look up. _Do not interrupt him while typing_ , was rule number one.

"There are two checks with your names on them in the library," Jon said. He continued working, never looking at them. "There's a year salary on each check. Pack your things and go. When I need your services again, I'll call." Jon continued pecking away on his laptop. He focused as if no one else was around.

Rodney didn't want to interrupt, but this seemed like a great time to break rule number one. "Can I ask why?"

Jon hit save, closed the laptop, and placed it on the table next to him. "You need a vacation," he said, standing up. "Go see your family. Hang out with your friends. You'll have plenty of money to do whatever you want."

Rodney glanced at Ray. "I'll admit that in the past we protected you from middle-aged women and the occasional psychotic fan. But there's a serial killer on the loose-"

"You have two choices: Take a vacation or be fired without pay." Jon's eyes were glazed with a fury that Rodney hadn't seen in him before. In fact, Rodney never thought it was possible for Jon to become this irate.

Ray decided to intercede. "Mr. Truss. You want us to go, we'll go." He grabbed Rodney by the arm. "Come on."

Rodney wasn't going to give up. "Court is coming back. She just needed to blow off a little steam. You know she loves you."

Jon plopped back down on the seat and snatched the laptop off the table. "Goodbye."

Ray nodded toward the house and whispered. "Come on, let's go."

Rodney placed his hand on Jon's shoulder. "Listen to me. I work for you and will respect any decision you make. Just remember that you're my friend as well." Rodney lifted his hand. Jon returned to his work, his fingers pecking at the keyboard with blinding speed. Rodney fought back a lump of sorrow and tears that threatened to leak from his eyes. "I suppose the only thing left to say is...God be with you."

### 91

After questioning Court for another half-hour, Luke called Mike Willis and verified everything she said. Satisfied, Luke gave her the cell phone back and explained that the funeral for Kady would be private. This was ordered by Senator John McCain, considering the violence of the crime and they had no suspects other than a 911 call made by someone claiming, "Kristy Blackwell made me do it."

The secret service could not exclude the fact that Kady was murdered by a group that opposed the new Arizona immigration law. It was possible that someone claimed to be Ghoul on the phone to throw off the investigation.

Despite all this, Court knew exactly who brutally murdered her best friend. Ghoul had threatened to kill more people if Jon didn't get rid of Rodney and Ray. Kady was caught in the middle and died because of this.

Ghoul wasn't the type to give second or third chances. When he spoke, people need to listen or someone will die.

To make things worse, Court was ashamed for reacting the way she did following Mike's accusation. By her fainting, it meant that deep down inside she thought it's possible what Mike had claimed about Jon.

Somewhere hidden in the darkest part of Court's mind, she believed that Jon was in control of everyone, including Ghoul.

An hour into her flight back to Raleigh, Court called Jon. His phone went straight to voicemail. At first she was terrified that Jon didn't want to speak with her. Who could blame him? Even if Jon isn't aware of Court's inner doubts, she still didn't feel worthy of having such a man.

_It wasn't true,_ Court told herself. The world has played an evil trick with her emotions. Court's worst fears have veiled the most simplistic of logical explanations.

She replayed Jon's voicemail on her cell phone, "It's me. I love you."

_Jon was writing_ , she convinced herself. He'll call back.

Court's new upgraded cell phone had access to the Internet. She brought up the Google page, then closed her eyes and let her mind drift. She asked herself questions to spark some rational answers. Who is Ghoul? What is Ghoul's connection to her? There has to be some correlation to what he's doing and the people who are involved. Ghoul had a chance to murder Kristy long before this all started. But he didn't. Jon would have been tougher to kill, because he has bodyguards, but certainly not impossible, especially for someone like Ghoul.

Court held her phone, letting her mind float into deep meditation.

Who is Ghoul?

A bodyguard perhaps? A jealous author? A crazy fan of Jon? Someone obsessed with Kristy?

She started thinking about Seth and his family. Why did Ghoul come after them? Was Seth's abduction of Kristy linked to Hanna's kidnapping? Or was it a twist of fate?

_Ghoul has the power to influence others,_ Court thought. He convinced Seth to abduct Kristy. In Seth's mind, there were memories of his father talking about their mission in life. None of that was true. It was fabricated by Ghoul. Seth's having false memories. His visions were the creation of a monster.

In order for that to work, Ghoul must have done the same thing to Judas and Judith. He manipulated others, implanting visions and thoughts into their subconscious. This is how Ghoul used his control. No one could fight his spell.

If that was true, then maybe Ghoul had done the same thing to her and Jon. Some things in their mind may not be true. What is real and what's an illusion could be mixed to the point that no one could tell the difference.

_Who is Ghoul?_ She asked herself again. Court was getting close to the answer. She could feel it. Her mind fighting the evil subconscious. No one has dared tried to dispute him this way. It's the only solution to battle what cannot be seen. He hides in a sliver of darkness.

Ghoul may have spoken to her face-to-face at some point. It could have been a brief encounter. He's arrogant; confident that no one can stop him. Ghoul blends in with everyone, yet, has the ability to be noticed. He can travel and has access to events that the average person does not.

Court's eyes shot open. "A reporter," she whispered to herself. She looked around the airplane, feeling like the small number of passengers in first-class were staring at her.

No one was looking. The seat next to her was empty. A flight attendant strolled by with a vodka martini on a tray.

Court closed her eyes again; mind in complete rumination. Plenty of reporters and media have come in contact with Jon. Alternatively, not many have spoken to her.

There was this one reporter though.

During Jon's book signing at Barnes & Noble in New York. Just before she left the store and headed to the protection assignment for Kendrick, a reporter snapped a picture and asked her a question.

"Are you dating Jon Truss?"

"No," she replied. "I'm just fucking him."

Court squeezed her eyes, trying to think which company he was from. The New York Times? Readers Digest? Publishers Weekly? She relaxed, focusing elsewhere. At Barnes & Noble, a rude woman gave Court a dirty look. The line was full of middle-aged tramps, all drooling as if Jon's a rock star. Rodney and Gary were behind him.

As the images of the bookstore came into focus, Court envisioned her walking away from Jon. A reporter snapped a picture. His ID badge said...

Tension Magazine!

She opened her eyes and typed Tension Magazine in the Google Search. She found the website. They covered everything from crochet to creative living, exotic foods, authors, and punk rock bands. She clicked on the blog page. There were seven contributors: Five women and two men.

The first name she clicked on was Ken Bryer. He lived in Australia and wrote articles about Swedish Death bands. He was bald with thick glasses and a black nose ring.

He wasn't the reporter she saw at Barnes & Noble.

Court clicked on the next blogger, Daren Field.

It was him. She recognized his short, yet styled brown hair, stern eyes, cocky grin, and shapely body.

Daren had several different types of blogs, along with columns he wrote for the magazine. Most of his blogs and articles were about owning your own plane along with other blogs that discussed the dominance of top selling fiction authors.

In one of his articles there was a photograph of him in front of his own four-seater, Cressna G1000 Skyhawk.

Daren is a reporter, who owns his plane. He is rich, attractive, yet, had the average guy appeal. He had the ability to travel and gain access to just about anywhere.

Daren Field is Ghoul.

### 92

Understand something. Ghoul is a folkloric monster that is associated with consuming human flesh in order for the monster to survive. Often, Ghoul's are classified as _undead_.

It's a creature who delights in the macabre. Meaning, they are obsessed with the details and symbols of death.

In Arabia, what is called, _ghul_ , lures travelers to the desert wastelands and devours them. The creature preys on children that are about to become adults and takes on their image.

Ghoul has an altered mental health that drives them insane. This madness is controlled and potent enough to ensnare others.

Robert Frost mentions in his poem, _The Bells_ that Ghouls dwell in steeples. They ring the bells in order to have a depressive effect on the hearers. "They are neither man nor woman. They are neither brut nor humans...they are Ghouls."

The Ghoul's influence is simple, yet terrifying. Their ability can best be associated to a heliograph. The monster gazes into the eyes of its target. The human sight is dimmed, shadowing the Ghoul. An image is flashed into the mind of the victim, its power source undetected.

What is equivalent to a _waking suggestion_ is placed on the human, just like a spell. The Ghoul has the ability to cross the threshold of the victims mind, into their subconscious. A simple, yet odd request is made. This will further add to the confusion of its prey.

In 1959 a Ghoul entered a movie theater. Before the guests arrived, he placed a deflated balloon on each seat. Of course, the patrons thought the balloon was a strange gift from the theater. However, it was a prop used to control a large room at the same time.

As the projector came to life, Ghoul stood in front of the screen. No one dared to complain, as Ghoul's hypnotic eyes and blank expression shined unsteadily into their brains.

"Stand up," Ghoul requested. No one disputed. The movie played behind the monster, yet only Ghoul's voice could be heard. "Blow up the balloon and tie it."

Everyone immediately did as they were told. Ghoul's control became more certain, as the oxygen dispelled from their bodies and minds became weak. "Place the balloon on your stomach. Bend over and hold it in place, without using your hands or arms."

Now, the blood ran from their brains into the victims faces. The task of holding a balloon in place would seem easy to anyone, even a child. In contrast, the patrons grunted as the balloon's weight increased like a bowling ball. Sweat dripped off their faces to the floor. The theater collectively struggled to hold the heavy balloon in place, fearing that dropping it would result in a penalty so horrifying, they would beg for their own death.

"Squeeze," Ghoul said in his hypnotic voice. "Clutch the balloon with your inner soul."

The patrons grumbled, pleading for mercy. The burden had become too much for them to handle. Ghoul was their only savior. "Grip your fate," Ghoul tells them, as he seized every thought, every memory; apprehending their destiny and creating a world which only he commanded.

Muscles burned deep inside. Their arms flailed. Tears drizzled from their eyes mixing with sweat.

As if an explosion went off, each patron squeezed hard enough to pop the balloon at the same time. The victims fell to their knees, crying with both relief and horror.

Will they be punished? Or will Ghoul give them temporary freedom?

They each picked up the torn skin of the balloon, gazing with utter confusion. Everything they once knew has become uncertain. Ghoul was now in control of their sub-conscious, inner thoughts, hidden desires, and even their more precious memories.

Maybe balloons can be heavy? It didn't seem logical, but for some reason, it was now a possibility.

"Will you tell anyone who I am?" Ghoul asked, as everyone struggled to their feet.

If speaking to them personally, each member in the theater answered, "No."

"Will you arrive at my request?"

Again, the responses were the same, "Yes I will."

Ghoul strolled away like a glimmer of light disappearing into the shadows of the theater.

The patrons sat down and finished watching the movie, as if nothing happened.

~

Jon gazed at the screen of his laptop, fixated on the last eight words that he wrote: _Guide the living to either heaven or hell._

His new book, _Dead Guardian_ , was almost finished. Throughout all the circumstances in the past month he wrote with a fury and speed like never before. The words poured into the page, excluding thought or consideration.

Bells rang in his mind. Ghoul was in the steeple as the rhythmic spell overtook Jon's sub-conscious. All those who listen will become despondent and shut out the rest of the world.

"They are neither man nor woman. They are neither brut nor humans...they are Ghouls."

A droplet of sweat drizzled from his temple and stung his eye. Jon snapped from his imaginative world.

Someone was at the door.

### 93

Darkness overtook the plane. They were an hour away from landing.

At least, that was the scheduled time of arrival.

The captain announced that they are approaching rough weather and there's a hurricane warning for Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. The tropical storm named Destiny increased in just the last few hours and was now a category two hurricane. It headed directly at Florida, spun in a circle, and went north, now heading east again. No one was sure where or when it would make landfall.

Court said in a voice that was a little on the boisterous side, "Who would call a damn hurricane, _Destiny_?"

The first-class passengers looked in her direction. A flight attendant named, Trudy, approached her. "Please keep your voice down and use suitable Language."

Before Court had a chance to respond, the captain made an announcement. " _Hurricane Destiny is now a category four, expected to be a category five in the next hour. We are being rerouted to Nashville where you will receive further instructions. Please turn off all electronic equipment, including laptops and cell phones. We should be landing in Nashville International Airport in the next fifteen minutes._ "

The _fasten seatbelt_ sign turned on.

A collective groan could be heard from coach, as the passengers accepted the fact that they weren't going home tonight. It was possible that they were at least three days away, depending on the path of Hurricane Destiny.

Court ignored the captain's request. She called Jon.

Voicemail.

She turned away from the isle and whispered, "Jon, I was heading back, but we are being rerouted to Nashville because of the hurricane. I discovered who Ghoul really-"

"Ma'am," Trudy said, tapping Court's shoulder. "Please shut off your cell phone and fasten on your safety buckle."

Court put her finger up. "One second."

The plane bounced as if God flicked the sky and sent a rippling effect through the atmosphere.

"Ma'am, right now."

Court returned to her conversation. "Jon, I know who Ghoul is. It's Daren Field; a reporter from Tension Magazine."

"Ma'am, I am not going to ask you again," Trudy insisted. "I'll have to inform the captain if you do not-"

Court stood up and shoved Trudy out of the way. "I need to use the bathroom."

"Ma'am, return to your seat!"

Court hurried to the bathroom and locked herself inside. She called Rodney.

"Hey Court," he said. "Where are you?"

She was so relieved that he answered the phone, tears welled up in her eyes. Meanwhile, on the door, Trudy began knocking and requested that she return to her seat.

"Rodney, where's Jon?"

"No idea."

The plane dipped and Court fell against the sink. "What does that mean?"

"Jon told us to leave."

"You _and_ Ray?"

"Yep."

"And you listened?"

"It was either that or he would fire us."

"Get back there, now. I'll pay you whatever you want."

"I'm on my way to Montgomery."

"Alabama?"

"That's where Montgomery is located, unless things have changed."

"Are you driving or flying?"

"Driving."

The plane shook as if it was falling apart. Someone was scratching the lock on the bathroom door, trying to get in.

"Look, I don't have much time. Daren Field from Tension Magazine is Ghoul. I need you to call the FBI. Then, get back to Jon and protect him."

"Two problems. First, the FBI doesn't really like us that much and most certainly wouldn't listen to me, not to mention the fact that I have no idea where you or Jon get your information. The Fed's need proof, not theories. And frankly, so do I."

"Rodney!" Court bellowed. "Aren't you listening to me? I know who Ghoul is!"

"Problem two...there's a hurricane heading-"

The door flew open. A large hand ripped the cell phone from Court. He spun her around and squeezed on a pair of handcuffs. "I am Federal Air Marshal Esben Malone. You are being detained for your safety and the safety of the other passengers and crew members." Esben yanked Court back to her seat, plopped her down, and sat next to her. He buckled her in and did the same for himself. All the lights had been turned on in plane. Once Court was secured in her seat, the lights dimmed. "Do you have any questions?" he asked.

Court felt the plane dipping at a fast rate. "When we get to Nashville, can I call the FBI?"

"Don't worry about that," Esben said. "The FBI will be waiting for you."

### 94

"How long have you been an author?"

Jon hated that question. In fact, he hated any question that was asked of him more than a hundred times. _How long have you been an author_ was a good example of something he is asked daily. "All my life," Jon responded without an ounce of enthusiasm.

"All your life? What does that mean?"

"I was born an author."

"Okay, how long have you been doing this for a living?"

"I've just starting earning good money over the last few years. It's not a question of how long, but rather how dedicated I've been to live this dream."

"That makes sense. So, how long have you been dedicated to being an author?"

Jon smiled. "All my life."

The reporter laughed. "You set me up, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"I deserved that. Can I ask how much money you make these days?"

"I get paid twice a year; April and October. My royalty checks are usually $250,000, give or take. Additionally, I receive money for attending certain events. Once in awhile I'm paid to promote another author. I've just received an advance on my next book."

"What's the name of your next book?"

" _Dead Guardian_. It's based on the profession of being a bodyguard."

"Sounds different, yet entertaining. What was your advance?"

"$3 million."

"What's it like having a bestselling novel?"

"I don't look at it like I'm on a list, judged by people I don't know. I'd rather say that I'm the best seller of my book."

"Your agent was killed in a fire and your publishing company was forced to merge with Little, Brown. How do you feel about that?"

"You mean loosing some good friends or working with a new publisher?"

"Both."

Jon pulled in a deep breath through his nose and let it seep from his mouth. "I miss my agent and the people who died in that fire, including one of my bodyguards. But just for the record, they weren't _killed_." Jon gazed at the reporter with doleful eyes. "They were murdered."

"There's a rumor that you didn't attend any of the funerals. Some of the families of your so-called friends were offended. Care to comment on that?"

Jon locked eyes with the reporter. "I had the ability to attend only one or two funerals. How do I make a choice which friend was more important? I loved them all equally."

A flash outside, followed by a deep rumble shook the home. They were sitting in the living room as the reporter took notes. Jon was across from him with the television on mute, watching as Hurricane Destiny showed sign's of moving more north. It would be a category five by the time it hit land, destroying everything in its path. In fact, they say it may be the most devastating hurricane in history to ever impact the United States.

The reporter looked up as rain belted against the windows. "This would make for a great scene in one of your books. A storm and villain heading your way."

"First of all, I wouldn't be cliché and write a suspenseful scene with a storm."

"Lot's of authors do that. It adds to the thrill of the book."

"I'm not lots of authors. Either I'm unique or I stop writing."

"Makes sense."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "What did you mean a villain is heading my way?"

The reporter scribbled a few more notes. "I was just saying it would make for a suspenseful scene."

"No. You said that both the storm and villain were heading my way."

The reporter rolled his eyes up and gave Jon a grin. "That's what I love about authors. Their imagination is always on overdrive. The better the author, the more their minds can be manipulated."

Jon held the gaze from the reporter for a period that seemed like minutes, but it could have been just a few seconds. There was a familiarity about him. "You've been to my events and book signings, correct?"

"Yes. We've met on several occasions."

Jon had done hundreds of interviews over the last couple of years. He knew the faces of many reporters and media personnel. This seemed different.

The lights flickered and the night rumbled with the approaching hurricane. Jon glanced at the television. They had a projection cone of Hurricane Destiny with the red portion showing a direct hit in North Carolina.

He focused back on the reporter. "You'd better go."

"Why?"

Jon pointed at the television. "It appears we're about to be directly hit by the hurricane."

"What about you?"

"I have a safe room in the house." Jon realized he asked the reporter to leave in weather conditions that could endanger his life, yet, Jon would remain unharmed here in the privacy of his own home.

The reason for Jon's apprehension was simple. His heartbeat quickened. Sweat ran down his back. His voice lacked confidence. He was nervous around this reporter. This wasn't right.

The reporter cocked his head. "You're thinking there's something wrong, aren't you?"

Jon couldn't lie. The reporter gazed into his soul. "I can't place it, but it feels like we've met before, but not professionally."

The reporter closed his notebook. "It's coming back to you, but only because I have allowed that to happen. I could have gone all night, influencing your sub-conscious."

Jon stood. His eyes briefly drawn to the television. They had about three hours before the hurricane made land. "This is going to be a terrible situation-"

"Jon," the reporter hissed. He was right next to him. "Forget about the storm for a minute. Focus on how you know me. Your inner fears are battling with an outcome that's unreasonable. You have yet to accept your fate."

He stared long at the reporter. They were face-to-face. Before answering, Jon swallowed a lump of dread that formed in his throat.

The lighting flashed and his memory became clear as if the fog had been lifted. "You are Gory Specter. The man who approached me at an event and claimed to be Gus Wrazen's son."

"Yes," the reporter hissed. "However, you know my real name. Say it."

Jon felt like the next two words would be his last. "Daren Field."

"Well, that's my human name." His warm breath became a furnace on Jon's skin. "Come on, what's my real name?"

Jon wanted to step back, but his movements were paralyzed. "Ghoul."

The crack of lightning hit so close it was like a bomb exploding. The electricity went off, leaving Jon and Ghoul in complete darkness.

"Well, this is _really_ cliché," Ghoul said. "The main character discovers that a serial killer is standing three inches away, during a storm, and the power goes off."

"Cliché indeed," Jon said, closing his eyes for a moment. He felt as if a hex had been placed on him. Why wasn't he trying to escape?

Ghoul asked, "If this were your book, what would happen next?"

"I would be saved. My bodyguards would decide to come back and see if I was all right because of the storm. Court would rush into the house with the FBI. You would fight back and easily be killed with several bullets to the head and chest."

Ghoul laughed in the darkness. The sound echoed through the house. The lightning outside briefly exposed the killers face. "Come Jon, you're a bestselling author and claim to be different from everyone else. What is really going to happen?"

Jon lowered his head. He spoke the first thing that came to his mind. "I would end the story by saying that Ghoul got away."

"That's interesting. You would have a sequel?"

"No. I hate sequels."

"Then why would the killer get away?"

"A symbolic proclamation that sometimes, even in fiction, evil wins."

Ghoul clapped his hands. It was slow, loud, deliberate smacks. " _That_ is why you're a bestselling author," he said, placing his hand around Jon's shoulders. "Let's go."

### 95

Court had been detained for over an hour with one of her wrists handcuffed to the metal chair. No one came inside to see her. She had attempted to holler at the door, claiming that she needed to make a phone call. Either no one could hear her, or no one cared.

When someone finally came in, her throat was raw from yelling. "I need water and my phone," she said, barely audible.

"I'm Norman Willis with the FBI," he said, flashing his credentials. There was a small fridge in the corner of the room. He opened it and grabbed a bottle of water, handing it to Court. "Interference with a flight crew and attendants is a federal offense."

She twisted off the cap and gulped down most of the bottle. "That's what I'm being charged with?"

Norman stood over Court like a father scolding his daughter. "That carries a maximum sentence of twenty years in prison and a $250,000 fine."

"You have to be joking. I was just talking on my cell phone!"

"Lucky for you, no one had been attacked and the plane was rerouted because of weather, not your little stunt."

Court finished off the bottle, put the cap back on, and handed it to him. "Yes, I feel very lucky. Can I make a phone call?"

"We will knock the charges down to disorderly conduct."

"No!" Court protested. "That will result in me having to stay here."

Norman raised an eyebrow and smiled. "You mean until your _court_ date?"

She glared at him. "Yeah, that's hilarious."

"When we did your background check, we found that you recently made a false 911 call."

"The woman I was trying to save ended up being killed. There wasn't anything false about that."

"Nevertheless, you seem to have a knack for disruption."

"I don't even know what that means, but can I please make a phone call?"

"This was your first offense, you haven't been arrested before, so I'm sure the judge will let you go with a warning."

"Then why don't you save the taxpayers money and let me go right now?"

Norman smiled. "That's what we're doing." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a key, and unlocked the handcuffs. "You are free to go."

"Why didn't you just say that when you walked in?"

"Because, you needed to sweat a little."

"Thanks, but I've done enough sweating this past month." She stood up, rubbing her wrist. "Where's my cell phone?"

Norman reached into his other pocket and retrieved her phone, then handed it to her. "Mike Willis called you."

She snatched the phone from his hand. "You know he's an FBI agent, right?"

Norman gave her grin and walked away. "Yes. He's the one that told us to let you go."

Court shook her head, glad to be alone in the room. She dialed Mike. Each ring seemed to take minutes.

"Hey there Court. It's good to know you're staying out of trouble. I spoke with a Secret Service Agent, Luck Walton, from Arizona. He claims to have found you in the apartment of Kady Adams."

"She was a friend. Jesus, what's wrong with you people?"

"That's not why I called."

Court didn't care why he called. "Look, I know who Ghoul is."

"Daren Field. He's a reporter and blogger for Tension Magazine."

She squeezed the phone. "Did Rodney call you?"

"No. We finally caught a break. When Kady was murdered at the Grand Canyon, someone actually took a picture of the person who did it. We were able to identify Daren."

"Do you have him?" Court held her breath.

"No. He has several condominiums all over the country. We're checking each one. Also, we're questioning everyone at Tension Magazine. By the way, how long have you known about Daren?"

"I figured it out while on the plane, which caused the ruckus."

"Makes sense."

Court took a moment to think. "We need to protect Jon."

Mike paused. "Look, I'm still not sure about Jon's involvement."

"Fine, then pick him up. Arrest him. I don't care. It will be better than Jon being a sitting duck. He got rid of his bodyguards."

"Where is Jon now?"

"I'm assuming he's still at his home in Raleigh, North Carolina."

"Well, that could be a problem."

"Why?"

"Hurricane Destiny."

"Where is she supposed to hit land?"

"The forecasts have been all over the place. Some think it will be northern Florida, or South Georgia. The Carolina's are still a possibility. Either way, Raleigh is in for some rough weather. Destiny is a Category four, and should be a five by the time it makes landfall."

Court considered her options. "I've been unable to get a hold of Jon."

"Why did he get rid of his bodyguards?"

"The same reason someone would name a hurricane, Destiny," Court said, her voice cracked with anxiety. "It doesn't make sense."

"It does to me."

"Mike, I'm telling you that Jon has nothing to do with Ghoul."

"Let me ask you something," Mike said with a stern tone. "Why did you leave?"

"We had an argument. Nothing serious, I just needed to blow off some steam."

"Who caused the argument?"

Court fell right into that trap. "He did, but-"

"My point exactly. Jon knows precisely what he's doing."

### 96

All cars, vans, and SUV's had been rented. People were stranded in Nashville as Hurricane Destiny wreaked havoc on the eastern seaboard. It actually spun north and was doing a circle in the Atlantic Ocean. This meant Destiny's going to hit landfall in the same place, two different times.

Court had to make traveling arrangements and get to Jon. She withdrew $60,000 just before the bank closed, took a cab to a car dealership, and paid cash for a red Hummer H3. She was going to be driving in horrific weather conditions and she needed a vehicle that could handle just about anything.

Under normal circumstances she would be about nine hours away from Raleigh. It was dark, with blinding rain, and winds jumped anywhere from 30 mph to gusts up to 175 mph. Debris of all sorts either blocked her path or smacked up against the Hummer.

Ghoul called Court and said, "Court is in session."

"I don't understand," she said, gripping the wheel.

Ghoul said something, but she couldn't understand.

Court spoke with a loud voice. "Say again. I can't hear you."

The static response was unrecognizable.

"You're breaking up. Say again."

Suddenly, Ghoul's voice became clear. "I made a joke so that I could say something just like a villain in a low-grade paperback novel. 'Court is in session' seems like a great line just before I kill someone. Don't you think?"

"No, I don't."

"...meet...Ashv...they..."

"You're breaking up again," Court yelled, dodging a fallen power line that sparked while snapping in every direction. "The FBI knows who you are. It's over."

"Jon...Kri...Elija...oth...die."

Court gripped the steering wheel so hard that her fingers turned white as chalk. "What? I can't understand you?"

"Batt...Pa...tel..."

The signal was lost.

Court flicked the windshield wipers on as high as they would go, but it didn't seem to matter. Rain belted the Hummer with a relentless assault as she sped along State Road 40.

Court hadn't slept well in days. Her eyes burned, attempting to concentrate on the road. Every ten minutes she would glance down at her phone. The _No Signal_ gawked back at her.

It was three hours later when the phone beeped. She found a Mobil gas station and drove into a parking lot. She skidded to a halt by the pump, jammed the gear into park, and cut off the engine.

A text had managed to come through from Jon.

Tears of relief spilled down her cheeks. She read the message. Then read it again.

Someone banged on the drivers side window. "We only have premium!" he yelled.

The storm raged sideways through the parking lot.

She clicked the key over to shut off the engine then rolled the window down. "What?"

"We're out of all gasoline except for premium. Also, I was supposed to evacuate six hours ago while Hurricane Destiny decides what the hell she's going to do. If you want something, better hurry up because I'm leaving."

Court reached into her purse and retrieved a hundred dollar bill. "Here," she said, handing him the money. "Can you please fill it up? Also, if you have any food or drink's available, that would be great."

"What kind of food or drinks?"

"Anything with caffeine or sugar." She rolled up the window, not wanting to extend the conversation. The attendant shoved the money in his pocket and filled up the tank.

As the Hummer rocked side-to-side from the winds, she read the message a third time.

Battery Park Hotel, Room 717/Asheville/NC

The text had been sent over an hour ago. Court suddenly had mixed emotions of relief and terror.

Through the belting rain, the attendant came back with a large plastic bag full of items. Court rolled down the window. "Thank you."

"No problem," he said. "You're all set. Be safe."

She didn't respond. Instead, Court rolled the window back up, fired up the engine, and sped out of the parking lot back into the elements. She glanced in the bag while driving. There was a blue Power Aid, cherry Capri Sun, kiwi flavored Dasani water bottle, large bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, and several varieties of candy bars.

As she headed away from Knoxville, her mind drifted back to what Ghoul had been saying. Although his voice went in and out, some of the garble now made sense. "Batt...Pa...tel..." That could be similar to what Jon texted her. Battery Park Hotel in Asheville, North Carolina.

Court banged her fist on the dashboard. Ghoul sent that text using Jon's cell phone.

She thought about the other garble. "...meet...Ashv...they...Jon...Kri...Elija...oth...die." It wasn't hard to decipher now. "You'd better meet me in Ashville or I will kill them. Jon, Kristy, Elijah, and others are going to die."

Anger took over her emotions. How the hell did Ghoul capture Elijah, who's a gifted bodyguard, along with Kristy and Jon?

Court pressed the gas peddle to the floor, despite the dangers lurking in every direction. Hurricane Destiny would continue to destroy while it churned just off the coast. Ghoul would continue to murder while he hid in the darkness.

Court decided that she wouldn't stop until either Ghoul or Destiny took her life.

### 97

The good news was that Asheville had been closer than Raleigh. The bad news was that Hurricane Destiny was destroying the Carolinas.

Court still didn't have a signal on her phone. According to the clock in the Hummer, it was eight in the morning. Instead of the world engulfed in darkness, it was more of an eerie shade of gray. The sky swirled as if the world had been warped and manipulated.

That's how Court felt; _warped and manipulated_. Her fiancé and niece, along with her friend had been kidnapped and awaited for her arrival. Nothing could prevent Ghoul from killing them all. The drive from Nashville had seemed forever, but her dreaded future had arrived.

Asheville became a ghost town, which fit her circumstances perfectly. Buildings had been ruined, trees ripped from the ground, and cars toppled over. An occasional fire burned, wires hissed like snakes, debris cluttered the roads.

The scene was ideal for a serial killer.

Ghoul's in control right now. Perhaps he had been directing events exactly how he wanted, without failure. Daren Field, a reporter for Tension Magazine, right now was the most persuasive and feared man in the country.

How was it possible that an average human could terrorize so many? A serial killer that alluded police and FBI. Ghoul amazingly kept his identity a secret during his killing spree. No DNA had been found. Not a strand of hair or a piece of skin from his body.

All proof of his existence, smoldered in a series of fiery hells.

Court glared at the flickering GPS screen. She would have to find the address the old fashion way. It took another twenty minutes of circling around the block, but she located the address of an apartment building, not a hotel. One Battery Street was a brick building that went up at least twenty stories.

Court parked, slid out of the Hummer and stretched her legs. Strapped to her ankle was her Tasor. She really needed a gun. It crossed her mind to look for a store that sold weapons. She would break in and steal something that would blow a massive hole in Ghoul's head.

Nevertheless, now that Court had found the building she didn't have willpower to leave.

As clouds spun from above, the air went from dead silence to a sinister whistle. Court had thought that Hurricane Destiny had passed. She looked up at the supernatural iron sky that revolved without an end in sight.

Destiny had been glaring at the world with one motionless eye, getting ready to continue her annihilation of the Carolinas. The Batter Park Apartments had survived the frontal attack from Destiny. Its brick walls would be tested again as the hurricane rumbled one more battle cry.

Court hurried to the front door when it seemed that daylight had disappeared from the atmosphere. The iron gray clouds replaced by the gloom of obscurity, shadowing the fatalities below.

She made her way inside the building with a quick flash of lightning that sparked from behind. The entrance way had an ember glow from kerosene lanterns that funneled through the hallway.

"Who's there?" someone shouted from the corridor.

Court's heart thumped so violently against her chest she could hardly breathe. "It's me," she managed to say.

"You'll have to do better than that," the man said, stepping closer. He clutched the walls, with movements like a drunk who stumbled from a tavern. "Are you the police? I need help." His face came into the ruddiness of the dim light. "My name is Mier Templeton. I live in apartment 717."

Court saw that Mier's eyes were round like saucers, with pupils that rolled up into his head.

He was blind.

"Why didn't you evacuate?" she asked, attempting to adjust her eyes to the darkness of the building. If someone else were standing in the corridor, she wouldn't be able to see them.

"That's a good question young lady," he said with a sour expression. "Perhaps a better question is why didn't someone take me with them?" He reached out and grabbed her arm. His fingers bravely slid around her face, then continuing his examination down her chest and around her stomach. "Oh crap. Where's your badge?" He felt around her waist and thighs. "You're wearing jeans."

"I'm not the police. My name is Court."

"Terrific. You have a name that sounds like a judicial organization that hears legal cases, but I highly doubt you have a lawful bone in that firm body of yours." Mier turned around and clutched the wall again. His baldhead glittered as he stumbled away from her. "What's going on with this hurricane? Why is it still around?"

"For some reason, Destiny couldn't make up her mind. She has spun several times in the Atlantic." Court took his hand and guided him down the hallway. "Who lit all these lanterns?"

"Don't know. I can smell the kerosene though. Not to smart if the storm decides to break this building in half."

"How long have you been stranded?"

"Since yesterday when everyone took off. I told the apartment manager that I needed assistance. He said that he would knock on my door and get me once he made sure everyone else had made it to safety. I got my suitcase packed and was ready to leave. The dickhead never showed up." Mier tugged on Court's arm. "Sorry for being so irritating. I'm grateful that you showed up."

"No problem." Her eyes wandered to the front and behind them. The elevator was just up ahead. "Where's the stairwell? I'm actually looking for some people." Court's veins pumped with fear as they went deeper inside the building. Ghoul could be anywhere.

"The stairwell is just around the corner, but I advise not going up them."

"Why?"

Mier came to an abrupt stop and glared at her with his silver dollar eyes. "There's a hurricane outside. Do you really want to be on one of the upper floors?"

"Good point," she said, squeezing his hand. "Did you say your apartment is 717?"

"Yes."

"Is anyone up there? Did anyone talk to you?"

"I told you that no one has been here since yesterday. But obviously someone is here."

"Why do you think that?"

Mier pointed at the ceiling. "Well, I didn't light all these kerosene lanterns."

Court gazed into the darkness. "Where's the safest place we can go for now?" She wanted to put Mier somewhere until the hurricane finished its torment of North Carolina. At the same time, she would have to hunt for Ghoul.

"There's a storage room somewhere on the east side of the building." He pointed. "Over there I think."

She stared down the hallway, noticing more lanterns. Ghoul was waiting for her. Court could feel his presence. "You'd better stay here for a second. I'll make sure it's safe up ahead."

"Yeah right. And like the manager, you'll never come back." Mier yanked his hand away. "Just say that I'm too much trouble and I'll survive on my own."

"It's not that." Court didn't want to leave him, but she couldn't take him into certain death. If Ghoul was here, then she could not protect Mier. "If I let you touch my breast again, will you stay? I promise to come back."

"No deal. You have a nice chest, but I'm coming with you."

"Fine." Court grabbed his arm and led him down the corridor. She wondered if Jon, Kristy, and Elijah were really in the building. If so, where were they? And how would she save them from Ghoul.

Unless they were already dead.

"Why are your breathing so hard?" Mier asked. "Don't be nervous. I can hear the storm outside, but it seems to be heading away from us."

"It's not that."

Mier stopped again. "Why are you here?"

She thought about the text message. "You were in apartment 717?" she asked again.

"Yes. I have no reason to lie."

"Did anyone approach you in the last few hours?"

Mier huffed. "Did I not make it clear that I was abandoned?"

Court decided to be honest. "A serial killer has possibly kidnapped my fiancé, niece and her bodyguard. To make matters worse, the serial killer told me to come here and he used my fiancé's phone when he called. Most likely, we are walking into certain death, but I don't have a choice."

"Maybe I'll hang back," Mier suggested.

"That's what I was thinking."

"Did you know this apartment building used to be a hotel? It's haunted now."

"Perfect," she said, glancing down the hallway. "Look, I need-"

"A woman was murdered in room 224. She was savagely beaten, face slashed, then burned alive in the tub."

Court stared at him. "That's horrible," she managed to say.

"Shortly after, others started committing suicide. They would jump right off the building."

"Why?"

"They were told to jump."

Sweat poured down her face. She took another quick glance down the hallway. "Did they ever find out who murdered the woman?"

"Yeah. Gory Specter. He worked in the building."

She fell back to the wall. "Did they catch him?"

"The crazy bastard confessed the whole thing to the woman's family. She had two brothers and a sister."

"Did they tell the police?"

"Nope. Took matters into their own hands. They killed Gory Specter the same way he killed their sister...burned him alive." Mier's head bobbed from side to side. "Other tenants in the building claim to see the woman lurking in the halls. The people who work here don't go anywhere alone, because the spirit of Gory can manipulate their minds. Suicides are still frequent here. During storms, you can see the ghosts leap from the building." Mier's eyes gaped right through her. "Sort of a replay of their death."

Court pushed herself off the wall. "His name was Gory Specter? Are you sure?"

Mier smiled. "Listen. Stories get twisted over time. It's highly doubtful that some guy named Gory Specter did all that." Mier placed his hand on her shoulder. "Think about the name, Specter. It sounds made up."

"What do you think? Did it really happen or not?"

"Well, Specter means spirit or ghost."

"I know what it means."

"If I were a betting man, I would say it's just a ghost story."

Court reached down and grabbed the Taser. "What was the woman's name that had been murdered?"

Mier eyes seemed to have the emergence of evil. He whispered, "Her name was Kristy Blackwell."

### 98

Ghoul was close.

Hidden in a sliver of darkness, he would reveal himself when ready. No matter how careful she was, Ghoul would surprise her. He would appear like a spirit.

Like a ghost.

She glanced back, barely able to see Mier down the hallway. He leaned against the wall, not moving. Court assumed that he was listening. Mier could hear each cautious step she made. In some ways, he saw in the darkness what she could not. Court relied on her eyesight, which was a poor defense system at the moment. Mier could detect evil using his smell and hearing. Regardless of that advantage, it was too dangerous to bring him along.

She opened the last door on the left, which Mier claimed was the storage room. More lanterns were inside. Court prayed that the electricity would just pop back on. Of course, that was wishful thinking. The hurricane outside made its final attack. Every building and home would remain dark until Destiny decided to leave.

The lanterns hung from the ceiling. They dangled as if a strong wind circulated through the room. Was it the hurricane seeping through the cracks? Or was Ghoul darting around the room?

Lined up in the middle were seven barrels. Each had a rag stuck into the lid. It was difficult to establish how big the room really was. The ember glow from lanterns only reached a few feet around the barrels.

She took cautious steps forward with the Taser gripped in her hand. There were handwritten signs on top of each barrel. The first said gluttony. Then there was: sloth, lust, vanity, anger, envy, and greed.

The Seven Deadly Sins.

"Scary, isn't it?" The whisper came from behind, near the first barrel. Court didn't turn. She had been optimistic when Ghoul appeared, she could zap him with the Taser. Unfortunately, he's too far away. "Where is your gun?" he asked.

Now Court had to turn and face the serial killer. "It was destroyed in the fire."

"Which fire?"

"Cassadaga."

Ghoul stepped into the faint glow of the lanterns. "Can you believe there's actually a hurricane hitting us right now? And to dramatize this situation even more, the damn thing is named, Destiny."

Court gripped the Taser. She wanted to move closer, but fear wrapped every muscle in her body.

Daren Field didn't look like a cold-blooded killer. In fact, he looked like an average, attractive man with a hint of arrogance. In many ways, he had the same appearance as Jon. It was almost hard to be afraid of Daren, yet, Court felt her fingers twitch as his eyes shown through the darkness.

Court swallowed, then cleared her throat. "Where is Jon? My niece? Her bodyguard?"

Ghoul revealed a metal pipe or crowbar on one hand. He then looked down, clicking something in his other hand. A small flare appeared, followed by a large blue flame. It wasn't a crowbar.

Ghoul was holding a blowtorch.

He narrowed the flame and waved it around. "You know where they are," he finally said.

Court glanced at the seven barrels. Defeat had already set in. "Are they..." She stepped forward, her chest rising and falling. "Are they alive?"

"Of course. What kind of story would this be if I killed them off?"

"Story?"

"Jon and I spoke. He's a terrific writer, but really needs to take his talents to the next level."

"Is that why you're doing all this?"

"No," Ghoul said. His grin looked devilish next to the flame of the blowtorch. "Kristy Blackwell made me do it."

"But all this time, you weren't referring to the Kristy Blackwell that lives in Florida."

"No." He raised both hands. The flame sputtered in the mysterious draft that flowed through the room. "It was the Kristy Blackwell who was murdered in this building. Her spirit has been speaking to me." Ghoul's eyes became dark. "I had nothing to do with the abduction of Kristy Blackwell in Florida."

"I know," she said, taking another step forward. "But you abducted Hanna Maynard."

"Yes." Ghoul held the blowtorch with both hands. "And fate abducted your niece."

"So why bring her into this? Let her go."

"Sure," Ghoul said. He nodded toward the barrels. "What do you think about me labeling these with the Seven Deadly Sins?"

"It's creepy."

"Yes, I suppose it is a little creepy. But I assure you, it's all for show. I wanted to make this a perfect moment of horror and suspense."

Court didn't really want to ask this question, but she had no choice. "Is Jon in one of the barrels?"

"Yes. Each one is filled with gasoline. I'm going to light the rags and listen as your fiancé burns alive."

She took another step forward, her thumb ready to power up the Taser. "Who else do you have?"

"Seth, Brandi, Alyssa, Maxine, Kristy, and Elijah."

"If the barrels are filled with gasoline, how are they breathing?"

The blowtorch sputtered in Ghoul's hand. "I left just enough room for them to take a breath. We need to hurry this along, before my flame runs out."

"Hurry what along?"

"I'll make a deal with you."

"No." She took another step forward, now ten feet away. "No deals."

"For every finger you let me burn off your hand, I'll let someone go. And don't forget about that blind man in the hallway. He counts."

"You're out of your fucking mind."

"I would say that has been made obvious a long time ago." He raised the blowtorch. The flame continued to sputter. "If you save everyone, including yourself, that would leave you with one finger. It will be hard to jerk off the bestselling author and warm him up before sex, but at least he would be alive."

Court had to make a move right now. "Give me a second to think about it."

"Sure thing," Ghoul said. He placed the blowtorch on the rag of the first barrel and lit it on fire. The rag blazed for a moment and fell into the drum. "Take all the time you need."

A horrific scream echoed. Whomever it was, called out for God as the barrel toppled back and forth. Ghoul twisted the small opening shut and moved to the next one.

"Stop!" she pleaded.

"Oh don't worry," Ghoul said, lighting the next rag. "The flame inside lasts for only a few seconds. When I cut off the oxygen so it die's out. The downside is that the poor bastard inside won't have much skin remaining."

The voice from the second barrel was female. Her plea for help became magnified with such a gruesome screech, it made Court nauseous.

"Please stop," Court moaned. She attempted to zap Ghoul with the Taser, but he easily knocked it out of her hand. It was a poor endeavor to save the remaining lives. The strength in her body and the willpower to fight could not be summoned. She had accepted that everyone would be dead in a few moments.

Even her.

Ghoul shoved her away. "I really can't remember which person is in what barrel. The first voice sounded deep. Maybe that was Seth. The second was definitely a young woman. I would say Kristy or Alyssa is now dead."

The male in the first drum continued to cry out in pain. No sound came from the second barrel.

Ghoul was about to light the third rag.

"Stop!" Court shouted. Tears poured from her eyes. She could not let this go on, even if it meant her own death. "Give me a chance to save them."

Ghoul grabbed her by the arm and led her to the rear section of the room. There was a worktable made of metal against the wall, rusted and covered with tools. He swiped his arm across the table and cleared it while grabbing her hand and holding it down. "Seven lives to save, including your own and that blind idiot in the hallway. Which fingers do you want me to burn off?"

Court squeezed her eyes closed. "Just get this over with," she cried.

Ghoul lowered the blowtorch on her thumb. "You're doing the right thing."

An explosion from behind knocked them to the floor.

### 99

The second barrel had ignited and launched across the room. Ghoul fell forward as the flame from the blowtorch seared the top of Court's index finger.

Out of rage, pain, and desperation, Court spun with her fist closed and landed a punch square on Ghoul's cheek. She could feel the bone crunch under her knuckles, forcing him to stumble backwards.

The blowtorch went out.

Court didn't hesitate. She connected a second blow in Ghoul's throat. This wasn't a misfire on her behalf, but rather a strategy to make sure this motherfucker couldn't breathe.

Ghoul dropped, gurgling with agony. He flopped like a fish that had been tossed on hot pavement, holding his neck and wheezing with small pockets of air. Court grabbed her Tasor, clicked the button, and pushed the electric blaze on his arm. Drool seeped from his mouth, eyes wide with terror.

"You are human," Court said through her teeth. She caught her breath, then zapped him again. "You bleed and feel pain. You're not a spirit or ghost." Once again, she sent another electric current through this body. Ghoul's eyes rolled in the back of his head. "Most importantly, your name is Daren Field...and you _can_ be killed."

Court pressed the Tasor on Ghoul's skull, keeping it firm on his burning skin until he stopped moving. His hands dropped to the floor and eyes became a dead gaze. She touched his neck to feel for a pulse.

No more future kills for Ghoul.

Court looked at the spilt barrel that toppled over from the explosion. Even though a portion of the skin had melted away, she didn't recognize the dead body.

The second barrel had been scattered about the room, along with body parts. The ceiling had shrapnel and what appeared to be a piece of bone.

Court tossed the Tasor on the table, grabbed a crowbar from the tools, and pried open the remaining five barrels.

When all the containers were open, Court discovered that none of the victims were anyone she knew. Only one person was alive. Amazingly, the woman was elderly.

"Who are you?" Court asked. She took a rag and wiped the gasoline from the woman's face.

"Betty Fetterman," she mumbled.

Court scooped her up and carried Betty away from the gasoline-filled room, down the hallway, when suddenly another explosion from the storage room shook the building, most likely caused by a remaining flame that ignited the spilt gasoline.

Court stumbled with Betty in her arms, but kept her balance enough to escape outside while wondering where Mier had gone.

The breeze in the air was revitalizing; the sun bright in the sky. Destruction could be seen for miles around Asheville.

Destiny was gone.

Court sat on the pavement, still holding Betty in her arms. "How long were you in that barrel?"

Betty curled like a baby snuggling next to her mother. "Last I remember, we were being evacuated."

"You live in the building?"

"Yes."

Court looked around. She didn't see any sign of Mier. "I'm going to take you to the hospital."

"A glass of water would be nice," Betty said, crawling out of Court's arms. "Or a bottle of scotch."

Court stood and helped Betty to her feet. "I need to find someone before we leave."

"Who?"

"Mier Templeton. He lives in the building as well."

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" Betty asked.

Court snapped her eyes in Betty's direction. "What do you mean?"

"Mier Templeton committed suicide last week."

"Was he blind?"

"Yes."

Court rubbed the sting from her eyes and tried to clear away the fog of confusion. "Was he an older gentleman, with a bald head?"

"No. He was a young stockbroker. Lost a ton of money during the economic meltdown and never recovered." Betty looked up. "He leaped from the top of the building. It's sad. Many people have jumped from this building."

Court pointed to the Hummer. "Let's go. I could use a scotch as well." She wrapped her arm around Betty. "Also, I have to find my fiancé."

### 100

At the hospital, a doctor treated the tip of Court's burnt finger and bandaged it. Afterwards, she begged to be released. The doctor didn't argue with her because the hospital was full of patients. As the search for more victims commenced, no rooms or beds would be left empty.

Raleigh was 250 miles away. She paid $6.00 a gallon to fill up the tank from some jerk gas attendant that was price gouging. Finally, she left Asheville.

Court was about an hour away when the signal on her phone returned. She called Jon.

No answer.

She called Seth.

"Hello?"

The sound of his voice sent chills along the skin of her arms and legs. "Seth?"

"Is this Court?"

"Yes. Are you okay?"

"Hanging in there. What's going on?"

"Are you home?"

"Yes."

"Brandi and Alyssa are with you?"

"Yes. What's wrong?"

Court leaned forward, one hand clutched to the steering wheel, the other squeezing the cell phone. "What about Maxine and Kristy?"

"I wanted to talk to you about that. I'm going to come clean."

"What?"

"I'm going to turn myself in."

"Why now?"

"It's the right thing to do."

"Seth, think about it. The FBI..."

"It's not open for debate."

Court rolled down the window, hoping the fresh air would keep her awake. "Have you heard from Jon?"

"No. Was he in North Carolina during the hurricane?"

_Good question,_ Court thought. "You're probably going to hear about this soon. I..." She couldn't find the words.

"What happened?" Seth asked.

Court hung up the cell phone and called Mike Willis. He didn't answer, so she left a message of the address where they could find what was left of Daren Field.

~

Four hours later she approached Raleigh. She thought about the possibility of finding Jon unharmed. If Ghoul had Jon's cell phone, then the chances of him being alive were slim.

She thought about Mier Templeton. Who was he? She didn't believe in spirits or ghosts, which left the only other possible answer: Mier lied about who he was.

Raleigh looked peaceful, with slight damage. In fact, the debris was minimal. As she drove by houses in Jon's neighborhood, people were outside examining the situation. A few power lines were down, trees toppled over, and the occasional damage to a roof. Nonetheless, Raleigh looked nothing like Asheville.

The gate to Jon's house had been broken open. Pieces were scattered, along with half the gate dangling by the hinges.

This wasn't done by a hurricane. Someone rammed the gate open.

Court sped up the driveway and saw a white GMC Canyon truck. She slid out of the Hummer and approached the other vehicle. Sure enough, the grill had been damaged, along with iron paint marks on the hood.

Without hesitating, Court sprinted up the porch stairs, kicked open the door, and went inside. The house was dark, with all the blinds pulled shut. Court went from room to room, but didn't find anyone.

She raced upstairs, inspecting the bathrooms, guest rooms, and Jon's bedroom.

Empty.

The bed was made, which meant Jon wasn't here. There was only one last place to check. The safe room, located behind a bookcase in Jon's bedroom. The only way inside was by using a remote that Jon kept on the nightstand. Court looked everywhere, but couldn't find it.

Possibly Jon took the remote with him into the safe room.

She attempted to move the bookcase, but to no avail. Court knew better. The whole purpose of a safe room was so that no one could get inside.

"Hey!" a voice shouted from the door.

Court grabbed the lamp with both hands and spun around. She then blew a sigh of relief.

It was Just Ray.

She placed the lamp back on the nightstand. "What are you doing here?"

Ray lifted a crowbar. "I came back last night before the hurricane."

"You did?"

"Rodney called me and said we should try to change Jon's mind."

Court pointed to the safe room. "Is he in there?"

Ray smiled. "Yep. So is Rodney. By the way, Jon' cell phone was stolen yesterday during an interview. Can you believe that?"

_I know who has the cell phone_ , Court thought. The real question was why did Ghoul let Jon go?

She brought her attention back on Ray. "Let me guess," Court said, staring at the bookcase. "The power is off and they cannot open the safe room door with the remote."

Ray laughed while shoving the crowbar into the wall. "Correct. I highly doubt this door will even budge."

"It won't," Court said. She knows all to well how indestructible the safe room was. "We'll just have to wait until the electricity turns back on."

Ray tossed the crowbar on the floor and stared at her. "Where have you been? And what happened to your finger?"

Court sat on the bed, tears welling up in her eyes. She was exhausted, relieved, and about ready to have an emotional breakdown. "Ghoul's dead."

"You killed him?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" Ray asked, sitting down next to her.

Court wiped the tears from her face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, Ghoul has done a pretty good job of hiding his identity."

Court shook her head. "The FBI figured out who he was. So did I." Her voice trailed off. "I'm telling you, I killed the right guy."

With a buzz, the power turned back on.

~

"No wicked man has been happy for long.

He may grow great, towering from the sky,

So great that his head reaches the clouds,

But he will be blown away like dust.

Those that used to know him,

Will wonder where he has gone.

He will vanish like a dream,

Like a vision at night...

And never be seen again." ~ _Job 20:5-8_

~

### Creative Writing or Certainty?

It was easy for Court to pitch the "self-defense" story to the FBI after they found what remained of Daren Field's corpse.

The world, for the moment, could rest easy. One more serial killer had been removed. Nevertheless, another Ghoul will arise someday. He could be a young boy, maybe only ten. As he grows into an adult, something will snap the merciful side of his brain and the boy will murder those who deserve to live. Perhaps, like all Ghoul's, he will have a special gift that prevents the innocent from fighting back.

Court gave a description of Mier Templeton, although she didn't expect the FBI to look for him. Other than telling a ghost story, Mier would remain a mystery that haunts only her memories.

Maxine said goodbye to everyone, then moved away. Court had tried to locate her, but hadn't been successful.

On Kristy's eighteenth birthday, she married Elijah. So much for bodyguards not becoming involved with their clients.

Seth turned himself in and pled guilty. Kristy testified at his hearing on his behalf. The judge sentenced him to five years in prison.

Brandi and Alyssa moved back to Cleveland, anxiously waiting for Seth to come home.

Mike Willis apologized to Jon for linking him to Ghoul. Mike has since retired from the FBI and has become a bodyguard for hire. He claims, "The money is better."

Rodney and Just Ray started their own bodyguard business in work from an office in Washington D.C.

Jon and Court were married in a private ceremony and spent their honeymoon at Poet's Cove, which helped them get over the fear that Ghoul would ever haunt them again while they prepared to spend the rest of their lives together in peace.

Jon Truss's new book, _Dead Guardian_ , sold over a million copies in less than a year. He had spoken once about a visit that he had from Ghoul. Jon never publicly gave a reason why Ghoul let him live, but the story certainly helped Jon's book sales.

Privately he told Court, "There are more future killers. What made Ghoul so complete was his ability to exploit the world. My life is a reminder that some die, some live. It's always up to Ghoul."

~

Court sat in front of the fire, gazing into the flame. Outside a snowstorm hissed against the windows.

Jon curled up next to her.

She kissed him on the head and wrapped her arms around his body. "How's the new book coming along?"

"Not sure if it's any good."

"You say that about all of the books you're writing. I think you're too hard on yourself."

"It's better than being cocky."

"True."

Jon sat up. "I was thinking about Mier Templeton."

"Really? Why now?"

"Thought he would make a good character."

"He lied about his name and told a ghost story. Not quite your thing."

Jon rubbed his fingers along her arm. "What if he really wasn't blind?"

Court opened her mouth, but then hesitated to speak. They hadn't discussed the day she killed Ghoul in two years. "So the character pretended to be blind. Why?"

Jon gazed at her. Shadows from the fire danced on his skin. "What if Mier Templeton took over the spirit of the stock broker who committed suicide?"

Court gave him a nervous smile. "I've never heard you talk about supernatural fiction before."

"True. How about this. Both Mier Templeton and Daren Field were manipulated by a _waking suggestion_."

Court's heart missed a beat, then felt like it completely stopped. "Are you talking about what really happened or a plot for your book?"

Jon ignored her. "If that's the case, then Ghoul could be sitting here and you wouldn't know it."

Her breath became ragged, veins pounding with fear. "Is he sitting right in front of me? Have you been Ghoul all along?"

Jon shifted closer to her. "I love this moment."

A tear trickled from her eye. "What do you mean?"

"You love me. However, right at this very second a part of you is afraid of me. Your mind is spinning, unable to determine what is real and what is made up. Your reaction is why I write stories."

Court took a long time to speak. "What if this was your book," she asked, her voice staggered with terror. "How would you end it?"

Jon cocked his head and gave her a vile smirk. "That's easy. I would end it just like this..."

Written by Jon Truss

Co-Authored

by

Ron Knight

