have a newspaper clipping stapled onto the very last page.
Obituaries.
Now I'm standing on soft soil, a light pitter-patter of rain falling on my head. I'm wearing all black.
"I'm sorry, Penny," says my uncle. I look up at him, tears in my eyes.
"Why is this happening to me?" I ask.
He sighs. "I don't know. Sometimes the world just doesn't make sense."
I try to breathe, to swallow, to cry, to do anything at all to release the pent-up ball of emotion inside me. But instead, I just let out a wail of dismay.
I should run, bolt as fast as I can, and get away from this crazy, gorgeous killer's house. Go somewhere far away, where he'll never find me. But I'm immobilized. Instead of running, I keep leafing through the papers.
I get to the bottom of the stack, There's only one file left. I open it up, my heart racing at full speed. I just know what it's going to be.
And it is.
A picture of me. Clipped to a five-page document with all my past addresses, my social security number, my phone numbers and email. Everything. All that's missing is the obituary.
I feel faint, as though I might pass out. Instead, I start to heave. I lean forward, and then I puke my guts out, right into the open file drawer. It's mostly just clear green bile. My body is running on fumes.
When I've finally composed myself, I stand up, gathering all the files under my arm. I'm going to get the hell out of here, turn these over to the cops, and end this nightmare once and for all.
But as I start to cross the room, I suddenly get dizzy, and everything fades to black. My feet slide out from under me, and I crash down to the floor, hard. I slip into unconsciousness.
32
Havok
For the first half of the drive to the drop point, the racket in my trunk doesn't stop. It annoys the fuck out of me, reminding me of the dirty deed I'm doing.
Even killers have morals.
But I turn up the radio to drown out the banging and crying. Out of sight, out of mind. That's how I deal with guilt. And by telling myself that this is all for a noble pursuit, that everything will work out in the end and Mackenzie will emerge unharmed.
Eventually, she stops struggling. I could turn down the radio and be alone with my own thoughts, but I don't.
She begged and pleaded after I stuffed the burlap sack on her head. Thought I'd come to fuck her. Tried to remind me of that. Offered to suck me off, to let me fuck her in the ass, to pay me money. Anything I wanted.
But there was only one thing I wanted, and she couldn't give it to me. Penny's safety. My need to protect her is the only thing keeping me going right now. I've got to get this job done as fast as I can and get back home to her, to make sure no one else has found her.
If anyone ever lays so much as a fucking finger on her, I'll kill them without hesitation.
Finally, as the sun rises, I arrive at the drop point. It's an old, abandoned factory along Route 78, far away from civilization. No one comes out this way.
It's a great place to hide a criminal operation. I have to give Igor credit for that.
When I shoved Mackenzie into my trunk, I was half a second away from apologizing, untying her, and sending her on her way. But I forced myself to follow through.
I park outside the facility, and a couple of street-level goons emerge from a guard station. I roll down my window, and one of them speaks.
"You dropping off?"
"Yeah."
"Pull around back into the loading dock."
I comply, driving around the building and backing into a loading dock made for semi-trucks. Then, I pop the trunk and get out.
I raise the trunk, and there's Mackenzie, curled up into a fetal position, the burlap sack still on her head. Poor girl. I reach down and pull it off, and she stares up at me with puffy blue eyes, a gag in her mouth, a frightened look on her face.
A different pair of guys emerges from the loading dock, and they inspect the goods. "Aw, shit, she looks like a horny little bitch," says one of them, and the other grins, nodding his approval. "The things I'm gonna do to her..."
I feel like a flare gun has fired off inside