by Alex Kava
They had left their vehicles far back on the other side of the electronic gate that blocked the road. Not much of a road, really. Tully had seen cow paths that were more easily accessible. Now as he and O’Dell crouched in the brush and mud, he regretted wearing his good shoes. A crazy thing to be thinking about when they were this close to capturing Stucky and Harding.
The Maryland State Patrol had supplied them with a half-dozen officers—officially for the sole purpose of serving the search warrant to the owner or occupants of the house. If no one responded, the FBI SWAT team would secure the area and accompany Tully and O’Dell in a search of the house and grounds. Tully was quick to notice that all the members of the SWAT team wore sturdy boots. At least O’Dell had remembered the FBI windbreakers. He was sweating under the weight of the bulletproof vest, but that didn’t protect him from the wind. Out here in the woods the wind swirled around the trees, crisp and cold. If the thunder was any indication, they would also be wet before the night was over. Night would come quickly in these woods, and with the thick cloud cover they would soon be in the pitch black. Already the twilight was providing eerie shadows that grew darker by the minute.
“There’s smoke coming out of the chimney,” O’Dell whispered. “Someone must be here.”
A faint light appeared in one of the windows, but it could easily be set to a timer. The smoke, however, was a little more difficult to manufacture without someone stoking a fire in the fireplace.
Two of the state patrol officers approached the front door as several of the SWAT team members moved in behind the bushes along the cobblestone path that led to the door. Tully watched, hoping he was wrong about Harding’s paranoia and hoping that the patrolmen would not simply be easy targets. He pulled out his own revolver and started scanning the windows of the house, looking for gun barrels peeking through. The house sat nestled in the woods like something out of a fairy tale. There was a porch swing and Tully could hear a wind chime. He couldn’t help noticing that there were way too many windows for a man who was going blind.
No one was answering the patrolman’s knock. He tried again while everyone else waited quietly. Tully wiped his forehead and suddenly realized that all the chirping birds and rustling forest creatures had also gone silent. Maybe they knew something their human counterparts did not. Even the wind had settled down. The thunder rumbled closer and flashes of lightning streaked across the horizon beyond the wall of trees.
“Perfect,” Tully whispered to no one in particular. “Isn’t it bad enough that this place already looks like something out of Dark Shadows?”
“Dark Shadows?” O’Dell whispered back.
“Yeah, the old TV show.” He glanced at her, only now she had a blank look on her face. “You know, with Barnabus Collins and The Hand?” There was still no glint of recognition. “Forget it. You’re too young.”
“Doesn’t sound like I missed much.”
“Hey, watch it. Dark Shadows was a classic.”
The two patrolmen looked over their shoulders and into the bushes. Not very discreet. One shrugged. The other put an ear to the door. Then he knocked one last time. For some reason he tried the doorknob, then again looked over to the bushes, pointing and indicating that the door was unlocked. Of course, Tully found himself thinking, why the hell would anyone lock the door out here?
Agent Alvando, who was heading the SWAT team, hurried over to Tully and O’Dell.
“We’re ready to go in. Give us a few minutes. I’ll come back out and give an all-clear sign.”
“Okay,” Tully said, but O’Dell was up, looking as if she was ready to go in with the SWAT team.
“Come on, Agent Alvando,” O’Dell began to argue, and Tully wanted to pull her back down into the brush. “We’re trained agents, too. It’s not like you’re here to protect us.”
She looked to Tully as if for reassurance. He wanted to disagree, but she was right. The SWAT team was here for backup, here to help with the search-and-arrest mission, not to protect them.
“We’ll go on in with you, Victor,” he reluctantly told Agent Alvando.
There was barely enough light to see inside the house. The entry included a hallway down the middle with a great room to the left and an open staircase over to the right. The second-floor landing was visible, separated only by a balcony railing. The team split up with half of them going upstairs, and the other half covering the main floor. Tully followed Agent O’Dell up the stairs. Before they got to the landing, they noticed the SWAT team members had stopped at the end of the hall. Tully could hear what sounded like a voice on the other side of the door where the three men hesitated. They motioned to each other, getting into position. Tully followed O’Dell’s lead and pressed himself against the wall. One of the men kicked the door open, and they stormed the room without a word to each other.
O’Dell looked disappointed when they got to the door and discovered the voice came from one of the half-dozen computers lined up along the wall.
“Click twice for confirmation,” the electronic voice said. “Speak into the microphone when ready.”
From another computer, an electronic voice gave different instructions. “That order has been shipped. Please check the status in twenty-four hours.”
“What the fuck is this?” one of the SWAT team asked.
O’Dell was taking a closer look while the rest of them stayed next to the door watching their backs.
“It’s a whole computer system set up to be voice activated.” She walked from one computer to the next, examining the screens without touching anything. “Looks like it reports the status of his video-game business.”
“Why would anyone want a voice-activated system?” Agent Alvando was at the door.
O’Dell looked back at Tully, and he knew what she was thinking. Why, indeed, unless that person was blind—not just partially, but totally blind.
CHAPTER 70
Tess squeezed her eyes shut. She could do this. She could pretend she was somewhere else. After all, she had done it many times before. There wasn’t much difference really. She needed to convince herself of that. What did it matter whether a paying john fucked her or some madman?
She needed to relax or it would only hurt more. She needed to stop feeling his thrusts, stop thinking about his hands fondling her breasts, stop hearing his groans. She could do this. She could survive this.
“Open your eyes,” he grunted between clenched teeth.
She squeezed them tighter.
“Open your goddamn eyes. I want you to watch.”
She refused. He hit her across the mouth, whipping her head so violently to the side that she heard her neck crack. Immediately, she tasted blood. She kept her eyes closed.
“Goddamn you, bitch. Open your fucking eyes.”
He was gasping, rocking back and forth with such force she thought he’d crack her insides open as well. She felt his hot breath on her neck and suddenly his teeth sank into her skin. His hands clamped down on her breasts, and he was hanging on to her, riding her, every part of him scraping, rubbing and thrusting at her, devouring her like a rabid dog.
She bit down on her lower lip. She forced her eyes to remain shut. Not much longer. She could do this. He would come, and then it would be over. Why the hell didn’t he come already? It wouldn’t be much longer. It couldn’t be. She twisted her head as far away as possible and kept her eyelids closed tight.
Finally, his body jerked, his teeth let go, his hands gave a final squeeze and he relaxed. He crawled off her, jamming his knee into her stomach and slamming his elbow against her head. Finally, it was over. She lay still, swallowing blood and pretending not to feel the sticky mess between her legs. Instead, she reminded herself that she had survived.
He was so quiet, she wondered if he had gone. She opened her eyes to find him standing over her. The yellow glow of the lantern he had brought with him created a halo behind him. When she met his eyes, he twisted his lips into a smile. He looked as calm and composed as he had when he entered the
shack. How was it possible? She had hoped that he would be exhausted, spent and ready to leave. But he showed no signs of fatigue.
“This part you will watch,” he promised. “Even if I need to cut your fucking eyelids off.” He held up a shiny scalpel for her to see.
Her weak, muffled scream made it past the raw pain in her throat.
“Scream all you want.” He laughed. “No one can hear you. And quite frankly, I like it.”
Oh dear God. The terror rushed through her veins and exploded in her head. She pulled and shoved against the restraints. Then suddenly she noticed him backing away, his head cocked to the side, as though he was listening to something outside the shack.
Tess strained to hear over the pounding in her head and chest. She lay still, watching him, and then she heard it. Unless she had gone mad, it sounded like voices.
CHAPTER 71
Maggie wondered if they were too late. Had Stucky and Harding escaped into the woods? She looked out the window and watched as Agent Alvando and his men combed the area, disappearing into the woods. Soon they wouldn’t be able to see anything without flashlights and strobes, things they hated to use, because the lights made them easy targets for snipers. As much as she wanted to be out there looking with them, she knew Alvando was right. She and Tully weren’t equipped or trained to participate in a SWAT team sweep of the woods.
The rain had started softly with a pitter-patter on the metal gutters. The sound was almost comforting, except that the approaching roar of thunder promised a storm. Maggie was grateful the house depended on a generator and not electricity that could easily be knocked out.
“Could we have been wrong about this place?” Agent Tully asked from the other side of the room. He had pulled out some of the cartons from under the computer desks, and with latex gloves on he sifted through what looked like ledgers, mail orders and other business documents.
“All of this could simply be preparation for him losing his sight entirely. I’m not sure what to think.” Perhaps it was the impending storm and the electrical current thick in the air. Whatever it was, she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread and restlessness. “Maybe we should go check and see if they got that room opened in the basement.”
“Alvando told us to stay put.” Tully shot her a warning look.
“It could be a torture chamber, not some bunker.”
“I’m only guessing it’s a bunker. We won’t know for sure until Alvando’s men can get it opened.”
She glanced around the room. It looked like a typical home office except for the talking computers. What a disappointment. What a letdown. She had psyched herself up for a showdown with Albert Stucky, and he was nowhere to be found.
“O’Dell?” Tully was hunched over another of the cartons he had unearthed. “Take a look at this.”
She looked over his shoulder expecting to see more X-rated computer software and videos. Instead, she found herself staring at newspaper clippings about her father’s death.
“Where the hell do you suppose he got this?” Tully asked.
She was wondering the same thing until she saw her appointment book and childhood photo album. It was her missing carton from the move. She had completely forgotten about it. So Greg had been telling the truth. The carton hadn’t been left at the condo. Somehow Stucky had been watching and had managed to take it from the movers. A shiver slid down her back as she thought about him handling her personal possessions.
“Maggie?” Tully stared up at her, concern in his eyes. “Do you think he broke into your house without you knowing?”
“No, I’ve been missing it since the day I moved in. He must have stolen the box before it made it into the house.”
The rage began in the pit of her stomach. She left Tully to dig through the other cartons while she paced the room from window to window.
“That means Stucky has been here,” Tully said without looking up.
She kept her eyes on the windows as she walked back and forth. The lightning struck closer, igniting the sky and making the trees look like skeleton soldiers standing at attention. Suddenly she saw a reflection of someone in the hallway walking past the door. She spun around, her revolver gripped firmly, outstretched in front of her. Tully jumped to his feet and had his gun out in seconds.
“What is it, O’Dell?” He kept his eyes ahead watching the doorway. She moved slowly across the room, gun aimed, hammer cocked.
“I saw someone walk by,” she finally explained.
“Are any of the SWAT team still in the house?”
“They were finished up here,” she whispered. Her heart slammed against her chest. Her breathing was already coming too quickly. “They wouldn’t come back up and not announce themselves, right?”
“Do you smell something?” Tully was sniffing the air.
She smelled it, too, and the terror that had begun to crawl up from her stomach started to explode.
“It smells like gasoline,” Tully said.
All Maggie could think was that it smelled like gasoline and smoke. It smelled like fire. The thought grabbed hold of her, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t walk the rest of the distance to the door—her knees had locked. Her throat plugged up, threatening to strangle her.
Tully ran to the door and carefully peeked out, his gun ready.
“Holy crap,” he yelled, looking out into the hallway in both directions without stepping out. “We’ve got flames on both sides. There’s no way we’re getting out the way we came in.”
He returned his gun to his holster and hurried to the windows, trying to open one while Maggie stood paralyzed in the middle of the room. Her hands shook so badly she could barely grip her revolver. She stared at her hands as though they belonged to someone else. Her breathing was out of control, and she worried she might start to hyperventilate.
The smell alone sparked images from her childhood nightmares: flames engulfing her father and scorching her fingers every time she reached for him. She could never save him, because her fear immobilized her.
“Damn it!” She heard Tully struggling behind her.
She turned toward him, but her feet wouldn’t move. He seemed so far away, and she knew she was losing visual perception. The room began to tilt. She could feel the motion, though she knew it couldn’t possibly be real. Then she saw him again, a reflection in the window. She twisted around, but it felt as if she was moving in slow motion. Albert Stucky stood tall and dark in the doorway, dressed in a black leather jacket and pointing a gun directly at her.
She tried to raise her own gun, but it was too heavy. Her hand wouldn’t obey the command. The room had tilted to the other side, and she felt herself slipping. He was smiling at her and seemed to be oblivious to the flames shooting up behind him. Was he real? Had her panic, her terror, brought on hallucinations?
“This damn thing is stuck,” she heard Tully yell somewhere far off in the distance.
She opened her mouth to warn Tully, but nothing came out. She expected the bullet to hit her squarely in the heart. That’s where he was aiming. Everything in slow motion. Was it a dream? A nightmare? He was pulling back the hammer. She could hear wood creaking, giving way in crashes outside the room. She pulled at her arm one more time as she saw Stucky begin to squeeze the trigger.
“Tully,” she managed to yell, and just then Stucky slid his aim to the right of her and pulled the trigger. The explosion jolted her like an electrical shock. But she wasn’t hit. He hadn’t shot her. She looked down. She wasn’t bleeding anywhere. It was an effort to move her arm, but she raised it, ready to fire at the now-empty doorway. Stucky was gone. Had it all been her imagination? There was a groan behind her, and before she turned to look, she remembered Tully.
He gripped his bloody thigh with both hands and stared at it as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The smoke had entered the room and burned their eyes. She ripped off her windbreaker. She could do this. She had to be able to do this. She ran to t
he door, forcing herself not to think of the heat and the flames. She slammed the door shut, wadded up her jacket and shoved it into the crack under the door.
She came back to Tully and kneeled next to him. His eyes were wide and beginning to glaze over. He was going into shock.
“You’re gonna be okay, Tully. Breathe but not too deeply.” Already the smoke was seeping in between the cracks.
She pulled at his necktie, undoing the knot and removing it. Gently she moved his hands away from the wound. She tied the necktie around his thigh, just above the bullet hole, tightening it and wincing when he shouted out in pain.
Smoke was filling the room. The crashing of beams sounded closer. She could hear a commotion of voices outside. Tully hadn’t managed to make either window budge. Maggie crawled to her feet, trying to focus only on Tully and getting them out of the room, out of the house. She would not think of the flames on the other side of the door. She would not imagine the hellish heat licking at the floorboards beneath them.
She grabbed one of the computer monitors, yanking the cords and cables until they became unplugged.
“Tully, cover your face.”
He only stared at her.
“Goddamn it, Tully, cover your face and head. Now!”
He pulled up his windbreaker and turned to face the wall. Maggie felt her arms weakening under the weight of the monitor. Her eyes burned, and her lungs screamed. She hurled the monitor through the window, and then quickly kicked out the chunks of glass. She grabbed Tully under the arms.
“Come on, Tully. You’re going to have to help me.”
Somehow she managed to drag him out the window and onto the roof of the porch. Agent Alvando and two other men were down below. It wasn’t a great distance to the ground, but with a bullet in his thigh, she couldn’t expect Agent Tully to jump. She held on to his arms as he lowered his body over the edge and waited for the men below to grab him. The entire time, his eyes held hers. But there wasn’t shock now. There wasn’t fear. Instead, what she saw in Agent Tully’s eyes surprised her even more. The only thing she saw was trust.
