Punish the Deed (29 page)

Fifty-Six

Lucinda went a third of the way down the hall before Murphy shouted, “Stop! Hold up your hands.”

She did as she was asked, all the while pivoting her head around looking for Murphy.

“Lace your fingers on the top of your head.”

Again, Lucinda obeyed, hoping that her jacket was long enough in the back to cover the handgun concealed in her waistband.

“Don’t turn around. Start moving.”

Lucinda realized he was behind her in the hallway.
Can he see my gun? Will he remove it? Will he shoot me for having it? Or is it still hidden?
She slumped her shoulders, attempting to give the jacket more length. She wasn’t sure if it did any good. She tried to feel any sensation that would indicate whether or not the weapon had been revealed but could only stir up exaggerated images from her imagination. She kept walking.

“Stop!” he said again, resurrecting Lucinda’s fear that he could see her weapon. “Turn around,” he ordered. He stared at her. “What the hell happened to you?”

“It’s kind of a long story. Is there someplace where we can sit and talk?”

“Cute. Oh sure. We’ll just sit down and have a cup of coffee and chat. Get real.” He leaned toward her, looking at her face. “That eye ain’t real, is it?”

“What do you mean by real? As in, is it a figment of your imagination? That kind of real? If that’s the question, yes it is real.”

“Stop jerking my chain. You know what I mean. It’s a glass eye, isn’t it?” He leaned even closer. “Yes it is. A glass eye. They sent a one-eyed cop after me. What a trip. Start walking. Don’t turn around. Walk backwards.”

When Lucinda’s back bumped into the end of the hall, she was standing by a door with a key ring hanging from the knob. “Open the door,” Murphy ordered.

She did and stood facing the remaining hostages. Quickly she counted them – eight.

“Get in the room. Hirschman, you come with me.”

“Cheese, why do you need Hirschman?” Lucinda objected.

“Because he’s the Goodie Two Shoes I came for.”

“But Cheese, I’m a cop. The ultimate symbol of authority. I should be the focal point. I represent everyone who left you behind.”

“Good try. But no. I need a Goodie Two Shoes. It’s the Goodie Two Shoes who gotta die.”

“Cheese, c’mon. I’m a cop. That makes me a Goodie Two Shoes. You don’t need the dentist.”

Murphy laughed at her. “Goodie Two Shoes? You? Not hardly. You’re more the avenging angel type.” Murphy jerked on Hirschman’s elbow, forcing him into the hall. “One Eye, you keep these people quiet in here and maybe they can live. Anybody comes out in this hallway and they’re dead. I’ll be back before you know it.” He shut the door.

Lucinda listened as the footsteps went down the hall. She heard another door open.
Was that descending footsteps?
“Is there a basement in here?” she asked.

“Yes,” one of the two remaining hygienists said.

“What’s down there?”

The executive director of the program spoke up. “Old office furniture, old dental equipment, file cabinets full of old files, the water heater, furnace, Christmas decorations, that sort of thing.”

“Lots of places to hide, then?” Lucinda asked.

“Yes, there sure are.”

“Damn.” Lucinda went to the far side of the office where there was another door. “Does this lead to the outside?”

“Yes, but it’s solid metal and the lock can only be opened with a key.”

“Damn,” Lucinda said again. “What about this window?”

“We tried. It’s painted shut and won’t budge,” the executive director said.

Lucinda tugged up on it without any success. She thought about sending them down the hall and out of the building but discarded that idea. Murphy would be sure to hear all those footsteps over his head and she couldn’t predict what he’d do. She had to get them to safety before she confronted Murphy.

“Duck down behind the desk or file cabinet. We could have some flying glass.” She threw a visitor’s chair through the window then grabbed the coat tree and used it to clear away the worst of the jagged edges. “Okay, c’mon. Hurry, Hurry! Out the window. Don’t cut yourself. Watch where you put your hands. Run around that side and to the front.” She pulled the cell out of her pocket. “Jake?”

“Yes. What is it? What was that noise?”

“I busted out a window. Hostages coming your way.”

“Holy crap. They sure are. Is that all of them?”

“No. He’s still got Hirschman. I’m going after him.”

“I’m coming in.”

“No. Don’t. This is a solo operation. More than that won’t work.”

“Lucinda . . .”

“I don’t have time to argue, Jake. Trust me. Gotta go.”

Lucinda crept down the hall, turned into the office side of the reception area and crossed it to the administrative wing. She took stealthy steps down to the end of that hall to the open basement door. She leaned against the wall, her gun straight-armed by her side. She took a deep breath, lifted her weapon and swung around into the stairway. She cringed. Stairways are the worst. She knew if he was looking in her direction, he had a better view of her than she could possibly have of him.

She descended, taking each step with care, peering under the wall and into the basement. On the landing, she froze in place to listen. There was a small amount of sound over in the left corner. She rushed from the stairway to a large vertical file cabinet. She peered over it. In the distance she saw Murphy and his victim. Murphy had a large, fixed-blade hunting knife up against Hirschman’s throat. Even from this far away, she could see that he’d already drawn some blood – it glistened on the blade and smeared on the dentist’s white jacket. Murphy whispered something she couldn’t hear into Hirschman’s ear. Hirschman flinched. Murphy laughed.

“Cheese!” she hollered.

He turned his head to look in her direction.

“Drop the knife, Cheese.”

“Or what?” Murphy said, digging the knife a little deeper into Hirschman’s throat.

“Cheese, don’t make me kill you.”
Dear God, not this again
, Lucinda thought as the image of another victim in another sociopath’s hands floated to the surface of her thoughts.
Please don’t make me kill again. Please let him drop the knife.

Murphy stood up straighter, pulling Hirschman up with him. He held the blade in his right hand, his elbow jutting out at a sharp angle. His chest was blocked by Hirschman but Murphy’s head stood clear. It would be a good shot.

“Drop the knife, Cheese,” she repeated.

“You only got one eye. There’s no way you can make this shot from that distance. Give me a break, bitch,” he laughed.

Lucinda pulled the trigger.

Fifty-Seven

The knife flew out of Murphy’s hand, nearly hitting the bare light bulb before it dropped and clattered on the concrete floor. The dentist slumped down like an empty duffle bag, grunting on impact. Murphy’s scream pierced Lucinda’s ears. Then he fell to the floor, writhing.

Lucinda ran first for the hunting knife Murphy had held to Hirschman’s throat and kicked it out of the way. She reached into Murphy’s pockets, turning them inside out and recovering a handgun and a phone. She knelt by Hirschman and pulled out her cell. She could hear Jake shouting her name before she got the device to the side of her face. “Jake. Paramedics. To the basement. Quick.”

“Are you injured?”

“No. The hostage is. The perp is. I’m fine.”

She slid her cell back into her pocket. “Dr. Hirschman?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the dentist said. He looked up at her but his eyes didn’t focus. Lucinda wasn’t sure if he really saw her at all.

“You’re going to be fine. You’ve got a nasty slice on your neck that is bleeding quite a bit. But he didn’t cut anything vital. I’m going to put some pressure on your neck now, please lay still. Help is on the way. Do you know where you are, Dr. Hirschman?”

“Yes. I’m . . . no, no, where am I?”

“Hush, Dr. Hirschman, it doesn’t matter. It’s over now. Everything’s going to be all right. Hear those footsteps above our heads? Paramedics are almost here.”

The emergency medical technicians clattered down the steps. Lucinda rose, pointing to Hirschman and said, “Him first.”

Murphy continued to writhe on the floor, alternating between screams and whimpers.

Jake grabbed both of Lucinda’s forearms with his hands and pulled her close. “You’re okay? You’re really okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. It was tense for a while but I’m fine.”

“You’ve got a lot of blood on your clothes.”

“Hirschman’s. Not mine.”

Two more paramedics brushed past them on the way to care for Murphy. Jake nodded his head in the wounded man’s direction and said, “Where did you hit him?”

“I was aiming for the knob on his raised elbow but I’m not sure if I got it.”

A paramedic turned and looked up at her. “Got it? You nailed it. I don’t think they can put the pieces all together again.”

A smug grin flashed across Lucinda’s face.
Damn, I’m good
. She stepped over to look down at Murphy. “Sorry about that, Cheese. I know it hurts like hell but my only alternative was a bullet to your head and I just didn’t want to do that.”

Murphy glared up at her. She turned to walk away but before she could take a step, she dropped to the floor.

“Oh, damn, that burns!” she cried out. Jake stepped down hard on Murphy’s hand, where a small knife glistened red.

“You asshole,” he said through clenched teeth, bent down and took the switchblade away from Murphy. To the paramedics, he said, “Take care of the Lieutenant. I’ll frisk this bastard and get him out of your way.”

Lucinda used her hands to try to push herself back to her feet but fell again. She heard the paramedics telling her to stay still but their voices sounded as if they were coming from far away buried under a mountain of snow. Suddenly she felt cold, very cold. The only thing that spoke to her loud and clear was the pain. It tore through her body and felt like it blasted the top off of her skull. It burned. It ached. It stung. It throbbed.
What did he do? Why did I fall?
She wanted to ask those questions out loud but couldn’t form any words. Her lips moved but nothing intelligible passed her lips.

“Agent, looks like he severed the Lieutenant’s Achilles tendon.”

Achilles tendon? Achilles tendon?
Lucinda wondered.
What is that? Where is that? In my leg? My foot? Yes. That’s it. It connects the two. Damn, it hurts.

Murphy shrieked as Jake twisted his arms back to cuff them together.

“Uh, Agent, that man is seriously injured,” a paramedic objected. “You shouldn’t be putting him in cuffs. You could cause more damage.”

“I don’t give a shit! Take care of the Lieutenant. I’ll get this jerkwad out of here.”

Going up each step, Murphy’s body thumped against the riser. He screamed and Jake yelled, “Shut up!” The rhythm of their departure filled the evening air with a revolting rhapsody. Lucinda heard the noise but could not understand it – bass, soprano, tenor, over and again. She felt the urge to snap her fingers but found she couldn’t get her thumb to connect with her middle finger.