Текст книги "Grace Street"

Автор книги: Ella Dominguez

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

18: Obsession

Back in her apartment and in bed, Elsa rolled onto her side and eyed Victor’s manuscript that was on her bedside table. Reaching a hand out, she touched it like it was a long lost friend. It held so much information; some of it useful, a great amount of it disturbing, and all of it intriguing. Now that her weekend with Mr. Black was cancelled, she would have plenty of time to read and she had every intention on finishing it and plotting out her course with Victor. She was going to break through to him if it killed her.

She dreamt of Mr. Black that night and his lightless, unfathomable eyes stabbing into her. Her sleep was restless. Between the bad dreams and the pain and heat throbbing in her thighs, she got only a few good hours of rest. Tired of the ache in her thighs, she woke early on Saturday to take more pain medication.

After eating breakfast, she read through the rest of Chapter Four. It was by far her favorite Chapter, even if she did detest what Jordan had done to his family. Victor may have thought he was ‘helping’ Jordan, but the fact was that Victor learned a lot about himself during their eight weeks together. It seemed to her that Jordan didn’t need help at all, other than to learn to accept who and what he was: a gay man. She also couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the man for feeling as if he had to live a life of lies. And his poor wife, she had no idea that the man she loved, married, and bore children to was only pretending.

She suddenly felt a bond with the unknown woman. Maybe Elsa, too, was a blind fool for thinking that Victor was someone else when really, he was just pretending to be a nice guy and leading her on. Well, a nice guy on the rarest of occasions.

Still fascinated with Mr. Black’s encounter with Jordan, she reread his final thoughts.

Chapter 4

Closing Thoughts:

All things test subject related must come to an end eventually. You have satiated my curiosity and it is time to move on. Our time together will not be forgotten any time soon nor will the feeling of your strong embrace. I truly hate to send you on your way as I will miss our intense fuck sessions, but it all boils down to my inability to help you, though it’s not for lack of trying on my part. Getting you to accept who you are has proven too monumental a task for the both of us. You will never admit to yourself or your family who you really are despite my less than ethical means of trying to make that happen.

I wish you no ill will, but rather, I hope someday you can fully acknowledge your true sexuality. Life is too short to do otherwise. This was a learning experience for me as well and I know with certainty that I cannot refute who I am any more than you can reject your feelings toward other men. Largely due to this liaison, I understand on a deeper level the attraction and connection felt between same sex partners, the shared sentiments, likes and dislikes, etc.

Will I take on another male test subject? I have no inclination to do so at this time. I prefer the company of a woman and everything that the female body and mind offers me. Namely, allowing me to live up to my full potential as a dominant male and, quite frankly, my thirst for pussy.

Not that you didn’t permit me to exert my power over you or hinder my dominance, C4. Quite the contrary; the control and authority you allowed me were compelling in their own right. I owned every fuckable inch of you during our time together and there is no denying that I will miss and dream of your ass and mouth often.

That being said, I am not opposed to the idea of taking on another male for experimental purposes as I believe in always keeping my options open, especially if it means information can be gained while my twisted needs are met.

The rest of Saturday afternoon and evening was spent with her nose buried in Mr. Black’s chronicles. Elsa found Chapter Three to be spoiled and temperamental, and she had a difficult time connecting with this particular ‘subject.’ She didn’t even feel remotely sorry for what Mr. Black had put the woman through, including caging her at one point. It was clear to see, at least to Elsa, that Anissa didn’t want to be helped. She simply wanted Victor Laurenzo’s full and undivided attention. That part Elsa could understand and sympathize with completely.

As she read each Chapter and worked her way to the beginning of where it all started, it was fascinating to see Mr. Black’s lack of experience show itself. Whereas he was confident with his methods and punishment in Chapter Seven, in Chapter Three, he questioned himself and even his motives. He even tended to be more lenient with her than the later Chapters.

Annoyed with Anissa, she skimmed most of her notes. Just about ready to give up and jump to the end, she was jolted when she came upon a riveting and telling paragraph.

Weekend 6:

The morning started as per usual – a fair cock sucking followed by a less than memorable fucking. I find myself becoming bored with you. Your antics are never-ending, your tantrums continue when some perceived wrong has been perpetrated on you or you haven’t gotten your way… Blah, blah, blah. This has all been said before. Why am I keeping you around?

Your overreaction Sunday night put things into perspective for me. When I spoke of our time coming to an end, you hinted at ending your life. Was your threat real? You’ve cried wolf so many times about so many other things, I have no idea. Nor do I care. However, the question lingers in my mind: do I really hold that kind of power over you? It’s a frightening and intoxicating thought.

I can’t help but wonder if this is how my father felt when he did those heinous things – Godly. If I had said the word go , would you have obeyed and slit your wrists? Something deep inside of me wanted to tell you, yes, go ahead, do it , just so I could watch you slowly bleed out. I fully realize that my disturbing thoughts are not to be taken lightly, yet there is no one I can speak with about these feelings. If I admitted any of this, I would be cast out of my job and labeled as psychotic. Or worse, a sociopath. But then, one bad seed breeds another. In my case, I got a double dose of bad.

There had been no mention of Victor’s father anywhere in the information that Nick had found and nothing of him up to this point in his writings. Elsa’s empty stomach gurgled and she suddenly felt nauseous. Had he been abused so badly that morbid and devious thoughts inundated him? Then to work in the field that he chose? Wouldn’t that only make matters worse?

She began to quickly try to rationalize his thoughts, for her own understanding and acceptance. He was a criminal profiler so maybe he was overworked and stressed. Perhaps the nature of his employment had proven to be too much for his psyche to handle after having been abused as a child. If only she could just ask him to clarify things. Hell, she was only guessing that he had been abused. Maybe he hadn’t been.

She looked around her apartment with spots in her vision. Not having eaten all day, staring at the words on the pages and trying to maintain her sanity for hours on end had taken its toll on her. She stood and her back cracked loudly, reminding her that in addition to all of the above, she hadn’t moved other than to relieve her bladder and to change her dressings.

Pacing in front of her window to get circulation back into her legs, she was struck with the idea that there was a chance that Victor had the same disturbing feelings about her. But her Chapter hadn’t been written yet. His thoughts were all in the personal journal he kept near to him at all times. If only she could get a hold of it, but she knew that was an impossibility. She was lucky to have read the small portion she did without being caught.

She was on borrowed time as far as that was concerned and she knew it. When and if Victor ever viewed the video footage, she would pay dearly. But if he ever found out she had his precious document? Elsa became light-headed thinking about it. She didn’t dare think about what kind of hell there would be to pay if that ever became known.

***

The remainder of Friday night for Victor had been spent in the FBI office catching up with emails and work related issues. He crashed on a couch in the lounge area for nearly four hours and woke early Saturday feeling and looking like hell. Elsa’s face intermixed with the ghastly images from the Cambridge murders had filled his thoughts all fucking night. He was tired of the nightmares jerking him out of sleep. As hard as he tried to pretend like the nature of his work and his actions against his Chapters didn’t affect him, the unbearable ache in his chest solidified his ever-growing self-loathing.

Late morning was spent in a sleep-deprived daze having conversations that he couldn’t even recall. He eventually made it home but not until early afternoon. When he walked up the long path, his eyes were bleary from the long drive, but something looked out of place. He stared for several moments and rubbed his eyes, but he was too weary to try and figure it out.

Once inside, he was struck with a faint remnant of Elsa’s scent. Was he losing his mind? He pulled his jacket off and brought it to his nose and immediately felt relieved. Her perfume was still lingering on his clothing.

Finally showered and in clean clothing, he settled in his home away from home – his office. Again, things looked slightly off. He sat perfectly still in the large leather chair, allowing only his eyes to move around the room as he scanned every single document on his desk, every note and sheet of paper. It all looked in order, yet… he just couldn’t put his finger on the thing that was making him feel as if someone had invaded his privacy.

He opened his desk drawers one by one to find nothing missing. Of course there wouldn’t be. If his house had been broken into, his silent alarm would’ve gone off and he would’ve been notified. What the hell was wrong with him?

Opening the bottom drawer, he reached down and touched his case study and the twine tied around it. Something was definitely amiss. Or… he really was losing his fucking mind.

His cell phone rang out, catching him by surprise and he slammed the drawer closed. His heart lurched into his throat when he heard something serious was going down in Cambridge and he needed to get back right away. God, he hoped it was the break they needed.

Quickly, he retrieved his journal and photocopied his notes about Elsa to have couriered to the Virginia Pen. As he placed the precious cargo into a manila envelope, he vacillated. Did he really want to share her with Anthony? He knew the kind of sociopath Ant was and the thoughts that would be going through his head when he read about her. Could he really live with himself knowing that he had given Ant the opportunity to fantasize about fucking and dismembering Elsa like he had all his victims? His mouth set into a deep frown thinking about it.

He had never hesitated before to share the information regarding his Chapters because he knew it could be used as leverage when he needed help with a particular case. But Elsa was different. A pain in the ass, but they all were on some level. She wanted him to see the light at the end of the dark tunnel and even though it was a futile attempt on her part, it was noble nonetheless.

He glanced at his wall clock and wondered what he and Elsa might be doing if he hadn’t cancelled their weekend together. Deep down, he already knew. He would be watching her when she wasn’t looking. He would be taking in every curve and imperfection of her body. He would be studying the delicate laugh lines of her face that spoke of her joy and wondering what memory each line held. Each time he saw her, he found her more attractive than the time before. Her expressions were becoming familiar and easier to read. His favorite: when she was trying to anticipate his next move. The softness of her skin, the ink decorating her flesh, her scent, her soothing feminine voice spoken in barely a whisper… She was femininity in its most perfect form.

No, he wasn’t going to share his Peach with Ant.

***

Lying in bed, Elsa finished with Chapter Two. This particular subject had seemed more like an experiment in Mr. Black’s ability to take control. His lack of skill was even more glaringly apparent in these writings. It was a nice change. She felt like she was reading Victor’s thoughts when he wrote about Kayla and not Mr. Black’s. He was gentler with this Chapter and far more lenient. Elsa actually felt a bit of jealousy toward Kayla. She wished she had known Victor back then. There might have been a chance with him if she had gotten to him before his light was extinguished and Mr. Black had completely taken control.

If only there was a time frame she could put with the case studies. She tried making a mental timeline by adding all the weeks together and subtracting them from the current date, but it was only a guestimate and a poor one at that considering she didn’t know how long the time frame was between each Chapter. Her best guess was that he had been subjugating these poor people to his will for at least three years, though in reality, probably longer.

She had sped through Chapter Two eager to get to the beginning but as she turned each page and got closer to the end, there was a sinking feeling that she hadn’t learned everything she wanted to know. When she turned the last page she was outraged to find that there was no Chapter One. His case study simply ended.

His words had caused her to laugh, cry, yell, throw things across the room, and feel sympathy, empathy, anger, arousal and disgust. It was the best non-novel she had ever read. The damned manuscript had left her a pile of frayed nerves and blistered emotions, and now there was no resolution to any of it? No beginning and no end? What the fuck kind of cruel joke was this?

Elsa stared at the last page for nearly a minute in dumbfounded shock and denial. If she hadn’t stolen the damned thing, she would’ve demanded a refund. She felt like screaming at the top of her lungs, but instead, all that came out was lunatic laughter. She really was insane and Mr. Black was all to blame.

Infuriated, she stuffed the pages into her backpack and forced herself to sleep.

Sunday morning, she woke late and decided to take a bus to the hospital to rescue her vehicle before it got towed. She was still livid about the lack of a Chapter One. She wanted more. She needed all of it if she was going to get through to Victor.

On her way home, she stopped off at her favorite café, unable to bring herself to go home. She had spent nearly twenty-four hours confined there and she needed fresh air and sunlight.

As she sipped on her coffee, she was treated, yet again, to seeing Victor’s face on television. There was a big break in the case and he was front and center at a press conference. Elsa rushed to the counter to see what was going on.

Victor looked tired but his voice was steady and calm when he answered a reporter’s question. “I can’t give away any vital information at this time. However, I can tell you that we’ve had a significant break in the case and we’re acting on it appropriately.”

“Is it true that you conferred with known serial killer Anthony Bruce regarding this case?” someone from behind the camera blared out.

Victor’s eyes darkened and his mouth thinned. Elsa cringed. She knew the look well. He was angry and she felt a twinge of sympathy for whoever had asked the question. Would Mr. Black lash out or would Victor’s cool professionalism prevail? She watched in stunned silence as he stared wordless at the reporter. As the room quieted down and waited for his answer, it was as if he was looking directly at her and he knew what she was thinking and already planning. She only half listened to his response as she struggled with her conscience because all she wanted to do was get to his house and find Chapter One.

As she drove in silence, she caught herself glancing uneasily into her rear-view mirror and over her shoulder. She had a much stronger guard up since meeting and being subjected to Mr. Black’s brand of education. As she neared his house, she wondered who Anthony Bruce was and why Victor was so irritated with the question. It wasn’t uncommon for the FBI or other law enforcement agencies to utilize the help of convicted killers. They had an inside track to how a murderer’s mind worked, after all. Then again, so did Victor since it was his area of expertise.

The noon sun was bright and high in the sky making it even more imperative that she park in the same secluded spot she had parked before. When she exited her vehicle, a warning voice whispered in her head to turn around but she moved without hesitation. It was getting easier to ignore her voice of reason as each day passed and she began to fear that soon all commonsense would be lost and she would simply act without thinking. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Slowly, she walked the distance to his house, trying to appear inconspicuous to any passersby. When his house came into view, she was finally able to really appreciate its beauty. It looked so different in the bright light of day. With all the lush green trees surrounding the property, the cool, sweetly scented floral breeze and the wooden fence around the perimeter, it was peaceful.

She dug into her pocket and put the key into the lock and waited for the alarm to turn off. When it did, she made double time to his office. This trip would be a quick one – in and out, she repeated to herself.

She made a bee-line straight to the designated drawer to find the stack of blank pages still exactly as she had left them. She replaced the cover sheet and retied the twine neatly, but as she laid it back inside the drawer, she hesitated. She didn’t really want to say goodbye to it. She had tried her best to etch the words into her memory, but there were just so many of them and she had read the huge manuscript in such a short amount of time, she worried it would all be forgotten. She considered making a copy when she saw his printer. She untied the string quickly and plucked out the sections that she thought were most helpful and of course, the chapter containing Jordan and quickly made photocopies.

With the case study back in its rightful place, she closed the drawer and searched the remainder of his file cabinets for Chapter One but she was unsuccessful in locating it. Giving up, she turned to leave when she saw an unsealed manila envelope on his desk addressed to Virginia State Penitentiary, Anthony Bruce, #6429, which she assumed was his Department of Corrections number. The same warning voice she heard before was now screaming for her to just leave, but she couldn’t resist taking a peek.

She emptied the contents of the envelope onto the desk and her chest felt as if it would burst when photocopied images of his journal notes on her spilled out in front of her. She sank into his chair, stunned and appalled. Her breath seemed to have solidified in her throat as she sat trying to comprehend and make sense of what she was seeing. She clenched her hands until her nails cut into her palms as the realization of what he was planning on doing hit her. She really was just another test subject to study and pass around for everyone to try and dissect, exploit and break down. But a fucking serial killer? Victor had gone too far.

Elsa stood and stuffed everything into her backpack, but left the envelope. She was a volcano on the verge of erupting and she had to get the hell out of his office before she tore it and his entire perfect house apart.

The drive home took half the amount of time it should have, but she didn’t give a shit if she got a ticket or not. The silence in the car seemed to grow tight with tension as her mind clouded with hurt, betrayal and anger. But still, she wanted to fucking help him. She choked back a cry, infuriated with herself for being such an ignorant bitch.

She slammed on her brakes and pulled onto the shoulder. Reaching into her backpack, she shredded his journal notes without thinking. As soon as she did, she regretted it. Only hours before she was bemoaning the fact that she would never get to read his thoughts on her and here it was, like a gift. Or a curse.

The tears she had been fighting came in a flash flood and she cursed the air. Fuck Mr. Black and his game. She would win and this antic was not going to deter her and neither were his cruel words and cancellation of their time together. She was stronger than Mr. Black and she was smarter than Victor. She would be the champion in this game.