The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel (19 page)

Sherry smiled at the last sentence and felt she had learned something interesting about red onions.

She picked up her wrap and walked over to Prospect and turned up the hill to Rachelle and Madison’s house. When she got to the house she settled in at the kitchen table and ate her wrap. It was the best peanut butter and banana sandwich she had ever had. She was conflicted as to whether she should tell Bud, though. His head was big enough. Her thoughts amused her so much she started laughing out loud. She decided to text Bud and tell him he was right. She never got an answer, because Bud was having a grand old time doing one of his favorite things: listening, dancing, and singing to songs of the “Master DJ from PJ from Rantin’ Ravin’ Entertainment,” a local celebrity on the dance scene who canceled a gig just to be at this memorial celebration. The party sounded so good that many of the local young women could not resist going upstairs to check it out to crash the party.

Bud did not even realize that Paul was over in the corner talking to Allan, Rachelle, and Madison. He managed to catch a glimpse of Madison leaving for her date about 8:30 and caught her eye for a second to wave goodbye to her. The Master DJ from PJ then put on the song that raised the party to a new level. The beginning riffs of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” started, and it was all Bud needed to be the main attraction. He started lip-syncing the song like he rehearsed it a few times. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch, some with their mouths open, some moving their hips watching Bud, and some smiling. Everyone stopped to watch Bud take center stage. By the time the second verse started, Bud had everyone captivated. He moved his arms and legs perfectly to the music while he lip-synched the lyrics. All were in shock as the crowd watched as the verse from the song repeated again and went into the fourth verse. Bud didn’t miss a word as everyone stopped talking and socializing to watch him. There was heavy sweat coming off his forehead, but he carried on without missing a beat. Paul watched without missing anything, but Rachelle did hear him say, “You are one sick, crazy bastard!”

She swatted him on the chest. “Hey,” she said laughing.

Paul just shook his head, smiling as Bud continued. He was determined to do the whole song without missing a beat or a word. Even the DJ was having a great time watching. It had been a very long time since Rachelle had laughed, smiled, giggled, and danced at the same time. She cheered Bud on to finish the song. “Keep going, Bud, don’t stop. Love it!”

Paul glanced around and noticed how some of the women seemed to be getting turned on watching Bud do his thing. As the four-minute song came to an end, Bud received a rousing ovation. He high-fived as he left the dance floor and went through the young women who wanted to meet him.

“What are you doing, you sick puppy?” Allan said to him.

Bud replied, “I gotta take a piss. Don’t let anyone leave.” All they could do was laugh and be impressed with Bud’s talent.

Rachelle leaned over to Paul and said, “I wish Madison had seen this. If you were not here to see it, it’s kind of tough to appreciate it.”

“I know,” Paul agreed. The party continued to be strong until about 11:00 pm, but there was no doubt the peak was Bud’s dance to “Bad Romance.”

At 11:00 pm, John Blanchard, Victoria’s partner for the past three years, asked for quiet so he could make a toast to say goodbye to Victoria Davis. “Victoria, I hope we did you proud tonight. You wanted your friends and coworkers to have fun in your name, and we did. But not as much fun as if you were here with us. Thank you, Victoria, for being a part of my life and everyone’s here. We will miss you.” With that, the glasses that were raised went to the mouths of the crowd. The party was a little more low-key after the toast, and Paul could see Rachelle was visibly upset again. It was difficult for her to get over the shooting and being in the same car. It was still less than a week ago, and Paul thought she was doing amazingly well.

He grabbed her hand and said, “How about a walk on the pier before I drop you home?”

“Let’s do it,” she smiled. Paul waved goodbye to a few people as they left. One of them was Bud, who acknowledged Paul leaving with Rachelle with a thumbs-up.

Paul couldn’t believe that it appeared he was going to be alone with her as they walked the pier. No Bud, no Madison, no Joey Z. Paul grabbed her hand, and she intertwined her fingers with his to get a firm grip.

“You never told me how you ended up with such a beautiful name,” Paul said.

Rachelle laughed and told him the story of her name. “My father wanted to name me Michelle after the Beatles song, and my mother was adamant not to give me a common name, even if the song was such a big hit. Mom wanted Rachael, so the names were so different from the other that they ended up in this big fight and didn’t talk to each other for a couple days. When calmness finally arrived between the two of them, they compromised on combining the two names together, Rachelle. There you have it!”

Paul replied, “I would expect no less.” He laughed, “I’m glad they had that fight because the name is so perfect for you. It’s beautiful, different, and the essence of being feminine. It’s you!”

“You’re making me blush,” Rachelle replied, laughing in a nervous way.

“Tell me, how did Madison get her name?” Paul asked.

“Oh, now that’s easy,” she answered. “Mom wanted to name her after Madison Avenue because it was her favorite place to shop. Dad said, ‘You are right, it is,’ and that was it.”

As he smiled at the story, Paul received a text from Bud. It said, “Did you kiss her yet?”

Paul was quick with his typed reply: “No, leave me alone.”

Before he could put the phone in his pocket, he got an answer: “I’m going to come out and check your pulse in a minute.” Paul wanted to shut the phone off, but he thought better of it.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll start walking you home.” Rachelle seemed disappointed and almost suggested going to his place, but she resisted. The conversation during the seven-minute walk consisted of Rachelle’s article to come out after this case was over, but she explained that starting the next day
,
cryptic messages with a puzzle would appear in both the
Now
paper and the Long Island edition of
Newsday
.

Paul was concerned about it, but Rachelle assured him nothing would be given away. It was simply a tease to keep readers on the edge and hungry for the story that was about to be published. As they reached the doorstep to say goodbye, Rachelle faced Paul and decided to stop the tension between them.

“I would ask you to come in and stay, but as you know, I have a bodyguard now.”

“I know,” he said, “but I want to kiss you before handing you over.”

“What are you waiting for?” she replied.

As Paul started to kiss her, the door opened and Sherry said, “Did you have a good time?”

Paul looked at Sherry with a look of disappointment. Rachelle laughed as she invited Paul in.

As they went in, Mason was in a parked car four cars down on Prospect on the phone with John Winters to tell them they were in the house. Both were now using disposable prepaid phones. From his angle, he did not see Sherry answer the door. Madison’s car was gone, and now all he needed was for Paul to leave. “Come on,” he said out loud, “no sex tonight, boys and girls.”

Inside, Paul greeted Sherry and officially handed Rachelle’s safety over to her. With an awkward goodbye to Rachelle, Paul waved goodbye to Sherry and left to walk down the hill to his apartment. Mason looked at his watch; it was 12:20 am. He decided he would wait 30 minutes before going in for Rachelle. At 1:00 am, the lights went off in the house, so Mason waited another 10 minutes before he left the car to approach the home.

He walked around the home checking out the windows, the sliding door in the back, and walked back around the front to check out the lock on the front door. There was also a door facing High Street on the side of the house. It was so quiet you could hear a car that drove by at the bottom of the hill on Main Street. Mason went back to the side of the house facing High Street and found a window half-open next to the door to let the air in through the screen, but he felt it would make too much noise trying to get in. Mason went to the back a second time and attempted to open the sliding door. He gently pushed the door back, and it barely moved. He pulled back harder the second time, and the door opened. He was lucky; he thought he would have to go through a window.

He entered the back of the den and, to his surprise, heard Rachelle in the bathroom. He waited at the corner of the den and the kitchen, waiting for her to come out of the bathroom into the hallway. He pulled out his knife and waited. As he stood there, he noticed the blankets and sheets on the pulled-out sofa. He had a look of puzzlement on his face as he heard the bathroom door open. It was Sherry. She had waited until Rachelle went to bed before washing up for the night. It was the only time she didn’t have her gun, and she was about to pay the price.

She went past Mason, heard him, and turned around, but it was too late. He cut through her and watched her go down. He looked at her and enjoyed the started look on her face as she was about to die. As he watched her in the dim light, he realized she was black. He turned on the light and knew he had just killed the wrong person.

He headed down to the bedroom and opened the door that was closed. He approached the bed as Rachelle opened her eyes to see a figure with a knife walking toward her. As Mason thrust his arm up for power and came down, Rachelle rolled to the floor with the covers. Mason tried to pull the covers from her, but Rachelle was screaming while holding on to the throw blanket for dear life. Her screams were piercing as Mason pulled with all his might, but Rachelle was so tangled in the sheets and blanket, he began to blindly stab her. He stopped and again tried to pull off the sheets. It was his sick need to see Rachelle’s face as he stabbed her that caused the delay from killing her with alacrity. He managed to get the sheets away from her and then heard shots being fired in the house. It startled him enough to stop his rampage at Rachelle to go back to the hallway to see Sherry lying on the floor with her weapon in her hand.

Officer Sherry Walker had crawled to her pillow, got her cell phone, dialed 911, and began firing her gun in hopes it wasn’t too late to save Rachelle. “Don’t move,” she said to Mason.

He moved quickly between the rooms, closer to her, and Sherry fired, just missing him. He came closer and could hear the
click
that she was out of bullets. He ran up to her and kicked her so hard in the face the gun flew out of her hand and flew to the other side of the room. The gunfire had been so loud he felt he had run out of time as he ran for the front door. Rachelle, who was in the corner shaking and terrified, managed to get herself to the window to look and saw a figure dressed in black tight clothes with a white mask on grab Mason by his collar, throw him down, and lean into his face, pause, and then stabbed him multiple times. Rachelle fell back into the corner of her room screaming, with the throw blanket on her. Bud was still at Danford’s with four other officers, including Lynagh and Healey, talking stories, when he got the text, “Shots fired, Prospect Street.”

Bud jumped up, telling his fellow officers, and they followed behind him. He ran down the stairs and out the door, crossed East Broadway, crossed the back parking lot behind Z Pita, and raced up the hill to Prospect Street he called Paul who was already running down the stairs. Bud arrived with four other officers to find two police cruisers, which had arrived three minutes earlier.

As Bud went into the house, two officers were trying to get the blood under control with Sherry until the ambulance came. “Rachelle! Rachelle!” he yelled.

“She’s back here,” an officer yelled.

Bud ran to the room, and the young officer already there told Bud, “She won’t let anyone touch her.”

Bud went toward her, and she covered herself up more. She was shaking so hard he wanted to hold her but didn’t want to take any chances. Officers Lynagh and Healey started looking around the outside of the house for clues other than the body of Mason Winters lying on the front lawn. A second later, Paul ran into the room and moved toward her. She pushed herself back harder to the corner and squeezed the throw blanket so hard her fingers and arms were becoming cramped.

“Rachelle,” Paul said. “Rachelle, let me make sure you are OK, please.”

“Paul,” Bud said.

Ignoring Bud, Paul said again, “Rachelle.” As he moved his hand gently toward her, she spoke her first words since the attack.

“Where were you? Why did it take you so long to be here?”

“Rachelle,” Paul answered, “I was here within minutes, please.” He moved closer.

“Don’t touch me,” she said. She started to cry again, asking for her sister.

The ambulance arrived quickly for Officer Walker. With Mather Hospital only being a two-minute drive from Rachelle’s house, Sherry was in surgery within 18 minutes of the attack. Madison was driving home when she got the call from Paul to get home. She was there within 10 minutes. The second ambulance was there, but no one could get near Rachelle. Madison ran to the room and ran to Rachelle, who did not resist her.

“Shh! Shh!” Madison said gently as she held her head. “I’m here now, Shh! It’s OK, sister is here.” Within minutes, Madison had Rachelle calm enough to go in the ambulance to be medically checked out.

“Don’t leave me!” she said to her sister.

“I’m here, honey,” Madison said. “I’m here.”

“Rachelle,” Paul said.

“No,” Rachelle replied. “No.”

Paul tried to go with them to the ambulance, but Madison gave him a stop signal with her hand. Paul was confused by all of this, but Bud went up to him.

“Come on, let’s take a look around,” he said.

As they searched the house, the crime unit was marking the floors and the bullet holes, which, for the most part, were in the ceiling except for the two in the hallway. There was blood, most likely Sherry’s, smeared on the floor and carpet. As they were checking the back sliding door, Detective Lieutenant Cronin had arrived and was on the front corner lawn looking at the body of Mason Winters. With multiple stab wounds, it was evident he was taken by surprise.