Depraved 2 by Bryan Smith

instant saw only a stretch of empty road behind them, but then bright headlights appeared as the cruiser pulled out into the street, its back end fishtailing for a moment as the driver raced to catch up to them. There had been no one behind the wheel of the cruiser mere moments ago. Whoever was driving it now had come tearing out of that building in a hurry. Jessica had realized the building might not be empty upon spotting the cast aside padlock and chain that had secured the rear entrance.
    The burp of a siren sounded and the cruiser’s roof lights began to strobe.
    Billy glanced at Jessica.
    She detected a troubling hint of cunning in the slant of his eyes. He was trying to conceal it but was doing a lousy job of it.
    Jessica sighed. “Logic should tell you this is no real cop. It’s just some predator using a stolen cruiser. This isn’t your way out of this situation.”
    Billy began to ease the truck over to the curb. The look he gave Jessica was almost apologetic. “All I know is you’ve threatened me a bunch of times and I can tell it’s not just talk. You really would kill me if you thought you had to. Shit, I feel like you’ve been thinking about it nonstop since we got here. Go ahead. Deny it. Lie to my face.”
    Jessica didn’t say anything. What could she say? It was just the truth. The guy was no dim bulb..
    The truck came to a full stop and Billy wrenched the gearshift over to P. He glanced at Jessica again as he switched off the engine. “The way I see it, I gotta take my chances here. You might be right about what’s happening here, but you could be wrong.”
    “I’m not.”
    The cruiser parked behind them, but the driver didn’t get out immediately. Jessica’s grip tightened on the gun. She kept her gaze on the rearview mirror, waiting to see that door open.
    Billy shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out in a minute. Maybe you should just get out and start running.”
    The cruiser’s driver’s side door popped open.
    Jessica snatched the keys from the truck’s ignition before Billy could react. Moving fast now, she hopped out of the truck and got her gun up and aimed before the cruiser’s driver had time to react. The fake cop stood in the road with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide with surprise. He was a big guy with a muscular build. He wore a flannel shirt and jeans and his facial features had the off-kilter look of the slightly inbred. Not deformed in the way of the grotesque Kincher clan. Just off. His eyes were a little too wide-set and his sloped forehead protruded just a shade too much.
    Clutched in his big hands was a pump shotgun.
    He started to raise it.
    Jessica fired twice, the suppressor emitting two flat cracks as both rounds hit center mass and dropped the big redneck like a slab of meat. The shotgun flew from his hands and skittered across the asphalt. Billy burst out of the truck and ran into the street, apparently intent on making a diving grab for the shotgun.
    Jessica rolled her eyes.
    Fucking hell.
    She shifted her aim and fired again.
     
     

 
    9.
     
    Daphne had been hanging from the chain for hours by the time activity in the diner’s kitchen began to wind down. Time was hard to gauge in a state of constant discomfort and anxiety, but she was sure it wasn’t any later than mid-afternoon. She figured Mama Hunt’s was the kind of place that catered primarily to a breakfast and lunch crowd. It was possible things would ramp up again as evening approached, but that didn’t seem likely. The buzz of dining area conversation had dimmed and meals were no longer being prepared. Most of the kitchen staff appeared to have gone home for the day. Those who remained were cleaning up and putting things away. The table where the butchers had methodically taken apart the unfortunate woman with their cutting instruments was now sparkling clean. It was almost possible to believe the grisly act hadn’t actually occurred.
    But it had happened, and Daphne knew it would