Ripped Page 6

  That was just stupid.

  But Ice did use the furnace to burn other things—clothes he wore, fabric he put down to catch the mess, etc.

  Ice was not the kind of guy that you called if you wanted a simple, easy, clean hit. He didn’t like to simply shoot someone in the head. He liked to take his time. He enjoyed pain, enjoyed stretching it out.

  He was a pretty disturbed individual.

  And, coming from me, that’s saying something.

  But it would be stupid for Ice to go to that kill site, because he knew that I knew about it.

  Besides, he wasn’t going to kill Starling—

  Well, Shell could be right about that. He might kill her, might break our deal. Leaving him with a pretty live girl for a couple days was like locking an alcoholic in a room with a bottle of whiskey and expecting him not to drink it.

  So, it was better that I find him as soon as possible.

  But I didn’t know where to look for him.

  If he didn’t use that kill site, then there were a handful of other places he’d gone, but he’d never gone to any of them more than once. I could check all of them, I supposed, but I really wanted a better plan of attack than that. I needed something to narrow it down.

  I clicked open a text file and quickly typed out the names of the other places. I needed to look at them, all in one place.

  Now, I would try to eliminate them.

  Shell gingerly sat down on the couch, several feet away from me. She perched on the edge. “Um, do you—”

  “Stop.” I held up a finger. “Let’s not have that conversation, okay?”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything about…” She sucked in breath through her nose. “What are you doing right now?”

  “I’m trying to eliminate places that Ice could have gone.”

  “Eliminate them? I don’t understand.”

  “Look, he used to use a kill site all the time, but he wouldn’t go there, because he knows that I know about it, so he might have used some other places, places that aren’t familiar to either him or me. I just have to try to figure out which ones are likely. So, if I can eliminate a few, that would help.”

  “But you know about these too,” she said.

  “What?”

  “You said that he wouldn’t go to the first site because you know about it, but if you know about all the sites, does that matter?”

  I furrowed my brow. “Of course it matters.” But now I wasn’t quite sure. I was starting to think about it a little differently. I dragged a hand over my face, rubbing my jaw. “Oh, hang on. Hang on. He would know that I wouldn’t expect him to go to that site. Maybe he’d go there anyway.”

  “He would?”

  I nodded, grinning. “Yeah. Because it’s so obvious that it makes it the perfect, brilliant hiding place.”

  Shell nodded slowly. “I guess I can see that. But would he know that you would know that he would think that and then—”

  “Stop it, you’re just going to confuse yourself.” I got up off the couch. “All right, you stay here, and I’ll go check it out—”

  “What?” She got up too, moving into my path, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m going with you.”

  “That’s stupid. It won’t be safe.” I started forward, moving around her. “You stay here, and I’ll bring you back your sister, and then you’ll be so grateful that you’ll be begging to suck my cock.”

  She moved too, blocking me. “It’s not safe for me if you’re not here. What if he isn’t at that kill site at all? What if he’s sitting around watching us, waiting for you to leave me alone so that he can snatch me up? I got the impression that he wanted to kill me for reasons other than just money, if you know what I mean.”

  I tapped my chin. She might be right. The truth was that Shell might be safer with me than she would be anywhere else. I nodded once. “Okay. But you don’t get in my way, and you do exactly what I tell you to. Got it?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Geez.”

  “Exactly what I tell you to,” I said in a low voice.

  She bit down on her bottom lip.

  Damn if she wasn’t getting me all worked up again.

  Focus, I told myself. Focus.

  * * *

  Shell

  The place where Ripper took me was a gutted apartment building out on the edge of everything. There was nothing else on the block except a convenience store that advertised its cigarette prices on big signs. The doors to the apartment building were ripped off, the windows busted out. The place was covered in graffiti and scattered beer bottles.

  Ripper made me walk behind him. He said that I needed to be careful where I stepped, because if I caught some broken glass, the crunching of my feet could tip off Ice to the fact that we were there.

  I almost wished he’d left me after all.

  I didn’t like the pressure.

  Anyway, I spent all my time watching his feet and choosing the steps I would take.

  At the beginning, we were outside the building, walking over the concrete of the sidewalk, and that was good, so I just made sure to step on the concrete, avoiding anything else that I saw, whether it was a beer can or a discarded cigarette butt. I didn’t think that would make noise, but I didn’t want to find out either.

  Then we entered through an empty doorway. The door was lying on the ground, dented metal, with the words Devon and Gabby 4-evah spray painted on it.

  It was darker inside. Harder to see the floor.

  And we were going down steps, so I had to be even more careful about where I put my feet. I not only didn’t want to make any noise. I didn’t want to lose my balance either.

  It didn’t help that Ripper moved way too fast, picking his way around the trash that littered the steps like a dancer or something.

  I went as quickly as I could, but he was always three or four steps below me, and when the steps would round the corner—as they did often since the steps were enclosed in a tall square box that ran up and down the whole building—I would lose sight of him completely.

  When that happened, I’d panic, and I’d try to speed up.

  But then I would see a pile of shattered glass from one of the busted windows, and I’d have to course-correct to avoid stepping on it, and then I’d slow down, and by the time I got around the corner, Ripper would be practically ready to turn the next corner.

  My palms were starting to sweat.

  We went down all the way to the bottom floor, which was two stories underground.

  As we descended, it got darker and darker.

  Ripper got further and further ahead of me, because I had to go slower, because I couldn’t see well. All of the litter on the steps looked like indistinguishable shadowy piles, and I couldn’t tell what was safe to step on and what wasn’t.

  I was rounding a corner, and Ripper was so far ahead of me that I couldn’t see him at all, and I was so worried that I stepped forward without looking.

  Just once.

  My foot hit a beer can, and it fell down the steps, turning over and over, hitting each step on its way down, the clanging noise filling the stairwell.

  I cringed, stopping in place.

  I was certain that I’d done it now. I’d clued Ice in to the fact that we were coming, and I had gotten Starling killed.

  Right now, he was probably gutting her to death, cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West—

  No, that was too kiddie and weak, and there was no way that Ice would allow himself to seem silly in that way. He was serious business, and even though he wore a mask, I had seen in his eyes that he took a giddy glee in causing pain, and my sister was with that man, and it was all my fault—

  “What the hell?” Ripper grabbed me on the landing between strips of stairs and pressed me into the wall. “Didn’t I tell you not to make noise?”

  “I’m sorry,” I gasped.

  “You may have just fucked everything up,” he whispered.

  “I know that. You think I don’t kn
ow that?” I was in desperate agony over it.

  He seemed to sense my distress. His grip didn’t loosen, but it changed somehow. He cocked his head in the darkness. “Don’t let it happen again.”

  I nodded. “Sorry,” I said again.

  “You better stay closer to me,” he said.

  “You go too fast.”

  He sighed. “Fine.” He let go of me, abruptly, and I felt strangely lost without his closeness. He started down the next block of stairs, going slower this time.

  I stayed right behind him, putting my feet in the places where his had vacated. I gripped the walls, cold cement blocks, rough against my fingertips.

  We went down one more level, and then there were no more stairs.

  A door stood half open. It was metal, the paint on it cracked and peeling. There was a glass square window in the top, the glass crisscrossed with tiny wires.

  Ripper put his finger to his lips.

  I nodded.

  He eased the door open wider by a few inches.

  There was a groaning creak.

  He let go of the door. Turned sideways. Squeezed through the opening instead.

  I sucked in breath, trying to make myself as small as possible. I followed him, moving through the same way that he had.

  Inside the room, it was hot and smoky.

  I fought the urge to cough. I blinked hard, my eyes watering. What the hell? Was Ice burning the place down?

  Ripper grabbed me by the arm, yanking me along with him. “It’s the furnace,” he whispered in my ear.

  “What furnace?” I said.

  “Shh,” he hissed.

  I swallowed.

  His breath tickled my neck. His voice was soft, right at my ear. “There’s a furnace down here. Ice likes to burn things he used during kills. Clothes. Ropes. Whatever.”

  I was filled with fresh horror. Did that mean that Starling was—

  “It doesn’t mean she’s dead,” he whispered. “He’s fucking with us.”

  We fought our way through a vast room, which seemed empty and dark, only filled with smoke and heat.

  Then Ripper collided with something. It landed on the floor with a crash, deafening.

  I couldn’t help but feel smug. Now who was making noise?

  “Fuck,” Ripper muttered. He picked up what had fallen over. It was a chair. I could see that now. A metal one, like they set up at weddings and functions at the fire department.

  A piece of paper was attached to the back of the chair.

  Ripper tore it off. “Too slow, Cade,” he read aloud. “You just missed me. Time for a new site anyway.” Ripper crumpled the paper into a ball. “Damn it.”

  “Who’s Cade?” I said.

  “I’m Cade,” he said. “Cade Davies. His name’s Frazier Smith. You can see why he goes by Ice.”

  Cade was a nicer name than Frazier, that was true.

  “He had her here,” said Cade. “He had her here, and he came back to take her away, because he knew I’d come after him here. He’s got the furnace going because he burned any remnants of himself. He’s just cleaned the site. He’s not coming back here. Ever.”

  “So…” I hugged myself. “What now?”

  “Now,” he said, “we’ve just won ourselves a trip back to square one. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling my heart sink.

  Cade took me by the elbow. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Shell

  “Should we stay here?” I was turning around in the kitchen of my apartment. “I mean, I don’t advertise where I live or anything, but I don’t think it would be that difficult to track me down.”

  “It’s three in the morning,” Cade said, leaning on the kitchen island. “I think we’d better get some sleep if we want to be any good on this.”

  “But what about Starling? Is Ice killing her right now?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “He took the trouble to move her, so he’s sticking to the deal. He’s keeping her alive. I think we’ve got time to track him down.”

  “But how do you know that?”

  “If he’d already killed her, he would have let us know,” said Cade. “He would have rubbed my face in it, made fun of me for thinking that there could ever be anything like honor between people like us. He wouldn’t string us on. He’s not exactly a patient person.”

  “But that’s exactly why I’m worried.”

  “No, I know,” he said. “But it’s late. We’ve done all we can for now.”

  “No, that’s not good enough,” I said. “If something happens to Starling, it’s going to be my fault.”

  “How do you reckon, love?” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Near as I can figure, Starling brought this on herself. Not that I’m saying that she deserves this, mind you. I’m not saying that at all. I’m just saying, she’s the one who decided to have sex for money, with a known terrorist supporter, no less. She’s the one who babbled to every news channel in the universe. She might have been too innocent to understand what she was doing to herself, but it’s still definitely on her, not on you.”

  I shook my head. He didn’t understand. “She didn’t used to be like this, you know.”

  “Like what?”

  “Trashy,” I said. “No respect for herself. I mean, I get that she’s making more money than I’d ever make servicing the prince and all, but some things are worth more than money.”

  He furrowed his brow. “You think you’d be paid less for servicing the prince?”

  I felt myself flush. “That’s not what I meant. I meant she’s making more money servicing the prince than I could ever make doing anything at all. Doing what I do now.”

  He eyed me. “What is it that you do?”

  I felt self-conscious. “I’m, um, an artist. I draw webcomics?” It came out like a question, as if I wanted him to confirm something. That he’d heard of webcomics, that I actually did it, that webcomics were art… I don’t know. “And I pick up some hours at a restaurant waiting tables to make ends meet. But the comics are taking off a little bit. I’m making some money at it.” I felt the need to protest this. Being paid for drawing validated it, elevated it to something higher than a sad little hobby.

  “I wondered about the pictures in your bedroom,” he said.

  “When did you see the pictures in my bedroom?”

  He looked away, clearing his throat. “You showed it to me earlier.”

  “I definitely didn’t.” I put my hands on my hips. “How’d you find me tonight anyway? You just showed up at the place where I was supposed to meet Ice. What were you doing there?”

  He pushed away from the kitchen island and opened the refrigerator. “I’m feeling a little hungry. This pizza okay to eat?”

  “No, that’s my roommate’s and don’t change the subject.” I squeezed between him and the refrigerator, shutting it with my back. “You were following me, weren’t you?”

  He shrugged, flashing me a grin, his eyes twinkling. “What if I was?”

  “You spied on me in my bedroom?”

  “No.” He made a face as if what I was saying was crazy.

  I glared at him.

  He went over to one of the cabinets. He opened it. “I’m guessing that all the stuff on the shelf labeled Celia belongs to your roommate?”

  “Stop trying to change the subject.”

  “Your roommate has way more food than you.”

  “She just buys it and doesn’t eat it. I’m home more than she is. I actually feed myself here. She works and gets takeout.” This was a stupid conversation that we were having. What did it matter whether I had more food here or not? “Look, if you’re hungry, I have stuff.”

  “I’m looking at what you have,” he said. “It’s not much.”

  “Why did you follow me?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know. I… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  Warmth rushed through me
in spite of myself. “Really?”

  He stepped closer to me, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I know that everything is insane right now. I know you’re worried about your sister, and I know that I haven’t been…” He swallowed.

  I looked up at him, searching his eyes.

  “But whatever this is between us…” He gestured back and forth and him and then me. And then he gave me his lopsided grin. “We should, uh, do something about it, don’t you think?”

  I smiled back. I reached up to touch his cheek.

  His voice went lower, gravelly. “I’m sorry about what happened between us earlier. I was just so wound up—”

  The light in the hallway suddenly came on.

  Cade and I turned to see that Celia was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

  “Oh,” I said. “Did we wake you?”

  She grimaced a little—an expression that said we had woken her, but she felt bad for pointing it out, but was doing it anyway. “Kind of.” She was wearing her robe over her nightgown and her hair was up in a severe ponytail. I’d never actually seen her pajamas. That was how not close we were. We each had our own bathrooms, and she was always dressed by the time she got to the kitchen in the morning. Maybe not on the weekends, but I was always working on the weekends, pulling double shifts at the restaurant. Celia looked Cade over. “Who’s this?”

  “Uh…” I didn’t know how to respond to that.

  “I get that you’re going through stuff with your ex and your sister and being kidnapped and everything, and maybe that makes you want to go pick up random guys at the bar—”

  “No, it’s not like that,” I said. “Cade’s helping me find Starling. He’s, um, a private detective.”

  He raised his eyebrows at me, but he couldn’t contradict me without making it seem weird.

  “A private detective? Really?” Celia gave him an appraising glance.

  “He’s staying here to protect me,” I said. “On the couch.”

  Cade gave me a vaguely annoyed look. “The couch, hmm?”

  “I’ll just go get you some blankets,” I said.

  Celia smiled at Cade. “Well, it is nice to have someone here in case either of us is in danger…”