Knight In Black Leather by Gail Dayton (people reading books .txt) 📗

She couldn't even nod. Anything she did could get Pete killed. She drove across the bridge and downriver, then crossed back into the neighborhoods where she and Eli had searched for Teresa. Flash directed her through unfamiliar streets and alleys, alert for signs of police, and finally told her to stop outside a blank-windowed storefront. He got out of the car, keeping Pete under the knife, then dragged Pete out too.

"If you aren't here when I get back," Flash said, "If you do anything besides sit here nice and quiet in your car, I'll kill the kid. And I won't kill him fast."

"I'll wait." She met Pete's terrified eyes, wanting to scream, not daring to. "He'll find us, Pete. You know he will. He loves you."

Flash kicked the car door shut and Marilyn rolled down the window as he hauled the child into the building. "I love you too, Pete!" she shouted after them.

The boy dangling from his grip like a marionette, Flash whirled to show Marilyn the knife under Pete's ear. She put her hands over her mouth, both in horror and to show Flash her intent. She didn't dare do any of the stupid, risky things she'd thought of. She'd seen what this man did to Pete's mother and she knew he would carry out his threat.

Seconds ticked by, each one an hour long, while Marilyn waited for Flash to return, trying hard to shut her imagination down. She saw motion in the windows upstairs, a glimpse of beefy hands as a coarse curtain--a blanket, maybe--was pulled across to hide what was inside.

She studied her surroundings, tracing in her memory the path they'd taken to get here. Anything to keep from thinking what might be happening inside the ugly abandoned building. She might have a chance to get free, might be needed to tell the police where Pete had been taken.

Flash seemed to be working alone without anyone backing him up. No henchmen--if that was what they were called these days. No partners. At least not that were in evidence so far. Marilyn thought that might be a good thing. Of course she might be wrong. About everything.

The big man, dressed in red silk under his black leather jacket, reappeared and got in the front seat beside Marilyn. "You're a good bitch, know how to do what the man says." He showed her the knife, now poised ready to slide into her side. "Don't know what Court's thinkin', goin' after tough old meat like you when he could have prime young stuff. Maybe I'll have to try you out myself, see what the attraction is."

Marilyn suppressed her revulsion as he picked up a lock of her hair and tugged on it, not gently. He was trying to scare her as much as anything and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing just how well he succeeded. She was terrified. More for Pete than herself, but there was plenty of terror to go around.

"How did you find us?" She dared to speak with Pete out of the car.

"Asked around. Heard about Court bein' with some old broad who worked at the Youth Center, asked around and got your name, broke in and found your address." He sounded pleased with himself. "Ain't just the cops can find somebody they want. Cops can't find their own ass with a map."

Flash directed her toward downtown, then back out again, driving her in circles. She suspected him of trying to disorient her, but it wasn't working. She'd lived in Pittsburgh all her life. Parts of it she didn't know well, but she could find her way. Finally he directed her to stop outside a narrow row house and dragged her across the center console to exit through the passenger door. He took her up the stoop and in the front.

The hallway was dark, especially after he shut the door. Holes in the plaster walls and the pungent smell of filth testified to long neglect. Flash shoved Marilyn the length of the hall, into the kitchen at the back of the house, reeking with the mingled aromas of chemicals and rotting food. She gagged but fought down the reflex. She didn't want the place to smell worse than it already did.

He took out a wad of keys on a long chain and opened a shiny padlock on what turned out to be the cellar door. A light bulb on a dangling wire lit the stairs, bare wood without a railing. With a mocking leer, Flash gestured at the doorway.

Marilyn entered quickly, before he could decide to shove her through it. She was halfway down the stairs, still moving fast, before she realized he was locking the door behind her. He didn't follow her in.

Her relief flashed, and vanished. If he wasn't here with her, then where would he be? With Pete? She sat down on the stairs with a thump.

The first sign Eli had that something was wrong was when he walked in the house and didn't smell anything.

Marilyn had mentioned cooking a pot roast for dinner, for Joey's visit. The house ought to be filled with the aromas of beef and onion and carrots. It ought to echo with the sound of voices calling out spelling words or reading out loud. But it echoed with emptiness, smelled of absence.

"Marilyn?" Eli walked into the kitchen, looking for a note. She might have forgotten something, had to run out to get it. "Pete?"

The dining table held yesterday's mail. No backpack. No schoolbooks. Nothing.

"Marilyn!" Panic simmered in his gut as he hurried through the house. He pounded upstairs. Maybe Pete was doing homework in his bedroom. Maybe Marilyn was in the bathroom. He called them again. No one answered.

The house was empty.

"I ain't changed my mind." A young voice croaked out of the shadows deeper in the basement. "So you might as well jus' kill me and get it over with."

Marilyn stood up, her insides fluttering like