Head Shot

by Dan Ames

  But after a while it started to piss him off.

  And soon he'd come up with a way to steal back the spotlight he deserved. He would have some more fun in the process and get another car. It was from there he'd make his way down I-75 to Detroit where he could resume his activities.

  He clapped his hands together and rubbed his palms briskly.

  Ferkovich stepped out of the back door of the small shack. He walked into the woods to the left of the shack and headed directly north.

  In several minutes he would come out on Lost Lake Road.

  Chapter 79

  The spoonful of yogurt froze in the air where it stopped tantalizingly close to the waiting red lips of Beta Giancarlo.

  With her recent promotion Beta was not just the most powerful agent at her firm, she was now in the upper echelon of agents in all of Hollywood. Her name was regularly being mentioned at power lunches in trendy restaurants across the valley.

  But this morning the normally unflappable Beta Giancarlo was shocked.

  Before her, in today's newspaper, was the story of struggling actor Mike Sharpe, her Mike Sharpe, and his near death at the hands of a well-intentioned but apparently idiotic man in the mountains of Michigan's Upper Peninsula.

  Beta scanned the story and shook her head in disbelief.

  Mike had talked to her before leaving for vacation and now it sounded like he almost died.

  Beta thought fast.

  "Susan," she said through the speakerphone to her secretary, "could you please come in here?"

  The svelte woman who appeared quickly in Beta's doorway looked less like a secretary than the sexy actress she desired to be.

  "Did you call Mike Sharpe?"

  Susan thought for a brief moment.

  "Yes, I tried him several times but always got his voicemail, so I left a message for him to call."

  That was good news to Beta.

  "Did you tell him why I wanted to talk to him?"

  "No."

  "Good. If he does call, put him right through to me, please."

  The secretary left Beta's office and she swiveled in her chair. The sight outside her windows was an impressive one. Her new office was double the size of her last one and these window views were breathtaking.

  She picked up the paper again and glanced through the story, making sure she hadn't missed anything.

  This was too good to be true.

  She almost laughed in spite of herself, thinking of Mike pounding the pavement out here only to have his big break come in Michigan at the hands of a stupid redneck.

  Well, opportunities come from strange places sometimes, she thought.

  Since her promotion she'd been trying to put together a couple of big deals but they had both stalled out. This town was all about publicity and right now, Beta knew she needed something to cement her new position of power and the reputation that came along with it.

  This would be it.

  She would broker Mike Sharpe's story for film or possibly a made-for-television special. She would even consider having him star in it. She would point him to a good literary agent as there would definitely be a book deal.

  She polished off the yogurt and took a long drink of mineral water. Beta could taste the beginnings of a victory and was exhilarated by the prospect of making a killing.

  Yes, she thought, opportunities do come from strange places.

  She smiled.

  Thank God Mike Sharpe had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Chapter 80

  Mike and Laurie had just finished a big lunch with his parents. Pasta and garlic bread sprinkled with mozzarella cheese. The overload of carbs hadn’t helped with Mike’s drowsiness.

  "My poor baby," Laurie said from his side, stroking his hair and looking him in the eye.

  "If you're going to play nurse, I think you need to be in one of those cute little white uniforms."

  The phone rang and Rose went inside the cabin to answer it. Ron looked closely at his son.

  "How ya feelin', Mike?"

  "Tired," was all he could manage.

  "Did you take your noon pills?" asked Laurie. She had been his unofficial nurse since his release from the hospital.

  "I don't think so, but I'm too damned drugged up to remember," Mike said.

  "I'll go get them," Laurie said and took Mike's empty plate and glass with her.

  Ron watched Laurie disappear inside the cabin. He then scooted over to the chair directly next to Mike's.

  "What's up, Dad?" Mike asked, noticing his father's sly grin.

  "I like that Laurie."

  "So do I."

  "Do you think she's the one, Mikey?"

  Mike rolled his eyes.

  "Now hold on," Ron said, nipping his son's complaint in the bud. "Your mother and I have been very patient waiting for you to get out there and make us a grandchild. You can't get all mad at us for checking up on your progress."

  Mike shook his head.

  "You two are incorrigible."

  "That hardly answers the question."

  Mike thought of the ring in his pocket.

  "We’ll see,” Mike said.

  His father nodded and stood. “I need to get your mother off the phone. I never should have put one in the cabin. Our phone bills are like the mosquitoes, they get bigger up north."

  Mike was left alone, looking out over the lake.

  It was time.

  He was going to take Laurie out on the pontoon boat right now and propose.

  He stood up and his head swam slightly. Mike opened the sliding glass door and stepped inside the cool, darker interior, waiting for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunshine outside.

  They never got the chance.

  As he started to make out the dim images of Laurie, his mother and his father all bound and gagged on the floor of the cabin in front of the fireplace, he sensed movement behind him.

  There was a brief stab of pain at the base of his skull followed by nothing at all.

  Chapter 81

  Ray mashed the pedal to the floor and watched out of the corner of his eye as the trees turned into a giant blur of green. The road was smooth but twisty and he was forced to alternate between the brake and the accelerator. The cruiser's thick tires gripped the road admirably, squealing in protest on every steep curve.

  He glanced at the newspaper on the seat next to him. As he drove he second-guessed himself with every passing mile. One moment he was sure that Ferkovich would target the actor and the next he was convinced that he was crazy for driving off like this. But he knew there was only one way to find out.

  He tried to put a call through to Krahn but the dispatcher said he was out chasing down leads generated from the Nation’s Most Wanted episode and not answering his cell.

  Ray approached a dirt road off the main highway and slowed as he went by. He just managed to make out the words "Lost Lake Road."

  "Shit," he muttered and slammed on the brakes.

  He slammed the car into reverse, flung his arm over the passenger seat's headrest and backed up to the entrance of the road. Ray turned down the dirt and gravel road and gunned the big engine. The steering wheel began violently vibrating in his hands and he was forced to slow down on the bumpy road.

  He picked up the radio handset and tried Krahn again. This time, he got through.

  "Hey, it’s Ray."

  "Yeah."

  "I don't have time to explain, but I think Ferkovich may be going after the actor who played him on Nation’s Most Wanted. I found a newspaper article in the boat where Ferkovich was hiding. The article listed the actor's parents' address. Ferkovich's prints were all over it."

  "It's a long shot, Ray."

  "I know but I have to check it out. I've got a feeling. Anything else?"

  "Lots of false sightings. From Cincinnati to San Diego. The bastard's everywhere and nowhere at the same time."

  "I'll let you know what I find."

  "I'll send backup."

&
nbsp; "Just wait for my call. I'm almost there now."

  "10-4."

  Ray hung up the handset and checked his watch.

  Through the trees to the left of the road, he could now see sunlight reflecting off a lake. The choppy waves created a moving mirror of water and light.

  He passed a cabin and spotted the address. He was close. Just a few more houses, probably.

  The cruiser nosed down the road, its mounted light looking oddly out of place among the pine trees and log cabins.

  He stopped abruptly at the wooden gate with the sign above it reading "Lost Lake Lodge."

  Ray paused and studied the layout of the buildings. A main cabin with a garage off to the right. A big blue Suburban sat in the driveway. Ray punched in the license plate number and it came up registered to a Ronald Sharpe. Presumably the actor's father.

  Mitchell pulled the cruiser into the drive and rolled slowly past the cabin. He parked behind the Suburban. A thin trail of smoke curled up from the chimney. A pontoon boat gently drifted at its mooring, pushed one way by the wind, then jerked back by the chain holding it to the dock.

  Ray stepped out of the cruiser and shut the door.

  He could see the edge of the porch and noted some dishes on the small table. Leftovers from breakfast, he presumed. Now he knew he’d made a mistake. There was no killer here. He would have to call Krahn back and admit his imagination had gotten the better of him.

  There was a mud room on this end of the cabin and it was to this door that Ray went, knocking softly on the old wood. He looked at the pile of firewood next to the door and tried to remember the last time he'd sat in front of a roaring fire. It had been a long time.

  There was no answer, so he knocked again.

  This time someone called out from inside.

  "Come on in, we're just about to have some coffee!" a woman's voice said.

  He opened the door and stepped inside.

  The smell of a woodfire along with the scent of coffee, eggs and bacon.

  Well, his foolish idea wasn’t all bad. Maybe he’d get a good meal out of the deal.

  It was going to be a long day now that he knew he'd guessed wrong. Ferkovich was still out there somewhere. But he sure as hell wasn’t here.

  Ray stepped through the mud room and got a glimpse of the great room ahead with its vaulted ceiling and natural fireplace.

  Ray stepped forward into the adjoining hallway.

  "Hi folks, hope I'm not interrupt-..."

  He managed to register the feel of cold metal against the back of his head just before he was knocked unconscious.

  Chapter 82

  It was like a victim buffet.

  Joe didn’t know where to begin.

  The bodies were sprawled out in front of him and he hesitated. He wanted the younger woman who was clearly beautiful, voluptuous, and had a fantastic mouth. He could barely control himself looking at her.

  But should he wait? Start with maybe the old lady first? Sort of like an appetizer before moving onto the main course?

  Joe didn’t think he had time.

  Red tinted the edges of his vision and he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. His control was so weak now and his desire so strong that he wanted to wreak havoc immediately and thoroughly. He wanted to leave the walls covered with blood and the screams of women in pain ringing in his ears.

  But he took a brief second to savor the moment. When would he ever be in this position again? He almost laughed. He had the actor who had played him in the television show! This was the kind of stuff of which legends were made. Ted Bundy had never pulled off anything nearly as bold and audacious.

  Joe Ferkovich was going to go down in history as one of the most famous killers of all time.

  But not right now.

  No.

  He would kill everyone here, take the cop’s guns and car and make a beeline for Canada.

  Joe had no idea how he would get over the border but he would think of something.

  He couldn’t stop staring at the young woman.

  It was time.

  Chapter 83

  When Mike saw the killer drag the detective into the middle of the living room, all of his hopes for a quick rescue vanished.

  He still couldn't get over how much the killer and he looked alike. That crazy eye brought him back to reality, though. Mike watched the killer, Ferkovich, kick the detective in the ribs.

  "Now this is my kind of party," Ferkovich said, scanning the room. He noted the wide, terrified eyes of his captives. Mute with fear, their mouths were duct-taped shut.

  "What, did you think you could steal my thunder?" he yelled, raising his arms for emphasis.

  "I'm the star of this show!"

  Mike struggled against the duct tape binding his wrists together. He worked at it ferociously behind his back. The edges cut into his skin, tearing it, and blood dripped from underneath the tape.

  His only hope was that the cop had called someone or that more cops were on the way. After all, why had this detective come here? They'd last seen him at the hospital and assumed they wouldn't meet up with him again. Had the detective figured something out? And if so, wouldn't he have called for backup?

  Suddenly, Ferkovich's voice boomed out.

  "Well, who wants to go first?"

  Mike stopped struggling to get his hands free. He would have to think of something else.

  Mike knew that the killer’s other victims had been sexually assaulted and his blood ran cold at the thought. He looked at his father, but with blood seeping down from his hairline, Mike knew he was in no shape to help.

  He looked across the room at his mother. Her eyes were closed and she was praying. Laurie's face was a pale mask behind the gray strips of duct tape across her mouth and cheeks.

  He had to buy time for the other cops to arrive. He pulled his lips apart as best he could then sucked in a sharp breath of air, catching a narrow strip of duct tape between his teeth.

  And then he started chewing.

  Ferkovich walked across the room and stopped in front of Laurie. He ran a hand along her cheek and then stroked her hair.

  "I think you’ll do, honey. At least, you'll have the honor of doing it first.”

  Mike Sharpe felt the stringy duct tape began to tear under the grinding pressure of his teeth. He opened a small hole in the broad swath covering his mouth and he curled his lips, pulling the hole bigger. Mike looked at his father and saw him struggling against the tape until he toppled over onto his side. Mike caught his father’s eye, and lifted his feet in a kicking gesture. His Dad nodded, understanding the message.

  Mike didn't plan to waste time explaining. The only course of action left was to show his father what he intended and he hoped the old man had enough of his faculties left to do his part.

  Through the hole in the tape, he spoke.

  "Hey Ferkovich," he said, his voice a bit muffled but clearly understandable.

  Ferkovich jumped at the unexpected voice behind him. He whirled and looked at Mike.

  "What kind of nutjob are you?" said Mike. Disgust and hatred seeping through the duct tape. "You’re a coward, tying us up. I'd kick your ass in a fair fight, you piece of dog shit."

  A smile slowly spread across Joe Ferkovich's face.

  "Is that right?"

  He walked over to Mike and stood before him.

  He pulled a revolver from his waistband and swung it at Mike, who ducked, but still caught some of the blow on his head. He quickly felt blood on his face.

  "I think they're going to have to find someone else to play me in the sequel," Ferkovich said and placed the barrel of the gun against Mike’s forehead.

  Mike suddenly lunged forward. His forehead struck Joe Ferkovich directly in the solar plexus. At the same time he swung his feet sideways catching Ferkovich behind the heels and toppling him over backwards. The gun flew out of the killer’s hand and skittered toward the opposite end of the room.

  As soon as the killer landed on his b
ack, Ron Sharpe rolled forward, brought his feet up, and crashed them down on Ferkovich's nose, squashing it and sending blood pouring out of his nostrils.

  Ron brought his legs up again but Ferkovich rolled to the right and avoided the kick. Mike lunged forward but Ferkovich kicked out and caught him on the side of the temple. Mike saw stars and then watched as Ray Mitchell shot forward in a desperate tackle.

  His head butted Ferkovich just below the rib cage, banging against the bigger man's kidney. Both landed in a heap and Ray struggled to get to his feet.

  Ferkovich, dazed and bloodied, rolled again, jumped to his feet several yards from Mitchell and the Sharpe men. He crookedly ran to where Laurie was reaching for the gun. He stepped on her hand and the sound of breaking bones filled the air. He grasped the gun with his left hand and yanked her to her feet with his other.

  "Is this what you wanted?" he said and held the gun to her temple. Her eyes widened in horror and Ferkovich threw her across the room. She crashed to the floor next to Mike.

  Ferkovich stood straight and gasped for breath. He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the blood from his mouth.

  "That's it, you're dead, you're all dead!" he screamed. He stood over Ron Sharpe and pointed the muzzle directly at the top of the older man's head.

  "Age before beauty, asshole," he said.

  A shot rang out and Ferkovich's head bobbed forward as the side of his head exploded and a gaping wound appeared in the middle of his forehead. He swayed on his feet and then dropped to his knees as blood poured out the hole in his forehead. He fell forward and landed on what was left of his face. A pool of blood slowly encircled him.

  Ron Sharpe rolled onto his back and struggled to sit up.

  Ray Mitchell sat up, dazed, and crawled over next to Ferkovich. He sat back and kicked the gun out of his hands then struggled to pick it up. His hands were still taped.

  A figure burst through the mud room door.

  A huge figure. One that Mike Sharpe believed to be a hallucination. It was the same one he had been seeing in his nightmares.