tagBDSMThe End of Evil Ch.14

The End of Evil Ch.14

byXantu©

Junie had barely come to live with her new owners when ugly reality intruded on their idyllic world. Her search for a Master had caught the attention of a serial killer and she had barely escaped being his next victim. He was caught and facing trial; but now Junie had to testify. The whole idea of leaving her new home was more than she could bear to think about.

But she had to do it. Not only was there a subpoena, there was Monica. Her new friend, Monica, the only other woman to escape with her life, was a tiny fragile thing. Her body was barely healed from the horrific trauma of her assault and if Monica could be brave enough to face court and the man who had mutilated her, Junie knew she had to do it too, for Monica's sake.

Junie knew she was not going to have to do it alone. Her owners, Bob and Donna, were going to be there with her every step of the way. She knew she couldn't do it without them.

Chapter 14: Stalked... The Hunters are Hunted

The house was a welcome sight as they pulled into the clearing, but Bob made them wait in their cars as he inspected the garage and then stay together as a group as they walked through the house. Bob and Donna spoke as if they were giving Monica a tour, but Junie knew they were making sure the house was secure. Only then did they unload the cars, always careful to be within sight of someone as they walked back and forth between the garage and the house.

Happy seemed to remember her old home and was running in circles, stretching her legs after being cooped up for so long. Bob watched her and frowned, "Wish the dogs were here. I will see what I can do about having someone else bring them up."

Monica was installed in the guest bedroom and Junie was putting away the last of the kitchen things she had brought with them. Bob was on the phone with David letting him know that they had arrived at the house. He smiled and handed the phone to Monica and she spoke softly to David for a few minutes and then handed the phone back. She looked sheepish, "He just wanted to make sure I was all right. I guess I was acting kind of crazy yesterday."

Bob looked at Donna, "So far they haven't found anything. He seems to have vanished."

Donna looked up from her computer and nodded. "I have been reading the news. They are saying the same thing. They have his picture up almost all the time. There is a substantial reward out on him."


First thing the next morning, Bob set up a target and practiced firing the pistol, the loud booms echoing back and forth across the lake. Junie could tell that Donna hated the gun most of all, her face flinching with each loud crack.


It took a few days for things to settle down, Monica slept in the guest room with Happy and Junie slept with Bob and Donna in their room. Their lovemaking was infrequent, subdued and silent. It seemed like all of them were listening and looking into shadows. Monica helped Junie and Bob around the house and garden. Donna seemed to write obsessively on her computer. Junie found herself almost impatient for something to happen. She hated the sight of the pistol in its holster on her Master's shoulder, and the rattle and click of the pepper spray against the alarm button as they dangled from her waistband. Everything was routine, but nothing felt the same.

Her dreams were back with a vengeance, waking her every night. It seemed like the invisible presence in the house was mocking her, that things would fall and break before her eyes and yet she could not see him. In her dreams she would push the button on the alarm and nothing would happen. She was learning to wake herself up before she started screaming in her sleep, but they weighed heavily on her mind, and she woke every morning tired and increasingly irritable.



Agent Durant was frustrated and angry. It seemed like the more media attention this case was getting, the more crap he had to wade through. The tip lines were off the hook, literally thousands of leads had been called in and there was no way they could be sorted out in any realistic time frame. He knew that probably lost somewhere in that mass of misinformation was the one thing that could lead him to Sam Card, but it would take weeks or even months to follow up on all those calls to find out which one.

He could still see Monica climbing into the SUV with Junie, her last words echoing soft in his ear. She had said, "I love you. I will always love you." And he knew it was the truth and he did not know what to do about it. He knew he could live out his life loving her from a distance, telling himself he was a foolish old man, but he did not know what to do about her. He called every day to make sure everything was all right and made sure to keep in contact with the local sheriff, making sure to keep him irritated and aware.

He had spent the morning in a long meeting, stroking the egos of the Portland police. Officially it was a cross-disciplinary collaboration meeting set up to coordinate efforts between the FBI and the police, but there was very little in the way of new information to share.


His phone rang and he saw it was one of the agents that were going over the notebooks, trying to catalogue and get teams moving on the twenty-seven different women that Sam Card had written about killing. He answered, "Yes?"

The agent's voice on the other end was excited, "Durant, I think I may have something for you. There was one name he writes down, but he does not write the last name. He just writes Gwenneth P., all the other women he writes down the whole last name. I got to thinking, why didn't he write that down? What was he hiding? And I ran a missing person's search on the first name. Gwenneth is a very unusual spelling. There are not any missing persons with that first name."

Agent Durant growled impatiently, "God damn it, stop beating around the bush."

"Well, I reread what he wrote. He calls her his sweet love Gwenneth. He says she gave him everything and more and I got to wondering how he was getting money. I ran that name in the social security records and there is a Gwenneth Parsons who lives in Seattle. The only one listed. Her tax records show she has not paid her taxes in five years, that's when he said he did her."

"Do you have an address?"

"Yes, that's the good part. She has a house. I checked, the electric was paid until five months ago. That's when..."

Agent Durant was already walking to his car, "I get it. Give me the address." It was midday and, as soon as he shook the heavy traffic of the city, he pushed the car up to eighty-five and set the cruise control. He got on the phone and was talking to Agent Gold. "I am headed to Seattle. It looks like we might have something. Get me everything you can get on a Gwenneth Parsons." He spelled the name and gave Agent Gold the address. "He wrote that he killed her, but it looks like she had a house and someone has been paying the utility bills there up until Card was arrested, then nothing. There is a good chance he was using her house. I want a team ready to roll. I want to surround the place before we go in. If he is there I don't want to lose him again." He pushed the speed on the cruise control up to ninety. "I am making good time. I should be there in two hours. I want everything ready to go."

He hung up and concentrated on weaving in and out of the slower moving vehicles. When an outraged motorist gave him the finger, Agent Durant just gave him a stern look and blew by him.

As he approached the Seattle office, Agent Gold called him back. "What's your ETA?"

"I am about ten minutes out."

"I will meet you in the parking lot. I already have a team watching the residence. They are reporting that they do not see any movement."

"Tell them to stay back until I am there. What have you found out about this Gwenneth Parsons?"

"She was born in 1962. Only child, she inherited a chunk of change when her parents died in a car accident in '85. She has an annuity that has been paying out monthly into a joint savings account. The other name on the account is Sam Henderson. I ran that name and social security number, Sam Henderson was a kid that died in 1995. There have been regular withdrawals from that savings account clear up until Card's arrest and then nothing until yesterday. Somebody cleaned it out, taking out over ten thousand dollars in cash. I am having the bank get the security camera photo footage and get that to us.

"He is running."

"Looks like it, oh and one more thing, Gwenneth Parsons had a car, a white 1974 Cadillac."

Agent Durant spotted Agent Gold in the parking lot already wearing his bulletproof vest as he pulled in. He kept talking on his phone as he pulled into a parking space. He did not stop until Gold opened his car door. The conversation did not miss a beat when their eyes met and the phones were both turned off. "Do you have a license number?"

"Yes, but the car has not been licensed since she died."

After getting into the trunk of his car and grabbing his own vest, they walked to Gold's car. In the car he stripped down to his undershirt and strapped on the vest and then buttoned his shirt up over it and pulled on his suit jacket.

Gold was talking as he drove, "The team on the scene says Parson's house has an eight foot, stone, security wall around it. They have all sides secured and are awaiting our orders."


Soon the neighborhoods they were driving through were turning older, tall oak and maple trees shading the streets and sidewalks. The houses were big, old, multi-story brick and stone houses that seemed a little worse for wear. A lot of them stood vacant, some even with the windows out and doors hanging open, the yards clogged with brambles and garbage. Abandoned and stripped cars sat in many of the yards. Even the plentiful for sale signs were weathered and more than a few stood at drunken angles, like they had been there too long. There were some signs that the area was maybe on the comeback, big dumpsters full of remodeling debris, or a fresh coat of paint showing that some people were fighting to reclaim the old houses before the ivy and blackberries consumed them.

Gold parked and, before they got out, both agents took out their guns, checked their ammunition and put a round in the chamber. Their eyes met and there was an unspoken acknowledgement, their faces a mix of controlled excitement and determination. As they approached, a man with a radio approached them and handed them each a radio of their own with an earphone attachment, "There are two locked gates and a garage door opening onto the street. Those are the only ways in or out other than over the fence itself. There is a window in the garage door, but it is spray-painted black from the inside. We have men on all sides watching the walls."

Agent Durant stood back and looked at the house. It was on a very large lot, taking up almost all the block, and while it was massive, built of stone and three stories tall; it was almost completely obscured by large trees on the grounds. Through the trees he could see the once opulent stone mansion was neglected and had an ominous abandoned feel. The fence was old, made of the same stone as the house, and had blackberry brambles crawling over it in many places.

"Still no sign of occupants?"

"No, nothing, the electricity was turned off a couple months ago so we can't see if there is any use."

"You got a plan of attack?"

"Well it's either the front gate or through the garage. Garage will have more cover from the house, but we can't see what is inside. Without electricity, it is unlikely there will be a functioning security system."

Agent Durant looked at the ancient house and shook his head, "I doubt there ever was one. Let's go through the garage. Get someone to open the door."

The garage had two old, wooden, garage doors that led into a building that abutted directly into the wall. On one side was a door. A man with a crowbar stood on one side waiting for their signal, Agent Durant pulled out his gun and nodded. The jamb of the door was old and dry rotted and crumbled easily. Durant thought to himself that he could have just pushed it open with his shoulder. Two men with flashlights and drawn revolvers entered and stopped, their eyes meeting in triumph. Parked in the garage was R. P. Sander's rented Toyota Camry. It was the last thing they needed, both knew how easily this could have been a false trail.

The garage was dark, dusty and filled with cobwebs. At one point it had been neatly organized with shelves and a workbench in the back with peg board, but bags of garbage, boxes and other random things filled the corners and covered the floor. A pair of old, out of date, license plates lay on the floor, carelessly dropped to the floor after they had been removed. Gold nodded. He stepped back, pulled out his phone, and called in an APB for the white Cadillac, license plates missing or perhaps replaced with stolen plates. Durant muttered, "He is gone already."

Gold answered tersely, "He might come back."

As they entered the house it seemed like it had not been used in years, thick layers of dust and cobwebs covering the old furniture and outdated fixtures. Agent Durant could tell the house had once been grand, filled with fine old antiques and art. Much of it was untouched, but here and there some item was smashed and broken, a dish or piece of porcelain, a mirror on a wall. The kitchen was messy, with old caked dishes piled on counters and the table. Agent Gold opened the old refrigerator and just as quickly pushed it shut as the stench of rotting food rolled out. Agent Durant pointed out the bag and wrappers from a local drive-in hamburger chain. They looked fresh. He picked up a fry and squeezed it between his fingers. It was only a day or two old.

He felt a wave of anxiety; it only took a couple hours to go from Seattle to where the Campbell's place was. He picked up his cell phone and called Bob. "He was in Seattle a day or two ago. He could be anywhere, but be very, very careful."

Bob's voice was grim. "Okay."

"I am on my way out there."

"Good."

Agent Durant turned to Gold, "I am taking your car. Give me your keys."

Agent Gold looked at him, his eyes full of questions. "Where are you going?"

"The first place he went when he escaped was Monica's house. Junie lives only a couple hours from here. My gut tells me he is there somewhere."

"Want me to come along?"

"No, search this place. Find out what is here and then bring my car to me at the Campbell place." They exchanged keys.


As soon as he was in Agent Gold's vehicle, David called the sheriff of the county. Agent Durant could hear his irritation, "What do you want this time?"

"Card was in Seattle a couple days ago. He has a new vehicle. We think he might be driving a 1974 white Cadillac. He left the license places behind so we don't have a number for you." Picking up the report from the seat of Agent Gold's car he read off the VIN numbers. "I know this guy. He is probably already there. He won't rush in. He is smart and he will take his time to scout out the area. Can you get a deputy out to the Campbell place?"

"Damn it, I got problems of my own."

"What do you mean?"

"Some bozos have been calling in phony emergency calls. I have been chasing my tail all over the county."

"Can't you trace the calls?"

"Trace what? The whole world is on cell phones these days and it isn't just one guy. At this point I have gotten calls from no less than five different cell numbers, all of them those cheap little prepaid, throw-away phones."

Agent Durant felt his gut tighten. "Don't you think it might be Card?"

The sheriff's voice was tired and completely fed up. "How the fuck am I supposed to figure that out? I can't ignore a call just because you got problems. I have been getting all kind of calls, from injury auto accidents, to domestic violence calls, to fire, to freaking cougars eating some tourist's cat. And all of them have been bogus. If it is your guy, he has managed to turn my whole department upside down and now my truck is starting to fucking give me fits. I will drive out to the Campbell's place, but I can't live there with them."

"Don't you have a deputy?"

"You big city FBI guys make me sick. We don't have funding for a full-time deputy. I get some backup from the highway patrol and the volunteer fire department. My one deputy splits his time between me and his real job as a security guard at the Safeway."

Agent Durant floored the accelerator of the sedan and growled into the phone, "Well, keep an eye out for that white Cadillac." He hung up without saying good bye.


It was not long before his phone rang again and Agent Gold's voice was on the phone. "Thought I would give you an update, we found an empty hair dye package in the bathroom and some stains that look like he used it recently. The wrapper looks like a medium brown. On the same receipt for the dye we also found receipts for a half-dozen disposable cell phones. Oh, and we found Gwenneth. He has kind of a shrine built for her in the basement. She is parked right in the middle, still tied down on a table. Not much left, mostly bones, but he has all these knives all arranged around her."

"He has the walls down here plastered with pictures of his victims, a lot of them post mortem. There are also at least a couple dozen laptop computers stacked up on a shelf here. Some of them are labeled with the names of the victims. It's going to take crime scene a really long time to sort out this place."

"If there isn't anything else there that you can deal with; get my car and get out here. The local sheriff is useless. He has been getting a lot of false alarm phone calls from prepaid cell phones and he is so baffled that he can't see he is being played. I just know that Card is about to move and I don't think he is running. I think he wants one last kill before he cashes it in. He always talked about Monica and Junie like they were stuck in his craw."

The roads were getting narrower and the corners sharper and Durant needed both hands and all his concentration to keep the heavy sedan on the road. He grunted a quick good bye and dropped the phone on the passenger seat. It was nearly dark when he pulled into the long gravel driveway that led to the Campbell's house.

Agent Durant picked up the phone and called to let Bob know he was coming up the drive. He knew better than to arrive unannounced when a man was armed and protecting his women.


Bob put down the phone and spoke to Donna who was sitting at the kitchen table working on her computer, "David is coming up the driveway. I am going to walk out to meet him. Stay in the house." Monica and Junie were down in Junie's sewing room watching movies and sewing some new outfits for Monica. The door to the basement was locked. Donna looked up distracted and nodded, watching him go out the back door and then bent back over her computer.

Donna was still leaning over her computer when the blow hit her in the back of the head. She did not make a sound, just slumped down and then slid sideways out of her chair onto the floor.

Sam Card stood over her limp form and fingered the club he held in one hand and the knife he had in the other. The defenseless form of the woman at his feet was tempting, but he knew he only had a few minutes at the most and this one was new business. It was the unfinished ones that had been eating at him for months now and this was probably his last chance to tie up those loose ends.

He tipped his head and smiled when he heard soft conversation and a giggle over the recognizable theme of a Disney movie. He moved to the stairs and silently slipped down them. He knew where they were. He had been watching them through the low windows that let light into basement. He had been lying hidden under the low front deck of the stone house for almost two days, creeping out to drink from the lake in the dark of the night. He knew that Junie was sitting at the far side of the room behind a table. She would be hard to get to, but the littler one, Monica, was just inside the door of the room. He could grab her quick and hold the knife to her throat, threaten to kill her. That would get Junie within reach. He wanted to finish them both. He did not think about an escape route. He had not thought about what would happen after that. All he knew is that he needed to finish this.

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