It's One of Us(96)

“I can only imagine. Want to tell me what happened?”

Jillian shifts against the pillow, dragging the diamond-patterned gown higher up her shoulders. “He was actually very gentle with me after he got me wrestled into the back of his van.”

Joey nods. The van... Sounds like this is their boy. It’s Peyton.

“Can you describe your attacker?”

“He’s young, with short dark hair. Tall... I mean, nothing really stands out except he has a cleft in his chin. And dead eyes. He seemed so...empty. Devoid of life. Except for when I was screaming. Then he lit up, from inside. It was horrifying.”

They’ve got a six-pack to show her, assembled hastily and emailed to them while they were on the road. Joey slides her phone with the photo array onto the tray. “See anyone who looks familiar?”

Jillian picks out Peyton Flynn immediately.

“Okay. Thank you. Hang on just one second.”

She steps into the hall, pulling the door closed behind her. Osley is waiting, brow raised.

“She ID him?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take it from here,” he says, phone already to his ear.

Joey steps back in the room. Jillian has pulled up her legs and is sitting with them crossed beneath her. She looks much more relaxed. The sedative must have kicked in. Joey can see the tips of bandages creeping around the edges of her toes. She was barefoot... Joey does her best not to blanch. Her feet must have been cut to ribbons by the time they found her.

“Is that him? Is that Beverly’s killer?”

Joey shakes her head. She can’t prejudice the witness by saying anything definitively. “I can’t say one way or another at this moment, ma’am. We need to hear everything you’ve been through if you’re feeling up to sharing.”

Jillian shudders. “If it will help stop him, yes. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you. I want to run through it all, from start to finish, but first... I know this might be hard, but I have to ask. Major Aldridge said you think you killed him? If that’s true, we need to go find his body, so as much detail as you can provide would be really helpful. How he grabbed you, how long you were in the van, things you saw, what happened while you were there, how long you walked after you escaped. We’re going to go through it all, okay?”

“That’s fine. I’m pretty sure I did kill him,” Jillian says, voice quiet. “I hit him from behind. He was just turning toward me, and I caught him in the temple with a chisel. He went down and I ran.”

“Were you in restraints?”

“Yes, zip ties. But he got distracted and went outside, and I’ve watched all the videos on how to break them. My hands were in front of me, thank God. I’d have never managed any other way. Normally he had my hands in the back, but today...yesterday? I don’t know how long it’s been. Anyway, I hit them on the side of the table by the couch he had me on and they broke. I was going to slip away, but I knew I needed to make sure he couldn’t follow me. I snuck up behind him and hit him. I looked back once and he hadn’t moved, and there was blood, so much blood.”

“Head wounds bleed a lot,” Joey says. “And that was a ballsy move. So, a chisel, a couch. What else did you see?”

Jillian closes her eyes, and her breath quickens, hands grasping the edge of the blanket. Psychosomatic response, Joey knows, to reinserting herself into the trauma. “You’re safe,” she says softly. “He can’t hurt you.”

“It was a barn. An old barn, abandoned. Falling down in one corner. There were stalls, five of them, and old, moldy hay. There were tools in the yard, which was dirt. An old tractor, completely rusted out. Inside was... He’s been living there for a while, that I do know. He had a couch and a television, a table, a mattress, bedding. Lots of camping supplies, very tidy rows of canned foods and water.” She opens her eyes. “He’s meticulous, but spacey. Like, he drifts away when he’s talking—and he talks, a lot. If I wasn’t so terrified, I would have found it interesting. He talked about art, about psychology, legal issues. Nothing about himself, exactly, but I got the sense he’s been in treatment before. Therapy. It was almost as if he was entertaining me so I’d be distracted from what was happening. That he was going to rape me and kill me, but if he was friendly about it, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I got the sense that he was...lonely. And that freaked me out even worse, because then I couldn’t get it out of my head that maybe he wasn’t going to kill me, that he was going to keep me there forever. And Olivia Bender. He talked about her a lot, too.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She’s an obsession for him. He thinks he’s in love with her.”

Oh, boy.

“All right. Let’s go back to the day you were kidnapped. Do you remember how he got you into the van?”

“It was parked next to my car in the parking lot of the gym. I always park on the far side of the lot so I can get in a few more steps. Under a light, and the neighborhood is so safe, there’s never been anything other than a purse or laptop stolen from an unlocked car. I was putting my gym bag in the trunk and felt arms around me. He slapped a piece of duct tape over my mouth and wrestled me into the van. I fought, I kicked and tried to scream, but it happened so fast. A blitz attack.” She sounds almost apologetic, like it was somehow her own fault for being attacked.