The Bay Area Butcher: (Quint Adler Book 2)

by Brian O'Sullivan

  I heard the blade hit the concrete where my face had just been. Somehow my desperate move had succeeded. And the follow through of his wild swing had taken the Butcher off to the side of me.

  I quickly rose to my feet.

  The cars on the bridge had come to a standstill. A few people had gotten out of their vehicles to see what was going on.

  The Butcher looked down the pedestrian walkway, eyeing some other families who stood frozen, terrified, only a few dozen feet away.

  He ran in their direction. And although he had the weapon, and I had nothing, I followed him.

  I’d proven to be faster again and he realized he wasn’t going to get there first. The Butcher turned around.

  “What do I care about them?” he said. “Let’s end this with you.”

  He lunged at me with the knife, but I managed to lean back and avoid it.

  “Where are the cops?” I heard a woman yell.

  “I can see them approaching the bridge,” someone else yelled.

  A few good Samaritans had exited their cars and were headed toward us, no doubt intending to help me. But I didn’t want to put them in harm’s way.

  This was mine to end.

  The Butcher lunged at me again, leading with his knife.

  I moved my body backward to avoid it. Once he missed, and my momentum stopped going backwards, I charged forward as quickly as I could.

  Swinging and missing threw him off his stride, giving me the advantage.

  I knew he’d raise the knife again, but I could block it with my forearm.

  I bum-rushed him as fast as I could.

  He swung the knife as I’d expected, but I blocked it with just the cost of a flesh wound on my forearm.

  My momentum continued to carry us, as I pushed him with me, four feet until we were flush up against the only rail that the Golden Gate Bridge had to offer.

  After that, it was 220 feet down to an almost certain death.

  I’d heard that they had started building suicide nets, but I had no idea if they had completed them under the spot where I grappled with the Butcher. I didn’t want to find out.

  I pushed him up against the rail.

  My goal was to push him over. Attempting to show mercy might get me killed.

  But he was smart and realized this. He sent his body lower so he wouldn’t go over the side. Instead, his back hit the base of the rail.

  With my left hand, I had a grip on his right wrist, which held the knife. I couldn’t release that. My right arm held his left shoulder. I tried to push him higher so I could topple him over the railing. But he continued to hold his base low, not allowing me to.

  “Somebody help him!” I heard someone say.

  “Which one?” a person responded.

  I couldn’t concern myself with them. I had to finish this myself.

  And I realized the one way I could get the Butcher to raise his center of gravity.

  I kept my grasp on the wrist that held his knife.

  And for a split second, I lowered my right hand.

  And with as much force as I could muster, I brought it back up in the form of an uppercut.

  I connected with the bottom of his chin and it lifted his body just enough. I immediately took my left hand off the knife and joined it with my right hand to push him in the chest.

  He knew he was going over. I saw it in his eyes. As if in slow motion, he went sideways over the Golden Gate Bridge.

  His only chance was to drop the knife and reach out for the railing. Which was what he did. He got ahold of the railing, but the momentum shot his feet and torso over. He now held on to the rail with his body dangling below him.

  It was all but over, and the look in his eyes confirmed that. I looked down below him and couldn’t see any netting to stop his fall.

  Up on the bridge, several cops made their way toward us.

  But I wanted to ask him something before they got there.

  “Why?” I asked. “Why all this unnecessary killing?”

  I had to lean over the railing to see his face where it hung three feet below the Golden Gate Bridge.

  “Is there anything I could say that would satisfy you?” he asked.

  “No,” I admitted.

  I saw his grip beginning to loosen on the rail. Now his expression showed genuine fear. Good. After all the pain he’d inflicted, I was happy to see it.

  “I’m going to be infamous. Forever,” the Butcher said.

  “You’re going to be known as a coward. I’m going to tell the stories of how you were afraid to go at those kids when I stood between you and them with a knife. Whenever you were confronted with someone who was your equal, you ran. You could only kill those who weren’t suspecting it. You are a coward. And I’ll make sure every history book says so.”

  He looked disgusted. It wasn’t the time, but I took some satisfaction from it.

  His left hand loosened some more. He was going down soon.

  “Quint, step aside.”

  I was pretty sure it was the voice of Captain Lockett. But I refused to turn around. I wanted to see this through to the end.

  The Butcher’s left hand slipped off the railing. He tried to hold on with just his right hand, but that was a losing battle.

  And he knew it.

  A few seconds later, his right hand gave way.

  His eyes remained fixed on mine as he started falling through the air.

  I’m glad the last person he ever saw was me. And he knew that I’d gotten the best of him.

  I saw his body hit the water two hundred feet below.

  And I knew it was all over.

  53.

  It had been Captain Lockett behind me.

  He and nine other officers faced me once I turned around.

  No one said anything for a long time. It’s as if we were all absorbing the drama that had just unfolded.

  “Where were you guys?” I finally asked.

  “We all converged on the house in the Presidio. And I guess you had just left. Once we heard about something going on at the bridge, we all headed this way. But cars on the bridge stopped and it created a huge traffic backup.”

  I walked away from the railing.

  Lockett came up and hugged me. I hugged him back.

  “I wish Ray were here,” I said.

  “Me too, Quint. Me too.”

  He looked down at my forearm.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just a defensive wound. A few stitches and I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re a hero, Quint.”

  “Do me a favor. Send the Coast Guard down there right now. Fish out that body. I just want to be certain.”

  “Of course.”

  I looked out at all the people assembled on the Golden Gate Bridge. I heard a few say my name. Others were taking pictures. A few looked shellshocked. It was safe to say that none of them would ever forget what they had just seen.

  And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cara running toward me. A few of the cops stopped her at the edge of the crowd.

  “Let her through, please,” I said.

  She made her way to me and we hugged for what seemed like forever.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you, too.”

  “Is he dead?”

  I nodded. And she hugged me closer.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later,” I said.

  “I don’t care,” she said. “I’m just glad you’re here with me.”

  And then she noticed my forearm.

  “Captain Lockett, can you get Quint to a hospital?”

  “Of course.”

  Lockett looked at the police officers assembled on the bridge. Even more of them had arrived.

  “Guys, I’m going to drive Quint to the hospital. An ambulance isn’t needed.”

  A few nodded.

  “Bring him over to the SFPD headquarters once he’s stitched up,” one said.

  “I will,” Lockett responded.

 
; “You don’t want to stay?” I asked.

  “They’ve got it covered. Plus, I’ll learn a lot more from you than I will by staying here. Follow me, guys,” Lockett said.

  I turned to Cara.

  “Remember when I said we’d be going on a brief vacation along the coast?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And we weren’t going to get out of bed.”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, we will be doing that very soon.”

  She smiled and leaned in and kissed me.

  Captain Lockett turned around.

  “My car is down here to the left. Are you ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.

  And we walked off the Golden Gate Bridge.

  Lockett drove us to the nearest hospital, where they inserted several stitches on my arm. They didn’t seem too concerned.

  Cara sat next to me the entire time.

  I realized the irony of finding myself back in a hospital, being stitched up again. It was how the whole Charles Zane case had begun more than a year ago. And now the nightmare of the Bay Area Butcher was ending with a few stitches.

  At one point, I made the mistake of listening to the television from the neighboring room. I was being called a hero by some news anchor. It’s the last thing I wanted to hear. Hopefully I’d learned something from the aftermath of the Charles Zane case. I was done being a media whore.

  I knew the case would rent space in my head in the weeks and months ahead, but I wasn’t going to contribute to the hoopla or the hysteria. I'd deal with it on a personal basis, not through the media.

  I needed some time out of the public eye. And boy if that wasn’t the understatement of the decade.

  The hospital released me. Cara and I walked out, and the sun was still shining. It didn’t seem right with all that had occurred that day.

  “How are we getting home?” I asked, knowing my car was still at the bottom of a ravine.

  Captain Lockett appeared.

  “From me,” he said.

  “You been here the whole time?”

  “They got you stitched up in forty-five minutes and believe you me, I had plenty of phone calls to occupy my time. You should see the reaction this is getting.”

  “No, thanks,” I said.

  “It’s the lead story around the world. And you are front and center.”

  “I’m turning off my T.V. and my cell phone starting tomorrow.”

  “I can't say I blame you,” Lockett said. “You’re going to be famous.”

  “I don't want it and I’m already tired of talking about it," I said. “Now, can you take us home?”

  “Yes. But I do have to take you to the SFPD first. They’ve got a question or two.”

  “I figured.”

  The interviews with law enforcement were going to be impossible to avoid, but that didn’t mean I had to be happy about it.

  “And the Coast Guard found that fish, Quint. You don’t have to worry about him ever again.”

  “Thanks, Captain.”

  I looked on at my girlfriend. “We did it, Cara. It’s over. And don’t say I did it. We were a team.”

  Tears came to Cara’s eyes at the same time a smile spread across her face. That was enough for me. We’d have plenty of time to talk about all we’d accomplished.

  “Can I borrow your phone?” I asked.

  She handed it over.

  And I dialed a number.

  “Hi, Cara. Did Quint finish his stitches?” a familiar voice said.

  “Ah, so she did call you. I should have known.”

  I heard my mother start crying on the other end. The waterworks were definitely on display.

  “My baby. I’m glad you’re okay,” she said.

  I started to tear up as well.

  “I’m fine, Mom. Listen, we can talk all about this later. What do you think about cooking a late dinner tonight? Cara and I would be coming over.”

  “Of course. What time?”

  I looked at Lockett. “What time is it?”

  “A little after four.”

  “Can I be in the East Bay by seven or so? I’ll be around the next few days to answer more questions if need be.”

  “Sure, I’ll get you there by seven.”

  I turned back to the phone. And realized I was going to need a shower. Maybe more than I’d ever needed one.

  “Mom, we’ll be there by eight.”

  “What do you want to eat?”

  “Surprise me. And Mom, we never took Glenda Kintner to dinner. We are doing that soon.”

  “I’d love to,” she said. “In fact, I hope I’ll be seeing a lot of you in the near future.”

  “You’ve got me till next weekend.”

  “What’s next weekend?”

  “I’m taking Cara on a trip. And we are not going to leave the bed for three days.”

  Cara and Captain Lockett laughed behind me.

  “Quint, this is your mother! I don’t want to hear that.”

  “Bye, Mom. See you at eight.”

  I hung up the phone and kissed Cara. And we kept kissing.

  “Get a room, you two,” Captain Lockett said.

  “Stop pretending that cops have senses of humor,” I said.

  “I’ll give you guys a minute. I’m parked straight ahead.”

  And Lockett walked in that direction.

  Cara turned to me. She looked serious.

  “You saved those kids’ lives, Quint. If it weren’t for you, they’d all be dead.”

  “I told you. We saved their lives, Cara. It was a team effort.”

  “You’re being generous, but thanks.”

  “It’s true,” I said.

  “Do you think we can take a few months off from crime lords and serial killers?”

  She smiled again. I was happy to see we were going in a lighter direction.

  “I don’t know. They seem so attracted to me.”

  “That’s not the right word. They are drawn to you. Out of curiosity. I’m the one who is attracted to you.”

  “Tell me more,” I said.

  “No one, and I mean no one, is more attracted to you than me.”

  “We are going to wear that bed out,” I said.

  “You’re damn right we are!”

  I put my arm around her shoulder and we walked toward Captain Lockett’s car.

  “I love you, Cara.”

  “I love you, Quint.”

  There was nothing more to say.

  THE END

  A note to my readers:

  Thanks so much for reading my novel! You’re a rock star!

  I hope you enjoyed going on this adventure with Quint.

  I’m going to assume you have read the first book of this series, Revenge at Sea! If not, what are you waiting for?

  My other novels include the two-part series, The Puppeteer and The Patsy, featuring the charming, relentless duo of Frankie and Evie. Both books are political thrillers sure to get your pulse jumping.

  And not be forgotten, a personal favorite of mine, the standalone novel, The Bartender. It’s a multi-narrative thriller in the vein of Gone Girl. Only much better :)

  Finally, I’d be honored if you followed me on Amazon.

  Thanks for everything. It’s readers like you who make this all worthwhile.

  Sincerely,

  Brian O’Sullivan