My eyes opened by themselves before my alarm even rang. The room was still dark, so I knew it was still early morning hours. A rotten feeling bloomed in my chest and spread down like toxin. I sat up in bed, looking around the room. Maybe someone had broken in? I might have heard a window being broken. All seemed right. The house suddenly settled, a crack coming from the corner of our room. Or was that the creak of the stairs? Of someone coming up? My hand twitched towards the night stand to reach for the gun. I paused. Maybe I should wake Zach, but then again, it might be nothing. The kids were home, and they were too old to really sneak out. This house was also old. I shut my eyes, my ears tuning in to all the different sounds coming from just outside of our bedroom.
My heart sped up as I swore I picked up the sound of something being dragged across the hardwood floor. The floorboards creaked as if someone were trying to sneak down the hallway. I opened my eyes and snapped my head in the direction of the open door. A dark figure would be filling up the doorway, I just knew it. The seconds ticked away, at least according to the useless clock on the wall that sounded louder than the creaks in the house. Nothing appeared.
Zach let out a snore beside me, doing nothing for my nerves. Well, if I was going to be awake, then so was he. I reached out to touch his back when Jordan's face flashed through my mind. Was this motherly concern? Oh god, maybe something was happening to him. I slipped out of bed, and grabbed my phone. The stairs creaked under my weight as I made my way to the kitchen. Tea should help me get back to bed. I left the lights off, the blue of the flame on the stove providing the only form of illumination.
I checked my phone. No notifications. That was depressing. It was 4:30am, and my alarm would ring at six. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, raising the hairs on my arms. No. Kris was dead, Alexandra was dead, there were no serial killers coming for me. We'd been fine for 25 years, there was nothing to worry about. A large shadow darkened the entrance of the hallway. Oh god, there really was something in the house. I clenched my fists, urging myself to calm down. The monsters were gone, all I had were memories.
A voice called out to me by name. I unclenched my fist recognizing Zach's sleepy voice. He shuffled in, carrying my robe. He placed it over my shoulders, kissing the top of my head as I explained I'd been unable to fall back asleep. He slid onto the stool beside me, yawning loudly the way a dad always does. I rested my head on his shoulder, urging him to go back to sleep. He hummed a response, reminding me that he couldn't fall asleep by himself. Like most men, like Kris, he was scared of sleeping alone. Memories of Kris' whining if he ever had to sleep by himself soured the moment.
God, it'd been years since I had thought of him this way. Why now? I slid my body off the stool, and wrapped my arms around Zach's waist, and firmly placed my head in the crook of his neck. I internally cringed that at this age, I was still being needy. Of course, right now I didn't feel fifty-five, I felt sixteen and scared. Zach turned his body and brought me into a real hug. That was the good thing about marrying a psychiatrist, they just knew. I straightened up after about a minute to pour us both cups of tea, then we sat together in the kitchen, talking quietly until the sun began to rise.
It'd been a while since I'd seen the sun rise. I didn't miss it. Zach hit the off button when the alarm on my phone went off, then we placed our mugs in the sink. I hadn't told him that this strange feeling seemed to be pointing towards Jordan. My boy was fine. He was a capable agent, and I was worrying for nothing.
I got ready for the day, greeting Adrian and Luciana when they came downstairs for breakfast. Soon they were out the door and Zach and I were heading out too. The strange feeling returned with force this time as I got into my car and turned over the engine. No calls had come in about Jordan so he was probably fine, but maybe I should call him. I backed up out of the driveway, heading down the street.
I activated Siri to call Jordan. There was only one way to clear this bad feeling. A car zoomed up from behind me and suddenly swerved in front of me. I hit the brakes, slamming forward into the steering wheel. Pain shot down my chest, but it was soon rivaled by the pain in my hand when I slammed it into the horn. The amount of profanity that came out of my mouth would make the navy blush. The driver got out with a camera in hand. In the rearview, I spotted the local news station van pulling up.
Suddenly my car was swarmed with hands beating on the glass, cameras flashing and rolling everywhere. I pulled down the sun visor and placed a hand over my face as I hit the horn. The blaring wasn't enough to drown out the questions pouring out of the reporters in suits. What do you make of the new Doll Collector killings? Have they contacted you? Do you miss your old husband, Kris? Mrs. Marner! Mrs. Marner. Mrs. Doll Collector. Your son! Is the new killer your son?
New Doll Collector killings? I lifted my hand off the horn, using it to shield the rest of my face. I needed a safe space to think. My god the notes! This killer was mimicking Kris' murders, and proclaiming himself to be the new Doll Collector? This had to be the bad feeling. I set the transmission in park and revved the engine, laying on the horn. The crowd moved in closer to my car, calling on my bluff. Suddenly a hand hit the driver's side window. I flinched, looking up. Relief washed over me as I recognized Zach. He shoved a few people away, using his body as shield so I could open the door and prepare to slip out.
Their voices were louder and now I could hear the camera shutters. Our 25 years of peace was obliterated, all in the name of Kristopher Marner. It started small, like a spark deep within my belly, but soon the blaze of rage swelled up into my chest. It rose up into my head, making me go dizzy for a few seconds. I needed to cause damage, and if these reporters didn't get away from me, one of them was going to end up on the ground. Zach held me close to his chest as we pushed our way through. The words flying at me were changing. They sounded angry and charged.
I raised my head to where they were coming from. Other people had gathered, holding up signs of... what? Protest? They called me a whore and a slut. They accused me of raising a serial killer like his father. I saw the sun glint off of green glass bottles as they raised them. I screamed Zach's name, but they were much faster. The bottles rained down on us, shattering as they hit the ground. I felt the skin of my forehead split as one made contact with it. Some were filled with liquid I them realized was urine. The back of my head throbbed as a full bottle hit it dead center. Zach groaned beside me, cursing.
I looked up, finding a stream of blood running down his face. His eyes were ablaze with anger as another bottle filled with urine splashed at our feet. The path finally cleared and we bolted for the safety of our property. Adrian and Luciana had turned around and formed a barricade by driving their cars onto the lawn. Luciana was at the front door, waving us in, her cell phone pressed to her ear. Zach and I rushed in, hearing Adrian behind us, ordering those goddamn reporters to get off our property.
Luciana brought us towels, but what we needed were showers... and the FBI. I fumbled with the first aid kit, pressing gauze to the wound on Zach's head. He'd gone silent, a sure sign that he was angry beyond words. I worried for a moment that he was angry with me. Throughout our marriage, he'd gotten angry with me plenty of times. I brought a dog home without asking, I accidentally dinged his car when I borrowed it. But this, anger over my mistake with Kris was the type of anger I feared. It was the type of anger that led to divorce and after spending 26 years together, I couldn't let him go.
God, I sounded like Kris. I shivered at the memory, I will never let you go. Zach pressed a hand to the gauze, telling me to hit the shower first. It was then the stench of the urine really hit me. Whoever the hell filled those bottles was clearly not drinking enough water. How the hell did they get that much urine?
I turned on the water, steaming hot, and got in with my clothes on. It took all of me not to punch the tile. Kris, even from the grave you are still ruining my life. Jordan never mentioned that these murders were linked to Kris. He would have told me, wouldn't me? I'm his mother! The only living witness to the shit Kris did.
The anger continued to burn and then came the tears. I clenched a fist, cursing myself for this weakness. Now was not the time for crying, now was the time for action. I peeled off my soaked clothes, dropping them in the corner of the shower. They must be thrown away. Zach was still seated on the toilet, holding the gauze to his head when I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around myself.
He kept his eyes to the floor as he prepared to also wash off. I ignored the obvious effort to avoid talking to me and went into the bedroom without another word. He'd never once said anything negative to me about Kris. He understood all that had happened, and having seen first hand what our dynamic was, he didn't blame me. I'd heard it all: Stockholm syndrome, stupidity, you name it, but it never came from him.
I wasn't ready then and I wouldn't be ready now, to hear his true opinion of this matter. He still loved me after all these years, but I knew there had to be an expiration date on his understanding. I married a serial killer and bore his child. He hurt Zach by causing a car accident and then kidnapped me. I'd lived my life never having killed anyone until I murdered Kris in that abandoned housing complex. I was the same Maria he met at White Crest, but I was also drastically different. He stayed awake when the nightmares of killing Kris threatened to send me to the psych ward. He looked at me with those tired eyes and smiled each morning like he hadn't made a mistake marrying me.
It was a fear I lived with, and now the fear was becoming a reality. I dressed myself in a pantsuit because something told me the FBI would be calling upon me. Adrian and Luciana were both making phone calls when I went back downstairs. I heard the shower shut off, but I ignored the feeling of my heart jumping into my throat and went to pour myself a glass of water. A firm knock on the door stopped me halfway.
They just wouldn't quit, would they? I prepared to march up to the door and demand respect for my home, but Adriana was already rushing over to open it. Four people filed in, and it took me a few seconds to realize it was Adrian and Alec and two local PD officers.
Alec got to me first, lifting my face to take a look at the split skin near my hairline. He turned back to the officers, demanding the hecklers outside be arrested for assault. My cut started to throb as I told them that they had thrown glass bottles full of urine at us, also hurting Zach. The officers nodded, radioing their backup outside to start settling the crowd.
Eventually the clamoring moved further away, into the street. I settled on the sofa, rubbing my temples.
"What's going on?" Adrian asked.
"I don't know. They came out of nowhere and mobbed the car. They become violent when Zach came to pull me away. The reporters were asking about the new Doll Collector murders. They were asking about Jordan."
I let out something resembling a whimper and shakily fumbled for my phone. It was upstairs.
"I already called Jordan's supervisor. They're sending him over, but I can't reach him directly." Luciana said.
Emotion bubbled in my chest. I held my breath and clenched my stomach to keep myself from crying.
"Would you guys like something to drink? Or eat?" Luciana offered.
We decided on a round of coffee, although I wished she would make mine Irish. When she left the room, I glanced over at Adrian, my son, to make sure he was out of earshot. He was standing at the front window, eyes trained on whatever was going on outside. I leaned forward, closer to Alec and Adrian, the namesake.
"Can you two go check on Zach?" I asked quietly. "He got hit with a bottle and was cleaning his wound."
They both raised brows at me.
"Is that not something you might want to do?" Alec said.
"I'm not sure that what he needs right now, is his wife."
"Are you two fighting?" Adrian asked.
"N-no, not exactly. He just seems angry and I think it's directed at me. It would probably be better if you went up, tested the waters."
I met their gaze, trying not to appear so nervous.
"Okay, sure."
I thanked them as they made their way to the staircase. It was cowardly, sure, but I couldn't face the fact that maybe after all these years, he did resent me for blowing up his life.
The cut was on my head was beginning to throb again, a subtle reminder that this was indeed happening. The officers returned from outside, asking me to gather everyone in the house. Our kids were going to be placed under protective custody until the FBI could arrive and take over. That included Alec over in Quantico. In the meantime, Zach and I were to report to the field office to offer assistance.
I nodded, remembering that my work bag was in the car. It was probably completely trashed by now. The officers and I waited for Zach to descend into the living room. A white patch was taped to his forehead where his wound was still bleeding through. The officers confirmed that backup had arrived and proceeded to open the door.
My heart jolted when the protesting outside became louder. I wanted to reach for Zach's hand, but was too afraid of rejection. A large body suddenly ran up onto the porch. I shrunk back, ready to swing when Jordan's voice cut through my fear. He grabbed me by the shoulders, eyes scanning for injuries. He zeroed in on the cut on my head and pulled me into his chest protectively.
I squeezed him tightly, giving way to all the anxiety that had built up. Annalise appeared out of thin air, beginning to assist the officers in clearing the way. I kept my head down in case of flying bottles until we finally made it to the escort vehicle. Jordan jumped into the front seat, Annalise taking passenger. With just the backseat open, I had no choice but to share it with my husband.
I glanced over my shoulder finding the reporters had gotten back into their vehicles and were following us. Jordan asked us to buckle up, as he was about to do something. Jordan wasn't able to discuss much of his training at Quantico, but I knew one thing for sure. He had passed the precision driving course with flying colors. We slid in our seats as he lost the tail and finally headed back towards the field office.
Zach remained quiet for the entire ride. My heart was thudding even harder now, making it difficult for me to even try to break the ice. As Jordan pulled into the parking lot of the field office, I mustered up the courage to look at Zach as I unbuckled my seat belt. He glanced at me too, our eyes meeting. They weren't angry or judgmental. I wanted to curse myself for feeling like a child in his presence.
He held the door open for me as I slid out through his side. I melted into his side while we rushed into the office, he and Jordan both shielding my face in the event of reporters. Another agent met us, and led us to a back room where the team had assembled. Notes were already written up on a whiteboard. Zach and I took a seat in the only two empty chairs. The Special Agent In Charge, Paul Sherwood gave us hand outs. He tipped his head at me with a small smile as to not show too much familiarity. But we were very familiar, given that we worked together extensively when he was an up and coming agent. I'd spoken at a seminar in Quantico, and he was a bright eyed and bushy tailed student, eating it all up. We kept in touch over the course of his career, and I was very happy to hear he was finally in charge of his own office, and over my son.
He called the attention of the room.
"Team, we are assembled here, fully, to catch a serial killer. The Doll Collector has risen from the grave in a new form."
Hello! Man, it took me a long time to write and finish this chapter.
How was it??
Is Zach actually mad at Maria, or is it something else?
The dream team has assembled, and they are coming for this new killer. They have finally taken full form and reached out to Jordan right out in the open.
Will Jordan take their hand or resist?