by Sheryl Lynn
“Who?”
“Lanny and Vernon. Honeymoon Hideaway. Cabin A. Trussed up like turkeys and half-froze, but they’re okay.”
Uncertain she’d heard correctly, Janine peered closely at his face. His cheeks and nose were bright red. Water dripped from his mustache. “Lanny tied up Vernon?”
“No, ma’am. Jason did it. Jason Bulshe. Had a sword or machete and marched them through the snow to the cabin. Damn boy’s gone crazy. But the guys are okay. Madder than hell. Can’t feel their feet, but they’re okay.”
Janine looked at Daniel. He looked at her. As one they spun about and ran across the lounge. “Mom! Where’s the colonel?”
Elise pointed vaguely toward the east wing. “He’s fine, dear. I know this is horribly upsetting, but—”
“Where did he go? Is J.T. with him? We’re looking for the wrong person. Lanny isn’t Pinky, Jason Bulshe is! He—”
Elise staggered and placed a hand on the fireplace. rim to steady herself. Megan shifted Rosie to her other hip and reached for her mother. The other women closed ranks, looking confused and worried.
“My God,” Elise whispered. “Jason told your father Cody and Juan were waiting at the back door. They left a few minutes ago.”
Daniel grabbed Janine’s hand and practically pulled her off her feet in his haste. “Find Tristan and Ross,” she yelled over her shoulder. Machete, sword—she refused to consider the implications.
Inside the wing, near her office, Daniel pulled out the Luger. He released the safety and worked the slide. “Be warned, if he’s waving a sword, I’ll shoot him.”
She wanted him to blow Pinky’s head off. “Just don’t let anything happen to my father.”
They found J.T. at the rear entrance. The big man was sprawled facedown on the floor. Blood glistened on his black hair. A short length of pipe lay next to him. With a cry, Janine dropped to her knees. She fluttered her fingers helplessly over his bleeding head.
“J.T., oh, man. J.T.” Daniel crouched next to his friend and jammed his fingers under J.T.’s jaw. He heaved a long shaky breath. “He’s alive.”
Pounding footsteps made him jump upright. Tristan and Ross approached at a dead run and skidded to a stop. J.T. groaned and struggled to rise. Daniel and Janine helped him into a sitting position. She anxiously searched his eyes. The pupils looked the same size.
“Sucker-punched me,” J.T. mumbled and touched the back of his head. “Skinny little bastard sucker-punched me.” His voice strengthened, and he sounded more angry than wounded.
“He’s hurt,” Janine said. “Jason has my father! Did you see them?”
“We didn’t pass them in the hall. This door is snow blocked,” Tristan said.
Daniel’s eyes widened. “Your dad’s office.” He fished beneath J.T.’s jacket and pulled out his pistol. He thrust it at Ross. “Take care of my buddy, man. Tristan, get on the horn and call the cops. Tell them we have a hostage situation. I don’t care how they get here, helicopters, sled dogs, I don’t care. Just get here.”
“I think I heard Mom say something about a sword.” Ross knelt next to J.T.
Daniel shook his head. “I have a bad feeling he’s going for the big guns. Literally.” He took off at a dead run.
Ignoring her brother’s shouts for her to stay, Janine ran after Daniel. She caught up with him in the colonel’s office. The door stood wide open. So did the gun safe. A familiar ring of keys hung from the lock. Ammo drawers had been pulled open, and loose bullets and shotgun shells littered the floor. A deer rifle and a shotgun were missing.
People began to scream.
Daniel jerked a shotgun from the safe and thrust it at Janine. “Can you use this?”
In reply she scooped shells off the floor and efficiently loaded the weapon. She jammed extra shells in her pockets. She shut out the sounds of screaming and yelling. She’d never harmed another person in her entire life, but Pinky had her father, and that meant he wasn’t human. He was a monster. Daniel grabbed the remaining shotgun and a handful of shells.
They raced after the trail of screams. In the kitchen they found workers hiding under tables and squeezed between appliances. A busboy said Jason had marched the colonel at gunpoint through the kitchen toward the restaurant. Jason toted two weapons, had a sword in his belt and a coil of rope slung over his shoulder. The grand gesture had begun.
More cautious now, Daniel and Janine hurried down the corridor connecting the kitchen to the restaurant. Men and women hid behind and beneath the prep tables. The soft sound of weeping wafted through the air.
“Get out of the lodge,” Daniel told everyone they passed. “Get to the stables. Get out!”
Through the now-deserted restaurant they crept. A deathly silence had fallen over the lodge. At the restaurant entrance, Daniel crouched behind a half wall and peered through trailing philodendron vines.
“The ballroom doors are closed,” Janine whispered. A bad, bad feeling burned in her gut and worked its way up her aching chest.
A child began to wail. A woman’s voice rose in a frantic effort to hush the crying. Janine spotted movement behind the fireplace. She and Daniel stayed low, their weapons at the ready, never taking their eyes off the ballroom doors as they sneaked through the lounge. Men and women lay flat on the floor, hiding behind furniture. Elise and Megan had Jamie, Rosie and Hank on the floor behind the fireplace. Hank screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Where is he, Mom?” Janine asked.
“He forced your father into the ballroom.”
“Get out.” She stood upright and trained the shotgun bore on the ballroom doors. “Juan? Juan, where are you?”
The maintenance supervisor peeked around a potted plant.
“Get these people to the stable.” She urged Daniel to give the shotgun and extra shells to Juan. “If you see Jason headed your way, blow his head off.”
Daniel reached the ballroom doors. He pressed an ear against the door.
“Megan, Tristan is calling the cops. Tell him the gun safe is open in the colonel’s office. Arm as many people as he can. Where’s Frankie?”
“In the ballroom.” Megan spoke woodenly. She clutched her belly in a protective gesture. “Kara is in there, too.”
Swaying from the horror, Janine clenched every muscle in her abdomen against the urge to vomit. “J.T. is hurt. Ross is with him. Get him to the stables, too. Hurry, Mom, get these people out of here.” She ran lightly to Daniel’s side and dropped to a crouch behind him, her back to the wall and the shotgun cradled in her arms. “What do you hear?”
“Nothing. Is there another way in?”
“Several.” She watched people clear out of the lounge and lobby. “He’s not shooting, that’s good, right? I mean, psychos in office buildings always go in shooting, right?”
“Right.”
She didn’t believe him.
“What’s the best way in, other than these doors?”
Trying to enter from the outdoors was impossible. Snow piled against the doors and windows. “Men’s room.” She pulled out her keys. “A storeroom behind the men’s room. This way.”
They got into the storeroom, which was pitch-black. She felt for the door on the other side that led to the men’s room. Her clammy, shaky hands barely held the keys. A lantern illuminated the bathroom. The place was empty.
“Elk River has nice bathrooms,” Daniel whispered as they tiptoed to the door leading to the ballroom.
“We do our best.” She eased the door open a few inches. An alcove separated the bathrooms from the ballroom. The alcove was empty, too. Beyond the alcove, candlelight flickered, casting shadows on the walls. She listened, but nobody was talking. The silence was so heavy she wondered if any of the thirty or so people trapped by the madman even breathed.
Daniel extinguished the lantern, plunging the bathroom into darkness. “Belly crawl,” he whispered in her ear.
She slithered on the slick tile floor, inching toward the arched portal. An icy draft brushed
her face. Candlelight dimmed then flickered furiously. Following the source, she saw a sight she’d never wanted to see. A sight burned into her brain, guaranteeing nightmares for the rest of her life.
A door stood open and a mini-avalanche had tumbled snow onto the ballroom floor. The colonel stood, balanced upon a piece of firewood, his hands behind him, his back to the glass-paned door. He wore a noose around his neck. The rope stretched over the top of the heavy door frame and was attached to the door handle. A gold napkin bound his mouth.
Daniel pushed a hand on Janine’s back. “Stay down,” he whispered.
Daddy, she thought helplessly. Was it the candlelight, or was he quivering? If he lost his balance and slipped, he’d strangle. If he leaned against the door, he’d lose his balance. If he died, she couldn’t live.
Daniel urged her to peek around the wall.
Jason Bulshe, twenty years old, a mechanical wizard who’d never given her a speck of trouble, stood on the bandstand. Feet spread, back straight, he glared at the ballroom. In silence, people stared back. Her family and some employees sat at tables, the candles reflecting their fear. Jason held her father’s .30-.30 rifle. A shotgun lay at his feet. Her father’s ceremonial saber was stuck in his belt. His coverall pockets bulged with ammunition.
Janine scootched back into the alcove. “We cannot wait for the police.”
“I know.”
“Will he kill me? Is that his intention?”
He gazed into her eyes. His throat worked with a hard swallow. “Yes.”
She’d never been athletic like her sister Megan, or charming like Ross, or quick-witted like Kara. Other than fashion sense, she had no particular talents. But damn it, she’d always been her father’s daughter, and she refused to sit back and watch him die.
“Got a pocket knife?” she asked. Her father looked her way. His eyes widened. She waggled her fingers at him.
“Uh-huh, why?”
“You still want that honeymoon?”
“Janine...”
“You get my father down from there, and I’ll bathe you in champagne myself.” Leaving the shotgun, she pushed off the floor.
He tried to pull her back down, but she shook him off. “Reason won’t work, logic won’t work. What will reach him? How do I make him listen to me?”
“Uh, play his delusion. Acknowledge his love.” He glanced at her father. “Be yourself. Show him the real you.”
She straightened her sweatshirt. Despite the cold floor and colder draft, perspiration trickled down her back. She raked back her hair. She stared at her father. He stared back, expressionless, but he trembled. The chunk of wood was only about six inches in diameter; disaster was only a slip of the foot away.
She stepped out of the alcove. “Pinky?”
Jason spun about, kicking the shotgun. He swung the rifle to his shoulder. She stood frozen, certain he was about to fire. She heard gasps. Smelled her own rank sweat, mingling with the waxy scent of candles. The burn in her belly flared. He lowered the rifle.
At first her legs refused to cooperate. She told her rebellious muscles firmly: Move! so Daniel can rescue the colonel. Arms wide, her palms exposed, she approached the bandstand. Be herself, Daniel advised. Herself wanted to grab a microphone stand and beat Jason to death with it:
“What do you want?” she asked.
He ducked his head shyly and grinned, but he kept a finger inside the trigger guard. “I passed all your tests.”
She kept walking past the bandstand, relieved he turned his head to watch her. Either he’d forgotten about Daniel or he didn’t care. Armed to the teeth, with more than thirty hostages, he probably didn’t care.
“You are flunking this test,” she said. “I abhor violence. I thought you were better than this. Smarter.”
He shook his head. Shadows danced on the wall behind him. She made herself not look toward her father.
“The tyrant is going down,” Jason said. “Just like I promised. I always keep my promises to you. Once he’s gone, we can be together. You don’t have to be afraid of him anymore.”
“You think this is what I want?”
He growled and whipped the rifle to his shoulder. Her insides clenched into such a tight little knot, she thought she’d implode from the pressure.
“I don’t care what you want!” he yelled. “Damn you, I’ve done everything for you! I’ve devoted my entire life to you. I gave you everything. Did all your little crap jobs, ran your little errands. And you threw it back in my face. What makes you think you’re so special, huh? I can have any girl I want.”
Not crazy? He sounded crazy as a berry-drunk robin to her.
“What am I supposed to do? I’ve been respectful, patient. I spent all my money buying you gifts. Then when you pass me in the hallways, you pretend I don’t even exist. I’m sick of you treating me like garbage. I’m sick of that damned colonel keeping us apart.”
Be herself...Daniel couldn’t have meant that. Her true self was a classic type-A overachiever with a bad temper and thin skin. “You’re only half right,” she said. “The colonel isn’t keeping us apart. It’s me. I treated you poorly. I acted like a snob.”
He lowered the rifle. His eyes frightened her. They were like the glass eyes of a doll. “You’re not a snob. You’re perfect.”
She laughed bitterly. People shuffled restlessly. She didn’t dare take her attention off Jason. She prayed no one panicked. “Nobody’s perfect, Jason—Pinky, least of all me. You want to know the truth? Especially not me. I’m scared people will think I’m not perfect. I’m scared if they know me, they won’t like me.”
“You’re perfect.” The words trailed into a moan.
“I’m not. Don’t you understand? What I am is scared.”
“You don’t have to be scared of me. I love you.” He lowered the rifle another inch. His lips worked as if he chewed something.
“That’s very...sweet. I’m not really scared of you. It’s me. I’m scared if I’m nice to people, they’ll think I’m weak. I’m scared of people making fun of me. I’m scared of making mistakes. If you knew what I’m really like, you wouldn’t like me at all.”
“I do know you! We’re soul mates. I love everything about you.”
“You know about me.” She was running out of words. None of her past experience prepared her for a conversation with a madman. She maintained eye contact, willed him to keep his attention on her. “Like, you know I wear the color red. But you don’t know why. Nobody knows why.”
The rifle bore dipped a few more inches. “Because it’s pretty. You look beautiful in red.”
She licked her lips. “Truth is, I read somewhere that red is a power color. People take red seriously. Green is actually my favorite color. Green and purple. I like pink, too, but I never wear it. I don’t want people thinking I’m silly.”
“Honest?” He shuffled his feet and flexed his shoulders as if they ached. He cut his eyes at the silent crowd. “Why are you telling me this?”
Why, indeed? “For love? People in love know each other. Not just the surface stuff. They know each other down deep. They don’t have to be perfect.”
“You are perfect!” he insisted and tossed hair off his forehead. Sweat beaded on his face, pooling on his upper lip.
Don’t crack up on me, she prayed. Just keep talking.
A clunk made Jason spin around. The log spun a lazy circle on the floor and cut rope dangled limply over the door frame. Daniel shoved the colonel toward the alcove. An animal howl ripped from Jason’s throat and he shouldered the rifle.
“No!” Janine screamed as she scrambled onto the bandstand.
A door opening from the opposite direction made Jason whirl. A bullet ripped into the ceiling. The explosion rocked Janine. Pandemonium broke loose in the ballroom, and screaming people scrambled for safety.
Elliot stood in the main doorway, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide behind his glasses. “This is not a good time, I take it?” he asked stupidly in a sque
aky voice.
As if through clear gelatin that slowed every action, she watched Jason bring the rifle to his shoulder and sight down the barrel. She knew, without a doubt, once he murdered Elliot, he’d continue killing. His finger tightened on the trigger. He squinted one eye. He inhaled deeply.
Daniel leaped, right foot extended and struck Jason squarely in the back. Fire flashed from the rifle muzzle. The bullet whizzed so close past Janine’s shoulder, she felt the air on her neck. Daniel and Jason crashed into the drum set. The rifle flew out of Jason’s hands and spun across the floor. The bass drum banged and cymbals clanged. The snare drum rolled off the bandstand, clattering. The boy fought furiously, twisting and kicking and punching wildly at Daniel.
Janine scrambled after the rifle. Jason rolled free and sprang to his feet. He grabbed a microphone stand and swung the heavy base viciously at Daniel’s head.
Daniel ducked and jabbed Jason’s belly with stiff fingers. Janine fumbled at the rifle. A spasm gripped her fingers. She kept grabbing and missing. She finally got it off the ground with the business end pointed at Jason. Lips thinned in a snarl, the boy charged Daniel.
Daniel kicked him in the face. One perfect, smooth, too-fast-to-follow kick, slamming the full force of his powerful body into Jason’s nose. His foot connected with a crunch. Realizing she held the rifle upside down, Janine twisted it in her hands.
Jason dropped to his knees and swayed. His arms hung loosely at his sides. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth. His eyes crossed. He crumpled silently to the floor and lay still.
Elliot nervously cleared his throat. “I wondered where everyone had gone. I think...I shall leave as well.” He turned tail and ran.
Staring at Jason, Janine crouched and laid the rifle on the floor. She wondered if the boy was dead, but then he gurgled. On stiff unfeeling legs, she went to Daniel. His chest heaved, and he ran his hands anxiously over her shoulders and arms as if assuring himself she was all right. All the shouts, questions and crying behind her faded into nothingness. She focused on his beautiful copper-penny eyes.
