The Butterfly Killer

Chapter 13

13

Marcus jolted awake. He felt like he'd been shoved through the wringer. Further more, his back was sore. He couldn't move without it feeling like he was tearing his muscles. He groaned as he sat back when he realized he didn't have the strength to sit up.

His blurry vision came into focus. Someone was sitting at his side. For a split second, he thought it was Patrice. Except when he looked at the man sitting at his side, it looked nothing like the medical examiner.

All that had happened before came rushing back to him. He didn't know how he'd forgotten. Crazily enough, he almost didn't believe it. It all felt like a bad nightmare. And for a second, he almost believed his mind was playing tricks on him. Perhaps his sickness was muddying his mind and making him imagine things.

"You had a nightmare."

Marcus coughed. A cup of water was held in front of his mouth. He drank it without a fuss.

"You're a nightmare."

That got him a snort from Roman.

"Good one. You're so witty."

Marcus shook his head as the glass was offered to him again. Roman sat it on the box.

"I'd like to say you're getting better."

"But?" Marcus prepared for the worse. Roman was going to say the infection had spread up his leg and he'd have to amputate. Or that Roman had enough with the games and was going to end it all here.

Roman got up. He pulled the blankets up from the bottom and looked at Marcus's feet.

"Can you wiggle your toes for me?"

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't stomach saying it. He wished he could be in the joking mood. However, the thought of being paralyzed frightened him enough that he lost his ability to speak.

Marcus wiggled his toes as best as he could. They were rigid which he hoped was simply because he'd been bed ridden for a couple days.

Roman lowered the blanket. "Good news is they work."

Marcus let out the breath he'd been holding. "The bad?"

Roman didn't move from where he stood. He looked to be thinking about something.

"Your left leg needs to be reset."

Marcus choked. "What? When the fuck did I break it?"

He thought back to when he'd been taken by Roman and even further back than that when he was locked up in the shed by a maniacal rapist. Nowhere in his timeline did he remember breaking his leg.

Roman nonchalantly shrugged. "The first time you escaped."

Marcus sputtered, utterly confused. "The first time? What are you talking about? I never even got past the front door!"

Roman leaned down and grabbed a bag he pulled onto the bed. "I drugged you after I knocked you out. The first time you tried to run was when I brought you here before the snowstorm blocked the roads."

He unzipped the small bag. He searched for something inside and when he found it, he set it to the side.

"The drugs had depleted from your system. I didn't expect you to wake up until a couple more hours."

Marcus clenched his teeth in irritation. "Get on with it. What happened?"

Roman looked at him from under his lashes. It was a look of warning.

"I'm getting to it," Roman said. He lifted whatever he grabbed from the bag. It was a vial of clear liquid. In his other hand he held a needle.

Marcus's blood went cold. "You're not poking me with that! No fucking way!"

"You went running and I knew you wouldn't get far before you started to freeze. I was going to wait you out and search for you later." Roman popped off the needle's cap. He twisted off the lid of the vial and punctured the seal with the needle. "But I didn't have to do that. You tripped down a slope and landed on a pile of conveniently placed rocks."

He filled the syringe with the clear liquid. He didn't so much as grin as he looked at Marcus. The look in his eyes was eerily calm. He wasn't fazed by the events he was describing or that he was about to stick Marcus with a needle. Or even that he was going to break Marcus's leg again so it could properly heal.

Marcus's chest heaved. His pulse spiked, his throat swelling as Roman stepped around the bed and toward him.

"You're insane."

Roman grinned. "Not the first time someone's told me that."

He grabbed Marcus's arm. It was inevitable what came next. Marcus didn't fight it as Roman stuck him with the needle. He felt the liquid drain into him so vividly he could write a poem about. The slide of it into his vines, the coolness that spread from the spot, and the good feeling that rushed to his head.

His muscles relaxed and his racing heart slowed.

"Am I dying?" He asked. He didn't sound sad or scared. His voice was almost content. In that moment alone, he wasn't afraid of dying without accomplishing his goals.

Roman patted him above the injection spot. "No. Not yet."

He moved back to the bottom of the bed. He threw the blankets off Marcus's body completely, exposing him to the chilly air.

Marcus was sluggish as he tried to move away from Roman.

"Na-ah. Stay exactly where you are." Roman grabbed him by his good ankle and pulled him down.

He grabbed the broken leg. "1...2..."

He snapped the bone before he got to three. Marcus screamed and then clamped his mouth shut, biting his tongue. He writhed in the bed as he grabbed the pillow and squeezed it to his chest. The shot had numbed the spot but not completely. He screamed again as Roman gently sat his leg down.

"You fucking bitch!"

"It hurts worse because it healed wrong. Be thankful I gave you something for it."

Marcus cursed Roman in his head. He slammed his fists into the mattress as he cried about the pain. He hid his face in the pillow so Roman couldn't see him. He just knew the sick fuck would like to see that. He was probably getting off on him screaming in pain right now.

Marcus laid there, sniffling but also trying to be quiet about it. He heard Roman leave to his side of the room and sit at his desk. The sounds of him working eased Marcus in some insensible way. The pain in his leg grew further away as the shot grew stronger the longer it was in his system.

Roman definitely could have waited. The man's impatience made Marcus more sure Roman had wanted him to feel some pain.

"Freak," Marcus grumbled into the pillow.

Roman stopped. Marcus stilled as he wondered if the man had heard him and was going to come do something about it.

Except Roman didn't do anything besides go back to his work. He was quiet besides the little rustles Marcus heard. He breathed into the pillow wishing he had the guts and strength to smother himself.

When it became too hard to breathe and he felt on the brink of passing out, he lifted his head. His face was swollen from crying and his cheeks were creased from pressing them into the rough fabric of the pillowcase.

He watched Roman's silhouette from the other side of the curtain. He went from angry to curious as the long minutes passed through the silence. He sagged into the flimsy mattress, his whole body taken over by a good numbness. He could see himself getting addicted to this.

Not being here but this feel-good silence rolling over him. He was so numb to everything that for once in his life he didn't feel the need to do anything at all. The melancholy wasn't horrible as he thought it would be. Instead, he wished it would end.

Though, that wish was one he'd regret later on. No matter how good the drug made him, he didn't want to be stuck here with a mad man.

As he watched Roman lean over to work, Marcus imagined what he was doing. He was working with something small so it was probably another insect. The butterflies lining the walls seemed to be his favorite—which wasn't at all surprising—so he might have been working on one of them.

Marcus imagined Roman moving the wings of the butterfly to the perfect position, manipulating the poor thing until it showed its most beautiful side. Or what Roman deemed to be the most beautiful.

It was both sick and interesting that Roman wanted to collect something he found beautiful. The insects and other animals he collected were nothing more than trophies. They were art for his own pleasure, not caring about the creatures at all. He wanted them dead because that was the only way he could preserve their beauty.

Marcus couldn't go back to sleep. From all the laying around he was doing, he was going to go insane. He couldn't do anything but stare at the ceiling, stare at the wall, or stare at the curtain. The third option was the most interesting even if he couldn't see exactly what Roman was doing.

It was just as interesting to guess what Roman was doing rather than to see it.

And it was probably better for his stomach. When the smell of formaldehyde became stronger or Roman filled jars with alcohol, Marcus rather not liked to image what he was doing. He already knew it was a dead animal.

The worse was when Roman left outside and brought back bags of lumps.

So that was how he was storing the corpses.

Roman had made a show of getting dress and going outside. While it wasn't snowing as heavily as it was before, it was still deep enough that Marcus didn't want to chance going out there. The image of the wide expanse of white had made his stomach drop. His anxiety at that picture had been enough for him to know he wasn't getting out of here without some high-chance he'd die out there.

When Roman came back, he placed the black trash bags behind the curtain and then removed his bulky clothing. His face was flushed red by the biting cold. Marcus tried to ignore how pretty he looked—it wasn't like he'd intentionally thought about it or noticed it. Anyone who saw Roman would immediately say he looked like the angels people loved to paint.

Right now, Marcus was forced to watch Roman behind the curtain. He'd spared Marcus a look before he disappeared behind there again but that was it.

Marcus couldn't stand to stare anymore. He clenched his jaw as he forced himself to get up from the bed. He pulled himself upright by using the bed as something sturdy when he heard the curtain part and felt Roman behind him.

"Lay back down."

Marcus waited. When Roman didn't do anything, he turned around with a glare.

"I'm bored out of my fucking mind. I'm not laying back down." He hobbled away, his heart pounding in his chest. He half expected Roman to shove him onto the mattress and tie him up. But he didn't.

Roman just watched him struggle to walk over to the kitchen. He filled a cup with water and downed it. He gasped for air after and then went for a second. Still, Roman watched him.

When he was done drinking to his fill, he hobbled to the chair Roman had been sitting in and had read his book. There was a shelf next to the somewhat cushioned chair. All of the books were old, the latest from the eighties at best, and Marcus didn't recognize any of them.

He picked up a random one, Intergalactic Quest, and flipped to the first chapter.

The left side of his face burned from Roman's stare. He stood there for a few minutes and while Marcus tried to focus on the words on the page, all he could focus on was Roman and what he was going to do next.

Eventually, Roman stepped back into his little nook and went back to work. Marcus sighed with relief.

At least he could get lost in this story and somewhat forget where he was.

However, a problem arose half an hour later. It was a problem he couldn't brush off without having some embarrassing consequences.

Marcus scrunched his face and shifted in the chair as his bladder began to hurt. He ignored the pain and successfully held it in for another fifteen minutes. But the pain got worse and it was evident that if he waited too long, he was going to piss himself.

He slowly closed the book and put it to the side. He listened to the sound of Roman working. He thought over all the possible scenarios in his head and they all ended with him either asking for help or Roman thinking he was trying to escape and Marcus wetting himself on accident.

He pushed down his pride and stood up.

"I'm going pee," he announced as if he was still back at the station and needed to report.

He was slowly but surely making his way to the front door when he heard the curtain pull open. He grappled for the door handle and just managed to twist it open when he heard Roman's heavy and quick footsteps behind him.

The door burst open from a strong wind, the cold air hitting him like a brick wall. The door flew out of his hand and slammed into the stool in front of the lounge chair. Marcus ignored it and limped out onto the tiny porch.

"Marcus!" Roman sounded like a disappointed parent as he lunged for the front door in an attempt to close it.

The snow turned Marcus's bare feet to ice as he stepped out. He made it only a couple feet before he felt like he was going to keel over. He was frozen like a statue when he made it down the first step.

But he was already out here and he wasn't going to go back inside.

His hands shook as he reached for his pants and pulled himself out.

"Are you serious?" Roman grabbed him and was about to jerk him back when he looked down at Marcus's crotch.

He turned his head, shaking it in disbelief. Marcus was too cold to care at the moment. He relieved himself and almost sighed when the pain he'd been feeling dissipated.

He shook himself off and tucked his now cold dick back into his pants. He lost his footing when he buttoned his pants up. The steps were icy under the deep snow and his cold feet were no use when he couldn't move them.

But before he could crash to his death, Roman caught him and pulled him against his chest. His arm wrapped around Marcus's chest.

Marcus stared frighteningly at the ground where he could have possibly cracked his head open. Also, though less dangerous but still not ideal, he would have landed in his own piss.

"You couldn't wait for me to take you to the out-house?" Roman sounded exhausted.

The embarrassment Marcus hadn't felt early was now creeping in. It was too much that he couldn't even relish in the fact he was starting to wear Roman down. Annoying him was all he could do with a fucked up leg.

He tried to push Roman off, but he was too tired. "I can piss by myself"

"Sure. And you didn't almost just fall."

Roman grabbed Marcus's chin and forced him to look him in the eyes. Marcus wadded up spit in his mouth and was about to launch it into Roman's face. Roman noticed it before he could. His hand tightened on Marcus's jaw, forcing his teeth together so hard it started to hurt. Marcus glared at the man.

"Next time, just ask."

Roman's eyes hardened. He tightened his hand even harder on Marcus's face. His fingers dug into Marcus's cheeks. Marcus thrashed his head back and forth to get the harsh grip off. Roman shoved his head back.

Marcus spat but it landed in the snow somewhere he couldn't see.

They stood there on the porch for another minute, glaring at each other. This wasn't a fight Marcus was going to win. He wasn't going to give up though.

Roman pulled him back into the cabin and pushed him toward the chair.

"Sit down or I'll just take your leg next time."

Marcus sagged into the chair. His leg was hurting so bad he couldn't stand on it any longer. He faced away from Roman and waited for the man to leave to his corner.

He did after a minute of staring at Marcus. When Marcus didn't look at him or say anything, he left.

Burns rang the bell of the sandwich shop. He looked behind the counter, trying to spot an employee, but it seemed no one there. He looked at his watch, mentally cursing at how late he was to the station. He'd told Mercer he'd be there by nine and it was already nine-fifteen.

He rang the bell again with a little more urgency. Finally, there seemed to someone scuffling toward the front.

A buff man came through, patting his hands dry with a towel. Burns rattled off what he wanted and a sandwich he knew Mercer would like. After being partners with the man for so long, he knew what foods were acceptable to the picky eater.

The employee of the sandwich shop began to make the sandwiches when Burns's phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" By the tone of Mercer's voice, Burns could tell he wasn't in a good mood.

Burns shouldered the phone and paid for the sandwiches. "Getting us brunch. I'll be ten minutes, tops."

Mercer grumbled something Burns couldn't make out. He heard voices in the background and then a door closing. "These people are annoying me."

Burns sighed as he walked out of the shop. "I said I'll be over there soon."

Mercer saying he was getting annoyed usually had to do more with Burns not being at his side rather than Mercer not being able to handle other people. Burns knew Mercer wasn't a sociable person and if he was pushed he would snap. If Burns was there, he usually could get Mercer safely away from people before that happened. It seemed Mercer was fairing well anyway. It sounded like he'd found himself a quiet room.

"Have you made any breakthroughs?" Talking about the case they were working on usually helped calm Mercer down.

He opened the car and tossed the sandwiches onto the passenger seat.

"We tracked Marcus's phone twenty miles away from the abduction site."

"Where do you think they're heading?"

"North. Might be heading toward Canada."

"Shit. I'll have to make a few phone calls."

"Don't worry about that. Just get over here, Burns."

Mercer hung up. Burns shook his head. He tossed his phone next to the sandwiches. Mercer was a huge baby when he didn't get his way or things didn't go as he planned.

Burns made it to the station a few minutes later. He just got out of the car and around to the sidewalk when Mercer stepped into his peripheral. He frowned.

"Here." He took Mercer's sandwich from the bag and pushed it into the man's chest.

Mercer took it without looking away from Burns. His dark eyes would have been terrifying if Burns wasn't used to it. He didn't even flinch when Mercer placed his hand on Burns's back and steered him back to their shared cruiser. Burns didn't fight as he was pushed into the passenger seat.

Mercer sat on the driver's side and held out his hand.

Burns rummaged through his pocket for the keys. When he found them, he handed them over.

Mercer started the car and pulled away from the curb.

"Where are we going?" Burns unwrapped his food and started eating. He was too hungry to wait a second longer. He didn't even care if he was getting crumbs all over himself.

"I may have found something."

Burns took another bite, waiting for Mercer to tell him what it was. The silence that came after made him look over at his partner. Mercer looked back at him, again, not saying anything.

Burns swallowed, but he couldn't taste anything. Mercer not telling him meant he was afraid the car was bugged.

Mercer drove to an empty park. They exited, leaving behind their phones. They took their food though Burns didn't know if he'd be able to stomach eating.

The table Mercer chose for them to sit at was under a willow tree. The long limbs draped around them, shielding them even more from the outside. Burns wished he had his phone to take a picture or video of it. In the small town where he was from, there wasn't much nature to look at and especially not big looming trees like this. If it wasn't a storefront, it was open fields for farming. There was no in-between beside the small personal trees that got barely bigger than a bush.

He'd been so caught up in the tree he was startled when Mercer started talking.

"I was looking into the pre-existing cases, trying to find connections to other cold cases," Mercer said as he unwrapped his sandwich with surgical delicacy. "I noticed that whenever there was a murder, there also happened to be a raid on this suspected cartel family. The Hernandez."

Burns's brows furrowed. "The Butterfly Killer has connections to the cartel?"

Mercer took a bite. He chewed and swallowed. "Not only that, I suspect someone on the force is getting paid off. Each time one of these raids is supposed to happen, the Hernandez get a tip about it."

Burn looked at his sandwich with disgust. "What does that mean for Marcus?"

They might not even be looking for the copycat. Marcus might have been picked up by the cartel. If so, he might be long gone.

Mercer, whose appetite didn't seem at all effected, took another bite and swallowed before he answered. "He's definitely gotten himself into something bigger than a serial killer."

"You mean a serial killer who is protected by the cartel."

Mercer smiled. "Precisely."

A shiver went down Burns's back as he watched Mercer finish his food.