The Outsider (James Bishop 4) (42 page)

At the same time he silently edged over to the wall at his left. He kept his gun on the right-hand doorway, but watched both sides. Waiting for the first hint of movement from either doorway.

It wasn’t long in coming.

A semi-automatic and part of a man’s hand emerged from the right-hand doorway, the barrel pointing at the floor where Bishop had been. The gun roared once, twice, three times. All three rounds pounded into the concrete floor two feet from Bishop and he felt tiny shards of plaster pitter-pattering against his right cheek. Then hand and gun disappeared.

Bishop didn’t fire back. Didn’t groan again. He just waited. As patient as the dead.

After five long seconds of silence, part of a face poked out from the doorway on the right. Bishop saw a hint of blond hair, aimed, squeezed off two rapid shots.

The face disappeared.

Shuffling forward at a crouch, Bishop kept his gun aimed at the dark doorway and halted when he saw a blond head and part of a shoulder on the floor near the entranceway, lying half in and half out of the shadows. The blond hair was completely soaked with blood, as though it had been washed in the stuff. There was no sign of movement at all.

But there was still Curtis to worry about. Bishop felt certain he’d scored a hit before, though. Hopefully nothing life-threatening, although the light was still on inside, which suggested the guy wasn’t in any fit state to turn it off. Bishop wasn’t about to take unnecessary chances, though. That was how fools died.

He got to his feet and stood with his back to the wall, next to the lighted doorway. The radio had stopped too. Possibly the iPad had been damaged during the shooting. Either that or Curtis had turned it off himself. Whatever the cause, the building was now completely silent.

‘We don’t have to do this,’ Bishop called out. ‘I’ve got no beef with you. I just want the woman and the location Callaway picked for the exchange later. Roy’s dead, but you don’t have to be. In fact, you give me what I want and I’ll let you go. What do you say?’

No answer. No sounds from within the room. Nothing.

Fearing the worst, Bishop pulled the multi-tool from his pocket and extracted the small knife and raised the blade until it was level with his eyeline. It was old and dirty, but it held a reflection. Holding the knife in his right hand, Bishop moved the blade towards the doorway, angling it slightly until he could see the part of the room he wanted. He found the light first, then angled the blade downwards until he saw an unmoving humanoid shape on the floor. He held the blade steady for a few more seconds, but the shape still didn’t move.

Pulling his hand back, Bishop pocketed the knife and lowered himself to a crouch position. Then he swung his body round the doorjamb, gun first.

But Curtis wasn’t in any fit state to fire back at him. Nor was he about to provide him with the information he’d come for. He was lying on his back and staring blankly up at the ceiling. Bishop stood up and walked towards the body. As he got closer he saw a small pool of blood on the floor near his head, then he saw the gunshot wound above his left ear.

‘Shit,’ he said.

He must have got the guy with the first shot, resulting in instant brain death. Kneeling down, he checked for a pulse, but it was pointless. Curtis was now just another statistic. All this time and effort, and for nothing. Bishop picked up the lantern and took it with him to the room opposite. Roy was still where he’d left him, and still just as dead. His head was now a gory mess.

Then he heard a faint sound from behind the other closed door on Roy’s side of the hallways. In his disappointment, he’d almost forgotten about Karen Lomax.

So it hadn’t
all
been for nothing.

Carrying the lantern, Bishop walked to the end of the hallway and opened the last door on the left and stepped inside. He moved the light around until he could make out a dirty mattress in one corner of the room. On it, Karen Lomax, wearing a short-sleeved sweater and jeans, lay in a foetal position with one arm wrapped over her head. The other arm was outstretched and cuffed to an old water pipe that protruded from the wall. Bishop saw the room’s sole window was boarded up on the outside, which meant she had to have been living in perpetual darkness all this time.

Bishop raised the lantern for a better look at her and saw numerous bruises and cuts all over her arms. Her long hair was matted and wild.

‘Mrs Lomax?’ he said softly and the woman suddenly jumped at the sound of his voice. ‘You’re safe now. They can’t hurt you anymore.’

Slowly the woman removed her arm from her head, and looked up at Bishop. He noticed the left eye was all puffed up and surrounded by dark bruising. The right side of her mouth was also heavily swollen and covered in dried blood. The poor woman looked as though she was sucking on a golf ball.

‘Y-you mean … you mean they’re dead?’ The words came out muffled, as though she were talking from behind a towel.

‘Both of them. You’re okay now, Mrs Lomax.’ He knelt down in front of her and cleared his throat. ‘Uh, did they …?’

‘No,’ she said, looking over towards the doorway. She shivered involuntarily and gave a humourless chuckle. ‘No, I was spared that, at least. But that blond one, he … he liked using his fists on me. That’s what turned him on most, I think. I’ve lost two teeth at least. Is he … is he really dead?’

‘He really is.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’m glad.’

‘I’d be surprised if you weren’t. Let me go find the keys to those cuffs, okay? I won’t be a second.’

Leaving the lantern with her, he picked up the light in the hallway and took it back to Roy’s body. He searched the corpse’s pants pockets and then his jacket pockets, but he didn’t find any keys on the guy. Then he went over to Curtis’s body and quickly found a large set of keys in his pants pocket, and a cell phone in his jacket. He went through the keys and when he saw one that looked small enough for the cuffs, he returned to Mrs Lomax in the other room.

‘Who … who are you?’ she asked, as he used the key on her wrist.

‘A friend.’ The key turned and the cuff clicked open.

‘Thank you,’ she said, pulling her wrist free. She began rubbing it with her other hand. ‘But I’ve never seen you before. How do you know my name? How did you even find me here?’

‘It’s a long story, Mrs Lomax, and it doesn’t really matter right now.’ He figured about fifteen minutes had passed since he’d left Strickland in the car, and he desperately wanted to get back on the road again, but he couldn’t leave the poor woman just yet. He still had to call 911, plus he had a few questions of his own to ask.

But then Mrs Lomax suddenly slumped forwards and began sobbing quietly. Bishop wanted to comfort her somehow, but wasn’t sure what her reaction would be from being touched, so he did nothing. ‘It’s all right,’ he said.

‘No, it’s not all right,’ she said. ‘They killed my dog, the
bastards
. That blond one there kept laughing about it when he was beating me, and said he must have already died of hunger by now, alone in the darkness.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Oh, my poor baby.’

‘He was lying,’ Bishop said. ‘It’s only been two days and Biff’s perfectly fine, although he misses you.’

Mrs Lomax’s head jerked up and she gaped at him. ‘You saw Biff? He’s all right?
Really
?’

‘Really. I let him out of that basement and fed him before coming out here. I also left him enough food and water to last a couple more days, just in case.’

‘Oh, thank God.’ She said and gave a long sigh. Then she frowned at him. ‘Wait a minute, you said I’ve only been here
two
days?’

‘That’s right.’

Her shoulders slumped again. ‘And I thought I’d been stuck in this room for a week. Only two days. Jesus.’

‘Look, Mrs Lomax, I’m calling 911 and then I’ll have to leave you before the ambulance and the cops get here. Will you be okay on your own?’

She looked up at him and nodded. ‘Now I know my baby’s all right, I’ll be fine.’

Bishop studied her face. Despite the haggard features and the bruising and the dried blood, it was still a very beautiful face, and he now saw steel behind the woman’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. He believed her. Nodding, he picked up Curtis’s cell phone and dialled 911. When a male dispatcher asked him which service, Bishop quickly gave him the South Sherbourne Street address and said there was an injured woman in need of medical attention on the second floor of the old theatre, as well as the bodies of the two men responsible. He hung up when the dispatcher tried to press him for details, then wiped his prints off the phone and placed it on the floor.

‘Before I go,’ he said, ‘are you up to answering a question or two?’

‘Questions? About what?’

‘Well, those two were obviously keeping you here for a reason other than just beating up on you. What was the reason?’

Mrs Lomax wiped her good eye and said, ‘I don’t know. They didn’t tell me much. When we first got here I had to call Frank – that’s my husband, he’s a US marshal – and convince him to do certain things at this safe house he was staying at, or they’d kill me.’

‘I know about Frank. Was it hard to convince him?’

‘No, not once he realized they were serious. But … you know about Frank? How?’

‘It doesn’t matter. What kinds of things did he have to do?’

‘Well, he had to hide some car keys under a mat, I remember that. Then he had to remove the firing pins of certain guns in the house. Oh, and he had to loosen an axle nut on one of the vehicles. The black man told me later that there was some kind of shootout and that Frank was wounded and in hospital, and that the police were all waiting for him to regain consciousness and tell them what happened. Once he woke up, I was to call him and tell him what to do next, but I don’t know what I was supposed to say.’

Bishop had a pretty good idea of what she was supposed to say, but he’d heard enough. He had more pressing matters at hand, like vacating the area before the cops arrived.

He got to his feet and said, ‘Okay, thanks. I better go now.’

‘But what shall I tell the police when they ask about you?’

‘Tell them everything that happened. Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.’

‘Yes, I can see that. Well … thank you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.’

‘You already have,’ he said, and left her.

Bishop was just emerging from the passageway at the side of the building when he heard the sirens in the distance. He couldn’t tell from which direction, and there were no tell-tale flashing lights either. But they were getting closer. It seemed they didn’t waste any time responding to 911 calls around these parts.

He sprinted down to the end of the block, passing the two remaining buildings, and turned right at the intersection where the Nissan was still where he’d left it.

Strickland must have spotted him in the rear-view. He opened the driver’s door, got out and smiled when he saw Bishop approaching. ‘Man, I was getting worried for a moment there. Are those sirens for you?’

‘Yeah. Get in the other side. I’ll drive.’

Strickland jogged round to the passenger side and shut the door. Bishop got in the driver’s seat and checked the dashboard clock. It was still only 00.52, which matched his own estimate. He started the engine, but didn’t switch on the lights yet. He just sat there watching the front, while checking the rear-view every other second.

‘So what are we waiting for?’ Strickland said. ‘Let’s get going.’

‘You saw how empty the streets were coming in,’ Bishop said. ‘A cop seeing us drive away from the scene might wonder what we’re doing out so late and decide to check us out. No sense inviting trouble. Let’s just wait.’

Bishop counted the seconds as the approaching sirens steadily became louder. Forty-three had already passed when he saw flashing blue and red lights suddenly appear up ahead, about a hundred feet from their position.

‘Get down,’ Bishop said, sliding down in his own seat until his head was just below the window frame. Strickland quickly did the same.

It took another nine seconds for the vehicle to speed past them, siren blaring and lights flashing. Bishop heard a screeching of brakes as it reached the intersection behind them, and he raised himself up and looked out the rear window. The driver made a sharp left turn and a second later the car was gone, though he could still see the red and blue lights reflecting against the buildings on the other side of the street.

Sitting up again, Bishop turned on the Nissan’s headlights and pulled out onto the street. He kept the speed at a steady thirty and headed up McNeely until he reached the next intersection where he turned right. The sirens seemed to be getting fainter, which was a good sign. And while they saw a few more vehicles in the main part of town, none of them were police cars, which was even better.

Finally Bishop got them back on Route 46 and kept them on a south-westerly heading. Once they got close to Bloomington, he’d get onto State Road 37 and head north until they could join the eastbound 252. Then they could really start laying down the miles. As long as there were no more distractions.

‘So you planning on telling me how it went back there,’ Strickland said, ‘or am I supposed to guess?’

Bishop sighed. ‘It went badly. They’re both dead, so we’re no better off than we were before. Karen Lomax is still breathing, though, so it wasn’t a total loss.’

‘Shit, I knew it all sounded too good to be true.’ He shook his head. ‘So she’s okay, at least?’

‘Well, the blond one got his rocks off by repeatedly beating the crap out of her, but she’ll heal. She’s a born survivor. I even managed to ask her a few questions before I left, and she was able to confirm a few things for me.’

‘Yeah? Like what?’

‘Like how I was right about her husband. They forced her to call him the morning of the assault and got him to loosen one of the nuts on the SUV’s axle, and he also removed firing pins from some of the guns, probably the reserve automatic weapons. And a few other things besides.’