Chapter 90

Hey I will be putting different parts in here one is Brian's and then Sarra's because I want to finish this story so I am just probably going to put a  couple chapters together.. If you get confused let me know.. Vote comment, fan..:)

Brian barged through the underbrush to where four agents were wired up. Harrison was hot  on his heels. They had gotten a call from Dean as the ambulance drove away with Abby, The dog has found something. Brian's heart hasn't beat a normal beat since.

Dean put up a hand to stop him. "Hold on. We can't go any further yet."

"They got the cone?" Brian asked.

Dean had a finger on the receiver in his ear, listening. He nodded. "The dogs picked up Sarra's scent. When they narrow the cone enough, we will pull them back." He looked away, concentrating on whatever the voice was saying in his ear. "No kidding. Really?" He looked at Brian. "OK.'

"The lab's been looking at the baby bones we found at the river. Said the infant found there was male."

Brian frowned. "Not Christie?"

"Apparently not. They haven't been able to date the diapers yet, or find birth records from the bible. But maybe there really was another baby before Brandon. A boy."

"Maybe." Brian thought about it for a minute, but he couldn't really care anymore. He had Abby back, and the dogs picked up Sarra's scent. That is all that mattered. "Fuck it." he said. "Let's go with the dogs."

"I have twenty agents ready to go in." Dean gave Brian a long look. "You aren't one of them."

Brian cursed and ran his hand through his hair. A second later he felt Harrison's hand on his shoulder.

"We will take care of her man." Harrison said, almost like a friend. Phil would approved. Brian thought. "We are close now."

"That's C-Christie?" Sarra could hardly force out the words.

Brandon caressed the small skull like a lover. "My mother spent years in her own fathers bed, and this is what came from it. A baby with bad blood. Mother wouldn't take care of her. The whole fucking town believed she took care of her. They never believed me. I took care of Christie. Mother left her in her own shit and sang fucking little songs and pruned her flowers while Christie cried. She said Christie couldn't feel, but she could, I know it. She can. You know how I know that Sarra? Because I can hear when she cries. All her life, all the years she had been missing. She cried until I finally found her again."

Oh, God. Sarra blinked and tried to follow what he was saying, trying to fit it into what he was doing to her, what he had done to all those other women over the years. What he had done to Abby. "You found her again?"

"When I was twenty one. Mother told me where to find her. But it was too late, then. She already fooled everyone."

Follow the story try to keep up. "I d-don't know why you are angry with me." But then she thought she did. "Because I made everyone believe my husband was Abby's father? You said blood didn't matter. You said you didn't care about___"

'I don't care about Abby, I care about Christie! he roared, and Sarra shrank back from his intensity, even as she marvled at the tenderness with which he held his sister's skull. "You hurt her, you fucking, deceiving little cunt. You hurt her!"

Sarra blinked. Something moved in the forest behind him. Her heart did a somersault.

Pay attention, don't look. Follow his twisted mind. Think. I hurt her. I hurt Christie.

"I d-don't know how I hurt Christie."

He squatted down, still just out of reach from her legs, and everything behind him went still again. It might just be a animal, a deer or something. It was still to dark to tell. But even as she warned herself to caution her heart began to thump. She tested the bindings in of her hands. Damn it, they were tight, if her fingers were wiggling at all. She couldn't be sure anymore.

"Look." He said

She looked at Brandon, looked at the skull. His trembling finger circled a tiny black hole. A inch above the temple. Just where all the women in his killing spree had been shot.

"You did this, Bitch."

She gaped at him.

"The night you killed Amy Chaney. After I found Christie again and cared for her and together we were making mother stop all that singing. You hurt Christie all over again."

There were two shell casings from a thirty eight pistol, Sarra. One Bullet stuck Amy Chaney in the back. What about the other?

Memories flew through her mind. A shot into Amy Chaney's spine and the other shot....wild.

"I n-never meant to, Br-Brandon." she said almost choking on his first name. "I never meant to hurt Christie. It was a accident, I didn't mean to hit your bag."

"Mother sang so loud that night. She sang for the next six years while I was behind bars. I had no tapes there. I had to send then to Damien's to keep for me with Christie and the dolls. So I had nothing to make mother stop."

Sarra was stunned. He rotated the skull slightly  in his hands. "And this." He ran his fingers along a jagged crack in the head. "Fuller did this. At your house. He kicked Christie. He deserved to die."

Brandon was so intent on Christie's skull he wasn't looking around. Movements . More than one now. She could feel them. Oh god, someone was out there.

Brandon's gaze lifted up to Sarra. It was black with rage. "You hurt Christie, then pretended to be innocent and sweet. You planted fucking flowers. An Oscar worthy performance, Sarra, as a good as mother's. Can't you hear her singing now?"

He leaned closer to her and she flinched.

"When I pound a cunt, Mother hates that the most. It reminds her of grandpa, and she stops singing." He stared at Sarra, the whites of his eyes showing. "And now." He said digging into his bag. "It is your turn."

He came up with five new tapes. They were all labeled Sarra.

"They are in." Dean said and waved Brian over. "You can listen, but I am in charge, You understand?" Brian nodded. Right now, He would agree to anything. "Reconnaissance has them. They have a view."

Brian got wired up and listened, barely breathing.

"They are in a tree house." Came a hushed voice that belonged to a man Brian had never met named Jake  Brown. "A hunters stand, I guess. Suspect has a thirty eight. The woman's on the floor.

"The floor?" Brian asked. They weren't close enough to see. Only a handful of recon agents had gone in past the dogs. The rest of them stayed in a outer perimeter, awaiting Dean's orders. When they descended, they would do it all at once, a shock and a awe strike.

"She is bloody and her clothes are ripped." Brown reported. "I can't tell how bad she is hurt. Doesn't look good.'

Brian closed his eyes, adrenaline surging. Focus. He touched his .45 out of habit, longing for a assault rifle.

"Awe shit.' Brown said. "He is on her."

"what?"

"He is running the pistol down her throat, over her breast. Man, I think he is about to do her."

"Can you get a shot?" Dean asked

"Not from this angle, too many trees. Christ he is touching her, she is trying to weasel away. she is tied up..."

Brian ripped out the earpiece and lunged. Dean and Harrison both grabbed him. Together, they rammed him up against a tree.

"Fuller!" Dean whispered, gripping him hard.

"I am going in." Brian said. "It will freak him out to see me alive throw him off."

"It will piss him off, that is what it will do." Harrison shot back right in Brian's face. "Are you listening to Brown, man? There is a gun on your woman, for fuck sake."

"I am dead. I can go there and fuck with his mind. I can push him over the edge."

"What edge?" Dean growled, holding Brian's shirt in his fist. "The one that makes him screw whatever he had planned for Sarra and just put a bullet in her head? For god sake, let me get the team in there." Dean stared at him until Brian nodded, then stepped back. He touched his earpiece.

"Brown." He said. "We are coming in.' He clicked to another frequency to address the whole team. 'This is Dean. Suspect is holding the woman in a deer stand and has a gun to her throat. Sexual assault in progress. On three we go in. No one shoot. I repeat. Hold your fire!" He looked at Brian took a deep breath. "One...Two...

The gun slid cold and hard down her throat. Sarra cringed and was sorry a second later. Even thst small reaction made Brandon smile. Don't react. Don't cry. Just think.

She would swear there is someone out there, but what if she was wrong? She couldn't sit here and let Brandon make a tape recording of her torture while she awaited Calvary she wasn't certain of. Still, she knew they were out there. Police? The FBI? Brian?

No, she almost forgotten. Not Brian.

The gun dragged farther down her body. Her spine went rigid, the pain a fire that had dulled to a constant, red ember-ed throb, now withering beneath pain of another nature. The barrel of the gun found her crotch. It rubbed, taunted through what was left of her dress. The duct tape held. Brandon slipped a finger through one of the gaping runs in her pantie hose and yanked. The nylons shredded to nothing.

He looked up as if a sound had caught his attention, then dismissed it, the gun still teasing the cleft between Sarra's legs. He glanced at the tape player. The play and the record buttons were both pressed, the faint hum of reels whirling in her ears. He smiled.

"It is time Sarra. Cry for me. I have waited so long to add you to my collection."

Sarra looked at the tape, then stared him in the eyes and spoke loud and clear for the recording. "Go to hell you bastard!"

"Three!"

The shout seemed far away to Sarra, yet the forest suddenly moved. Everywhere, and all at once. Figures wearing goggles and armor skittered through the woods like black mercury, then stopped so sharply the night seemed to die.

Brandon yanked Sarra up against him. His gun gouged into her throat, pushing her view into the sky. She buckled to her knees. If he was going to hold her hostage, she could damn well make it hard for him.

He tightened his grip, staggering around the deer stand in the weak light of the lantern, swaying, turning three sixties. He kept moving, keeping Sarra's body close against him. He wan't going to give anyone a clean shot.

"She's mine!' Brandon voice sounded panicked. "Stay back. I haven't finished with her. She is fucking mine!"

Sarra gasped for air past the barrel of the gun, nearly choking. Everything that had moved two seconds before had suddenly gone still again. Silent. Deathly.

Then a deep voice rumbled, "Wrong," and Sarra's heart stopped. It wasn't possible. But the voice came again, nearer this time, rolling through the silence like thunder. "Wrong Brandon. She is mine."