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Hot Lights, Cold Steel

Page 27

by D P Lyle


  “Enough talk. It’s late, and we have work to do.” Kincaid returned to the computer and tapped a few keys.

  Again the metal creature came to life. Another one of the legs came down close to Claire’s abdomen, not touching but moving one way and then the other. I saw her skin twitch slightly.

  “Robbie is mapping the area. Using high-density ultrasound to create a three-dimensional picture of the skin, muscles, and internal structures. Once this is completed, we can begin.”

  I saw Stone. One eye peeked through the corner of the window, and then he ducked from sight.

  The robot kept up its work, Kincaid patiently waiting. He turned to me. “Sorry we have to slice up Ms. McBride. But it is in the interest of science.”

  “Is that what this is?” I asked. “I thought maybe it was greed.”

  Lefty hit me again.

  This time I was ready and didn’t budge. Instead I looked at him and said, “You hit me again, and I’ll kill you.”

  He laughed. “You’re not in a very good position here.”

  Me: “I kind of like it.”

  T-Tommy: “Me, too. Where else can you get an education and entertainment?”

  Me: “A professor and two clowns.”

  T-Tommy: “Three clowns.”

  Me: “Sorry, Rocco. Didn’t mean to leave you out.”

  Rocco pushed himself away from the wall. “You guys are real comedians. But I’ll have the last laugh. See, I get to decide how you die. I can make it easy or . . . ?” He shrugged. “Austin and Lefty are pretty good at both.”

  Me: “I thought they just did whores.”

  T-Tommy: “Sort of specialized in them.”

  Me: “Found their niche.”

  T-Tommy: “Something they could handle.”

  Me: “Of course there was Aden Slade.”

  T-Tommy: “He was a little puny.”

  Me: “And albino.”

  T-Tommy: “Almost.”

  Me: “Yeah, almost.”

  Lefty clenched his fist.

  “That’s enough.” Kincaid waved Lefty away and glared at me. “You two think you’re clever. Not for long. As soon as I finish with Ms. McBride, you guys are next.” He turned to T-Tommy. “I’m really looking forward to getting you on the table. We’ve never had a subject your size. And when I’m finished, Mr. Scarcella will deal with you both.”

  “You mean his lapdogs,” T-Tommy said. “Boss Scarcella don’t get his own hands dirty.”

  Austin slammed his fist into the side of T-Tommy’s head. T-Tommy didn’t move, showed no reaction, except a grin directed at Austin. Austin rubbed his knuckles.

  “I was you I’d have that looked at,” T-Tommy said.

  “What?”

  “Your hand. Felt like something broke in there.”

  Austin hit him again. High on the side of his head. “Seems to work okay.”

  “Goin’ to be fun crushing your ass,” T-Tommy said. Austin shoved the muzzle of his gun against the side of T-Tommy’s head.

  “Stop it,” Kincaid said.

  The spider contraption made a beeping noise.

  CHAPTER 82

  WEDNESDAY 11:18 P.M.

  “ALL SET.” KINCAID RETURNED TO THE COMPUTER, AND AFTER A few more taps, the spider creature jumped into motion. One of the legs contacted Claire’s flesh and made a slight hissing sound. She recoiled with a quick intake of breath.

  “That’s the anesthetic spray,” Kincaid told her. “It’s a bit cold at first. You’ll also feel a slight tingling when the ultrasound kicks in.”

  I coughed for cover and snapped the plastic band. I wadded it in my hand, my fingers searching for the tip. Finding it, I gripped it between my thumb and forefinger, a quarter inch protruding. A weapon of sorts.

  “Don’t worry. For this first part Robbie will only make shallow cuts. He’s set to go a quarter of a centimeter deep.”

  The tip of one of the spider’s legs seemed to glow a red-orange color. It moved several inches down and across Claire’s abdomen.

  “See. Didn’t feel a thing.”

  Claire looked down. “I’m bleeding. It cut me.” She bucked against her restraints. “Get this thing off me, you psycho.”

  “Don’t you know you should never call your surgeon names?” Kincaid shook his head as if he were a disappointed father scolding a child.

  “Use me.” I slid to the front of my chair.

  Kincaid turned to me. “Where’s the fun in that? Fear of loss is much worse than fear of pain.”

  Stone peered through the window once more, and I gave him a slight nod. He sank below the window frame.

  Kincaid tapped something into the computer. “See what happens if we turn the anesthesia off.”

  Again the laser moved across Claire’s belly. This time she jerked and screamed.

  “Leave her alone,” I yelled.

  Lefty leaned toward me. He drew back his gun to hit me with the butt. In one motion I knocked the gun from his hand and slashed my makeshift knife across his face. The gun clattered to the floor, and Lefty backed away. Blood erupted from his cheek.

  T-Tommy leg-whipped Austin’s feet out from under him. He hit the floor hard. T-Tommy was on him in a flash and slammed his fist into Austin’s throat. I heard a loud crack.

  Stone and Stanhope burst through the door. Reinhardt pulled his weapon. Too late. Stone shot him in the face, along the jaw. In the enclosed room, the sound concussed against my ears. Reinhardt went down on one knee and tried to lift the gun. Stanhope put two in his chest, and Reinhardt collapsed forward.

  Lefty wiped blood from his face and reached for the gun on the floor. The chair I had been sitting in stopped him. I swung it against his face, felt the bones crack, and stepped back as he collapsed to the floor unmoving. I kicked the gun toward the corner.

  Austin, still clutching his throat, still unable to draw a breath through his crushed larynx, tried to get to his feet. Should’ve stayed down. He got as far as his knees before T-Tommy chopped his right fist into the side of Austin’s head. Austin’s face hit the floor with a sharp crack. He lay motionless, no longer struggling for air, no longer needing it.

  By that time I had Rocco backed against the wall, my hand flattened against his chest. He offered no resistance. Didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to escape undamaged. Not a chance. I hit him with a solid left hook. His head thudded against the wall, and he staggered. The second left was pretty damn good, too. Rocco’s legs folded beneath him, and he slid down the wall to the floor.

  Kincaid and Talbert hadn’t moved, their backs against the window, eyes wide.

  I grabbed the device that hovered over Claire and twisted it until I managed to rip it from its moorings. I tossed it across the room.

  “No,” Kincaid yelled.

  “Shut up, or you’re next,” I said.

  I loosened Claire’s restraints and pulled her into a sitting position.

  She hugged me tightly for a moment and then pushed me away. She was off the table and on Kincaid in a flash, swinging her foot up into the V of his legs. The thwack made me wince. It buckled his knees. I thought his eyes might jump from their sockets. Claire drove the palm of her hand into his chin. His head smacked the window behind him. It bowed and vibrated but didn’t break. Kincaid dropped to his knees. She spun and drove her heel into the side of his head. It jerked sideways. His body followed. He didn’t move.

  “You sick motherfucker,” she screamed at him. Blood from her two wounds trickled down her bare belly. She kicked him in the gut.

  I came up behind her and got her in a bear hug.

  “Let me go,” Claire said, “or I’ll kick your ass next.” Her legs bicycled in the air.

  I held on and laughed. “Glad all those kickboxing lessons finally paid off.”

  She started to laugh and then to cry. I turned her around and drew her close.

  T-Tommy wrapped a surgical drape around her shoulders. I helped her back up on the table and examined her wounds. Two four-inch long
lacerations. Both shallow.

  Furyk and half a dozen uniforms burst in.

  CHAPTER 83

  THURSDAY 1:13 A.M.

  AFTER FURYK AND THE UNIFORMS TOOK EVERYONE INTO CUSTODY and called in the coroner’s team to deal with the late Karl Reinhardt and Tommy Austin, we gave brief statements to one of the officers. Furyk said that was all he needed and we were free to go. He was such a nice man. Very giving. Concerned about us. I was sure he never gave a thought to the fact that the less we said the better it was for him. I also suspected that he had dusted any trail that might connect him to Rocco. The good sergeant was definitely not going down with this crew. Pissed me off, but there you go.

  Now we were in the ER at Memorial. Dr. Charlie Beck was on duty. We had met him during the Hublein-Kurtz-Pearce case. He had already seen Lefty. Said he had half a dozen fractured facial bones. I probably should have felt bad about it. I didn’t.

  Beck looked at Claire’s wounds. “Not bad. Very superficial.”

  “So you can just use some of those little tape things?” Claire asked.

  “Steri-Strips?” He shook his head. “They’re not that superficial. They’ll need a few stitches.”

  “Come on. Just tape them.”

  “I can charge more for stitches.” He laughed.

  “I knew it,” she said.

  “I’ve been following your reports on these murders,” Beck said. “I hear they caught the guy.”

  “Wrong guy,” I said. “We got the real ones tonight. That’s how this happened.”

  “Oh?”

  I told him the story while a nurse set up a suture tray, painted Claire’s belly red with Betadine, and draped her with one of those sterile blue sheets. The two wounds peeked through a hole in the middle. Beck put on a pair of gloves and went to work.

  The nurse cleaned the blood from my wrists. The plastic cuffs had scraped away a little flesh, but Beck said all it needed was antibiotic ointment and time. No big deal. I continued my story as she patched me up.

  When I finished the tale, Beck asked, “How could Dr. Kincaid and Mr. Talbert get involved in something like this?”

  “Once you step off the tracks, the end of the line can go all the way to murder. Out there off the rails you have secrets. Secrets get heavy. They need protecting, or they just might bring everything down. What will a man do to protect everything?”

  Beck looked at me. “Anything.”

  I nodded. “You got that right.”

  Beck shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  I watched as he finished closing the first of Claire’s wounds and began work on the second. “Can I ask a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “You know anything about robotic surgery?”

  “Sure. It’s an up-and-coming procedure.”

  “I know that the surgeon still does the work. Just remotely.”

  “That’s right.”

  “If someone invented one of those gadgets that could do the whole thing by itself, even the anesthesia stuff, what would that be worth?”

  “You mean a totally self-contained robotic surgeon?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Very Star Trek.”

  “But if it could be done?”

  Beck hesitated as if thinking about the question, then said, “Millions. Hundreds of millions. If it could be done, that is.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Is this what Kincaid was up to?”

  “Yeah.”

  He gave a low whistle. “Ambition has no bounds.”

  “Neither does greed.”

  “This planet is full of crazy folks.” Beck tugged another stitch tight. “Tonight was the topper.”

  “Are you talking about me?” Claire asked.

  He laughed. “No. We had one of those twilight zone moments earlier.”

  “That why all the cop cars are out front?” I asked.

  When we had pulled into the ER parking area earlier, there had been four patrol cars. T-Tommy stopped to chat with a couple of the uniforms he knew, while Claire and I went in to get fixed up. I assumed all the black-and-whites meant that there had been a traffic accident or maybe an injured suspect. Or sometimes cops just liked to hang around ERs. Probably had to do with coffee and nurses.

  “Yeah. Bobbie Hawkins, one of our ICU nurses, caught an employee trying to inject a patient with potassium chloride.”

  “An angel of death deal?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Our security guys held him until the police got here.”

  “Put up a fight?”

  “No. In fact he seemed happy that he got caught. Said he’d be in the paper now.” Beck shrugged. “Weird.”

  “How’s the patient?” I asked.

  “Fine. Last I heard, anyway.”

  “Who’s the guy?”

  “An orderly named Zeke Reed. I’m sure he’s right. You will see his picture in the paper tomorrow.”

  “Did he say why he did it?”

  “Haven’t heard. Maybe the police know.” Beck tied the last suture, slid the drape off Claire, dropped it into a trash bucket near his feet, and peeled off his gloves. “We’ll get a bandage on that, and you’re out of here. Stitches come out in a week.”

  CHAPTER 84

  THURSDAY 2:09 A.M.

  “SIX TOTAL,” T-TOMMY SAID AS CLAIRE AND I WALKED UP.

  “Six what?” I asked.

  “Victims. Some orderly has whacked six people. Tried again tonight.”

  “We heard about the one tonight,” Claire said.

  “Perp’s name is Ezekiel James Reed. People call him Zeke. Worked here for a few years. Whacked his first patient maybe a year ago. Couldn’t remember exactly.”

  “I take it he confessed?” I asked.

  “Apparently they couldn’t shut him up. Told the whole story. Wants to be famous. Even wanted to talk to news reporters before going down for booking.” T-Tommy shook his head. “But that’s not the good part. He got paid for a couple of them.”

  “What?” Claire said. “Angels of death aren’t contract killers.”

  “This one is,” T-Tommy said. “One of the people he got paid to do was Alejandro Diaz.”

  Which made the source of the cash obvious. “Rocco?” I asked.

  “You got it.”

  “He said that?”

  “No. Didn’t know the name of the guy who paid him. Big muscular guy. Met him at High Rollers.”

  “Austin,” I said.

  “Yep.”

  “Who was the other one he got paid to do?” Claire asked.

  “Guy named Joe Samuelson. He was suing one of Rocco’s buddies over some land deal. Gallbladder acted up, had to have surgery, never made it out of the hospital. This Reed dude said that was his first.”

  “And the others?” Claire asked. “Why’d he kill them?”

  “He liked it,” T-Tommy said. “Got a taste of it. Couldn’t let go.”

  CHAPTER 85

  FRIDAY 8:27 A.M.

  I HAD FINISHED PACKING WHEN T-TOMMY STOPPED BY. CLAIRE WAS in the shower. We were going down to Birmingham for the weekend to see Miranda and help put her daughter in the ground.

  “This case is really heating up,” T-Tommy said.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Lefty’s cutting a deal. Going to bring down Rocco and Furyk.” He smiled. “After they put his face back together.”

  “Furyk been arrested?”

  “Did it myself. About six this morning. Right as he was heading to the gym. You should have seen the look on his face.”

  “Wish I had. What about the hospital orderly? Any more from him?”

  “He IDed Austin from a photo as the guy who paid him for Alejandro and the other guy. Gave us names, dates, the whole deal. Kept records of everything.”

  “Bet his lawyer’ll love that.”

  “Didn’t want one. Asked for Claire. Wants her to interview him.”

  “She can’t until next week. We’re out of here in about fif
teen minutes.”

  “He’ll keep.”

  I shook my head. “Guess the book deal’s next.”

  “This is one fucked-up planet,” T-Tommy said.

  He had a way with words.

  STRESS

  FRACTURE

  DUB WALKER SERIES, BOOK 1

  D.P LYLE

  Dub Walker, expert in evidence evaluation, crime scene analysis, and criminal psychology, has seen everything throughout his career—over a hundred cases of foul play and countless bloody remains of victims of rape, torture, and unthinkable mutilation. He’s sure he’s seen it all . . . until now.

  When Dub’s close friend Sheriff Mike Savage falls victim to a brutal serial killer terrorizing the county, he is dragged into the investigation. The killer—at times calm, cold, and calculating and at others maniacal and out of control—is like no other Dub has encountered. With widely divergent personalities, the killer taunts, threatens, and outmaneuvers Dub at every turn.

  While hunting this maniacal predator, Dub uncovers a deadly conspiracy—one driven by unrestrained greed and corruption. Will he be able to stop the conspirators—and the killer—in their bloody tracks?

  ISBN# 978-160542134-6

  Hardcover / Thriller

  US $24.95 / CDN $27.95

  AVAILABLE NOW

  www.dplylemd.com

  OTHER BOOKS BY

  D.P. LYLE

  FICTION

  Stress Fracture

  (Dub Walker Series, Book 1)

  Royal Pains: First, Do No Harm

  (The First Royal Pains Tie-In Novel)

  Devil’s Playground

  (A Samantha Cody Novel, Book 1)

  Double Blind

  (A Samantha Cody Novel, Book 2

  NONFICTION

  Murder and Mayhem: A Doctor Answers Medical and Forensic

  Questions for Mystery Writers

  Forensics for Dummies

  Forensics and Fiction: Clever, Intriguing, and Downright Odd

  Questions from Crime Writers

  Howdunit Forensics: A Guide for Writers

 

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