Page 59 of PenPal Hero

Holt sat back in his chair, blinking a few times at the strangely familiar tune. The spider isn’t real. None of this is real, he reminded himself. There must be something about the weird tune that was activating one of his triggers. He fought it by replaying Jude Westfield’s advice inside his head. Question everything you see and hear. This particular vision was easy to discredit, since there was no way he was sitting in front of a life-sized spider.

The spider started laughing hysterically. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Holt ignored the man’s comment, forcibly dragging forth his memory of the nerdy-looking guy who’d first stepped into the room. He was a complete loser, who was on his way to jail where he couldn’t unlawfully and immorally tamper with anyone else’s mind.

The pale, slender fella slowly came back into focus.

“Why me?” Holt was careful to keep his voice evenly modulated, not wanting to give the guy the satisfaction of knowing just how badly he’d messed with his head. Again.

“Why not?” Spider Guy kept breaking into snickers, as if he wasn’t taking any of this seriously. Since the police hadn’t yet been able to pinpoint his identity, maybe he thought he was untouchable. Unprosecutable. Or maybe he’d been playing god for so long with his victims that he’d entirely lost his sense of right and wrong. Or maybe he was just plain crazy.

“Why Bonnie Yates?” Holt was watching Spider Guy close enough to detect a faint tightening of his facial features. Gotcha, you punk! Two could play at this game.

“Where is she?” Spider Guy demanded.

“Some place safe,” Holt taunted.

Spider guy burst out laughing again. “You still think she’s the one who needs protecting, eh?”

“From you? Yes.” Holt felt like they were finally getting somewhere.

“All I am and ever will be is a scientist.” Spider Guy spread his hands, making the chains connecting his cuffs rattle. “Bonnie, however, was born to kill.”

“Baloney,” Holt snarled. During his initial training at K&G Security, he’d been required to memorize some of the most common red flags exhibited by serial killers — reclusive individuals who got a kick out of setting fires and harming small animals. Bonnie was none of those things. She was kind, caring, and compassionate.

“Trust me.” Spider Guy curled his upper lip at Holt. “Your country hick of a sheriff arrested the wrong person. Jackson’s death will be on him. And you.” He broke into another fit of maniacal laughter as Holt shot out of his chair.

“Guards!” Holt signaled for the prison guards to return Spider Guy to his cell. Making a beeline for the sheriff’s office, he burst through the door without knocking.

Cade Malone glanced up from his computer, scowling ferociously. “Holt, I know we’re friends and all, but?—”

“Bonnie has been programmed to kill,” Holt ground out hoarsely. Repeating his conversation with the prisoner made his earlier vision of the big, black spider waver in and out of view. He slapped his hands down on the sheriff’s desk to steady himself. “Spider Guy claims Jackson is already dead!”

“Spider guy?” The sheriff’s eyebrows rose.

“The ringleader dude from the underground lab.” Holt forced himself to straighten, dragging in a soul-cleansing breath. The last thing he needed right now was for the sheriff to write him off as crazy. “I just got back from that visit you authorized with him.” He cleared his throat. “We’ve gotta find a way to get in touch with Jackson.”

Cade was already reaching for his phone and dialing. He held it to his ear. “Foster? We’ve got a situation. Any chance you can patch Jackson Yates in on a three-way call?”

“Hold on a sec.” Foster put him on hold, and the line grew silent.

Moments later, Jackson’s voice wheezed across the line, “Not a good time, boss man.”

There was a scream in the background and a muted thud.

“Bonnie,” Holt shouted, leaning closer to the phone. “Are you alright, babe?”

“Not exactly,” Jackson panted. “She’s having another one of her episodes. We’ve got a security guard down, and—” Another muted thud cut off the rest of what he was about to say.

By “episodes,” Holt could only assume that Bonnie was struggling with the false images that had been planted inside her head. The same as I am. Instead of transposing serial numbers and seeing life-sized spiders, however, she was mistaking the good guys for the bad guys. Talk about a fail-safe! The mind control criminals had thought of nearly everything. Having their victims tie up the “loose ends” for their captors was a brutal plot twist, one Holt hadn’t seen coming.

Though he’d never been a big fan of religion, he believed in God. Bowing his head, he begged, “Lord, please help Bonnie see what’s real and what’s not.” Jackson’s very life might depend on it.

“Where are you?” the sheriff demanded, half coming out of his swivel chair.

Jackson rattled off the address. “Hurry!”

To Holt’s astonishment, it was only a few miles away at a motel on the outskirts of town. You’ve gotta be kidding me! He dashed for the door.

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