Girl Hunted (An Ella Dark FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 3) Page 2

  “I wish. I’m just an admin worker for a school.” Amanda looked out of the window and watched the tree clusters pass by. The rickety old Volkswagen bounced as it reached 80 MPH. It seemed that he was as lenient with the traffic laws as she was. “What about you?” she asked.

  He took a deep breath and adjusted his cap. He waited a few seconds before replying. “They don’t let people like me near schools.”

  Amanda wasn’t sure she heard him right. She looked at him, expecting a wry smile to follow. Maybe he had a dark sense of humor. “Very funny. What do you do?”

  He picked up speed, pushing the 90 MPH mark. “I’m serious,” he said.

  Amanda shifted her seat. Her neck hairs stood on end. The air in the car blew hot, but Amanda felt a chill in lieu of the blasts. “Why?” she asked.

  “They think I’m trouble, those blue meanies.”

  What’s wrong with this guy? Amanda asked herself. They arrived at a stretch of road that she recognized, bringing her a little comfort. She checked her phone and the signal was full. Relief washed over her.

  “What’s your name, by the way?” she asked.

  Another long silence, like he was thinking of the answer. He held the wheel loosely in one hand and sat back in his seat. He pushed the lock down on his door.

  Amanda felt a surge of panic. A few minutes before, this guy had seemed genuine, wholesome. Suddenly, he’d become a socially awkward freak. Amanda clutched her door handle. She clenched her fists. God knows enough men had made unwanted advances on her in her thirty years of life, so she knew how to handle such a situation. Maybe he was one of those guys who got uncomfortable once women were in close proximity. She saw it from the school dads all the time. They were all talk from afar, but once they got face-to-face, it was a different story.

  “Arthur,” he said.

  Amanda just nodded and turned to stare at the familiar terrain. The closer she got to home, the more reassured she felt. She checked the time on the dashboard. Four past midnight. Another thirty-five dollars gone, but it didn’t bother her. She just wanted to get home and cuddle her little girl – and get the hell away from this creep.

  The turn-off was barely a mile ahead. The country lane turned into a stretch of road with intersections and crossings. Their car slowed down to a reasonable 70 MPH as they approached the turning for La Mesa.

  “Anywhere up here is fine,” Amanda said.

  Arthur said nothing. The turning came into view, and before Amanda make comment, the turning was behind her.

  The tiny hairs on her arms stood on end. She felt sudden nausea. She looked at her driver, focused intently on the road ahead.

  “How’s Chloe?” he asked.

  Amanda retraced their conversation, trying to recall when she mentioned her daughter’s name to this stranger.

  She hadn’t. Something wasn’t right.

  “Excuse me?” she asked, clutching the door handle to the point her fingers hurt.

  “Chloe. How is she?”

  Amanda felt her stomach tighten. The warm air suffocated her, and all she could see in her mind’s eye was her little girl waiting for her at home. Then suddenly came the terrifying possibility that she might never see her again.

  “How do you know her name?”

  “You told me. Well, your possessions told me.” He threw her purse on the dashboard. “You should be more careful.”

  “Oh my God.” Amanda realized her error. “I left that in my car?”

  “Yes. And I know what you’re thinking. We didn’t miss your turning.”

  “What are you talking about?” she spat.

  “We’re not going there.”

  “Come again?”

  Amanda reached out to grab her purse, but the man’s hand stopped her. He clutched her wrist, sending a spike of adrenaline through Amanda’s veins. He forcefully threw her arm away. “Leave that there. You won’t be needing it.”

  Amanda’s survival instinct kicked in. Every fibre in her body told her that this man had no intention of delivering her home safely, or delivering her anywhere safely. She prepared herself, tensed her muscles and brought up her forearms in front of her chest. “What? Who the fuck do you think you are? Stop the car. I’m getting out,” she screamed.

  Arthur pushed down on the gas and picked up speed. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Amanda wasn’t a fighter. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten into a scrape, if ever in her adult life. She knew that she couldn’t best a man of his stature in a physical competition and that brought on a new wave of dread.

  Amanda grabbed her phone, but the man reached over and knocked it from her grasp. It fell down the side of the chair.

  “Don’t think about calling the police,” he laughed. “If the blue meanies are going to get me, they’d better get off their asses and do something.”

  “What do you want with me, you creep?” she shouted. “Let me out of here!”

  Ideas ran through her head. Freedom was her first thought, attacking was second. Amanda tugged on the door handle, unconcerned with the fact the car was speeding along. A few scars were preferable to any more time with this lunatic.

  But the door wouldn’t budge.

  Amanda yanked harder, then tried the windows. Nothing. She slammed her hands on the glass, praying that they’d somehow shatter to pieces under her force. They didn’t. Suddenly, the man’s hands were around her throat, the car swerving along the empty road as he tightened his grip.

  Amanda contorted herself to push him away with her legs while she clawed at the door. She kicked him in the ribs, breaking his grip for a few milliseconds.

  His foot fell off the gas and the car coasted, swerving across all three lanes. He fell against the driver’s door and quickly grabbed the wheel to keep the car from smashing into a rest stop.

  Amanda heard a click. She grabbed the door handle again and yanked. The door swung open with the force of the wind, almost ripping off its hinges. The air hit her like a block of ice.

  Without hesitation, Amanda leaped from the car onto the road, the tow dragging her along the rough concrete. It tore away the flesh on her hands and ankles, but Amanda didn’t have time to register the pain. She jumped to her feet and ran across the expressway, leaping over a metal railing into an expanse of grass. A farm, maybe. She didn’t care. She ran towards a distant building and didn’t stop to look back.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ella Dark stopped her car at the entrance to the prison grounds. Suddenly, it all felt very real. Inside the building up ahead was a collection of some of the most heinous men in the country.

  Maine State Prison was a maximum-security facility that held over nine hundred inmates, including many of the East Coast’s high profile serial killers, mass murderers, terrorists, and school shooters. Those charged with life sentences were banished to Maine prison to live out their remaining years.

  Ella hadn’t told anyone about this secret rendezvous. When Ben had asked her what she was doing with her day off, she’d told him she was catching up on work stuff. She was seeing him later tonight too, so she’d give him the rest of the details then. She hadn’t heard from Agent Ripley all week, and so the opportunity to tell her never arose. Or at least, that was what Ella told herself. It was a convenient lie that protected them both.

  The nerves had almost crippled her, to the point that she thought that maybe it was all a bad idea. But a chance like this only came once in a lifetime. She’d dreamt of a moment like this for longer than she could remember. If she didn’t take it, she’d regret it for the rest of her life.

  She arrived at the barbed wire fences, rolled down her window and pushed the buzzer.

  In the small cabin to her left, a uniformed guard appeared. “Yes, Miss?” he asked.

  “Agent Dark here for visitation. Inmate number two-seven-six-one.”

  The guard flipped over the pages on his clipboard. “Campbell?” he asked with a surprised look. “Are you sure?”

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nbsp; Ella reached over to her passenger seat and pulled out her documentation. She passed it to the guard. Despite her invitation, her meeting needed to be approved by the US Department of Corrections. Most visitations were approved by the local prison management, but any contact with Tobias Campbell required consent from the highest authority. Fortunately, Ella’s status within the FBI fast-tracked the process.

  “Doesn’t get many visitors, that one.” The guard handed back Ella’s papers and returned to his cabin. The mesh gates whirred open slowly.

  Ella drove along the one-way path towards the building. Now that she was closer to it, she could scarcely believe its size. It seemed to stretch on for miles, with four huge towers on each corner almost piercing the sky. Ella saw a number of armed guards atop each one, keeping an eye on her.

  At the parking area, another guard came over to her and told her where to stash her vehicle. Ella did, then met the same man at the prison entrance. The guard swiped his keycard on the door and held it open for her.

  Inside was nothing like Ella expected. Two service desks were sitting on a polished marble floor. The air smelled fresh and clean. Awards for outstanding service decorated one of the far walls. “Please take a seat and the warden will be here to escort you through to the cells.”

  “The cells?” Ella asked. “I’m here for visitation.”

  “I know, Miss, but Tobias isn’t allowed out of his designated area. He’s confined to the Red Zone. Conjugal and regular visitations are off limits to him.”

  “How come?” she asked.

  “The warden will explain everything.” The guard left, leaving Ella alone on a white leather seat. She’d spent the past week researching Tobias Campbell to obsessive levels. She knew everything about his life and crimes, from his early farm life to the five young women he killed. Parts of his story had stuck with her to the point she’d dreamt about them, like the fact that Tobias’s father once made him stomp a burlap sack of puppies to death. As a teenager, Tobias’s favorite game was to point a rifle at a horse’s head, pleasure himself and then pull the trigger at the point of climax. It was no surprise that he had acted out similar scenes in his adult life, only with women in the place of animals.

  Then there was Agent Ripley’s story. Ella’s partner in the FBI had been the one to apprehend Tobias fifteen years prior, and when she found his rural shack, she’d found a number of personal possessions that suggested Tobias Campbell had killed much more than the FBI believed. Children’s shoes, bloody nooses, jewelry, clothing, ID cards.

  But the FBI could prove none of this, since Tobias captured Agent Ripley and made her burn the whole thing down. To this day, Ripley claimed she saw it, but the officials didn’t see it that way. They said Ripley was suffering from post-traumatic delusions.

  But now, Tobias was willing to talk. Ella had no idea what to expect from him, and the prospect of seeing this monster in the flesh was daunting. But since his letter had arrived at the FBI offices, Ella had thought of nothing else but meeting him, getting inside his head, learning how he thought. An opportunity like this could not only improve her knowledge of lust killers, but it was a rare chance to dig into Campbell’s other crimes. There were still a lot of unsolved murders out there attributed to Campbell, with plenty of circumstantial evidence placing him at the scene of various murders throughout Chicago. Unresolved murders grieved millions of families the world over, and this was a rare chance to bring closure to some of them. Not many, but even one was better than none.

  Ella heard a buzz and looked up. A well-dressed gentleman appeared from beyond the glass door.

  “Miss Dark?” he asked, extending his hand. He was fairly large, bald and bearded with sun-kissed skin. He wore an all-black suit with a white shirt and carried himself with confidence. Ex-military, Ella thought.

  “Yes, that’s me.” Jumping out of her seat and returning the gesture.

  “I’m Derrick Banks, the warden here. Have you been briefed?” He took a seat beside her.

  “No, I haven’t, sir. What do I need to know?”

  “Please, less of the sir, especially from an agent. Regular visitation rules apply, but since you’re here to meet Mr. Campbell, there are a few extra precautions we need to take.”

  Ella nodded. “I’m listening.”

  “First of all, your meeting will take place outside of Campbell’s cell. Don’t worry, he’ll be safely locked behind. We keep him in an area of the prison known as the Red Zone. For the past ten years, Campbell has been the only inmate in there.”

  Ella had heard the rumors of Tobias’s solitude but had no concrete evidence of it. Some true crime enthusiasts claimed that Campbell was kept in the basement away from the general population. Others claimed that they sometimes fed the disruptive prisoners to him.

  “I understand, but why is he so isolated?”

  “His notoriety does him no favors. Every time he’s mixed with the general pop, he finds himself on the end of beatings. A lady killer like that? The gang-bangers want him crucified. Secondly, there’s the fact we have to limit Campbell’s interaction with the other prisoners. You probably know that Campbell is well-connected, both inside and out. We do our best to keep him inaccessible but he still finds a way to communicate. Truth be told, we don’t know how he does it.”

  Ella had an idea how he did it. Informants within the prison. She decided not to mention it. “Right. Well, I’m ready. I won’t reveal any information to him.”

  “Good. But before we go, there’s one last thing you need to know about Tobias Campbell.”

  Ella waited for the warden to continue. She pulled out her mobile phone and placed it beside her. The warden took it.

  “The other reason we don’t let Campbell communicate with other inmates is that he likes to… play games.”

  Ella had heard these stories too. In fact, in her research, she’d already pieced certain things together. During Campbell’s incarceration, three inmates inside had died under suspicious circumstances. The details were kept from the public, but Ella had a feeling Campbell had something to do with them.

  “Games?” she asked.

  “Yes. Over the years, Campbell has had a number of cellmates. Well, not in the same cell, but next door. Close enough to communicate. All of those prisoners ended up killing themselves. Campbell talked them into suicide.”

  “Oh, Christ,” Ella said, her suspicions confirmed. “Do you know how he did it?”

  “We don’t. But Tobias is a master manipulator. He’s a predator who lives in people’s heads. I’ve talked with him enough to know how he works. He gets off on traumatizing people. Miss Dark, do not tell Tobias Campbell anything about your personal life. He’ll dig his claws in and won’t ever let go. Do you understand?”

  Ella complied. She rested her hand on her knee and only now realizing she’d been jigging it up and down out of anxiousness. She needed to talk to this man now. She couldn’t wait any longer.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The warden led Ella through the twisting hallways of Maine State Prison. The cells were modernized, so all that was visible were the doors with a little glass panel in the center. Long gone were the iron bars of yesteryear. Every time Ella sneaked a peek, someone was staring at her through the glass. It made her feel observed, on show.

  They descended a spiral staircase down to the bottom floor, then another staircase below ground level. Ella heard shouts and cries from the cells, piercing, shrill, booming. Prisoners hammered on the cell doors. She felt an instant sense of vulnerability, like these monsters could escape and attack at a moment’s notice. Living here must be hell on earth, she thought.

  Everything darkened in the new hallway. Gone were the overhead fluorescent lights and instead were a series of low bulbs. The warden keyed open a steel door and the first thing Ella saw was a sign declaring RED ZONE BEGINS HERE. They walked the length of the corridor, probably some fifty feet in length. By the time Ella reached the end, she could no longer hear the disturbances from the gen
eral population. Things were quiet in here, even peaceful. They arrived at a final locked door.

  Banks turned to her in the narrow hallway. “Ready?”

  “In there?” she asked.

  “Yes. He’s expecting you. Just knock when you’re ready to leave.”

  Ella summoned up the courage she needed. She told herself how rare an opportunity this was. Few people, even those in law enforcement, got the chance to meet Tobias Campbell. He was a golden-age serial killer living in the modern world. In years to come, they’d mention his name alongside Bundy, Dahmer, and Gacy. The day he died would be celebrated the world over.

  “I’m ready,” Ella said. “Let’s go.” She pulled back her hair and took a few deep breaths.

  “Remember what I told you,” Banks said before swiping open the door. Ella nodded and walked through, into the dragon’s lair. The room inside was vast, boasting two cages made of iron and glass. These weren’t the modern cells she’d just passed; they were entirely traditional. The cell to her right was empty, but in the cell to her left stood a man dressed in a crisp white jumpsuit.

  Inside was Tobias Campbell, leaning up against the glass.

  “I’m so glad you came, Agent Dark.”

  Few pictures of Tobias had made their way to the public, and the ones that did showed him in his prime. But standing in front of her was someone she didn’t recognize. Tobias had a shaved head, sharp cheekbones and incredibly pale skin. He smiled at Ella, showing two rows of jagged teeth. He was on the short side, around five-foot-eight, and his once-muscular frame had clearly deteriorated over the years. All that was left was a skinny male with sagging shoulders.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” she said, keeping her distance. Iron bars surrounded the outside of the glass box. Double protection.

  “Come closer so I can hear you better. Don’t be scared.”

  Even though Tobias was caged, Ella still felt vulnerable. She eyed him up and down, taking in his stature and his posture. He held himself upright with an undeserved confidence. His eyes glittered piercing green. Behind him, she saw the basic prisoner necessities. Sink, toilet, a white mattress on a metal frame. A pile of leather-bound books sat beside a wooden chair on the opposite side of the cell. But among these basic provisions were objects surely to Campbell’s preference: a chessboard with its pieces neatly arranged, a deck of well-worn playing cards, a small bronze statue of an armored horse. In the opposite corner of his cell stood a wooden easel with a half-finished painting attached. The outline of a horse leaping over a fence had been messily etched. Ella thought back to Tobias’s childhood and felt her blood turn to ice.