Port of Sorrow (21 page)

CHAPTER
44

Finn heard the shotgun boom and the shattering of glass as he leaned against a wall, gasping and wheezing, fighting off nausea, just across the street from Julia’s apartment.

In blind panic, he dashed across the street, smashed through the ground floor door and ran up the stairs. He stopped dead when he burst into Julia’s apartment.

Two bodies, covered in a blanket of wet blood, lay on the floor beside the bed.

“Nooooooo,” Finn screamed as he crossed to them and dropped to his knees.

Julia was naked and unmoving.

Her attacker no longer had a head.

Finn wiped the blood from Julia’s face and felt her neck for a pulse. She was breathing. Trying to remain calm, he lifted her up and took her to the shower. There, he turned on a lukewarm spray to wash away the blood in a desperate search for any wounds.

He began to weep with relief when he discovered all the blood had come from her attacker.

Julia stirred in his arms and Finn turned off the spray.

“Can you hear me?” he asked.

Julia stared into his face, her hands reaching up to rub her ears.

“Is he dead?” she asked.

Finn nodded.

Julia began to weep.

“I’ll let you get dressed,” he said gently. “The rest of your department will probably be here soon.”

At the bathroom door, Finn stopped, his eyes burning with shame. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” He closed the door.

SHERIFF MARSHALL KICKED
open the door to Julia’s apartment and rushed in. His shotgun was firm against his shoulder, and his face was an iron mask of anger. Four deputies followed quickly behind, their handguns drawn.

Finn sat on a wooden chair, his hands raised with fingers spread wide to show he was unarmed.

“I’ve just arrived,” he said before anyone got jumpy. “Julia is okay. She’s in the shower.”

Marshall crossed to the bathroom, his gun never drifting from Finn. He hammered on the door with his fist and hollered, “You in there, J.L.? You okay?”

When Julia answered, Marshall lowered his gun and signaled for the other deputies to do the same. After holstering their guns, the deputies remained frozen in place, their eyes locked on the sheriff. Marshall walked around the sofa bed to look at the bloody mess on the floor, wall and ceiling.

“Jesus,” he groaned. “Who’s the headless blunder?”

“I believe his name is Wells,” said Finn. “I recognize the boots.”

“The guy you accused of killing your friend?” Marshall asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Finn nodded and the beginning of a cold smile cracked his lips.

“Who killed him?” Marshall asked.

“Julia, I guess.”

At the mention of her name, Julia walked out of the bathroom. She was wrapped in a white terrycloth robe. Its color, or lack of, matched the shell-shocked pallor of her face.

Finn immediately gave up his chair. It was the only place left to sit that wasn’t sprayed with blood.

“Jesus, J.L. What the hell happened here?” Marshall hunkered down beside her. His knees crackled under the strain.

Julia tried to formulate the words, but nothing came.

Marshall glanced over at the huddle of nervous deputies. “Who has a flask?”

None of the deputies moved.

Marshall exhaled noisily. “Off the record. No reports. Someone give me a damned flask.”

Deputy Olivier, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, reached into his jacket pocket to produce a circular steel flask. He handed it over with an embarrassed flush.

Marshall unscrewed the top, sniffed its contents and shuddered.

“What the hell is this?”

“Homemade mash,” Olivier answered.

“Jesus, don’t we pay you enough to buy some decent hooch?”

Marshall placed the flask in Julia’s hand and told her to take a sip.

When the sour mash splashed down her throat, Julia gasped and scrunched up her face. After a second sip, she felt some of the tension ease, allowing her to tell the story.

When Julia finished, Marshall immediately told one of the deputies to bag the shotgun and have it tested for a match against the stripper. He knew it was practically impossible to match up shotgun blasts, but even a close similarity would be enough to link Wells to Selene’s murder.

It didn’t take long before the tiny bachelor suite was filled with people, and Marshall excused himself to co-ordinate the investigation.

JULIA MOTIONED FOR
Finn to come closer and took his hand in her own. She squeezed it tight, relishing the strength and warmth she found there.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

She shrugged. “As a woman, you think about these scenarios: a strange man breaking into your bedroom. You go over it in your head. How will you react? Will you fight or submit? But when it actually happens . . . ” Her voice went quieter. “It’s all about survival, you know? The things you’ll do to stay alive.”

“You must have fought like a lion.”

Julia’s face was grim. “If he hadn’t turned on the lights . . . if I hadn’t seen his face . . . I’m not sure what I would have done. But when I saw it was Wells, it made me think of Selene . . . about her death. There was no way in hell I was letting him touch me.”

Finn looked over at the headless corpse that nobody yet had bothered to cover. “He won’t be touching anyone ever again. And before he gets to hell, I think Selene might just talk her way into getting him alone for a few minutes herself.”

Julia smiled. “I don’t know if the angels would go along with that.”

“Selene can be mighty persuasive when she wants to.”

Julia fell silent, then asked: “What did you mean earlier, when you said you were sorry for not arriving sooner?”

Finn cleared his throat and lowered his gaze. “I overheard Wells and another man talking about a plan to kill you.” He paused. “I screwed up and they caught me in the alley behind the hotel.”

“What?” Julia reached out to stroke Finn’s swollen face.

“I tried to get here sooner, but . . .” His voice trailed away.

“It’s over now,” Julia said quickly, fighting off the sudden urge to fall into his arms and squeeze the warmth from his body. The feeling surprised her. “Who was the other man?”

“I didn’t see his face.” Finn paused again. “But I know where he lives and I think he’s picked up another victim.”

“Where?”

“I’ll have to show you. It’s not far outside town.”

“Sheriff!” Julia yelled, jumping to her feet. She could feel fresh adrenaline energizing her blood.

Marshall rushed over.

Julia turned to Finn. “Tell the sheriff what you just told me while I get dressed. We have to move on this now.”

WHILE JULIA DRESSED
and the sheriff’s department mobilized, Agent Cryre Rayne was pacing the deserted station house awaiting word that his team was in the air.

Every nerve ending in his body was screaming for him to act on Gilles’ information by himself, but the memory of Picasso and the last time he had gone solo effectively drowned them out.

He would wait.

CHAPTER
45

Big Brother wondered what was taking Little Brother so long to phone with news of Wells’ death.

Daybreak was less than three hours away and not even Wells would be stupid enough to leave the deputy alive this long.

He turned to look at his present sitting in the corner. The sight of it churned the urges building within him, but he wouldn’t allow himself more pleasures before Little Brother called to assure him everything was going according to plan.

He screamed to release the tension, laughing as his present jumped awake with fright. Tears flooded from its eyes, snot dribbled from its nose, and two streams of blood trickled down the side of its mouth where the gag had rubbed the delicate flesh raw.

Big Brother laughed again before walking into the kitchen and picking up a skinning knife. Its edge was perfectly honed and the weight of it felt natural in his hand. He had a lot of practice with it in Alaska. The Inuit were very careful when they skinned an animal. A special treat was to gently peel back the caribou hide in search of fly larvae. The succulent eggs tasted like a grape wrapped in raspberry skin.

Big Brother slashed the air with the knife, scaring away the huddled ghosts of past victims who liked to hover around him when he was feeling anxious. He snorted with delight as he imagined their shadowy limbs being lopped off in just the perfect size for his garden.

The rush felt good.

Maybe, he thought, he should treat himself just a little. He had earned that much, surely.

LITTLE BROTHER GRIPPED
the steering wheel so tight that he could feel it bend. In front of him, kicking up a cloud of gravel and dust, drove Finn and Julia. Behind him were four more vehicles; each one loaded with cops baying for blood.

He didn’t know what he could do apart from making sure Big Brother didn’t leave his house alive or in any recognizable form. At least the pesky F.B.I. agent hadn’t been invited to the barbecue. He would have tried to take charge and set up some godforsaken siege to bring Big Brother in alive.

A tornado churned his insides as the lead car turned into the hidden driveway. Part of him felt relief that with Big Brother’s death all of his secret pain and shame could at long last be buried. But another part was overcome by sadness that for the first time in his life he would be truly alone.

As he turned into the driveway, Little Brother unclipped his regulation, pump-action, 12-gauge shotgun from between the seats and laid it on his lap. He would have plenty of time to mourn once the deed was done.

CHAPTER
46

As they sped to the suspect’s house with lights and sirens silenced, Finn explained about the kidnapped college student that he had followed from the bar. After Julia radioed the information to the other cruisers, Sheriff Marshall jumped in to tell everyone he wanted the victim rescued alive.

Another voice suddenly broke onto the airwaves. It said: “Sheriff, what the fuck is going on out there?”

“Who’s this?” asked Marshall.

“Special Agent Rayne. I’m at the station.”

“Ah, shit, sorry, Agent Rayne. Forgot about you in the panic. We’re moving on a suspect.”

“Where?”

“Take the one-twelve to Eden Valley, head East and follow the shit storm. I’ll post a deputy at the driveway to keep unwanteds out.”

Once they turned into the driveway, Finn pointed out the disguised acid pit. Julia slowed her car to a crawl and waited for the rest of the cruisers to catch up. With lights and sirens off, Julia inched the car off the road to swerve around the old tree trunk. The others followed patiently behind.

As they cleared the tree trunk, Finn saw a blur of motion coming straight towards them. Instinctively, he grabbed Julia’s sleeve and yanked her below the level of the dashboard. Julia screamed as a giant log wrapped in razor wire crashed through the windshield with such force it lifted the front of the car off the ground.

Finn and Julia feared they were about to be flipped upside down when the roof ripped open with a sickening screech.

“Stay down!” Finn yelled as Julia struggled against him.

The car crunched back to the ground as the log returned on its swing and whipped the roof clean off.

“Let’s move.” Finn kicked his door open and helped Julia crawl out. They made it clear before the log swung back on its third pass. The razor wire tore claw marks into the hood and ripped the steering wheel from the dash.

“Jesus,” Finn swore. “The bastard knows his engineering.”

On its return journey, the log smashed into the trunk with enough force to lift the rear wheels off the ground and send the car careening forward into a knot of trees where sharpened branches tore lethal holes through the radiator and into the cabin. Anyone still inside the car wouldn’t have stood a chance.

“He’s changed the traps,” Finn said breathlessly.

“And now he knows we’re coming for him,” Julia added.

LITTLE BROTHER USED
the anger he felt against his brother to fuel his words as he joined the group of deputies in formulating a new plan of attack. He couldn’t believe Big Brother had changed the traps without telling him.

That log could have just as easily been meant for him.

BIG BROTHER STOPPED
slicing the clothes off his gift when he heard the bone-jarring crunch of wood against glass and steel. It was followed quickly by a scream, and as he ran to the window he saw a dozen halogen eyes staring at him through the trees.

What had Little Brother done? Betrayed him? It was hard to fathom, but the sight of the cars reinforced the truth.

With a curse, Big Brother grabbed a chair and reached up to the rafters. He pulled down three shotguns and a handgun. Two of the shotguns were fully automatic AA-12s designed for and by the U.S. military and came with 40-round magazines that made them look like old-time gangster’s Tommy Guns, but with a lethal force that would have made Al Capone un-fucking-stoppable. He piled them by the window before running into the bedroom where, from under the bed, he dragged out a plastic case full of ammunition.

He could feel sticky sweat breaking across his forehead as he dropped the four-inch-thick oak kitchen table onto its side and pushed it against the wall by the front window. With the stone fireplace in the corner and the extra protection at the window, he would be practically invulnerable to a frontal assault.

He began loading his weapons — beginning with his favorites, the shotguns — when he was suddenly struck by inspiration.

He turned to his present and grinned.

SHERIFF MARSHALL DIDN’T
waste any time making sure his deputies grabbed their bulletproof vests from the trunks of their vehicles and slipped them on. He also insisted they grab the shotguns and unfasten the holsters to their handguns for quick retrieval.

“Should we wait for Agent Rayne?” Julia asked as she tightened her cumbersome, unisex vest, thankful for once for her small bosom.

Marshall looked around at his nervous band of officers. “We can’t wait,” he said. “We’ve been too fucking noisy and he’ll know these woods far better than we do. If he decides to run, we’re fucked.” He pointed at Finn. “You wait for the F.B.I. The rest of us are going in.”

Sweat beaded the sheriff’s upper lip as he switched on his flashlight and led his team into the trees. Although he had been ordered to remain behind, nobody seemed to notice when Finn joined the end of the line.

An owl hooted overhead and something small rustled through the undergrowth as Marshall stopped at a suspicious dirt mound in the path. After leading his deputies on a wide circle around it, the sheriff picked up a large rock and tossed it on the mound. A thick branch studded with sharpened spikes sprang out of the earth with barely a whistle. Anyone standing on the mound would have been killed silently and efficiently.

Marshall looked around at the pale faces of his inexperienced squad. “Follow my instructions to the letter, you hear? There’s no telling what tricks this bastard has up his sleeve.”

The deputies walked as if on a carpet of sleeping rattle snakes and reached the edge of the clearing without further incident. Marshall ordered them to spread out but not to make a move until he ordered it. The house in front of them was lifeless except for the dim glow of a fire crackling inside.

Finn stayed close to Julia as she moved off to the left. It was the same route he had taken previously when he snuck up to the side window.

Suddenly, the porch light flicked on to reveal a man sitting in a chair in the front doorway. One of the deputies off to the right panicked and fired off a shot from his handgun that hit the man in the leg.

Marshall screamed for everyone to hold their fire, but his voice was drowned out by a shotgun blast from the front window of the house that focused in on the flare of the deputy’s gun.

Another scream filled the night as the deputy was hit. The police radios on everyone’s belt crackled to life with the panicked voice of Deputy Olivier.

“Willis is down,” he said. “There’s blood everywhere.”

“Can you get him out?” Marshall asked.

There was a long pause, then, “It’s too late, Sheriff. The fucker killed him, clipped the top of the vest. Shit.”

“Everyone hold their fire,” Marshall ordered. “He doesn’t know where we are until we screw up. Just stay calm and stay low.”

Julia lay down on her belly, her shotgun focused on the front window of the house. Finn crawled over beside her.

“Jesus, Finn,” Julia muttered. “I thought you were staying with the car.”

“Too late now,” Finn replied with a humorless smile.

Julia didn’t smile back. “You don’t have a vest or a weapon. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Yes, I should. He’s the reason Selene is dead.”

“How do you know? Wells had the gun.”

“Wells may have pulled the trigger, but he’s the one who ordered it.”

Julia removed the Glock from beneath her jacket and handed it over. “Just don’t shoot me in the ass, okay?”

Finn nodded, his eyes locked on the house.

BIG BROTHER COULDN’T
stop giggling.

The idiot had shot at the gift and opened himself up for the kill. Even the bastard, carrot-eating rabbits that invaded his garden weren’t this dumb.

He switched off the porch light and crawled outside. Keeping his head low and ignoring the present’s whimpers of pain over its wounded leg, Big Brother placed his double-barreled shotgun in its arms. It was tough to position because of the way the present was tied, but he eventually got it. Next, he tied a long piece of string to the hairpin trigger and cocked both barrels.

This was going to be fun.

MARSHALL HAD JUST
managed to regain control of his deputies when the porch was lit up again and the figure in the doorway blasted at the trees with a shotgun.

This time three of the deputies fired back, tearing off huge chunks of flesh and slamming the body into the wooden frame of the doorway. Marshall screamed at them to hold their fire, but again his voice was drowned out

this time by rapid automatic shotgun fire from the window. The men hit the ground, but not before Deputy Romero’s bulletproof vest was blown apart.

When the shooting stopped, a blubbering deputy reported that half of Romero’s chest was missing.

Cursing the ineptness of his crew, Marshall knew it was up to him to stop the killing. Cupping his hands over his mouth, he yelled to the house, “This is the sheriff’s department. We have the house surrounded. You won’t be able to walk away. Can we talk?”

There was silence for a while before Big Brother called back, “I won’t go to jail. I won’t ever go to jail.”

Marshall lay on his belly, pondering his decision, before yelling back, “Can I come in and talk?”

Immediately, his police radio crackled with protest from the deputies. Marshall switched it off and stood up.

“I’ll leave my weapon here,” he shouted. “We can talk face to face.”

There was a short pause before, “Come into the yard where I can see you. You’re not welcome in my house.”

The red glow of the morning sun was just beginning to filter through the trees when the sheriff strode into the middle of the yard. All his deputies kept their guns aimed towards the front window, their trigger fingers aching from restraint.

“That’s far enough,” Big Brother said from within the darkness of his home. “Now what do you want to say?”

Marshall inhaled deeply before answering. The body of the young student was sitting in the doorway, covered in blood, no longer twitching.

“We need to figure a way out of this mess before anyone else gets hurt.”

“I already told you, I ain’t going to jail.”

“Maybe you don’t have to,” Marshall replied. “There are other places.”

“Asylums, you mean,” Big Brother interrupted.

“No, we can—”

“You want to lock me up? You want to throw away the key? Just like you did with mamma. I knew you were plotting something. Now after all these years, little brother, you want me gone, too.”

Marshall began to panic. He didn’t know if the deputies could hear the conversation. The blood drained from his face. Jesus, everything was going wrong. If Wells had done his damn job, none of this would be necessary.

Big Brother laughed. “You’ve always wanted to be me, haven’t you, little brother? You’ve always wanted to be the biggest one, the strongest one, the first born son.”

“We can work this out,” Marshall cried as his right hand slowly circled around his back to the gun stuck in his waistband. “I love—”

“It’s too late,” Big Brother hissed as he aimed the automatic shotgun at his younger brother.

Marshall tried to outdraw him, but before his gun could clear his flabby waist, a volley of shotgun blasts ripped through both his legs at the knees and he was slammed to the ground. The pain and screams of agony wouldn’t fight their way through the shock for a full minute.

In response, the shocked deputies began firing at the house with wild, unfocused abandon. The shots tore through the flimsy walls of the cabin and shattered the glass in the windows.

INSIDE, BIG BROTHER
lay on the floor in front of the stone fireplace and calmly checked his guns. When he was ready, he crawled across the floor, dug his fingernails into the cracks of the trapdoor and pulled it open.

With a smile still on his face, Big Brother lowered himself into the dirt hole.