Jaspierre's Last Chance (Jaspierre Trilogy Book 3) Page 10
"That looks very realistic," she said. She didn't have to see the rest. She knew. It looked like he had razored her name into his chest moments earlier and they were just about to drip with blood. It was a fucking realistic tattoo.
"Dammit. Why do you have to be so fucking awful?" He wasn't asking a question, shifting in his seat because his balls still ached steadily. "I went to Canada. That's where I put her; there are a man and a woman taking care of her. They are legit too. Really wanted a baby, no drugs or that fucked up shit. I visit when I'm..." He almost said "between corpses." "Between clients." That sounded like he was some sort of man prostitute, and he snorted back a laugh. "I've just been doing my thing."
Jaspierre ran her fingers through her long hair. It would have been nice if she had a few wigs for this race across the country. She didn't exactly want to be recognized too easily. There were two ways to hide. One was to stand out, like bright blue hair; that was memorable. Having a memorable, removable thing prevented people from remembering anything else. All they remembered was blue. The other way was to be such a shadow on the wall they could barely remember you were even in the room.
Two ways.
Neither were working. Chance wasn't about to be a shadow. And it was not like he could remove his head and thus his tattoos. She suddenly snickered. Removing his head wasn't entirely off the table.
"I'm not the monster you think I am," Chance said. "I kept our daughter safe. I came to get you and bring you home. I wish you could just see that."
Jaspierre's eyes wandered to the landscape. "I am glad you kept her safe." But inside, her stomach flipped. What did he mean "bring you home"? Where were they going?
Chapter
Twenty-Two
They drove up to a gated community. Jaspierre looked at the white iron gate, then through it to the perfect houses. They were large and beautiful. Which house was Lucille in? Was it the yellow one on the corner? Did she live in the blue house at the end of the cul-de-sac? Where did she go to school? Did she have friends?
Chance pointed to the yellow house on the corner. "There." Jaspierre stared. The house reminded her of a small version of her own house. White columns, five large steps up to the glamorous front door. In the top right window, a pink curtain fluttered. That had to be her room!
"What are you waiting for? Let's go in." Jaspierre was almost out of her seat, pressing her face out the window, straining her eyes for more details. Was her little girl in that bedroom?
"I don't have the code."
Jaspierre pulled her head back in the car. "What?"
"I don't have the code to open the gate."
Jaspierre's eyes grew wide. "You told me, you fucking told me you took care of her!" She lunged at him in the car, blind rage rippling up her throat, out her mouth. "You fucking told me!" Her hands clawed desperately at him, but his hands locked on her wrists. She was strong enough to get one hard smack on his face. She leaned in close. "You fucking liar."
He kissed her nose while she panted furiously, and she tried to hit him again. "Let's go break our baby out, okay?"
"You fucking shit head," she replied, but stopped fighting him. He smiled, and she wrinkled her nose and continued, "How do we get her?"
"I don't know."
She stared at the gate. She wouldn't be able to walk around it, and although there wasn't a guard, there was a code box at the front. Chance had parked a bit to the side of the gate, where they could look in. A car drove up and the driver punched in a code and slipped through. The gate moved very quickly. They definitely couldn't follow a car in.
"Let's see if we can get it open." They drove up to the box and it had the numbers 0-9 listed on it. Jaspierre wasn't even sure how many digits the other car pressed. Chance pressed the numbers 1425 and pressed call. There was a loud buzzing sound, but then silence. He tried again.
1467
Buzz.
Nothing.
1435
Buzz.
Nothing.
1446
Buzz.
"What are you doing?" Jaspierre said, and right then, she heard a feeble "Hello."
"Hello, ma'am." It was his cop voice. Jaspierre grinned. His deep, reassuring voice he used on people while they were at a traffic stop. Chance continued, "Ma'am, I am here to deliver a pizza, and I'd really love it if you could buzz me in. I tried buzzing to the Jacka's house, they're the yellow one on the corner, and they didn't answer, but their pie is gettin' awful cold."
There was no reply, just another buzz. The gate swung open, and Chance quickly zoomed inside. He did not park in front of the yellow house, instead sliding up the driveway at the blue house on the cul de sac. He didn't drive up the paved part to the garage, but instead drove up the gravel to the wooden fence. Quickly, he hopped out and opened the fence, then hopped back in and pulled forward. Soon the truck was concealed behind the fence.
"Does anyone live here?" Jaspierre asked.
"Of course nobody lives here. Do you think I'm fucking retarded? We will have to wait until dark, though."
"Why should we wait? There will be parents and stuff home at night. Wouldn't it be easier to take her now?"
"She ain't gonna open the door," Chance said firmly.
"And her parents will? When did opening a door worry you?"
He snorted. "I have visited her often enough that I know she doesn't particularly like me." He paused. "They've been really stepping up their game in security. The windows and doors are all alarmed, her room has bars. They have a safe room. She's gonna lock herself in there if we fuck this up."
Jaspierre rolled this around in her head. She was impatient to meet Lucille, but she wasn't expecting her to be afraid and angry in the first few moments they saw each other. She needed to revise her expectations quite a bit.
Chance opened the unlocked back door to the blue house. Jaspierre stepped inside, and quickly, but quietly, he pressed her against the wall. "Look here, we have time right now and I'll be damned if you make me wait any longer."
Jaspierre looked at him with a long, annoyed expression. "Lucille."
"In a minute. First, pay me what you owe." He started to claw at her shirt, demanding her breasts.
She burst out laughing. "Do you really think that I am about to allow this to happen? For all I know, you have driven me fucking nowhere and killed Lucille years ago. You have to fucking pony up." His hands gave up on the shirt, grabbing both breasts and squeezing them painfully through her clothes. "Now you will stop or you'll never be able to fuck again."
He cringed at the threat, his balls still aching from her last assault. He didn't bother to continue. "Fuck you. After we get her, I will tie you down if you make me. But you will give it."
"That's a lot of talk for a man whose balls I've crushed today," she said with a sneer.
He grinned and stepped back, giving her room to move. "Fine, let's come up with a plan and go get her then. I'm tired of fucking waiting."
She stood, staring at him curiously. "This has to be the most downright friendly we've been in a long time."
He burst out with a laugh. "I suppose so. Do you remember that time when we were kids? Before school, when we were running around outside like little maniacs."
"Yeah?"
"This one day you told me you were gonna marry me. You even handed me a little heart-shaped rock," he said.
Jaspierre laughed. "Are you making that up? I don't remember that."
"No, for real. We had to have been four or five. You were in a really fluffy skirt. It was before you had to go to work," Chance said, beaming.
Jaspierre's face fell. She remembered, before work. Before her first board meeting. When Mother was mostly absent, before she was hit nearly so much. Back when she was simply ignored. Those first four years were pretty good. It was the rest of them that were so damn hard.
"I might have said that, I dunno." She shook her head. "Do you think that everyone remembers their lives as before and afters? Before or after I went to wo
rk. Before or after I went to school."
"Before or after your first kill, right?"
Jaspierre laughed. "Well, there would be a lot of before for me. I killed Katie and I was seventeen. I guess I was a bit of a late bloomer."
"Oh God, yeah, no shit. You practically had grey hair. I was ten, I don't even know why I waited so long. I have this friend in here in Canada, and he said he smothered his sister when he was three years old. Makes me feel ancient."
"Yeah, me too."
"Do you think Lucille has killed anyone yet?" Chance asked with an edge of prideful excitement.
I sure fucking hope not. Jaspierre cringed. The idea of her precious child turning into a murderer turned her stomach. She knew it was inevitable, but she still could hope that somehow Lucille wouldn't have to. That maybe she could just skip that awful part of life. Who was she kidding, though? It was a pipe dream.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Jaspierre stared at the yellow house. Her patience was growing very thin. It had been four years since her baby had been snatched from her fingers. Did she still have blond curls? Chance wanted to wait until it was dark. He thought it would be easier. But if this family was jumpy, they'd be locked down tight at night.
So screw it. She was going to get her baby. Now.
"I'm gonna get her," Jaspierre mumbled and reached for the front door handle.
Chance immediately blocked her path with his foot. "No. We have to wait until it's dark. Someone will see us."
"You go ahead and fucking wait. I've done my waiting!" Jaspierre hissed.
His gnarled, scarred face twisted. "Fine. But I can't go out there like this."
"Then you wait, you shithead." Jaspierre scowled at him.
He glared at her and nodded. "I'll be there the moment it's dark." She knew he didn't worry about her stealing Lucille and running off. He would find them again. Jaspierre didn't worry about it either; she'd kill him eventually, or he'd kill her. Such was the way of things.
Jaspierre stepped out onto the sidewalk, awkwardly aware of how out of place she felt. She was wearing her grey t-shirt dress, wrinkled from the long drive. The boots she wore had heels, and she was weaponless. What exactly would her plan be?
She wasn't sure. Get her daughter. That was the plan.
She walked slowly to the yellow house, watching the windows, noticing the little pink bike in the back yard. Her feet refused to move as she stared. Could Lucille ride a bike already? Somehow, it was feeling more real, and more painful. That bike sucked the air from her lungs and twisted her guts. Lucille could ride a bike.
Hot tears started to well up and she shook them off. Now was not the time to be emotional. Jaspierre had to be ready to fight, not cry. She clenched her fist. So much had been taken from her. From them! This time, she was going to get her back.
Her knuckles rapped at the door not a minute later. The knocking resulted in a long silence. She pressed the yellow glowing doorbell and the ringing was so loud she could practically feel it through the door. The door cracked open a few moments later. A thin boy, a teenager, cracked open the door just a bit. Jaspierre could see the chain was still attached. She couldn't burst in and take her daughter back. He had to unhook it first.
"Hello."
"Hi. What do you want?" the boy said, his eyes narrowed and suspicious.
"I wanted to talk to Lucille. Is she home?" Jaspierre tried to sound warm and friendly.
The boy's eyes grew wide and frightened. He shut the door quickly and she heard him lock it. Shit, now all she had done was tip her hand and let them know she was there. She slowly circled the house, finally stepping into the back yard. She could feel him watching her as she carefully tried each window. They were barred, not just shut and locked, but barred like a prison. She looked up at the pink curtain fluttering in the breeze. A curly blond head appeared.
"Hey, go away. I don't want you here," the tiny little girl voice shouted down.
"I just wanted to meet you," Jaspierre said.
"Go away," the little girl replied. "You've been here too long. Peter is gonna call the cops. Go away."
"Do you know who I am?" Jaspierre said. "Come down and I'll tell you. I don't want to hurt you."
"You are bad. Go away." The little girl suddenly turned and said something into her room. Peter's head appeared in the window and shouted, "Leave. You have two more minutes, then I'm calling the cops." And the glass slid shut so fast the curtain was caught, a little tail flapping in the light breeze..
Jaspierre slowly walked back up the sidewalk toward the blue house. Why hadn't he called the cops right away? Maybe he wanted her to see how the house was tightly locked up, maybe he thought that would deter her. He was sorely mistaken. She was contemplating what to do next when a large red minivan drew up to the yellow house. The garage door very slowly crept open while the van waited in the driveway.
Now. Jaspierre's mind was a blur when her feet took off. The garage door opened all the way and the red van pulled forward. Jaspierre ducked inside after the mommy wagon, quickly pressing herself against the wall. She could feel her heart pounding and her breath was shallow. A woman with jet-black hair got out of the driver's seat. She was flicking at her phone, back and forth like it was no big deal. She opened the door from the garage to the house without unlocking it. The garage light turned off when she shut the door behind her.
Jaspierre crept to the door, listening in the dark for any sounds that might worry her. But she just heard normal family sounds. The mother was greeting the children and they made happy sounds to see each other.
Jaspierre opened the garage door slightly and slipped inside. She was in a hallway. To the left, it was dark, the lights all off besides a single night-light at ankle level in the hall. There were five doors, all shut.
To the right light flickered from a television and she could hear the quiet chopping in the kitchen of a woman making food. She slipped down the hall into the first door. It was a linen closet. The next was a small office, and then a bathroom. Another closet, and a large oddly shaped pantry. Jaspierre scouted quickly. She really wished she had a knife. A sword, preferably, but a knife at minimum. There didn't appear to be any knives sitting conveniently amongst the canned goods. There was, however, a rifle. Carefully, Jaspierre examined the gun. It was loaded and didn't have a gunlock on it anywhere. Jaspierre carefully removed the bullets and looked around for any others. It wasn't long until she saw the box sitting behind several bottles of ketchup. She took the box and dumped them into a box of old toys labeled "Donations." She had no intention of shooting anyone, but she also didn't want anyone to shoot her.
She pressed her ear to the doorway, and the low rumble of family life was down the hall. Nothing else. She carefully slipped out the pantry and into the dimly lit hallway. The kitchen seemed quieter, and Jaspierre could hear a woman speaking in low, soft mumbles to the boy. The empty rifle still clutched in her fingers, she stepped quickly into the kitchen. The kitchen was quiet and empty. Jaspierre quickly scouted the room and the large knife sitting on the counter was hers instantly. The open concept kitchen flowed out into the living room. Lucille was sitting on the couch, her blond curls shaking as she laughed at the pictures on the television. The television was not very loud, and Lucille's laughter was the only bright sounds in the room.
At the table on the other side of the kitchen island, the woman was leaning over Peter. Their backs were to Jaspierre. They appeared to be working on math- from their soft whisperings of numbers. Jaspierre's heart was pounding so hard she thought for certain they'd hear it. Jaspierre quite quickly stepped forward and rammed the knife through the woman's back. She pointed the rifle at Peter. "Lucille, come here now." Lucille turned, her blond curls no longer shaking with laughter. "I'll shoot him if you make me."
The small child ran forward and grasped the woman bleeding on the ground. Jaspierre's brow wrinkled with confusion. Lucille started screaming, "Mama! Mama!" bleating like a little lamb, her
voice loud and terrified.
Jaspierre shouted at the little girl, desperate to be heard over the screams. "I am your mother! Stop that this instant. We have to go home."
But the child did not stop. Lucille shook the woman and kept bleating, "Mama, Mama" over and over through wailing screams of horror. Jaspierre could feel her blood boiling inside her. What was wrong with this child? Had she not seen a dead body before? Why couldn't she get it together?
"She's dead. I'm your mother. It's time to go. I'm rescuing you." She grabbed Lucille, but the child somehow had super human strength, dragging the dead woman as Jaspierre tried to pull her. Peter stood frozen, dumbfounded and staring.
"Mama! Mama!" Lucille kept screeching.
Jaspierre couldn't contain herself a moment longer and slapped the child. "Is this the first dead person you've seen? Get it together! We have to go." Jaspierre could feel the dark hatred dripping off her tongue, but she couldn't control it. How dare Lucille utter "Mama" in front of her! How dare she? She had waited four years. She was the mama.
Lucille was stunned and went from screaming to sudden sobs. Her body changed from struggling and dragging the dead woman to limp. Jaspierre dropped the rifle and tossed her over her shoulder and marched towards the door. The sky was already growing dark. Chance would be driving up soon.
She heard a click as Peter aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. She turned her head slowly and looked at him. "I'm taking her. Now go do your homework."
Suddenly, Lucille was back to life, kicking and screaming. "Peter, don't leave me! Peter!"
Jaspierre couldn't concentrate with her child pummeling the shit out of her. It felt like she was carrying a baby gorilla, not a dainty four-year-old girl. "Enough!" Jaspierre's voice took on that familiar edge. The sharpness of Mother. Her hand cracked with pain as she slapped the center of Lucille's back. It stung like slapping concrete and the child let out a scream of pain. Fuck. Shut up, shut up. The words started to roar out of her. "Shut up, shut up! I'll do worse than slap you. Shut up!" Jaspierre clapped her own hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes. She had been a mother now for five minutes and had hit her daughter twice. Her soul cringed when she realized it.