Evil Cries

by Lala Corriere

  Shirley scanned the room. All of her backup hadn’t moved. The sergeant gave her a knowing look that he had her back, no matter what.

  Shirley yelled, “Sacrum! What the hell is that body doing here?”

  The man closed his eyes and held Sterling’s hand, and ring, close to his chest. He took in a deep breath and with a pant, he said, “A man who has given his life to science. It’s really a compelling story.”

  “Marcus! We need to move outside. It’s not healthy for any of us to take in this air. Your wife needs some fresh air. Let us help you both. And your unborn child.”

  The man tucked his legs nearer his body while holding on to Sterling. “That might be a problem,” he said.

  “Sacrum. Marcus. Let’s work this out,” Shirley said, signaling for more verbal backup.

  “This isn’t going to end good unless you work with us,” a senior deputy said.

  Armstrong, as Marcus or Sacrum or both as he proclaimed to be, shook his head. He let go of Sterling for a fleeting moment, only to snatch her body closer to him as he withdrew the Ruger from behind him and placed the barrel next to her left temple.

  “I would rather shoot you, Mommy Dearest, but I see a hell of a lot of guns aimed my way. Disconcerting, I would say. The way I see it, since I know you’re so curious, is that it doesn’t matter if I’m Sacrum or Marcus, and by the way, kudos for figuring that one out—the way I see it is all I want is my White Goddess. I kill her. You kill me. Finally, we will be together.”

  THE SWAT TEAM listened through the outside of the broken-down door, careful not to make noise, as they made their way through splintered and rotten wood. They had only one small window of opportunity, and no time to alert their fellow officers. The stun grenade, a flash bang, had to be dispersed in a small space. It would be a dangerous situation for all.

  Not one officer flinched as Shirley and the sergeant, experienced and somewhat desensitized by the effects of the grenade, seized the brief moment of chaos. The sergeant knocked the gun out of Armstrong’s hand as Shirley grabbed the limp body of Sterling Falls.

  The tactical team moved in, but not before Armstrong pulled out his KA-BAR knife from his white slacks and stabbed it into his chest. The whisper was audible. “I’ll be waiting for you, my White Goddess.”

  “EMTs,” the sergeant ordered. “We need two ambulances here, STAT. Forensics, too. And with some luck, the coroner.”

  Shirley smirked. “I have an ambulance waiting outside. For my daughter. That monster can die, for all I care. Not on the record, but branded on my heart.”

  Chapter 81

  Fleeting Hope

  THE NEXT MORNING GAGE picked Shirley up outside of her Sam Hughe’s home and they headed to one hospital, with three patients to visit.

  The doctor greeted them just outside Sterling’s room. “She’ll be fine. She was injected with a high dosage of morphine. Nothing else was detected. We’re still flushing her system. I’d like to keep her here a couple more days, if only for observation.”

  “What aren’t you saying, doctor,” Shirley asked.

  “I know this case. I know the circumstances and I’m familiar with Dr. Armstrong, although he’s never had privileges at this hospital. If he wanted your daughter dead, he would have known the exact dosage of morphine to make that happen. He knew what he was doing. He wanted her to live.”

  “Now she can live,” Gage blurted out. “May we see her?”

  “She may be sleeping, but I can’t think of anything more healing for her to wake up to than the two of you.”

  GAGE AND SHIRLEY WALKED into my hospital room and found me sitting upright, trying to find the news channel on the television.

  I looked up at my guests and read their teary eyes and absence of words.

  “What?” I said. “I don’t remember much from last night, but surely I made the news for my fifteen minutes of fame.”

  “You can deduct about two minutes off your futures,” Shirley said. “And you can do way better with your remaining thirteen.”

  Gage offered me a gift bag with all the tissues and ribbons. I grabbed it with my pity-party-longing look.

  “Bulbs?”

  “Not just any bulbs, sweetheart. There are twelve of each bulbs for our garden. You have calla lilies, dahlia, amaryllis, and gladiolas. ”

  “But we don’t have a garden,” I said.

  “They’re a symbol of our future and what’s to come, because now we make good on our love and commitments. As soon as I can get you out of here, we can plant them.”

  “I love you, Gage. I’m sorry I’ve been such a shit.”

  “Apparently, you had every reason to behave as such. And apparently, I’m a failure as an artist.”

  “You paint my world,” I said.

  I looked over at Shirley, hovering at the foot of my bed and almost slouched. The pose didn’t become her.

  “Are you okay, I asked?”

  She laughed. “You’re seriously going to lie in that hospital bed and ask if I’m okay. I just need to be doing something and I don’t know what.”

  “Good. I need you to do something for me, Shirley,” I said.

  “Anything.”

  “I’m anchored to all these tubes,” I said, holding up both arms pierced with IVs. “Come over here and take this wretched ring off my finger. Sell it on eBay and give the money to legal aid, programs and scholarships for those Mexicans willing to come here legally.”

  Shirley removed the ring and studied it. “I’m no expert, but I’m guessing that’s a lot of scholarships.”

  EXPLAINING TO STERLING that the doctor insisted she need her rest, they moved on to visit Zoey, one floor above. Sterling kissed both Gage and Shirley before they left her room.

  “She’ll be out of here in a couple days and back home with me. Does that bother you, Shirley?” Gage asked.

  “I admit a part of me wishes she was coming home with me so I could finally be the mother I never was, but it pleases me, Gage. It very much pleases me.”

  “We’ll have you over whenever you want. I’m guessing you have some questions for both of us.”

  “I might as well tell you now there is some good news for you,” Shirley said.

  “Oh boy. I could use some.”

  “Detective Taylor has seen your pieces of art stashed in the wretched stables. It took him an hour to contact his friend, a gallery owner in Tubac. As soon as they are released from evidence, they will be yours again, and you get your butt down to Tubac. No promises, but no false promises. The gallery owner loves your work.”

  “Thanks, Shirley. I didn’t know I needed that, but I guess I did.”

  TWO UNLIKELY PEOPLE took the elevator up one floor and headed toward the ICU wing.

  With the secured door buzzing, they approached the reception desk.

  “Only family,” the nurse at the station said.

  “That’s exactly right,” Shirley said. “We’re her only family.”

  The nurse reluctantly led them to Zoey’s room, or curtained off cubby hole, where an armed officer checked Shirley’s badge.

  Shirley already knew that Zoey still faced medical obstacles. Malnourished, dehydrated, and pumped full of so many drugs the laboratory was still feverishly working to identity them.

  Shirley, prepared for the worst, gasped as she moved toward Zoey’s bed. “My girlfriend,” she said. “My soul sistah.”

  With Gage now the one in the background Shirley reached for Zoey’s weak hand.

  One magical squeeze from The Z.

  “Zoey, we have some crazy stories to tell you, but for now, we got your guy and everyone is safe. You are safe. All the evil has gone home crying.”

  Zoey squeezed Shirley’s hand one more time and Shirley knew it was time for her to rest.

  She turned toward Gage and whispered, “Are you sure you’re ready for our third little visit?”

  “You bet I am,” Gage spoke softly.

  “Then let’s go meet the sunovabitch on w
hat I hope is his deathbed.”

  Shirley asked the guard stationed at Zoey’s door where the prisoner was. The one chained to his bed.

  “It’s the reason I’m here,” the guard said.

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Ma’am. You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what? Did the man die?”

  “He escaped. About two hours ago.”

  Chapter 82

  Dogs Know

  THE NEXT MORNING DETECTIVE Taylor threw up his arms, “How the hell could he have escaped?”

  “It doesn’t make my day. We should be attending Victor Romero’s memorial service and instead we’re chasing a vaporized devil,” Shirley said.

  “Vic’s wife and children postponed the memorial until Zoey can make it,” Taylor said.

  “That’s the first thing that has made any sense to me in months. What about Armstrong?”

  Taylor said, “You know as much as I do. The guy’s photograph is all over the news stations and the Internet. Officers are at the bus depots. He can’t board a plane or cross any international borders. It’s possible he had yet another escape vehicle and is on the road to who knows where.”

  “And that means short of getting pulled over for running a red light, he could be anywhere in the states,” Shirley lamented, her hoarse voice betraying her fear, weariness and anger.

  “Hey, kiddo, one more question and then I think it’s time for you to knock off for the day.”

  Shirley scowled.

  “How is Sterling doing?”

  “She’ll be home with Gage and her ferocious attack dog tomorrow. She’s more fragile than she lets on. Physically and emotionally.”

  “We need to speak with her. She may have an idea where this good Dr. Armstrong might be headed.”

  “It can wait until tomorrow,” Shirley said, as an order rather than a suggestion.

  ONE OF THE GEMOLOGISTS at the store came to my house to help me present my guests, Shirley and Steve Taylor, with a pitcher of margaritas and an assortment of tapas.

  They both hugged me and gave me that look. That, “You don’t look great, but you look better than we thought” look.

  “Where’s Gage,” Shirley asked.

  “He, err, he went on an errand.”

  Taylor stiffened his neck and began pinching the skin at his throat while Shirley’s arms crossed over her chest.

  “Seriously?” I said. “Crime experts that you are? You both saw the new driveway gate going in. And Gage already upgraded our alarm system. He went out to buy a Taser. He said something about applying for a laser-guided gun of some sort. Ridiculous. Neither of us has ever even fired a gun.”

  In unison, Shirley and Steve Taylor both said, “I’ll take you out on the firing range.”

  I shrugged with my sign of indifference about the whole thing.

  Taylor accepted a plate of warm and cold tapas and stretched out in the deep-seated chair. “We need to brainstorm with you, Sterling. Do you have any idea as to where this creep might be?”

  “Why me?”

  Taylor said, “Because you’re the only one we know of to have had recent contact with him.”

  I looked at Shirley and she nodded.

  “Quid. Pro. Quo. First you tell me about the damn dog food.” I glared at Taylor.

  “Me too, Steve. Do tell,” Shirley scoffed.

  Taylor positioned himself as stern and firm, but with a glint of delight in his eyes. “You can bet the department wanted nothing to do with it. Trying to track down an old can of dog food. On my own, I put out some feelers along with a bunch of want ads. I focused on all the local papers in and around Nashville and spread it all over the Internet. No explanation. N o details.

  “I’d heard nothing and damn near forgot about my efforts, but then I got the call. Two daughters were cleaning out their mother’s pantry, and deep in the back, on the third shelf, they found three ancient cans of the locally manufactured dog food we were looking for.”

  “The daughters. They came forward? Why?” I asked.

  “A reward,” Taylor said. “A big reward I was willing to front and I gladly paid.

  “I also paid for the extensive lab tests. Three damn cans of expired dog food. Everyone thought I was a lunatic, including my wife. The first test came back negative, but the next two tested positive for human remains.”

  “I think I’m going to puke,” Shirley said.

  “No you won’t. It was one of your theories from the beginning.”

  “It was a theory,” Shirley mumbled. “Sheesh. Now it’s right up there as being one of the most disgusting realities I’ve come across.”

  I said, “Guess it’s good that horse meat hadn’t yet been approved for human consumption like it is today. You would have gone broke with your samplings and tests.”

  “And gotten fat eating god knows what,” Shirley added.

  Taylor cranked his neck from side-to-side. “Now, Sterling. You’ve heard all there is to tell about the dog food story. I need you to think. Where do you think this sunovabitch took off to?”

  I said, “I’m no expert, but you both know he’s not at his ranch, he’s not at that horrid warehouse, and not near that wretched excuse of a boat. I assume he has no other real estate?”

  “He was pretty good at hiding his interests in regard to that warehouse, but no. We don’t believe he has any other property in his name, fake names, or LLCs.”

  “He has no family that I know of. I guess he’s left his few employees at his clinic hanging out to dry?”

  “Appears that way. It’s clear he wasn’t bringing in enough to cover expenses,” Taylor said.

  “I think he’s back in Nashville, or headed that way,” I said. “That’s where it all started. The medical school and the education that he couldn’t capitalize on. The first girl he took for his trophy. And you all know he wanted skin, even back then, and the whiter the better. I saw the photos of his girlfriend and his first wife. Don’t mess with me now. I know that’s why he wanted me. You both know that’s the only reason he wanted me. My white skin. Could be he’s off to Nashville. Could be he’s waiting for me right here, because he doesn’t seem the sort of man to ever give up.

  “The man is smart. You know that. He’s had his time with me, but now he knows he’s been had. When I think about it, I don’t think he’ll be hanging around here,” I changed my mind.

  “I disagree,” Gage said as he stormed toward our table. “That’s a damn chance I’m not willing to take.”

  He opened up his shopping bag and dumped his treasures on our table.

  “Impressive,” Taylor said, staring down at a Taser C2 and two Glocks, with plenty of magazines.

  “I thought you had gone to register for a gun. I didn’t expect you to go out and buy two off the streets.”

  Shirley produced a wide smirk and knitted eyebrows. “I’ll be off to Nashville by morning. Steve, as soon as I get back we need to take these young sharpshooters out on the firing range before they kill their Earl of Éclair.”

  The Earl jumped onto Shirley’s lap and nestled down between her legs.

  Taylor said, “Dogs know stuff. I get the message. There’s no permit here required for a concealed weapon. Any asshole can carry. I think it’s best I take these guys out to the range tomorrow.”

  Shirley took Steve’s free arm into hers and they left. She said, “We need Zoey back with us, Steve. You know what I’m saying.”

  “I always know what you’re saying, and one up you by knowing what you’re thinking.

  “By the time you get back to Tucson, Zoey’s mother will be at her side. For better or for worse. God bless us all.”

  “By brilliant omniscience once again, you read my mind,” Shirley said to Steve Taylor. “I won’t be gone long.”

  Chapter 83

  Into the Mist

  THE WIFE OF POCKO PEREZ arrived to claim his body. That which was left of it. Taylor stood by her side.

  Her English was good. “What
happened to him?”

  “Evil,” Taylor said.

  “El Diablo,” she whispered.

  Steve thought, Good old American-born evil.

  “But what now do I do?” Pocko’s wife asked.

  “We know who did this. We’ll get him. You take your husband home where you want him to be. If it’s back across the border, I’ll help you return him.”

  “Gracias. I don’t know. I’m so confused. This was to be our new life. We are both hard workers. Pocko was a hard worker,” she sighed.

  HE DISSOLVED INTO A MIST, the fog not guiding him as to whom he would best become. Was he Marcus or Sacrum?

  He huddled against the corner of a deserted building off of Miracle Road and slugged down the bottle of Jack. Like a homeless man, but with the best of booze and a lot on his mind.

  And then it came to him. His strength was nothing but a miracle. He was both Marcus and Sacrum, and they would survive together as one, but not in Arizona.

  STEVE TAYLOR HAD TAKEN both of us out to a private firing range. Although Gage proclaimed he’d fired a gun on many occasions, I knew to doubt it. And I loved him for it, even more.

  We were both plenty inept at handling the weaponry, but we laughed, had some laughs with Taylor as he laughed at us, and we got the feel of handling and firing a gun. I blamed my poor aiming on my weakened state, and then both men plopped me down onto a bench and asked me to try again. I failed to hit my target.

  We all drove over to the Three Palms for a well-deserved beer and some great appetizers, but only after Taylor walked us through more gun safety. I knew more about guns than how to choose the right bra size.

  “We did good, didn’t we, Taylor?” Gage asked.

  “Good for any wildlife you may want spared,” Taylor laughed. “Next time, maybe we’d have better luck with me taking you out fishing.”

  “Not a good idea. I’m worse as a fisherman than a marksman. Now get me on a sailboat and I can take the helm.”