Darkest Instinct

PROLOGUE

Off Key Biscayne, Florida, in Biscayne Bay April 2, 1996

The powerful beam from the Cape Florida Lighthouse came some distance over the water, once a beacon of warning to sailors, now just for show. Still, it told Tammy that they had sailed out to the tip end of Biscayne Bay and were fast approaching the open sea. Tammy Sue Sheppard watched the light as she would a star, watched it blink on and off, on and off, on and off again, actually going around in a circular motion, spinning, like her head, racing like her pulse when he took her in his arms.

Patrick smelled of a tangy, spicy aftershave here in the ocean breeze. He’d been so attentive, and now he was tantalizing her with his gentle caress, the soft touch of his tongue in her ear as they danced again about the deck of the beautiful, large sailboat. It was better than any schoolgirl’s dream.

He now gently asked her patience as he returned to the controls and paused the ship here at the southern tip of Biscayne Bay, skirting the northern tier of the famous underwater Biscayne National Park, where coral reefs and sunken ships beckoned thousands upon thousands of recreational divers each year. But all that activity, even by night, was far to the south. The area around Cape Florida Lighthouse Point was long since deserted, save for a handful of passing boats, each with its own running lights reflecting off the water ahead of them, each mirroring in Tammy’s mind the image of how she and Patrick’s boat must look from across the bay aboard these other ships.

One of the other boats was large and not a sailboat, however, storming by at some distance like a rhino rather than a bird like the soft others. The big boat had disturbed the water, sending an enormous wave across to where they had moored, causing the sailboat, as large as it was, to shake and shiver violently from side to side, disturbing their romantic moment, causing Patrick to stare after the cutter for a long time, as if he were fighting the darkness in his effort to read the numbers on the Coast Guard cutter, wishing to report it. Tammy soothingly asked him to come back to the dance. And he did so, turning to her with the widest, welcome- ingest smile she’d ever known. Now, peace restored, Patrick Allain was doing it again. He made her feel so feminine, so alive, so vibrant all over. He began to kiss and caress her, making her quiver in the most pleasant manner she’d ever experienced.

The promise was as enormous as the sailboat, and at the moment, she didn’t care whether it was a rental or it belonged to him.

Her best friend, Judy Templar, had whispered a whiskey- laden warning in her ear earlier in the evening, before Tammy had disappeared with Patrick: Don’t believe a word he tells you, girl… and that boat’s likely not his to begin with. In his arms now, feeling overwhelmed with passion, she almost hated Judy for suggesting what she had. Judy and Cyn were both just jealous, because Patrick had picked her out of the trio tonight.

She wanted to believe Patrick, every word he’d said about himself, his boat, his plans and his feelings. It all seemed so wonderful. In fact, having had a great deal to drink tonight, everything seemed wonderful and anything seemed possible-especially love.

It seemed that all life lay at Tammy’s beck and call now; it seemed, with such a stunning-looking man actually on his knees to her, now slipping off her shoes, massaging her feet, teasing her toes with his tongue, deliciously tickling her, that anything was possible. It was beautiful out on the large, open bay where the blinking lights of Miami winked at them like some enormous campfire where people huddled, afraid to come into the darkness where they could see the moon glow and the firmament so obliterated by the city lights. Here all of the black void of space was held back while her soul was cuddled and rocked into a safe place by Patrick, who’d created this moment: the rhythmic, friendly sound of water lapping at the boat, gently rocking this big cradle into which she had nestled; the beauty of the restored lighthouse; the warmth of the music, soft and in harmony with the wafting sea breezes; a nurturing ocean, teeming with life. And then there was also Patrick’s gentle, sweet touch, his rich, sonorous voice, filling her with expectations of delight and sensual pangs.

His hands moved along the contours of her body now as he regained his feet; towering over her now, he took her in his arms now, his tongue finding and jousting with her own now, his body heat flowing into hers now. All now; everything, all life focused on the now. Certainly every fiber of her being was focused on the now.

His passionate tongue next found her ear, his sensual overtures continuing to happily chill her.

Doesn’t he know he has turned me to putty? She wondered.

Then his hands turned from gentle to rough, all in a careless instant, and she looked up into his eyes, only to find the eyes of another person-wide, crazed, lascivious, indigo eyes that spoke of evil and bestiality.

He tore at her clothing, ripping her blouse as she tried to pull away. He slammed her to the deck, and the soothing sounds of the bay were drowned by the terror raging now in her ears as he rammed her forehead into the deck several times, knocking her into submission and oblivion. When she awoke-she thought it moments later-it was to her own coughing and retching and gasping for air, her windpipe in pain. He had long since torn away her remaining clothing. She lay naked and raped there on the deck, seemingly alone. She could not make him out in the darkness. An eerie fog had enveloped the boat; there was no lighthouse anymore, no sign of shore, and it didn’t feel as if the boat were moored any longer either. In fact, they seemed far, far from shore, and now she was shivering from pain and nudity, shame and the awful taste and smell of her own blood where he had slammed and bruised her, cutting her lip as well as her forehead. There was considerable pain the entire length of her throat, and she continued to gasp for air. Aside from the water hitting the side of the boat, her gasps were the only sounds to be heard.

Tammy Sue, get a hold of yourself, figure a way out of this, she silently berated herself. She tried to assess the damage, finding most of the pain lodging in and about her throat and her private parts. She had no doubt that he’d strangled her near to death-and enjoyed his sex rough, no doubt-and she was as yet dazed and confused by the encounter. Apparently, he could only enjoy sex by taking it- and the rougher the better-while she had nothing but pain from the encounter.

“ Son of a bitch bastard,” she moaned aloud. From some where behind the fog. like a man behind a mirror, just out of her vision, came his voice, but it, too, had changed. “Pirates never were the romantic figures Hollywood made them into, my dear little mother.” His accent now sounded ugly to her ears-and why was he calling her a mother?

She began to weep and think. She thought of her own mother, her little sister, her father, home. She wished with all her heart to be home again-not her lonely little apartment, but her childhood home. She wondered if she would ever see home again. She wondered if Patrick meant to kill her.

She reached up to touch the bruised, painful area about her Adam’s apple. It was so tender, she could hardly touch it. He truly had choked her so roughly that she’d been near dead.

“ Be of good cheer, child,” he said cruelly, still standing back of the mist, where she could hardly make out his form.

“ For while you once were a nobody, I am going to make you a somebody, someone important.”

She begged, “No, no… please, Patrick. I just want to go home… I just want to go home. Please?”

He mimicked her words, and followed with a taunting laugh. He stepped into her line of vision, looking like some sort of monster, huge and hulking. “Your friends there”- he pointed as if he were on a stage, reading lines from a script he’d memorized-”what were their names? Julie and Cynthia? They will read about you in the papers, Tammy. Isn’t that nice? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“ Don’t… hurt me, please… Please, if you’ll just let me go, I won’t tell anyone, not a thing. I… I promise… I swear. I know I led you on. It wasn’t your fault, Patrick. Please, please, just let me go.” Her words trailed off in a keening, animal whine which further excited him, bringing him to his knees over her, bringing him to begin to trace his finger along her naked thigh, sending dread throughout her body.

“ I’ll let you go… when I’m finished with you.” Where was this maniac coming from? What did he want of her? Why had he done this to her? The Patric she’d wanted to love was here but not here, a phantom somewhere in the air around her while this evil twin kept them both in its awful clutches. “Patrick!” she screamed.

He clamped both hands over her throat, drowning out her cry. Subdued, certain now he meant to kill her, she again fell silent, wide-eyed and fearful. More than anything, she feared fainting. She feared that if she lost consciousness again, she would not awake a second time. He suddenly released his stranglehold on her and cruelly latched on to her hair, then dragged her to the back of the boat, kicking and screaming. It had become obvious that they were far out in the middle of the ocean. No one could hear her screams.

“ I want to show you something, sweetheart.” He pushed her aside and began tugging on a thick, black nylon rope which hung taut over the stern. He pulled at what was a great weight at the other end. For a time, she thought he’d be unable to lift whatever was on the other end, but soon the rope and its hoard were hoisted up.

She expected to see a large fish perhaps, but instead she found herself staring into the dead eyes of a completely waterlogged dead girl near her own age and similar in general appearance, her hair like seaweed, her skin drained of color, only the shell of life remaining. Tammy screamed, causing Patrick to laugh delightedly and push her head into the dead girl’s now mushy countenance, some of the skin peeling off and adhering to Tammy’s forehead and cheek.

“ Like looking into the future, into a mirror that reflects back your own future, Tammy, don’t you see? I didn’t want to lie to you another second.”

He pushed her down, where she feebly grabbed on to his legs, pleading.

“ Now that you know, it’s… well, out of the way. It’s good now that you know exactly what’s going to happen here.

” While Tammy began to whimper and blubber, he stared fixedly into the eyes of the dead girl he’d placed at the end of the nylon rope. “Her name was Allison. She’s been in the water for a long time. See?

” He snatched up the dead girl’s right arm to reveal that it had been severed at the forearm. “Sometimes I feed the sharks, you know, bits and pieces…”

Tammy’s scream wafted across the great expanse of the Atlantic. He dropped Allison’s body back into the depths and yanked in succession at two other ropes that hung over the stern. “Mary Ellen and Carrie Beth,” he named each rope. Then he tugged at a fourth rope that gave easily, looping about his hands. “This one’s for Tammy.”

“ Ahhhhh! Oh, no, no, please!”

“ Shut up!” He slapped her hard across the face and she fell to the deck. “Why? Why?” she pleaded. “What did I ever do to you?”

“ Nothing and everything. You were born to be mine.

You’re a perfect victim.” He dug his thumbs into her throat again, registering the life’s blood of her pulsating heart there. He easily, helplessly choked and choked her, enjoying the pleasure of it all, feeding himself on the life as it was given up from her a second time.

She fell again, eyes bulging wide, into unconsciousness. As he continued to squeeze, he felt the life draining from her, rising into his fingertips, into his hands, along his forearms and toward his heart and head. It was a feeling that gave him a sense of incredible power, a sense of identity and purpose and freedom from the mundane world.

“ Thanks to you, Tammy, I’m no longer bored,” he told the unconscious woman.

While she was out, he tied the thick nylon rope in a sailor’s knot about her throat and bound her hands with a leather thong.

“ When she returns to consciousness, Tauto,” he spoke to himself and the cosmos, “we’ll put her in the water and she’ll be all yours to enjoy, hey?”

Then he set about fulfilling his perverted sexual needs on the near-dead victim for a second time this night, baying at the moon as he did so.