“Because I want to save my family.”
“I think it was to kill me,” Cory replied smugly.
Ellie shook her head. “I’m nothing like you.”
“You will be after I shoot them.” Cory said.
Ellie didn’t reply to that. Peaches gestured for her family to be quiet as he silently made his way toward them.
Ellie put aside her pride. “Tell me more.”
“Suddenly interested now?” Cory asked.
“We both know only one of us is getting out of here today,” Ellie said. “Might as well lay our cards out on the table.”
Cory’s expression went from cocky to somber. “Neither of us are leaving, Mrs. Batter.”
A chill raced down Ellie’s spine.
Peaches moved closer to Martha, Paul, and Howard, slipping from cover to cover. He aimed his gun at Cory, but couldn’t get a clear shot.
“How long did you stay here?” Ellie asked.
“A very long time,” Cory replied. “The man who I stayed with died. Apparently he had a brain tumor. His friends kept me company while I plotted my revenge.”
“You spent twenty-two years here?” Ellie asked, trying to keep him distracted as Peaches began to untie the knots.
“No,” Cory admitted. “I’d go out, break into people’s houses, steal food and money. I knew that if I showed my face, people would recognize me. After about five years, I wasn’t concerned. Andy, Kim, Pam, Mike, and Ken had all vanished to live their lives. After many years of searching, I found Ken living here in Lancaster. I built a museum in the old barn near the tree for him, but when I saw him in his back yard. I couldn’t control myself. I killed him right there. Left him a crow to remind him of my sister. During that time, I learned that the others all went to Northampton. I saved some money and got a cheap apartment there to watch them. 42A. Both of those places are now gone thanks to you.”
Peaches started to remove the ropes restraining Paul.
Ellie kept the gun trained on Cory, but aiming upward put a strain on her arms and shoulders.
Cory glared at her. “I have a question for you, Ellie.”
“What’s that?”
“Why you?” Cory asked. “Why come after me? Why try to save Kimberly, Pamela, and the others?”
“I thought you’d know,” Ellie said, noticing Peaches’s struggles with Paul’s binds. Ellie felt her arms tiring. Hurry up, she screamed in her mind.
Cory tilted his head to side, not unlike a confused dog.
“The portraits,” Ellie replied. “I painted Kimberly’s, Pamela’s, Andrew’s, and Troy’s demise before they happened. Just like I painted today, and you are the centerpiece, Cory.”
Without warning, Cory turned back.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!” Ellie shouted.
Too late. He saw Peaches and opened fire.
8
JUSTICE
Peaches kicked Paul to the side, sending him, Martha, and Howard toppling over as Cory shot down at them. Keeping his head low and firing back, Peaches darted for cover behind the circular saw. Bullets followed him, hitting the ground around his feet and blasting up puffs of dust.
Ellie squeezed the trigger. The recoil jolted the gun upward. The bullet was inches away from putting a hole in Cory’s head. She fired again. Missed. Cory, caught between two shooters, dashed across the bridge as bullets crisscrossed him. Ellie shot at him as he turned from the bridge onto the left side balcony that extended the length of the room. He ran past the office doors and vaulted over the railing. He landed in a somersault on top of one of the large saw control generators. He hunched his head low and shot blindly at Ellie. She scrambled toward cover away from him, knocking into one of the mannequins.
Cory leapt from the generator and landed on the first-floor level with the rest of them. He swiftly turned and darted Ellie’s way. She lined up a shot and fired. Empty. Her eyes widened as Cory charged her, grabbed her neck with one hand, and dragged her through one of his many displays. Ellie’s back hit the conveyor belt. She let out a short, pained gasp. Still holding Ellie by the neck, Cory hovered his pistol in front of her face. She looked at the black eye of the gun barrel. Tears of blood seeped out of the graze on her neck and the stitched slash on her cheek.
Over the sound of Ellie’s family fidgeting in their binds, Cory yelled. “Come out, Detective!”
Ellie attempted to look over her shoulder but could only turn her head slightly from the barrel. In the corner of her vision, she watched the circular saw where Peaches had hidden, but didn’t see him come out.
She turned back to Cory’s hideous face and looked into his multicolored eyes. Cory tightened his grip on her neck. Blood leaked from her neck through the thin gaps between his fingers.
“It looks like your detective has abandoned you.” Cory gloated.
Ellie kept her hands raised up at shoulder level, terrified that any sudden movement would set Cory’s weapon off. She tried to talk. Cory slightly loosened his grip.
Ellie coughed. “At least have enough decency to tell me about the portraits.”
“I thought you’d want to beg for your family?” Cory asked, reveling in his authority.
“Would you release them if I did?” Ellie asked.
Cory smiled, showing off his mouth full of broken teeth. “Of course not. But, don’t worry, with their deaths, people will know to stay away from me.”
“You’re worse than those you killed,” Ellie said. “Where’s the justice in that?”
Cory opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t speak. His pale face turned red with anger. His fingernails dug into the flesh of Ellie’s neck. Spotting something, his eyes darted to Peaches, who had popped out of cover. Cory kept the gun aimed at Ellie.
Peaches watched him cautiously. “Careful now, Cory. You don’t want to leave here in a body bag.”
“You’re alive, Detective, only because I allow it,” Cory said spitefully. “Put down your gun or I put her down.”
Ellie’s heart raced. The slash on her face stung. Her breath was constricted by Cory’s vise grip.
Peaches grinned confidently. “If that’s what you want.” He started to lower his weapon to the floor. The sudden surrender surprised Cory. Using her one opportunity to get the upper hand, Ellie grabbed Cory’s pistol with both hands and pushed it aside. Still squatting, Peaches fired a round. The top of Cory’s ear blew off. He threw his head back. Ellie slammed her knee into his groin.
Cory lost his grip on Ellie’s neck, but not the gun. Still holding the killer’s weapon, Ellie slammed the top of Cory’s hand into the metal railing of the belt a half-dozen times before his skin ruptured, the weapon discharged, and he lost his grip. The weapon fell through the rolling bars of the belt. Cory grabbed a handful of Ellie’s hair and slammed her to the ground. Ellie lost her breath as the killer got on top of her and pulled the knife from his belt.
“Ellie!” her mother yelled.
“Get off of her!” Paul shouted.
Using both hands, Cory pressed the point of his knife down on Ellie’s eye. She stopped it centimeters from her iris. His expression was calm and terrifying. Peaches approached and aimed the gun at him.
“Drop the knife,” Peaches commanded.
Cory pressed the blade down harder. Ellie pushed back with all her might. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t how she would die in the portrait, but it was death nonetheless.
Bam!
Cory’s eyes went wide. He stopped pressing down the blade and glanced down to the hole in his chest.
Bam!
Another bullet punched him in the belly and sent him toppling backwards. His back hit the floor, sending up a puff of sawdust. The knife fell from his loose fingers.
Peaches lowered the smoking gun. He let out an exasperated sigh.
Peppered with blood, Ellie scrambled toward Cory. She mumbled under her breath, “No no no.”
She knocked Cory’s knife away and put her hand on his cold cheek. Cory turned his fear-fi
lled eyes to her. His lip quivered. “Angela?”
“The paintings, Cory. Tell me about the paintings,” Ellie pleaded.
Cory’s lip twitched into a smile. “I missed you.”
“Please, Cory. Focus,” Ellie demanded. She turned to Peaches. “Call an ambulance.”
“They’ll arrest us, Ellie,” Peaches reminded her.
“Just do it!” Ellie shouted.
Hesitant, Peaches drew out his cellphone and lifted it high in search of service.
Cory mumbled. “I fulfilled my vow, Angela. They're all gone. You can rest now.” The Christmas lights reflected in his eyes.
Ellie lightly slapped him on the cheek. “Why did this happen to me, Cory? Tell me.”
Peaches paced around behind her and spoke into the phone. “This is Detective Adrian Peaches. We need immediate medical attention…”
Ellie tuned out his voice, focusing solely on Cory. She slapped him harder. “Cory. Cory!”
Cory grabbed her wrist. His lips were sealed tight. His cheeks expanded. Suddenly, he started laughing hysterically, spitting up blood. Ellie gawked at him. The mad man chuckled wildly, being completely consumed by his insanity.
“I don’t know,” he laughed. “I don’t know!”
His grip loosened on Ellie’s wrist, his laughter died down, and his arm fell limply to his side. Ellie watched as the flicker of light left his eyes. She sat like that for a moment, staring at Cory’s limp body.
Peaches’s shadow fell over her. He extended a hand. Without looking up at him, she accepted and got to her weak legs.
“He’s gone,” Peaches declared.
“I know,” Ellie replied. The tipped chairs at the back of the room grabbed her attention. She headed that way. Paul, Martha, and Howard were all in various states of panic. She approached her mother first.
“Ellie?” Martha struggled with her binds. Her face was wet with tears.
Ellie took a knee and untied the rope around Martha’s wrists and ankles. “It’s okay, Mom.”
Martha squeezed the raw skin on her wrists. She wrapped her arms around Ellie and cried into her shoulder. “What did he do to you, darling?” Martha asked.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Ellie said, teary-eyed. She helped her mother rise. Peaches undid the knots holding Paul and Howard. They turned to Cory’s body on the floor.
Howard looked sick. His Lionel train shirt had massive sweat stains around his neckline and armpits. “Ellie, who is that man? How did this happen?”
Paul and Ellie exchanged a glance. “It doesn’t matter,” Ellie said. “He’s gone now.”
It was clear that her parents had more questions, but Ellie kept her lips sealed. She gave her little brother a harsh look to make sure he’d stay silent as well. The Smiths embraced again. Martha wept. Peaches stayed on the sidelines, smiling slyly to himself.
The ambulance and two police cruisers arrived. The officers and paramedics moved into the saw mill. They rushed to the body first, but Cory had already gone cold. The officers walked around, in awe of the Christmas lights. Ellie told a deep breath and approached them. Peaches followed. They told the policemen about the abduction and Cory, but left out the details of the death portraits and Andrew’s fate. The officers put cuffs on Ellie and ushered her out of the squad car. Her parents held each other’s wrinkled hand with looks of sadness. Paul had his hands in his pocket. He nodded respectfully as the officer lowered her into the backseat. As she was driven away, she watched her family diminish as the dusty road grew longer.
DRESSED IN WHITE, Ellie sat up on her white bed and looked at the white walls. She stretched her arms high above her head and rolled out the crick in her neck. She put on her slip-on shoes at the foot of her bed, stood, and approached her clouded glass window. She rested her forearm above her head and against the wall, and looked at the blob-like trees. The graze on her neck had shrunken and scabbed over. It was the stitches beneath her right eye that would leave a permanent scar.
There was a gentle knock on the door.
It opened, and standing at the threshold was a cute young nurse holding a file over her flat belly. “Mrs. Batter?”
Ellie heard her, but didn’t bother looking back.
The nurse took a soft step inside. “Mrs. Batter, it’s in regards to your release.”
That grabbed Ellie’s attention.
She followed the nurse through the halls of the mental hospital, by the mess hall that played science fiction movies on TV, and into a collection area where Ellie was given her folded clothes, shoes, and simple wedding ring: the only items she had when she entered the mental hospital. She changed and returned to the desk.
The woman at the desk eyed her with pity. “You have someone to take you home?”
Ellie shook her head.
“I’m here,” a familiar voice said behind her. Ellie turned back to Detective Peaches. He wore charcoal slacks, shiny leather shoes, a wrinkle-free button-up, and a dark blue fitted suit jacket. The nurse blushed when she saw him. Peaches smiled confidently to himself.
“Ready?” he asked Ellie.
Ellie nodded. They stepped out of the sliding doors and into the morning. Ellie breathed in the cool Massachusetts air and let it bring life back into her lungs.
Peaches stood with her as they looked at the city of Northampton. The buildings were tall and colonial style, reminding the world of the city’s rich history. But there were also enough galleries and artistic outlets to show its progression. Peaches pulled out a pristine pack of gum and offered her a piece. Ellie refused with a soft gesture. Peaches took out a stick, put it in his mouth, and let his shoulders slump. He didn’t seem to be in a rush to go anywhere.
“How was it?” he asked.
“Five days in a mental hospital? Better than a cruise,” Ellie replied sarcastically.
Peaches smiled at that.
Ellie glanced over, noticing neither detective’s gun or badge were clipped on his belt. “You look lighter,” she remarked.
“Yeah, I decided to take my mandatory vacation,” Peaches admitted. “Skinner’s idea.”
“How long is that for?” Ellie inquired.
Peaches let out a quick chuckle. “Indefinitely.”
“Sorry,” Ellie replied.
Peaches shrugged it off. They were quiet for a moment.
“What’s up with Skinner?” Ellie asked.
“He closed the Cory Barksdale case with the information we gave him. It was enough to clear you, though Andrew Maneau’s confession would’ve been a stronger case. Too bad they never found him”
Ellie didn’t know if she should be happy that her friend got away or dreaded the idea that a guilty man walked free. The choice was his, Ellie told herself. I owed him that much.
“How are you doing?” Peaches asked, obviously referring to the blackouts.
“Things have been quiet,” Ellie admitted.
“Ah,” Peaches said, somewhat disappointed. “Come on. I’ll take you to see Troy.”
Ellie looked at her toes. She tucked her hair behind her ear and followed Peaches to his truck. They climbed in and drove to the hospital. Peaches got the door for her and let her enter first. After signing in, the nurse directed them to where Troy was staying. He was lying on the hospital bed with his torso completely wrapped in bandages. His eyes were closed, and his blond hair and beard had grown since she last saw him. Her heart raced when she looked at him. Her thumb brushed over her ring. Peaches gestured for Ellie to enter. She did so with hesitation.
She stood near Troy, looking down at his handsome face. She listened to the heart rate monitor beeping steadily.
Peaches lingered in the doorway. “I visited him while you were locked up.”
“And?” Ellie asked.
“He hasn’t woken up since the surgery,” Peaches explained. “The doctors said someone must be looking out for you, because he should be dead.”
Ellie took her husband’s hand. He was much colder than she remembered. “Troy?”<
br />
The monotonous beeping of the heart rate monitor replied. Ellie brought his large hand to her cheek, felt the smooth metal of his wedding ring against her stitches, and shut her eyes. Guilt flooded her as she remembered brushing her fingers in his blood.
“Ellie?” said a soft, broken voice.
Ellie looked into her husband’s dark eyes with heavy eyelids. She kissed his fingers and teared up. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“Shh,” Troy whispered. “We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
Ellie bit into her lip to keep it from quivering. She sniffled and turned her eyes up to the ceiling to keep from crying. When she looked back, Troy was sleeping again. Was it a dream? She called the doctor in. The wizened old man said that Troy might start to regain consciousness more often now, but he still had a long road to recovery. After mentally processing this information, Ellie kissed Troy, putting her chapped lips against his. The heart monitor jumped in tempo. When the kiss ended, it returned to normal pace. After spending a little more quiet time with Troy, she turned to Peaches. “I’m ready.”
They set out. They didn’t talk on the ride back to the apartment. Window down, Ellie smiled softly to herself. Her husband was alive, her adversary was dead, and for the first time in a while, she felt peace. She unlocked the door, flipped on the light, and looked at her obliterated apartment.
Ellie’s expression went flat as she looked over the smashed picture frames, broken plants, tipped furniture, and old food rotting on the kitchen floor. “Wonderful.”
She stepped over the toppled coat rack and wrinkled her nose at the horrid stench.
Peaches stepped in behind her. He was much better at hiding his disgust. “Would you like a hand?”
Ellie turned to him, still emotionally dead.
Peaches looked past her. “Okay. Where do I start?”
They grabbed rags, sponges, bleach, and brooms and got to work. The sun fell quickly and, after the rest of the house was clean, they moved into the art room. Ellie and Peaches stood side by side and looked up at Troy’s death mural. They exchanged looks, dipped their paint rollers, and started to paint over the blood, gore, and death with white stripes. It was dark outside when the horrid thing was gone and the four walls of her art room were washed white. Peaches looked a little sad, but didn’t say why. When they finished, they looked out the living room window. Twelves stories below, the city boomed with life and flashing lights. Peaches brought them each a glass of water.
Stolen Secrets: A Collection Of Riveting Mysteries Page 32
