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Chapter 587
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Conner watched Sloane break away from the horde of reporters and shuffle back inside the yellow barriers, lumbering back toward the Explorer like a weary bear. He yanked the door open and slid into the driver’s seat beside Conner.
“Bunch of assholes,” Sloane sighed as he pulled the door closed behind him. The solid thunk of the door gave evidence of his anger and frustration. “They all wanna know when we’re gonna get this guy, like we’ve got some kind of schedule cooked up telling us the day and time.” He rubbed a thick forearm slowly across his forehead, using his sleeve to wipe away the glistening film of sweat that mottled his skin, then twisted in his seat to face Conner. “So, what happened, Case?”
Conner recounted his story in detail, hating to think about how close he’d come, but knowing that talking about what he’d seen would implant it more firmly in his brain. By the time he finished, he was see
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Leesa's Advent Chapter 588
Conner forced his tired eyes open and glanced groggily at the clock atop the cardboard box that served as a nightstand beside his bed. His eyelids felt like sandpaper as he blinked to bring the blurred red digits into focus. It was just past seven. He groaned and pushed the sheet aside, feeling like he hadn’t slept at all, which was not far from the truth. After returning from the murder scene and his brush with the killer, he’d spent most of the night thinking and scribbling notes while his impressions were still fresh in his mind. Sometime after four o’clock, he finally dragged himself to bed, but even then sleep resisted him. Just one more hour in bed would be wonderful, but he had too much to do today.He rolled slowly to the side of the bed, swinging his legs over the edge and pulling himself up into a sitting position. For a moment he just sat there, head slumped forward while he rubbed his heavy-lidded eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to clear
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Conner knew he was chasing a long shot—the killer could just as easily practice on tin cans in some remote canyon. But at least it was something, an angle to pursue while the task force went about its work gathering a list of Superman costume buyers and interviewing everyone connected with Collins-Cline for some hint how the killer could have known about the costume in advance. Meanwhile, the Vice Squad production crew was at the beach, filming the revised scenes penned by Keith Stennie.Inspired by his buccaneer persona, Stennie had come up with an old pirate method of execution, one they were certain would attract the killer’s interest. The primary victim was to be buried in the sand up to her neck and left to drown as the tide rolled in. Conner hated the thought that they were risking someone’s life in such a horrid manner, but unless the investigation turned up some important information soon, someone was going to die next week whether they changed the s
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The wariness in Malomond’s eyes deepened. Conner knew most of his clients walked on the wrong side of the law, and Malomond would necessarily be protective of them. The ex-cop pulled himself erect and looked down at Conner. “I don’t talk about my customers, Case. You shoulda known that before you ever came here.” Conner held the big man’s gaze. “I know that. I’m hoping this one might be different.” “Why?” “Because the guy I’m looking for has killed seven people, including a ten-year-old kid. And he’s gonna keep killing until we stop him.” Malomond studied Conner. “What’s your interest? I heard you quit.” “I did. But this is a bad one. I’m unofficial, but I’m lending a hand.” Malomond’s look softened. He leaned back against the thick wooden rail fronting the shooting booth, his belligerence gone. “The guy you’re looking for don’t sound like none of my guys, Case. Honest.” “He’s probably not one of your regulars. Maybe a guy who comes in now and then, or was here for awhile and
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For the first time, the killer had a face.Perched on the edge of his couch, Conner stared at the two sketches in his hands. The light from the floor lamp beside the couch threw a soft glare on the portraits. They were good. Malomond had come through as promised, meeting with the police artist within three hours of Conner’s visit and providing a detailed, cop’s description, albeit one based on memories several months old. The first sketch showed the killer with long hair and a thick beard, the way he looked when he practiced at Malomond’s range. With the dark hair and beard covering much of his face, Conner thought he looked a bit like Charlie Manson, with one notable exception. In every photo he’d ever seen of Manson, the man’s eyes were fixed in a crazed, fanatical stare that let you know right away something was wrong inside him, that the wiring in his brain was different from other men. The Video Killer bore no such look. He looked tough, sure, but you could pass him on the street
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A kaleidoscope of emotions washed over him. Joy at seeing her. Surprise she would be here at all. Hurt and anger that she’d left him in the first place. A longing to hold her. Relief. Confusion. Desire. And finally, and most strongly, a warm feeling of love. The last surprised and pleased him. He’d begun to accept that his emotions had become hollowed, had almost grown used to moving through life in a semi-anesthetized state, shielded from the slings of pain, loss and sadness, but paying the price for that protection by being inured against joy and love as well. He had missed the change stealing over him these last few weeks, too busy devoting his thoughts and energy to catching the killer to notice the gradual reawakening of his feelings. His focus had been turned outward, leaving him oblivious to the transformation unfolding within. He had suffered the anger, the hate, the frustration and sadness engendered by the killings, had enjoyed the pride and anticipation of uncovering the la
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For Conner, the next two days passed slowly, filled with dogged frustration as the investigation ground forward. He pestered Sloane constantly for updated reports, but there was little to show for the thousands of man-hours the task force was spending chasing leads. Checks on the buyers of Superman costumes had produced no useful information so far, and visits to area car dealerships also came up empty. The detectives following those angles were more than halfway through their lists of targets, and by working through the weekend, expected to complete their work before Vice Squad aired Monday night. Everyone involved had been warned against linking the sketches and the questioning to the Video Killer, and so far, the existence of the drawings was still under wraps, though Friday afternoon Sloane received a call from a reporter asking about rumors the task force had pictures of a suspect. Sloane offered a strong denial, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the news wa
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Malomond dropped a couple of dollars on top of the bar and carried his coffee to a table next to the old jukebox. Conner followed and sat across from him.“What’ve you got for me, Sean?”Malomond cradled his cup in both hands. “What I got is big. Real big.” He looked Conner straight in the eye. “But it ain’t gonna happen unless we do it my way.”Conner met Malomond’s gaze. “You know I can’t promise that. Not until I know what we’re talking about.”Malomond thought for a moment before speaking. “I guess I can give you a taste, then. But I’m tellin’ you before we start, you can lean on me all you want, but it ain’t gonna do no good. I already got it figured.”Conner nodded, making no promises. Until he knew what Malomond had for him, he could make no decisions.“Let’s pretend I knew where your guy lived,” Malomond said,
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They rode in Malomond's car, a two-year old gold Cadillac that fit his personality perfectly and gave the burly ex-cop plenty of room behind the wheel. Malomond drove in a relaxed manner, steering the car through the city streets with the fingers of his left hand, his elbow resting on the open window frame like he was out for a simple pleasure cruise. A peppy Sinatra tune floated gaily from the CD player, adding to the illusion.Conner was anything but relaxed. Malomond had refused to share the killer’s address—insurance against Conner changing his mind, he said—so Conner had no idea how close they were to their destination. He could feel the adrenaline seeping into his system, quickening his pulse and shortening his breathing as he thought about taking the killer down in his own home, always a dangerous proposition, and more dangerous still with this guy. His recent brush with the killer was fresh in his mind—the man’s quick reactions and
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Serena awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the smell of fresh coffee brewing. She rolled over lazily, reaching out for Raphael, but the space was empty. With eyes still closed, she frowned. Where is that man? That man had probably been out of bed since the crack of dawn, beside himself with nerves for today’s big event, she thought regretfully. They were to be married today. Their lives intertwined for all of eternity. What man wouldn’t have cold feet at the prospect? And they’d known each other such a short time, too. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times, and frowned again. She had awakened in the safe house. Last night, she’d killed a man in her own home, and knew she could never go back there ever again. She didn’t care how good the Brethren’s cleanup crew could restore her home. It would never erase the vivid memories and horrors of what had happened there. She and Raphael would have to find themselves a new home, together. Until such time, this place would be it, th
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It’s going to be a long day without Raphael, Serena thought, as she washed and dressed. But she carried on. With so many loose ends to tie up, final checks to be made, people and places to coordinate, she scarcely had time to think about anything else. Except for her father. In the quiet moments between the bedlam of planning a wedding, she reflected upon him and her heart ached. She had arranged for a nursing home staffer to drive him and his wheelchair to the Chapel of the Holy Cross for the wedding. They didn’t usually allow weddings there, but somehow, Raphael swayed their decision. Kemuel promised to wheel her father down the aisle beside her, and she loved him instantly for that. But her dream was to have him walk her down that aisle. A sob caught in her throat, and she quickly shook her head to whisk it away. None of that nonsense, Serena. Don’t be greedy. At least he is alive and here to be a part of it all. As the day waxed on to evening, Serena felt unsettled. She hadn’t s
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Raphael spent the next few days cloistered with Serena, away from everyone and everything, like a honeymoon before the wedding. But every morning he made creative excuses to tear himself away from her for a little while and work with Fred. To make sure she didn’t visit her father, he dropped her off at her shop first so she could plan a small wedding with Callie and catch up on the mountains of paperwork.The healing sessions with Serena’s father went spectacularly, and with Raphael’s charisma, he convinced the nursing home staff to keep any improvements secret from her. They thought it romantic that he came to help with his fiancée’s father’s rehabilitation. Everyone there rooted for him, amazed at his miraculous awakening. All of the therapists worked their tails off during his therapy sessions, wanting to see their severely stroke-damaged patient beat the odds and walk his daughter down the aisle.On the morning of the fifth day, Raphael got Fred walking without any assistance.“Co
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Raphael grabbed her hands. “Do it!” he demanded. He placed them on his temples and spoke to her through their bonded connection. She felt every thought he had had of Sirona over the years straight to the present down their threaded connection. She heard every thought he’d had of her, including every word he had spoken while holding her in his arms at Dr. Chappo’s estate. He sent her everything that filled his heart and soul about her, and finally, at last, she knew.She knew. And knowing was everything to her. He gently brought her hands away from his face, kissing her fingertips as he eased them down, and she took a few steps backward, looking at him as if for the first time. No one before had ever felt about her the way he felt about her, let alone express so strongly all he’d expressed when she’d lain dying in his arms.“You’re in love with me.” She gasped, astonished. Tears welled again in her eyes, but this time, for a very different reason.“Yes.” He took a bold step toward her.
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A bundle of nerves, that’s what she’d turned into. Since leaving her father’s, Serena had been nothing but a bundle of nerves, rehearsing over and over again what she would say to Raphael up on the Rock. Looking all around her now, frightening memories kept popping into her mind, making her think that at any moment, Steve or Wheezer were going to jump out and nab her. Unfortunately, she had gotten to the summit way too early, and now paced like a caged bobcat. It had to stop. The bad guys are dead, Serena. Think positive, and let go the past. So, finding a suitable rock to sit on, Serena decided to do a little meditation to soothe her worried heart. “When I see him, I’ll know the right words to say,” she notified the birds. It may sting for a bit, but it’s for the best.****Raphael showed up at the base of the mountain with time to spare, and noticed Serena’s Jeep already parked. Perfect, he thought. He checked his pocket for the millionth time, making sure the ring box hadn’t fallen
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Raphael watched Serena leave the nursing home from behind one of the bushes in the front. She seems in good spirits, he thought. Only when he saw her disappear down the street did he dare to venture out of his hiding place. He walked into the nursing home and headed straight to the reception desk.“Hello, I’m here to see Mr. Sikes.” He smiled amiably at the receptionist.“Wow, two visitors in one day. Fred’s a lucky guy. Sign in right here, please. You’ll sign out before you leave. Take this badge so we know you belong here. Room 103 is down the hall, make a left, and he’s at the end on the left.”He looked at her name tag, and winked. “Thanks so much, Judy.”Walking down the hall, he found himself fidgeting with the badge in his hand. Am I actually nervous? Hell yeah! Raphael, the man, is about to meet the father of the woman he loves. Raphael, the man, is about to ask for this guy’s daugh
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Great! Just great! There’s a leak in my bedroom ceiling. Wait a minute, that’s not right. I’m not in my bedroom. I’m locked away in Dr. Chappo’s house. She remembered more. Being bound to a gurney, her body broken and dying. But I’m not lying on a gurney now, and I actually feel great. How could she be dying and still feel great? And what’s with the rain shower on my face? Slowly her eyes fluttered open, and she gasped.It was raining. Angel’s tears. Raphael’s tears, to be exact.She lay in his arms, and from the way he shuddered and sobbed, she thought maybe he didn’t know she lived. To be honest with herself, she’d only realized this fact just a few moments before. Iridescent wings were outstretched and trembling though no breeze made them flutter so.She gently raised her hand to caress his cheek and whispered softly. “Shh…there now, Raphael, shh. It’s all right. I’m ok
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Raphael noticed a knob on the box. It made sense to dial it to its lowest setting. He followed the tubing to its clamp on Serena’s side and decided to completely clamp it off. Now, no more blood could flow. But he still needed to get the needle out of her arm. He found gauze and tape on the tray stand and proceeded to extrude the catheter from her arm carefully so as not to injure her. He replaced it securely with the gauze and tape. His hands shook. I can’t fall apart like this right now! He quickly shrugged off the threat of paralyzing fear.“Hey, Raphael, this guy says his name is Steve. Isn’t that the name of one of guys who assaulted Serena?” Gabriel asked.“Yes, yes it is,” he said through gnashed teeth. Rage filled him and he clenched his fists, trying to gain some semblance of control. “Bind him, tightly. Make sure he can see Dr. Chappo. I’d like him to see what happens to assholes like him when they choose
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Searing hot pain shot like lightning throughout every inch of Serena’s body. Well, every inch she could feel, which left her very disturbed indeed, because she couldn’t feel anything past her waist. She could barely breathe without severe pain ripping through her chest and back. She knew what that meant—broken ribs. But what about her legs? Where were they? And why did her wrists feel shackled? Oh, dear God! What’s become of me? Her shallow breaths quickened. Her heart raced and fought for freedom behind her aching chest. Tears burst through her closed eyes and flowed untapped down the sides of her face.A voice sliced through the whooshing sound in her ears. A voice she knew all too well, and had come to despise with every molecule in her being.“Uh, Doc, I think she’s coming ’round. What do you want me to do?” Steve asked.“Hmm? Oh, nuffin. Nuffin, Seeve. Jus’ keep watchin’,” Dr. Chappo sl
