by Tyler Porter
“I don’t care about policy; you should know that better than most. I need to know because…Hunt is The Optometrist,” I said.
“What? Are you insane? Hunt? Of all people, you’ve come up with James Hunt for the killer?” she asked almost angrily.
It was understandable. They obviously shared feelings and we were about to destroy that.
“I wouldn’t allow the thought if I wasn’t certain. There is too much evidence to ignore,” I said.
She shook her head, not answering.
I sighed. “Unless you can give us a solid alibi for where he was the nights of the murders.”
Again, she said nothing. She wasn’t looking at me, nor was she looking at Hall or Perez. She was looking straight up at the ceiling. For a second, I thought she might start to cry. Her face was flush red and she’d tucked her bottom lip into her mouth.
“Hailey…I need to know where he is,” I said calmly, trying my best to empathize.
“Probably at home, how the hell should I know?” she said sternly.
“Come on, you know better than that. Do you think we would have come here without checking his apartment first? He wasn’t there, and he isn’t answering his cell. He’s off the grid and until we find him, you’re not safe,” I said.
“He would never hurt me. He loves me,” she said, still not looking me in the eye.
“Where would he go? If he isn’t at home and isn’t at work, where would he go?” I asked
“How am I supposed to know?”
“We saw the apartment; we’ve seen his work area and we’ve seen yours. We put the pieces together that you’ve been living with him, or at least spending a hell of a lot of time there. You’ve spent more time with him than anyone. If anyone knows where he might be, it’s you. Just think, there has to be somewhere. A bar, a restaurant, time-share, something. He goes somewhere when he needs time alone, we all do. Think…” I said.
She continued to stay silent, but this time she didn’t look as upset. She looked like she was thinking, then she appeared to be struggling within herself on whether or not to say what she was thinking. This was a lot to process. It was hard enough to be in a relationship in our line of work and just as she found love with someone, she finds out he has likely been spending his evenings cutting people apart and stapling eyelids open.
“A bar. Marino’s, it’s on Williams,” she said reluctantly.
“Cop bar?” I asked.
“No, that’s why he likes it. He can get away from work for a while.”
“I know the place,” Perez said. “It’s on the other side of town. I’ll check there.”
“I’ll go with you,” I replied, turning to leave the room.
“Wait, Norris,” Cooper chimed in. “There’s one other possibility.”
I stayed quiet waiting for her to expand on what she’d said. The other possibility of where he could be. Finally, she spoke again.
“There’s a house…it used to be his parents until they passed away. It’s on twenty acres or so, the house is surrounded by woods, you’d never know it was there unless someone told you. He likes to go there some nights, just to be alone and think. Just to get away…”
“And he’s been spending a lot more time there lately,” I said finishing her sentence for her.
She nodded her head slowly, closing her eyes tight to keep the tears from escaping.
“You’re doing the right thing Cooper. I need the address,” I said pulling out my pocket notepad and pen handing them to her.
She wrote down the address and handed them back to me without speaking or looking up from the pad. I turned toward the door but held a hand up to Hall as he stood up from the bench by the window.
“I’m gonna have Aaron hang back and stay with you,” I said.
“I’m not really in the mood for company,” she said
“And I wasn’t asking. If he isn’t at that house, and we don’t catch him right now, you are in immediate danger. He knows that you are the only person who knows about the house and where he might be. You’re a liability. I’ve already lost one, I’m not about to lose a second,” I said before turning and walking out of the room with Perez a step behind.
Chapter 31: Waiting for the Kill
I reached over and cranked up the volume on the scanner as the car shook from the combination of high speed and uneven country road. I’d switched to a private channel and had Perez do the same before sending him to the bar while I made my way to the address Cooper had given me. If he radioed in with an update, I wanted to be sure I didn’t miss anything. Splitting up was bad enough, going directly to each location alone was not a good idea.
I’d called the precinct and given them the details we had, but judging from where headquarters was and where the two possible spots were, they would take twice as long to get to either as Perez or I would. We had no way of knowing how much time we had. Hunt may not be at either place, he could be at a different location, or he could have up and left the state or country by now. At least, that was the reasoning I was using for why we were going after Hunt solo.
I knew he wasn’t going anywhere. He was right here in Helena, and if he wasn’t at the bar or the house, he was somewhere else in the city. Leaving wasn’t a part of his plan and didn’t have a place in the game he was playing. This was chess, and he’d chosen me to be his opponent. One of us was going to win and one was going to lose, there was no leaving the game when someone called check. We were going to play through.
Hunt knew from the second he started this by murdering Melanie Green that there were only two ways this could end and each of those options included a funeral. The only question was whose name would be on the headstone. If I was being honest, I’d sent Perez to the bar because I had an intense feeling in my gut that the secluded house made much more sense.
This wasn’t about Perez. It wasn’t about Hall, or Cooper. This wasn’t about Simmons or his wife, they’d just been victims of circumstance. They were all just a way to get my attention. Hunt wanted me. He’d taunted me and dragged me into this. I’d lost Shelby, Simmons, and came very close to losing Cooper too. I was done risking the life of my team. Hunt wanted me, and that was the only thing he was going to get.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, doing what I could to keep the anxiety and adrenaline at bay. It was already getting dark, the amber light of the sun fading behind the mountains. I took in the area around me as I drove. Typical Montana countryside. One house every few miles, acres upon acres of land, trees, and fields, and beauty you just couldn’t get anywhere else in the world. I was going to spend more time appreciating it when this was all over. I’d ignored it for thirty years while I kept my head down and worked hard, it was time I enjoyed it.
I was surprised and a little skeptical that my GPS was actually leading me where I needed to go, but sure enough I came into a wooded area, trees extending into the evening sky on either side of the road. My cell screen was telling me that my turn was coming up in about a quarter mile and that was verified by a yellow hidden drive sign a few hundred feet before a dirt driveway.
I flipped off the headlights and made my turn onto the path, inching slowly onto the property. Although I fully intended to be the life of this party, I wanted my arrival to be a surprise. When Cooper told me this place was secluded, she’d made a drastic understatement. I traveled for about a mile in nothing but woods before I finally spotted some light. It was coming from a window and after twenty or thirty more feet, the rest of the house came into view.
I willed the tired to come to a silent halt and parked where my car would still be hidden and out of view if someone had been looking out from the house. I stepped out and eased the car door closed being careful not to slam it or create any noise by shutting it. I started, on foot, toward the home, choosing each step carefully. The only sounds out here were the occasional purr of the
owls or chirps from the beetles, I didn’t want my footsteps to add to the ambiance.
The house was exactly what I expected from the brief description Cooper gave me. Old, raggedy and run down, but solid. One glance at the structure and it was clear it was built decades before, maybe centuries. The siding looked to be made of wood and too many planks were sticking out or hanging from the sides. Any paint that had existed at one time had become extinct and the base color of the home was the dark brown of the wood that held it together. It was in desperate need of some repairs and alterations, but the base was sound. It made the perfect get away, or in this case, secluded location to torture and dismember young women.
I chose my place behind a large tree a hundred paces or so from the front door. It was clear the someone was inside. The kitchen light was on and I could see through a living room window that the TV was running. There was smoke coming from the chimney and it was a safe assumption that a fireplace was the main heat source. I hadn’t caught sight of any movement inside though. I reached up and removed my Glock 19 from my side holster, checking quickly to ensure it was hot. I reached behind me with my other hand and brough out my spare magazine from my pocket, confirming that it was full.
I had no idea how this was going to go down, but the last thing I wanted was to make it easy for Hunt by being severely outgunned. I put the spare mag back into my pocket and checked the windows at the front of the house once more. Seeing no one and feeling certain that I had not been seen and was not being watched, I moved quickly from my vantage point to the side of the house. I kept the windows in sight as I moved. Firstly to keep an eye out for any movement, additionally so that I would see if I’d been spotted giving me time to dive out of the way and avoid the hail of bullets I was confident Hunt had ready for me whenever we should meet.
I rounded the corner of the house and found my target. The back door. No door was a safe door to enter through when raiding a place, especially when alone and with no backup on site, but the back door was as good as any and seemed to be less lit than the rest of the house. I peered over the windowsill that allowed view into a small mudroom. From there, there appeared to be a doorway that led into a laundry room.
Still, I saw no movement and no dark silhouette hiding in a corner waiting for me to arrive. I arrived at the door and tried the knob. Fuck, I thought as the knob refused to turn. The goal was to enter as quietly as possible and maintain the element of surprise. This just made that a lot harder. I had two options available to me. I could kick in the door alerting him to my arrival and hope to God he wasn’t armed and ready to shoot somewhere in the house, or I could try to break a window as quietly as possible and climb through hoping he hadn’t heard the shattering glass.
I thought about it momentarily, weighing the options and possible outcomes. I could do my best to quietly bust the window, but that would take a lot more time and could result in exactly the same thing as if I just kicked the damn door in. At the end of the day, if it was my time, it was my time and being slightly more quiet was not going to make a difference either way.
I slammed my boot into the door as close to the knob and lock as possible. The wooden plank of a door flew open crashing into the wall inside the mudroom. I wasted little time jumping into the house and maneuvering through the mudroom and into the laundry room. There was zero chance that he hadn’t heard me enter. I knew that at that very moment he was loading a bullet into the chamber of whatever firearm he had on him, maybe crouching in a corner ready to pull the trigger the second I stepped into view. Too late to worry about that now.
I shifted my feet carefully as I worked my way through the laundry area that spilled into the living room. The TV was still on, I could hear it. A news station. Sounded like Channel 24. Lying, fake-news bastards, I caught myself thinking. I held the Glock out in front of me as I arrived inches before the opening. I took in a deep breath, held it inside my sternum for three long seconds, released it and moved into the living room just in time to see a man exiting through a side door. It was James Hunt.
Chapter 32: Only the Truth
Within seconds I was out the side door after him, but he’d gained a lot of ground in that short amount of time. He was already so far into the woods that I could barely see him in the dark and he was gaining ground every passing moment. I broke into a run. The same adrenaline that had found its way into my legs when I’d arrived at the hospital to see Cooper found their way back, activating my feet, calves and quads.
I began gaining on him. I fully believed he wasn’t running at full speed thinking that he could easily outrun me, but I was catching up to him too quickly for him to react. By the time he turned to look over his shoulder, it was already too late. I pressed with my toes and launched myself toward him, wrapping my arms around him and refusing to let go as we both crumbled onto the ground.
I’d taken him off of his feet on the edge of a small downhill portion of the path we’d been running down. We both began flipping and rolling in different directions as our bodies worked their way down the decline. When we finally arrived at a level area, we both laid where we were for a moment, trying to catch our breath. The fall had driven the air out of both of us as was obvious from the deep breaths we were both taking.
He forced himself up to a knee, but I was faster. I sprang to my feet drawing my gun and pointing it directly at his head. He didn’t stand, didn’t run and didn’t put his hands in the air. This wasn’t how I expected things to go down. I expected a final shootout back in the house. A hail of bullets and gunfire taking at least one life. I certainly hadn’t expected him to surrender.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “No more games, no more talking.”
I took the aim off of him and used my thumb to press the magazine release on the side of my Glock. I pumped the slide back and forward quickly, discharging the round that had been residing idle in the chamber. I tossed the gun to my left and showed him my empty hands.
“This is what you’ve wanted for a long time, Hunt, now you got it. Let’s see what you’re made of kid,” I said taking a step toward him.
He looked like he was about to object, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded his head slowly and stood to his feet, bringing his hands up in front of him. We began moving in a circle, carefully closing in on one another. This had been building for years, since long before he’d snapped and started killing. The resentment. The anger. The rage. He’d spent so much time hating me in silence that it’d eventually broke him. Now he had a chance to rectify it.
He stepped forward taking the first swing. I immediately tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth from the blow. The hit was followed by and uppercut that landed square in the middle of my ribcage. I bent over trying not to wheeze but looking up at him knowing what was coming next. As I predicted, he brought another right hand toward my face. Anticipation was the best tool to have in a fight.
I moved my head out of his path, letting the force and momentum of the swing take him to a knee. At the same time, I stood up and brought my right knee up hard connecting directly underneath his chin sending him backward flat onto his back. My first instinct was to jump on him and continue the assault, but I didn’t. I wanted this to last. I wanted to savor it. This was the man who’d destroyed my life and taken so many others. I didn’t want it to be over too quick.
He rolled over using his hands to help get back to his feet. He turned to me and wiped the blood that was gushing from his nose away with his forearm, the deep red substance smearing across his cheek. I could see the rage in his eyes, it was the same rage that I felt rushing through my frame. He moved toward me; fists clenched tight. I dropped my hands to my side leaving myself unguarded, refusing to show him any fear.
He threw a straight left hand cracking me in the forehead and followed up with a hard roundhouse kick to my face forcing me to spin around and onto the ground. Like I
had, he waited for me to get to my feet. I moved toward him drawing my fist back, but as he brought his hands up to block his face, I drove my left foot into his chest making him stumble backward. His back hit a tree and he turned to see what he’d run into giving me the perfect opportunity.
I ran at him and slammed my forearm into his face and driving the back of his head into the tree. For a second, I thought I’d knocked him unconscious. The life flushed from his eyes for an instant and his shook his head trying to remember where he was at and what had happened. I didn’t give him the chance. With my left hand I grabbed his chin lifting his head up and then drove my right hand into his temple. I held onto his face keeping him standing, pulled his head back up straight and swung again.
I repeated the act a third time, but he’d caught on. He ducked under my swing, clasped his arms around my legs, picked me up, moved three feet away from the tree and slammed me onto the ground. I was sure several of my ribs broke immediately upon impact and I started coughing up blood instantly. I’d been well aware of how well I knew him, but I underestimated how well he knew me.
As I worked to catch my breath and get my coughing under control, he lifted my right pant leg revealing the Glock 42 that I had secured to my leg in an ankle holster. My backup weapon. I’d completely forgotten that I had it, but he hadn’t. Before I’d had time to register what he was doing, he’d released the clasp and removed it from my holster standing and aiming it at my chest.
I fought to keep the fear from showing in my face. If he was going to kill me, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell I was about to give him what he wanted the most. I stood to my feet as he backed away two steps knowing full well if he was too close, I would lash out and knock that gun away.
“What the fuck are you waiting for you son of a bitch? Do it. Pull the trigger,” I spat.
