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Death Dreams
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Death Dreams
T.S. McKinney
Copyright © 2018 by T.S. McKinney
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Cover Design © 2018 by Ron Perry Graphic Design, rperrydesign.com
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All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is just a creepy little treat (or trick) to some of my most favorite people in the world! First of all, thank you guys for being a part of my reader’s group – I love you all bunches. When I get down, you all are always there to pick me up and kick me in the ass—which I need more times than not. Thank you all for sharing my work and letting people know that I exist in this genre. Thank you for reviews—they are life-savers for authors. I’ve gotten to meet some of you and hope to meet you all before my writing world collapses!
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I have a special thanks to all the people who agreed to allow me to kill, torture, injure…well, you get the point…in this book. It’s different than my usual stuff, but I enjoyed writing it. Who would have thought I enjoyed torturing and killing people so damn much? What? You aren’t surprised???
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To my victims: Veronica Giles Westfall (rat girl), Ron Perry, Gary Lacrosse, Melissa Sanders Brus, Mildred Jordan, and Claudia Polydoro…thank you for being such good sports and for being my friend!
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Oh…and most of all—thank you Eric.
Told you I would get you back!!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Prologue
He shoved her hard enough that she fell, causing her knees to collide with the solid dirt mixed with the pine cones that littered the wooded land around her. She’d always felt safe in these woods. There was no safety now, though. She knew it. Death stared her square in the face and the only question left to answer would be whether he killed her quickly, or made her suffer for as long as possible.
“Please…you don’t have to do this,” she pleaded. She hated begging him for anything, but she had so much to live for. Her family loved her. Gary loved her. She was loved and knew she deserved to have that privilege.
“Yes, sweetheart, I sure do,” the man answered. A sound of delighted humor laced his voice as he reached down, grabbed a handful of her hair, and yanked her back to her feet. “I do have to. But, more importantly, I want to.” He laughed deliriously. “You have absolutely no idea how badly I want to.” He gave her another shove and said, “Now…keep walking, bitch. We’re almost there.”
She looked around the forest, hoping for some sort of escape, but knowing one didn’t exist. If she knew anything, it was that the man that held her life in his hands had spent hours upon hours planning this night. He’d promised her she would pay for what she’d done.
He’d promised.
“What…what are you going to do to me?” she asked softly.
He laughed again, and she hated that she’d shown him any sign of weakness at all. He was the type that would feed on her fears.
“Bad, bad things,” he answered. “You destroyed my son’s life. I’m sure you knew I would never allow you to just hurt Joshua and walk away without…suffering the way you made him suffer.”
“He didn’t fucking suffer!” she screamed. “He was an animal! He tried to kill me because Gary loved me instead of him!”
The man backhanded her, knocking her to the ground again. She tasted blood. Furious, she opened her mouth to spew words of hate at him, but the words froze on her tongue when her eyes saw the deep hole in the ground only a few feet away from where she’d fallen. Next to the freshly dug grave was a large metal plate, big enough to cover the opening. A large crate sat next to the opening in the ground.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” the man asked. “Cat got your tongue?” He leaned down and pulled out a box cutter. “Wait…rat got your tongue?”
“Wh-wh-at?” she whispered.
He flipped the button on the box cutter, causing the blade to extend. “You cut my son. You cut him with tiny little slices until there was nothing left to hold him together.”
The sharp blade sliced across her face, causing her scream in panic and pain. “Nooooo!”
He sliced again. And again. And again. He wouldn’t stop. She struggled to get away but was much too small to overpower him, and after the first twenty slices, too weak to even try. Blood slid down her face, neck, arms, chest, and legs. She knew it was impossible, but it felt like there wasn’t a spot his blade hadn’t touched. Dizziness swept over her.
The entire time he sliced and diced, he yelled obscenities at her. His hatred oozed from every pore. “You! It was all you!” he screamed in outrage. “You took the only thing I’ve ever loved in this world! You!”
She couldn’t help but notice he referred to Joshua as a ‘thing’. It had always been about the things with him. The money. The prestige. The power. She suspected his love of those things was one of the reasons Joshua had been forced to hide what he truly felt. Yes, it was this man’s love of himself that caused all the lies that had eventually led to Joshua’s death.
Yet, he blamed her.
Suddenly, the cuts and screaming stopped. The forest grew silent again, with only the sounds of his heavy breathing and her shallow breaths to be heard.
Calmly, he closed the box cutter, slid it into the pocket of his expensive dress pants, and then tucked his shirttail back in. Casually, he brushed the front of his shirt…as if his hands could somehow smooth away the blood splattered all over the stark whiteness.
“Don’t worry, little girl,” he whispered softly. “You won’t be the only one to pay for sins committed against Joshua.” Using the tip of his foot, he pushed her limp body into the giant hole that had already been prepared.
She landed with a thud and felt her ribs crack with the impact. It was her grave. He really was going to kill her. She would never see or hold Gary again. Dear God…her sister, who’d practically raised her, would be destroyed over the loss.
All around her was nothing but darkness unless she looked up. Of course, looking up would mean she’d have to see the bastard’s face bathed in the moonlight, looking down at her. Her eyes stayed locked onto the darkness. The look on his face would be smug. She hated smugness and refused to give him the prize he wanted most-to see her fear before he covered the opening once and for all.
How long would it take to die? Her skin was already slippery from the blood drenching every inch of her flesh. Surely not too long? Even peaceful, perhaps? She could just close her eyes, picture Gary’s face and go to sleep.
An odd noise floated down to tickle her ears…to send a warning, perhaps?
Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look up. A voice chanted inside her head, warning her.
The noise grew louder. Squeaks. Strange squeaks.
Ignoring the voice of wisdom that had tried to warn her, she looked up toward the moonlit opening of her grave. Instead of seeing his smug face, though, there was something else. The wooden crate she’d seen earlier had been pushed to the edge of the opening. Suddenly, as she watched, the crate tipped over, emptying the contents. She tried to scream but no sound came. It was as if time froze. Horror seized her entire body.
And then time was no longer frozen. The rats, hundreds of them, squeaking and squealing, were launched into her makeshift grave.
The one thing that scared her most. Rats. Crawling all over her. Biting. Gnawing. Chewing.
The metal plate slid over the opening, locking her and the rats into their tomb.
Darkness accompanied the pain.
She screamed for what felt like hours…and then no more sounds other than the gnawing noises the rats made as they made her disappear forever.
Chapter One
Ryder crossed his arms over his chest and tried not to intervene on Remi’s behalf. What was supposed to be a quick visit with the medical examiner regarding the murder victim brought into the morgue a couple hours ago was quickly turning into a shit show. After Dr. Rawlings had turned him away due to her backlog of recent deaths, he’d cut through the emergency room area because it was the quickest way to his car, but then got sidetracked when he’d heard a familiar voice coming from behind one of the curtained cubicles.
The voice sounded different, yet the same. It was the voice that had haunted him for years. The voice of what he wanted but could never have. Ryder often referred to Remi as his greatest mistake. The only question was whether the mistake was fucking him all those years ago, or the whole walking away from him part.
Remi Newsome was one of his niece’s roommates. Before he’d even known what his intentions were, his feet walked him straight into Remi’s cubicle. What he found shocked him. From all his encounters with Cassie’s roommate, apart from the one-time years ago when he hadn’t known Remi’s connection to the only member left of his family, the young man was clean-cut, extremely intelligent, and a bit shy. The man strapped to the hospital gurney by cuffs around his wrists and ankles, was nothing like the Remi Newsome he knew.
This man looked…terrified, ragged, and nothing short of a hot mess. His normally bronzed skin was replaced with a sickly white pallor. Beads of sweat coated his upper lip and forehead, but he huddled in a blanket like he was freezing to death. His eyes, a pale blue, looked wild and feverish and his gaze kept sweeping around the room. Well, Ryder thought Remi was looking around the room, but his gaze would pass over him like he wasn’t visible. The hands clutching the blanket trembled. Ryder frowned; hell, the entire hospital bed was moving because of how badly Remi shook.
“Can you tell me what drugs you took last night, Mr. Newsome?” the doctor asked Remi.
Drugs? Ryder had no idea Remi or any of Cassie’s other friends used drugs. His niece assured him all her roommates were top shelf. Furious that Remi might be guilty of bringing a dangerous lifestyle around his niece, or doing anything to endanger his own health, Ryder crossed the short distance between him and the side of Remi’s hospital bed and growled, “Answer the question, Remi! What fucking drugs are you on?”
Remi blinked and looked at him. Yes, they were slow, lazy blinks, but at least the younger man finally acknowledged his presence. Remi shook his head slightly as he gazed up at Ryder. He looked confused and scared.
Ryder didn’t need this shit in Cassie’s life…no matter how much he liked Remi. Drugs had killed Cassie’s parents; he wouldn’t allow them to destroy his niece, as well. Hell, it was so damn more than that where Remi was concerned, and Ryder knew it. Yes, his niece was his top priority, but nobody had ever managed to touch a part of him the way Remi had. Ryder fought his feelings for the man in the hospital bed daily, refusing to allow there to be anything between the two of them…for so many damn reasons, none that made sense to anyone except him.
“Excuse me, sir,” the doctor said. “Unless you’re a member of the family, you aren’t allowed back here. If I need help with my patients, I’ll be sure and let you know.” Sarcasm dripped off the doctor’s words.
Ryder pulled out his police badge and flashed it in front of the doctor. Most of the ER medical staff knew him on sight, but Dr. Hastings was new to the hospital. On top of that, the man apparently had a chip on his shoulder the size of a small mountain. Ryder suspected he suffered from a strong case of ‘I’m a god’ syndrome due to his medical abilities.
“I fail to see the connection,” the older man countered dryly. “Is Mr. Newsome under arrest? Broken any laws? As I said earlier, Detective, if you aren’t a family member, you need to excuse yourself. Mr. Newsome needs medical attention, not belligerence.”
Strange, Ryder thought. He’d simply asked the same question the good doctor had just presented to Remi himself. He wasn’t sure how he would be considered belligerent while the doctor asking was considered medical attention. Of course, it might have been Ryder’s tone. Yeah, that was probably it. Ryder couldn’t help it, though; not where Remi was concerned.
“It’s…it’s okay,” Remi whispered softly. “He can stay.”
The doctor glared at Ryder with disdain but didn’t argue with Remi’s decision to allow him to remain in the cubicle. “Fine…but try to be seen and not heard.” He turned his attention back to Remi and said, “I really need you to tell me what you’ve taken. It will help us determine your path of treatment much faster.” The doctor glanced down at his watch and added, “The results from your blood work will be back any second now, Mr. Newsome. You can tell me, or I can read about it.”
“I didn’t take anything,” Remi answered. “I don’t use drugs.” He looked up at Ryder when he said the words and there was a conviction in his voice that made Ryder automatically want to believe Remi. “I had a few drinks, but not enough to…to…well, to do whatever happened.” He frowned. “How did I end up here?”
The doctor scanned the report and answered, “Someone found you passed out on the sidewalk. When they couldn’t get you to respond, they called for an ambulance. You’ve been here for nearly six hours, son.”
Remi’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “I, uh, remember being at the club with friends. Then I started feeling weird, so I left. I was walking to my car…and that’s the last I remember.” He looked up at Ryder again. “I swear, Ryder. I didn’t use any drugs.”
Hell, Remi had been passed out on a dirty sidewalk while Ryder’s victim was being murdered. It made him sick to think there was a murderer walking the streets and Remi had been helpless. The body down in the morgue, beaten beyond recognition, was probably the same age as Remi, could even be one of his friends. What if Remi had been in the wrong place? What if it was his body down in the morgue instead of their John Doe? Could Ryder live with their history if that were the case? “I believe you, Remi. Maybe somebody slipped something into your drink? Could that have happened?”
The doctor snorted in disbelief, but Ryder shut him up with an angry glare. “It happens, doctor. It happens at clubs all the damn time.” Suddenly, Ryder panicked. “Was Cassie with you? If they spiked your drink, they could have gotten hers, too.”
“No, Cassie was at home. I was with friends from the swim team. None of them would have done anything like that, and we bought a fresh bottle of Tequila and were taking shots at our own table. I don’t see how anybody could have slipped anything into my drink.”
Remi’s hands kept fisting the thin hospital sheet in a nervous gesture. Ryder watched and noted that his hands still trembled. “What’s wrong, Remi? Are you scared? Nervous? What’s bothering you?” he asked as he reached down and took one of Remi’s hands and held it in his own. “Fuck, you’re ice cold!”
“Bad dreams,” Remi whispered softly. “I had some really bad dreams. Bad.”
His voice cracked on the last ‘bad’ and he literally gasped for breath. Ryder squeezed his hand, trying to offer some sort of comfort. Every fiber of his being wanted to wrap Remi in his arms and hold him tight. It had always been that way, and Ryder feared it always would.
“My chest hurts. My whole body hurts. It hurts to breathe.”
“Excuse me, doctor,” a voice interrupted. “I have the lab reports you requested.” The nurse, a petite girl that didn’t look old enough to be out of high school, much less performing nursing duties in the ER, handed some paperwork to the doctor.
“Yes, let’s see what Mr. Newsome has ingested,” the doctor practically purred as he to
ok the paperwork and started reading.
Ryder kept rubbing Remi’s hand while the doctor read. Touching Remi wasn’t safe; it would only make him want the man even more, but he couldn’t seem to pull his hands away. He knew they both needed the connection, and he’d be damned if he took it away…not yet, at least. After a few seconds, Ryder noted the huge frown that formed on the doctor’s face.
“That doesn’t make sense.” Doctor Hastings turned to the nurse. “Are you sure these are his reports?”
“Yes, sir; of course,” she answered.
“What? What’s wrong with him?” Ryder demanded. “What did they roofie him with?”
The doctor looked at Ryder and then Remi. Finally, he answered, “Nothing. No drugs in his system and not enough alcohol to even be considered legally drunk, much less passed out dead on a sidewalk and then screaming like a wounded animal for the first hour he was here.” He tucked the paperwork into Remi’s file. “I’m going to send you for a psychiatric evaluation, Mr. Newsome. We need some answers.”
“No!” Remi yelped. “I…I don’t need an evaluation,” he assured the doctor. “I told you; I was having really bad dreams. Sorry for screaming.”
Ryder felt Remi’s hand start to shake even worse. Nothing made sense. No drugs. Remi screaming like a wounded animal? The only thing Ryder was certain of was that Remi appeared terrified of receiving psychiatric help.
“I believe that’s for me to decide,” the doctor answered.
“No, I believe that’s for Remi to decide,” Ryder cut in automatically. “He hasn’t broken any laws and hasn’t been a danger to himself or anyone else. Legally, you can’t hold him for observation against his will.” Hell, maybe they could, but Ryder was intent on bluffing Remi out of the hospital.