Jaxon’s draw dropped to his chest. Victoria sat up straighter. “Are you sure you saw him, Mrs. Littleton?”
“Uh-yes. I’m pretty sure I did. He’s hard to miss.”
“Where did you see him?”
“Why, at the house,” she pointed again to the grey two-story. “I hadn’t seen him in so long, but I’m sure it was him. He was wearing an old…”
Jaxon was no longer listening to her. A tumbler in his head dropped into place. Radio controlled airplanes. Diethyl Ether in the fuel. Click! Leonard Worthington was a big man. Ellie and Luke, as well as Mr. Lolly had said the killer was huge. Jaxon had seen him on surveillance. Six four, easy. Click! To Ellie: “I know your father.” Click! To Jaxon: “You’ll regret this.” Click! “These are not Malcom’s. They are mine. I return them to you now.” Click! “That’s what I told Michael. But you never came.” Click!
Jaxon stood. He grabbed his radio and called dispatch to get the SWAT and bomb teams out here immediately. “Mrs. Littleton, I want you to get to your basement and stay there until we say it’s alright to come out.”
She looked terrified. Jaxon’s panicked actions had startled her and now this revelation he hurled at her, pushed her past the limit. “What’s happening?!” she shrieked. “What’s wrong?!”
“Just do it!” he shouted at her and she moved quickly to the basement door and disappeared down the stairs. Victoria had put it together by now, also, and was on her cell coordinating some Federal efforts to assist with whatever they needed here. Leonard Worthington was alive and had been in his parent’s old house.
Jaxon stepped outside with Victoria and walked to the end of the driveway. The grey house stood quiet in the fading light and there were no windows on this side for anyone inside to look out. He looked skyward, trying to see light poles, lamp posts, trees, anywhere a hidden camera or web-cam could be mounted. Victoria joined him and after a moment, grabbed his arm and pointed. Just inside the yard of a house directly across the street from the Worthington home, an old oak stood, its limbs reaching out into the street and over the yards. High up on the trunk, close to where the limbs branched out away from the tree, a small grey box with a black spot in its middle was mounted facing the Worthington house.
“Shit!” he said. “We can’t risk going in there until the bomb guys check it out.”
“Not only that,” she said, “what about the neighbors!”
“Shit! I’ll take this side and you take that! Go!”
Jaxon sprinted to the first house next to the Littleton house and pounded on the door.
“Open up! Police!” He pounded the door until a little old grey haired lady answered. He flashed his badge and instructed her to go into her basement and await further instructions. He told her he didn’t have time to explain. He heard Victoria pounding on doors behind him. He ran to the next house.
Jaxon heard tires squeal in the distance and knew they were coming. Everybody ran silent in a situation like this. Jaxon had made it to four houses when the first squad car pulled up. He ran to it and told the officer to get the other houses’ occupants to the basements. The officer ran off. Two more cars pulled up and then the SWAT team command vehicle rolled in followed by the bomb squad. FBI cars were now showing up too.
Victoria had joined Jaxon and they met the SWAT commander in front of the vehicle. Dark had settled in and the flashing lights cast strange shadows across the trees and houses. If Worthington hadn’t known they were here before, and he was in there, he definitely knew they were here now.
They were discussing the previous house in Indiana with the bomb squad chief when Jaxon’s cell phone went off. It was Halson in the lab.
“There’s a note in the box with the dog’s head,” Halson said. “It was stuck to the underside of the lid.”
“What did it say?” Jaxon asked.
“‘For Daddy’s girl,’” Halson said. Click! Another tumbler in place. This one was so obvious though that Jaxon wondered if he was being led again by the maniac. It was as if he was making it easy.
“Thanks, Billy. Gotta’ go,” and he hung up. His phone rang again almost immediately.
All zeroes on the caller I.D.
He showed it to Victoria who nodded once for him to answer. She had them all quiet down as best she could. He pressed the button.
“Hello Leonard.”
Metallic chuckling came through the speaker and a bit of feedback with it. Jaxon pulled the cell phone away from his ear. “Bravo, Detective. Bravo. Unfortunately, you are a bit slow.”
“We’re coming for you, Leonard.”
“Apparently, you aren’t listening,” Worthington said, turning off the voice distortion.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jaxon said. “You’ve got nowhere to go.”
Jaxon heard what he thought was a whimper come over the speaker and then Worthington said, “Are you listening, now Detective?”
A whine and then a howl of pain as Jaxon recognized Reverb’s cry. The line went dead.
He turned to Victoria. “He’s not here! He’s at my place! Come on!”
They sprinted for his car and yelled for a couple more patrol cars to follow. Victoria got on the phone with the SWAT commander enroute and discussed the options. They decided this team would stay in case Worthington was playing them and was actually here. The bomb squad would stay also and search the area for incendiaries and triggers. The FBI would send a team to Jaxon’s place and they should all reach the apartment at about the same time.
Jaxon had the lights and siren on as they worked their way through the early evening traffic. Luckily it was light, but they had to travel all the way from Reston to Annandale. It was taking too long and Jaxon knew they would miss him. Victoria remained in constant contact with her team at the Bureau and kept Jaxon in the loop.
“We’ll get there,” she said.
Arriving at his place, the FBI group getting to his apartment just before them, Jaxon sprinted from the car, racing for the apartment. Victoria and the FBI team yelled for him to stop, but he was going in no matter what. He knew the killer was not here and he knew there was no bomb waiting for him. The only thing he was unsure of was Reverb.
Bursting into the apartment, he ran from room to room. He stopped short of the kitchen and slumped. Victoria came in behind with her gun drawn, the FBI following behind. She saw Reverb hanging from the light fixture in the small kitchen and moaned.
He had been skinned and eviscerated like game, the muscle and connective tissues still glistening in the fluorescent lights. Jaxon pounded the door frame with a fist and turned away. One of the FBI guys swept past and looked over the area.
Jaxon’s eyes moved to Victoria’s whose look of sadness was probably only matched by his own. She touched his sleeve.
“You guys need to see this,” one of the FBI agents said.
Victoria looked past Jaxon and then moved into the kitchen. Jaxon stayed where he was. Victoria called to him and he finally turned and went into the kitchen. He avoided looking Reverb’s way.
A piece of newspaper was ripped from the main page and scribbled in big black letters were the words, ‘Too Late.’ The asshole used a piece of trash to write on. It was like a slap in the face and Jaxon knew it was meant that way.
“Yeah,” he said, under his breath. “We know we’re too late, you prick.”
Victoria suddenly grabbed his arm. “Oh Shit! Maybe he means we’re too late for the kids!”
Jaxon grabbed his phone and dialed the number. With a sinking feeling and everyone silent around him, the phone rang and rang. He hung it up and pulled the radio off his belt.
“Guardian 1, this is Jaxon, over.”
Silence. “Guardian 1, this is Jaxon, do you copy!”
They ran for the cars.
Chapter 44
Leonard David Worthington drove calmly down the street, reminding himself what is was to be a survivor. The scars he bore from the shotgun blasts were badges of honor he wore proudly.
That old fool had thought he took care of him, but he had been sorely mistaken. He had to admit to himself that he had almost succumbed to the injuries, but apparently, he was meant for greater things and somebody had been looking out for him. Too bad the person who had pulled him from the frozen lake hadn’t been as lucky. The man had drowned saving him and there was nothing he could have done about it. Worthington had been too weak to do anything but help himself.
Smiling to himself at the memory, he pulled in behind the police vehicle. He could see the man look into his mirror as his own lights illuminated the interior of the patrol car. Worthington shut the engine off, extinguishing the headlights. He opened the door and stepped to the driver’s window of the car. The officer was rolling down the window.
“Good evening, Officer,” Worthington said. He was carrying a stuffed animal in his left arm. It was a purple unicorn with a bright pink bow wrapped around its neck. The officer looked at it and chuckled.
“That’s not for me, I take it,” the policeman said.
Worthington smiled. “No. It’s for my daughter, Ellie.”
The cop’s smile faltered and Worthington could see some wheels turning in there. The cop suddenly grabbed for the radio. Worthington’s right arm shot up and the can of mace he was carrying fired directly into the officer’s face. Worthington immediately reached in and grabbed the officer’s neck, and with the purple unicorn soaked in model airplane fuel, he muffled the officer’s cries with it by stuffing the unicorn into his face and holding it there until the officer succumbed to the fumes.
One down, he thought.
Walking into the backyard and through the hole in the fence, he approached the second squad car from the rear. This time, he held the unicorn below the officer’s line of sight and tapped on his window, startling the man. The officer rolled it down. Worthington maced him immediately, and then rendered him unconscious in the same fashion as the first.
Two down. Nobody had noticed a thing. His daughter waited inside. He wasted little time.
Striding to the basement sliding door, he shattered it with a swift kick, the noise loud in the night, but it didn’t matter. He would be in and out within minutes. Commotion from upstairs could be heard as he strode briskly up the stairs. Bursting through the door, he saw the mother directly in front of him, standing with her hands to her face, frozen. He took a step to her and grabbed the junction of the nerve bundle at the base of her neck adjoining the shoulder and applied pressure. She moaned and collapsed, unconscious within seconds, her head striking the floor with a sickening crunch.
The boy came around the corner and paused for a second, staring at him. Then Lucas Harrison charged at him and this surprised Worthington, but nonetheless, it was foolish. As the boy came within range, he moved to his left and brought his knee up into his abdomen, bending him at the waist. His right fist struck the base of his exposed neck and he was down for the count. Worthington grinned and even admired the boy’s foolish courage. Maybe he would re-evaluate the boy’s destiny.
Hearing heavy footfalls above his head, Worthington moved into the hall and turned left into the living room.
And there she was.
The shock on her face only amused him. Of course she would not believe. He knew she had seen a picture of him, but the real recognition came when she saw his eyes. He watched as who he was registered in her mind and then was surprised when she said, “Hello, Daddy.”
Then she ran.
It did no good. He was too quick for her and he cornered her easily. He talked to her soothingly as she struggled against the stuffed animal pressed to her face, but her struggles soon subsided. He lifted her, so small and so light, put her over his shoulder, and walked out the front door. As he reached the bottom of the driveway, the father emerged from the house, shouting, pistol pointed toward him. Worthington did not hesitate. He drew the Glock from the small of his back and fired. The man went down without another sound.
Worthington walked to his car and lay his daughter carefully in the back seat. He opened his own door, glanced around the quiet neighborhood and then sat in the seat. He started the engine and drove away whistling.
His princess had finally come home.
Part 3
Chapter 45
Luke awoke not sure where he was. His head throbbed and things kept swimming in and out of focus around him. Voices penetrated his fog and he could make out things like, ‘bed 23’ and ‘I.V.’ and ‘hydrocodone,’ but none of the voices he recognized. Then, Deana, his sister, spoke in his ear next to him.
“Luke? Luke? Can you hear me? Your eyes are open.”
Luke turned his head toward her voice and the world spun crazily. It settled after a few seconds and Deana’s face swam up from below. She smiled at him.
“There you are,” she said. “Are you ok?”
He had no idea. He didn’t feel much except for the throbbing in his head and the sickening spinning of the room. He tried his voice. “Where?”
“Where are you?”
He started to nod, but stopped because the room started spinning again.
“You’re in the hospital. Mom and Dad are here too.”
“What happened?”
“You got knocked out,” she said.
He couldn’t remember. Were he and John doing something stupid, like the time he fell jumping over ramps with his bike? He thought hard, but nothing surfaced.
“Mom’s on the third floor and is doing great,” Deana went on. “Dad’s still in I.C.U. but will be moved out today. He’s doing a lot better.”
Mom on the third floor? Dad in I.C.U.? He crawled back through his memory and fought to sort things out. It seemed like just yesterday, he and Ellie were playing Monopoly in the living room and she was beating the crap of him. Or was that last year? He remembered giving her cookies in a bag Mom had fixed up, but couldn’t fit it into any time frame. Was it summer? Winter? Did he slip on the driveway and crack his head? The Monopoly game kept swimming up to his consciousness and he saw his hand moving the racecar to Boardwalk over and over again. Every time there was a sound like water crashing or waves breaking over the sand whenever he landed on the spot.
“The police are right outside too, so don’t you worry.”
Police? What the hell happened? The racecar slid across the board and stopped on Boardwalk. ‘Splash!’ Ellie’s face looking scared.
“Katy and Christopher are with Grandma and Grandpa, but they’ll be back up here in about an hour. We sure were worried about you.”
Racecar. Boardwalk. ‘Splash!’ Ellie scared. Racecar. Boardwalk. ‘Crash!!’ Ellie terrified!
His eyes opened wide. Not a splash of water. A crash as glass broke. Ellie’s face scared. Then the killer! In his house!
“Where’s Ellie?!” Luke tried to sit up. “Where’s Ellie?! Where’s Ellie!?” The room started spinning again and he felt Deana’s hands on him and her voice, soothing, trying to calm him down.
“Lay back, Luke. Lay back. Everything will be ok. Calm down.”
Her voice was irritating to him. He didn’t want to calm down. He wanted to know where Ellie was.
He stopped struggling and sat back in his bed and closed his eyes. The spinning seemed to slow. He kept his eyes closed but spoke. “Deana. Tell me where Ellie is.”
Nothing happened for a minute and he thought Deana left, but then he heard her sigh.
“They don’t know.”
“They?”
“The police. They haven’t found her and they haven’t heard from her father.”
“Her father? What does he have to do with anything and where is she?”
“Her father took her. They thought he was dead, but he’s not. He broke into the house and knocked you and Mom out, shot Dad, and left with Ellie. He’s the killer, Luke. I’m sorry, but the pool dummy killer took Ellie and it’s her dad.”
Chapter 46
Jaxon was on his eighth shot of Crown and feeling no pain. At least he kept telling himself that. He wa
s probably in the most pain he’d been in since his son was killed. He was done. It didn’t mattered one way or the other. The killer had beaten him again and made it look easy.
Jaxon had turned his badge and gun in the night everything went bad and had been locked in his apartment for the past two days. He hadn’t been able to save the girl and the bastard had won. The phone was unplugged and his cell turned off. Someone had banged on the door once, but had left after he would not answer. He had been too drunk to remember who it was.
After the frantic drive to the Harrison home, Victoria working the phones trying desperately to get someone, anyone to the house, they had arrived to find the officers from the Pemberton home at the scene, trying to get things under control. Three of the Harrison children were hysterical in the yard as they watched their father bleed from a wound in his chest. The ambulance arrived shortly after, and got Luke and his mother and father loaded up and stabilized. Ellie was nowhere to be found.
The two officers who had been rendered unconscious by Worthington, described the man as ‘big.’ They remembered little else. One said he had horrible dreams of a big purple unicorn trying to suffocate him.
The neighbors had seen very little. One man had witnessed a green Ford Fusion leaving the area after what sounded like a gunshot, but the man had only seen one person in the car. He didn’t get the license plate.
Mrs. Pemberton and her son had shown up, hearing the commotion in the neighborhood and noticing their protectors missing. She had been frantic at the disappearance of her daughter and when she saw Jaxon, lashed out at him, screaming he was a murderer.
“You killed my baby!” she screamed, slapping at his chest as another officer held her back. “You killed my baby! You promised! You promised to keep her safe! You promised!”
By then the news crews had arrived and the whole scene went out live to all the local networks. Jaxon slumped under the weight of her accusations. What could he say? She was right. Victoria stood silently next to him, tears rolling down her cheeks. She had been as devastated as he.
Frozen Past Page 24
