by Unknown
“That’s all that you want? The original copy?”
The Woodsman smirked and got up off the floor. He stared into my demon eyes and his smirk widened into a smile.
I never turned away from his gaze, but I was prepared to withdraw as soon as the guard entered the room. He must have heard the chair fall over.
“Where?” I repeated.
Townsend returned to his chair and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you, but first I want you do something for me.”
“What?”
“I want out of this prison. Get me out and I will give you the original. Until then it will remain our little secret.”
Slowly, I calmed Shane down. I could feel his breathing returning to normal and his heart slowed to a regular beat.
“You want me to get you out? How? Jailbreak?” Shane whispered.
“I don’t care how. If you think that you can have the court set bail in the morning, fine. I’ll pay it. If not, and I’m thinking not, then you’ll have to be creative.
“You’re the savior of killers. Figure it out!”
The Woodsman had killed Shane’s friend, blackmailed him, threatened Sun Good, and now he wanted Shane to break him out of jail.
“What evidence do they have on you?”
“That FBI agent has something on me. They haven’t yet told me what exactly.”
I returned to my hiding place and allowed Shane to take over again.
“Okay. Before we get into conspiring to break you out of a maximum-security jail, let’s talk about your case. Maybe we can get you out legally,” Shane said.
Townsend also returned to the surface. He smiled. This time his smile was different than that of the creature that I had just met. His teeth were different. I hadn’t noticed before, but his teeth were straight. Before they were jagged. His creature transformed him into a being with sharp, jagged teeth, not just black eyes like mine.
I’d never thought to check to see if my jagged teeth emerged through Shane’s mouth like my black, cold eyes did when we switched places.
With this thought lingering in my mind, I coiled back up in my nest in the back of Shane’s skull. I remained on standby in case he needed me, but I sensed that Townsend and Shane would discuss strategies to get the prosecution to allow a bail to be set tomorrow. It wasn’t a conversation that required my dark presence.
Shane was a brilliant defender. I’m sure that if anyone could figure out a way to get Townsend out, he would.
For now, I simply watched and hatched plans of my own. I thought about two things: Where was he keeping that video? And what was it going to be like holding the Woodsman’s severed head in my hands?
|||||
Shane still wore his kill-suit, black jacket and blood-red tie draped over a flawless white shirt. He stood next to Townsend. They were in front of a crowded courtroom.
The news that there was a suspect being charged with the Woodsman murders had hit the cable networks, newspapers, and online blogs in a matter of moments after Townsend’s arrest.
One hour ago, Shane had met with the judge and the prosecution in secret.
“Mr. Lasher, Arnold tells me that you and he have reached an unusual agreement?” the judge asked.
“Yes, your honor,” Shane replied, a smile cracked across his face.
“Shane and I have agreed that the court can set bail,” the prosecutor said.
“Mr. Evans, why exactly would you agree to have a suspected mass murderer have bail set?” the judge asked.
“My client has agreed to change his plea to guilty, but only in one week if bail is set. He feels that he has some important affairs to get in order before he can go to jail.
“For one thing, he has worked hard to create his architecture firm and he wants me to arrange for it and his partner to be protected afterward. He personally wants to oversee this. He will not show up to his offices in person. He feels that he has cost his partner and employees enough grief.
“Instead he has agreed to wear an ankle bracelet. He won’t leave his apartment. I will meet with him there during the week,” Shane responded.
Then Shane said, “He just wants one more week of freedom.”
“Why on earth would he want to confess to these charges in exchange for bail unless he’s planning on trying to flee?” the judge asked.
“He is not going to run. He simply wants the time to make his peace with family and friends before they have to learn the truth,” the prosecutor answered for Shane.
The judge stood from behind his desk and stared past Shane and out the window. Then he turned back to the two men and said, “I’ll take this under advisement, but if I agree to set a bail, I think it’s best we keep this conversation to ourselves.
“Also, Erik,” he said, looking directly at the prosecutor.
“You should claim that you are against bail. What will the public think of a judge and a local DA agreeing to set a serial killer free even for a week? This has to remain secret,” the judge said.
Erik Evans, the local DA, nodded in agreement.
Back to the scene that unfolded in front of me. I watched with admiration as Shane manipulated the judge and DA as if they were his puppets. With Townsend free, I would be able to retrieve that video and kill him before he went to prison.
Townsend stood next to Shane as the judge began to speak.
“Mr. Dry, you have been charged with multiple counts of first degree murder involving heinous crimes. How do you plea?”
“Not guilty, your honor,” Townsend answered.
“Your honor, the City of New York requests that you deny bail,” Erik Evans said.
The judge looked at the prosecutor and then back to Townsend and Shane.
“Mr. Dry is a well-respected member of our city,” the judge said and paused.
Then the judge said, “Who is being accused of horrible crimes. The nature of these crimes is not lost upon this court.
“However, I do believe that he is innocent until proven guilty, as is the way of our system. And I do not believe that he is a flight risk. So it is the opinion of this court that bail be set at one million dollars on the condition that he is to be confined to his home,” the judge said.
The moment the words rolled off his lips, there was an intense rumble over the courtroom.
“Silence!” the judge said. He banged the gavel.
The court fell silent and a smile spread across Townsend’s face.
An even bigger smile stretched across my face, only my smile involved a mouthful of jagged, razor-like teeth, one of which was broken off at the center, making a surface that had multiple points on it, like the teeth of a jigsaw piece.
Of course the reasons why Townsend and I were grinning so intensely differed greatly.
He smiled because Shane had gotten him the chance to make bail. He could spend the night in his own apartment and not a jail cell. He also felt a sense of hopefulness because he thought that Shane might actually be able to get him acquitted from the murder charges.
It was a false sense of hope, but he still felt it.
The reason why I grinned so hard was because Shane never informed Townsend about the deal that he had made with the prosecution.
Townsend had no idea that the court expected him to change his plea after “much soul searching.”
Not to fret. If our plans went right, he would never make it to the trial. In less than a week he would be nothing more than a disassembled human stacked in garbage bags.
The law would think that he’d fled the country. FBI Agent Cutter would have to chase the phantom trail that we’d arranged ahead of time. The public would have to be satisfied that Dry was out there somewhere.
The judge would ridicule Shane, but he could do little more than that. And Shane’s reputation would be intact.
The evidence that Townsend had blackmailed Shane would be destroyed. And the Woodsman’s remains would have been burned to ash, like the logs on a dying fire.
No one would
ever hear from him again.
|||||
Sitting in the back of the courtroom. Watching. Scowling. Growing furious. I sensed him.
I shut my eyes and saw through his. I saw outside of his and saw his figure. Even in the crowded courtroom––filled with FBI agents, vengeful, off-duty police, and interested parties––the figure’s details were askew. He stood in the back of the courtroom like a blurred monster in a dream. His fists clenched tightly. He watched as the judge agreed to set bail for the Woodsman.
He watched as Shane pissed all over his arrest.
Kirk Cutter’s monster was on the verge of leaping out of his vessel and attacking the Woodsman right in the middle of open court.
The entire process sickened him. The monster inside him twisted and railed at Townsend and his lawyer. He had hunted the Woodsman and now he hated the idea that we were messing up his efforts.
Cutter couldn’t watch anymore. He exited the courtroom before the judge dismissed everyone.
He stood in the hallway and waited.
“Agent Cutter,” a subordinate agent said, approaching him from around the corner.
“Not now!” Cutter said. Then he pushed past the agent. He walked to the second set of doors that entered the courtroom. He waited.
Shane saw him waiting. We nudged Townsend behind us and deeper into the crowd of people. He had a police escort. This was for his protection. The judge felt that while Townsend was in the courtroom he needed to be guarded from any would-be attackers.
As they neared Agent Cutter, Shane leaned toward the officer with his client and said, “Go ahead and take Townsend to get the anklet put on.”
The officer nodded.
“This way, Mr. Dry,” he said.
He took Townsend by the arm with a firm grip and led him away.
Shane turned to Townsend and said, “I’ll be right behind you.”
Townsend looked into Shane’s eyes with a cold, yet confused stare.
“You had better be,” he said.
Shane continued forward out in front of Townsend. Cutter stood there waiting. He reached out and grabbed Shane by the arm. He pulled him in close. Their suit jackets touched.
Townsend passed them and glared back.
“You’re supposed to help us find out what happened to your firm’s missing clients. I don’t call this helping. It looks like you’re trying to exonerate another serial killer,” Cutter said in a hushed, dark voice.
“Mr. Cutter, I am doing my job. My concern is not to investigate the firm that my father created,” Shane said.
Cutter’s grip tightened, causing immediate pain to Shane’s arm. Suddenly, I was shaken out of standby mode. Right in the middle of the crowded courthouse hallway, I revealed myself.
Seeing me stunned Special Agent Cutter. I was something that Cutter had not expected. The expression on his face changed from predator to prey. This expression was only there for a moment, but it was there. I saw it.
I jerked quickly and pulled out of his grasp.
Anger shone across his face. And Cutter reached out and grabbed at Shane’s arm. But I intervened, dodging his grab. My position shifted with Cutter’s. It was like a homicidal tango. Except our quick reflexes shocked Kirk so badly that he almost mis-stepped and stumbled backward.
I caught him with a two-step move. First, I locked my knees, securing my stance.
Then he countered. He reached out, and with a quick pull of his arm, he had regained his footing.
“That was a close combat move. Where did you learn it?” Kirk asked. His mouth gaped open after the question like a cave’s entrance. I wanted to reach into his open mouth and pull out the creature that lived inside of him.
“Just instinct,” I said in a cold voice.
Kirk Cutter had never laid eyes on me before.
Instantly his monster recognized me like we were old friends––cut from the same blood-soaked cloth.
Slowly, with another new expression on his face, an expression of terror, Cutter backed away from Shane. He backed away from us. No, he retreated from us.
“There’s something else going on here, Lasher. Something is not right about you. I will find out what it is,” Cutter said.
“You do whatever you have to,” Shane said.
Shane turned away and we left him standing there in the hallway. His eyes burned into the back of Shane’s head. I felt them.
While Shane’s back was turned, Cutter reached for his weapon, but he didn’t brandish it. Instead, his fingertips brushed across the hilt of his gun. He thought about drawing it. He should have, because once I was done with the Woodsman, he would be next.
|||||
The rain poured heavily over the city. And it was winter. So the city was cold.
Gusts of wind swept the rain into a diagonal arc. Visibility was low. The atmosphere set the perfect stage for the next act in Shane’s play. The very next night was the night that I had waited for. I felt it.
The hunger was there, seeping into Shane’s bones.
The streets were desolate. The part of town that Townsend lived in was asleep, as much as New York did sleep, which was to say not very much.
But the rain helped. It was an extra variable that kept onlookers away.
The blackness of the night and the harsh rain that bore down on us camouflaged my walk down Townsend’s street.
I realized that there was a chance that he would be wise to my attack. Yet, I remained hopeful that I would take him by surprise.
Before I entered his building, I stood underneath the cover of rain. I sifted through the pockets inside of Shane’s jacket. I checked for two items. I thought that he had brought them, but even monsters can be absentminded.
The items that I checked for were still in their rightful place. The first was a needle filled with a powerful tranquilizer, a frequent tool of mine. It was silent and concealable and it put the victim out in seconds.
The other item that I’d brought was a Taser. This would come in handy if I ran into any unexpected heroes.
I had to kill the Woodsman in his apartment. Once I killed him, I would have to cut him up into pieces quickly––head, torso, and appendages, but all of this would have to be done fast due to the NYPD’s technically advanced anklet. Townsend sported this device on his left foot. Once his heart stopped beating, there was only a small window of time before the police would show up.
When his heart stopped, the anklet was programmed to send out a signal. This was usually an indicator of tampering.
I pulled open the heavy doors to the entrance to Townsend’s apartment. Inside the foyer, I was greeted by the doorman.
“Hello, sir,” the tall, lanky doorman said. He waved, but barely looked at me.
As I approached the elevators, I noticed a vacant chair posted near them. Then I caught a glimpse of a policeman stepping into the public restrooms.
Shit, I thought.
The feds had posted a guard in the lobby of Townsend’s building. I would have to find some way of getting around him on our exit. This was already looking more difficult than I had imagined.
I rode the elevator to the penthouse level. I got off into a darkened hallway. It appeared that the bulb over Townsend’s door was out.
My instincts buzzed like an alarm. I reached into Shane’s pocket and pulled out the Taser. I activated the weapon. The strobes at the end crackled to life. Little bolts of electricity sparked from the tip.
I approached the door to the penthouse. I pulled Shane’s red scarf up over his nose. It obstructed his face.
As I neared the door to Townsend’s apartment, I noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. This was not good. I sensed an ambush.
I reached out with my left hand and nudged the door open with one quick shove. It creaked open on its hinges. The bottom of the door hovered an inch above the brick tiles in Townsend’s foyer.
As the door glided over them, I stared down a dark, empty hallway. It was not at all as it had been the la
st time that I’d broken in.
This time there was nothing but darkness. This time there was confusion building up inside of Shane. And then there was the smell.
Suddenly, my nostrils filled with the unrelenting smell of a dead body. Someone had died in this apartment tonight.
He has only been out of jail for one night and he’s already killed someone! I thought. I’d arrived too late to stop him.
Cautiously, I crept through the penthouse, using the sparks from the Taser to flash light onto the floor like the flash of a camera. The flashes helped guide my feet as I trekked through the landscape. I didn’t want to step onto any kind of a booby trap.
