When Saint Goes Marching In (30 page)

Saint woke up in a cold sweat and immediately raced to the hotel bathroom. He looked in the mirror and checked out his face. His pupils were dilated, the whites of eyes slowing turning from red to white and his heart rate unsteady.

“Jesus!” he screamed as he closed his eyes and threw his head back. “I really didn’t want to see that.”

He started the water for a quick shower, making it cooler than comfortable.

So that is what you have planned for them, Stanley? It’s even worse than I imagined.

Saint tried to shake the images out of his head to no avail. Visions of Stanley smearing Sergeant Kane’s wife blood all over his body made him retch. Saint stood under the cold water, allowing it to shock his senses as he rubbed his personal beige loofah across the dips and curves of his body. He rinsed and dried off quickly. Then he raced to his luggage and pulled out another pair of jeans and a fresh black long-sleeved shirt. He grabbed his New York Yankees baseball cap, slid on his Rolex, and pocketed his cell phone and keys. After he’d secured the gun to his person, he rushed to the rental car place and replaced the current car, just in case. He didn’t want to give himself away at the last minute.

“Come on, come on, come on!” he said through gritted teeth as he moved through the Denver Colorado traffic on his way back to Stanley’s motel. A sense of urgency gripped him and his heart sank.

His fears were confirmed when he didn’t see Stanley’s car.

“Shit!” He hit the steering wheel in anger and made his way to the Kane residence, racing against the clock.

Saint pulled up and immediately felt relief when he saw that Stanley was parked a couple houses down from the condo, and he still sat in his car, waiting for the right time to strike.

“OK,” Saint exhaled. “I see you now.” He parked across the street and watched. Saint tipped his hat downward when Sergeant Kane came out of the house to throw some trash away, then re-entered the residence.

After fifteen or so additional minutes, Stanley got out of his car, popped the trunk and removed his murdering treasures, placing them carefully into a large, black duffle bag. The sun had still not made an appearance. Under the brisk, cold duskiness, only dark grays provided a ceiling between Heaven and Earth. Saint covered his nose as he got out of his car and knelt down behind another parked car, watching Stanley’s every move.

His stomach churned from the overpowering stench. The scent of hatred was at times too much to bear, even for Saint who had developed immunity to it after the incident at his house years prior. Stanley, however, had a brand new kind of hatred that Saint had not been accustomed to before, and whenever he got a whiff, it took all of his self-control to not spill his breakfast right out onto the concrete.

Stanley
approached the front door of the Kane residence. He scanned the area, checking to ensure no one was around, then knocked on the door. Saint’s heart kicked so hard, it felt like it would burst out his chest and land right in front of him. He ran his hand over his face and concentrated solely on what was playing out. Saint watched as Kane came to the door. Initially, he looked surprised then he smiled.

He is taking him up on his offer to come by for more information about the army. How unusual that he would invite you to his home. You must have really thrown on the charm.

Stanley
was in luck. Originally, he was going to just fuck Kane’s wife, torture her and kill her. Now, he got two for the price of one, just like Saint’s dream showed him.

Oh, yes, let’s get this on and poppin’.

Saint readjusted his gun in the holster and walked over to the condominium. He made his way to a spot in the back of the house. Using an overgrown bush as concealment, he listened intently. He could hear voices, but not the dialogue.

Suddenly, he heard what sounded like a chair being knocked over, followed by a muffled scream and someone running. Saint raced to the front door and pulled on it. It was locked. He stood back, pulled his gun out and shot the side of the door knob, causing it to hang loosely. He kicked the door the rest of the way open, keeping his gun out in front of himself, then he pressed his back against the wall and slid slowly around and inside the house.

The house was eerily quiet. A blood trail led to a back room.

Slow, easy steps…

Saint’s heart beat out of control, reminding him of a crazed drum machine. His head hurt, his eyes felt like they were crossing and he was overwhelmed by Stanley’s hate-filled odor that again caused a wave of nausea. Saint’s nostrils flared when a small beacon of light streaked through a door that was slightly ajar. As he reached it, he quickly moved to the side of it and peered in.

“Shoot me, motherfucker, and I will slice her fucking throat!” Stanley yelled as he knelt behind Mona on the bed.

Sergeant Kane’s wife was tied to the bed in a semi-undressed state. Kane lie sprawled on the floor, his eyes barely open as a large knife was jammed in his chest. Blood pooled around the wound and down on the carpet, dyeing the tan woven fibers crimson.

Stanley
cocked his head to the side. “You? The auditor in Missouri? I should’ve known you were a cop!”

Stanley
tugged harshly at the rope around Mona’s right arm. Mona sobbed; mascara ran down her face. Saint looked at her shivering body and wanted to tell her everything would be OK. He held his gun steadily out in front of him, his eyes focused, his feet planted firmly.

“Stanley, it’s over. I’m going to need you to step away from her,” he said calmly.

Stanley
dug his knife in and pierced Mona’s skin. A trickle of blood ran down her neck, briefly pooling on her collar bone before running down to her right breast.

“Stanley, you shouldn’t make this woman, someone you don’t even know, pay for what another woman did to you.”

Stanley
tilted his head in confusion.

“I know what she did to you, Stanley. She broke your heart. She ran off with another man after you bent over backwards to help her. She used you, Stanley. She isn’t worth throwing your entire life away, though.” Saint moved a step closer, holding his gun securely in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Kane whose eyes shifted to Saint. He knew how helpless the man felt right now – unable as he was to protect his wife.

“Shut the hell up. You don’t know me. That is some psychological bull. You’re just guessing to see if I’ll take the bait. Save it, man.”

“I know exactly what happened, Stanley,” Saint smiled. “Her name was Carla. You were crazy about her. She was the color of peanut butter, shoulder length dark brown hair with blunt bangs and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. You fell in love in high school and you were inseparable. Then, she grew tired of you and ran off with another man, never to be seen again. All you got in return were mounting bills and an email that it was over between you two. Your heart is still broken. You took her back time and again and then you couldn’t find her. You looked everywhere, and she just vanished.”

Stanley
’s jaw twitched. His eyes darted back and forth between Mona, Sergeant Kane and Saint.

“You stabbed this man in the heart,” Saint said as he pointed behind him, not taking his eyes off Stanley. “Because you feel like your heart was stabbed, too. But what you’re doing right now is wrong, Stanley. You wanted him to watch while you had your way with his wife, so you didn’t finish him off, instead, you made sure he could hear her screaming and pawing at you, begging you to get off of her while you humiliate her and make her pay for what someone else did. Doesn’t seem quite fair, Stanley, but I understand it.”

“Don’t come any closer!” Stanley screamed when Saint inched a little closer. “I don’t know how you found out that shit, but I’m done listening. You’ve fucked up everything!” Stanley lifted the knife higher on Mona’s throat and held her head close to his heaving, sweat covered chest. Mona cried in pain and bucked her untied legs. The left corner of her white panties came slightly down, exposing a small butterfly tattoo on her hip.

“Be still!” Stanley cried out.

“She doesn’t like it, Stanley. She doesn’t want to die. She just wants to live happily with her husband. This morning they had breakfast together. They talked about their plans for the weekend. They were going to catch a movie and do some shopping. And then you came in here and tried to take their lives, as if you’re God. They have a bright future ahead of them. You will take all of that from them because of what Carla did…someone that they don’t even know. You chose the wrong person and now these two people have to pay for it. That’s not rational, Stanley, but I know you’re so messed up, you can’t understand anything I’m really saying right now so I won’t continue to waste much more time on you.” Saint’s eyes narrowed.

A tear rolled down Stanley’s face. Saint knew it wasn’t because he’d touched his heart; it was because he knew there was no good way out of this. Saint’s core continued to pump loudly.

I have to help Kane. Let’s get this shit over with.

Saint moved one step closer. Stanley pressed the knife farther into Mona’s throat then swiftly removed something Saint was unable to identify from his back jean pocket. Before he knew it, a small knife was flying straight to his head – a fish gutting knife so sharp, it could cut air. Saint gasped and ducked in the nick of time. The dagger cut neatly into the wall behind him, its precision deadly.

Oh my, you’ve really fucked up now. It’s on! Finish him!

Saint lunged towards Stanley who sliced the blade deeper into Mona’s neck. She screamed out in pain. Saint quickly grabbed and choked Stanley with one bare hand, forcing Stanley’s eyes to bulge and his hand to drop the knife. His gaze still fixed on Stanley, he reached over and untied Mona’s right arm. She slumped down on the bed.

Saint dragged Stanley by the throat, his grip like a steel vise. He yanked him up, slammed and pinned him to the wall, knocking his head harshly against it. Stanley groaned in pain. Saint’s eyes constricted, and he felt the whites turning jet-black, causing his hazel pupils to look like a cobra’s. He’d seen himself when this happened before. His corneas shone like gold and formed into the shape of iridescent diamonds. As Saint tightened his grip, Stanley gurgled and coughed. He took advantage of the bastard’s debilitated state by rummaging through his duffle bag and retrieving the thick rope. He used it to tie him securely to the leg of bed.

Saint quickly made his way over to Mona and untied her other wrist. “Mona, I need you to go over to your husband and put your hand over his wound. Leave the knife in; don’t try to take it out. Where you see the blood coming out of his chest, use your hands to block some of the flow,” Saint explained. “Do you understand?” He raised his voice, trying to shake her out of her shock.

Mona looked into Saint’s eyes, gasped at the startling color change, and ran over to her husband. She fell to her knees beside him and cried relentlessly while she followed Saint’s instructions. Saint returned to Stanley, untied him and hoisted him up in the air. Stanley’s gaze got wilder as fear seeped in it. His eyes rolled back as the oxygen to his brain came and went. Saint brought his face so close that if he blinked, his eyelashes would’ve brushed against Stanley’s reddening face. He blew ice cold air into Stanley’s face – so much of it that Stanley’s teeth started to chatter.

Saint grabbed the knife, now by Stanley’s head, out of the wall and pushed it in his back pocket. He choked Stanley until he almost lost consciousness. Saint bore down, pleading with his own self to refrain from killing him just yet. He threw him on the bed and straddled him on the disheveled sheets, soaked with the sweat of fear caused from Mona’s exasperating ordeal.

He put his hand over Stanley’s heart then forced Stanley’s hand upon his. “Keep your hand where I put it. If you move it even one centimeter, I will not hesitate to shoot you in the head and we will call it a day. There’s nothing I’d like more than to put one right in your fucking skull.” Saint breathed deeply, in and out as more below zero fog escaped his parted lips. “But, there is a certain way this has to be done, so…let’s begin.”