by J. D. Allen
She backed off, heart pounding as she made her way through two backyards and settled behind a covered boat to wait for the fireworks. Her watch read 9:01.
She cleaned under her nails. Missed a bit of blood from the business with the homeless girl, Cat. She bit her lip and counted back. Number fifteen.
Her whole body shuddered with a tingle of pleasure as she remembered the rush of that struggle. That little thing fought harder than most of the men Sophie had X’ed out.
Seemed the drifter was far cleverer than Sophie had given her credit for. It was an actual fight. There’d been no drugs for her. She had to subdue the girl with a chokehold and split open her midsection instead of her throat. Messy. Very messy. The hotel room would never be the same. Oh well. She only needed it for a few more hours.
Sophie wiggled her toes inside the combat boots. They were a half size too big. Stupid tank should have blown by now. She stood and peeked over the back of the boat. The distant streetlight helped her make out a thin trail of smoke as it danced up the side of the house. No one would be alarmed by it. That house was empty. Neighbors on the far side were out as well. Everything was going her way. It wouldn’t be long.
She sucked in a deep breath as she sat cross-legged and closed her eyes, visualizing a perfect future with Danny. The mountain house was amazing. They would enjoy peaceful, sunset dinners on the deck overlooking the valley, chilled wine, and the scent of the little blue flowers out by the lake. The positive visualization made her smile.
The PI will be coming for you, stupid. You had to go and hire him.
“Shut up. That’s under control,” she whispered through clenched teeth.
What if he doesn’t care about that waitress?
“He’ll still try and save her. Him and the police.”
Your plan has holes in it.
“All plans have holes in them. Ever watched a movie? Of course you have. I suppose you’ve seen every movie I’ve ever seen.”
You will fail. Just like you have always failed.
Sophie opened her eyes. She had to eliminate that chattering. She wanted to be free of that voice forever. She should stop engaging, ignore it.
How stupid can you be? I am part of you. I know you, your thoughts, and I know your failures … all of them. So many of them.
Sophie closed her eyes again and imagined making a toast with Danny while laughing over some overly decadent dessert. He loved plums, so it would be something plum.
The voice started laughing.
Louder.
And louder.
46
Jim made it through the shower in record time. He was pulling on his pants when the bell rang. His front door. No one used the front door. This time he would have a shirt on. He had a couple clean black T-shirts left in his drawer. That was about all. Not that he cared.
She knocked again as he got to the bottom of the stairs.
“You impatient”—he opened the door—“Agent Webb?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.” She pushed by him, scanning the surroundings. Her training was probably better than his. She’d have found the back hall, assumed it lead to another entrance.
“I’ve been out of town a lot.” He was not sure why he felt the need to justify a bachelor’s state of living.
She turned by the kitchen counter. “I’m aware.”
Annie rushed onto the counter to investigate the new arrival. Webb bent down and let her smell her face. Annie approved and gave a fine flick of her tail.
“That’s Annie.”
“After Annie Hall or little orphan?”
Jim huffed. “Oakley. Annie Oakley. She was a tough little kitten. You think I’d name a cat after a character in a play?”
She shrugged. “You knew it was a play. And you have a pretty, long-haired, female cat. Not exactly fitting the macho image of a rugged PI.”
“Of course I knew it was a play. I went to school.” He decided to ignore the blow to his image. “Everyone had to sit through at least one mind-numbing middle school performance of that god-awful thing.”
She laughed. Her face lit up. It made him glad she was here. Hated that. He needed to get back to business. With a hand motion he offered her a seat at his kitchen table. She took it.
“Beer?”
“Haven’t eaten, better not.” She pulled out her note pad.
“Water?”
“So I called into the office and asked for everything they could find on Maria Callas. We should get a call soon.”
After putting a warm bottle of water in front of her, he sat across from her and showed her what he’d found. Not much. But he had been able to generate the fake social security number she’d been using as Maria.
“They probably already have it, but … ” She texted the number to someone.
“So what all can you search that I can’t?” He wasn’t sure what data they could really get these days, post 9/11.
“Stuff. Taxes, banking.”
“Can you find her phone number? Maybe trace it from her mother’s phone? Assuming her mother called her after we visited.”
She shook her head. “TV FBI can do that. I need a warrant or at least a subpoena.”
Ely could track the phone number if they had it. Of course, that was supposed to be by consent too. But Jim was fortunate to have the freedom of not worrying about playing by the rules and not having to deal with the government restraints.
“We need this all above board, Bean. We have to be able to produce evidence that stands up in court.”
He knew that. “It amazes me that she’s killed at least ten people and we still need to build a strong case.”
“She’s been clean, given how messy the crime scenes are. It’s like she’s great with the crime itself, but then turns around and makes horrible decisions about how to go about daily life. She doesn’t really fit a serial killer profile. She just kills when and where she wants. I think it’s usually associated with the end goal of becoming a better woman for Dan, but not always. Either way, she’s gonna implode when Dan doesn’t live up to her expectations. Hell, I don’t think she can live up to her own expectations, not sure how she expects a kidnapped man to do so.”
Jim’s phone chirped. It was Miller’s ringtone. He grabbed it off the counter. “Talk to me.”
“Fire across the street from the safe house.” Miller sounded out of breath.
Webb’s phone rang.
“Fire at the safe house,” Jim said to her. Back in to the phone. “We’ll be right there.”
47
The little fire finally generated enough heat for the tank to exceed its tolerance levels. The liquid of the propane turned to vapor faster than the release valve could handle it. The explosion was louder than she’d expected. The wave from the blast reached her even behind the boat. It blew the hair from her shoulders and made her scream just a little. The sensation thrilled her to her toes.
As people started moving toward the house and the fire, she crept around to the other side of the cul-de-sac. The officer from the front porch of the safe house was in the driveway of the burning garage. Something else exploded. She almost squealed in delight to have the help. Joy. It was elusive in her world, but she felt it as the house burned.
She reached the next-door neighbor’s yard. They were outside too, in their driveway, keeping their child close. No one was looking her way as she skirted through the backyard. Someone else came out of the house as well. A big black man she’d not seen before. He ran toward the burning house. Must have medical or fire experience. No one else ran towards danger. They were banging on the doors, yelling, looking for signs of any possible occupants. By her best judgment, that would leave Dan and possibly one other cop in the house. It was time.
She jumped the short fence, her mind racing and her heart pounding. How would he take seeing her? It wou
ld be a shock. She had to remind herself that he would need time. She’d read plenty on Stockholm syndrome. She had all the time in the world to stick to the plan.
She emptied a potted plant from the back porch as she passed and made her way to the small bathroom window on the far side of the house. It was cracked open a bit. In her narrow experience, men like some air while they make a major bathroom transaction. They certainly don’t want to leave the noxious aftermath of a big dump for others in an impersonal environment.
She jimmied the screen off and pushed the sash open as far as she could with her feet on the ground. The sill was too high for her reach to get it all the way open. But she would manage. She set the planter upside down under the window and was then able to work it up a few more inches. It was just enough.
She knocked a candle off the back of the toilet as she climbed over. She stood stock still and waited, listening. Only distant clamor from the fire. No noise from inside the house but the yelling from the excitement across the street grew by decibels as she opened the bathroom door.
She peeked into the hall. The kitchen and part of the living room looked abandoned.
Even though she preferred a knife fight, she gripped her blade in her left hand and pulled out the gun she’d bought last year. She took lessons for that as well. A little time and a good instructor and a girl could become proficient in about anything these days. Instructor said she was a natural.
She eased around the corner. As expected, all the occupants were looking out the front window, including the old woman in that same rolling office chair she’d used to wheel herself around the rest home. It was odd, but this was Danny’s mother. She’d always been independent, strong-willed. Sophie had liked her for that even though it sometimes felt intimidating to a girl with few opportunities to express such qualities in her own world.
No way was she good enough to outshoot a cop, but she was smart enough to take one by surprise. She had a plan for that too.
She pulled one of the smoke bombs she’d bought off the paintball supply website. The things produced a huge amount of smoke in about twenty seconds. She pulled the pin and left it just inside the living room entry, backing away.
First to the hall was the female cop. Sophie tripped her as she ran past the hallway opening. The cop fell to her knees, losing her advantage. Sophie knocked her in the head with the gun handle and then used her blade to slice her tight throat. Sophie caught her slumping, jerky body.
Using the wall for support, Sophie eased the convulsing officer to the ground. Blood bloomed from the neck wound. She sucked in, inhaling the steely fragrance as the stain swelled and made its way down the woman’s chest. The pathetic woman struggled to reacquire her dropped weapon, but her heart had slowed so much she had no ability to complete the intended movement. Blood was exiting her brain too fast.
Number sixteen.
She stood when she heard the heft of the front door slam into the wall. Danny came through, shouting about the fire department. He stopped suddenly. Looked at the body through the smoke and then up to Sophie as she loomed over her kill.
“Holy mother fuck, Sophie.” He didn’t look particularly happy.
That was expected and, frankly, part of the plan. Surprise always worked in her favor. She drew and pointed the gun at him. “Come with me.”
“You really are insane.”
“From you, that hurts, Danny. You’ll understand. It’s time to go home.”
He turned and tried to back away, but the move did little more than back him against the kitchen counter. He was trapped.
She needed to be quick. The old woman rolled her chair into the area. Sophie pointed the gun at his mother.
“What do you expect to happen here?”
Sophie held up her free hand to calm him. “You’ll understand everything soon.” She pulled the auto injector from its pocket on her nifty vest and stepped toward him. “Turn around.”
He didn’t.
“I will shoot her.”
As he turned, believing her words, he kept his head facing his mother as long as his strained muscles would allow. Sophie hit him with the big dose as soon as he was facing away. She got him right at the base of the neck under his ear. Her aim was good and she was sure she hit the carotid.
“I’m not going to do whatever it is you want me to do, Soph.”
He said it the way he’d used to, back in Texas when she was a kid. Hearing him say it took her off guard. Made her weak in the knees. Her stomach fluttered. There had to be a chance for them.
“Let’s go, Danny. It’s time.”
“I’m not going.”
“What is this mess all about?” His mother was looking at the dead cop.
Danny eased in front of her. “Nothing, Mom. Go read your articles.”
“Is there a fire here too, Danny?” She pushed herself off to the side, her chair rolling where she directed it with her dangling feet. “Something’s wrong with Miss Edwards, Danny.” She rolled right up to the cop, her wheels making tracks in the fresh blood. “We should do something.”
“You do as Danny says.” Sophie motioned with the gun toward the back of the house. “We’re all going that way anyway. Move, Danny.”
“Don’t hurt her. She’s so out of it today, she won’t even know you were ever here.”
Having his mom there to manipulate him with made things a little easier. It was all working out much better than she’d expected.
“I have no intention of doing that. If you come with me, you and I will be on our way and she’ll be fine.”
“Promise?” He pushed his mother toward the living room, the chair leaving an interesting pattern of blood behind. The cops would love that.
“Do you? Promise? You’ll come with me?”
He nodded. His eyes were starting to glaze a bit. She needed to get him moving before he was too out of it to handle.
“I’d like some tea. Where’s Stephen?” She looked toward the stairs “Stephen, we have company. Come make us some green tea!”
“Hush.” Sophie still had the gun pointed at Danny, who shook his head. “Back up to me. Hands behind your back, but close together.”
He stood there.
“Don’t make me do something you won’t be able to recover from.” She let the gun’s business end sway slightly toward his mother.
Man, that made him mad. He glared daggers her way. While he was making his mind up, her internal clock was thumping hard. She pushed the pistol close to the momma’s head.
His face softened in resignation, marking the moment he understood it was best to follow her instructions. They needed to move fast. Back in the hotel room, she’d started a big loop in a tie wrap and attached it to her vest with a little duct tape. Now it easily yanked off when she needed it. She slipped it over his clasped hands and drew it in. When it was close to snug, she tucked the gun under her arm and used both hands to quickly yank it tight.
“Let’s go.” She pointed to the sliding glass door.
He lifted the safety bar with his foot and opened the glass. She followed. He stumbled a bit taking his step over the threshold.
Before she made her first step into the night, something slammed into the back of her legs. The impact was a hard blow to the back of the knees, like she was taken down in judo class. Her toes went tingly and she felt herself fall backward and over his mother’s lap. Sophie landed uncomfortably and twisted onto the floor.
Dan turned. He tried to do something, but his bound hands and altered state made it impossible to do much more than fall on his knees.
Blows rained down on her head. Sharp, spiky pain lambasted her as she tried to stop the old woman. Four more good blows with the wood spoon landed on her head. Her temple smarted, but adrenaline was pumping. She didn’t want to kill the woman after she’d promised Danny. He was doing what he said, even if it wa
s because he was tied and drugged.
“Stop.” Sophie tried to get up, but the crazy woman swatted her straight across the cheek. It stung like hell.
“Enough.” Sophie grabbed another of the injector pens from a vest pocket and pressed it into the bony leg by her head. The old woman howled.
“Mom!” Danny got up.
Sophie met him and shoved him toward the backyard. The fire truck was getting close. The last of the sand had slipped through the hour glass.
“Go. Go.” She pushed him.
“My mom … ”
“It’s just tranquilizer, she’ll be fine. I didn’t shoot her.”
“Bitch!”
It was slurred. She forgave him for saying it at the moment. All he needed was time. Right now, this was traumatic, painful. For them both, really. Like a new life coming into the world. It was the birth of their new life. Nonetheless, they needed to hurry. Everything would be fine in time.
She looked back as the other cop rounded the corner of the kitchen. He was wide-eyed and sweating. Young.
She pushed Danny down and raised her gun. He had drawn his, but it was by his side. He seemed somewhat confused, looking over the scene, which made him a little slow to find his target. Stupid cop. Sophie was not slow. She inhaled and took an instant to aim and squeezed that trigger as she exhaled.
Bang.
She’d aimed for the chest, but managed to hit him square in the face.
Number seventeen.
The old woman lay in the doorway behind the faceless man. With any luck she would die. A dizzying wave of nostalgia threatened to ruin her plan.
Dan grunted. He was losing it. She pulled him from the ground and ushered him on. He was almost too groggy to make it on his own. His anxiety had expedited the onset of the drugs. She pulled him past one more house and then she caught sight of the van down the block. Her heart was thundering and her body pumping with adrenaline. She gave a look back to see if anyone was following.
