“We were partners, Evan. Why are you doing this?”
“Told you before, doc—two people can only keep a secret if one of them dies.”
Jim saw the odds mounting against him. The clock was ticking, and Sadie was dying. He knew he only had one chance to save her. It had to work. He shook his head and sneered at Evan. “You really are a clown, aren’t you?”
“And proud of it.”
“Always joking at other people’s expense…” Evan’s eyes narrowed. Jim continued to push. “Fact is, Knave, you’re nothing but a coward. A lying, devious, cowardly joke of a man.”
The clown facade suddenly disappeared. “Let him up,” Evan demanded. “Doc and I are going to settle this the old-fashioned way.” Angus backed away. Evan handed him the gun and pulled Jim’s knife. “Nice blade,” he said testing the edge with his thumb. “You do like quality weapons.”
Jim took a deep breath. His busted rib screamed. He stood and brushed himself off. He was no match for the two men, and he knew it. Together they outweighed him by two hundred pounds. They had his gun and his knife, and all Jim had was a bleeding arm, a broken rib, and a busted thumb. But it wouldn’t have mattered if they had been ten-foot gladiators, at that moment Jim was invincible. The cloud surrounded him. The combined release of adrenalin and steroids, dopamine and testosterone, and all the other natural fighting chemicals in his body mixed in his veins to create an omnipotent cocktail potentiated by the strange effect of his new medication. Add to that sheer anger and a lifetime of martial arts training, and the fight was over before it began. He knocked the pistol from Angus’ hand, and then turned and slammed his fist into the big oaf’s chin. Angus grunted and fell like a deflated blimp.
Jim turned, but Evan was already on him. He felt the tip of the razor sharp blade slash his upper arm. Tissues parted as the cold steel filleted his flesh. Evan backed away sneering. Jim touched his arm. It felt sticky and wet, but as before he felt no pain. What he did feel was a sudden burst of raw power. And at that moment, he became fury itself. His muscles contracted in perfect unison. He spun like a top, rotating at the waist and redirecting all of his force at Evan’s jaw. Knuckles met bone. He heard a loud crunch. Without slowing Jim rotated on his left foot and drove a fierce, snapping sidekick into Evan’s mid-section. His bare foot met gut, pushing intestines and organs to the spine. Evan stumbled and dropped the knife. But Jim wasn’t finished. He stepped back and unwound into the most powerful arcing roundhouse kick he had ever delivered—a perfectly placed sweeping foot to the side of Evan’s head. Evan grunted and fell to the ground.
Jim grabbed the Al Mar and pounced on top of him. All his anger, all his hate, every ounce of pent-up energy and aggression and frustration, of animal- like chemically induced rage came together at once. The blinding white cloud of pure devilish energy drove him to the point of madness. He relished it. Revenge would be so sweet. But before he knew it his feet left the ground. He flipped over … rolled … and then felt the ground beneath his shoulders. The cloud lifted and a vise-like hand gripped his throat. A heavy weight fell upon his chest. He couldn’t breathe. Through bulging eyes, he stared up at the shadowy form of Evan Keyes—bloody mouth, broken jaw and nose, eye swollen and cut. Evil radiated from his face.
“So, doc … did you hear the one about the guy that showed up at the knife fight with nothing but his fists?”
Jim knew it was over. Sadie would die in the woods far from home, and he would meet the same fate, knowing he had let her down. He felt the tip of the knife on his neck, he heard Evan laugh, and for a brief moment the explosion that followed made no sense. The knife slashed as expected, but not across his throat. And instead of a severed trachea, and the brief white light and strange new world of white clouds and angels he had expected to see, Jim heard Evan gasp. And then the entire weight of his two hundred and fifty pound partner fell upon him. Jim choked and panted. He pushed the body off, took a pained breath, and then glanced sideways. Evan’s lifeless eyes stared right through him, still wide, his mouth cocked open awkwardly as if caught in a final sick joke. Dark blood dripped from a dime-sized hole in the right side of his head.
Jim had no idea who had shot Evan. He spotted the Browning beside Angus and grabbed it. “Stay back,” he shouted, standing and swinging it toward the trees. “I’ll shoot!”
“Police!” A pair of shadows in black jumpsuits and vests darted from the forest. “Drop the weapon! Now!”
Jim dropped the pistol. “Please don’t shoot!”
“On your knees!”
Jim rolled onto his knees and raised his hands.
“Who are you?” one of the cops shouted. “Are you Jim Stockbridge?”
Jim nodded. “Yes, but … how did you … who are you?”
“Eric Strong, East Beach Police. This is Lieutenant Chavez. Are you all right?”
“What are you guys doing here?”
“Who’s this?” Chavez demanded, kneeling beside Angus. “Is he with you?”
Jim shook his head and pointed at Evan. “Him.”
“Are you okay?” Strong exclaimed. “Your neck’s cut.”
“My neck? Officer,” Jim said, standing, “I need to get back to—”
“We know. Sergeant Barnes is with Miss Miller now. Let’s go!”
* * *
Sadie’s lungs felt paralyzed. She heaved and struggled to breathe until the shadows narrowed into a black tunnel. She heard shouting, and felt movement, but none of it made any sense. She felt something sharp stick into her arm, but it made no clear sense either. The gray light before her eyes became a pinpoint and started to dim. Blackness surrounded her. Her mind began to shut down. But then suddenly, as if awakened from a nightmare, she felt a sudden rush of energy. She felt her pupils dilate. Her heart began to pound. She felt her throat begin to relax, heard voices, and felt people all around her. “Help me with this,” a familiar voice cried. “Push the plunger.”
“Jim?”
“Sadie! Come on,” he cried. “Breathe, baby. Breathe!”
Someone lifted her to a sitting position. A hissing mask fell over her face. She wheezed and crowed and coughed and gasped to suck in the cool, wet medication. Soon her chest began to relax. She pulled the air into her lungs craving every fresh breath, suddenly alive, and suddenly aware of a new sensation—pain. She glanced at Jim. “My arm,” she cried grimacing. “Ooohhh, my arm.”
“I know. We’ll take care of that, too.”
Sadie believed Jim. She trusted him with her life. She breathed deeply and glanced about the scene, trying to understand her terrible nightmare. A cross-shaped wooden post smoldered in the clearing. The wrecked vehicle still smoked near the trees. She heard sirens yelping, saw headlights approaching in the distance. The night had become a fearsome monster, but Sadie had never felt more secure. She had Jim by her side. And the four shadowed men that encircled them resembled watchdogs—fearsome, black-clad warriors standing firm against an unseen darkness.
Sadie let herself go limp in Jim’s strong arms. He kissed her gently on the forehead and stroked her tangled hair. “You’re safe,” he murmured, whispering softly into her ear. “Sadie is finally safe.”
She would always remember it as the most intimate moment of her life.
CHAPTER
51
ONE WEEK LATER
SATURDAY—06:28—SLIP #25, WEST DOCK (Pair-A-Docks) Jim wiped the sleep out of his eyes and climbed the companionway stairs to the cockpit. The pink morning sky glowed with brilliance over Beaufort, a deep, liquid blue overhead. Shoal Survivor rocked slightly as he moved across the cockpit and sat down with his cup. He sipped his coffee and glanced around Pair-A-Docks. The marina still slept. The boats floated peacefully in their slips. Novel Idea looked asleep, too, her hatch pulled tightly shut. A realtor’s sign hung on her stern rail. That made him sad. After all that had happened, Jim wondered if he would ever see Sadie again. He turned on his Kindle Fire. The Bible App booted up and opened to its last set bookmark:
>
Trust in the Lord with all your heart … in all your ways submit to him,
And he will make your paths straight.
“I do trust you,” he murmured glancing at the sunrise. “Thank you for reminding me.”
The sound of an outboard motor broke Jim’s concentration. He glanced at the channel entrance and watched a vessel slide into the harbor. The boat motored past the fuel dock, and then slowed and bumped up gently against West Dock. Rico jumped off. “If I never have to ride on one of these stupid things again, it’ll be too soon.” A moment later, he climbed aboard Shoal Survivor. “Good to see you in one piece, bud.”
“Same here. You got banged up, too. How’s the tooth?”
Rico grinned to reveal a full set of white teeth, sans one. “I’ll get it fixed one day. Doc’s more worried about my cheekbone. That shovel cracked it from top to bottom.”
“What shovel?”
“Long story.”
“Rico, I heard about Jimmy. I’m sorry, man. I feel partially responsible.”
“Jimmy knew what he was doing. You couldn’t have stopped him from going after that maniac. Besides, he’s one tough renegade, that one. He’s already itching to get back to work.”
“Does he know about Melanie yet?”
“Not yet. Shame, too. They would’ve made a nice couple. What about Val? You see her at the funeral?
“She wasn’t even cordial, Rico. But I can’t blame her. We were moving in different directions. Hey, want some coffee, man? It’s fresh.”
“No, thanks. Heading out to arrest Mac Canaday. Hiding out at the old family farm. Just came by to check on you, bud, and to give you this.” Rico handed Jim a small metal object wrapped in a towel. “Found it in the woods the other night after you left for the hospital.”
Jim unwound the fabric and immediately felt a smile form on his face. A clean, black, Al Mar SERE 2000 tactical knife gleamed in his hand. He flicked open the blade, tested it with his thumb, and then with a grin and a grateful nod glanced at Rico. “My friend, you have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
“My pleasure. I know what that knife means to you. Here,” Rico said handing him his Browning and a fresh box of ammo. “Strong’s been holding this for you.”
“Rico, I got one question for you, man. About that affair in the woods … how’d your sniper know we were there? Barnes, right? He got there before any of you guys. Where’d he come from?”
“Ask him yourself. That’s him in the boat. C’mon.”
Jim followed Rico to the end of the dock. Two police officers sat on the cushioned seats chatting. Both wore civilian clothes and hefted side arms. Both jumped up and climbed onto the dock without prompting. Jim stood beside Rico without speaking. He felt like a kid meeting two superheroes. “Jim Stockbridge,” Rico said. “Meet two of my finest Knights … Gunslinger and the Ghost.”
Jim turned to the closest man. The Ghost was bigger than he had remembered, large framed with short blond hair, hawkish baby-blue eyes, and a face with the lines of chiseled granite. His right cheek donned a white bandage, his chin an unhealed burn. In a police T-shirt that bulged around his biceps and chest he reminded Jim of Ivan Drago from Rocky IV, only with sadder eyes. He had what looked like a permanent frown etched into his face. In a way, Jim felt as if he was looking at a god, but at the same time he sensed grief. Somehow he felt sorry for him. “I didn’t recognize you out of your tacticals. You must be Sergeant Barnes.”
“Please, Jim, call me Tony.”
“Where’d you learn to shoot like that, Tony?”
“It’s what we do. I wanted to apologize for the thumb. I had no choice but to shoot the cuffs.”
“The thumb will heal. I’d be a crispy critter right now if it weren’t for you. Still, though, I don’t understand how you knew we were there. You had to have been in the trees waiting before we even got there.”
“I have my sources.” Barnes grinned and glanced at Rico. “Believe it or not, there’s still a few good folks left in the Klan.”
Jim turned to the other cop. Eric Strong reminded him of Italian Mafia. His black hair and goatee sparkled, peppered with a small amount of gray that whispered of street-bought wisdom. His brown eyes looked hopeful and proud. His grin warmed the morning sun. “You must be Gunslinger.”
“Eric Strong.”
“I’m proud to meet you. If it weren’t for you, I never would’ve gotten that adrenalin to Sadie in time.”
“Like Barnes said, sir, it’s what we do.”
“I’ve never seen shooting like that.” Jim shook Strong’s hand and then turned back to Barnes and shook his. “Thank you. Both.”
“All right,” Rico said slapping Barnes on the back. “Get me out of here, Ghost. We got a suspect to arrest.” Rico climbed into the boat and pulled on a life jacket. Barnes turned the ignition key and the engines roared. Jim grabbed the bowline and held it tight.
“Rico, before you leave—” Jim felt a knot form in his throat. He tried his best to swallow it, but it wouldn’t move. “You’re my best friend.” Rico sighed and nodded without speaking. Jim felt certain he saw the tough cop’s eyes begin to water. He tossed him the bowline and added, “Thanks for always being there for me.”
“Just watch your butt, sport. Keeping you alive is becoming a full-time job.”
Barnes pulled away from the dock, motored slowly across the harbor into the channel, and hit the gas. The Cobia raised its nose, sped into the channel, and then quickly disappeared across the bay.
Jim turned around and glanced at Novel Idea. He heard movement, saw the boat rock, and then watched as the hatch cover slowly opened. He felt his pulse rate jump. He gave himself a quick once-over: sniffed his shirt—fresh … looked at his shorts—clean … glanced at his cast and wiggled his thumb—pain. He felt like an adolescent boy prepping for a first date. He wanted to look right, just in case, after all, in reality, he had only just met the girl in slip #23 a few days before, so for all practical purposes they were still strangers. Suddenly a sleepy looking Sadie Miller appeared at the top of her companionway. Her cast looked even whiter than his. Her hair, he thought, was a cute tangled mess. She sat down in the cockpit with her laptop and started tapping one-handed on the keys. Jim grabbed his coffee mug and walked over.
“I don’t suppose you even want to see me.”
“Not like this,” she said. “I just woke up.”
“You look perfect.”
“Right. When’d you get back?”
“Late last night. I decided to sleep on the boat. Something about a bomb in my house made it sound better.”
“How was the funeral?”
“Hard.”
“And Valerie?”
“Cold.”
“She’s been through a lot.”
“So have I. How have you been, Sadie?”
“Well—” Sadie glanced at her arm. “The burns hurt worse than the arm, and I’ve got a bruise the size of a fist on my left hip.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” Sadie sighed. “I’m having trouble sleeping, Jim. My ADD is so bad I can hardly write. What about you? Any white clouds?”
“Not since the woods. I quit taking those blasted meds. I pity that guy, having to figure out my head.” Jim pointed at the sign. “When did this go up?”
“Yesterday. The realtor already has a potential buyer. Can you believe that? I owned this boat for two whole weeks.”
“Sadie—” Jim sighed. He felt his heart sinking. He had the feeling Novel Idea wouldn’t be the only thing leaving Pair-A-Docks soon. This beautiful little vixen he had become so attracted to, like everything else good about his life, would soon be leaving. So when he said, “I’m really sorry,” he really meant it.
“Don’t be,” she responded. “It’s just a boat. In fact, I’m almost relieved to be out from under that silly editor’s thumb. Besides—” Sadie closed her laptop and stood. “We’ve still got Shoal Survivor. Speaking of which, we’ve
got our work cut out for us. Have you seen that mess?” Sadie climbed off her yacht, walked past him, and stepped onto Shoal Survivor. “It looks like someone fired a shotgun into your cockpit seat.”
Jim chuckled. “Someone did.”
“Can we fix it?”
“We?” Jim looked at Sadie intrigued by her adventurous spirit. “You bet we can.”
“Okay then. Hey, you got any more of that coffee? I haven’t had my fix yet.”
“Help yourself. It’s in the galley. Cups above the sink.”
Sadie stepped below. Jim turned his attention to the splintered fiberglass on the starboard side of the cockpit. The repair would be costly and tedious. He spotted a gray pellet wedged into the wood and pried it out. He held it up to his eye and a cascade of memories flashed through his mind—all bad. He pictured Melanie lying faceless on the street, the strange white masks of the killers, and the horrible gunshot to Devon’s face. He thought of Valerie, of Evan’s betrayal, the terrible fight in the woods, and Sadie’s battle against death. And then his mind wandered back … to an early morning wreck so many years before … a terrible tragedy that had changed so many people’s lives. He felt himself shudder, his right side quivered to the spine, but remarkably he saw no white cloud. He closed his eyes and murmured a silent prayer of thanks.
Sadie reappeared and sat down with a steaming cup in her hand. She reached for his Kindle and turned it on. He saw her eyes widen. “YouVersion? Jim, you’re reading the Bible?”
“Well, I…”
“I thought you didn’t trust God. What’s this scripture you have highlighted? Trust in the Lord with all your heart … so, you do believe?”
“Sadie, let’s just say, I’m learning.”
“Me too. C’mon,” she said setting down the Kindle and tilting her head toward town. “Let’s take a walk. I need to stretch my legs, and we have a lot to talk about. We hardly even know each other.”
Paramedic Killer Page 23
