“Where’s home, Tony?” Landry said.
“Chinatown.” Mace passed out a business card to each person. “The city maintains an empty office suite in a walk-up on Mott Street. It was a social services office before the layoffs.”
“Chinatown?” Willy said. “Parking’s going to be a bitch, T.”
“The Oh-Five precinct is two blocks away on Elizabeth. You can park there. We’ll meet at base camp tomorrow morning at 0900. That will give everyone time to go to the motor pool and sign out your vehicles. The good news is you can hang on to them until this assignment winds down.”
“What’s the bad news?” Candice said.
“Because we’re such a small unit, we’re going to be on call 24/7.”
Willy blew air out of his cheeks. “Overtime?”
“Unlimited.”
“Dress code?”
“Office casual.”
Willy raised his mug. “Let’s go catch some werewolf killers.”
One by one, the others touched their mugs to his, Karol last.
Everyone makes it home, Mace thought.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Willy drove uptown with Karol beside him in his Accord.
“I can’t buy into any of this,” she said.
“That’s fine. You don’t have to. Maybe it’s better for your state of mind if you don’t. We’re after the people who killed Jason Lourdes and abducted Rhonda Wilson. You (don’t have to believe that Jason was a werewolf—and Rhonda might be too—to know that the perps are bad guys.”
“They also killed five animals,” Karol said. “Whatever they were.”
“Disregard the victims and focus on the perps.”
“You seem to have come around to this assignment.”
Willy shrugged. “We’re soldiers, and the generals tell us where to go. I’d rather be working under Tony than Aiello on something like this. Tone’s already shown that he watches the backs of his people. He’s not afraid to throw himself on his sword, so to speak.”
“How can you follow someone who believes in fairy tales?”
“I guess because I believe in them too. But if you can’t, you should get out now. You should anyway.”
“Back to that. Are you afraid I can’t pull my weight? Or do you think I’ll be a liability because I don’t share your willing suspension of disbelief?”
Willy stopped at Karol’s building on Pelham Parkway. A pair of lanky teenage boys stood on the stoop, chatting in a casual manner. Shifting the car into Park, he faced her. “Let me show you something.” Taking out his wallet, he removed a photo of a woman with red hair. “That’s Patty.”
Karol studied the photo, then looked up at Willy. “I’ve asked you about her a lot of times, and you’ve never shared anything.”
He stuck the photo back into his wallet. “Some wounds run too deep.” He looked ahead at the passing traffic. “Every day we live with the fear that this could be the day we catch a bullet. Even if it’s just a quiet voice in the back of our head, it’s still there.”
“I try not to think about it. Live for today, not tomorrow.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not that easy. Not when you’ve lost a partner. I don’t just worry about myself; I worry about you too.”
“Look at me.”
He did.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“That’s what Patty thought, and she was one tough lady.”
“So am I. I didn’t make it into Homicide by being soft.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. Patty was pretty new to the unit too. Because she was a woman, she knew she had to be tougher than the men around her, and she was. Tougher than me, that’s for sure. That made her take unnecessary risks. She always wanted to be the first one out of the car and the first one through the door. Not to get the collar but to prove she deserved to be a murder police.”
“Then that’s one difference between us. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone. I don’t feel I have to be tougher than the guys, either.”
“It was the luck of the draw. Patty answered the phone, so it became her case. And there was no telling her what to do on her first big case. Me and Mace were in a surveillance vehicle when Janus Farel killed her. We had to listen to the sounds of him tearing her apart. It was the worst thing I’ve ever heard. Patty’s car crashed into the Astor Place cube, and when we got there the whole area was pandemonium. Cars honking, traffic jammed, people running around like in one of those Japanese giant monster flicks. We had to leave our vehicle and run to the crime scene. Tony got there first. The driver’s side door was on the ground. Patty’s remains were inside. Blood was everywhere. I’ll never forget that sight as long as I live.”
Karol touched his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I was pissed when Tony pulled me off the case until I realized he was enabling me to work it from inside the squad. Then he got suspended and I was shut out. All I wanted was to get out of Homicide when I scored high enough for a promotion, but then the freeze came down. I was the next man in line, so Aiello and Landry put me in charge of training. That kind of responsibility was the last thing I wanted.”
“You still could have asked for a transfer.”
“That isn’t how it works. As a lieutenant, I would have been transferred to another unit. If I wanted it to be a good one, I had to stay put and not look like a flake. That’s what it all comes down to: covering your ass and playing the game. It’s a fucked-up system.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re my trainer.”
Willy drew in his breath. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I promise not to take any big risks.”
“I care about you too much. I cared about Patty too but in a different way.”
“Different how?”
“We were partners …”
“We’re partners.”
He felt himself groping for words. “Yeah, I know. I just see you another way is all.”
The headlights of passing cars illuminated her brown eyes. A moment hung between them. Then Karol leaned forward, her lips stopping short of his.
“This better not be a play …”
“It isn’t.”
Before she could change her mind, he closed the distance between them and kissed her.
When Mace entered the second-floor apartment of his house, he found Cheryl sitting on the sofa, her ankles crossed on the coffee table with her laptop resting on her thighs, Sniper lying on the floor below. She had changed into black capris and a loose-fitting shirt, and she pecked at her keyboard while Manhattan Minute News played on TV with the volume low. An empty wineglass and a half-full bottle of Merlot stood on the glass table. She looked up at him, the TV images reflected in her glasses. Sitting beside her, Mace massaged her feet, and she laid her head back with a tired moan.
“How’s Patty?” Mace said.
“Sound asleep … finally. How was your day?”
“I’m not in the doghouse anymore.”
She raised her head. “So I gathered. What can you tell me?”
“Nothing. My assignment is a secret.”
“There are no secrets between husbands and their wives if they want to stay husbands and wives.”
“What happened to that professional understanding we had?”
“That was when you were in the doghouse and your secrets couldn’t interest me.”
Sitting back, Mace pulled her legs across his and nodded at the laptop. “What are you doing?”
“Reviewing old stories on the Manhattan Werewolf.” Her gaze held his.
“You could always just read Carl Rice’s book on the subject,” Mace said.
Reaching beside her, Cheryl raised a copy of The Wolf Is Loose: The True Story of the Manhattan Werewolf.
“You didn’t,” Mace said.
“Technically, Manhattan Minute News did.”
“It’s still money in Rice’s pocket.”
“He thinks the
Manhattan Werewolf is still out there.”
“He is, isn’t he? Unless he turned into a pumpkin.”
“Where will you be based?”
“At an undisclosed location.”
“What’s your rank?”
“I’m still a captain.”
“How many people will be calling you that?” Mace smiled. “Landry? Diega?” He held his smile.
“What will happen if I ask Public Information what you’re doing?”
“They’ll tell you I’m doing deep background research on some unclosed homicide cases.”
“Which could mean anything. How convenient.”
Mace spread his hands apart in a gesture of exaggerated helplessness.
Cheryl aimed a finger in his direction. “I’m coming after you.”
“I hear you’re pretty tough.”
Her voice turned serious. “How is this a good idea? What do you stand to gain if no one knows what you’re up to?”
“If I produce results, then I’ll wind up somewhere better than I was.”
“I thought you were looking forward to retiring.” He rubbed Sniper’s head with one foot. “I am. I’d just like to go out with a little respect.”
“What happens if they fuck you over?”
“Then it will be business as usual.”
Willy stood in Karol’s living room, surveying framed photos of Karol and her family. He didn’t wish to be nosey but found it difficult to shut down his detective’s habits.
The bathroom door opened, and Karol stood half silhouetted within the dingy light. As she stepped closer, he saw that she wore a satin nighty that clung to the curves of her small frame. Heat rose from his body, his gaze drawn to the light reflected in her dark eyes. She clicked off the lamp providing most of the illumination, then turned her back to him and entered the bedroom. Studying the slope of her slender neck and her firm ass, he followed her into the darkness.
Striking a match, Karol lit a medium-sized candle, its flickering flame highlighting her defined cheekbones in soft golden light. Willy gazed at her reflection in the mirror of her bureau, and when Karol looked at his reflection in return, she caressed her neck with one hand.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she said.
He nodded. “Oh, I’m very sure.”
“You’d better keep this between us.”
“Who would I tell?”
“I mean it. I won’t be known as a department slut. I’ve worked too hard to gain respect.”
“You’re my partner. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
“This will change our partnership.”
He knew she was right. “Now that my promotion’s come through, we won’t be partners for long.”
She circled her bed, her eyes never leaving his. Then, with slow movements, she crawled across the blankets like a jungle cat and lay on her back.
Willy stepped out of his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, then slid out of his slacks. He stood before Karol in a muscle shirt and boxer shorts.
She giggled. “Take those off, please.”
Breaking into a grin, Willy shed his undergarments and made a show of flexing his muscles.
Spreading her legs, Karol scraped the insides of her thighs with the tips of her fingernails.
Willy felt his smile fading, his desire for Karol overtaking him. With his erection stabbing the cold air, he climbed onto the bed and crossed it on his knees. Lying over Karol, he kissed her and tasted her tongue. She raised her knees, squeezing her legs against his hips and rocking against him. He felt her hands sliding over his back, her fingertips pressing against his flesh. He ran his own fingers over her head, his kisses matching hers in their hunger.
Karol nipped at his lower lip, and he pulled the straps of her nighty over her shoulders and forced it down to her waist, freeing her dark breasts. Karol hiked the nighty over her hips, allowing him access to the wetness between her legs. Groping for his hard organ, he pressed it against her slick spot and felt resistance. Pulling his mouth away from hers, he looked into her eyes with rising surprise. Her lips parted, revealing her white teeth.
Then Karol wrapped her arms around him, almost pinning his arms, and thrust herself against him, biting his shoulder as she took him inside her.
Rhonda regained consciousness with the pain of her teeth digging into the inside of her mouth. Opening her eyes, she focused on stone.
I’m lying facedown, she thought, turning her head so that her teeth released their hold on her torn, bleeding mouth. She bowed her head, taking the pressure off her nose and putting it on her forehead. A whimper escaped her lips as images cascaded through her brain: Jason’s head rolling across the floor of Synful Reading … peering at the leader of the Torquemadans, the bald-headed black man named Henri, and the woman with the blonde-streaked black hair … the men slashing her flesh with their scalpels …
Spreading her legs apart, she heard chain links clinking. They had moved her back to her cell. Saliva pooled on her tongue, and her scalp tingled.
What form am I in?
Throwing her left hand beside her shoulder, she turned her head to the right to gaze at her other hand and saw only straw on the floor. Swallowing, she brought her arm perpendicular with her other shoulder and glimpsed something white and gauzy with a red flower at its center. Tears blurred her vision even as she focused on the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around the stump of her human arm. The memory of Henri swinging the sword at her came roaring back.
They took my arm!
Rhonda trembled, and her tortured gasps produced bubbles of snot in her nostrils. She did not wish to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much they had hurt her, but each convulsive heave of her muscles produced a shuddering weep, until at last she threw back her head and unleashed a wail. “Bastards …”
She heard the familiar sound of the bolt sliding into place on the other side of the steel door, followed by the sound of the door swinging open, then footsteps. Closing her legs together, she looked over her shoulder at her tormentors. The woman gripped a tranq gun, but the leader, a bloody bandage covering his nose, was unarmed, his expression flat. Henri was nowhere to be seen. Curling her lips into a snarl, Rhonda tasted her own blood.
“The bitch is angry,” the leader said. “Like a wounded animal.”
Rhonda directed her glare at the woman, who said nothing. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”
“Do you think you’re in a position to give orders?” the leader said. “Henri may not be here, but I can hack off your other arm just as well as he could.”
Rhonda sucked on the cuts inside her mouth to keep from answering.
The leader gestured at her. “We bandaged your stump. Healing powers or no, you were bleeding profusely, and I didn’t want to take a chance on losing you.”
I wouldn’t have died, Rhonda thought. “What time is it?”
“You don’t need to know that. Remove the bandage.”
Studying each of their faces, she had no doubt they would continue to maim her if she resisted their instructions.
Give an inch, and they’ll take a foot, she told herself.
The monsters waited.
I have to save my strength. Appear to be broken. I can’t avenge Jason if I’m dead.
Using her elbow for balance, Rhonda sat up and swung her legs beneath her, protecting her private parts from their eyes. Raising the stump of her arm, she had no choice but to gaze at their brutal handiwork. With her remaining hand, she peeled back the adhesive tape that held the bandage to her and unwound it to the end, then discarded the bloody bandage and stared at the purplish flesh which tapered to a red seal. She closed her eyes, shutting out the image.
“Unbelievable,” the woman said.
“If only my wound could do the same,” the leader said. “Will your hand grow back?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Rhonda said. “If you live that long.”
“Aren’t you supposed to promise to let
me go if I tell you what you want to know?”
The woman looked at her leader, waiting for his answer.
“Human beings don’t make promises to animals. I’m sure you have no expectation that we’ll allow you to survive this ordeal. The best you can hope for is that we’ll show you mercy when we put you down like a dog.”
She refused to let her voice crack. “It’s too late for that.”
“You could provide us with the names we want, and as soon as we verify the identities of the creatures you point us toward, we’d put you out of your misery. Or you can persist as you have, and we’ll make your remaining life hell. You’ll pray that whatever manner of god you believe in ends your suffering.”
Rhonda stood erect, naked and proud. “My people don’t worship any gods but our ancestors. You can threaten me all you want … torture me … kill me. But I promise you, nothing you do to me will compare to what’s going to happen to you.” She glanced at the woman. “All of you.”
The woman swallowed, and Rhonda smelled her fear.
“My people do worship a god,” the leader said. “The one true God. My companions and I will gladly lay our lives down for Him. You’re descended from demons, not gods. The grandchildren of jackals are still jackals. There are all kinds of torture: physical, psychological, emotional, spiritual. The pain you feel in your arm now is nothing compared to what you’ll experience when your parents are dead.”
With rage blinding her judgment, Rhonda charged at the man, the chains snapping her back. “You leave my parents alone!”
The leader offered her a sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”
Changing, Rhonda howled in anguish.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Marshal Wilson exited the upstairs bathroom of his Bensonhurst home and joined his wife in their bedroom. They had both lived in Brooklyn their entire lives, and he felt comfortable living near the Eighteenth Avenue elevated train tracks. He closed the door, cutting off the muted sounds of the television downstairs. The last day and a half had been the worst he had ever endured.
The Frenzy War Page 13
