BEFORE HE NEEDS

by Blake Pierce

  The pain wasn’t too bad, honestly, but it seemed to be everywhere. She was bleeding enough so that she could actually smell it.

  Worry about where you’re hurt later, she told herself. For now, get this asshole under control.

  Already, he was getting to his feet. The broken glass had done a number on him, too. His face was cut in four different places and a deep cut on the underside of his arm was dripping blood down to his hand and off of his fingers.

  He threw a punch that she blocked easily. She then took the arm she had blocked and twisted it hard. He dropped to a knee right away, howling. As she pushed him forward and bent the arm further back, he used his other arm as a club of sorts. He drove his elbow into the meat of her upper thigh, causing her to stumble backward. The pain there was immense. She couldn’t figure out why at first but then looked down and saw a shard of glass sticking out of her pants. The area was sticky with blood and she somehow hadn’t even noticed it.

  Apparently realizing that he was not going to win a fight against her, Decker made his way down the porch steps. He nearly fell in his escape, buying Mackenzie perhaps two whole seconds to push past the pain in her leg.

  Realizing that she wouldn’t be an effective runner with the wound in her leg (the glass still sticking out of it), she summoned up her strength, took one running stride, and then launched herself into the air just before she reached the first step.

  Decker looked back just in time to see her before her full weight landed on his back. She fell on top of him and when he struck the ground she could literally feel the air leaving his lungs from the impact. He wiggled beneath her but a quick elbow between the shoulders put a stop to it.

  She knew she had him under control but honestly just couldn’t stop herself. With him pinned beneath her, his face planted into the ground, she delivered two vicious punches to his upper back. She heard the gasp as the wind flew out of him and a surge of pain raced through him.

  She pinned his knees to the ground with her own knees, applying just enough pressure to ensure that any attempts at escape would hurt like hell. She then removed her cuffs from her belt and applied them as quickly as she could. When she realized that her hands were so sticky with her own blood that she nearly dropped the cuffs, she wondered if she might be hurt worse than she thought.

  When Decker tried to fight her off when she went for his left arm, she grabbed it and wrenched it upward a little too hard. She grimaced, fully expecting to hear the snap of his forearm breaking. But she had stopped just in time. He cried out beneath her as she snapped the cuffs closed.

  “Mackenzie…”

  She turned and saw Ellington stumble out onto the porch. He had not removed the knife, likely knowing that to remove it could actually make matters worse.

  “You okay?” she asked him.

  “Don’t know,” he said. He looked to the porch stairs, seemed to consider walking down them, and then sat down hard. “Called it in,” he said weakly. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said, although she wasn’t sure yet.

  She was shaky as she got to her feet. Hauling Decker up was a feat in and of itself but she managed to do so, holding him firmly as he tried to buck against her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Ellington yelled weakly from the porch. “You get a few feet away from her, I’ll take out your right knee.”

  Decker stopped then, hanging his head in defeat like a child that can’t get its way.

  “Up the stairs,” Mackenzie said, nudging him along.

  He didn’t move. He remained in place and started to murmur something.

  “I said get up the stairs,” she said.

  “If they aren’t dead,” he said, “then all of this was for nothing. The other eight meant absolutely nothing if the Vaughans aren’t dead. I can’t—”

  “I said move,” Mackenzie said.

  She planted her foot squarely in his ass and shoved him forward. He tripped over the first step and fell down, nearly slamming his face into the stairs above him.

  I hope he breaks his fucking nose, she thought.

  “Get to your feet and get up the stairs,” Mackenzie said as calmly as she could.

  Decker obeyed, taking the steps slowly one by one. When they reached the top, Ellington weakly kicked Mackenzie’s fallen sidearm out of their path so Decker couldn’t possibly think of getting it.

  Mackenzie did not like the look of Ellington. He was in shock. And there was more blood than she had seen about three minutes ago. It was starting to pool in his lap. He was trying to seem as coherent as possible, but she could tell it was a struggle.

  Mackenzie picked up her Glock and trained it at Decker. “Inside,” she spat.

  Again, he obeyed. She was pretty sure he was weeping this time.

  As she followed him inside, she knelt down by Ellington. She acted as if her only reason for doing so was to get his cuffs. While she had already slapped her own pair on Decker, she felt that she might need two if she would be holding Decker by herself. But she also knelt down in order to get a better look at Ellington. While he didn’t look terrible, he was by no means well off.

  “I’ll return these,” she said, trying to remain light-hearted. “You just hang in there.”

  “Yeah,” Ellington said weakly, with an eye roll.

  With that, she headed inside behind Decker to see just how much damage he had done before she and Ellington had arrived.

  ***

  To ensure Decker was not able to try escaping while she investigated the house, Mackenzie would have to immobilize him. And she had no problem with that.

  With her Glock still trained on him, she nodded toward the Vaughans’ couch in the living room. “Sit,” she said.

  When he obeyed this command, he did so with an exaggerated sort of defeat. She was pretty sure she’d have no problems with him. While he sat, Mackenzie carefully knelt at his feet. She tensed up, waiting to block off any kicks or other attacks he might try. But he was completely docile as she snapped Ellington’s cuffs around his ankles.

  “Does it make you feel like you’ve achieved something?” he asked. “Arresting me. Beating me. Do you feel good about it?”

  “Yeah, honestly,” she said. “It feels pretty great.”

  He let out a maniacal little chuckle at this and started to stare at the floor. His eyes were drawn to the shattered glass he and Mackenzie had placed in the floor when crashing through the glass window.

  There was so much she wanted to say to him but she didn’t trust herself to try to speak to him civilly. So instead, she went back to the living room to look in on the man she had seen crawling in a pool of blood.

  He had been sliced across the arm and there was a puncture wound in his chest. When he breathed, he made a wet sound that made Mackenzie cringe. As she knelt by him, knowing that the wife was somewhere in the house, she worried that she and Ellington had been too late.

  The man’s eyes coasted in her direction and she saw a faraway look there.

  Thinking as quickly as she could, Mackenzie grabbed two dishtowels that were hanging from one of the cabinet handles in the kitchen. She pressed them to the man’s chest, covering the wound. The blood instantly felt warm under her hands, even though the cloths.

  “Can you press down on this?” she asked.

  He nodded and took the cloths with one shaky hand. He pressed as hard as he could and let out a grunt of pain.

  “Patricia,” he said. “She…?”

  “Hold on,” Mackenzie said, not wanting leave his side.

  She got up and turned, only to see a woman standing behind her. Her face was streaked with tears and there was blood on her white shirt. From what Mackenzie could tell, she was unharmed. But her wide eyes and rigid posture made Mackenzie think she was in a state of shock.

  “Are you Patricia?” she asked.

  The woman nodded.

  “Patricia Vaughan?”

  Again, another nod. She then took a deep shuddering breath as her eye
s fell on her husband. Whatever fugue state she had been in crumbled in that moment. She nearly collapsed as she ran to him and let out a sob.

  “Patricia,” Mackenzie said. “I know it’s difficult, but you need to stay off of him for now. We don’t know how badly he’s hurt.”

  Patricia stopped inches away from him. She reached out and took his hand. Mackenzie felt the smallest flicker of hope when she saw that he had enough strength to squeeze his wife’s hand.

  “Patricia, I know it’s scary, but I need you to try to speak with me. Police and an ambulance are on their way and we can’t do much of anything until then. So do you think you can answer some quick questions?”

  “Yes, yeah…I…what happened?”

  “How did this man get into your house?” she asked, nodding back toward where Decker was still double-cuffed on the couch.

  “He knocked,” Patricia answered. “We know him—from a while back. He was apologizing for something he did a few years ago. He seemed genuinely sorry, started crying. So we let him in. And as soon as the door was closed…he…he pulled out the knife and attacked Henry. I tried to help but I was in shock, I think, couldn’t move, couldn’t…”

  The sound of approaching sirens distracted her. The noise seemed to bring on a whole new level of anxiety. Rather than relieving her by knowing that help was on the way, the blaring commotion from outside seemed to alert Patricia even more to the fact that her husband was in serious trouble.

  Maybe Ellington, too, she thought. She desperately wanted to run out to him but for right now, the Vaughans had to be her first priority.

  “Patricia…are you hurt?”

  “No,” she said. “The blood on my shirt is Henry’s…you came in and saved us…just in time. Thank you.”

  And with that, Patricia lost it. She crumpled up and started bawling. By her side, Henry did his best to comfort her by saying her name but he wasn’t able to use his voice—more like a garbled sound of pain and blood.

  When Mackenzie heard the screeching of tires and slamming doors out front, she raced to Ellington. Moving at such a speed reminded her that she wasn’t in tip-top shape, either. The wound in her upper thigh was stinging and throbbing. The underside of her palm felt raw where tiny shards of glass had punctured and rubbed her skin.

  On the back porch, she saw that Ellington had mustered the strength to get to his feet. He was currently leaning against the side of the house, looking like he might get sick at any moment.

  “How bad is it?” she asked.

  “Hurts like a bitch. Seems to feel better when I’m standing. Starting to feel a little dizzy but I think I’ll be okay.”

  “Help just arrived,” she said.

  He nodded and closed his eyes. She could tell that he was trying his absolute best to not let her know that he was in a great deal of pain.

  “You did good,” he said. “This is on me. I shouldn’t have gone in so fast, so hard. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Shut up,” she said. “Save your strength.”

  He nodded and let out a groan. Mackenzie took one more look at the knife still sticking out of his side and realized just how risky of a situation it was. Until the knife was out and he was properly attended to, there was no telling how much damage had been done.

  She heard the front door open and she started forward as paramedics and police came filing in. She made it two steps toward the shattered glass door before Ellington stopped her.

  “Hey...I know you’re like a superhero and all and want to be in there…but is it selfish of me to ask you to stay with me?”

  She couldn’t suppress her smile. He was right. She did feel the need to get inside and help in any way she could. But she also did want to stay there with him.

  She walked over to him and took his hand. She felt him trembling beneath her touch, his body responding in the only way it knew how to the trauma it was enduring.

  She stayed by his side, his hand in hers, until the first of the paramedics stepped out onto the back porch.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The afternoon was a sea of chaos for Mackenzie. She stayed with Ellington as long as she could. She rode to the hospital in the back of an ambulance with him. He was coherent the entire time but there were a few occasions where he seemed to be on the verge of passing out. By the time they arrived at the hospital and he was admitted, the news the medics were able to give her wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it wasn’t anything trivial, either.

  The knife had grazed one of his ribs. Had it not, it would have punctured his lung. There was still a chance that there was a minor puncture that would not be found until a more thorough examination could be conducted.

  While she waited for news on Henry Vaughan and Ellington, she received her own treatment. She spent two hours being seen by doctors, getting four stitches in the side of her right hand and eight in her thigh. The ones in her thigh hurt like hell but she toughed her way through it. Getting the shards of glass removed from her forearms was no picnic, either.

  Still, she was cleared and bandaged up by five o’clock that afternoon. She received word that Ellington was in the clear, though he’d obviously be getting stitches and would be off of his feet for a while.

  As for Henry Vaughan, he was a case of touch-and-go. Upon arriving at the hospital, early indications suggested he would not make it through the evening. Then, by the time Mackenzie had been cleared, he was showing promising signs of pulling through.

  Before leaving the hospital, Mackenzie walked by Ellington’s room. She took a step inside but saw that he was sleeping. She stood in the doorway for a moment and marveled at how strange life was. She’d come to Miami with Harrison, with Ellington nothing more than a sizeable speck on her radar. And now, after just a few days, things were very much different. Now, she could have easily remained in his room, sitting there only to watch him, until he stirred awake.

  But he’d make fun of her for that, and rightfully so.

  Besides…while they had caught their killer, the case wasn’t quite over. She had somewhere else to be. And if Ellington’s injury was going to be worth something, it was her duty to go.

  With one last fond look at Ellington, Mackenzie left the hospital and headed to the precinct.

  ***

  When she stepped through the front doors, there was a stifling sort of silence as the few people in the lobby noticed her arrival. Then something surreal happened. People started to applaud. She’d seen this sort of thing in movies and had heard a few stories while in the academy of this sort of thing happening. But it was weird to have it happen to her—especially when she felt that it was not deserved.

  She gave a few vague smiles as she made her way back to Rodriguez’s office. As she had expected, it was empty. She veered further down the hallway toward the interrogation rooms—a part of their building that she was getting far too familiar with.

  She bypassed the interrogation room and headed for the door to the observation room. She knocked and the door was answered by Nestler. He ushered her in quickly, with the same look of appreciation on his face that she had seen in the lobby from the workers and scattered officers.

  Dagney and two other officers she had not yet met were also in the room. They were looking through the glass, where Decker and Rodriguez occupied the room on the other side.

  “How long has he been at it?” Mackenzie asked.

  “About twenty minutes,” Nestler said. “But we’ve had Decker in there for about an hour and a half.”

  “I think Rodriguez might not mind you joining him,” Dagney added.

  Mackenzie nodded, studying Byron Decker through the glass. He looked weak and tired. He sat slouched, his shoulder hunched and his head hanging low. She slowly made her way out of the room and walked to the interrogation room. She knocked and then opened the door, poking her head in.

  “Am I okay to come in?” she asked.

  Rodriguez seemed slightly relieved to see her. He nodded and waved her in. Decker loo
ked up at her and then directly back down into his lap. There was a bandage on his forehead and an entire wrap around his forearm. The afternoon had been so hectic and violent that she had nearly forgotten that Decker had taken a beating, too—not just from her, but from the sliding glass door.

  Rodriguez sidled up next to her and whispered into her ear. “He’s not being confrontational. He wants to talk, I think. He’s already admitted to killing the four couples and attempting to kill the Vaughans. He’s cooperative, just…not all there.”

  Mackenzie stepped toward the table. Decker still didn’t look up at her.

  “Mr. Decker…after I handcuffed you, you started to weep. And now you won’t even look up at either one of us. Are you embarrassed that you were caught?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m embarrassed, but not that I was caught. That was inevitable. Even if I had made it to Juarez…I would have been caught. I knew that the instant I decided to do this. And that was a turn-on. It was the biggest turn-on of this whole thing. Except for killing Vanessa Springs. That was erotic as hell.”

  “What’s in Juarez, Mr. Decker?”

  He grew silent.

  Through the haze of tears she saw the insanity lurking. Maybe not even insanity, but evil. She did believe true evil existed and that in some cases, it resided in humans.

  She thought she’d try a new tack.

  “You killed those couples because you felt slighted, didn’t you?” she asked.

  He didn’t reply for a long time. Then, finally, he said, in a small voice, “I was ridiculed. Mocked.”

  She breathed deep, trying to contain her rage.

  “And that was cause enough for those people to die? Because you couldn’t get it up?”

  Anger flashed in his eyes but he swallowed it down like a snake. He smirked at her. “You’d be a hit at one of those clubs. I know a few men that would do what I’ve done this past week for a chance to get at you. You know that?”