Chapter Four
Frank's body seemed to move on its own volition as he got out of the car and stumbled towards Nancy's abandoned one. He knew he was actually there, but he didn't feel as if he was. It was almost like an out-of-body experience, as if he was watching the scene from far above. It was a nightmare and at any moment he expected to wake up, finding Nancy in bed beside him, safe and sound.
But he knew this wasn't something he could just snap his fingers and awake from. This was real—as real as the smooth, cool metal beneath his hand as he ran them along the chassis of the car. He'd been so relieved almost to the point of passing out when he'd found out the girl at the bus station wasn't Nancy. That confirmation gave him the hope—even if it was the slightest—that she was okay and he was just overreacting.
The blue Mustang abandoned on the side of the road brought all those fears crashing back. Even if the car broke down, Nancy would have taken care of making sure the car was locked up tightly before she left it. The car had been a sixteenth birthday present from her father and she took great pride in the vehicle. It had been through so much with her—it had been vandalized, blown up, shot at, and wrecked. The car had always been an extension of her, but now, with it left on the roadside, it was like a punch in the stomach.
Joe came around and joined Frank, handing his brother a flashlight. Frank took it without a word, his body instinctively going into detective mode. He had to keep telling himself that this was just another case, that Nancy was just another client—it was the only way he would be able to maintain his sanity. Turning the beam on, Frank played it around the ground, looking for any telltale signs of a struggle.
"It doesn't look like she was hit from behind," Joe said a few moments later, his breath clouding in front of him in the chilly October air. "That would have been the easiest way to subdue her."
Frank wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried. If she wasn't forced off the road, then why did she pull over in the first place? It's not something Nancy would do unless she had no choice, whether it was against her will or she needed to check up on something. Frowning, Frank walked over to the passenger side, his eyes narrowing.
"Hey, Joe…come look at this." Frank ran the beam of the light along the dirt on the shoulder of the road. "Does that look like drag marks to you?"
Joe joined his brother, kneeling down with his flashlight. After a few seconds, he nodded. "Looks like signs of a struggle. There are footprints here, too."
Good girl, Frank thought. At least you put up a fight. He continued to the passenger side, the light bouncing along the interior. Nancy's purse was lying on the floorboard, the contents spilling out. Using a tissue from his pocket, he rummaged around, but didn't see any sign of her cell phone.
"Frank, I think I see some blood."
Fear shot through Frank as he moved away from the car, joining Joe a few yards away. Under the beam of Joe's light, a few drops of a dark substance mixed in with the dirt. Frank tried to convince himself that it was oil from a car, but it was much too big a coincidence to be anything other than blood.
Nancy's blood.
"This doesn't necessarily mean anything, Frank," Joe said, gently. "There's such a small amount here, the killer could have just hit her to get her to stop struggling. Hell, it could even he his blood."
Turning away from Joe, Frank walked back to the car. There had to be something there to tell him where Nancy might be, even if it was something small. He couldn't give up hope that the killer may have left something behind. He took his time as he went over every single inch of the interior, looking under floor mats, between the seats, and underneath them. He barely even registered Joe talking on his phone, presumably calling the police to report Nancy's car.
Frank was about to give up on his search when something glinted underneath the brake pedal. Quickly pushing himself out of the passenger side, he jogged around the car and opened the driver's side door. Using the tissue, he reached inside and picked the mysterious item up, holding it up to the beam of the flashlight.
"The police are on their way," Joe said, frowning when he saw Frank. "Did you find something?"
Standing up, Frank studied the object. It was a cufflink—gold with an eagle etched on the surface. Something tugged at his memory, almost as if he'd seen the cufflink somewhere before. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not bring the recollection to the surface. He handed it to Joe without a word.
"You think this belongs to the killer?"
Frank pursed his lips, deep in thought. "Well, it certainly doesn't belong to us. We're not known to parade around in suits. As far as I know, we're the only other men who ride around in Nancy's car."
"It could belong to her father," Joe said, returning the cufflink to Frank.
Wrapping it up in the tissue, Frank stuffed it into his jacket pocket. He didn't want the police to know he'd found it, preferring to keep the evidence to himself. Normally, he'd readily give up any evidence, but something was telling him to withhold sharing it. "I suppose," Frank finally acquiesced.
It was true Nancy's father, Carson Drew, could have possibly lost the cufflink. Being a prominent criminal attorney, he wore suits every day for court. But Frank honestly couldn't remember the last time Carson had been in Nancy's car. Besides, he was sure her father would have said something if he'd misplaced his cufflink.
"You're not going to turn it over to the police?" Joe asked.
Frank shook his head. "No. It's the only clue we have right now and besides, they're too busy with the recent murder to trace something as trivial as a cufflink."
"You've seen it before, haven't you?"
"I think so," Frank admitted. "But for the life of me, I can't remember where."
Joe didn't get to say anything as the sounds of sirens cut through the air, the blue and red strobe lights appearing in the distance as they crested over the hill.
Nancy must have drifted off sometime during the night, though she couldn't remember when or how, especially with the haunting image of Alison slowly dying in front of her seared into her brain. As soon as Wesley had left her alone in the dark, eerie basement, Nancy allowed herself to cry. Not out of fear or pity, though she was scared to death. She'd be stupid if she wasn't—Wesley was as cold-blooded as they come, not to mention cruel and sadistic.
She'd cried out of anger and frustration—anger for letting herself be charmed by Wesley, anger for stumbling onto his lair, anger at herself for not being able to save Alison, anger at herself for getting caught, anger at herself for being unable to stop him from killing Alison, anger at Wesley for making her watch as he tortured Alison and finally frustration. She was beyond frustrated that she couldn't free herself and stop Wesley from killing any more women. The fact that she was now next on that list only added to her frustration.
And Frank and Joe had no clue—about where she was, about Wesley being the killer. She couldn't even warn them or alert them to her whereabouts. The best she'd been able to do was drop her necklace, but she didn't have any guarantees that they would find it. It was been done out of desperation and hope that somehow, Frank and Joe would come to his house and find it.
When she finally managed to drift off to sleep, it was fraught with nightmares. Several times, she had startled herself awake in a panic, only to find the basement still plunged in darkness, Wesley nowhere to be seen.
So, the next time she was startled awake caught her by complete surprise when she saw the basement was bathed in bright light and Wesley was standing in front of her, smiling.
"Happy Halloween, Nancy. Or should I say trick or treat?"
The fight or flight instinct immediately took over and Nancy kicked out at him as hard as she could, groaning as the effort caused strain to her already numb arms. She took satisfaction in his shocked expression, watching as he stumbled back several steps.
Wesley quickly regained his composure, backhanding her hard across the face. Nancy let out a muffled cry before glaring at him, wishing the look alone would make him drop dead. Amused, he reached forward and ripped the tape away from her mouth, his smile growing as she cried out in pain.
"You look like you might have something to say, Nancy."
Nancy flexed her mouth, her skin tingling where the tape had been ripped off. "Kiss my ass, you son of a bitch."
"You have such a fiery little temper, don't you?" Wesley asked, chuckling as he stepped out of the way when she shot out with her feet, trying to kick him once again. "Maybe that's what Frank Hardy likes about you so much. I can't say that I particularly blame him." He arched a brow, slowly running his tongue over his upper lip. "I bet you're magnificent in bed."
"Don't you talk about him," Nancy said, her voice like ice.
"Why not?"
Nancy ignored him, refusing to let him bait her any further. "What did you do with Alison?"
"I dropped her off at the bus station. Aren't you curious about your boyfriend? I would have thought that would have been your first question." His smile grew when Nancy refused to say anything. "He's a complete wreck, blaming himself for you going missing. Of course, I played my part, blaming myself. After all, I was the last person to see you last night, Nancy."
"You're nothing but a sick bastard."
Nancy knew exactly what he was doing, taunting her, trying to make her feel intimidated and afraid. She wouldn't give in to him. As long as she was still alive, there was still a chance for her to be saved. Not that she liked that prospect any better—Nancy Drew was not one who needed rescuing. She prided herself in being able to take care of herself. But she also wasn't naive enough to realize the odds were not exactly in her favor.
"You should have seen him when we got the call that a body had been found. He was so afraid that it was going to be you." Wesley eyes gleamed with glee as he stared back at Nancy. "You should have seen how relieved he was when he found out it wasn't."
"If I knew you were going to regale me with a monologue, I would have stayed asleep."
"Anxious to know what I have planned for you?"
"I've already seen what you have planned for me. You gave me a front row seat to it, Wesley. Or have you already forgotten?"
"Oh, no, Nancy. You haven't seen anything. I have something much better planned for you."
Nancy tried to keep the fear off of her face as she stared back at him. What could he possibly have planned for her? Every previous victim had been killed the same way—bodies almost completely exsanguinated, death by asphyxiation. He hadn't steered away from that pattern of killing yet.
"What are you going to do?"
"You'll see."
"Why haven't you killed me yet?"
Wesley turned away from Nancy and walked over to the table, picking up the knife. Turning back to face her, he stared at the blade with fascination before his eyes locked with hers. "You know my pattern, Nancy. In fact, you know me better than most people. You know I only kill the women at night."
"Then why didn't you kill me last night?" Nancy asked, tensing as he stopped in front of her, running the blade along her collarbone. "Why didn't you let me take Alison's place?"
"Because Alison was meant to be number six. You were always meant to be number seven."
Nancy swallowed hard. "Always?"
Wesley nodded. "From the very first moment I saw you, I knew you would be the final victim here in River Heights. There was no other choice for me." Strolling behind her, Wesley ran his hands along her arms, making her shudder. "Lucky number seven."
Before she even knew what he was planning, she felt the knife cut through the rope holding her prisoner. She collapsed to the ground in a heap, her legs unable to support her weight after being trussed up for so long. She noticed her hands were still tightly bound, but none of that mattered as she turned on her back, staring up at him as he loomed over her.
"There's no escape, Nancy, so don't even think about trying to get away from me."
Nancy maintained eye contact with him as she slowly scooted back away from him. She knew in the back of her mind that this was probably going to be her only chance to get away. She had to wait for the right moment—one mistake and that would be it. She let Wesley pull her up by her bound hands, her feet somehow staying underneath her.
"I never told you how beautiful you looked in your dress," Wesley murmured, his eyes running lazily along her body as he ushered her backwards. A quick glance told her that he was taking her to the table where she'd found Alison. "I picked the color just for you. It brings out your eyes."
Seeing her only chance to fight back, Nancy head butted him, making him let go of her as he let out a startled yell. Before he could regain his balance, Nancy launched out with her foot, nailing him in the stomach. She wasted no time making a break for the stairs, the open door beckoning her forward.
"You stupid bitch!"
Wesley didn't even let her make it up the third step before he tackled her, her head hitting the wood with a sickening thud. Somehow, it only stunned her, spots dancing in front of her eyes as he jerked her to her feet and dragged her to the table. He threw her bodily onto it, taking advantage of her disoriented state as he grabbed the ropes around her wrists and lashing them above her head, pulling tightly until she let out a cry of pain. Then moving down to her ankles, he repeated the process, strapping them down to either end.
Nancy felt tears sting the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She was truly and utterly screwed, and she knew it.
"Do you feel better now that you got that out of your system?" Wesley's tone was mocking as he smiled down at her. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "As much as I'm angry at you for your little outburst, I have to admit it turns me on. I've never had anyone fight back, Nancy. I may have to do this more often—it's intoxicating."
"Go to hell!"
"Oh, no, sweetie. I have no plans of going there for a very long time." Turning away from her, Wesley walked over to a large free-standing shelf unit. It was the first time Nancy had noticed it, and when he turned the light on above the first shelf, she was glad she hadn't seen it before.
The unit stood at least six feet tall and had to be just as wide. Nancy wondered vaguely how he managed to get it down to the basement, considering this wasn't his home to begin with. She pushed the thought away, her mind registering with mounting horror what she was actually seeing. On the top shelf, there were six glass jars containing a yellowish liquid surrounding a heart.
Actual human hearts.
Picking up one of the jars, he brought it over to Nancy. "Trophies," he said as a way of explanation.
"They're hearts…"
"They are." He stared at it longingly, as a collector would admire a piece of art. "I carry them with me everywhere I go."
"Shouldn't you have a lot more?"
Wesley smiled indulgently. "I only take the hearts from my final victims in each city. I wanted to take yours as well, but I think I've come up with something better."
"What are you talking about?"
Ignoring her, Wesley walked back over to the shelves, placing the jar back into its place. "You truly have no idea how special you are to me, Nancy. I think you're going to bring me the best luck. After all, seven is a very lucky number—and you make victim number seven on my seventh year of killing."
"I'm not interested in being special to you or bringing you luck, Wesley."
"That's too bad. You don't really have much say in it at the moment, do you?" Flipping another switch, the second shelf was illuminated in light. He chuckled as Nancy let out a strangled gasp. "Don't be afraid, Nancy. They'll only harm you if they feel threatened."
Nancy couldn't tear her eyes away from the shelves as the rest lit up one by one, showing similar contents. Glass cases were nestled against each other, revealing a spider in each one. Wesley was taking this spider obsession to a whole new, creepy level. She watched as he ran his hand lovingly along each surface.
"Your immediate reaction is to fear them. But it's like I told you before, they are just misunderstood creatures."
"You can say it all you want. That doesn't make me like them any more than I do now."
"Do you remember when I told you I wasn't going to kill you how I did with the others?" Wesley asked as if she didn't speak. "I told you I had something very special planned for you."
Nancy had a sinking feeling she wasn't going to like what he had planned. And she had a really bad sinking feeling it was going to involve the spiders. Why else would he even show them to her?
"With all the species of spiders in the world, did you know that only a handful is harmful to humans? And out of that handful, only a few are actually fatal. They have to inject enough venom into you in order to kill you." Wesley pulled a case from the shelf and brought it over to Nancy, setting it beside her head.
Nancy couldn't help but flinch as the large brown spider moved around. "Get it away from me."
"This is the Brazilian Wandering Spider. Depending on who you ask, it's the most venomous spider in the world." Wesley knelt down beside the table so he was eye level with the arachnid. "Only the Australian Funnel Web Spider rivals it. Isn't he beautiful, Nancy?"
Shaking her head, Nancy turned away from it. She was so close to losing it, she was practically shivering. She'd always been afraid of spiders—deathly terrified even. She could face down any crazy criminal with no problem, but show her a spider and she would run for the hills.
"What do you say, Nancy? Are you ready to get up close and personal with our little friend?"
And we've reached yet another cliffhanger. I would say I'm really sorry about it, but we all know that's not true. I enjoy them—maybe a little too much.
As for Nancy's car, yes, Wesley did in fact plant it there, along with the blood and signs of a struggle. The man is extremely craft and knows how to cover his tracks.
I would love to thank the following for their reviews: Caranath (You're not vindictive and bloodthirsty at all. You hide it very well!), hlahabibty (Totally normal that you want to kill Wesley!), ILoveMom (Hold on to your seat—it's only going to get bumpier from here!), SarahE7191 (More drama coming your way!), Stork Hardy (Looks like Wesley just made his first mistake…), Mrs. Frank Hardy (Hope you were creeped out with this chapter!), lys (I can't tell you what I have up my sleeve…), SC15 (Yay! I want you to feel the panic along with Nancy's fear! I know I do as I write it!), and Michelle Gallichio (The boys really do need a hug…).
Also, I would love to thank Lady Emily for her help!
Let me know what you think and I will see you tomorrow!
