by T. R. Ragan
“We’ll have to do this without her,” Hayley said. “Besides, she’s still healing. It’s better this way.”
CHAPTER 63
Kitally pulled onto a dirt road. It was muddy from recent rains and there was no way she was going to get very far in her dad’s Ferrari. She pulled over, shut off the engine, grabbed her phone and her bag, and headed off. At speeds close to a hundred mph, it had taken her more than thirty minutes to arrive.
Glad she had opted to wear boots instead of heels today, she followed the GPS tracker, which told her she didn’t have far to go. The signal was strong enough that she knew Lizzy couldn’t be too far ahead. She had called Lizzy’s phone dozens of times, to no avail. All movement on the tracker had stopped a while ago. Lizzy had arrived at her destination, wherever the hell that was.
What was going on?
Kitally couldn’t think of one good reason Lizzy would come to the woods . . . especially alone.
Unease crept up her spine as she followed the tire marks. If Lizzy was following someone, why wouldn’t she have called or at least answered her phone? Worry quickened Kitally’s pace. She started to run. It wasn’t long before she found a Nissan parked to the side of a dirt road. The trunk was open. The GPS signal led her right to Lizzy’s purse inside the trunk.
Someone had Lizzy.
Kitally walked around the area, peering into the trees. All she saw were shadows as the tree branches moved and danced with every breeze. Frogs croaked in the distance. Dead leaves covered the ground and that’s when she realized she could make out footprints in the beaten-down leaves. There were footprints . . .
The trail led her to a muddied pit. Another area ten feet away looked as if it had been covered up recently. There was a strange smell in the air. Definitely funky.
Once again, Kitally examined the ground for any sign that might give her a clue about which way they had gone. It didn’t take her too long to find tracks. But it was getting darker by the minute, and she didn’t know how much longer she would be able to see where she was going.
Kitally put her phone in her back pocket and then pulled out her machete. Leaving everything else behind, she took off through the trees and brush.
CHAPTER 64
After talking Debra Westlake down, convincing her to put her gun away and go home, Madeline realized it was time to leave town. She would go to San Francisco and stay with her brother for a while, lie low and decide what to do next. She no longer had a job. Her reputation had been severely damaged. Until the police found Chris Porter and David Westlake, all eyes would be focused on her.
She went upstairs and checked phone messages. Two missed calls from Lizzy, who was hopeful she had found their man. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she prayed it was true. She reached into her purse and pulled out the driver’s license she’d found on her passenger seat two days ago: it belonged to Megan Vos. This man, whoever he was, had killed Chris Porter, David Westlake, Amber Olinger, Megan, and maybe even Cindy. He was doing his best to point all evidence her way. He was getting away with murder. She wanted to take the ID to Detective Chase, but she was afraid he would lock her up for good. The media still came around every once in a while. They stood on her front lawn and waited for her to make an appearance.
She looked around her. Her actions truly had caused all of this craziness. What had she done? Tears flooded forth. She cried for her friends, for all the lies she’d told, for the person she’d become.
After a while, she went to the bathroom and washed her face.
When she returned to the bedroom, every sound, every creak caused her to jump. Making quick work of packing, she tossed in a few changes of outfits and her toiletries and headed downstairs. Before she could make it to the door, there was a knock.
Taking quiet steps, she left her suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and tiptoed toward the door so she could look through the peephole. Her body relaxed the moment she recognized the nurse from the hospital, the odd, intense one with the streak of white hair. The woman was alone.
Madeline opened the door.
“Hello, Dr. Blair. I don’t know if you remember me—I’m Janelle, head nurse from the hospital. Is this a bad time?”
Madeline noticed her stethoscope hanging around her neck. She wore a white lab coat over her blue scrubs. “I do remember you, but I am in a bit of a hurry.”
“It’s standard procedure that we check up on our patients, you know, a follow-up on all assault cases. I don’t live too far from here, so I thought I would drop by, get your blood pressure and check your heart. After that I can sign off on these papers and wrap this up.”
The last thing Madeline wanted to do right now was spend time taking her vitals. “Maybe some other time. I’m going to visit my brother and he’s expecting me.”
Janelle held up her little black bag. “It will only take a moment of your time. If we don’t take care of this now, the rape crisis center will badger you until they get this taken care of.”
“It will only take a minute?”
“I promise,” the woman said as she stepped inside and shut the door behind her.
Flustered, Madeline pulled the strap of her purse off her shoulder and set it next to the bag she’d packed at the bottom of the stairs. “Where should we do this?”
“Why don’t you just take a seat right there at the dining room table?”
Madeline turned one of the dining room chairs outward away from the table so that the nurse could examine her.
She watched the woman set her black bag on the table, open it, and then slide on a pair of latex gloves. After Madeline took a seat, the nurse asked Madeline to raise her arm and pull up her sleeve so she could take her blood pressure. A moment passed before the woman said, “One twenty over eighty. Looks good. Have you been feeling any anxiety?”
“Definitely,” Madeline said. “It’s been a very stressful time.”
The nurse unhooked her stethoscope from around her neck. “It’s going to feel a little cold. Do you mind unbuttoning the top buttons of your sweater?”
Madeline sighed. She did mind, but she wanted to get this over with. “There,” she said, holding open her sweater. “I really don’t know why this is necessary.” Perspiration covered her brow. The stress was getting to her.
The nurse placed the cold metal disc on Madeline’s chest and listened. “Breathe in. Good. Now breathe out. Perfect. Almost done.”
Thank God.
Behind her, Madeline heard the nurse shuffling through her bag.
Wondering what was taking so long, she looked over her shoulder and saw the nurse writing down some numbers.
Madeline’s heart raced as she closed her eyes and tried to stay calm. She needed to get out of this house, out of this town. She’d made so many mistakes in her life, but she was ready to make amends and set things straight. Debra had been right when she told her she was self-absorbed. Madeline couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent any quality time with her sister or brother. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d called her parents, who lived only thirty minutes away. It was time to reach out to her friends and family. Going to San Francisco and staying with her brother for a while would do her a world of good.
“This is for you, Seth.”
Madeline wondered what the nurse was talking about. But then she felt a sharp sting. She reached her hand over her shoulder, felt something sticking out of her neck and yanked it out.
An empty syringe.
She looked up from the syringe to the nurse, watched her quietly pack up her things.
“We’re all done here,” the nurse said as she moved to stand in front of Madeline.
Madeline’s hands felt numb. She wanted to ask her about the syringe, but she couldn’t find her voice. The needle dropped to the floor.
The woman, still wearing gloves, picked it up and dropped it into her b
ag. “You should feel a tingling sensation in your limbs. And then your tongue will start to feel thick. In a few moments, you might find it difficult to swallow, but don’t worry, you won’t feel any pain. It’ll be like you just fell asleep. The only difference being that you’ll never wake up.”
Madeline reached out and grabbed a fistful of the woman’s suit jacket. The nurse wasn’t worried. She didn’t budge. She just stood there watching and waiting until Madeline crumpled to the floor.
CHAPTER 65
Hayley stopped the car and turned off the engine and the headlights. It had been a long day. She looked at Tommy. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Funny,” he said. “I was going to tell you the same thing.”
“But I do have to do this and you know it.”
“If we call the police, they’ll put him behind bars.”
“For how long? Criminals are being let out of jails across the country as we speak. You don’t need to come with me, Tommy. Take the fucking car and go. I never asked for your help. And just so we’re square and you know where my head’s at—there will be no parole for Brian Rosie.”
“You’re going to be judge, jury, and executioner, is that it?”
“Yes, that’s right. That’s how it’s going down.”
Hayley climbed out of the car. A sharp intake of breath was followed by goose bumps. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine. They were in Placerville, in the Sierra Nevada foothills. The car was well hidden within a thicket of underwood and small trees.
She sucked in a lungful of fresh air. Tonight was the night . . . a long time in coming.
She opened the trunk and began to strap on her load-bearing suspenders. The harness had a magazine pouch on one side and a holster on the other. After adjustments were made, she slipped on a lightweight chest rig with three front pouches and began the process of loading up on ammunition.
She didn’t know if she would live to see another day, but her mind was set on what needed to be done. She was focused. She’d been waiting for this day for a very long time. Although she had hoped Wolf would show up, since they could use some help, it would be too risky to hold off for another twenty-four hours. Brian could find another hideout by then.
Tommy climbed out and began strapping knives to his legs. After outfitting himself with a lightweight bulletproof vest, he clamped a nightstick to his waistband.
They both had gloves, footwear, and headgear—all lightweight, all black. They each had a Taser holster connected to a detachable belt loop.
“This isn’t about revenge,” Hayley said, breaking the silence as she worked. “I’m not trying to change the past.”
He said nothing, just kept putting on gear.
“This isn’t about restoring dignity and pride,” she went on as she filled a front pouch.
Tommy had spent time earlier preparing his gear. He was ready to go. He shut the car door, then made his way around to where she stood. “Who are you trying to convince?”
She yanked her straps tight.
“You can stop with the self-righteous bullshit,” he told her. “It doesn’t become you.”
She grunted.
“I’m not going in there for you,” he said. “I’m doing this for me, OK?”
“OK,” she said. She shut the door. “Let’s do this.”
But he was already three feet ahead, blending into the night.
CHAPTER 66
Kitally wanted to shout out to Lizzy, but if Lizzy was in a safe hiding place, it wouldn’t do any good to alert whoever had her. She had no choice but to make some noise as she moved through the brush, using the machete to chop her way through branches and scrub brush. Her face was numb from the cold as she continued on. The snap of a branch when she paused alerted her to the fact that somebody was close by. She stayed frozen and listened.
Somebody was running.
Was it Lizzy?
Following the sounds of crunching leaves, Kitally broke through the dense scrub and into a clearing. As she ran, hoping she was going in the right direction, pain shot through her leg where she’d been kicked a few weeks ago. No wonder Jessica had quit working for Lizzy. Kitally liked excitement and adventure more than most, but this was ridiculous.
Again, the loud snap of a branch caused Kitally to stop and listen.
The footfalls and crunching of leaves sounded as if more than one person was running through the woods. What was going on? Damn it, Lizzy, where are you?
She took off again, ran as fast as she could in the direction of the snapping twigs and crunching leaves. She ran so fast she didn’t see the dark shadow step out from behind a tree. She rammed into a solid chest. Her machete flew from her hands and she hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from her lungs.
Before she could get to her feet, a man hovered over her, a knife in his hand.
He lunged. She rolled to her right, stabbed the heel of her boot into his side.
He grunted, then pulled the knife from the dirt and came at her again. With gravity on her side, Kitally rolled down a muddied slope and then jumped to her feet and quickly scoured the grounds for her machete.
Knuckles cracked and popped—an eerie sound coming out of the dark forest. As if he had all the time in the world, he began to walk down the hill after her. About to take off again, she stopped when she heard Lizzy’s voice.
“Leave her alone, asshole!”
His knife was pointed straight ahead, the blade glimmering in the night. He didn’t bother turning around or even looking over his shoulder.
“Why did you kill all of those people?” Lizzy asked, her legs wobbling as she stumbled after the crazy man.
Lizzy was obviously trying to distract the man, but it wasn’t working. It was also easy to see that Lizzy had been drugged.
“Run! Get out of here,” Kitally shouted.
“You know the answer to your question,” the man answered Lizzy as he continued down the slope toward Kitally. “Madeline needed to be punished for betraying her listeners,” he said. “You can’t save her now.”
Kitally didn’t know what to do. She had nothing. Or did she? She pulled out her cell phone from her back pocket and pushed the alarm application. Sirens sounded.
He didn’t care, didn’t even flinch. As she watched, his face distorted into a mask of rage and then he flew at her.
Kitally had no time to run, but as she readied to strike, she saw Lizzy careen down the slope toward the man like a banshee from hell, leaping on his back like a lioness going for the kill, screaming as she clawed at his face.
He staggered but kept his feet and hacked at Lizzy’s left arm with his knife.
Kitally drove a high kick into his groin, crumpling him for an instant before he recovered enough to curse and twirl in circles, throwing Lizzy off his back and onto the ground.
Kitally kept on him. She threw an elbow into his ribs followed by a snap kick to his side. She didn’t let up: a kick to his leg, a slap to his face, lunge and punch, all while ducking and sidestepping his mad swipes with the knife.
Finally he threw himself at Kitally and took her to the ground with him.
Kitally raked her nails across his face and then twisted, ate dirt as she struggled to pull herself out from under his substantial weight. Her hand fell on a branch and she grabbed it and whirled and clubbed him on the head with it. He cried out as Kitally vaulted to her feet again, adrenaline soaring.
The man was back on his feet, too. Shit. This guy was making up in crazy whatever he lacked in fighting skills.
Swinging the branch back and forth before her, Kitally took a small step backward for every step he took forward. Behind the maniac, she saw Lizzy stagger to her feet, the machete clutched tightly in her right hand. Eyes wide, Kitally watched Lizzy take careful steps his way, then wind up and, using both arms now, stiff and strong, swi
ng the machete in a perfect arc through the night air, slicing the man’s head off with one powerful, sweeping blow.
He didn’t crumple to the ground. Instead, his headless torso remained rigid, arms to his side as he toppled to the earth at Kitally’s feet.
The head rolled down the hill past her. She heard a continuous thump, thump, thump, like a ball bouncing off the soft layer of leaves and then harder ground before the head finally rolled to a stop somewhere in the dark.
Silence.
Kitally stood there for a moment, taking it all in. A light breeze hit her face, turning the perspiration to ice. She looked at Lizzy and said, “Holy shit. That was fucking awesome.”
Lizzy sank to the ground.
“Come on,” Kitally said, taking the machete out of Lizzy’s hands and leaving it on the ground so she could help her to her feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
CHAPTER 67
Detective Chase pulled up to the curb in front of Seth and Janelle Brown’s house. Neither of these people had records; they were upstanding citizens. They paid their taxes and didn’t break the law. Together, Seth and Janelle Brown had spent years organizing blood drives in their community.
And yet here he was. One call from Lizzy Gardner and her friends from the FBI were all over his ass to check out the home belonging to Seth Brown.
If he had his way, he would be at Lizzy Gardner’s home, going through her things, seeing what the nosy private eye might be hiding, what sort of illegal deeds she was performing in order to obtain information. Because there was no way she could have found the person responsible for all the recent disappearing acts.
More frustrating was the fact that evidence against Madeline Blair continued to grow. Yesterday he’d received a recording of a woman’s voice pleading with Madeline to stop, begging for her life to be spared. He’d passed the evidence on to Sergeant Hollister, but had yet to receive permission to play the tape for the families of Amber Olinger and Megan Vos to see if they recognized the voice.
