The Cage (4 page)

“Don’t know, but it’s been a while. I do know that I’d be puking my guts up after about one down and back.” Ferris ran a hand through his hair, pulling the blond mop away from a boyish, freckled face.

As David watched Ackerman continue his routine, he regretted ever agreeing to allow the murderer into his facility. There was something about the way that Ackerman was pushing himself that didn’t sit well with David. It was as if the killer were training in preparation for a specific purpose.

“I’ll be in my office, but keep a close eye on Ackerman and let me know if anything changes.”

“Willis and Mason are going to be taking over for me and Johnson in a few minutes, but I’ll relay the message.”

David gave a nod and headed back toward the main section of the hospital.

Jennifer jerked open the drawer of her dark cherry desk and, pulling up a stack of reports and files, removed the .38 Special revolver. The gun was the same weapon used in the murder of her family; it had taken a two thousand dollar bribe to get it out of the police evidence room. It was also the weapon that Ackerman had used to strike her and split open her cheek when she had tried to fight back. Every time she looked in the mirror, the thin scar running from her temple to her jaw served as an inescapable reminder of that night.

She opened the chamber and checked that the gun was loaded. It was a routine that she repeated almost daily as she fantasized about what she would do if she ever came face-to-face with the monster who had destroyed her life.

She had never truly believed that she would get the opportunity, and she had always wondered if she would have the fortitude to carry out the plan if she did. But now her doubt had faded away. The moment was here, and she was ready.

She would likely spend many years in prison for what she was about to do, but she didn’t care. Her life became a cage the night her family was taken, and this was her one chance at freedom.

Her thoughts shifted to David and their recent argument. There were times when she felt they would spend the rest of their lives together. Despite what she had said, he was the only person she had ever met who could understand her pain. She loved him for that. She felt safe with him, a sensation that had eluded her since that rainy night when Ackerman came into her life. David was a kind man, and when he held her, there were moments when the scars of her past faded away and she knew true happiness. But it was just a stupid dream. She couldn’t live another day in a world where Francis Ackerman Jr. was still breathing.

Still, she wanted David to know the way she felt about him and why they couldn’t be together, so she grabbed a pen and wrote down her thoughts. She folded the letter, wrote his name on top, and left it on her desk for him to find later.

After it was done, she stood and left her office. Tonight she would set everything right again. She would kill Francis Ackerman.

Jennifer stepped toward the first security checkpoint that marked the end of the regular hospital and the beginning of the Iron Circle. The door buzzed open, and she walked into the chamber. On her right, a guard sat behind a window of inch thick Lexan polycarbonate.

“Evening, Bert,” she said.

The big man behind the bullet and impact resistant shield reached down and pushed the mic button. A warm smile topped by a thin red mustache cut across his round baby face. “Hey, Doc, what brings you down to the land of high security and boredom? You come to watch the paint dry?”

Jennifer had always liked Bert. He was a little shy and awkward, but he was also the type of person who never forgot a special occasion. Whenever anyone had a birthday or anniversary, Bert would distribute a Hallmark card for everyone at the hospital to sign. Jennifer felt that it was the little moments that showed a person’s true character, and Bert’s thoughtfulness had a funny way of making her feel self-absorbed.

“Just checking in on our newest patient.” She held up a cardboard beverage tray containing three coffees in sealed Styrofoam cups. “And I come bearing gifts.”

Bert nodded. “None for me, thanks, but I’m sure the boys will appreciate it. I know they’re on high alert watching your new friend.”

“I’m sure. Having a mass murderer in the next room can have that effect. Can you buzz me through?”

“You got it, Doc.”

As she walked down the hallway to the second checkpoint, she couldn’t help but admire the treatment areas on either side. The rooms allowed the therapists, herself and Kendrick, to counsel the inmates in safety. The thought caused her to cringe with regret. Kendrick’s techniques were truly revolutionary and could change the world for the better. She hoped that his research would continue unhindered after this incident but knew that such a lapse in security could set him back years.

She pushed forward anyway and tried to think of nothing other than the faces of her dead family.

The guards buzzed her through the second checkpoint and into the control room. Once inside, she distributed the coffees to the two guards on duty and then watched Ackerman sleeping in his cell. Night vision technology allowed the guards to watch the inmates even as they slept. Ackerman’s cell contained nothing but a toilet, a sink, and a metal bed tray secured to the wall and covered by a mattress, two pillows, and a suicide blanket—a covering made from wool that was so thick and heavy that it couldn’t be twisted into knots and used as rope by the inmates to harm themselves. He would eventually be allowed additional items, such as paperback books and magazines with the staples removed, but she didn’t intend to allow him to live that long.

She exchanged idle chitchat with the two guards until the drugs took effect and their heads slowly drooped to the security desk. Jennifer waited a moment to make sure that they were fully asleep, and then she reached out and pressed the button to unlock the inner security door. Normally, this door would be closed behind the guards and the prisoner secured before the door to his actual cell was opened. This time, however, there would be no one in the control room to open the cell door, so she had to open it herself. She pressed the open command for Cell 5 and watched Ackerman on the monitor.

He didn’t stir.

It was time.

Jennifer removed the revolver from her pocket and exited the control room.

Pretending to be asleep, Ackerman heard the click of his cell door being disengaged. He remained perfectly still for a moment, feeling eyes upon him through the security camera. And he knew who was watching him, analyzing him. An old friend.

Although it had been many years since he had last seen her face, he had recognized her immediately. She had been known as Jennifer Marsden when he had visited her family home all those years ago, but he knew that she must have changed her name and hidden her past. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been allowed to work at a facility such as this. He had noticed the name Dr. Kelly on her white jacket.

He had known by the look in her eyes that she would come for him. The fire in her gaze was all too familiar. It was the same cold rage he found when he looked in the mirror. Hatred had corrupted her innocence, and when he looked into her eyes, he saw a killer staring back.

He hadn’t expected Jennifer to come for him so soon, but when he heard the lock disengage, he knew that it could only be her. If he were being moved for some reason, the guards would have entered the secure area beyond his cell, ordered him to sit with his back to the door and slide his hands out the chuck hole, and then secured his hands to the outside of the door. Only after he was properly contained would the lock have been disengaged.

The fact that his door had opened without the proper procedures being followed could only mean one thing: Jennifer was either stronger or weaker than he had initially surmised. Either way, he was ready.

As she pushed through the security door, Jennifer realized that she was holding her breath and forced her lungs to expand and contract. The room seemed abnormally bright, and her heart thundered against her rib cage. Adrenaline pumped full force through her veins.

With the revolver at the ready, she moved toward the door to Ackerman’s cell. A moment of uncertainty swept through her, but she willed it away. Her hand found the steel of the handle, and she tried to channel the strength of the metal into herself. There was no turning back now. One of them wouldn’t live past this night.

Holding her breath, she yanked open the door and thrust the gun into the room, swinging it back and forth with frantic, jerky movements.

She checked the corners and by the toilet, but she could see the lump in the bed where her family’s murderer still slumbered. From the look of the bulge beneath the thick blanket, Ackerman had curled his body into the fetal position. It seemed strange to think of him in such a vulnerable state. She wondered if he saw the faces of those he had killed in his dreams. Would she see Ackerman’s face in her dreams from this day forth? She supposed it didn’t matter; he had been haunting her nightmares for years anyway.

Jennifer inched forward into the darkness of the cell. She had trained with the weapon, but was no expert marksman. And there would be no second chances, not with a man like Ackerman. She needed to be close.

Creeping forward, she stopped at a point just out of range for him to lunge out from the bed and grab her.

Then, pushing the last of her doubts away, she fired three times.

The bullets clanged off the metal bed tray and ricocheted into the brick wall. Although she had never shot anyone before, the impacts of the bullets didn’t sound as she had expected, and without realizing it, her body carried her forward for a better look.

A sensation like falling from a great height overwhelmed her as she realized that the lump in the bed was merely a portion of the suicide blanket and the pillows bunched together.

She whirled around and swung the gun in every direction, but she found no target in the small space. He couldn’t have escaped; there was nowhere for him to go.

Before she could fully realize her mistake, she felt a hand wrap around her ankle like a vise, and then the feeling of falling became more than just a sensation as her feet were pulled from beneath her. She plummeted toward the ground, her head slamming against the concrete. White spots filled her vision. The gun slipped from her grasp and clattered away.