Justice Served: A Barkley and Parker Thriller (31 page)

Ray lay down on the bed, waiting as if a lamb
to be slaughtered. He knew he had a hell of a lot riding on this
venture. It was his idea, his baby. If Monique did not show up, he
would have to deal with the fallout.

That might even include his job.

His camaraderie with Nina.

And even whatever he might still have with
Carole.

It made him wonder if it was time to take
stock of his life. Maybe after this, no matter what happened, it
was time to hang it up. Try something different. He was getting too
damned old for this crap. Crimes had become more violent and
bizarre than he could remember. This case was a good example.

Maybe the time was right to seriously think
about settling down. Having a family. Children he could call his
own.

Maybe he and Carole could talk about
that.

First, they had to talk about each other
again. And then try to reignite the passion and flame that had
seemed to have been extinguished with the recent chain of
events.

He hoped it wasn’t too late.

The quick hard knock on the door made Ray
immediately spring up and go for his gun. On his feet he crept to
the door on the squeaky floor. There was no peephole. He could feel
his heart beating wildly as he asked: “Who is it?”

“It’s me, O’Neal,” the Lieutenant said, a
pointed edge to his voice. “Open up.”

Recognizing his authoritative voice, Ray put
his gun away and opened the door. O’Neal barged past him, his face
contorted with indignation.

“It’s been over three hours since this
operation began, Barkley,” he huffed. “I’m calling it off.”

“You can’t,” Ray tried to argue in vain. “I
need more time. She’ll show up. I know it. The sicko wouldn’t want
to see me get away with beating my wife senseless.”

“Looks like you already got away with it,”
O’Neal declared without humor. “If she saw the trial, she wasn’t
impressed. Your plan backfired!”

“Why don’t I go back to the bar?” Ray said, a
note of desperation in his voice, unwilling to give up. Not when he
was this close to nailing her ass. “Maybe she was being extra
cautious. I can start the whole thing over—”

O’Neal shook his head so hard it seemed like
his neck would snap. “Nope. I don’t think so. I’ve already sent
everyone packing. Now I’m telling you to go home, too, Barkley.
It’s over.”

“Not until Monique’s behind bars or dead,
man,” Ray said defiantly.

“Yeah, right,” O’Neal shot back. “And because
of you we’ve lost ground on that objective.” He fixed him with
crinkled eyes. “I want to see you in my office first thing
tomorrow!” With that, he stormed out and slammed the door.

Ray stood motionless for a moment. He had
been so sure this would flush Jacqueline Monique Lewiston out of
the woodwork like the rodent she was. But it hadn’t. She had
remained as invisible as she had since the murders began. Except
when she wanted to make her presence felt. Then it was too late for
some hapless bastard. It was as if the killing machine was working
with someone on the inside, keeping her one step or more ahead of
the game.

Where the hell is she?
Ray’s brow
furrowed with frustration.

He considered that she might have recognized
him beneath the hair on his face as Detective Sergeant Ray Barkley
of the Portland Police Bureau’s Homicide Division. Could she have
remembered him from the night of Blake Wallace’s death?

Could be she have been tipped off that they
were onto her? If so, she might have already left Portland for
greener pastures.

He hated to think that Jacqueline Monique
Lewiston had managed to escape the net they had placed around the
city and was headed to unknown parts to continue her self-appointed
mission.

Ray left the room, wondering if their window
of opportunity on this killer had closed for good.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Ray unlocked the door and stepped down into
the houseboat. The moonlight shone into the passageway and the
illumination was enough that he avoided turning on the foyer light.
Instead he headed directly to the bedroom. It had been a long day
and all he wanted now was some sleep in his bed.

Ray had phoned Carole on the way home and
told her about the botched plan. She had expressed sorrow and
uneasiness that they were unable to capture the female serial
killer. He offered to come over, but Carole hesitantly assured him
it wasn’t necessary, noting she had locked her doors and wasn’t
planning to go out till morning.

They left it at that.

No talk of reconciliation, renewed romance,
or even maintaining a friendship.

He didn’t even want to think about what that
meant. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow when the light of day might cast
a brighter perspective on things.

Ray entered the bedroom. Moonlight filtered
through the vertical cellular shades. He removed his jacket,
tossing it on a chair. Then the gun and holster came off, which he
set on the dresser.

Ray thought he heard a sound, causing him to
turn around. Out of the corner of his eye he detected movement.

A woman’s harsh voice said: “Bastard! Did you
really think you could get away with what you did to Whitney?”

Without saying a word, Ray immediately
pivoted to go for the gun. But the intruder was quicker, and to his
surprise, more determined. He felt the blow slam into his side and
he knew it had cracked several ribs.

“Asshole!” She taunted him. “Did you think I
was so stupid to fall for a dumb trap? It’s you who has to die—not
me!”

Ray had barely a moment to regard the woman.
Even in the low light he could see that she was tall, statuesque,
and wore a short blonde wig with baby locs. She wore black gloves
and held a wooden baseball bat up and to her side. Wearing a
menacing look, she swung the bat at his head like a home run
slugger.

Ray, sensing it was coming, dove at the last
instant. But not before it grazed the side of his head. The pain
was deafening, made worse when he crashed to the floor. It left him
dazed.

“That’s right, Kendall,” she ridiculed him,
“try to get away. Just like the others. Won’t do you a damned bit
of good. You can crawl, dickhead, but you can’t hide. Not from
me!”

She raised the bat and struck him flush on
the leg. Ray let out a piercing scream as the bone snapped just
above the ankle. He felt like a trapped and wounded animal,
defenseless against the likes of a madwoman—and running out of
time. He ached all over and suspected that unless he made some sort
of move now the next blow would be the one that took him out
permanently.

“Wait, Monique,” Ray gasped in a voice he
didn’t recognize. “Jacqueline Monique Lewiston, isn’t it—?”

Ray saw the shock in her face that he
actually knew her name. Maybe that could work in his favor. He
tried to push out of his mind the throbbing pain he felt all
over.

Her shock was quickly replaced by pure,
unbridled hatred. “So you get bonus points, asshole, for knowing
who I am,” she cursed. “It won’t make one bit of difference. You’ll
never survive to tell a living soul. Or a dead one, for that
matter.”

“I’m a cop, Monique,” he managed to say,
knowing he had to buy some time with her. “And so was the woman you
saw in court as the victim. The whole thing was a setup designed to
flush you out in the open.”

Monique looked confused. “You’d say anything
to save your ass, scumbag. But it won’t work!”

She slammed the bat again on the same leg.
More bone shattered like glass. Ray had never felt such pain. He
hurt too much now to even scream.

“I’m telling you the damned truth,” he
groaned, trying to maintain consciousness. “I’m Detective Sergeant
Ray Barkley. You knew about the trap. Do you think they would use a
real batterer to trap you?”

Monique pondered this. She considered that he
might not be an abuser. That the man really didn’t deserve to be
beaten to death. That the trial had been nothing more than a cheap
trick.

But her mind was too far gone to accept this.
Even if she had, Monique felt that he didn’t deserve to live. He
was no different than the rest. A user who got his kicks out of
humiliating and battering women.

“Nice try, Richard Kendall,” she hissed, “but
it won’t work. I didn’t just get out of the loony bin. Not today
anyway. Your time for screwing with me—and your wife—is over!”

Ray’s life literally flashed before him, as
if watching a homemade movie. Everything he had achieved and
hadn’t. Everything he had worked for and hoped to have. Everything
he meant to do, but never got around to. Every dream he still had,
including a life with Carole.

It was all about to end in a way he had never
imagined. Unless he could somehow avert disaster.

But I’m quickly running out of options
here.

Summoning up every ounce of strength he had
left—and it was fading fast—Ray managed to use his one good leg and
rammed it into his assailant’s stomach as hard as he could, taking
her by surprise. She doubled over in agony and he tried to crawl
away for his life.

But she recovered quickly and had cornered
him like a leopard.

“Just like the rest of them, you’ve got no
balls to take the pain,” she snarled with a derisive chuckle.
“Hurting women, but sissies when it comes to taking like a man what
you dish out. Well it won’t work this time! You’re the one who will
feel real pain when I’m through with you.”

Ray watched in horror as Monique raised the
bat above her head. It was aimed squarely at
his
head and he
doubted he would be able to ward off the attack with the force she
would exert in bringing the bat down upon him. He said a quick
prayer and hoped the end was swift, but didn’t count on it. Even
after death, he knew she planned to work him over good so that what
was left would barely pass for a man. Much less, Ray Barkley.

Without prelude, the lights suddenly came on,
temporarily blinding both victim and perpetrator. A voice boomed:
“Drop the bat, Monique! NOW!”

Ray squinted and saw Nina standing there,
legs spread, gun aimed squarely at Jacqueline Monique Lewiston’s
chest.

Monique, startled, glared at Nina, the bat
still hovering perilously over her head. “This ain’t about you and
me,” she said. “It’s about
him
and what he did!”

“No, Monique,” blared Nina, never taking her
eyes off the killer, “it is about
you
and what you’ve done.
Now I said drop the bat! I won’t say it again!”

Monique seemed to weigh her options for a
moment or two before saying tartly: “Go to hell, bitch—”

She looked down at Ray and, tightening her
grip on the bat, began to lower it towards his head.

He covered up defensively, but the blow never
came.

Nina fired twice at Jacqueline Monique
Lewiston, driving her backwards as the bat flew from her hands,
landing two feet from Ray. Monique went sprawling to the floor. The
blonde wig she wore sprung loose upon impact, revealing dark
Senegalese twists tied up underneath. As blood spurted from her
mouth and chest, she attempted to get up. But Nina now hovered over
her like a gladiator, planting a foot solidly on Monique’s
outstretched arm. The gun was pointed at the vigilante killer’s
face.

“Don’t even think about it!” Nina shouted at
her with asperity. “Believe me, I will kill your ass, if I have
to—assuming you survive...”

Monique glowered and groaned, spitting out:
“Bitch.”

“Takes one to know one,” Nina tossed back
sharply.

Monique’s eyes rolled in the back of her
head, then slowly closed. She became silent.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ray asked
his partner, struggling to even speak.

Nina glanced at him while still standing
above Monique. “Had a hunch,” she said matter-of-factly. “Figured
Lewiston wasn’t as dumb as we wanted her to be, even if insane.
Then, wouldn’t you know it, I got stuck in traffic. Didn’t think
I’d make it.”

Ray winced, fighting back the pain that
enveloped him like a dark cloud. “Damned good thing for me that you
did,” he sputtered. “Otherwise I’d be dead right about now.”

Nina glanced at Monique who had lost
consciousness, two gaping bullet holes spurting blood from her
chest. Satisfied that she had the killer under control, she put her
gun away and rushed to Ray’s side.

“You look pretty banged up to me, Barkley,”
Nina uttered wide-eyed with concern. “Man, she did one hell of a
job on you. Hang in there, partner—”

Ray saw the fear in Nina’s face and tried to
reassure her, if not himself. “It’ll take a hell of a lot more than
a few broken bones and cracked ribs to do me in, Parker. Afraid
you’ll have to put up with my bossing you around for a while yet.”
Just how much longer, he wasn’t sure.

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” she said
emotionally. “I’ll call for help.”

“You do that,” he muttered in agony. “I don’t
think I’ll be going anywhere.”

Ray shut his eyes and began to feel his head
spin like a wheel. Once again his life seemed to come to him in
distorted images. The pain that wracked his body almost seemed to
disappear.

He thought about Nina and all they’d meant to
each other over the years.

Then he thought about Jacqueline Monique
Lewiston and the abuse that turned her into a killing machine.

Finally his thoughts turned to Carole and the
short time they known each other that would always be with him no
matter what happened in the future. He could only hope there was a
future. That they were able to pick up where they left off, and
much more.

Then there was nothing but darkness...

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Carole was there when Ray came to. So was
Nina. They were in his room at the Portland Medical Center. Carole
saw that he was about as pale as an African-American could be,
swollen, and weak looking. He had tubes extending from all parts of
his body. A cast extended from just below his right knee to his
foot, suspended several inches above the bed. He had suffered a
contusion on the side of his head, broken ribs, and multiple
fractures of his right leg.