“Well, if you’re going to get wherever you’re going, you’ll need another driver.” She settled back in her seat and closed her eyes. “Might as well catch a nap so I’ll be ready to spell you.”
Joshua had never appreciated this woman more than he did in that moment.
* * *
Sariah listened as Agent Klinger swore a blue streak.
To be honest, she felt much the same. There were two major differences between the two of them. The first was that Agent Klingler didn’t know that Joshua was wearing a bracelet. One that would allow Sariah to track his every movement.
The second was that Klingler hadn’t seen Joshua’s face after he’d killed Bailey.
Sariah knew Joshua. Knew that he wouldn’t do something like this for no good reason. She might not like the reason, but she respected him enough that she could trust him. At least when he wasn’t drinking.
And that was the other thing. It wasn’t just Joshua who was missing. So was his sober companion. If she was with him, then not only was Joshua unlikely to drink, but there had to be a good reason for his leaving.
Off to the side, Reggie’s wounds were being seen to by one of the base medics. As traumatizing as her experience must have been, her wounds weren’t incapacitating. And as much as Sariah might want to leave her here at the base for additional treatment, when she had broached the subject with Reggie, the young cop’s face had grown hard.
There wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to be left behind.
In the meantime, the agent’s oaths were growing more extreme and improbable by the moment. Sariah was certain that at least half of what he was saying now was a physical impossibility.
“Klingler,” she interrupted his tirade to say. “I’m sorry about this.”
“Sorry…? He stole… stole… a Humvee.”
Sariah cleared her throat. “I think it might be more of a… borrow.”
It was so outrageous a comment that it seemed to stop Klingler in his tracks. He frowned at her, like he was trying to understand whatever foreign language was coming out of her mouth.
She continued, hoping to convince him before he got his steam back up and running. “Joshua has been on the Humpty case for a long time, and I think he’s seen something that we missed.”
“That doesn’t matter!” he yelled. “You don’t just go around taking government property. I have to report this, and he’ll end up serving time.”
Sariah nodded, but her mind was racing. “I understand your point of view, Agent Klingler, but can I ask… no beg… your indulgence?”
He looked at her, his eyes bugging out of his face a bit. There was no gesture for her to continue, but neither was there one telling her to stop.
“I can track Joshua. He’s equipped with a… tracking device… that will allow us to follow him.”
Klingler’s eyes narrowed, but he was still listening. Sariah hoped that was a good sign. It sounded like, for Joshua to remain free, it would have to be.
“If you told your superiors that you’re tracking down a lead, would they allow you… us… to use the other Humvees to trail him?”
Rubbing a hand across his face, Klingler pursed his lips. “So you want me to lie for you? For your teammate?”
“It’s not a lie,” Sariah clarified. “I really believe this is what is happening. And that by following Joshua, he’ll lead us to the real Humpty, instead of the protégés we’ve been chasing since we started this case.”
“Humpty…” he murmured.
She could almost see his thought process. It was a potent case, and any assistance on solving it could be excellent press. Klingler wasn’t a bad man. He just didn’t know Joshua well enough to trust him.
But Sariah did. At least when it came to Humpty.
Finally Klingler nodded. “I’ll need to make a few phone calls.”
Had grinned and clapped his hands together. “We’re going on a road trip!”
Sariah suppressed a sigh. She had no desire to suppress Had’s excitement, but she had a much more grim outlook on it.
This was a road trip that could end in someone’s death.
* * *
It was almost dawn of the next day before they arrived. The sky had grown darker and darker as the air had grown thicker and thicker. The arid atmosphere of Oklahoma had given way to the ever-moister climes of Arkansas, Tennessee, West Virginia, and finally Virginia. And as they had driven, the heat of the Indian Summer had begun to evaporate, leaving in its wake a chill that started to make its way into Joshua’s bones.
There had been moments in the trip where Joshua had begun to second-guess himself. This couldn’t be right. There was no way. It couldn’t be true.
And then the song would drift through his mind, and once more he was certain.
Jack fell down and broke his crown…
The neighborhood was still, the morning too early for many of its residents to be awake. They passed by the park, and Joshua felt his gut twist into a knot.
“We should stop here,” he uttered. Even to himself, his tone felt dead.
Leslie had been driving for the last five hours while Joshua napped. The napping had been filled with nightmarish visions of this coming confrontation. He had drifted in and out of a restless sleep, finding no surcease to his pain in the fading of consciousness.
The Humvee pulled to a stop, and Leslie turned to face him.
“This is not something you should do alone,” she said for the hundredth time since their trip had begun and Joshua had told her of his plan.
“This is something I have to do alone,” he replied matching her hundred with his own.
She nodded once, a graceless gesture, as she turned to face the front windshield. Joshua called to Bella, and she moved toward him, her tail down and unmoving.
He might need to do this without another person, but he wasn’t about to do it without her. Pushing open the door, he stepped out, Bella at his side.
The house looked different at night, all the shadows from the streetlamp creating harsh corners and edges that could leap out and tear at his flesh. He moved with urgency, picking up the pace with each step, until he was almost running as he reached the house.
Without hesitation, Joshua planted his foot against the door and kicked it in. There was a crack of the lock breaking, then the shattering of the frosted glass window in the upper third of the door as it struck the wall with brutal force.
And there, sitting right in front of Joshua with no trace of surprise on his face, was the old man. His wheelchair was facing the door, and it appeared almost as if Joshua’s father-in-law had been waiting there for him.
“Why?” Joshua croaked, his throat doing what it could to close off communication with this man.
“Manners, Joshua. Hello to you, too,” George sneered. “I don’t suppose you’re asking what I’m doing up so early? Yours is a question that sounds like it runs deep.”
But Joshua remained planted in front of this toxic, evil old man, not speaking another word. His father-in-law sighed, dropping his hand to the joystick used to steer his mechanical chair.
“Ah, Joshua. So filled with righteous indignation.” He turned his chair and scooted back into the kitchen, Joshua following a cautious step behind.
This was Humpty Dumpty, one of the most brutal killers the country had ever known. His home was a place in which one should step carefully.
The kitchen was a demolition area. Tools and wood planks were scattered around the room, and on the table was what looked to be a battery-operated jigsaw. Someone had been doing some extensive remodeling.
All the sharp edges had been sawed off the counters, there were gaping holes where many of the cabinets had been before. And in the corner of the room was a doorway that Joshua didn’t remember seeing before.
He shook his head. None of that mattered.
“Why?” he asked again, his voice stronger this time.
His father-in-law stared at him, then clucked his tongue.
“Children should never stay with their parents after they’ve moved out of the home. You never know what plans you might be disrupting when you do so.”
Joshua felt his skin crawl. George was referring to his work as Humpty Dumpty. Jacqueline or one of the girls must have caught him at it. Found him out.
And the bastard had known how close Joshua had been getting.
“So you killed them?” Joshua breathed, appalled at the depths to which even this monster could fall. “And then ran them through a wood chipper? Your daughter? Your granddaughters?”
“Oh, not all of my granddaughters, Joshua. Remember? She wasn’t just your favorite, you know.” The old man’s mouth quirked up at the corner of his lips. “Turned out she had a real talent for the family business.”
Joshua’s sight was bleeding. It had to be. There was no other explanation for the brightly hued color of red he was seeing right now.
Every instinct in Joshua’s body told him to walk over and crush the life out of this miserable cockroach’s form. He could feel his hands curling into claws ready to rip the eyes from this man’s sockets.
But he had to know all of it.
“So my life, my happiness, my family…” Joshua hissed, “you just decided to crush them all because you were scared?”
The old man’s face hardened. “I have never been scared in my life!” he barked back, spittle flying from his mouth. “Certainly not of you.” The scorn bled through his tone, his expression scathing.
But Joshua could see that the old man had lost control. Even if it was just for a moment.
He was frightened.
His father-in-law calmed himself, cleaning off his chin where a dribble of saliva had run down from his lips. Then he straightened in his chair.
“So you’ve come to end it all?” he spat. “Come on ahead, if you think you’re man enough to do it.”
Without even being aware of how they had gotten there, Joshua found his hands around the old man’s neck. A scent of old aftershave washed over him as his fingers tightened in a vise grip, cutting off the bastard’s air.
And the whole time, George’s black eyes glittered at him, filled with hatred and fury. He made no move to evade Joshua’s grip. No attempt to shove Joshua away.
Joshua’s sight narrowed to the point that all he saw where the shining coals of his father-in-law’s irises. But then a sound interrupted his pinpoint focus.
It was Bella, and she was whining.
She was at his side, tugging at his pants. The insistence in both her actions and the sounds she was making cut through the red haze that had covered everything Joshua could see.
The old man deserved to die. He clamped down on George’s throat again, trying to squeeze the life out of him.
A tug at his pants. Another whine.
Joshua turned to look into Bella’s face, and as he did so he caught a reflection of himself in her eyes. The expression was one that he knew.
He’d seen it at the cemetery, glaring across at him, that day the tombstones for his wife and girls had been placed over empty graves. It had been present on his father-in-law’s face at the same graveyard, every year on the anniversary of his family’s death. Joshua had seen it that very night, as he stared into the weathered face of the man who had taken his family.
Joshua was becoming a monster. And Bella was trying to save him.
He released his grip, staggering back a step. His father-in-law took in a deep, shuddering breath, coughed once, and stared at Joshua.
“I knew you were too weak,” he croaked.
And in one fluid motion, the old man pulled a gleaming knife out of a sheath hidden in the arm of the wheelchair, while leaping up with legs that had never needed assistance. Joshua felt the blade shove itself deep into his side, robbing him of every emotion and sensation but pain.
The old man was so strong. The shock of that revelation was almost as strong as the agony that radiated up from where the knife had entered him. The fire of awareness battled with the blaze of distress, and in their confrontation, an answer to a nagging question sprang into Joshua’s mind.
“You…” he gasped in realization. “You were the sniper.”
“Oh, so you just now figured that out, did you?” the old man grated. “You never were the brightest lad.”
Joshua clutched at the hand that held the blade as George put his face right next to his. A feral grin covered the man’s face as he spat his mocking rage. With every word, the old man shoved the knife deeper.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance, Joshy-boy.”
There was a snarl from Bella, and George’s expression turned to one of shock and surprise as the dog clamped down on his leg, ripping into the tendons there. The old man turned his attention away from Joshua for a brief moment, kicking Bella to the side.
The Boxador flew into the cupboards, her yelp cut off halfway through. Lying on her side, Bella shook her head, dazed. But she had done what Joshua knew she had set out to do. She had distracted the old man.
It was enough.
Rearing back, Joshua lashed his head forward with all of his strength, striking his forehead directly into the old man’s temple. George stumbled back with a moan, pulling the knife out of Joshua’s side.
The pain tugged at Joshua’s awareness, urging the release of unconsciousness, but he fought back. Now was not the time to let go.
He struggled to move away from his father-in-law, clutching to his awareness as he tried to get beyond the range of the bastard’s knife. Words forced themselves out from between his gritted teeth.
“Explain it to me, George. Tell me how you could take your only child and put her through a chipper.”
The old man regained his footing and turned to face Joshua again.
“You have no idea what that cost me,” he growled. “And it never would have been necessary if it hadn’t been for you.”
George lashed out with the knife, trying to catch Joshua across the eyes. But Joshua was prepared. He dodged back, feeling the knife’s blade pass right in front of him, missing by millimeters.
But as he whipped his head back, his oblique muscles contracted around the wound, reigniting the coals of pain that burned there. He tried to keep his reaction from showing, but from the gleam in the old man’s eyes, he could tell he wasn’t successful.
“You’re right. It’s all my fault,” Joshua gasped, holding onto his side, trying to staunch the bleeding as best he could. “That’s what you’ve been telling me all these years isn’t it? Every birthday, every anniversary, acid on top of acid.”
The injury pulsed in its fury, an echo of the expression mirrored in the face of the man who caused it. It was like the bastard had infected him with poison that was leaching the strength from his body with every step he took.
“You made me think it was because of me that they died,” Joshua continued, “when it was you who cut them into pieces and then shredded them.”
“Ah, Jacquie,” George sighed, his face going slack for a moment. But his feet kept moving, shifting closer and closer, forcing Joshua to keep moving back and around the table. “She always was too curious for her own good. Surprised me at my work down in the basement. And then the rest… well, let’s just say it went downhill from there.”
Bella stirred in the corner, starting to come out of her stupor. Hope warred with concern for her safety, as Joshua saw that soon she would get up and start to attack once more. And the next time, the old man might give her a lot more than a kick.
Trying to distract his father-in-law’s attention away from his dog, Joshua spoke once more. He pounded on the table, the sharp slap ringing out in the torn apart room.
“What is that supposed to make me do? Pity you?”
The old man snickered as he held the knife tucked in alongside his arm, the blade down and the sharp edge facing out. A fighter’s stance.
Joshua’s heart sank. Apparently his father-in-law knew something about close-qua
rters combat.
An inexperienced fighter would hold the knife with the blade out and up, making it easier to disarm or to avoid the awkward thrust that the position afforded. But a knife held as George now did was a powerful tool used to slash upward and then stab on the down stroke. It was much harder to evade, much harder to disarm.
And the bastard was stronger and faster than Joshua ever would have imagined.
“Too much for you, Joshy-boy? Pity’s for the weak,” George said, moving closer, his knife held low, blade tucked along the length of his forearm. “How long have I been trying to teach you that?”
The blade slashed upward.
Joshua lifted his forearm, allowing the knife to cut deep into the flesh there. The pain was sharp and fresh, but nothing compared to what he was feeling in his side.
“But you always were soft. Weak,” the old man hissed. “Livvie was more of a man that you are.”
The mention of his daughter’s name rang in Joshua’s ears. Anger surged up from his gut, and he screamed his rage into the black pit that was the bastard’s empty eyes. The pain that flared in Joshua’s side was nothing to the raging fire within.
“That was my little girl! And you warped her. You twisted and beat and jabbed to remake her in your own image.”
“She was strong,” George said. “Strong in a way that you could never be.” Reaching out and slapping Joshua’s cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding the knife.
Joshua felt his face heat with shame. It was a humiliating blow, intended to mock. To belittle.
It had worked.
Stumbling away from the man, Joshua felt another ringing blow land on his opposite check. This one from a backhanded blow.
The old man continued, his teeth bared in the skeletal approximation of a grin. “Do you think Livvie ever would have slept in the gutter trying to drink herself to death? You think she would have sunk that low?”
He was right, Joshua knew. Livvie would never have given up the way that he had. She had always been so bright, so full of life… so stubborn.
That stubbornness stared back at Joshua from George’s face. It made Joshua want to peel the skin from the man’s skull, just to keep him from looking like his granddaughter.
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