Killer Love (64 page)

“It will only take a second. I wanted to apologize for, you know...”

A warm trickle slowly worked its way through her. He looked shy, embarrassed, and utterly irresistible. Suddenly, she wanted to cry, but instead, she smiled. “No need to apologize. But we’ll talk later, okay?” Sam tried to keep the catch out of her voice but wasn’t successful.

Dex frowned, glanced at Todd once more, then nodded. “Sure. I’ll call you.”

Hawkins climbed on his Harley and slid the helmet over his head. He waved as Brahern halted Sam next to the Impala. He instructed her to open the door and climb in on the driver’s side, then slid into the passenger seat next to her. When they left the parking lot, Hawkins was still sitting on his bike, watching them drive away.

****

Sam drove slowly, following Brahern’s directions, mentally reassuring herself that everything would be okay. She’d figure a way out of this.

Brahern was no match for her skill, although his hysteria, not to mention the .22, might give him a slight edge. In the passenger seat next to her, the man was a wreck.

“Oh God, this is getting out of control,” he muttered. He tapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Think, think, think. There has to be a way... No, I have to, I have to kill a cop.”

“You don’t have to,” Sam said calmly. “It’s not too late to stop this. We can get you help.”

He shook his head vigorously. “I killed two people.”

“You killed Mona Morrison and Carson Clayton.” It was a statement, not a question. He’d just confessed, but it wouldn’t do her any good if she didn’t live to tell someone. At his nod, she asked, “How’d you get the snake in Clayton’s office?”

“I didn’t. I hired a guy to handle it all for me.” He barked a short, nervous laugh. “It’s the damndest thing. Did you know you can get pretty much anything on the black market these days? Not just drugs and guns, but all kinds of stuff. Even deadly snakes and someone to plant them for you.”

Yes, she knew that, but how did an insurance salesman from the Midwest know that? “Who planted it for you?”

“Oh, no. I’m not giving you names. In case you live, I’ll be as good as dead if I squeal. I paid a guy ten thousand dollars—took it out of my retirement plan—and he handled everything. Got the snake, bribed someone in the cleaning crew to let him take their place, planted the snake, yada yada yada.”

What he didn’t know was, if she survived, he’d just given her a place to work backward from, starting with the cleaning crew. Key word ‘if.’

“Why are you doing all this? Because of your brother’s suicide?”

They were now on the highway heading east. She passed a cruiser, wishing she could signal to him, but with the .22 gyrating around in the car, she wasn’t going to take a chance.

“Keith was my baby brother. I protected him all his life. Until he...”

A sob tore from his throat and he covered his mouth with his non-gun hand. He closed his eyes tightly, briefly, then swallowed and went on, “That bitch humiliated him. Our father made our life hell growing up, then Keith married Krista, and she broke his heart. Just when he was getting his life back together, she takes him to court and humiliates him in front of millions of people. So, I killed the judge with her own weapon. The gavel she used to destroy people’s lives. So, you see, it was poetic justice. Clayton aired the show in spite of me begging him not to. Clayton was a snake in the grass—a snake took his life. Poetic justice.”

He took a deep breath and said quietly, “I promised my brother I’d take care of him. I didn’t do everything I should have to save him, but I’m hoping what I do now will bring him peace.”

Brahern instructed her to take the exit that led to the mall where Krista Turpin worked. It was a few hours before the mall opened and the lot was empty. He directed her to a parking space on the east side, away from the highway.

Still holding her at gunpoint, he ordered her out of the car. They walked for a few minutes until she finally realized he was leading her to the opposite side of the mall.

“Why didn’t we just park on this side?” Sam asked.

“Don’t want your car to be out in plain sight. The roads back there aren’t nearly as busy.”

He stopped her in front of a door barely noticeable in the bricks of the mall. The knob opened under his hand and Sam wondered why it was unlocked—wondered how he’d made all this happen—and how, if she was as good a cop as she’d thought, she didn’t see behind his pleasant, unassuming exterior to the monster underneath.

The door led to blackness. Even though it was nine a.m and the sun was out, the darkened interior of the space made it seem like midnight.

“Move,” he commanded.

Sam hesitated, knowing if she entered the room, her chances of getting help decreased dramatically.

“Look,” he said, his voice rising in pitch. “I’m kind of starting to lose it here. I’m getting scared and I want this over with. You gotta do what I say. Now. Get in!” The last ended on a wheedling screech and when Sam still didn’t move, he began to scream, “Get in, get in, get in...,” quaking like someone having a seizure.

“Okay,” she said, placating. “Just calm down and—”

But before she could finish, there was a deafening boom. Sam recognized it as a gun blast just before a sudden force struck her thigh, as if she’d been punched.

Then, she was tumbling backwards, slamming painfully against concrete, dimly aware she was falling down a flight of steps into the blackened pit. There was no pain in her thigh yet, but there would be. The splatters of blood landing on her face as she fell told her she’d been shot.

Sam wasn’t sure which pain was worse, her head slamming against the unyielding concrete, or the gunshot wound that was now beginning to throb like a son of a bitch. Before she could decide, she hit bottom, and blackness took her.

Chapter Thirteen

Samantha’s eyes flew open when a hot, piercing pain streaked through her leg and up into her chest. She clenched her teeth and bit back a moan, not wanting to alert Brahern that she was awake.

She was still in that all consuming darkness, unsure of how long she’d been out. Something cool and solid was against her back. Was she lying on concrete?

She tried to move, to come to a sitting position, but it only made the pain worse. Sweat popped out on her forehead and nausea swam up to her throat. She thought she might vomit, or maybe lose consciousness again. Taking deep, slow breaths through clenched lips, she willed the nausea away, forcing her mind to think this through, figure a way out.

The leg was bad. She’d taken a bullet and she’d lost a lot of blood. And the pain. Oh God. The pain. It felt as though someone had taken a hand saw and attempted to dismember her from the hip down.

She’d been shot before, in the shoulder, but that time she’d been taken to the hospital before the shock had worn off. Now she knew exactly what being shot felt like. And it hurt like hell.

A bright light flicked on—a flashlight—aimed at her eyes. She squinted, trying to see Brahern behind the glare.

“What are you doing?” she rasped, her throat raw, the nausea still clawing at her insides.

He knelt and placed the flashlight on the ground. The beam partially illuminated the murky space, but all Sam could see beyond Brahern were shadows of shapes. Boxes, maybe?

He gripped her shoulders, pulling her to a sitting position. She cried out as agonizing shards of pain ripped through the wound, burning a path through her entire body. When she was propped against the wall, she realized her hands were tied in front. She took deep, gasping breaths, a rush of tears streaming down her face. She was humiliated at her show of weakness, but the pain was so severe, she couldn’t control it.

“Here.” He squatted next to her and shoved a needle in her vein, pressing the plunger on a syringe. “There’s a little pain killer for you. I don’t want you totally pain-free, but if you’re bawling the whole time, you won’t concentrate on what I’m saying. I’ve wrapped your leg to help slow the bleeding, but of course, the bullet’s still in there.”

She wondered how and why he’d come to be in possession of injectable pain medication, but she didn’t question him and didn’t respond. Instead, she leaned against the hard wall, clenching her teeth, waiting for the pain to ease. After a few minutes, it did. It was still there, but now it was a dull throb. Bearable.

He picked up the flashlight and stood, towering over her in the semi-darkness. His face was partially in shadows, giving him the macabre look of one of those late night horror movie characters.

“What are we doing here?” she gasped.

“I’m going to make you part of the plan I already had in motion. I’m going to burn this son of a bitch down, and you’ll get the blame.”

“That’s insane. No one would possibly believe I did something like that.”

“You wouldn’t think so, would you? But, I’ve left a few clues to make sure they will. I had to hurry, you understand, your role in this was a recent development. But, I planted an article I had on me about remote explosives, starting fires, so on and so forth, in your car. I spilled some gasoline in your trunk. When I give my statement about the way you talked during our drive, the way you changed your mind at the last minute about taking me to the station for questioning, how you rambled on and on about doing something in a big way to further your career—”

“You can’t be serious.”

He nodded rapidly. “Oh, but I am. I’ve left evidence that should lead them to the conclusion that you intended to start a fire so you could rescue people from the mall, but it looks like you were overcome by smoke and didn’t make it. Sadly, you and several others perished in the fire. If they don’t quite buy it, no matter. At least you’ll be dead and you’re the only one who suspects I murdered the judge.” He offered a ghastly smile that stretched his face into a gruesome facsimile of a human being. His nerves must have calmed because, although there was still tension in the set of his face, he seemed more confident than he had earlier.

“This will never work. You can’t possibly—”

“Yes, yes I can,” he interrupted. “At first, I was a little freaked when I caught you in my office. But then, true inspiration hit and I came up with a foolproof plan that wouldn’t implicate me, yet, you will be dead, as will that bitch of an ex sister-in-law. You know, kill two birds with one stone. Of course, a lot of other birds have to die in the process. But, I don’t know them and it’s worth it to me. They’re simply casualties in my quest to destroy one particular bird...the red-beaked, large-breasted whore bird.” He gave a guffaw of laughter. “Pretty clever, wouldn’t you say? I just made that up. And see, this is the final coup de gras. Krista burned my brother. Now, she’ll burn.” A smile stretched his lips. “Poetic justice.”

“How do you think you’ll pull this off without dying yourself?”

“Not to worry, Detective. I have a remote detonator that will spark those.” He shone the flashlight on an enormous mound of wadded newspapers and kindling. A gasoline can sat nearby.

“Once I’m safely at my alibi location, I’ll detonate the spark and alight the pile. You, being injured and tied up, will be unable to do anything about it.”

His eyes glinted maniacally in the dancing shadows. She had to do something. Now.

He was standing directly in front of her. Could she kick him in the crotch with her good leg? She may not have a lot of strength, but one well-placed kick could...

Could what? Provoke him to grab the pistol and shoot her again? This time in the head? Forget it. Weak, tied up, injured. She didn’t stand a chance against an able-bodied man with a gun.

“We are directly underneath the store where Krista works,” Brahern continued. “So she, at least, will most definitely die, as will you, before the fire can possible be contained. The ropes will be burned away, so the investigators will never know you were bound. That’s why I have your hands in front of you. It would look suspicious if your remains are found with the hands in back.”

The scenario he painted made her stomach roil. Her thigh was starting to throb even more, the pain rearing its head once again. He had it all figured out. Whether or not they believed she’d set the fire on purpose, she, along with Krista and countless others, would die. A slow, painful, horrible death. Frustration and helplessness coursed through her and she felt tears at the back of her eyes. But, she wouldn’t cry for this son of a bitch again. She’d at least die with some dignity.

She wasn’t ready to give up quite yet. Her mind worked frantically, searching for a solution. He was truly insane, delusional. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

“Listen,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, to sound convincing. “You gave me an idea. But we’ll need to work together.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

She sucked in a deep breath, wiping sweat from her brow with her shoulder. “I’m up for a promotion, trying to make rank to sergeant. This could be perfect for both of us. We don’t have to kill anyone else, though. Only Krista.”

He grinned skeptically. “You’d be willing to kill Krista?”

She thought hard, trying to recall how this had played out in her head moments before. “Yeah. I don’t like her anyway. Her and those fake boobs, blonde bimbo thinks she’s better than everyone else. How about if I could fix it where only Krista dies? I’ll make it look like I was trying to save her, but she dies and neither of us are implicated.”

His glance moved down to the ground, as if he were considering her offer. He looked back up at her. “How would you do it?”

How
would
she do it? She didn’t know, couldn’t think this through. She was hurting too badly. Her mind wasn’t working like it should. “I would start a fire and rush in to clear the building. As I herd people out, I would come up behind Krista and knock her unconscious. In the confusion, no one would notice. It would look like she was overcome by smoke and unnoticed in the rush of people fleeing.”

He smiled and her hopes soared. Until she realized it was a mocking smile.

“Good try, Detective. But I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you would do it, or that it would work if you did.” He shook his head. “Sorry. We’re going with my plan. You won’t make sergeant after all. However, it makes my idea even more convincing. Your desperate act was to ensure the promotion. Thanks for the tip.”