His smile made her want to gag.
He returned to the workbench, removed the sealed lid from a rectangular storage container, and took out several cotton balls. He pulled on another pair of latex gloves before soaking several of the cotton balls with the antiseptic solution from the tattoo kit. He returned to her with them.
“Now, let’s see.” With his free hand, he took hold of her arm. She tried to pull it from his grasp but was helpless to do so. “Molly, Molly, this part won’t hurt. I’m only going to begin the cleansing process.”
He stroked the inside of her arm. “This looks like a good spot, don’t you think?” With his index finger, he drew a circle midway up her forearm.
“Go to hell, you creep,” she shouted, and again struggled to free herself.
He looked up and winked at her. “I don’t mind a little feistiness.”
“You’re psycho. Sick. Sick! And you’re going to die, you know. My dad is going to kill you.” She managed to raise her knees and bump them against his arm. One of the cotton balls fell from his hand onto the floor.
As he stared down at it with something akin to disgust, his demeanor changed. Speaking softly and with an undertone of menace, he said, “Now you’re really testing my patience, Molly. I’m your liberator. You should mind your manners with me.”
He made the warning emphatic by gripping her arm tighter. He then swabbed her forearm from her wrist to the crook of her elbow with one of the wet cotton balls.
She despised his touch but couldn’t physically overcome him, and she was fearful that if she persisted in insulting him he would suspend his cleansing process and go to work on her with the surgical instruments. Until she could think more clearly and devise a means of escape, she determined that her best defense would be to keep her expression impassive and her reactions to a minimum.
He muttered to himself what sounded like a chant about cleansing, purity, perfection, Luna, Luna, Luna. She didn’t know how long that would have continued if his wristwatch hadn’t dinged an alarm.
It startled both of them. He froze for several seconds, then seemed to come to himself. He looked at his watch and said, “Oh. I was hoping to get the outline done tonight, but time has gotten away.” He looked into her eyes. “I hate to leave you, but practical matters dictate. I have to be back home in time to drive my son to school. Today he has an algebra test he’s been fretting about. He’s studied hard for it, but he’ll appreciate a last-minute pep talk.”
He disposed of the used cotton balls, replaced the lid on the storage box, and closed the tattoo kit. He placed it on the shelf above the one with the surgical instruments, scooting it this way and that, until it was perfectly centered, and the front of it was flush with the edge of the shelf.
“There.” He stepped back and admired it for several seconds before coming back around to her. “When I return, we’ll start on your tattoo. I’ll make several passes throughout the day. It may hurt a little, but I’ll be as gentle as possible.” He was so caught up in his own dreamy thoughts, he didn’t seem to notice that she was no longer reacting.
“By tonight,” he said, “your tattoo should be perfect. Everything will be perfect. Everything must be perfect.” He gave her another of those sickeningly sweet smiles. “Perfect for your blood moon.”
The empty shopping bag now hung limp on the hook. He retrieved it, took down his jacket and pulled it on. He unbolted the door. As he went out, he looked back at her.
“Remember, Molly, the goal is perfection. Please don’t spoil it. Don’t be the disappointment Crissy was.”
Chapter 34
Mitch? Me.”
“Heard from her?”
“No, and it’s worse. Beth and I don’t think she ran away.”
He began explaining about the professor, talking so rapidly his words stumbled over one another. “Later, I’ll fill you in on why we suspect he’s our perp, and if we’re wrong I’ll do penance and beg his forgiveness, but it feels right. Eerily right.”
“I trust your gut.”
“Problem is, we don’t have cause to question him about anything. I’ve got some peeps in the department who are checking security cameras in the area of the restaurant.
“They’ve got Molly leaving it and disappearing around a corner at the end of the block. That’s the last time she was seen. There was a car on the street, but it was drizzling, the video is blurry. They’re trying to get a good angle on the license plate, but so far no luck.
“Meanwhile somebody’s got my girl somewhere, and if it is this professor, it’s doubtful he took her to his residence, because he’s got a wife and son. Until he’s ruled out, I need to keep track of him.”
Mitch said, “You need my stingray.”
“You read my mind. Is it handy?”
“I’m sitting on it. It’s under the false floorboard of my pickup. Do you have his cell number?”
“Yes. Beth will call him. She’s worked out a script that we think will prod him to make a move. If it’s him. If not, then I don’t know.”
“Text me the numbers, his and hers. I’ll set up and text you when I’m ready.” Mitch clicked off.
Beth said, “How does that work?”
“When it’s on, the device acts like a cell tower. Law enforcement use it to obtain a phone’s IMSI. Every phone has one unique to it, and it’s chock-full of information on the user. Once the stingray has the IMSI programmed into it, they can then locate and track the user, run surveillance, see who he connects with, so on.”
“The user is unaware of this?”
“That’s the idea. Its critics have invasion of privacy issues.”
“Is it legal for Mitch to use it unofficially?”
“I don’t dare ask, but I really don’t give a damn.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Come on, Mitch. You said you were sitting on it.”
Beth reached out and squeezed his thigh. “Take a breath. We’ll find her.”
Looking at her with anguish, he covered the back of her hand with his and rubbed it. “I hate like hell that I’ve subjected you to all this. But, God, I’m glad you’re here.”