“You!” she screamed. “I should’ve known!”
Knife fight? His turf.
The way she held the blade said she had no idea what she was doing, so he couldn’t help but smile as his reflexes took over. He dropped the tape and flashlight, blocked her wild, awkward slash, grabbed her wrist and spun, trapping her arm under his. In a heartbeat he twisted the blade from her fingers, spun back toward her, and drove it into her chest.
He watched in shock as she staggered back against the wall, her face white, her jaw slack. She looked down at the knife handle jutting from the left side of her chest, then back up at him, disbelief filling her eyes as she began a slow slide down the wall. She landed on her butt, then fell to the side. Her mouth worked a few times but no sound came out. And then she just lay there, her blue eyes wide and staring.
“Aw, shit!”
He hadn’t meant for that to happen. His muscles had acted on their own. This hadn’t been the plan at all. They were supposed to do her out in the desert, not here. All fucking Benny’s fault.
With his balls still hurting, he limped back to the bedroom ready to kick the shit out of Benny who still lay on the floor.
“Benny!”
No answer.
He turned on the light and found Benny looking at the ceiling with the same forever stare as the bitch.
Dead! The two of them … both dead!
He knelt beside Benny and checked him over. Not a scratch on him. What—he die of a heart attack or something? At his age? Sure as shit looked like it. He couldn’t fucking believe it. How could this happen?
How does this shit always happen to me?
Okay, keep cool. Don’t lose it. He and Benny was both wearing gloves, so nobody left any fingerprints. It wouldn’t be easy, but he could lug Benny down to the truck and—
Wait-wait-wait. If he took Benny with him, the sheriff and the county cops and staties too, no doubt, would be looking for whoever killed the bitch. But if he left Benny here, they’d have their answer: Benny broke in, she fought back, he killed her, then had a heart attack or a stroke or whatever. Case closed.
Karma liked it. Neat. All wrapped up and tied with a bow. Pendry would like it too. If she just disappeared, there’d be search parties and people wondering for weeks and months if there’d been foul play or some such shit. But this way nobody had to wonder nothing: Yeah, there was foul play, all right, but everybody would know who’d committed the foul.
He turned out the bedroom light and returned to the kitchen where he grabbed the tape and flashlight. He took another look at the bitch. Her legs was spread in a V and her T-shirt—now all red-soaked around the knife handle—had ridden up during her slide down the wall, showing her pink panties. Man, he’d been so looking forward to plowing into all that. Now she was just dead meat, growing cold.
He turned off the kitchen light and slipped out through the back door, leaving it unlocked behind him. When he hit his pickup, he set Benny’s boots at the bottom of the stairs, then drove away as slow and quiet as he could.
Out on the road, he called Pendry on the burner.
When he picked up, Karma said, “It’s done.”
A pause, then a sigh, “You’re sure?”
“Course I’m sure. She’s on her kitchen floor with a knife in her heart, put there by the dead guy in her bedroom.”
“What? This was not—”
“This is better. Worked out perfect. We got a fall guy. It’s all taken care of. All questions answered.”
Another pause. “They damn well better be. Lose that phone.”
“Yeah.” Like he needed to be told. “See ya around.” He cut the call.
What a fucking night.
He needed a drink something fierce. The Cactus was closed by now, but he had a six of Lone Star in his fridge and he heard it calling his name.
2
Though the voice was inside her head, it seemed to be coming from far away.
(“Daley … Daley, can you hear me? Come back to me, Daley.”)
Daley blinked in the darkness and vaguely made out Pard kneeling beside her.
“Pard?” Her voice sounded like a frog croak. “Oh, I’m so glad you woke me. I had the worst nightmare ever…”
Daley realized then she was on the floor. She put out her hand—why did it weigh a ton?—and felt … linoleum? How’d she get to the kitchen?
(“Daley, don’t waste your strength on speech. And I want you to move as little as possible. That wasn’t a nightmare.”)
Not a—?
(“Listen to me: You’re on the kitchen floor, but you’re not flat. I need you to get flat … flat on your back. Just scooch your buttocks a little and let your upper body slide the rest of the way down.”)
She did the best she could and soon she lay flat. Why did she feel so weak?
(“There. That’s it. Good.”)
My nightmare …
(“As I said, not a nightmare. Karma Kendrick really was here with a friend and they attacked you and Karma stabbed you in the heart with a knife.”)
What? Pard had to be kidding.
In my heart? No … I’d be dead.
(“You should be, and you would be if I hadn’t decided awhile back that your anatomy needed certain modifications.”)
What sort of—?
(“I’ll explain everything later.”)
Why didn’t I bleed to death?
(“Because I wouldn’t allow it. Now we’ll go over everything after—”)
No! Now, Pard. Now! What happened to me?
(“Very well. I suppose it won’t hurt for you to lie flat awhile longer. What do you remember?”)
She tried to organize her thoughts. Everything was a jumble.
I remember waking up with a light in my eyes, and then someone choking me. I remember you telling me to squeeze his arm, and then he let me go and I ran in here. Last I remember I was on my feet in the kitchen.
(“Karma Kendrick and a friend named Benny—”)
How do you know his name?
(“I heard Karma call him that after you went down. They sneaked in, Karma held the light while Benny put a choke hold on you. While you were holding his arm, I went inside him and caused a fatal heart arrhythmia.”)
Fatal? You killed him?
(“It’s what you do to someone who’s trying to kill you. That was why he stopped choking you: He died. You ran but Karma blocked your escape. You pulled a knife out of a drawer but he took it away and used it on you. Then he took off.”)
She lifted her head just enough to look down at her body. Enough moonlight filtered from the front room to outline the handle of the knife jutting from her chest.
“Oh, God!” she croaked as her head dropped back.
(“I’ve got everything pretty much under control.”)
“Pretty much”? What about this Benny guy?
(“I’m assuming he’s still on the floor of your bedroom. I know Karma left without him.”)
An awful thought: Is he coming back?
(“I think he left Benny behind so he’d catch the blame for your murder.”)
I’ve got a dead body in my bedroom? She was wondering how she’d explain all this when she realized: I suppose it could be worse. I mean, that could be my body in there now. But why on earth did he want to kill me? Just because I wouldn’t go out with him?
(“They brought along a roll of duct tape, Daley. I don’t think they had killing in mind. Or at least not right away.”)
As that sank in, Daley’s queasiness graduated to nausea.
I think I’m going to be sick.
(“Please don’t do that. You could disturb the knife.”)
Daley swallowed back her rising gorge, and after a moment the nausea subsided.
I need to know right now, Pard: Why am I still alive?
(“Since joining you I’ve been concerned how, despite many paired organs, the human body has only one heart—a single pump. If something catastrophic befalls the pump—oh, let’s ju
st pick something at random, say, a four-inch knife blade puncturing its left ventricle—you have no way to provide oxygen to your cells and they quickly die.”)
You’re going to tell me you grew me a second heart?
(“No-no. That would be beyond even my prodigious abilities. But I should mention that multiple hearts are not unknown in nature: the giant squid has three. Anyway, I did install a backup system by gradually building up layers of skeletal muscle around your superior and inferior vena cava and your ascending aorta.”)
Meaning?
(“Should your heart stop—which it did—I can still pump blood through your lungs and out into the system. It’s nowhere near as efficient or as powerful as the heart itself, which is why I have you lying flat.”)
What’s that got to do with it?
(“When you’re flat, my stopgap measures don’t have to work against gravity to maintain sufficient blood flow to your brain. I can keep you alive while I repair the damage to the real pump and get it back online.”)
And to think I used to criticize you for being anal.
(“Apology accepted.”)
But once you’ve fixed me up, what do we do?
(“What do you mean?”)
Well, I won’t very well be able to accuse Karma of murdering me. And we’ve got a dead body in my bedroom.
(“You can say Benny attacked you and suddenly dropped dead.”)
That’s the kind of news that makes national headlines. I don’t want Healerina to have those kinds of headlines.
(“It’s the kind of news that will stop Karma from coming back some other time and finishing the job once he learns you’re not dead. You’re a witness against him, after all.”)
There’s got to be another way.
(“Maybe there is, but right now I’m primarily concerned with the damage in here. Why don’t you put that devious mind of yours to work while I make repairs?”)
I’m on it.
Pard faded away.
3
(“Okay, we’re ready,”) Pard said as he materialized, once again kneeling beside her. (“Here’s how we’re going to work it: Before I restart your heart, you’re going to remove the knife to allow me to form a good clot under low-pressure conditions from the auxiliary pump.”)
Auxiliary pump … what am I, the Titanic?
(“Well, you did almost sink. Now—”)
I’m not ready to remove the blade.
(“It won’t hurt. I’ll do a nerve block to—”)
I want to leave it in and go see Karma.
(“Why on earth would you do that? What can you hope to accomplish?”)
I think I can scare the shit out of him.
(“Well, maybe you can and maybe you can’t, but it’s a moot point since there’s no way for you to get there.”)
I’ll drive.
(“You can’t get to your car, Daley. The auxiliary pump can’t maintain enough blood pressure for you to stand, let alone walk down those steps.”)
So you say. I am pissed, Pard. That son of a bitch murdered me, and if he thinks he’s just going to go on with his life as if nothing happened, he’s so very wrong. He murdered the wrong gal.
(“I feel your anger, Daley—literally and figuratively—but facts are facts. You can’t—”)
I’m going to sit up now, Pard, and you’re going to work your ass off pumping enough blood through my system to make this work. Got it?
(“Is there no way to dissuade you?”)
Absolutely none.
(“All right, then, cap’n. Damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead.”)
That’s the spirit.
(“But I feel I must-must-must warn you that if you fall and land on the knife handle, the blade could rip your heart in two, and then even I can’t save you.”)
Thanks for the warning.
(“Well, it’s not as if I have no stake in this. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”)
Daley rolled onto her side, then pushed herself to a sitting position and leaned back against the wall.
The room spun, faded out, then came back into focus. When she felt half stable, she reached for the kitchen chair that stood within reach, and pulled it over. Slowly, carefully, she used it as support to get to her knees, wait some more, then onto the seat where she could lean gasping against the kitchen table and wait for the world to right itself.
(“You’re sure you want to go through with this?”)
Absolutely.
(“You are one determined young lady.”)
A word I heard a lot growing up was “stubborn.”
(“Yes, well, that too.”)
Struggling, she pushed herself slowly to her feet and stood leaning on the table while black blotches nearly blotted out what little of the darkened kitchen she could see. After a few deep breaths she staggered toward the door with Pard walking beside her. When she reached it she slumped against the jamb.
I feel like I’m a hundred years old.
(“I wish I could help you, but…”) He waved a hand and it passed right through her.
I can do it.
She pulled the door open and lurched out onto the landing.
(“Please reconsider, Daley. If you fall here, it’s all over.”)
He had a point.
She lowered herself until she was seated on the top step, then descended one tread at a time on her almost-bare butt.
I go from feeling ancient to going down the stairs like a toddler.
(“But at least you won’t fall.”)
When her bare feet hit the ground, she hauled herself upright and staggered to her Subaru. She never locked it here in Nespodee Springs, and left the keys under the front seat, something she’d never dream of risking in North Hollywood.
After struggling into the driver’s seat, she closed her eyes and leaned back, gathering her strength.
How are you doing with the auxiliary pumps?
(“Barely keeping up. I don’t know how you’re doing this.”)
I need to do this.
She started the car and then drove out of town to the trailer park. From her unsteady, wavering course, anyone watching would think she was drunk. Karma had bragged about his double-wide next to the big dish, so she had no trouble finding it. She pulled to a stop just past it and swung her feet out onto the ground. Was it her imagination, or had standing become just a little bit easier?
I seem to be getting stronger.
(“No, your blood vessels are adjusting to the low pressure, but they can do only so much. I’m worried about your brain. If it doesn’t get sufficient flow, you’ll pass out.”)
Can’t let that happen.
(“Don’t I know.”)
She shuffled to Karma’s door, and stopped.
How do I look?
(“I can only see what you see, remember?”)
Okay, how do you think I look?
(“You’re just inside the moonshadow. If you take a step back, you should be illuminated by very pale light.”)
Good. She wanted to be sure Karma could see the knife handle.
Got it.
She tapped on the door—she wished she had the strength to pound on it, but it simply wasn’t there—and stepped back.
Heavy footsteps sounded inside and the door swung open to reveal Karma Kendrick holding a can of beer.
“Who the fuck—?”
He stared, then dropped both his jaw and the beer as he screamed and fell back. He landed on his butt and kicked-scrambled back until he slammed against the opposite wall.
“You scream like a girl,” Daley said.
As if to reinforce her, he pointed to her chest and screamed again.
“Why did you kill me?”
He whimpered and kicked his feet as if trying to push through the wall.
“I can’t stay dead, Karma. With all the healing crystals in my shop working for me, I can’t die—or at least not for long. I’ll always come back. And now I’m back for you.”
More whimpering
as a dark stain spread across the crotch of his jeans
“I’m not in the business of hurting people, but I made an exception for your friend, Benny.”
“Y-y-you know his name?” he said, high-pitched and barely a whisper.
“I know everything, Karma. I stopped his heart because he was trying to kill me. But he only tried. You … you succeeded.”
Daley paused, unsure where to go from here. In her anger she hadn’t thought this all the way through.
But apparently Pard had. (“I have an idea. Get me some skin contact.”)
What are you—?
(“Trust me. I’ll explain later.”)
How to do this…?
Daley reached out to him. “Give me your hand.”
A whine. “No!”
“I will let you live if you give me your hand now, Karma. Now!”
His hand shook like he was having a seizure as he crawled her way and stretched it toward her. Daley grabbed it and squeezed.
(“Now hang on as long as you can and tell him this is what awaits him.”)
What—?
(“Here I go.”)
Karma’s expression flashed from one of puzzlement to abject horror as his eyes flew wide and he began to scream and thrash. In her weakened state Daley could not hold on for long and he quickly broke free and slammed back against the wall of his trailer.
What did you do?
(“Gave him a short dose of the horrors—re-created from memory. I leave the rest to you.”)
Got it.
“You’ve just seen your future, Karma,” she said when his screams subsided. “Your eternal future.”
He moaned. A pitiful sound.
“Unless…”
He quieted and listened.
“Unless you take Benny’s body and yourself away—far away. I don’t care where you go but I never want to see you again. If I do, I will stop your heart dead as I did Benny’s and send you to the hell I just showed you. Understand?”
He nodded spasmodically.
“You will be gone before sunup.” She started to turn away, then turned back. “Did somebody put you up to this?”
He shook his head.
“All your idea?”
Vigorous nodding.
(“Do you believe him?”)
Double Threat Page 34
