46
10:00 p.m.
If Madelyn hadn’t answered her text when she did, there would have been hell to pay. She’d said she would arrive within the next five minutes. Madelyn was the only other person who knew the location of the testing facility.
She was also the only person in this world that Pamela trusted.
Pamela Blume was not a patient person, nor did she trust easily. Despite turning sixty-two next month, age had not mellowed her. Orson should have understood her need to reach beyond his wildest dreams.
Men were never really satisfied. Pamela had lived in Orson’s shadow in this Podunk town for more than thirty years—since she lost the grant for her first research endeavor. Losing that one wasn’t so bad, but every subsequent application was overlooked or turned down. Her work had been pushed aside repeatedly for that of her male peers. Eventually she had realized what she needed to do. Her adoring husband had gladly turned over large chunks of his inheritance without question to make her happy. Five years of risky studies had been required to reap the attention she deserved. Her published works were now considered some of the most respected in the field of Cognitive Science.
The results of the secret work she had done all those years ago had garnered the attention of the military. They wanted soldiers who would kill without thought. Insurgents who would go in killing without blinking, no matter the target. Pamela had chosen the least likely of humans to turn into killers, and then she’d chosen targets who wouldn’t be missed. The homeless and the destitute—the parasites of society. That research had made her career.
But the real return on her investment had come from those whose salacious desires could only be sated by watching the most heinous of acts. With Madelyn’s help, Pamela had found a market deep in the darkest parts of the World Wide Web that allowed her the luxury of no longer needing her husband’s money or the respect of her pompous peers.
Dear Orson’s initial investment had made it all possible. But Pamela most appreciated his introducing her to Madelyn. She smiled. She loved Madelyn so. Now that Pamela was financially secure, the two of them were relocating to Thailand—a place where they could live the rest of their lives as they wished. But first they would need to ensure that any trouble from the past could not follow them. Madelyn’s idea to frame Orson had been ingenious.
Before their plans were finalized, Orson discovered Pamela’s secret files. Worse, he spoke to that fucking old hag who filed the lawsuit against her protégé, Dr. McLarty. In Pamela’s darkest moment, Madelyn had again taken charge. Using Conway, she set in motion McLarty’s fatal accident, neatly tying up that loose end. Under Madelyn’s direction Conway abducted three young women, just as he had all those years ago. Every single piece of evidence, even Pamela’s secret files, were arranged to point to Orson as the perpetrator of those evil deeds.
Her dear, oblivious husband would have been the perfect scapegoat. The plan would have worked beautifully, too, had Orson not killed himself before she was ready for him to die.
If only the old fool hadn’t decided he couldn’t live with what his discovery meant: his wife had committed these atrocities right under his nose. He would be dragged through the mud in the courts and the love of his life would be taken from him. So he’d killed himself.
Pamela could fix that problem. When she was ready, she would burn the contents of the safe room, save certain evidence and his suicide note, along with his body and then the house. His charred remains would be found, the only residual evidence would point to what he’d done and Pamela would be far away.
Then Conway had to go stupid. Madelyn had done all she could to cover any tracks he may have left. Men were such fools. He’d risked everything for sex. Idiot. Again, not an unsalvageable situation. Any videos the police were able to collect from Conway’s apartment would only reinforce the theory that he was working with Orson.
Then Ima had come face-to-face with test subject #1. Joanna Guthrie was here and she had joined forces with the FBI agent. She could very well ruin everything. Time was running out.
Pamela stared at the monitor and the three women who were nearing the end of their young lives. Unlike all the other studies, this time no one would survive.
Now it was time for Pamela and Madelyn to go. As soon as she arrived, they were leaving. No more waiting. The risk was far too great at this point. The test subjects would die and that was that. All evidence would lead back to Orson. Since there was no time to burn the house as she’d planned, the police would determine that Conway had been doing Orson’s dirty work for him and, upon finding his body, had decided to follow through with their latest venture without his partner.
Pamela shut down the monitors, set the system to erase all data and picked up her small briefcase that contained everything she needed for her and Madelyn to begin their new lives. She checked to see that her stun gun was there—just in case—then she left the small office behind, moving through the dark corridors by memory. The area had once been a disaster shelter for the patients housed in the building, but more than half a century ago it had been deemed unsafe. Pamela had turned the long forgotten space into a state-of-the-art lab.
At the end of the main corridor the old staircase brought her up to the tiny ramshackle place that had once been a guard shack. She closed the secret door that blended perfectly into the worn tile floor.
Madelyn’s Jag was waiting outside in the darkness.
Anticipation making her pulse flutter, Pamela hurried around to the passenger side and slid into the seat. “Let’s go.”
“I was expecting a man.”
The blonde woman who stared at her, a gun in her hand, was very young and the look in her eyes told Pamela she was more than a little mentally unstable. Pamela’s first instinct was to run but the initial shock of the situation made her hesitate. “Who the hell are you? How did you get here?”
The woman shrugged. “It was easy. I just checked her navigation history and selected the most logical of her frequented locations.”
“Where is Madelyn?”
“Dead. I killed her.”
Pamela bit back the scream but she could not contain the moan. When she could breathe again, she demanded, “Who are you?”
“I’m Sylvia. You might remember my mother, Ellen Carson? She told me all the things you did to her...what you made her do. Now she’s dead.”
“I’m sorry for your loss but that is not my fault.” Pamela filled her voice with uncertainty and adopted a pleading expression. “It was my husband who did all those things to your dear mother and the others. I learned of the evil he had done and—”
“No.” Sylvia shook her head. “That’s not true. You see, right after I killed him I watched the videos my father had on his computers. He recorded all the times that your friend Madelyn yelled at him. You’re working with Madelyn, that makes you the one.”
Stupid bastard. Miles Conway had raped many of the test subjects but Madelyn hadn’t told Pamela until after he was dead.
Pamela should have killed him herself years ago.
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Your mother volunteered to be a part of my program.” With nothing but the car’s dash putting off soft light, Pamela was able to inch her right hand into her case. “I really am sorry your mother died.”
“She didn’t just die,” the girl shouted. “She killed herself because of what you did to her. And I know she didn’t volunteer for anything. That piece of shit who raped her took her. Her friend Joanna figured out who he and the blonde woman who helped him were so it was easy for me to find them. I planned their murders for weeks. I made sure they both got exactly what they deserved.”
Joanna Guthrie. That relentless bitch had spoiled everything. She had walked away with her life. What else did she want? Fury swelled inside Pamela. Madelyn was dead and it was Joanna’s fault. She would pay for taking Madelyn from her.
“Wait,” Pamela said suddenly. “Don’t you want to rescue the missing girls first? If you kill me, they’ll die. I’m the only one left who knows where they are. Your mother would never want you to do that.”
Carson looked like a deer trapped in the headlights for a moment. “Show me where they are. Right now.”
“You’ll have to follow me.”
“Just remember I’ve already killed two people,” Carson warned. “I’ll kill you, too. I don’t care how many have to die before I’m finished.”
“I’ll do whatever you say,” Pamela promised.
The girl didn’t know it yet, but she was walking into her own grave.
Joanna Guthrie was going to die, too.
She had taken the one person Pamela truly loved—nothing else really mattered.