Touched by Death Chapter 13
Jared disconnected the call into the station, flipping his cellphone shut and hooking it to his belt. His gun dangled from his right hand, finger looped around the trigger but arm loose and languid. He rubbed a hand over his face, scrubbing at the tension and stubble that resided there. He breathed evenly through his nose. His jaw tensed. His left eye twitched. Then he swiveled around and cracked his knuckles on the plaster wall behind him. All of the anger and frustration swished through his veins, sloshing down into his clenched fist as he swung. They just couldn’t catch a fucking break. He pulled back his throbbing hand and ground his teeth together.
He had been right there under their noses all along. Mocking them with his counterfeit sympathy and imitation anger. He was there. Admiring his work, clicking pictures of the gory mess he had carved into those girls, wiping up his mistakes. It must be killing Jensen. Knowing that this man he had trusted with his life was a serial killer in his free time. How many times had he held Jensen against his chest and consoled him after a nasty crime scene? How many beers had they shared after a rough day? Jared felt bile rise in his throat. The image of that killer with his arms wrapped around Jensen’s trusting body as he sobbed or laughed or as he shared his deepest emotions… Jared sprinted hastily outside and vomited in the shrubbery. The cool air tickled his eyelashes and cooled the sweat on his brow. He paused for a deep breath of fresh air, not contaminated with mildew and rust. The calming breath eased his stomach and he stepped back inside.
“Jare…”He’s ears prickled. The call had been soft, possibly his mind playing tricks on him. A mirage where Jensen was actually calling for him, had realized he needed him. The muscles in Jared’s arms contracted. His gun led the way as he slowly walked toward the basement door. It was slightly ajar and Jared brought up his free hand, pressing his palm flush against the wood and opening it enough to poke the barrel of his gun through. As the opening gaped wider Jared could hear scuffling, the scrape of denim on concrete, a soft groan, and Jared’s breath came fast. He charged in, mind racing with thoughts of Jensen’s sliced arm and raw wrists. He took the steps two at a time, hazel orbs flittering between the open area below and the creaky steps beneath his feet.
The room opened up in front of him and Jeffrey Dean Morgan stood in the middle of it. He looked crazier in person; his dark eyes were malicious, his mouth screwed up smirk that made Jared’s stomach roll. Jensen lay unconscious at his feet, a purple welt rising above his eyebrow. Jared licked his lips, aiming his gun at Morgan’s chest. His hands shook.
“Jared, right?” Morgan’s voice dripped with confidence, Jared took a step closer. “How convenient.”
Jared’s shoulders drew in, gun unwavering. “Jeffrey Dean Morgan you are under arrest, step away from the officer and put your hands behind your head.”
His voice came out stronger than he felt. Reassured and commanding. Morgan’s smile grew, all white teeth and sharp canines. He laughed, a low rumble in his chest and it stole the oxygen from Jared’s lungs. “I like you Jared, very…forceful. I bet Jensen likes that.”
“Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law…” Jared kept going, feet slowly shuffling closer. The hair at the base of his neck prickled.
Morgan shook his head endearingly, “Well it seems we’re at a bit of an impasse. I’m not going to prison.”
“You don’t have a choice.” Jared growled, he took another step, slowly closing the gap between them.
“My dear boy, there is always a choice.” Morgan looked down to Jensen and Jared now noticed where Morgan’s booted foot was laying over Jensen’s prone neck. “Maybe you can kill me faster than I can step down and snap his throat, maybe you can’t. Maybe you hesitate a second to long, Maybe you miss my heart by a millimeter, and maybe my foot crushes Jensen’s trachea anyways. He dies instantly. Or he suffocates slowly. Lungs burning and mind going fuzzy. The last thing he sees is how you killed him, how all you could do was stand there as his brain starved of oxygen. Are you a gambling man Jared? You want to risk your pretty boy’s life on so many variables?”
Jared swallowed thickly. He looked to Jensen, tears welling up in his eyes. His lower lip was split, his pallor white, freckles like black pinpricks across the bridge of his nose. He lowered his gun. “What do you want Morgan?”
“I made Jenny boy a promise, and I fully intend to keep it.” Morgan replied coolly, “He’s going to watch you die.”
The brashness of the words made Jared falter, like his heart missed a step and left him reeling for the railing. Instinct told him to squeeze the trigger, survive; after all this man wanted to murder him, to torture Jensen with his slow and gruesome murder. Shoot. Yet, he hesitated. Seeing the man he loved prone on the floor, how could he risk him? Perhaps his will to live with love was stronger than mere survival. His finger clenched on the trigger. Morgan broke into an ugly mock of a smile. Jared tensed, he felt a cold metal barrel press into the base of his skull.
“Put the gun down.” A distinctly female voice demanded. At his hesitation the gun dug in with more force. Jared lifted his hands and slowly crouched to place his weapon on the concrete. He craned his neck over his left shoulder to see Morgan’s accomplice. His eyes widened in shock, mouth parting as a million questions swarmed his over exhilarated brain. Samantha Morgan. “That’s a good boy.”
Morgan removed his boot from Jensen’s bared throat and snatched the gun from the concrete, tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. “Took you long enough sweet heart.”
“What have you done now Jeffrey?” Samantha griped, slender fingers running through her lengthy flaxen hair. The Beretta in her right hand seemed like an extension of her arm with the ease she handled it with. She swayed over to Jensen and kneeled beside him, her pale blue dress pooling around her knees and her white sandals scuffed dust from the ground and dirtied her unsoiled white toes. She threaded a hand through Jensen’s cropped hair and exuded a petite sigh, “He was always such a well-mannered boy.”
“You think I wanted this to happen Sam? I had no choice.” Morgan grumbled, exhibiting an emotion other than calm for the first time since Jared saw him. Samantha straightened and took her time to rise from the floor and walk over to Jeffrey. She smoothed out the lines of his shirt, leaving both hands on his chest including the one clutching her hand gun.
“Why did you start this up again my love?” Her voice was soft and sweet, like honey pouring from her lips. A hand ghosted over Jeff’s scruffy beard. He leaned greedily into the touch.
“I wanted you to come home.” His voice was garbled but pleading. There was a begging look in his eyes and Jared felt bile rise up in his throat. All of this blood and death, as a token of affection. It was like a damn Shakespearian tragedy. Samantha smiled softly and brushed her pink lips across Jeff’s. She pulled back hesitantly.
“Alright, well now we need to figure this out.” She determined, hands parting from his torso as she took a stilted step backward, leaving a couple feet of empty space between them. Morgan nodded, a whimpering look flickering over his features as she removed herself.
“I’m going to go clean the upstairs, we’ll need to move soon.” With that Morgan turned and jogged up the steps, swinging the door open and closed at the top of the flight. The wind from the door stirred dust and let in a flash of light. Jensen whimpered softly.
“Samantha. Sam. Please you don’t have to do this.” Jared begged quietly, beginning to straighten up from his crouched position. His knees groaned after being strained for so long and he winced at the pull of his calf muscles. “We can help you if you just let us go.”
“I can’t do that,” She replied shifting back on her heels. Jared kept his hands raised and he bargained with the skittish woman.
“I know you love him, but what he is doing is wrong, I know you know that. That’s why you divorced him right?” Jared reasoned, slowly straightening up and attempting to fold his 6’5” frame to look as least threatening as possible. Sam nodded timidly, biting at her bottom lip.
“I couldn’t live that way anymore. He just didn’t understand.” A slight sob stuck in her throat, “But I love him so much I tried to…”
“I know, but you have to let go now. We can get him help.” Samantha shook her head vehemently and lifted her gun arm, “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
“Of course I’m afraid! Everything is falling apart!” Samantha cried out, grabbing at her blonde curls. Her fingers tangled up and Jared swore he could hear the ripping follicles from his position.
“You can come with us. Just give me the gun and I can get you somewhere safe. You can be free of all of this. You don’t have to help him anymore.” Then she gave a hearty laugh. A terrifying cackle which made the blood in Jared’s vein turn to ice. A flicker of confusion crossed his face and she wiped a stray tear which had welled up in her eye from the fit of laughter.
“Oh sweetie you just don’t get it do you? I’m not helping Jeff, he’s helping me.” Samantha reasoned, a smirk cracking her pretty face. Her luminescent green eyes became eerie as she gave a noncommittal shrug of one pale, thin shoulder, “I’m the Poe Killer.”