Chapter Thirty Three

“I swear to God, it was like something out of a horror movie,” Goldie said. “He drugged me. When I woke up, I couldn’t think straight at first. The musty smell was the worst, because it was obvious I was underground. I felt so claustrophobic, like I’d never really breathe again. People only build those things for canning or killing,” she laughed bitterly. “I felt like such a dumbass for letting myself get into that situation. I thought he really liked me, after we spent so much time talking at the club that night.” She frowned and studied her hands. “We talked about a lot of things.” She shrugged and grimaced before adding, “I thought maybe it was a scene. You know, a roleplay. Some people are into that and when I woke up in that horrible place, I thought maybe he was into that sort of thing. But when I take a step back and really think about it, I don’t know. I mean, what if I hadn’t been able to stop him, hadn’t been able to get away?”

A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away impatiently. “He told me he had wanted Queen Bee and only settled for me when he realized he couldn’t have her. Can you believe, that bothered me? How crazy is that? I mean, I would never have wished that basement on her, but, damn. How could I be so dumb? So naïve?”

Goldie and all the other drag queens liked to be referred to as women, and Melanie had never seen them any other way. The terrible thing about any woman being assaulted was how easily she went from victim to accused. Sadly, the accusations often came from within. Goldie had always been a woman in a man’s body so why would her emotions be different from any other woman’s?

One thing was for sure: her abductor wasn’t suffering from the blame game. He was perfecting his game, one victim at a time.

“It’s not your fault,” Melanie said as she gently placed her hand on Goldie’s forearm. “And I think there’s every reason to think you had a narrow escape from someone who is truly evil for evil’s sake. He’s twisted, Goldie. He’s a predator. He studies people to learn their weaknesses, their frailties. That’s how he was able to mess with your head so bad that, even now, you can’t shake it. You’re doubting yourself—don’t. Listen, I’m not sure how much you remember from your ordeal, but we need for you to try to show us where he took you.”

Goldie closed her eyes and swallowed hard. The attack had lasted just one night, but her fear of the dark would last a lifetime. “I think I can do that. Once I got on the main road, I figured out where I was. I was so afraid he’d come after me, I didn’t remember much about how I got back to town. But I did. Ross made me file a police report, but I…I didn’t give them a lot of details. I was still reeling, you see.” She picked at her gold nail polish and kept her head down. “So they still have no idea where the place is. I told them I’d been kidnapped and couldn’t remember much.”

She would help the Wentworths all she could. If she could keep him from doing this to someone else, she knew she could redeem herself. But she would never look at people, or herself, the same way. Any innocence that had remained within her was gone now and had been replaced by fear and distrust.

Suddenly a big, warm hand covered hers and squeezed lightly. “I doubt he’ll be taking anyone else back there, but we may be able to find evidence that will lead us to him. I’m just glad you got away, Goldie. We both are,” Charles said softly. “Okay, we’ll need to head out now. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”

Goldie knew him well enough to know he wasn’t the sentimental type, so she was touched that he cared about whether she lived or died. The thought that she’d barely escaped a serial killer terrified her. The thought that he was still out there, terrified her even more. The last thing she wanted to do was to ever go back to that hellhole, but she wasn’t about to be the cause of someone else’s death because she was too afraid to do what needed to be done.

Charles excused himself and crossed the room to speak to her boss, informing him that Goldie would be leaving due to a prior commitment. He reached for his wallet, looking Ross in the eye as he peeled off five crisp one hundred-dollar bills that looked like they’d just come off the press.

“Goldie’s leaving early. Here, this should cover the money she would have made tonight.” There was only a nod from Ross, who fully understood that Charles wasn’t asking his permission. Men like Charles Wentworth III weren’t accustomed to hearing the word no.

Melanie and Goldie were already waiting by the door. As the three of them walked to the SUV, Melanie leaned in so only her husband could hear her. “That was sweet.”

“I’ll be paying her, too,” he answered his wife quietly. “She still has bills to pay.”

Charles pressed the key fob and they all got in the SUV. After several minutes of silence as he navigated the city streets, he reluctantly shared his thoughts. “I’ve debated telling you this, Goldie, but the police found another body. They think she died sometime after you escaped.”

The gasp from the backseat was audible, complete with a dramatic hand gesture to her neck as she absorbed the news that she hadn’t been able to save anyone but herself. Goldie leaned back in the seat and looked out the window, her eyes vacant and unfocused. Nothing like a heaping dose of survivor’s guilt to make her feel like more of an outcast than she already did.

“What did he take from you?” Charles looked in the mirror as he waited for an answer.

Besides my peace of mind? She shook her head, thoroughly disheartened. “I can’t find my dad’s Zippo lighter. I kept it after he died even though we weren’t all that close. He always wanted a daughter. Guess I wasn’t good enough or close enough,” she said with a flippant wave of her hand, in an obvious effort to cover the pain of being born different.

“Trophies like that are going to help us catch this bastard.”

“Who was she? The body, I mean? Who did he kill?”

“A prostitute.” Charles left out the part about watching the woman’s death on the flash drive. He wanted her to be aware that she was still in danger, but he didn’t want to terrify her.

“Okay, turn here. Right, turn right!” There was an urgency in Goldie’s voice, as if missing the turn would dash any hope of catching the killer.

The sound of the tires going over a dirt road brought the realization they were far enough away from civilization to be in serious trouble if the guy was still here and armed.

“Did he have a gun?” Charles asked quietly.

“He wasn’t armed from what I could tell. Then again, I was so drugged he didn’t need to be.”

“Probably a date rape drug.”

“Well, it wasn’t his first rodeo, that’s for sure. The bastard probably buys it in bulk.”

They got out of the SUV, each closing their door as quietly as they could.

“It’s this way. Damn it, I should have worn different shoes.” Goldie couldn’t help but think about Queen Bee’s knight in shining armor and the way he’d rescued her and her shoes. She shook her head with a frown as they ventured into the nearby woods. It was odd, the things that popped into your head when you were under stress.

Goldie wondered if she’d ever have someone to protect her from the monsters that lurked in the shadows. Despite her jealousy, she was still happy that her friend had found love. It gave her hope that there was love out there somewhere for her, too.

She focused on the task at hand and soon found the thin panel of wood that had been so carefully concealed beneath a carefully strewn mound of grass and leaves. “Here it is,” she said excitedly, kicking the brush from the crude wooden door.

“Don’t touch it.” Charles moved her off to the side and pulled his Glock from his holster. Goldie hadn’t noticed it until now.

He jerked the wooden door back and yelled down into the hole even though he knew the man was long gone. Melanie couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for her husband who was more than capable of protecting both women. He went in first and quickly confirmed the space was safe for the women to enter.

The same musty smell hit Goldie’s nostrils, bringing back the memory of her nightmarish ordeal. She would never look at a basement or a cellar the same again.

The three stood in silence. There on the wall was a note, crudely held in place by the business end of a broken steak knife.

Charles read the words aloud, his voice flat. “You’re too late. Ha ha.”