Blood Stains (31 page)

He glanced at the clock as he chewed. Nearly 7:00 p.m.

He took another bite, unaware of the blob of mayo hanging at the corner of his mouth, and scanned Ed Underwood’s file, making a mental note of Homicide Detective Bodie Scott’s home address.

The son of a bitch.

He was helping Sally hide.

So as soon as he finished eating, he was going to pay Scott a visit. If the lights were on, he was going to bet the rest of his life that was where the Tulsa P.D. had hidden her. Then he was going to take her out, her and the cop both, and end this bullshit once and for all.

He finished his food, swiped a napkin across his mouth, then moved toward his office. He needed his gun and silencer, a flashlight and some extra ammo, just in case. The only thing different this time around was the cop, so he would take him out first. Problem solved. Killing Sally would be easy. He’d already done it once before.

Sam couldn’t sleep. Every nerve in his body was on edge. He’d walked the perimeter of Bodie’s place twice and seen nothing to give him pause. The lights were on inside the house, but he didn’t feel like talking, so he’d gone back into the motor home, but without bothering to turn on his own lights. Instead, he’d gone to the fridge, gotten himself a beer and then settled down in front of the windows in the dark to drink his beer with a good view of the street and the house.

With the help of his GPS, Franklin drove right to Bodie Scott’s house, but he didn’t stop. This first pass was a test run to check out the site. Seeing the lights on inside the house had been a confirmation that he was right. No way did the cop decide to go on vacation when he’d been lead detective on the reopened case.

What pissed off Franklin was that she’d been here all the time. If he’d only known, he wouldn’t have wasted time with the hotel, and he wouldn’t have gotten himself shot.

It was the same with a trial. Just when you thought you had it in the bag, there was always a surprise.

Yeah, life could be a bitch, and then it got worse.

It was always something.

But he knew how to take care of business. He’d proven that time and time again. He would fix this and then get his life right back on track. He
would
.

He took a second run past the house, going slower this time to verify the location of doors and windows, then turned at the corner for another run around the block, this time checking out the number of neighbors who were gone or in bed. The fewer witnesses reporting a disturbance, the easier it was to get away.

Sam knew that several of Bodie’s neighbors had teenagers, which meant plenty of coming and going.

But he knew cars. And he’d picked up instantly on the fancy headlights and taillights of a Mercedes as it drove slowly past the house, and thought to himself that there was a car he’d always wanted to drive.

It wasn’t until he saw it go past the second time, and even slower, that his instincts kicked in. It cost a bundle to drive a car like that. And it cost money to hire a killer, no matter how inept they were. Even if he was jumping to conclusions—even if it was nothing but a false alarm—he wouldn’t let anything else happen to Mary on his watch. He reached for his cell phone.

Bodie and Maria were asleep in a tangle of arms and legs, exhausted from what had been a combination of love and war.

When his phone rang suddenly, Bodie woke with a jerk, startling Maria enough that she woke, too, then began trying to unwind herself from his arms.

She pointed to the bathroom as he grabbed the phone.

Bodie couldn’t help noticing that she looked as good going as she did coming, then heard Sam’s voice in his ear and remembered he hadn’t said hello.

“Hey…Bodie! Bodie! You there?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry, Sam. I got distracted. What’s up?”

“It may be nothing, or it may be something, but there’s a Mercedes that’s made two sweeps past your house, and if I was a betting man, I’d lay money that he’s going to try for three.”

Bodie flew out of bed, grabbing for his pants and looking for his gun.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“In the motor home, in the dark, watching.”

“Don’t turn on your lights, but if you get a chance, can you get out and maybe get on the blind side of the house, then watch to see if the car comes around again?”

“Yep.”

“In case this is the real thing, if you see someone suspicious, don’t try to approach him on your own. Remember, he’s already killed twice this time around. I don’t want you to be the third. Just call the police for me. I’ll take care of us inside.”

“I can do that. You just make sure nothing happens to Mary.”

“Deal,” Bodie said, and hung up, then headed for the bathroom.

Maria was about to step into the shower when he stopped her with a look. Her heart began to hammer.

“What?”

“It might be nothing, but Sam saw the same car, a Mercedes, circling the block too many times. I can guarantee it’s not one of my neighbor’s cars. That’s out of our league in this neighborhood. Get dressed. I want you out of sight until I say it’s okay.”

“What if it’s him? What if he found us?”

“I hope to hell it
is
him,” Bodie muttered. “I want to see the bastard’s face before I shoot.”

Maria’s eyes widened. “You’re a cop. I thought you were supposed to arrest him.”

“If I’m lucky, he’ll shoot first. It’ll give me a damned good reason to shoot back.”

“I want a gun.”

Once again, he was in awe of her spirit. Instead of cowering, she wanted to fight.

He remembered the turkey shoot. “I have a hunting rifle.”

“Good. That’s what I shoot best.”

“I do not want you playing cop.”

She nodded.

“It’ll only be for your protection…just in case. Get dressed. I’ll get the gun.

She flew out of the bathroom, then remembered that her clothes were scattered down the hall, so she got new ones out of the closet. Within moments, Bodie was back. He handed her a rifle and a box of ammunition.

“I’m thinking you’ll know how to load this.”

She eyed the weapon. “Sure do.”

“Stay in this room. Stay on the floor and away from the windows.”

He turned out the light in the bathroom, then grabbed her and kissed her—hard.

“Love you,” he whispered.

“Love you more.”

She was on the floor between the wall and the bed before he closed the door. She kept waiting for fear to set in. For her heart to thump and her palms to sweat. But it didn’t happen. She felt calm. She felt secure. This was why she’d come. And if the killer was truly making a strike, one way or another, this would be over tonight.

Bodie had his cell on vibrate and was standing in the hall, just out of the glare of the living room lights. He’d turned on the television, upping the volume so that if the killer came up on the porch, he would assume his quarry was just inside, watching TV.

He hadn’t heard from Sam again, but something in his gut told him this was the night. The killer had to be in a panic. They had his DNA. He had to assume Maria might have remembered enough of her past to put him away. He was obviously desperate to even be considering this move, but then again, he hadn’t shown any restraint so far.

Bodie had his gun up, the safety off. Listening. Waiting. Watching for that one hint of motion, the tiniest indication that something was about to go down.

It was after the third sweep past the house that Franklin decided to make his move. He’d parked the car a couple of houses back and made his approach on foot. Dressed all in black, he felt part of the night as he slipped through the shadows between Bodie’s house and his neighbor’s. A part of him felt as if he was watching this unfold from outside himself, because this wasn’t how he had chosen to live. This was the behavior of the people he represented. But he’d learned enough from all their stories to remember what to do.

Lesson number one. Check for dogs.

He’d found the house. No fence, which probably meant no dog, but he’d approached from a back alley, which was how he saw the big man standing at the front corner of the house, slightly hunched over and watching the street.

He froze.

Son of a bitch. They knew he was coming!

His heart started to pound.

How the fuck had they made him?

Then he made himself focus. If there was a guard out here, it figured that Sally was inside.

Thankful he’d had the foresight to bring the gun with the silencer, he took aim and fired. The pop was less than the sound of a breaking balloon. The man’s body bucked, then made more noise hitting the ground than the gunshot that had taken him out.

Franklin waited, making sure the man was still down and that the shot hadn’t alerted someone else. After a couple of minutes, he grinned.

One down. At least two to go.

Nothing was moving. Not inside the house. And as far as Bodie could tell, nothing outside, either. He was about to head outside and check on Sam when he thought he caught a glimpse of movement out on the porch. He tensed, watching the windows, then the door, listening for the sounds of someone circling the house, but the television was making too much noise. The very thing he’d used to indicate they were home was defeating his purpose.

All of a sudden he saw the doorknob turn. Once to the left. Then once to the right. Testing, and finding it locked.

Shit. He wished he could tell Maria it was about to go down and she should get out of sight, but he had to trust that she was following his instructions.

His body tensed. His gaze was fixed on the doorknob as he took one slow, quiet step back, moving a little deeper into the shadows of the darkened hall as a knock sounded at the door.

He frowned. The killer was brazen enough to knock?

Then he remembered Nora. That was how the man had gotten her to the peephole. No way was he falling for that. He waited. A second knock followed.

Come on. Come on. Stop fooling around.

All of a sudden the door reverberated.

He’s kicking in the door! Damn, I hope Sam already called the cops.

One more kick and the door flew inward.

Bodie caught a glimpse of a black-clad figure flying through the air, and then he fired. The intruder was already firing as he rolled. Pop. Pop. Pop.

Bodie ducked. The killer had a silencer! Something must have happened to Sam or he would be in here by now, which meant no one had called the police.

Shit. He’d lost Sam, and now he’d lost sight of the intruder.

All of a sudden the man came straight up from behind the sofa, popping off shot after shot straight at Bodie’s hiding place. And then Bodie was on the floor, blood gushing from his shoulder. The bullet had gone through the wall and into his arm without stopping.

Get up. Get up. You can’t let him get to Maria.

He rolled, switching his gun to his other hand. He wasn’t a great shot with his left, but if he got close enough it wouldn’t matter. He crawled down the hall and into the first bedroom, reloading as he went. Then he pushed himself up, using the wall as support, and waited, listening for footsteps and hoping his neighbors had heard enough to call the police.

The sound of shattering wood, followed by gunshots, was all Maria needed to hear to know that the battle had begun. She was on her knees behind the bed, watching the door and the faint beam of light beneath it, when a sensation of déjà vu suddenly rocked her back on her heels.

God, oh, God…just like before and that strip of light under the door.

Some of the gunshots sounded funny. Sort of a firecracker-popping noise. It hit her that he was using a silencer. She heard Bodie return fire, and then a loud, sudden thump before everything went silent. She thought she heard a groan, then a shuffling, crawling noise. Someone was hurt! What if it was Bodie?

This was crazy. This was hell. The worst night of her life was happening all over again, but she wasn’t four anymore. And she wasn’t helpless. She came up and out from behind the bed in one leap and, in bare feet, moved swiftly to the door. She waited, listening, and then heard the sound of footsteps coming up the hall.

When Bodie heard the thump from the bedroom next to him, he knew Maria was no longer hiding. He couldn’t wait any longer. He stepped out from the door way with his gun leveled and found himself standing face-to-face with the startled intruder.

A shot rang out.

They both dived for cover.

But Bodie knew a rifle shot when he heard it.

It was Maria.

Maria was in the hall, the rifle still on her shoulder, ready to fire again. The fact that Sam was nowhere in sight made her nervous, the blood on Bodie’s shirt even more so. But it was the black-clad figure at the end of the hall on whom she focused.

The gun hung limply from his hand, as if he’d forgotten it was there, and the look of horror on his face was unmistakable.

Maria stepped out of the shadows into the light.

Franklin couldn’t believe it. Sally was armed. He didn’t know she knew how to shoot.

“You won’t shoot me,” he said.

Maria frowned. The man had to be crazy. Hell yes, she would shoot him—in a heartbeat.

“Drop your gun,” she said.

She heard Bodie groan and then a shuffling noise behind her. “Bodie! Stay down.”

She could hear him on his cell phone, calling 911, but her gaze was glued to the intruder.

“I said, drop your gun,” she repeated.

All of a sudden Franklin flinched. Her words had reminded him that he was armed. He swung the gun up, but not quickly enough.

The blast from the hunting rifle took him off his feet and slid him down the hall.

Pain radiated through him like cracks in a broken windshield, spreading outward as the light in the hall began to dim. And then Sally was standing over him, that rifle up against his chest.

Blood was bubbling from the corner of his mouth as he tried to point up at her.

“Sally…didn’ know…didn’ know you could shoot.”

“I’m not Sally,” Maria said. “I’m Maria. And I’m not four—and you don’t scare me anymore.” Then she got down on one knee until they were staring face-to-face. “Just so you know…after you die, I will put your goddamned ashes in a sack and throw them off a bridge into the Arkansas River…just like a litter of unwanted pups.”