by Unknown
She felt the knife in her palm.
She pulled it out to a spray of blood and stabbed him once more before the killer suddenly relented. Pressure released from Avery’s body. A groan escaped his lips. His eyes fluttered shut and he slumped over.
Avery lay on the ground beside him, gasping for air.
Ramirez ran up, soaked from the water and a gun trained on their attacker.
“Let me see your hands! Let me see your hands!”
When he realized the man was unconscious, he checked his pulse and wounds.
“Avery, you all right?”
Avery nodded and rolled up with a painful grimace.
“I’m OK,” she whispered. “How’s he?”
“He’s alive. Looks like he’s losing blood fast.”
“Finley.” She pointed. “Check on Finley.”
Thompson appeared on his radio.
“Officers down,” he called. “Officer down. I’ve got two officers down. Suspect is down. We need an ambulance right now.”
CHAPTER FORTY SIX
Two ambulances and a slew of police arrived at the same time.
Avery was able to walk slowly if she regulated her breath. She and Ramirez wordlessly remained by Finley’s side; his situation seemed bleak. At one point, Avery feared he was no longer breathing. When the EMT workers appeared, they shared dreadful looks.
Thompson stood over the shooter. Medics nursed his wounds and kept the suspect alive while multiple officers from the A15 looked on.
“We need divers,” Avery instructed. “He dropped a large bag in the water, right under that area of the bridge. It might be a body.”
“I’ll get on that,” one of the officers confirmed.
“We’ll escort you to the hospital,” another offered.
Avery shook her head.
“I’d rather you ride along in the ambulance with our guy.” Avery motioned. “He’s dangerous. My partner and I will escort you from behind, just in case he tries anything.”
The killer was cuffed, surrounded by police, and he lay unconscious in a pool of his own blood. Thompson raised a brow.
“He needs an escort?”
Something about the large shooter continued to keep Avery on edge.
“I loaded him with bullets and he still came after me. We had the element of surprise and he still nearly killed us all. He could be faking,” she said and glanced at him, “or he could recover at any moment. We treat him as live and extremely dangerous until he’s behind bars.”
*
The drive to the hospital was uneventful.
In the emergency ward, the man’s wrists and ankles were chained to the bed. Thompson took fingerprints and headed to the office to scan him into the system. One of the A15 officers stayed in the emergency room while the doctors worked.
Avery sat in the waiting room outside of the killer’s room, her thoughts on Finley and his brave—yet stupid—lurch out from the highway to protect her.
She called Ramirez.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Right below you. Fourth floor. Mass General.”
“So close and yet so far,” Avery mused.
“How’s our suspect?”
“Still in surgery. Doctors say it’s fifty-fifty. How about Finley?”
“Same. Doesn’t look good. You OK?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “How are you?”
“I’m still here.”
A long pause followed before Ramirez gushed: “You’re incredible, Avery. You know that? Despite everything that happened, you did it. You were right about this guy. Everyone thought you were crazy, but you were right. I’m amazed by you.”
The praise sickened her.
She shook her head.
“I was too late,” she spat. “He killed that fourth girl.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I know.”
“You spoke to the divers?”
“No… I just know.”
In the early hours of the morning, Avery went down to see Ramirez in person. He was slouched in a chair of the waiting room, eyes closed and head in his hand. At her arrival, he roused himself and offered a wane smile; Avery was still dressed in her hobo costume.
“Nice outfit,” he said.
Avery smiled back, but a slew of emotions welled up inside of her at that moment. The long night, Finley in critical condition, and yet another possible dead victim made her realize she was all alone and needed support: a hug, a kiss, the gentle feeling of a man’s arms around her.
Not any man’s arms, she thought. Ramirez. I want Ramirez.
She opened up for a hug.
As always, Ramirez didn’t disappoint. Up on his feet in an instant, he allowed her to melt into him.
*
At eight ten in the morning, a call from the A15 confirmed that a body had been dumped in the river, a girl with weights and a number of fish tied to her body. Avery silently mourned a victim she never knew but couldn’t save.
Eventually, one of the doctors appeared.
“Your prisoner must have some past,” he said. “There are healed wounds all over his body: gunshots, knife slashes, burns, you name it. Looks like he’s been through a war. The only time I’ve ever seen anything like that is with veterans. Is he a soldier?”
“We don’t know,” Avery replied.
“He’s one tough customer. Shot six times, stabbed twice, and nearly drained of all his blood and he’s still alive.”
“When can I talk to him?” she asked.
“That’s the crazy thing,” the doctor said. “He’s up now. We’ve been in surgery for almost three hours. He was pumped full of enough anesthesia to down an elephant, but he’s awake. Just staring at the ceiling but conscious and with strong vitals.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Nothing.”
“Can I talk to him?”
The doctor raised his brows.
“You can try.”
Avery stood up and pushed past him.
Inside the recovery room, an A15 officer was practically asleep on his feet.
“Give me a minute,” Avery said.
“Thanks,” he mumbled and headed out.
The man lay in his hospital bed, covered up to his torso. Multiple bullet wounds had been wrapped. Blood showed through some of them. A bandage also bound his neck. His eyes were closed but he seemed to be breathing steadily.
“Are you awake?” Avery asked.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Who are you?”
No response was given.
“Where are you from?”
“Lots of different places,” he explained.
His accent was foreign.
“When did you first come to Boston?”
“Fifteen years ago,” he remembered.
“Did you kill Henrietta Venemeer?”
No answer.
“Did you kill Catherine Williams…? What about that girl on the beach? What about the girl in the river? Did you kill them? Have you killed other people?”
Silence.
“Where do you live?” she asked. “What do you do?” she demanded.
The beep of his heart monitor was the only response.
Avery shook her head. He’d probably been up all night preparing for the murder. Leave him alone, she thought. He’s done for tonight. Get him when he’s fresh.
“You targeted my daughter,” she said. “Why?”
A smile came to his face.
“She’s pretty,” he whispered. “Not my type, but pretty.”
“Why have you done all this?” she demanded. “What was it for?”
But he wouldn’t answer any more questions.
Avery grabbed the bars of his bed and leaned in close.
“You’re finished,” she growled. “You shot a cop. You dumped a body in the river. You’ll be in prison for the rest of your life, or dead, or worse.”
He smiled back, his ey
es glazed over, almost as if he looked forward to it. She could see the insanity shining in his eyes and it terrified her. It penetrated her soul. It was one more look, she knew, that would make up her tapestry of nightmares.
“But I’ll always be a part of you,” he said. “When you close your eyes, you will see me. And that is enough for me.”
He smiled wider, his eyes glazing.
As she saw that look, his expression, she suddenly knew that evil did exist. It truly did, as a separate force in the world. And that, more than anything, terrified her.
She had to look away. She knew if she stayed there one more minute she would strangle him herself.
She turned and hurried from the room, the sound of her shoes echoing in the hall. There were other monsters out there, she had to remind herself. She couldn’t spend anymore time with this one.
There were one too many monsters trapped in her mind already.
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
The drive home was filled with regrets.
If I’d only shot to kill, Avery realized, I could have saved Finley. If I’d figured out his name and address earlier, I could have saved that last girl.
No matter how many times she reviewed the night—the boat coming in, the angles of the shots—it was already over. Everything had played out like it was supposed to play out, Avery realized. She just couldn’t accept it.
She called Thompson.
“What do you got?” she demanded. “Who is he? Where is he from? Why did he do it?”
A long silence came, followed by a sigh.
“Perp’s name is Samuel Juanez. Worked in her store, years back. No record. Not a blemish. Everyone who knew him said he was the friendliest employee they’d met. Never any problems. Not one.”
Avery gasped and let it sink in. It was too much. How was it possible?
“Not one red flag?” she asked.
Silence. Then:
“Not one.”
She fumed. It was unfair. Unjust. How could human nature perfectly disguise such a monster? What did that say about all the other perfectly normal people functioning all around her?
Somehow it would have been better if there had been signs. Any signs.
The normalcy of it all was what struck her with terror.
“Let it go,” he sighed. “You did a good job. You caught him. You defied orders and put together a team and caught the son of a bitch responsible for murdering four women in our town. You were right. Take some comfort in that and move on.”
How can I move on? she lamented.
The darkness and injustice of it all sickened her. They had put away a mass murderer, and without a word of explanation.
He was about to hang up.
“Thompson?” she called out.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for tonight. You really came through. I won’t forget that.”
“You came through,” Thompson pointed out. “I won’t forget that, either.”
Angry and without any way to absolve her anger, she imagined herself in an empty landscape of darkness and the unknown.
You’re not alone, she thought, not now, at least. Let it go…
How? she pleaded.
She thought of a life with Ramirez, taking a ride on his boat, laughing with him at dusk and allowing herself to finally give in to love.
You can’t control what happens on the job, she began to understand. Someone else is in charge of that. But you can control what happens in your life. You can fix your relationship with Rose, and tell Ramirez how you really feel. Stop wasting precious time on the job and issues you can’t control, and work on your life for a while, and the things you can control.
She called Sullivan.
“You still on duty?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, “I’m outside the safe house right now.”
“You can let Rose go,” Avery said. “If you don’t mind, maybe just drive her back to school and see she gets into her dorm? Tell her I’ll be by later to check in. Her father is probably losing his mind. Have her call him.”
“I can do that,” he said. “Heard you caught your guy. Who is he?”
“I wish I knew,” Avery whispered and hung up. “I wish I knew.”
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later, Avery was back in the hospital with a bunch of flowers for Finley. He wasn’t himself. He was sitting up in bed, but his spirits were low. He greeted her without fanfare, with little more than a nod, before he turned away.
“How you doing?” she asked.
“Not good,” he said.
Avery had heard it all from the doctor. His spine had been bruised; walking would be difficult, and he took a bullet to the lung. He might never be able to run, or breathe the right way again. It all depended on his strength of will, and his therapy, but the signs were there: if he gave up and didn’t do exactly what the doctors told him to, maintaining his position as a police officer in one of Boston’s most prestigious departments would be difficult.
“You’ll be back in no time,” she assured him.
“How do you figure?” he asked.
“You used to be in a gang, right?”
“Maybe I still am,” he mumbled.
“They gave you a hard time when you wanted to be a cop, right? But you did it anyway. You went against everything you knew and all your friends to do what you believed was right. That took a lot of guts. That same kind of courage is going to get you back on your feet and in the precinct in no time. I just know it.”
He looked away.
“I wish I shared your enthusiasm,” he mumbled.
“I brought you some flowers.”
“What the fuck am I going to do with all these flowers?” he complained and glanced around at a room filled with roses and dandelions and sunflowers.
Avery leaned into his bed with a mischievous grin.
“I also brought you a bottle of whiskey,” she whispered.
Finley’s eyes lit up.
“Really?”
Avery pulled a bottle from under her jacket and slid it into the bed.
“You’re going to be here for a while, right? You’re a cop that typically lives on booze. What better motivator to get up and get your PT completed than some liquid fire?”
He went glassy at the sentiment.
“Thanks, Black. I appreciate that, really.”
“You drew the fire away from me,” she said. “That was really brave.”
“Really stupid,” he said and shook his head. “I’ve always been like that. Act first and think later. Fuckin’ stupid. My mother always told me something like this would happen if I didn’t calm down and think before I act.”
Avery sat with him for a while. They hardly spoke. Finley had no desire to entertain and Avery had no desire to upset him.
“Fill me in,” he eventually mumbled. “Anything new on the asshole?”
“Thompson and I went around to all the places where he was supposed to have worked or gone to class. They knew him. Everyone knew him. They said he was very gentle. Soft-spoken and kind. Never once got in an argument with anyone. Made me think of all those people you meet that seem happy on the outside, but on the inside they’re really miserable, and you never know it until they commit suicide or ask for a divorce. He probably harbored a lot of anger and no one ever knew, and it just came out at the kill sites.”
Finley shook his head.
“Fuckin’ freaks.”
*
At the A1, Avery walked through the first floor and headed to the offices in the back. A quick check of her watch revealed the time: one o’clock. Punctual as always, she thought.
Sloane Miller was excited to see her.
“Hello there,” she said. “Come on in.”
Avery sat on the couch and took a sip of coffee.
“How you doing?” Avery asked.
“I’m just fine,” Sloane replied. “How are you?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s like we were talking about las
t week. Everything is going well. I’m having lunch with Rose today. The case is closed, a new case just opened, but I’m feeling a little anxious, and sad.”
“That’s normal,” Sloane replied.
“How so?”
“Well, you just ended a major chapter in your life. You’re onto a new chapter. While it’s good to move on, sometimes we need to mourn the past, and mourn the person we were in that moment. That’s often a slow process. It takes time.”
“Yeah,” Avery said. “That’s how it feels. Like I want to cry all the time.”
“Crying is good,” she replied. “Gets things out. Let’s us move on.”
Avery nodded.
“Good,” she said. “That’s good to know.”
They remained quiet. Avery could hear the tick of the clock in the room. Sloane had her hands in her lap and waited patiently for Avery to speak. When the silence went on for over five minutes, Sloane cleared her throat.
“Is there anything specific you want to work on today?” she asked. “It’s nice to stay focused, and to use the time we have to target problem areas. An analogy I like to use is this: we open the box here, and then, when I’m not around, you can rummage around in the box all you want, and at least you know what needs to be seen. What needs to be seen, Avery?”
Ramirez was the first thought that came into her head.
“Relationships,” she said. “I’m terrible with relationships. I keep screwing them up.”
“Why do you do that?”
“They just never seem as important as work.”
“Maybe they’re not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe you need someone that lets you be who you are. Someone that doesn’t mind you’re always working. Someone that loves you for you.”
The idea didn’t feel right to Avery.
“No,” she said. “I’m selfish. I know that now. I spent all my life running away from my past to get to some magical place where I could feel happy. First it was law. Then it was the police force. It’s about time I stopped running and start to grow some roots. For that to happen, I know I need to give something up. I’m ready to give something up.”
“Then maybe you just haven’t found the person that you’re willing to invest in, someone that makes you want to cut back on your hours at work or whatever it is you’re willing to give up. Someone you want to change for.”
