Zeke (41 page)

“Screwed up world we live in.” Will
signaled to change lanes. “How about the land owner? How’d he take the news?”

“According to Halloday, the farmer
who owns the place is, um,
unique
. Prickly old son-of-a-bitch, but this
threw him. Shook him up.”

Good, Will thought. “Any sign of
the van or the couple I’m looking for?”

“Not yet.”

Will, with genuine gratitude,
thanked the detective for calling. “Please keep me in the loop.”

“I intend to. I know you’re concerned
about that girl.” Dane lowered his voice. “I’ve got a daughter about that age
myself. It’s a worry.” He cleared his throat. “Are you on your way home,
Falstaff?”

“On the road as we speak,” Will
said, without a trace of guilt for misleading the detective.

“Okay, good. I’ll be in touch.”

They disconnected. Will hit the
speed dial for Roxie and updated her on the latest development. “Who knows how
many times this freak has killed in the past?”

“Oh, Will,” Roxie said. “You need
to hurry.”

“I am. Talk to you later.” Will
drove on in silence, tension holding him in its grip.

Will stared up at the daunting
edifice of the St. Mary Basilica, parts of which towered over the naked trees.
Sunlight glinted off the stained glass near the top of the structure. There was
no front entry, so he drove around back, via the alley. Here he found a gate
that wasn’t properly locked. He slipped from his car, removed the padlock, and
dropped it to the ground. Swinging the gate wide, he jumped back into his
vehicle and followed tire tracks that wound into the grounds. His heart leaped
into overdrive when he spotted the back of a burgundy van protruding slightly
above a ramp once used for deliveries. He pulled into position behind the van,
blocking any escape. Turning his cell phone to vibrate, he pocketed it along
with the flashlight and eased his car door open. Closing it quietly, he pulled
his gun and inched toward the van.

It was definitely the vehicle he’d
been chasing. The tag number and color matched. Carefully, Will verified no one
was inside. He tried the doors, but found them locked. Returning to his car for
a slim jim, Will popped the locks and opened the driver’s side door. The first
thing he noticed was the smell. Stale cigarette smoke mingled unpleasantly with
the odor of people living too long in close quarters. He pulled the hood
release and disabled the engine. Relocking and closing the door he dialed 911.
“I need police at the St. Mary Basilica. I don’t know the exact address.”

“That’s fine sir, I have the location.
Can you tell me the nature of the emergency?”

“There’s a killer inside with a
hostage and I think he may have already hurt her. If not, I believe he has
plans to. In fact, you better come in quiet if you don’t want to rattle him.
Send an ambulance, too.”

“Your name?”

Will impatiently gave the
dispatcher his information.

“Sir, you say there’s a killer
inside? How do you know this? Did you see the subjects enter the building?”

“I don’t have time for this! Just
get someone here, fast.”

“Sir, I’m sending them now. In the
meantime, I need you to stay on the phone with me, okay? You should wait
outside for our officers to arrive,” the dispatcher instructed.

“Like hell.” Will hung up.

Turning back toward the massive
church, Will entered the same door Zeke and Sue had used and found himself in
the kitchen. He cringed as his feet crunched on the debris, sounding louder
than a marching band in the stillness of the huge room. He walked forward,
uncertain which way to go.

A sound drifted down from somewhere
overhead and he paused, cocking his head and straining to hear. It came again.
A muffled voice, male, but he couldn’t make out any words.

As Will started for a door leading
from the kitchen, a scream resounded through the building, echoing off the
stone walls. Will flew through the rooms, seeking the source. Another scream
rent the air, followed by harsh sobbing which broke off abruptly. Will spun in
place, straining to pinpoint the exact direction from which it had come.

Once more, please. Just make one
more sound.
Will turned toward the grand staircase and raced upward, his
shoes slapping lightly on the steps. He stopped on the second-floor landing and
listened. A series of thuds followed by scraping noises sounded overhead. Will
eased up the next flight of stairs, hugging the wall and avoiding broken steps.
Above him, light streamed through holes in the sloped ceilings. On the third
floor, he found an attic space, an open central area with smaller rooms lining
either side. As he edged along, he heard rustling sounds from behind the first
door on his right. Though his heart slammed a rhythm against his chest, his
hands remained steady.

He rushed into the room and
surprised a colony of rats at work on the bloated body of a dead raccoon. They
scattered, crawling over old boxes and under dust-covered furniture.

Will lowered his weapon and stood
for a moment. An ominous crack gave him less than a second’s warning before the
floor under his feet gave way and he fell through.

He landed on the second floor amid
a cloud of plaster dust, broken boards, and bug carcasses. White-hot pain
speared his leg. Groaning, he shakily sat up to take stock. Gun still clutched
in his white-knuckled grip, he turned to look at his injury. Blood stained his
left pant leg around a spike of broken wood that had pierced his calf like a
dagger. He closed his eyes and battled the urge to pass out. So much for the
element of surprise, he thought wryly.

A long agonized scream nearby
jolted him from his dizziness, and he pulled himself awkwardly to his feet. He
had made his unplanned landing in a small room. Weaving like a drunk, he
gritted his teeth and stumbled toward the door.

More cries filled the empty spaces
and he gained a point of reference. Will found himself facing a long hallway
with doors on either side. The sounds were coming from this level; he was now
certain, but which room?

As he reached a hallway that led
straight off the stairway, he once again heard a woman scream. The first room
he entered was empty, but sounds of a fight issued from behind a second door.
Will moved into place, gun gripped firmly, and threw open the door, revealing
his quarry.

Sue was bound to a metal bed frame.
Blood covered her face, flowed from cuts on her feet, and soaked the mattress beneath
her. Zeke stood over her holding a large knife. Two sets of eyes turned to
Will, Zeke’s bright with fiendish excitement, Sue’s wild with horror.

“Oh, god!” she wailed. “Please help
me! Help me.” She broke off, sobbing.

Will aimed his gun at Zeke as he
staggered inside and visually searched the room for anyone else. It was just
the three of them. “Get away from her, you son-of-a-bitch!”

“Who the hell are you? Superman?
Come to save the day?” Zeke asked in a lazy drawl, simultaneously dropping into
a crouch. The bed, with Sue on it, was now between him and Will. Zeke held the
knife to Sue’s throat and stared at Will with insolence. A slow smile spread
across his face. “Doesn’t matter who you are. You’re fucked, hero. Shoot at me
and you might hit her. You good with a gun? Are you? Good enough to take a
chance?”

“I’m good.” Will kept his voice
steady and concentrated on his adversary.

“Well, think about this. You hit
me, and Big Ben here might slip, slit little Susie’s throat. He’s sharp as a
razor.” To illustrate his point, Zeke drew a thin line of blood under Sue’s
chin. Red streaks trickled down her pearly white neck.

She moaned.

“Hold on, Susan,” Will said, never
taking his eyes off Zeke. “I’m going to get you out of here. Just hold on.”

“Confident, aren’t we? Here’s
something to think about...The slightest flick of my wrist and she’s dead. Want
that on your conscience, hero?”

“Look,” Will began.

“No, you look. Just lay down your
weapon and back over into that corner. All I need is a minute. Then you can
rescue the girl and I’m out of
your
life and
hers
. Easy as it
gets.”

“No deal. Drop the knife on the
floor beside you and put your hands on your head.” Will grinned mirthlessly.
“Do
that
, and I promise not to shoot you.” With great effort of will, he
ignored Sue’s distress, although every part of his being longed to free her. He
began edging toward the bed, adrenaline rocketing through his system.

“Stop,” Zeke commanded.

Will paused.

“It’s a standoff,” Zeke commented,
as if making pleasant conversation. “I’ve always hated those. Avoided them,
really.” The muscles and sinews stood out on his forearm as he pushed the knife
harder against Sue’s pale flesh. His eyes burned with a strange fire. “You a
cop?” he asked Will.

“Close enough.”

“Look at your leg,” Zeke said with
a short laugh. “You’re bleeding like a mother-fucker. If we dick around long
enough, you’ll bleed to death right here on the spot. Seriously, dude, look at
your leg.”

Will kept his eyes on Zeke. “Shut
up and move your ass.”

Zeke shrugged as if conceding and
relaxed his hold on the knife. “Alright, I guess you’re too smart for me. I
might as well give up.”

In nightmares later, Will would
relive the next lightning fast moments in slow motion.

Zeke raised the knife and plunged
it into Sue’s side, then shoved the bed with amazing strength into Will’s
knees. Sue howled in pain. Will fought for balance as Zeke leapt over the bed
and flew toward the outer room. Swaying, Will reached out a muscled arm,
grabbed the back of Zeke’s shirt, and pulled. The momentum sent Zeke hurtling
into the wall.

Zeke scrambled on the floor like an
oversized spider. In an agile move, he swept out a leg and rammed his boot heel
into Will’s wound, driving the wood shard deeper into his leg. Will folded into
a red haze of pain, but still clung to his weapon.

Before he hit the floor, Will
pulled the trigger.

The slug missed Zeke, but blasted
the wall near his head. Plaster and lath tore into Zeke’s perfect face as he
scuttled to the office doorway and slipped out, leaving droplets of blood
behind.

Will climbed to his feet and
lurched after Zeke, who had already reached the stairway. Taking aim, Will
fired a second shot as Zeke started down. More plaster flew into the air, but
Zeke was gone.

Will faced a dilemma. Go after Zeke
or help Sue. Lowering his weapon, his arm trembled as he turned back to the
room. With the injury to his leg, Will knew he’d never catch the fleet-footed,
younger man. Besides, Sue needed his help and he wouldn’t let her die. Not on
his watch.

From below, Will heard shouts.
“Freeze! Police!” Footsteps pounded and several shots rang out.
Thank God! I
hope to hell they brought him down.

On the bed, Sue writhed in agony.
Will hobbled to her side, pulled out his pocketknife, and cut the cord that
bound her to the bed. Blood still ran freely from her crooked nose, and her
neck was chafed and bruised. Will could clearly see ligature tracks on her
throat. More blood seeped from between her legs, and oozed from various cuts in
her skin. In addition, she had been beaten; red marks and welts marred her body
from top to bottom. Will removed his coat and draped it over Sue’s nudity,
carefully avoiding the knife.

Sue reached for the weapon buried
in her side. “It hurts,” she wailed. “It hurts so bad! Help me, please. Get it
out of me!”

“No, honey. No. We can’t pull it
out,” Will said in a soothing voice as he carefully restrained her hands. “We
have to wait for the ambulance. Shhh, now. Everything’s going to be okay.
Zeke’s gone.”

“Gone? Are you sure?” Sue searched Will’s
face for a few seconds before her eyes rolled back into her head and she passed
out.

“I need help up here!” he yelled
over his shoulder. “I need medical help. Hurry!”

“Oh, lord,” he breathed as the
tension slowly drained from his body. His leg hurt with relentless ferocity and
he felt weak. “Oh, my merciful lord.” He stroked Sue’s hair until the
paramedics arrived.

In the
Worst Way

Will exchanged steely stares with
the officer outside the ICU. Sue was out of surgery and stable by the time he’d
had his own wound treated and had finished with the police interview.

Limping slightly, he’d made the
arduous trek to Sue’s floor. Once there, he had butted hard against the stone
wall of HIPAA regulations and the unbreakable resolve of the cop standing guard
at the door of ICU-3. He shuffled away from the entrance to the unit and made a
quick call to Roxie to bring her up to speed.

Just as he hung up, he was relieved
to see a couple of familiar faces exiting the ICU. Detective Dane Alter and his
St. Louis counterpart, Lemond Nolan, strode toward him.

“Thank God!” Will exclaimed.
“Nobody will tell me anything! How is Susan? Is she going to make it?”

Nolan put his hand on Will’s
shoulder. “It’s looking pretty good, Will. The knife miraculously missed Sue’s
vital organs, but the doctor says she’s not out of the woods yet. There’s
always a risk of infection and internal bleeding in cases such as this, but her
prognosis is good.”

Will rubbed his forehead, trying to
smooth out the stress lines. Earlier, Lemond Nolan had conducted most of the
questioning regarding the incident at St. Mary’s. Will had liked the man
immediately, and he now revised his earlier high opinion upward a few notches.
“Can I see her?”

Nolan looked at Alter. “I don’t see
any harm. Maybe she’ll open up to him.”

Alter gave a slight nod, and Nolan
turned to Will. “She hasn’t been exactly forthcoming with us. Then again, she’s
still drowsy and on pain meds. But, the nurses are in with her right now; they
ran us off, told us they need twenty minutes or so. So, we’ll give them a
little while to finish up and then we’ll take you in to see her. Why don’t you
go over to the waiting area and have a cup of coffee? You look like you could
use one. That and a couple of strong painkillers.”