Blessed swung those mad burning eyes toward Joanna. “Oh, no, the bitch will do as I say.”
Joanna brought the gun up slowly, very slowly, and she aimed it at her head.
Savich shot him.
The force of the bullet knocked Blessed against the wall, sending a picture thudding to the floor beside him. As he slid down the wall, he stared hard at Savich. He looked momentarily bewildered before he slammed his palm against his shoulder, and his mouth opened and closed as he watched the blood ooze bright red between his fingers.
Tammy Tuttle’s face was bright in Savich’s mind. This man was as mad and dangerous as she had been, and he knew he should kill him because he would never stop, never. But he slowly lowered his SIG.
Sherlock ran to Joanna, took the gun, stuck it in her belt, and shook her by the shoulders. Autumn kept hitting her mother’s arm. Sherlock yelled right in her face, “Wake up, Joanna!”
Tears streamed down Autumn’s face as her fists flailed at her mother and she cried over and over, “Mama, come back, come back!”
Sherlock continued to shake her until Joanna blinked, her eyes finally focusing on Sherlock’s face. She looked dazed, but she was herself again. “What happened? Autumn? Where are you?”
Autumn clasped her mother around her waist, squeezed hard, and whispered, “Dillon shot Blessed. It’s going to be all right now. Sherlock, you’re sure Mama’s okay?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Sherlock said, and hugged the two of them against her. She saw Dillon jerk the case off a pillow, watched him drop to his haunches and apply pressure on the wound.
Blessed was moaning in short gasps, deep in his throat, obviously hurting, and that was fine by Savich. His eyes popped open, and he stared up at Savich.
“How did you do that?”
“Sounds like a question for your guru, Blessed. Press your palm hard over this pillowcase, and the chances are good the bleeding will slow. Don’t press hard enough and you might bleed to death right here in the sheriff’s guest bedroom. I doubt anyone would feel sorry about it.”
Joanna walked to stand over him, but she didn’t look at his face. She looked at the blood smearing his hand and kicked him hard in the side.
He moaned, tried to spit at her but couldn’t. “I stymied you. I should have had you put that gun in your mouth right away and—”
“When you stymied me? That’s what you call it? I felt you, you bastard, trying to make me crazy, trying to make me see and feel horrible things. I should have walked in here shooting. I should have emptied my gun into you.” She kicked him again, in the ribs, and he gave a long, lovely cry of pain. “You got anything else to say, you monster?”
He looked at her hard, but she still didn’t raise her eyes to his face. “Look at me, woman!”
“Forget it, Blessed, or I’ll shoot you again,” Savich said. “You should step back, Joanna.” He looked up to see Ethan standing in the bedroom doorway, his two deputies behind him. “Ethan, could you call 911? We’re going to have to do this carefully, blindfold him so he doesn’t attack anybody else. I’ll ride in the ambulance with him.”
Joanna said, “Stymie. That’s what this pathetic worm calls what he does to people’s heads.”
“Stymie,” Ethan repeated, as if tasting the bizarre word. He went down on his knees beside Blessed, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and tied it around Blessed’s head, covering his eyes. “Try to take off the blindfold, Blessed, and I’ll kick you from here to the Sweet Onion River.” Only then did he dial 911. Faydeen answered on the first ring, as Ethan knew she would. Whenever she was on call for 911, she walked around with her cell phone clipped to her bra.
“Sorry to interrupt your lovely Tuesday evening, Faydeen, but we need an ambulance out at my place. We got Blessed Backman here, and he’s got a fresh bullet wound in his shoulder.”
“Good going, Ethan. Hey, why didn’t you kill the miserable bug?”
34
WHEN ETHAN CLOSED his cell he said to Savich, “Faydeen wants to know why you didn’t kill the miserable bug.”
Savich said, “I seriously considered it for a second, but I had to let it go. Sorry.”
Ethan shook his head. “We can’t kill him now, dammit. I mean, I’d like to, but I can’t, you know? Now we even have to keep him safe. All right, we’ll deal with it.”
“He couldn’t stymie Dillon,” Autumn said. “Dillon’s like me. We’re—what’s the word, Mama?”
Joanna patted her. “You and Dillon are gifted, thank heaven. You’re both special in a very good way.”
Autumn appeared pleased with that. Gifted. Savich realized it was a good word, the right word, and Joanna had taken a giant step in understanding her daughter’s gift to think of it in that way.
Savich rose and looked down at Blessed. He felt Sherlock’s hand on his arm and placed his hand over hers, squeezed. “We got him, sweetheart. It’s over.”
Joanna looked at him now. “He looks so ordinary. That makes him even scarier.”
That was the truth, Savich thought. They listened to Blessed moan and curse, and, strangely, ask for his mother. Sherlock pulled him away, said quietly, “You remembered, didn’t you, Dillon? You remembered when you got close enough to Tammy Tuttle you saw her clearly. She couldn’t fool you like the others. She couldn’t—what does Blessed call it?—she couldn’t stymie you.”
He nodded. “Yes, I remember. I guess it makes sense.”
“No,” Sherlock said, shaking her head, “it doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any sense.” She drew in a deep breath. “You lucked out.”
Savich shrugged. “Fact is, there wasn’t a choice. He was going to make Joanna kill herself. I had to stop him.”
Joanna said, “That much power in this paltry little man, it scares me to death. Thank you, Dillon, for my life.”
Savich smiled at her.
Ethan said, “Joanna, you don’t look woozy or disoriented. Actually, you look okay. How do you feel? Headache?”
“No, no, I’m fine, don’t worry, Ethan.” She sounded surprised, and vastly relieved. “Maybe he didn’t have enough time with me.”
“Possibly so,” Savich said thoughtfully. “Okay, later, when we get this squared away, I want you to tell me exactly what you felt the moment you looked at his face, his eyes.”
She nodded. “I can do it now—fact is, I don’t even remember looking at him, not at first, but it didn’t seem to matter. Do you know, I was certain I’d shot him, that I’d fired my gun, dead-on. For whatever reason, he wanted me to believe I’d pulled the trigger. But I hadn’t.” She looked down at Blessed again, at his blindfolded eyes, and kicked him one more time, on his leg. He jerked and gasped out, “You damned bitch, I’m going to have you roast yourself, have you hop right into a bed of coals, get you ready for hell.”
Joanna said, “Yeah, right, you pathetic monster. You’ll be the one heading to hell, leading that family of yours.”
Blessed gasped out, pain and anger in his voice, “Martin was my family. Is he in hell?”
“No, because he saw your evil and he escaped from it, from you and Grace and your mother.”
“I’ll bet you killed him, murdered him.”
“No, I loved him, but since you’re crazy, I’m sure you’ll believe what you want.”
“You burned his mind! You burned him up, made him nothing, like you. You’re weak and stupid, Joanna, and that’s what you made him. You’ll pay for that.”
Autumn yelled at him, “Mama didn’t burn up my daddy’s mind; his mind was wonderful. Don’t you call my mama weak and stupid!” She kicked him with the toe of her sneaker.
Joanna pulled her back, gave her a quick hug. “Good shot.”
They listened to him curse her, one good meaty curse, then another, then his head lolled to the side.
Savich watched him for a moment and said, “I’ll wager that if we took the blindfold off him you could look right at him and he wouldn’t be able to do anything. He’s too weak n
ow to focus, to affect your mind. On the other hand, I could be dead wrong.”
Savich said to Blessed, “You’re awake, I saw you twitch. You’d best pay attention, Blessed. You’re bleeding again because you’re not pressing hard enough. Get yourself together if you want to live.”
Blessed licked his tongue over his lips, managed only one faint curse, and moved his hand back to his shoulder.
Joanna said to Savich, “You should have killed him, Dillon. What will happen now?”
She might be right, he thought. Faydeen was right to worry, because there was no way Blessed Backman would crawl through the courts blindfolded the entire time—he could hear the defense attorney screaming at the judge how they were torturing the poor man, denying him his basic human right to face his accusers. Well, it was too late now. Ethan was right, they’d have to deal with it.
The bedroom was soon full to overflowing with deputies, everyone talking, everyone avoiding looking at Blessed’s face, even though he was blindfolded and seemed to be helpless, like a snake with no fangs.
Sirens blasted through the night, growing closer. Savich said, “I’m going with him. I’ll be sure all the EMTs know to keep his blindfold on, and why. I’m going to scare them.”
35
IT WAS CLOSE to midnight before Sherlock and Savich were tucked in bed at Gerald’s Loft, snuggled close because the temperature had plummeted the instant the sun had fallen behind the mountains. Despite the late hour they’d turned up, Mrs. Daily, bouncing with excitement, wanted to feed them.
Sherlock reared back and punched him in the arm.
“What? Hey, what’s that for?”
“I don’t care what you say—you took a big chance, looking that madman in the face.”
Savich pulled her down on his chest. “You know I had no choice.”
“Yeah, that gets you off the hook, but I know you, Dillon, you were testing it out.”
She knew him well, he thought. He said mildly, stroking his hand through her hair, “It really wasn’t all that big a risk, Sherlock.”
“Yeah, right. You jerk.” She punched him again, but she didn’t have any leverage because he was holding her against him.
He laughed, grabbed her hands, and kissed her. “That roasted corn on the cob was delicious, particularly the couple of ears snuggled down in the coals for a long time. The kernels just fell off into my mouth—no gnawing at all.”
She said against his mouth, “Yeah, make me laugh, try to distract me. That only works with Sean, and then it only works sometimes.” She bit his neck, then kissed him. “Now that Blessed is safely put to bed at the hospital, so to speak, what’s next, Dillon?”
“I want to check in on Blessed tomorrow, see when he might be stable enough for transport to Quantico. I want him where we’re really in control. Then I figure we’ll go down to Bricker’s Bowl, Georgia, meet Sheriff Cole, Mrs. Backman, and brother Grace. Children of Twilight. I wonder, are the Backmans running this cult with Whistler? Or are they subordinate? And where does the money come from, and flow to?”
Sherlock said, “I hope those bodies they buried weren’t cult members they’d finished bleeding dry of what they owned, or who wanted out.” She sighed, drummed her fingertips on his chest. “Dillon, there’s so much going on. We’ve got to attend to Lissy and Victor.”
“I think we’ve got some time, two, maybe three days while Lissy’s still mending from surgery, before they show up again. I’ve been working with MAX, checking out any possible real estate they could have access to outside of Winnett, North Carolina. The cops are looking for them there, along with the FBI and the state police. Not much else to do until they come out of hiding.”
“Happy thought. You know she’ll come dancing to Georgetown to kill you.” She tapped him lightly on the nose. “You know what I’m thinking?”
That was not a business tone of voice. Savich stared up at her and waited.
“I’m picturing fractal art in my head—all wild colors and chaos and unpredictability, so I’m thinking a smart woman should take her opportunity while all the bedlam’s still outside the door.”
“Yeah? What opportunity?”
She leaned down and kissed him.
36
ROCKINGHAM COUNTY HOSPITAL
NEAR TITUSVILLE, VIRGINIA
Wednesday morning
“Sheriff Merriweather, I simply don’t understand any of this. You say this man—who, by the way, is not only older than I am but is also too weak to even open his eyes—is so dangerous he has to be blindfolded at all times or he will somehow hypnotize me?”
“If he wants to, yes. You and anyone else who looks at him.” And, Ethan thought, I’ve told you this three times now, you idiot.
“And I’m telling you it’s simply not possible for a person to somehow take over another person’s mind. And keeping his hands strapped down to his sides so he can’t pull off the blindfold—come on, Sheriff Merriweather, don’t you think this is a little over the top?”
Well, yeah, the blindfold and the tied wrists did look like they were over the top, or maybe they looked just plain crazy, but he had to try to make this man understand, or what chance did they have of keeping Blessed in the hospital, much less ever getting him to trial? “Dr. Truitt, listen to me. You need to trust me. We must take every precaution with this guy. I can tell you I’ve already seen him hypnotize three different people—he took them over completely.”
A gray eyebrow went up a good two inches, and Ethan’s frustration burst into the stratosphere. If he couldn’t convince this doctor, how could he convince anyone of the monstrous danger that was Blessed Backman? “I know you think I’m exaggerating, I wouldn’t believe me either, but the fact is, I’ve seen what he does with my own eyes. You’ve spoken to Dr. Spitz, heard the stories my deputies told him. This man was this close to making Mrs. Backman kill herself.”
“Isn’t Dr. Spitz a country doctor, a general practitioner?” Ethan heard the smooth touch of condescension in Dr. Truitt’s voice.
“And you think he’s been duped, right?”
“No, no, surely not, but all this nonsense about instant hypnosis, people killing themselves through suggestion—”
Ethan could see the future stretching out in front of him, constantly explaining and justifying himself, trying to make people believe what Blessed Backman was fully capable of and fully prepared to do to anyone who got in his way or could be of use to him. He said, “I’m going to keep him blindfolded, because the minute the pain meds kick in, the minute he’s able to concentrate and focus, he’ll be at it again, and trust me, you don’t want to be on the receiving end. So you fully understand, he brutally murdered a hiker yesterday in Titus Hitch, left him for animals to savage.”
Dr. Truitt looked shocked. Ethan watched his tongue whip over his bottom lip. “Do you have proof this man was responsible?”
“Yes,” Ethan said, lying cleanly.
Dr. Truitt looked at him for a long moment, then simply shook his head and looked away.
Ethan hardened his voice. “He does look helpless, doesn’t he? No threat at all. All right, Doctor, consider this an order—keep this man blindfolded at all times; keep his hands tied down at all times. I’ll have deputies here around the clock to make sure that happens. All he needs is a single second to pull off the blindfold, and it’ll be over.” Ethan raised his finger, cocked it like a gun, pointed it at the doctor, and pulled the trigger. “He might kill you if he’s able, or make you murder someone else, a colleague or a nurse.”
Blessed moaned.
Dr. Truitt jumped, cursed himself for being so suggestible. Since he knew Ethan was watching him, he calmly took his patient’s pulse, raised the blindfold even though Ethan was standing right beside him, and checked his pupils. “He’s still out of it. If there is anything to this hypnosis business, he can’t do much if he’s still unconscious. The surgery went well, and his wounds, both of them, should heal. With rest, he should be okay.”
“
There’ll be a team of FBI physicians coming tomorrow, medical and psychiatric,” Ethan said. “If he’s well enough, they’ll begin testing him.”
“What sorts of tests?”
“I assume they’ll evaluate him, physically and mentally, to see if there’s a consensus on when he’s ready for transfer. I expect you and all hospital staff to cooperate fully with them.” He took Dr. Truitt’s arm, shook it lightly. “Listen to me, this man is more dangerous than you can imagine. I know now he looks about as dangerous as a toothless old dog, but he’s not, Doctor, he’s the most dangerous human being I’ve ever met in my life.”
Ethan could see Dr. Truitt still wavered. He knew if Joanna were here, she’d bitch-slap him. It made him smile. Dr. Truitt said, “As long as your FBI personnel are cleared by the chief of staff, I’ll cooperate with anything I think ethical. As long as this man is my patient, his welfare is my primary concern.”
Even though Ethan wanted to punch him out, this little speech was a start. He nodded. “Give me a call if there’s any change at all in his condition. My deputy Ox Cobin is going to stay in this room with him. And by the way, Ox is one of his victims. You want firsthand information, you ask Ox.
“Ah, good timing, Ox. Come on in. Blessed is still out of it, but he moaned a couple minutes ago. You know what to do.”
Ox nodded as he brought in a huge easy chair with an adjustable footrest. “Nurse Lowery loaned me the big man’s chair. He’s on vacation in Croatia.”
Ethan smiled. “You’re feeling fine, right?”
“Yep, but I’ll tell you, Ethan, I’m hardly even going to look at that little man, even all tied down, even with a blindfold over those mad eyes of his.”
Dr. Truitt harrumphed, turned on his heel, and left the hospital room.
Ox watched his progress out of the room. He said thoughtfully, “That’s going to be everyone’s reaction—doctors, lawyers, judges, laypeople—you know that, Ethan.”
The FBI Thrillers Collection: Vol 11-15 Page 83
