by Mary Nealy
“Does he seem capable of this?”
Paul shook his head. “He’s young. He’d have been in his late teens when I was on the force. He’s a known quantity. Not with a missing past like most of the men at the mission. I don’t see how I could have done him damage and now not remember him.”
Paul looked up. “He’s always been Louie Pike, if you know what I mean. He’s accounted for. No name change, no gaps in his history. His face looks the same now as it did in his teens. I’d recognize him if I’d run across him before. Plenty of paper on Louis Pike. So if I hurt him or arrested him, he’d be in here, listed by name.”
“And he’s not.”
Paul shook his head.
“It almost seems more likely it’s someone like McGwire,” Keren said. “All that silence. The way he dresses and looks, that full beard. Even the way he keeps his head down, it’d be a good disguise.”
Paul stared into the distance. Keren was sure he was thinking of the interactions he’d had with all these men. “If he’s faking then he’s never missed a note. He’s a great actor.”
“Listen, while we’ve got a second …” Keren didn’t want to mess up this moment when they were trying to solve this crime and save a life, but she had to say something. “I didn’t come down there on Higgins’s order.”
Paul turned his eyes on her. Cop eyes. Detached, analytical. Rude. “It’s the job, I get that.”
“Higgins suggested it, but I’d already decided I wanted to hear you preach.”
“So showing up had nothing to do with solving this crime.”
Keren narrowed her eyes at him. “Every breath I take involves solving this crime, Paul. And it had occurred to me that I might be able to sense Pravus if he was down there. But I would have come anyway.”
The coldness wavered. Keren thought she caught just a glimpse of hurt.
Before he could mask his feelings, she added, “You saw what happened with Roger.”
Paul’s expression relaxed. He nodded. “I saw.”
“You can’t believe that was part of being a cop. Yes, I was hoping I could pick Pravus out of the crowd, but—”
“The FBI wants you to carry this phone, Morris. It’s more easily traceable than the one you have.” A uniformed officer held out a cell phone to Paul.
“I can’t figure out how to run this dumb thing,” Paul grumbled as the young officer walked away. He sounded like a pastor again.
The tension eased and Keren managed a smile. “You’ll be fine.”
Paul tapped away at the buttons with his brow furrowed. “Have you tried simply concentrating on each file?”
“I can’t get a sense of anything from them. I’ve tried.”
“You’ve never even told O’Shea about this, have you?”
She shrugged. “No, and it’s embarrassing to sit and try to vibe out a demon while I’m holding paper in my hand like it’s some kind of Ouija board. But I’ve tried.”
“Tried what?” O’Shea returned.
“Tried nothing.” Keren had to stifle a groan at the stack of files her partner carried. “Good grief, you want us to go back to considering all those?” Keren turned to glare at Paul. “What were you, the Energizer Bunny of cops?”
They got back to work. As soon as it could possibly be declared night, Paul was ready for the stakeout.
“It’s five o’clock.” Keren held him off. “We can’t even conceal ourselves until dark. No way is Pravus going to strike in full daylight.”
“I’m going to the same frog pond we staked out last night.” Paul went back to combing through files.
Keren could see Paul was pinning everything on being there to intervene when Pravus surfaced with LaToya. A small army of cops was going to sit a vigil on every green space and body of water near the Lighthouse Mission.
When the sun was finally low enough in the sky, O’Shea stood up and pulled on his suit coat. “I’ve got my own water hole to stake out. I’m making the freak do some real police work for a change.”
“Freak?” Keren asked, though she had a pretty good idea.
“Dyson. I can’t decide if he’s psychic or psycho. I bet he lives in his mama’s basement—alone.”
By tacit agreement Paul and Keren teamed up, and, at nine o’clock, they gathered some supplies before they abandoned the musty halls of the precinct station and headed for the park in Keren’s car.
“Paul, you know we’re just guessing about this location.” Keren badly wanted to lower his expectations. He had a battle-weary cop’s view of reality and the redeemed heart of a Christian. The combination ought to make him the toughest man walking the planet. Even with all that, he was going to be devastated if LaToya turned up dead.
“Even if we get him, she might already be dead,” Keren reminded him gently. “Dr. Schaefer said Juanita was killed very close to the time her body was dumped. But the findings could be off, especially since she was in the water so long. She could have been killed wherever Pravus was hiding then brought directly to the fountain.”
“You don’t have to tell me it’s a long shot.” Paul settled lower in the seat with a pigheaded look on his face, as if he expected her to hit an ejector button to get rid of him.
“We need to leave the car off a ways and slip in close.” Keren pulled into a parking structure a couple of blocks from the park. “We have to figure Pravus will be very careful about dumping her.”
“How about we hunker down in those bushes you ran into last night?”
Keren glanced at him, grateful he didn’t add, To get away from kissing me. “Sounds good. I brought a thermos of coffee, a couple of waterproof sheets, and two blankets.”
“I hope it’s good,” Paul said. “Strong coffee like we make at the Lighthouse Mission, not that wimpy stuff you and O’Shea like to drink.”
With an inelegant snort, Keren gathered her blankets from the backseat. “Like you’ve never had coffee at a police station. We drink it burned and black. I can’t believe there’s a cop in the city with any stomach lining left.”
They quit talking as they neared the park. The gang problem had abated some in recent years. The park was still a known hangout for them, but the trouble usually started later at night. In the settling dusk, it was deserted.
Keren felt foolish climbing into the twenty-foot-square thicket of stunted trees. If anyone was around, they were busted, because the park was very open.
They studied the area around the pond. The park swept away in three directions. Keren looked down a grassy slope that didn’t often see a mower. The setting sun was forgiving to the sparse grass and the litter. The green expanse was broken occasionally by rusty playground equipment and decorative plantings that had been hardy enough to survive the neglect that so often plagued the South Side. The city was close at hand on the side they’d come in on.
Paul whispered, “Do you have a good range of vision?”
“Yes, I just hope Pravus doesn’t decide he wants to hide in the bushes. These are the only ones, and it will get real crowded in here with the three of us.”
“If he does climb in, he’ll be within grabbing distance.”
“If he’s coming to this pond, he’ll probably come in from the street. There’s no place to park nearby. Let’s sit back-to-back so we can see in all directions.”
Keren laid her ground sheet down and they settled in to wait among the prickly branches. They didn’t dare talk above a whisper. As night fell, the land around them began to move. Keren marveled at the life in the little park. It seemed like a place of neglect and danger that would probably be best plowed up and cemented, but there was life here. Squirrels, creatures Keren would have said lived on nuts, began eating in the mounds of refuse scattered around the park.
“They’re hardy little things, aren’t they?” she whispered.
“What?” Paul turned around.
Keren said, “Look at ‘em all.”
“In the middle of all this concrete and traffic, who’d think there was s
o much wildlife.”
While they watched, pigeons came down in hordes from the buildings around the park and settled into their night’s feasting. Rabbits hopped boldly around the open area, belying their reputation for being skittish.
“Oh yuck, look.” Keren pointed at several rats that scuttled out of the alley.
“Big deal,” Paul murmured, too close to her ear for comfort. “They’re a link in the food chain. Anyway, what’s a pigeon except a rat that can fly in your window? What’s a squirrel except a rat with a more socially acceptable tail? What’s a rabbit—”
“All right. I get your point. They’re a big, fat, ugly, disease-bearing part of the circle of life. I still hate ‘em.” They fell silent and watched.
After a time, Paul said, “Look at the way they’re eating the grass.”
“What?” Keren focused more analytically on the animals.
“They’re spread out all around that knoll over there.” Paul pointed to the top of a rise at the far end of the park. “I wouldn’t have thought they would graze. Maybe the rabbits …”
Her spine chilled. “It isn’t normal. They’re all over.”
Keren felt, more than saw, Paul shrug. “I suppose the animals that adapt to urban life are the ones that learn to eat what grows in urban areas.”
The animals’ presence distracted Keren from thinking about the futility of the night. The unlikelihood of Pravus showing up here was demoralizing. Sitting in a bush all night was a waste of time. But Paul needed to do something, and if being in a thicket like a two-hundred-pound jackrabbit helped him, she’d stay. The minutes ticked by, and the weight of Pravus’s threats pressed on her like a physical thing.
“Let’s switch sides,” Paul whispered. “I’m starting to be hypnotized by all this grass. If I could watch the traffic it might keep me alert.”
“Okay.” Keren glanced at her watch. She was trying not to watch the minute hand creep around. The slowness was maddening.
They settled in again, and Keren was just fighting off the urge to look at her watch again to see if it’d been two hours or two minutes when they heard the first rumble of thunder. Keren groaned. “Rain. That’ll make this real pleasant.”
Paul didn’t respond. The wind came first with a few light gusts, then it began whipping up. Lightning danced across the sky. Keren pulled a blanket around herself and handed Paul one.
A bolt of lightning lit up the park. Thunder rolled and the storm drew closer.
While they shifted around, Paul asked, “Do you suppose these bushes are the tallest things around?”
Keren growled at him, “Thanks. I hadn’t considered being struck by lightning.”
“Worrying about it oughta keep you awake anyway.” Paul laughed softly, and, as if to reward his teasing, the lightning became wilder, the thunder exploded around them, and the wind cut through, even with the small copse of trees and bushes to protect them.
Keren was no longer so concerned with their voices carrying thanks to the pounding thunder. “You know, if he were coming, this weather might change his mind.” She watched all the night animals desert the park to seek shelter. Because she was watching them so closely, she was completely focused when, at the top of the rise at the far end of the park, lightning flared and silhouetted a man against the buildings. A man carrying something that looked very much like a body in a loose-fitting white dress.
“That’s him!” She threw off the blanket. “C’mon.” She ran. The lightning flashed again and she saw him. He was setting the bundle down gently, almost reverently. He fell to his knees beside the body as if to pray before the world went dark again. Keren did her best to set a world speed record.
Paul came alongside her. She hissed, “Do you see him?”
“Yes!” Paul passed her.
The thunder and lightning were coming at the same time now. Another bolt of lightning showed the man with his arm reaching high in the air over the body. Until now Keren and Paul had been running silently, hoping to close the distance between them and the killer.
But they were out of time. Paul shouted, “No!”
Keren reached for her gun. She’d have to shoot uphill and run at the same time. And if her bullet went wild, who knew where her shot might land.
The man held his hand high. He looked toward the sound, maybe unsure if he’d heard a voice in the crashing thunder. He saw them, and, when his eyes landed on them, Keren knew it was Pravus. The demonic evil in him washed over her until she wanted to cry out with fear. Instead, she ran straight into the face of evil, prepared to fire if she had to.
The man held his hand aloft. When the next bolt of lightning brandished, Keren felt the palpable cruelty as Pravus laughed over the wicked thunder. LaToya was clearly illuminated, lying motionless at the top of the slope. Pravus looked at them, as if to be sure they were watching, then he slashed his weapon down with brutal force.
Keren cried out, even as she knew it was too late. “No! Please, no! No! No! God!” She fired her weapon, aiming for the ground just off to the side of her target.
As his arm descended, Keren’s shot diverted Pravus’s attention for a split second. Or maybe it was her prayer.
LaToya, who a moment before had seemed as still as death, wrenched herself sideways, and Pravus’s killing blow missed.
Paul shouted, “She’s alive!”
Pravus screamed and grabbed at LaToya. She threw herself sideways until she rolled down the hill from him.
Paul and Keren were closing the distance fast. Pravus screamed in frustration and leaped to his feet. He threw the weapon at LaToya, in one last desperate attempt to be granted the victory of killing her. Keren fired again and Pravus turned and fled. Paul got to LaToya’s side first. Keren slid to her knees beside them. LaToya lay unmoving on her side; a sculptor’s chisel protruded from the center of her back. Blood flowed from the wound. Keren shouted over the storm, “Call an ambulance!”
As she knelt there, scrambling to find a pulse, she felt the ground turn to life under her. LaToya’s body crawled with something living. Keren realized something squirmed under her. The sky lit up and she saw frogs—hundreds of little frogs crawling and hopping over every inch of the ground.
Paul shouted, “I’ve got a heartbeat!”
Their eyes met over LaToya’s battered body. Paul snarled, “Give me your gun.”
“My job, Rev. Call for backup and get an ambulance out here.” Keren jumped to her feet and ran after Pravus.
“Keren!”
Keren shouted over her shoulder, “Don’t let her move. That chisel might have hit her spine.” She ran in the direction Pravus had gone. She could feel him. She knew unerringly which way to go. She shouldn’t go after him alone. It was completely against procedure, but she couldn’t stand to let him go without pursuit. Stopping him was too important.
The park ended in a rundown neighborhood that led to Paul’s mission.
Keren dashed up an alley that vibrated with Pravus’s presence. Normally she would have slowed down and gone into the pitch-black alley carefully, but she heard pounding footsteps ahead, still running. She came out the other end of the alley, ran across a deserted street, and disappeared into another alley. She thought she caught sight of movement ahead of her. She picked up her pace. As she came out of the dark bowels of the back alley, she heard a car roar to life through the next alley. She ran across the street and dived back into the darkness, putting every ounce of strength she had into getting there, getting her hands on him, getting off a shot, at least getting a look or a license plate. She barreled out of the alley, and twin headlights bore down on her.
Unable to stop her forward motion, she hurled herself up. The car hit her feet. She landed with a bone-cracking thud on top of the car. She rolled, bounced on the trunk, and slammed onto the unforgiving pavement. With a sickening snap her skull hit concrete. Tumbling, she clung to her gun until she stopped.
With pure willpower, she rolled onto her belly, focused on the disappearing car,
and fired at the rapidly disappearing vehicle. No light shined on the license plate. She heard glass break and a taillight went blank. She unloaded her weapon at the car, then it skidded around a corner, and in the streetlight she made out the shape of the lights and the silhouette of the car, a sedan. Dark. Four doors.
They’d said the car Murray was driving was a dark-green Malibu. Keren thought this might be it.
It sped around a corner, and Keren shoved against the pavement, to go after him.
She made it as far as her knees before her head began to spin. She stared at blood dripping onto her hands and had a vague idea that it wasn’t a good sign.
She was only distantly aware of the lightning and thunder as the storm broke and rained down on her collapsing form.
Paul couldn’t leave LaToya’s side. He gave the 911 operator directions with his cell in one hand while he tried to stem the gushing wound in her back and hold her still with the other. An ambulance siren sounded in the distance.
“Hurry,” Paul prayed as he carefully avoided touching the chisel, afraid he’d make it worse. How could it be worse? He laughed harshly. It wasn’t a sound he’d heard come from himself for five years. But he recognized that cynical cop laughter well.
He felt something crawling inside his shirt but he didn’t have a hand to spare for himself. The creeping feeling of the trapped frog seeped into his guts and filled him with loathing.
The blinding lights of the ambulance swept across the park. Following Paul’s careful directions, it drove straight out onto the grass and sped toward them.
LaToya’s pulse was weakening. Her breathing was so shallow he had to lean right next to her mouth to hear it. The rescue squad skidded to a stop. Paramedics raced toward him. He thanked God for the rapid response. They pushed him aside. He yelled instructions about the chisel.
“I’m here with a police detective. She went after him,” Paul shouted at the first responding paramedic. “You have to keep it quiet that she’s alive.” He grabbed her arm and shook the poor woman until she threatened to belt him. Then, knowing he had her attention, he said, “The man who tried to kill her is the serial killer who blew up that building last week. He’ll come after her if he knows she’s alive.”
