Danny raised an index finger. “Hold on a sec.” A look at the short woman. “The key you just used. Was it the master?”
She bit her lip uncertainly. “The closest thing we have to one.”
“Give it here.”
Her kindly face darkened, her internal struggle pitiful to behold.
“You’ll only get in trouble if you don’t cooperate with an official investigation,” Danny explained. “If anybody gives you flak, I promise I’ll take care of it.”
Looking unconvinced, the woman removed the key from the ring and placed it in Danny’s outstretched palm.
“And Miss?” he said.
She stopped at the door and looked at him, her comically magnified eyes plainly frightened. “Yes, Officer?”
Danny smiled. “Lock the door, all right?”
The woman nodded and scurried out. A moment later we heard the lock scrape closed.
Danny regarded Patterson. “We were just about to sort all this out. Father Crowder here seems to think my partner has been doing things he shouldn’t. My partner thinks something’s up with Father Crowder.”
Patterson moved forward, his broad shoulders seeming to fill half the room. “Jason Crowder is a good man. He and I have clashed in the past, but my best friend, may he rest in peace, believed in Jason’s character, and lately I’ve begun to understand why.”
Maybe it was the sleep deprivation or the emotional roller coaster to which I’d been subjected. Whatever the case, Patterson’s testimonial brought a thickness to my throat.
Danny nodded solemnly. “I’ve seen him in action too, Father Patterson. Which is why this is all so difficult. The other night, with my nephew Casey…I would’ve sworn Crowder would never harm anyone.”
“I haven’t,” I said.
“I think I believe you,” Danny said. “But we need to get somewhere secluded where we can hash things out.”
Patterson spread his arms. “What’s wrong with here?”
Danny grinned. “You think that little old lady’s gonna be able to control the crowd? However big it was to begin with is only gonna double. They’re gonna be right outside that door listening to every thing we say.” He shook his head. “We gotta find a better place.” He nodded toward the open door, out of which was emanating a rank, fetid stench. “That’s more private.”
Raines regarded the black doorway. “What’s in there?”
Danny shrugged, his grin reassuring. “Just the tunnels, Tyler. The city’s honeycombed with them.”
The tunnels. Danny’s words imbued me with dread. I looked at Patterson, who was eyeing the tenebrous doorway uncertainly.
Danny chuckled. “Don’t worry, Father. I’ll be there to protect you.”
¨¨¨
Like I had on the night of the exorcism, I felt like I’d wandered into some ghoulish Grand Guignol performance, the kind where every actor’s lines were tinged with sinister undertones. Danny used a powerful flashlight to illuminate our way. He went first, followed by me, Patterson, then Raines, whose right hand rested on the butt of his holstered gun. There were cobwebs all over the place and the furtive clitter of fleeing cockroaches, but the tunnel was tall enough even for Father Patterson to walk without stooping over. When we’d wandered down a narrow corridor for what felt like ten minutes, we encountered another door.
Danny said, “Let’s see here,” and fitted the key into the lock.
Unfortunately, the key worked. He twisted the knob, which screeched from disuse, and shone his light down an alarmingly steep flight of stairs.
Danny started down, called over his shoulder, “Close the door behind you, Tyler.”
Knowing I could do little to stop our downward progress, I followed. Patterson, however, paused in the doorway. “Hey, wouldn’t you say we’re secluded enough? I don’t have much interest in inspecting the city’s sewer pipes.”
Danny laughed but continued trudging down the steps. “That’s a separate system, Father. Down here’s where the freight tunnels are located.”
Patterson started down. “I thought those were closed off.”
“They were,” Danny answered, his voice echoing up the cement throat of stairwell. “Too many indigents found ways to sneak down here. The city sealed up the tunnels in most places, but if you know Chicago like I do, you can still find a few ways in.”
Raines made a remark, but I scarcely heard him. Because something I’d wondered about was clarifying, a comment Liz had made in her investigation room:
It was the Alspaugh murder that changed things, Liz had said. Widened the net of possible suspects, so to speak. There were too many witnesses near the site of the murder for the killer to have simply walked away. There were security cameras everywhere. The killer had to have some secret way in and out to avoid being seen.
I said softly, “You used the tunnels the night you killed Mary Ellen Alspaugh.”
Four steps ahead of me, Danny froze, but I hardly noticed. Because that tightening around my heart moored me to the spot, made me lean against the wall in pain. I knew Patterson hadn’t heard me—he was still at least twenty feet behind—but I knew I had come dangerously close to shattering my pact with Malephar.
As I stood there trying to breathe and hoping my chest wouldn’t blow apart, I thought of Malephar for the first time in several minutes. I knew the demon would never harm Danny. He was, after all, one of evil’s prized soldiers. Yet might there not be a way to utilize Malephar in this subterranean world? Could I somehow deliver Father Patterson and myself from the homicidal cops?
Careful, craven, Malephar warned. If you transgress again, I shall simply kill you and leap into another body.
If it were that easy, I thought, you would have done so already.
I was a coward—I knew it and despised myself for the deal I’d struck with the demon—but I remained horribly conflicted, and at some point our arrangement would become untenable. Malephar had to realize this as well, so if it were simply a matter of eliminating me and entering another, more appropriate host like Danny or Raines—hosts who would suffer no moral qualms—he would have already performed the transfer.
Danny began walking again, and when he did he muttered back to me, “Move up here, Father. We need to get a couple things straight.”
I drew even with him and said in a low voice, “‘Straight’ is a funny choice of adjective. Abducting girls, raping them. Desecrating their bodies after taking their lives. Then taunting the police you profess to support. You’re the very definition of a crooked cop.”
Danny kept the flashlight trained on the stairs ahead, which fed onto a landing before continuing down. “I’m past the point of being mad at you, Father. I’m even beyond being freaked out by the way you survived that knife wound. Now I’m just fascinated.”
I looked at him.
“Yeah, I know about the demon,” he said, meeting my gaze. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. You got that…that thing in you when it left Casey’s body. And it somehow healed you up after I unzipped your belly.” He frowned. “What I don’t understand is why it chose you.”
“It’s a pestilence.”
“I mean, why not me, right? Why not the guy who’s killing all these succulent young honeys?”
I gritted my teeth. “I can’t believe you’re boasting about it.”
“Keep your voice down, Father,” he said with a backward glance. Apparently satisfied that Patterson was far enough behind us, he went on. “So Tyler spilled his guts to you. Man, what are the odds? A city this big?”
“It’s not that surprising,” I answered. “The cathedral is part of his new beat. He probably heard you say you’re a member of St. Matthew’s. Maybe, subconsciously, he wants you both to get caught.”
“Oh, I’ll admit he’s got a nasty streak. Some of the shit he was saying about Celia even made me blush.”
“You can’t touch her now.”
“Wanna bet?”
We reached the bottom of the steps and were imm
ediately faced with a stretch of corridor so long and dark that it seemed to eat Danny’s flashlight beam.
Standing side by side, staring into the darkness together, I said, “If something happens to her, everyone will know you’re the killer.”
Footsteps approached from behind. Patterson and Raines were almost upon us. “Guess you’ll never know, will you?” Danny said in a low voice. He hunkered down and situated the flashlight on the crumbly floor, the cone-shaped beam illuminating his face from below. Lit up that way, like a camper telling a spooky story around a fire, he looked every bit as savage as I knew him to be.
I said under my breath, “You’ll have to murder Father Patterson too. He’s not going to keep silent about this.”
“Oh yeah, about that,” Danny said, turning to regard Patterson, whose face was sheened with sweat. “Father, you mind checking that fuse box on the wall behind you? I wanna see if it’s still hot.”
Patterson turned and looked at the wall, on which there was nothing but water stains and grime, and before I knew what was happening, Danny was taking out his gun and pistol-whipping Patterson in the base of the skull.
The large priest sank to his knees and pitched forward like a felled oak. Danny holstered his weapon, his face expressionless.
Raines gaped at Patterson’s prone form. “Jesus Christ, Danny, what was that for? You can’t go hitting a priest.”
“I didn’t hit him,” Danny said, forcing his fingers under his waistband and coming out with a long, curved knife. “And I didn’t do this either.”
Before I could register his meaning, the knife was whipping toward Tyler Raines and slashing his throat. The slit was deep, the diagonal line opening like the crimson maw of some mutant catfish and spraying blood all over Patterson’s unmoving back.
I stood immobile, my breath coagulating in my throat. Danny stepped toward me, wiping off the handle, and placed the knife in my hand. “Then you went for me, Father Crowder,” he said, stepping back and reaching for his gun, “and I had to shoot you in self defense.”
I lunged for him, knowing if he drew his gun I’d be dead. But Danny was too quick. My blade whickered past his face, and he pumped a fist into my stomach. My foot must have caught the flashlight as I stumbled forward, because the upraised cone of light suddenly danced about the corridor, licking the walls and coming to rest on Raines’s alabaster face. Raines was slumped on his knees, still attempting to clutch his hemorrhaging throat, but I could hear Danny moving closer, no doubt aiming the gun at me or perhaps reaching for the flashlight.
I glanced back, saw it was the latter. Danny had bent over, his fingers almost to the thick black cylinder. I kicked backward at it and connected, the flashlight clicking off as it tumbled.
Danny and I were steeped in a darkness thicker than I could have imagined.
“You son of a—” Danny started, but I’d pushed to my feet, begun to scamper toward the steps, thinking to escape this shadowed tomb.
Before I reached them the corridor lit up with a fusillade of shots. Gasping, I jumped backward, slammed against the wall in an attempt to make the slimmest possible target. The dark hallway lit up with each concussive blast, the sparks from the slugs inching closer and closer as they sprayed chunks of concrete. I knew if I fled up the interminable staircase I’d make an easy target for Danny. Yet he was twice as strong as me, a cold-blooded murderer expert in doling out violence. If I attempted to physically best him, I knew I wouldn’t last long. I could go for Raines’s weapon, but I had no idea how to handle a gun, and what was more, the firearm was likely slimed in Raines’s blood and might not even function properly. Which left only one option that I could see, an avenue that chilled my blood.
“Smile, Father,” Danny said, and I knew he had zeroed in on me by the sound of my breathing.
I dropped to the floor just as he fired, the gunshot a blast of pale light in the stygian gloom. I clambered toward Danny on feet and hands, moving in a way I hadn’t since early childhood. I was aiming for the space to Danny’s right, where I thought the flashlight had fallen. Danny was cursing and crunching about on the gritty floor, no doubt searching for the flashlight as well. My probing fingers encountered an object that moved when I touched it, causing me to suck in surprised breath and shrink toward the middle of the corridor. It was Tyler Raines, of course, Tyler’s breath now entering its death rattles, the gargling sound making my skin crawl. I clambered over Father Patterson, hoping the big man would rouse, but though he still breathed slowly and evenly, he was out cold, and I doubted he’d be awakening any time soon.
The flashlight should be about three feet away.
From almost exactly where, I realized with dawning horror, the sounds of Danny’s movements were emanating.
I heard a soft sighing sound—Danny was pleased—and a moment later the flashlight beam lit up the tunnel. I was too late. Danny would shine the beam on me and put a bullet in my forehead.
It was at that moment that I realized I still carried the fillet knife Danny had handed me.
I lashed out blindly with the curved blade, and before Danny dropped the flashlight, I saw a dark stripe of blood open on his wrist.
This time Danny let loose with a guttural barrage of curses, but I had no plans to stick around to listen. Because Danny was already regrouping, turning, and aiming the gun in my direction.
I had no choice. He stood between me and the staircase, and anyway, the flashlight lay at his feet and not mine. But behind me there was darkness, and for the moment, it was my only ally.
I bolted into the shadows.
Danny fired once, the bullet pinging off the wall, and the gun clicked, its ammunition spent. Had I known Danny would have to reload, I might not have set off in a direction that guaranteed death. I might have chanced rushing past him and gaining the stairs while he was occupied.
But I had chosen my course and knew there was nothing but to follow it now. I sprinted as fast as I had in my life, knowing that Danny would fire upon me the moment he got his weapon reloaded.
I had to be out of range when he did.
I’d scampered maybe fifty yards down the narrow corridor by the time a dim glow appeared behind me. Instinctively I began to swerve right and left to make a more elusive target. But I needn’t have worried.
Because the next moment, the light winked out and footsteps began to race after me.
Danny had decided to hunt me in the dark.
Chapter Seventeen
I don’t know how long I fled down that endless corridor. I only know that at some point I realized I needed to take caution not to slam face first into a wall. If I did, I might be knocked unconscious, and then Danny would be able to complete his ghastly scheme.
I imagined Danny’s story in its stark, fabricated glory:
Officer Danny Hartman discovers that Jason Crowder is the one who murdered Father Sutherland. Crowder, knowing he’s been discovered, strikes Father Patterson with a blunt object, produces a fillet knife, with which he slashes Tyler Raines’s throat, before he’s ultimately brought to justice by the brave Officer Hartman.
The symmetry of the lie sickened me. I had to find some way out of this, not only to save myself but to preserve what good reputation I still possessed in the eyes of those who mattered to me, even if I didn’t deserve their regard.
I raced on through the black tunnel, completely unaware of how deeply I’d ventured or how far behind me Danny was. Sometimes I would slow, my ears straining to pick up Danny’s movements. But he was a practiced murderer and was therefore adept at utilizing stealth. Each time I thought I heard a rustling from the corridor behind me, the noises would cease, and I’d be left with the labored sounds of my own breathing and my clumsy footfalls, which were growing increasingly heavy.
As I staggered forward, the ground began to drop away from my feet. I tried to slow down, but by the time I realized I was descending, I had picked up too much momentum to halt my progress. I tumbled headlong, rolled, and grunted in pa
in as my shoulder crashed into some unyielding surface. Rocks and dust showered my upturned face. I coughed out chalky air. From behind me came the hurried tread of my pursuer.
It was enough to get me back on my feet. I groped in the darkness, touched the abutment into which I’d slammed. I’d reached a fork in the corridor. I had no idea which direction was the more logical choice, and the prospect of getting lost in what was likely an underground labyrinth suffused me with dread. Yet what choice did I have? Continue my flight or die.
I fled.
Taking the left prong of the fork, I set off at a trot, but immediately heard something that shocked me into silence.
The dull roar of water.
What was even more astonishing was the fact that I could make out a dim light emanating from somewhere ahead.
“Father Crowder,” Danny crooned.
I gasped, halting. Moments later, the tunnel lit up.
“Now which one did you take?” Danny called. “The right lane goes into the freight tunnels, the left one heads deeper.”
A pause, Danny’s flashlight beam crawling over the concrete. I thought I’d advanced far enough to avoid detection, yet if he started down my tunnel, I’d stand little chance of surviving.
The beam went away. “I don’t see you, Father,” he said, his voice fainter now. “But something tells me…”
The light went out. His footfalls echoed. Was he approaching me, or had he selected the other tunnel? Noises down here were weirdly distorted. I thought he’d chosen the right prong of the fork, but I couldn’t be sure. A desperate urge to bolt gripped me, but I forced myself to remain still, to confirm his position before giving away my own. I turned from the sound of Danny’s steps and studied the meager light filtering toward me. It wasn’t much, but I’d at least be able to see a little, and that was enough to get me moving again. I tiptoed forward, knowing any error on my part might bring Danny and his gun. He wouldn’t scruple about shooting me—the story he planned to tell his superiors was perfectly plausible. He would be a hero. And go on killing.
Exorcist Falls Page 29
