One Kill Away

by Alex MacLean

  Allan found himself wondering what man, what father would want to come back to this.

  Halifax, June 18

  8:46 p.m.

  Allan pulled his car into Seth’s driveway and parked beside a blue Mazda. For a moment, he sat there, looking over the black security grilles covering every window in the house, even the ones on the top floor. He noticed motion lights over the back door under the breezeway.

  Was this his man? Had Seth Connors murdered Todd Dory and Blake Kaufman? Were those two responsible for that deadly home invasion here? Was Lee Higgins involved too?

  Allan stepped out of the car and began walking toward the back door. His cell phone rang. It was Constable Weisberg.

  “I think I lost him, Lieutenant,” he said.

  “What? Who, Higgins?”

  “Yeah.”

  Allan stopped. “What happened?”

  Weisberg breathed into the phone. “I followed his car for nearly an hour. All over Halifax, Bedford, Fall River, Dartmouth. I mean, the guy was just driving around. Going nowhere. I started to get suspicious and had Patrol pull him over. Just a routine stop. Nothing to give us away. Turns out it’s not Higgins inside.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Colton Reynolds,” Weisberg said. “A friend of his.”

  Allan mulled that over. “He might’ve been a decoy.”

  “Don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know how he saw me. I was careful.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Coming across the old bridge.”

  “So, we don’t know if Higgins is home or not?”

  “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it,” Allan said. “Let me know if you manage to see him tonight.”

  “I will.”

  Allan hung up, staring at three brass locks in the backdoor of Seth Connors’ house. He heard the scrape of a footstep behind him, but before he could turn around, the cold muzzle of a gun dug into the skin behind his ear. He felt his phone being slipped from his fingers.

  “Move,” a voice said. “And you’re dead.”

  54

  Halifax, June 18

  8:49 p.m.

  The shudders had stopped. The tears had stopped. And Seth sat there on the living room floor, drained of emotion. He felt dead, an empty shell of skin and bones.

  He saw Lily on the other side of the room, sitting her Barbies around a little kitchen table inside her toy townhouse. Every so often, she looked over at him and smiled. Oh, Christ, she had the most beautiful smile. Just like Camille’s.

  Seth stared at her for a long time. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against the wall behind him.

  Dr. Somerville had been right—post-traumatic stress could do nasty shit to your brain. Alter your sense of reality. Make you hear things. Make you see things that weren’t there. Make you wake up screaming at night. Throw your mind into complete turmoil.

  But the mental fog had lifted and everything was clear now. Seth realized he had avoided facing Lily’s death by creating a false world where she remained alive and he protected her. Protected her from the monsters and predators lurking beyond these walls. Protected her from the men in scary masks. It was the only way he could cope with the guilt tearing him apart. He had let the ugliness of the world come into his house and steal away his baby.

  And when he opened his eyes again, Lily was gone. Gone like she should be. Her Barbies sat around their little table, having tea and cookies, or whatever her imagination had them doing when she last played with them so many months ago.

  The phone rang and Seth looked at the clock on the wall, 8:56. It would be Dana, he knew, calling to check on him. Late by an hour.

  At the fifth ring, the answering machine kicked in. Camille’s haunting voice on the recorded message sounded in the room and it bristled the hairs on the back of his neck. He felt fresh emotion swelling in his chest.

  Dana’s voice shot over Camille’s. “Seth, are you there,” she said. “Pick up, please. Pick up. Pick up. Seth. Pick—”

  The beep cut her off.

  Seth knew he’d better return her call before she hopped in her car and headed for Halifax.

  He got to his feet and went into the kitchen. His pills were scattered all over the counter. A glass lay broken in the sink.

  He picked the cordless phone off the floor where he’d dropped it earlier. As he began punching Dana’s number, he noticed a car roll up in front of the house. It was black with tinted windows and bronze rims. The emblem by the door belonged to Saturn.

  He set the phone down by the sink, staring out through the window. He noticed a navy-blue Impala parked on the other side of the Mazda he’d rented. Two men appeared in the driveway, one walking close and a little behind the other. The man in the lead wore a khaki sport coat and black pants.

  “Stanton,” Seth whispered.

  Fingers trembling, he gripped the edge of the counter. The man in back of him was the guy he’d seen earlier at Higgins’ place—the one wearing the black do-rag. He had on a black leather coat with both hands tucked in the pockets.

  They walked down the driveway and over to the Saturn. Opening the back door, Stanton seemed hesitant getting in. Do-rag prodded him inside and climbed into the backseat next to him.

  Seth glimpsed the pistol in his hand as he reached out to close the door.

  55

  Halifax, June 18

  9:00 p.m.

  The pistol dug into Allan’s back.

  Behind him, the man in the black coat leaned forward.

  “Get the fuck inside, pig,” he said.

  The pulse hammered in Allan’s throat. He closed his eyes for a second and took a long, deep breath.

  The man nudged him again.

  Swallowing, Allan climbed onto the backseat. The upholstery smelled of stale cigarettes. Turned low, heavy metal drifted from the speakers.

  “Move over,” the man in the coat said.

  Allan slid over to the far door, looking at the two occupants in front. The driver had on a red ball cap and a gravel-colored flannel shirt. Lee Higgins sat in the passenger seat, his head tilted back against the rest.

  Allan tried to make himself calm. The guy beside him shut the door. The driver engaged the locks, then hit the gas, pushing everyone back in their seats.

  “Easy,” Higgins said. “We don’t wanna attract attention.”

  “What’s going on here, Lee?” Allan asked. “Kidnapping cops now?”

  The driver let out a laugh. With a slow turn of his head, Higgins looked back at Allan, his eyes narrowed to slits.

  “Not kidnapping you, Stanton.”

  The driver hit the steering wheel with his fist and shouted. “Yes! Let’s fucking do this.”

  Higgins said, “Shut up, Cole.”

  Allan fought the tremor in his voice. “These your new henchmen? Dumb and Dumber?”

  “Cocky for someone with a gun pointed at his gut.” Higgins flicked his eyes to the guy in the black coat. “What if I told, Talon, to shoot you right here?”

  Talon turned to Allan, his face all serious. “Just give the word, Lee.”

  “Nah,” Higgins said. “Too much work. Ever try cleaning blood out of upholstery? We’d have to take the seat out. Burn it.”

  Allan felt cold with fear. He was sweating under his sport coat. Through the windshield, he saw them coming to the end of Oakland Road. Where were they taking him? Somewhere private to kill him, no doubt.

  Cole took a right at the stop sign, heading north up Beaufort Avenue. Daylight was fading. In twenty to thirty minutes, it would be dark.

  Higgins turned around to face the two backseat passengers. His gaze skipped across Allan’s face and settled on Talon’s.

  “I trust you got his gun?” he said.

  Talon nodded. “Of course.”

  Higgins reached a meaty hand over the seat. “Give it here.”

  Talon took Allan’s pistol from a coat pocket and handed it over. Higgins lifted his e
yebrows in admiration.

  “Nice,” he said. “Beretta. I thought all you city pigs used Sigs?”

  Allan didn’t say anything.

  Higgins fixed him with a menacing stare, and Allan saw his own death lurking there.

  “Next time you pigs decide to tail somebody,” Higgins said, “pick a guy who doesn’t make it so obvious. But what else would I expect?

  “I remember your young guys coming in the bar all the time when I used to bounce. Trying to get their little peckers wet. Boy, they thought they were something. Strutting around like their shit didn’t stink. Every night, I wished one of them would get out of hand, just so I could slam their head through a fucking wall. See what they’re really made of.”

  Allan held his eyes. “You hate cops. I get it.”

  One corner of Higgins’ mouth twitched upward and a shadow crossed his face.

  He said, “Oh, it’s more than that.”

  Allan felt the car slow down for a stop sign, then accelerate again. He looked over, realizing they were on Oxford Street.

  “Do you really expect to get away with this, Lee?” he asked. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, Stanton. I do.” Higgins tapped the Beretta against the side of his head. “I’m smarter than you think. We’re here. Your guy in the Expedition is following my car all over the place. We watched him take the bait.”

  “We pulled your car over,” Allan said. “Does Colton Reynolds sound familiar?”

  Higgins blinked, then shrugged it off. “Don’t mean nothing. Just a friend borrowing my car. The thing is, nobody is tailing me right now. Nobody knows I’m here and nobody knows you’re here with me. Your car is back there in buddy’s driveway, not in mine. He’ll have to answer for your whereabouts. Not me.”

  Allan wondered how he could get out of this? It was one man against three. At the edge of his vision, he saw the pistol in Talon’s hand. The butt rested on his thigh with the barrel pointed straight at Allan. Could he get to it? Would Higgins just turn around again and face forward?

  “When you brought over that mask today,” Higgins said, “I asked myself why. You had nothing on me. But you were hoping if I knew anything, I’d go after the fucker who killed Todd and Blake. And you were right. But then I noticed your guy tailing me. And I realized you were really trying to set a trap. Kill two birds with one stone.”

  Allan said, “We had you under surveillance since Blake’s murder. We figured the suspect would eventually go after you and we’d catch him.”

  A broad smile inched across Higgins’ face. “How ‘bout it, boys? Sounds like Stanton’s got a hard-on for me.”

  Cole and Talon laughed.

  “Whatever you say, Stanton,” Higgins said. “I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth. All you fucking cops lie.”

  “Believe what you want.”

  Higgins fell quiet for a few seconds. “We were going to take that fucker out tonight. That’s why we ditched your tail.” He nodded. “Oh, yes. We had something nice in store for him. But then you showed up and I knew you were piecing it all together.”

  Allan stared at him.

  Cole said, “Did you get a load of the guy’s house? What’s up with all the bars?”

  Higgins’ eyes never left Allan’s. “Afraid we might come back. Finish him off. I’m surprised the fucker lived.”

  Allan clenched his jaw. He felt a terrible knowledge creep through his brain. It brought flashes of callousness and bloodstained walls and a dead woman on a bedroom floor with her throat cut.

  “So, you did attack that family,” he said. “You, Todd, and Blake. Broke into their house while they slept. Murdered the wife and the four-year-old daughter.”

  Talon snapped his head toward Higgins. “Wait. Wait. You did a little girl, man?”

  Higgins held up a hand. “No, no.”

  “Yeah, he did,” Allan said. “Cute as a button.”

  Higgins sneered. He leveled the Beretta on Allan’s face and Allan tensed up.

  “I didn’t kill any kid, Stanton,” he yelled. “Hear me?”

  Talon said, “What’s he talking about, Lee?”

  Higgins ignored him. “Todd went into that bedroom. Not me.”

  “Right,” Allan said. “You were too busy trying to murder her parents.”

  “Keep talking, pig. I’ll blow your fucking brains right out that back window.”

  Talon said, “Lee. What’s this about a little girl?”

  Throat working, Higgins lowered the Beretta.

  After a long pause, he said, “There was a little girl inside that house when we hit it. We didn’t know beforehand. Todd made the mistake of going into her room. She was awake.” Higgins’ eyes misted and he blinked several times. “She saw him and tried to run. She fell. That’s all. Todd didn’t touch her. I felt bad when I heard about it. I love kids. They’re the only pure things left in this world.”

  Without another word, Higgins turned around in the seat and leaned his head back against the rest again. Allan watched him wipe his eyes.

  He said, “You know, Lee. There’s still a way back from this.”

  “How you figure, Stanton?”

  “Just let it go. Nothing’s happened here yet.”

  Cole let out another laugh. “What’s this guy been smoking?”

  “He’s trying to save his ass,” Talon said.

  Higgins looked back at Allan, his eyes gone cold again.

  “Nothing’s happened here, huh?” he said. “What’ve we been talking about? You’re just gonna forget all that? Walk away?”

  Allan gave him nothing back but a flat stare.

  Higgins said, “I wouldn’t trust one word from you anyway. No, no. You’re going somewhere nobody’s going to find you. Ever.”

  56

  Halifax, June 18

  9:47 p.m.

  Brian cried against Allan’s chest, softly and raggedly, pausing brief seconds to breathe.

  “I don’t want you to go, Dad.”

  “I don’t want to go either. But—”

  “Then stay here.”

  Allan pulled himself back, holding Brian to see his face.

  “I have to catch another bad guy,” he said. “He’s hurt people.”

  Brian sniffled. “Are you coming back?”

  “If you want me to…”

  Allan swallowed hard over the painful lump in his throat. He remembered watching Brian in the rearview mirror, waving as he drove off for the airport. He remembered Melissa standing in the entryway, telling him how hard it was seeing him again.

  Allan lowered his head. Why had he come back? He’d taken a leave to get away from this underbelly of crime, heartbreak and detritus. Yet once more, he was neck-deep in the middle of it.

  Higgins and his crew had driven around Halifax for nearly an hour. Allan figured they were waiting for nightfall and to make sure no one was tailing them. They took him to an alley between two brick warehouses on the waterfront. The building on the left had windows beginning on the second floor with weak light spilling from them. The building on the right went up four stories of straight brick. A lamp over the side door showed a dumpster beside stacked pallets.

  The area looked abandoned. Allan didn’t see anyone around. No cars. No people. Only an idle cube van sitting at the opposite end of the alley. Beyond it, the opaque city lights glowed yellow, green, and red.

  Cole shut the car off. For a minute or two, they just sat there, no one speaking a word. Allan wondered how he could get out of this. He had to try. He couldn’t simply roll over.

  Higgins broke the silence. “Shit’s about to get serious, boys. We all in?”

  “Yep,” Cole said.

  “Let’s get this done,” Talon said.

  “All right then.”

  Cole leaned into the steering wheel and Allan heard the trunk pop. Higgins jumped out of the car first, then the other two followed. Heart racing, Allan stared through the windshield at the length of alley ahead of him. It was too far of a run t
o reach the street beyond the cube van. They’d shoot him in the back long before he made it.

  Talon opened Allan’s door.

  “C’mon.” He waved his pistol. “Move.”

  Allan had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Stepping out, his legs felt weak.

  Keep calm, he told himself. Look for your chance.

  He could feel cool air drifting in off the harbor water. Murky clouds covered the sky and they leaked a drizzling rain.

  Allan noticed Cole’s empty hands and wondered if the man had a gun hidden under his untucked shirt. He flinched as hard fingers gripped his shoulder. Talon spun him around and prodded the muzzle into his back, pushing him toward the rear of the car.

  Higgins waited there with a charged-up glare in his eyes. He slipped a finger under the trunk lid and threw it open. A tarp covered the entire interior. Chains and two cinder blocks rested on the far side.

  Talon took a step away from Allan, then another. Allan kept his focus on the pistol without directly looking at it. At the corner of his other eye, he saw Cole light a cigarette.

  Higgins stuck the Beretta in his waistband and reached into the trunk. When he brought out an axe and held it up, Allan’s breath caught in his throat. He squared his shoulders, lifted his chin.

  “This was for the other fucker,” Higgins said. “Don’t worry, Stanton. I’ll make it quick for you.”

  Allan noticed Talon lower the pistol.

  Cole continued to smoke his cigarette, his head tilted back, his gaze on the dark sky.

  As Higgins turned back to the trunk, Allan saw his chance. Stepping away from the muzzle, he swung a fist and connected with a bone-jarring blow to Talon’s jaw. Talon staggered sideways, falling to one knee, but managing to bring the pistol up. Allan grabbed the top of it and pushed the barrel away from him right before the metal slide ripped across his palm. A loud bang echoed off the surrounding bricks.

  Allan had never let go of the pistol, but neither had Talon. The two of them struggled over it; Talon trying to keep it; Allan trying to get it away from him. He could feel it working free from the steely grip. Almost there. In his fingers now. Then a huge mass slammed into his body, knocking the wind out of him and sending him to the ground. He heard the pistol clatter on the pavement.