by D. V. Berkom
The hair on Cory's head stood on end. A chill spiraled down his back when he realized there was a splotch of what looked like blood on the man's cheek.
***
Leine slid her semi-automatic out from under the seat and turned a slow three-sixty, searching the places a man could hide within shooting range. Two spindly, scrub oak trees surrounded by dry grass grew to her left. Next to them stood a mound of dirt supporting a couple of busted wood pallets and an old couch with an ugly flower pattern missing its cushions. A few older homes slumped in the distance, semi-obscured in the brown smog created by the busy freeway nearby. Large power lines and poles slashed through the scene, breaking the monotony.
Of course, he might not be using a gun. It depended on who Eric decided to send after her. Could be a sniper, although if that were the case she'd be dead by now. She'd been exposed long enough for a clean shot.
She crouched behind her car, next to the back wheel well and scanned her surroundings. A shadow moved near one of the trees. Holding the gun with both hands she pivoted and aimed, waiting. A scrawny black and white cat sprang from the tall grass behind the oak, landing with deadly finality on an unsuspecting prey. The unlucky bird flapped its wings in panic several seconds, then stilled.
Leine did another sweep of the lot. Seeing nothing suspicious she relaxed her grip. She didn't see it coming. The sharp wire snaked around her throat, taking her by surprise. He must have moved while her attention was on the cat. She dropped the gun and it glanced off the roof of the car, clattering to the ground. She slid two fingers beneath the cool metal before her attacker twisted the cord tighter around her neck, attempting to crush her windpipe. Leine grappled with the chokehold, working to loosen his grip enough so she could take a breath.
Keeping one hand on the wire she let go with the other and rammed her elbow into his solar plexus. He grunted and his grip loosened, but only for a split-second—not long enough for Leine to break free. She jerked her head back and butted him in the face, then stomped on his instep. The garrote fell slack and she slipped free. Pivoting, she slammed the heel of her hand against the bridge of his nose, but he deflected the worst of it with his left hand and punched her hard in the stomach with his right. Leine doubled over in pain and tried to catch her breath when she saw the kick coming.
She dodged right and avoided a broken nose. As his foot overshot its mark, she grabbed it and used his own momentum to lift his leg and force him backward, off his feet.
He landed on his back with a thud. Leine sprinted toward the gun. It had fallen under the car, next to the back tire. Her attacker was on his feet in seconds and lunged for it at the same time. Leine lifted her knee and brought her foot down hard, delivering a sharp blow to his shin. She was rewarded by the sound of bone cracking. To his credit, the man barely grunted. Leine turned back toward the gun, but he wrapped his hand around her ankle and jerked her backwards.
Struggling to remain standing, Leine kicked at his face, but missed. She wrenched her foot free of her shoe and dove for the gun.
Even with a broken leg he was on his feet fast and reached it first. She grabbed the barrel and gave it a vicious twist. The gun came free in her hand and she wrapped her finger around the trigger.
The first shot didn’t lay him out, but the second one did. Leine backed away from him as he fell to his knees, then crumpled to the ground. The distant wail of sirens galvanized her into action and she was inside her car and leaving the scene in under a minute.
The burn phone beeped, telling her she'd missed a call. She rifled through her purse and found the phone. Leine hit speed dial and listened to Cory's message. She immediately called him back.
“Where are you? Gene's still not back—” Cory described the sounds he heard, confirming for Leine the shots fired. Then he told her about the man in the red Honda.
“Listen to me, Cory. You need to stay right where you are. I'll call Detective Jensen and explain about April being abducted, that we think she's being held in the basement of the house where you saw the red car come out of. When he gets there, show him which house it is and then follow his instructions to the letter. I'll be in touch.”
Leine ended the call and dialed Jensen's number.
CHAPTER 33
TWO PATROL CARS arrived at the house and parked on opposite sides of the street, several houses down from the address in question. Cory felt the muscles in his neck relax. He got out of his car and walked over to where the officers were getting ready to go in.
“I'm sure glad to see you guys.” Cory was surprised his voice sounded calm.
“Which one is it?” one of the officers asked. A large man with sandy colored hair, the name on his uniform read Blankenship.
Cory pointed at the white house.
“A guy left about forty-five minutes ago in a red Honda Civic and he hasn't come back yet. It looked like there was blood on his face. I wrote down the license plate number.”
“Was he alone or did he have someone in the car with him?”
“I didn't see anyone else, but I guess there could have been somebody in the trunk or on the floor of the backseat.”
“Detective Jensen said you heard gunshots. Anything else we should know?”
Cory shook his head. “No. Just the four shots. I thought it was some kids shooting off fireworks, not guns. I haven't seen Gene since I got back from the coffee place. He must have gone inside. I hope he's okay.”
“Who's Gene?” Blankenship stopped what he was doing and glanced at Cory.
“Gene Dorfenberger. The security guy on Serial Date,” Cory answered.
Blankenship inclined his chin. “Got it. Is he armed?”
“I don't know. His car's parked in front of mine. We were watching the block, hoping to see one of the women that works for the guy. Maybe even the guy.” Cory looked down the street in both directions. “Where's Detective Jensen?”
Another officer, a smaller man with dark hair, answered. “He and his partner are on their way. Takes a little longer from downtown.”
Cory could see they were busy, so he walked back to his car and slid into the front seat. He checked Leine's avatar. She was somewhere in South-Central L.A. He wondered why she wasn't back yet.
The cops stood in a huddle around one of the patrol cars. Cory watched as they moved toward the house. He craned his neck to see what they were doing, but after checking the front door and apparently finding it locked, they disappeared around the side of the house, out of his view.
***
Leine parked a secure distance from the warehouse address Azazel had given her. It was in a shitty section of South-Central L.A., among rows of other rundown warehouses. Razor wire topped the chain link fence surrounding the complex, and broken glass and litter filled the parking area.
She was early. He'd told her to be there at five. It was now four-thirty. An inversion layer had created a smoggy, gritty summer day, the kind Leine loathed. Her skin and hair felt as though there was a layer of grime between her and the world, her eyes burned and the air was difficult to breathe. As soon as this is over, she thought, I'm heading back to Seattle where the atmosphere doesn't resemble the inside of a tailpipe.
Her call to Jensen went well, although his voice sounded too cool, distant. She assumed he was still pissed because she left his apartment without leaving a note. If she'd been thinking straight, she would at least have written a quick thank you for the ride to his place to sleep off the evening. When she explained about April being abducted she didn't go into how long she'd been missing. She described the box she received with the finger, and Gene's delivery, and Sissy Nelson's subsequent identification. She also mentioned Peter might know more than he was letting on. Once she was certain April was safe, she'd explain everything.
When Azazel told her what his last task entailed, Leine knew as soon as they confirmed the house where April was being held it'd be all right to call Jensen, let the police do what they did best. Especially when she realized Azazel wouldn'
t be near the house for a few hours. What she planned carried risk, but with April secure she'd be free to act. She'd told Cory to call her when April was safe.
She got out of her car and shrugged on the small backpack lying on her passenger seat. Out of habit, she locked the doors. Wishful thinking, she thought. In this neighborhood, she'd be lucky to have any wheels left when she came back.
Leine started off at a brisk pace toward the warehouse.
Time to finish this.
CHAPTER 34
THE SCENE THAT greeted Jensen and Putnam as they turned onto the residential street was one of multiple patrol cars and an ambulance. Several curious onlookers lined the sidewalk across from the house. A kid with hipster glasses stood near one of the patrol cars, watching everything. Must be Cory, Jensen thought. He and Putnam got out of their vehicle and split off; Jensen walked toward the kid and Putnam went over to talk to the paramedics, who had just wheeled a body out on a gurney.
“You Cory?” Jensen asked. Cory dragged his attention away from the scene.
“Yeah. Detective Jensen?”
When Jensen nodded, Cory smiled, looking relieved. His face was blanched white, quite a contrast with his black glasses.
“Am I glad to see you. Leine said she'd call you.” Cory eyed the gurney with the covered body. “I hope that's not April.” His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. He looked ready to cry. “Did you hear if they found her?”
“None of the victims match her description, so no, I don't think so. Where's Leine?” Jensen asked, changing the subject. She hadn't said anything about not being there. Where the hell is she? It's her daughter, for chissakes.
“She said she had something important to do first, but that she'd be here after.” A worried expression crossed Cory's face. “She said if she hadn't made it back by dinner to come looking for her. She's got her GPS turned on and gave me the password so I could track it. Want me to get the computer and show you?”
“That would be helpful, yeah.”
Cory walked to his car, leaned in the window and grabbed the tablet. He came back and set it on the hood of the squad car. “The link's on her desktop,” he explained as he tapped the screen and brought up the program showing Leine's blinking avatar. Jensen leaned closer to get a better look.
“What the hell is she doing in that part of town?”
“She didn't say.” Cory glanced back at the house. “Gene still hasn't come out. Do you think he's all right?”
“Gene?”
“The security guy on the show. We were watching the street. I went for coffee and he disappeared.”
Just then, the paramedics wheeled out another gurney carrying a dark skinned male. Still alive, judging by the oxygen mask.
“That's Gene.” He turned to Jensen, his eyes wide. “Can I go talk to him?”
“Not right now, Cory. Let me do the talking, okay?” Jensen walked to where the medic was getting ready to slide the gurney into the ambulance. Cory followed at a distance.
As Jensen approached, Gene turned his head, but couldn't speak through the oxygen mask. His clothes were bloody and he had bandages on both his chest and right shoulder.
Chang, one of the patrol officers, came over and stood next to Jensen, out of Cory's hearing.
“Bullet wounds in the chest and shoulder. He's lucky. He might actually make it.” Chang looked back toward the house. “Luckier than the other two.” His mouth pulled down at the corners. “We found some weird shit inside the house.”
Jensen glanced at Cory. “Can we make sure Cory here gets down to the station to give his statement?”
Chang nodded. “Yeah. Monroe's right over there. She wasn't here for the search.” He waved her over.
Jensen introduced them. “This is Officer Monroe. She'll bring you down to the station to take your statement and then you can go.” He gestured toward the tablet Cory still held in his hands. “I'd like to have the computer, in case we have to track Leine.”
“Yeah, sure.” Cory handed the tablet to him and started to leave, but hesitated and turned back. “April's going to be okay, right?”
“We're going to do everything we can.”
“Leine told me to call her when she was safe.”
“No problem. I've got her number,” Jensen assured him.
Worry still evident on his face, Cory nodded and followed Monroe to the patrol car.
Jensen turned back to Chang. “What'd you guys find?”
Chang shook his head. “Photographs of young adult females tacked all over the guy's bedroom wall. Blankenship swears one of them is that contestant who got killed, Amanda Milton. But that's not the weirdest thing. There were packages in the freezer with names on the labels.”
“What's weird about that?”
“Names, like people's names, and words like 'thigh' and 'buttock'.” Chang shuddered. “There was a huge dog kennel in the basement with evidence they were keeping someone in there. We found chains attached to a bloody wall, medical equipment, all sorts of shit.”
“But no other bodies than the two women?”
“No.”
The medic began to slide Gene into the ambulance.
“Thanks, Jeff,” Jensen said to Chang. “I need to see if this guy has any information.”
“I'll be over there if you need me.” Chang headed for his squad car.
Jensen stepped closer to the gurney and tapped Gene's shoulder. Gene's eyes opened a slit, then wider. He lifted his hand toward him, but let it drop, as though the gesture was too much effort. Jensen turned to the medic.
“Can you take off his mask for a minute? I think he's trying to tell me something.”
The medic gently removed the mask. Gene licked his lips and took a shallow breath.
“Gene, it's me, Detective Jensen, remember? The murder case on the show?”
Gene tried to raise his head from the pillow, but it proved to be too much and he collapsed back.
“H-he's gone…took her…” he whispered in a raspy voice. He fell silent, unable to continue.
“Take it easy, Gene. You mean the guy we're looking for?”
Gene nodded once and closed his eyes.
“Who'd he take? April? Someone else?”
When he didn't answer, Jensen tapped his leg, trying to rouse him but Gene was out cold.
The medic replaced the mask and loaded him into the ambulance. Putnam came around the back and pulled Jensen aside.
“Two dead females and the security guy. No sign of Basso's daughter. There's enough evidence in there to put the guy on death row. Where the hell would this freak go next?”
Jensen showed the tablet to Putnam.
“I think I have an idea.”
CHAPTER 35
LEINE MOVED QUICKLY around the side of the warehouse, mentally checking off escape routes in case things went south. Azazel would be expecting her to try something. He'd probably be disappointed if she didn't. It was up to her to figure out what kind of surprises he had in store.
She came around to the front and moved to the main door of the warehouse where she tried the handle. It was unlocked. He's making things easy, she thought. She opened the door a few inches. The place was dark so she strapped on the night vision monocle and checked to make sure no one was around before she walked in.
The warehouse had fallen into disrepair, evidently unused for several years. The cavernous loading bay stood empty, as though waiting for a ghost shipment that would never arrive. Despite the sweltering temperature outside, inside it was cool and not unpleasant. To her left was another empty loading bay leading to a dark corridor. She proceeded deeper into the structure, following the hallway.
After a few yards, she came to another corridor that branched off to the left of the main passageway. The faint strain of a melody floated toward her from further down the main branch. She chose to follow it, intending to return and check out the other one later. The music grew louder as she walked.
He's here already.
By the time she'd gotten close enough to identify the music as a piece by Vivaldi, she noticed a glow directly in front of her. She removed the night vision monocle and placed it in her pocket, then moved along the corridor and stepped into a dimly-lit room.
Before her stood a large, four-poster bed draped in lush fabrics; deep velvet blues and purples, shining silks and damasks, with several pillows piled at the head. The lighting was something out of a period piece, moody and dramatic, similar to that given off by gas lamps. Rich rugs carpeted the floor. Smoke from an incense burner sitting on a table next to the bed wafted upward. Dozens of long-stemmed, red roses stood in elegant vases dotting the room. The word sultan came to mind.
Four professional looking dolly-mounted cameras had been placed equal distances apart around the perimeter of the room, similar to the ones used on the set of Serial Date. A boom mic had been rigged to hang a few feet above the bed. He's created his own studio.
Leine slid her hand over the gun hidden in her waistband and pulled it free. She'd been in some interesting places before, but knowing this was all for her made everything surreal. The epic music ebbed and flowed in graceful, tension-filled crescendos followed by hurtling collapse, lifting once again to the pinnacle of the masterpiece, relentless in its quest for release.
She remained in the shadows and continued through the ersatz boudoir, searching for the man she would kill. Her senses sharpened, she'd reverted to her default when hunting a target; aware of every nuance and sound, possessed by a single-minded intensity.
She allowed the rage she'd been suppressing to build inside her, a match for the vivid soundtrack Azazel had chosen. Clearly, as he and Eric had both stated with such certainty—she was one of them—a killer. She would no longer fight it. Once she knew April was safe and Azazel was dead, she'd return to what she did best and make no excuses for it, although not for Eric. There were many such agencies in need of her expertise. The choice required a solitary existence, but Leine had learned to live without love.
