The Cure

by JG Faherty

  “Why didn’t you kill him?” Leah asked as they stepped around the bodies and headed for the door. “He would have killed both of us.”

  “If I’d thought that, he’d be dead right now. But he was bluffing.”

  “How could you know that?”

  John opened the door an inch, peered outside. “Because you’re no use to them dead, and you’re no use to them if I’m dead. C’mon, it’s clear.”

  They stepped out onto the loading dock and Leah saw the van was gone. “What do we do now?”

  With a tired smile, John pointed at the stairs. “First, we start walking. As soon as we find a phone, we’ll get ourselves a ride, and we’ll do what you should have done in the first place.”

  “And that is?”

  He gave her a look that was part joking and part serious. “Get the police involved. All of this could have been prevented if you’d just told me the whole story from the beginning.”

  Leah shook her head. “It would’ve meant telling the whole world about my secret. I couldn’t do that. I still can’t. If Tal or those other people get caught, their testimonies, the films, it’ll all end up as evidence and get made public.”

  John took her hand as they walked across the loading-dock parking lot. “Maybe, maybe not. The important thing is that you’ll still be alive, and the people who’re after you will be behind bars.”

  “You really think that would be the end of it? Look how much trouble I’ve caused with only a few people knowing. Now imagine if the whole world knew. How many people would be after me then? How many governments? I’d never be safe.”

  Leah pulled her hand away and rubbed tears from her eyes. He doesn’t understand. He can’t; no one can. I’d rather be dead than live my life on the run or like a lab animal.

  “Leah, I—”

  The sound of squealing tires interrupted John as a police car tore around the corner, lights flashing, and then skidded to a stop at the end of the lot. Two Hispanic officers, both of them in plain clothes and NYPD windbreakers, opened their doors and waved. The driver called to them.

  “Hurry up, you two. Nova’s men are on the way and we want you out of here before the shooting starts. Rapido!”

  John waved back and then took Leah’s hand again. “Let’s go. For once, it looks like something’s going our way.”

  Following John, Leah had to admit the sight of the police car was an unexpected comfort. Then thoughts of her secret getting out to the world returned.

  We’re safe now. But for how long?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Emilio Suarez shut the back door of the police cruiser and silently congratulated himself. He’d come up with the idea for stealing the car after learning that Nova had kidnapped the lady vet’s boyfriend, who was a local cop in her hometown.

  Who’s a cop gonna trust, no questions asked? A fellow cop! he’d thought, and, sure enough, the cabrón had gotten right into the car, smiling and saying thank you all the while. At least the lady had the brains to look nervous, even though she’d followed her boyfriend like a dog on a leash.

  As soon as Emilio climbed into the front passenger seat and shut his door, Hector Reyes, the man Emilio had chosen as his driver, put the car in gear and headed away from the warehouse as fast as possible.

  One thing Emilio hadn’t lied about was wanting to get them out of there before Nova returned. After watching Nova’s actions over the past few days, Emilio had decided the man was crazy. Bad enough to play God like the lady vet; Nova had gone past that, playing God and devil both.

  And who’s next on his list? Emilio wondered. Perhaps a man he hired to watch the vet? He’s probably forgotten about me for now, but he’ll remember soon enough. And when he does…

  It was that thought that had finally set Emilio in motion. Not only did he need to keep himself safe from Tal Nova, but he had to make sure Nova would think twice about coming after him at all. And there was only one thing that would scare the crazy mother that bad.

  Dr. Leah DeGarmo.

  Del McCormick pounded the steering wheel with his fist as he watched DeGarmo and her boyfriend get into the back of the cop car.

  How had things gone to shit so fast? Having Tal’s men show up was one thing—he’d planned for that possibility, and his men had reacted flawlessly. Getting shot? That was always a chance you took. Being saved by DeGarmo had been a bonus, but then she’d single-handedly fucked everything up, had turned out to be the one wild card he’d never expected. Who’d have thought she’d show such spunk, literally ignore her own safety just to save a guy she’d been dating for, what, a week?

  And then the police appeared out of nowhere…

  Wait a minute.

  Those cops. Something wasn’t right…

  Del replayed the scene in his mind. The cruiser pulling in, lights flashing. The cop herding DeGarmo and her boyfriend into the back and then driving off.

  Real cops wouldn’t have left the scene of a crime, especially not knowing whether DeGarmo and her boyfriend were suspects or victims.

  And since when did plainclothes cops ride in cruisers instead of their own unmarked vehicles?

  “Shit!” It was a trick. Someone else had snatched the prize from right under his nose.

  Nova’s men? No, that didn’t make sense. A third player? Had to be.

  It didn’t matter. He had to get them back.

  His life depended on it.

  Right about the same time Del McCormick put the van in gear, John Carrera’s brain finally started working the way he’d trained it to. Up to that point, he’d been running on instinct, first eliminating any threats to their safety and then getting Leah as far away from the warehouse as possible. The police showing up had been an unexpected but added bonus.

  Except now it didn’t seem that way.

  “Excuse me.” He leaned forward, placing his face close to the partition between the front and backseat. “What precinct are you from?”

  The man in the passenger seat, a swarthy fellow with short hair, turned partway around. “No precinct, man. Special task force. We been watching Tal Nova for many weeks.”

  “So it was an undercover operation?” John asked. He saw Leah start to say something, and he held up a hand, motioning her to keep quiet. Bless her soul, she did. Another mark in her favor.

  “Yeah, undercover.” The man nodded, and the driver, an even darker man who had the Dominican flag tattooed on the back of his neck, flashed a grin that contained at least one gold tooth.

  “Well, I’m glad you came along. Where are we going?”

  “We have a-a safe place. A casa.”

  “A safe house?”

  “Yeah. When we get there, you can call a friend or something and get a ride back home.”

  “Thank you.” John leaned back. The man in the passenger seat started scrolling through radio stations, finally settling on salsa music.

  Leah rested her head on John’s shoulder. “What’s going on?” she asked in a soft voice.

  “I’m pretty sure they’re not cops,” he whispered back. “Undercover cops wouldn’t be driving a cruiser. And these guys sound more like gangbangers than police officers.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We can’t do a damn thing until the car stops and they let us out. Just act like nothing’s wrong, okay? We don’t want to tip them off that we’re on to them.”

  The man in the passenger seat glanced back. “Hey, what’s the big secret?”

  “Nothing,” John said. “Just talking about taking some time off when we get home. It’s been a helluva week.”

  “That’s too bad.” The man pulled out a gun as the driver guided the car down a narrow alley. “’Cause it’s only gonna get worse, Paco. Hands where I can see them.”

  John silently cursed as he held his hands flat on his lap. He still ha
d the gun he’d taken from one of the shooters in the warehouse, but Leah was leaning against his hip and leg on that side, effectively blocking him from getting to the weapon. The idea crossed his mind of going for it anyway, knowing that if the thug shot him, Leah could cure him afterwards. Except there was always the chance of a fatal wound, one so bad Leah wouldn’t have enough time to work her magic.

  And what if he decides to shoot Leah? I can’t let that happen. Just have to take it slow and see how things develop. We can always go for broke later.

  The car stopped in front of a nondescript building. Making sure to keep his gun trained on them at all times, the man in the passenger seat got out and opened Leah’s door, motioned for them to exit the car.

  “Slowly, amigos. We need you alive, but alive and in one piece are two very different things, yes?”

  Hands in the air, John followed Leah out of the car. All thoughts of going for his gun were put to rest when the driver came around and did a quick but thorough pat-down, removing John’s gun.

  “Inside.” The gunman motioned toward the building while the driver opened the door ahead of them. It turned out to be a warehouse, smaller than the one they’d just left, but just as grimy and run-down. Shafts of pale sunlight streamed in from several broken windows on the second floor. The dust kicked up by their footsteps created swirling patterns within the accidental spotlights.

  Two chairs sat side by side in an otherwise empty room, informing John that their kidnapping wasn’t a random event.

  “Sit down. Hands behind you.”

  With two guns trained on them, John nodded his head at Leah, who looked frightened enough to try something foolish. Being tied up hand and foot wasn’t going to make their escape easier, but it was better than being shot.

  The driver quickly went to work with some extra-large tie-wraps, tightening them just short of painful, while the other man covered them. Only when they were securely bound did the kidnappers put their guns away and relax.

  “Hope you’re comfortable,” said the man who appeared to be the one in charge. “It’s gonna be a long wait.”

  “A long wait for what?” Leah asked, beating John to the question.

  “For your reckoning,” the gunman replied.

  “I don’t understand.”

  The man moved closer to her. Leah tried to push away from him, but the chair barely moved.

  “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” John said, forgetting one of the first rules of hostage situations—don’t antagonize the enemy.

  “Hurt her? No, my friend. We are not going to hurt her. We need her alive and well so she can demonstrate her magic for us.”

  Leah groaned and lowered her head, staring at a point between her feet. John knew what she must be thinking. Once again, her power to Cure things had put them in danger. How they’d learned about her didn’t even matter. At this point, her secret wasn’t a secret any longer, since it was safe to assume that whoever had kidnapped them—along with whoever had bungled the kidnapping at the other warehouse—had informed people higher up the food chain about Leah’s abilities. Add the fact that Marsh and Nova were still probably gunning for them, and it seemed like there wasn’t anyone who didn’t want to use Leah for their own purposes.

  Which brought John back to their present situation.

  “What do you need Leah’s power for? She just wants to be left alone.”

  The man nodded. “I believe that. However, what she does is an affront to God. Only he has the right to decide if people live or die. Men such as Tal Nova use you like a tool, and we believe that is wrong.”

  “I haven’t killed anyone, except for the man who was going to kill me,” Leah said, but her voice carried none of its previous fire. John sensed she was worn out past the point of caring. A defeated attitude like that wouldn’t do them any good. He needed to change it, and fast.

  “If God didn’t want her to cure people or animals, why would he give her that power?”

  Their captor shrugged. “Who is to say it is a gift from God? Perhaps it is a curse from the devil. There is a man coming who will tell us the truth of things.”

  “I used to think it was a curse,” Leah whispered to no one particular. “Maybe I was right.”

  “No.” John shook his head. “I can’t believe that. Think of all the good you’ve done, all the animals you’ve saved that would have died. You saved your mother. You saved me.”

  Leah looked up at him, and he saw he still wasn’t reaching her. Her eyes were dull and lifeless, her face a mask of despair. “None of that will matter if people force me to kill for them.”

  “Saving someone isn’t always the right thing to do,” the kidnapper said. “If God has chosen to bring someone to heaven, it is blasphemy to go against his will.”

  “That’s bullshit,” John said. “Doctors save people all the time. So do firefighters, and cops, and nurses, and even ordinary people. Are they all going against the will of God?”

  “No, but there is a difference. They do not use magic.”

  John started to argue that there wasn’t any difference between magic and using machines and drugs to save a life, but just then someone knocked on the door. Three short knocks followed by two long ones.

  Both men listened carefully before the driver went and opened the door.

  Three men stood outside, two of them darkly Hispanic and dressed in the same kind of clean but well-worn clothes John remembered from his two years as a patrol officer in Spanish Harlem. These were people who might not have much in life, but what they had, they took care of so it would last a long time.

  If their association with criminal activities made no sense, the third man entering the warehouse was as out of place as beer at an AA meeting. Unless his black shirt and white collar was a disguise, the new arrivals had brought a priest with them.

  Maybe they mean to perform an exorcism? It made sense in a sick, twisted way. Their kidnapper had said someone was coming who could tell them if Leah’s power came from God or the devil.

  “Hola, Padre,” the kidnapper said. “Thank you for coming.”

  The priest nodded and turned his life-weary face toward Leah. “Is this the one?”

  “Sí.”

  The priest walked over to her, his gait slow and steady, as if he carried a heavy load upon his shoulders. John wondered if that was simply his way, or if years of ministering to congregations of the poor, the illegal and the downtrodden had simply robbed him of his vitality.

  The priest reached out a hand and touched Leah’s arm. To her credit, she didn’t flinch, although her eyes grew wider. As much as John didn’t want to see her frightened, he was glad for the emotion. Anything was better than her previous resignation.

  “Please let us go,” she said. “I just want to go home.”

  “That is not for me to decide, my child.” The priest stepped back. “Only God can tell us which path to take. I trust in him to show us the way.”

  Leah didn’t answer him, but a tear ran down her cheek. Every inch it traveled was like a knife cutting deeper into John’s belly. He understood his guilt was no more sensible than her own, but that didn’t make it go away.

  Turning to the kidnapper, the priest asked, “Are you sure this will be as you said it would?”

  “Yes, Padre. There is no doubt.”

  “Then show me.”

  John was still trying to understand what the priest meant, when one of the kidnapper’s associates pulled out a gun.

  Three things happened at once. A tremendous explosion filled the air, an iron fist hit him in the stomach, and the room flipped around until he was facing the ceiling. In the background, someone screamed over and over.

  Then the pain took over, and nothing else mattered.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lost in her own self-pity, Leah never even saw the man who shot Joh
n. The sound of the gunshot brought her eyes open in time to see John tip over in his chair, ending up on his back. Her screams were automatic, tearing out of her throat before her brain finished processing what happened. They grew louder as the blood poured from his stomach and onto the floor.

  Then the part of her that she’d trained over the years, the part that let her deal with emergencies quickly and effectively, took over.

  “Let me go! There’s not much time! That’s a stomach wound. His intestines will be spilling bacteria all through his system.”

  She was afraid her new captors would be like Tal’s men, that they’d make John suffer to the point of death before letting her Cure him, but the man who’d kidnapped them motioned with his hand, and two of others immediately ran forward and cut her bindings. Without waiting for permission, she stumbled over to John’s body, her wrists and ankles in agony as blood flow returned.

  “Hang in there, John. You’ll be fine in a minute.”

  He moaned, but didn’t open his eyes.

  Bracing herself for the shock, she placed her hands on John’s wound.

  Except it wasn’t a shock, it was a full-out explosion that hit her, a pain so intense it knocked the breath from her lungs and sent her body into convulsions. Somewhere in the distant part of her brain still capable of coherent thought, she understood the reason for her agony. John had been moments from death, worse than the last time he’d been shot, and she’d taken that fatal wound into herself.

  This is the end. I’m sorry, John, I…

  Then the pain disappeared, and with it, all thoughts.

  Leah opened her eyes and saw only white.

  Did I die? Is this the white light I’ve heard about?

  She tried to move, but her hands and feet wouldn’t obey. Other sensations crept in. Something cold and hard against her back. A familiar pain in her wrists and ankles.

  She was alive.

  And she’d been tied up again.

  The white light resolved itself to a series of fluorescent bulbs overhead. Twisting her body to the side, she saw a dusty cement floor, another clue that she was still in the warehouse.