Filed to story: The Mindf*ck Series Read Online Free
She has a protective arm around the child, showing instant maternal instincts. She’s bonded with Laurel as fiercely as Laurel has bonded with her. In less than twenty-four hours.
“So she has no idea how she ended up on your porch? And you never saw anything?”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “I came in freely, willing to give you information. You still haven’t agreed to my terms, yet I’ve told you all I could except for what you really want to know. Yet you’re interrogating me. I should have stayed home.”
Duke opens his mouth to speak, but I put a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention.
“You said you wanted to know where the other kids were, so why are you grilling her about who brought the kid?”
His lips clap shut, and I cock my head to the side. Finally, he blows out a long breath.
“It doesn’t add up. Even you know this sounds wrong.”
“What information do you have?” I ask Lindy.
She glares at me now. “I’m not telling you anything until you promise me that Laurel can remain in my house with me. You have to promise no one will take her away.”
Laurel clutches Lindy’s hand, still leaning on her.
“Donny, make some calls,” I say, titling my head. “Make sure Laurel doesn’t get removed from Ms. Wheeler’s home.”
“May,” Lindy immediately corrects. “My last name is now May. I don’t use Wheeler anymore.”
“Why is that, Ms. May?” I ask, acting as though this is news to me.
“Sometimes you just need a fresh start. Same as I’m trying to offer Laurel. Why are we being treated like criminals when we just came to help?”
Duke slumps in his seat, a look of regret crossing his face. He’s trained to ask about the suspicious answers. She’s definitely hiding something, but I’m not sure what.
Donny walks out, his phone to his ear, making the calls we need.
“Why’d you leave Delaney Grove?” I ask her.
No surprise flickers in her eyes, but her back stiffens. Laurel’s hand clutches hers tighter.
She definitely knows something, and I’ll bet Laurel knows a piece of the puzzle too.
“I got a divorce, decided to change my world for the better. Delaney Grove isn’t as grand as it seems.”
Craig gave me all the info on her, and I’m looking at it on my phone now.
“You were married to Antonio Gonzalez, correct?”
She nods curtly, a coldness washing over her eyes.
“He still lives in Delaney Grove,” I go on.
Duke is watching me, a confused expression on his face.
“Why’d you come here instead of the police station?” I ask her. “The local PD is who broadcasted that they needed the information on Ferguson.”
“You should call him the monster,” Laurel interjects, surprising me as her eyes darken.
There’s a fury there. A dark, deeply laced fury. There’s not an ounce of fear in her eyes, just determined hatred so out of character for an abused child. The bruises on her arms and face and neck suggest he wasn’t gentle about his ways with her.
Has she even been examined yet?
Lindy ignores my question, but I already know the answer. He sent her here.
“Has she seen a doctor?” I ask Lindy, changing my line of questioning.
“We’re going to see one today.”
She doesn’t say more.
“How severe was she injured?”
“Bad enough to leave scars on her soul, but not to the extent it could have been. If you know what I mean, Agent.”
He hasn’t raped her. She’s too young. But he’s forced her to do other things, and that’s bad enough.
Lindy speaks like a victim herself, as though she understand the trauma on a different level. The unsub knew this, because that couldn’t be a coincidence.
She knows him. And she’s apparently for whatever crusade he’s on. I won’t get an ounce of information out of her that tells me who he is. Whatever happened affected more than just the unsub.
But why not tell me what happened?
What the fucking hell is going on in Delaney Grove?
“Ms. May, I know this is difficult, but can you at least tell me what led to you leaving Delaney Grove? Maybe something that affected more than just you?”
Her eyes shift, and a calmness comes over her.
“I left to start anew, Agent. If you want to know about Delaney Grove, maybe you should visit it.”
So he asked her not to tell. She spoke with him. There’s no doubt about that.
He saved the child. The child feels safe because he’s the dark knight that slayed the monster who has haunted her for months, ever since her disappearance. Our unsub handed her over to this woman, who he swore would keep her safe. She trusted him. She was cared for by Lindy, and the bond formed instantly.
That much makes sense.
They both owe him their silence for a reason. They’ll never talk. And I’m not in the business of bullying victims who’ve suffered enough. I’ll find out another way.
Donny walks back in, and I look over at him as he nods.
“Laurel is yours,” I say to Lindy.
“Paperwork. I want it in writing.”
He coached her on this. Told her to make sure she got custody by leveraging information.
Unreal.
We had him all wrong.
There won’t be animal cruelty in his past. He’ll have been someone gentle, possibly na?ve and trusting-too trusting. Trusting enough to have been someone’s victim.
Instead of it shattering him; he came back for cold vengeance. But why target so many? What did they fucking do?
Donny walks out again, going to get something in writing. Duke taps his pen impatiently, his knee bouncing under the table. Across from him, Laurel whispers something into Lindy’s ear. Lindy presses a kiss to the child’s forehead.
I watch, fascinated by the fact Laurel doesn’t seem appalled by the affection. An instant maternal bond has been brought forth by two victims bonding with a killer. A killer they feel slays the monsters of their nightmares.
A killer who won’t stop.
They don’t realize how dangerous this guy will become. Revenge killers have no limitations on who dies. The smallest of infractions is a death sentence. They take justice into their hands, become judge, jury, and executioner, becoming too immortal in their own minds.
Donny returns, a paper in his hand. He hands it to Lindy, and she reads it carefully, searching for any sort of a trick.
I take the paper and sign it. “This is me calling this the truth,” I explain, watching her gauge me.
She must trust whatever she sees in my eyes, because she pulls a piece of paper from her purse and hands it to me. Duke stands and comes to read it over my shoulder.
It’s a map to the burial ground, written in blood with a calligraphy penmanship, with most likely a calligraphy pen to disguise the unsub’s handwriting. He knows calligraphy?
So organized it’s eerie.
How long has he been preparing for every possible outcome?