by Dobi Cross
The man trudged out of the building. The revolving door spun continuously; it was closing time, and most employees were headed home. But no one paid him any notice; he found it easy to blend in with his nondescript appearance.
Once he was out on the streets, he strode quickly to the bus stop. The campus shuttle that ran through downtown Lexinbridge had just arrived. There was a small queue waiting to file in. The man joined the queue and moved forward with it till he was at the head of the line. He stepped into the bus, tapped his bus card at the onboard fare box situated next to the driver, and walked down the aisle till he found an empty seat at the back and sat down. Five minutes later, the bus left the stop and continued its circuitous trip towards downtown.
After a little while, the man spied the corner of twenty-fourth and St. Paul street. Just where he needed to stop. He had made several trips on this route over the years and had noticed a public pay phone with graffiti all over it tucked into a corner across the street. A quick check had confirmed that the payphone still worked, and there was no CCTV in that area.
The man pushed the touch strip on the side of the bus, and the bus pulled into the next stop. He stepped off and crossed the street to the other side. It was hard to navigate the sidewalk; teeming groups of tourists holding maps and chattering with each other mingled with office workers intent on hurrying home for dinner. The man sidestepped a stroller that almost rammed into him and moved closer to the storefronts displaying discount offers emblazoned in large neon letters.
He soon reached the payphone. There was no one using it so he stepped up to it, lifted the receiver from the hook, and punched in a number from memory.
“Danny, it’s me,” he said. “Why did you call me? I thought we had agreed that you wouldn’t call me on my cell.”
“I’m sorry. I needed to talk to you immediately.”
“So what’s so urgent?”
“The police were here to see me. They asked if I had ever seen a pin like the veteran one we bought a while ago, and I said that I had one.” The man heard the sound of water being poured into a glass and swallowed. “They asked me where the pin was.”
“So what did you say?”
“I told them I had misplaced it. If I had told them I still had the pin, they would have figured out that I had exchanged it with you. They asked where I’d been on Thursday, Friday, and Monday night and I said I had been here on duty, and that they could check with the security office to confirm. And then they left. So what the hell did you do with my pin?”
The man rubbed his jaw. “I misplaced it. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”
“I know I promised to help you, but I don’t want this coming back on me,” Danny hissed. “I called our friend at the station to find out what was going on. He checked with one of the detectives and found out a certain Marcus Tate, an investigator for one of the law firms, met with the detectives and gave them a pin. A pin that was traced back to me. He figured we were in some way related to what happened and he’s asked me not to call him again.
“You need to take care of this. And make sure to leave me out of it. Hold on.”
There was a muffled sound in the background. Then Danny came back on. “I have to go. Duty calls.” The call ended.
The man put the phone receiver back on the hook, leaned against the pay phone frame, and stared off into the distance.
He knew who Marcus Tate was. He’d followed Zora Smyth for a little while and had seen her talking to a man she called Marcus. It’d been easy to follow the man without being detected, and he had seen him enter one of the tall luxurious buildings in downtown Lexinbridge. He had followed him into the lobby where Marcus had pressed the button for the fifth floor. A quick check on the information on the lobby wall had confirmed what he already guessed—Marcus had headed into Smyth Law Associates, a firm that Zora’s mother owned. He knew that because he had done a background check on Zora once she got entangled with the case.
A cough erupted from his mouth, and he quickly pulled out a handkerchief to cover it. He held it in place till the spasms stopped. He didn’t bother checking; he was sure there was blood on the handkerchief. A look in the mirror in the morning had also confirmed what he suspected; his clothes hung more loosely on him. The disease was moving faster than he expected. But he couldn’t stop now.
The man opened his wallet and pulled out the picture of the girl. The edges were worn, and the picture was creased in the middle. He missed her terribly. It was like an ache that held him tightly and refused to let go.
The muscle in his jaw twitched. He needed complete revenge—for her. And he couldn’t afford to have anyone poking into his business till he was done. He still had one person on his list to take care of—the worst of them all—before it was truly over. This monster might even be onto him already. He would have to move from his apartment to the hideout he had prepared a few months ago. He had to make it difficult for anyone to track him.
The man kissed the picture reverently and put it back into his wallet. He would have to stop Zora and Marcus. No matter how wrong it was.
He pushed down any prick to his conscience. He had known it might come to this: harming anyone that interfered. But his need to avenge the girl was greater. He had no other option.
Zora was the easier target, but an attack might take her off the suspect list, and that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. He needed the police to stay focused on her. He would concentrate on Marcus instead.
It was time to pay him a visit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Drake paced his expansive living room. His white rolled up dress shirt reflected the shards of the setting sunlight that flooded the space and gave an orange-like tinge to the furniture. This was one of the views he loved to watch from his penthouse, but he barely looked at it today. His mind was on the news he had just received.
The lawyer, Calvin Faulkner, was dead. Third victim. Formalin and Rohypnol found in his blood stream. And he had been one of the last people to see him alive.
Drake was now certain about what was going on. It had to be that old geezer, the girl’s father. He remembered the murderous look in his eyes when they’d crossed paths at the police station last year. All the three victims who had died so far had been linked to the case. And if he remembered correctly, he was the only one left that was still alive. That meant the old fogey would be gunning for him next.
He walked to the dart cabinet on the left wall and opened it. He picked four darts, moved a few feet backwards, and threw the darts in quick succession. All four hit the bull’s eye. It was a habit he had picked up in college. Throwing the darts helped him think while he waited for Tiny to get back to him.
It wasn’t his fault that the girl had died. It had been a pity really. Such a waste of beauty. She should have been pleased that he had shown a small interest in her. Instead, she had chosen to take her own life. He didn’t see how that concerned him. The others had merely tried to minimize the damage. He didn’t really care about any of them, but it was a terrible way to die.
His phone rang. He sauntered back to the coffee table and picked it up. It was Tiny. He answered it.
“Yes?”
“We didn’t find the old man in his apartment. It seems he’s already fled. He might have made us,” he heard from the voice on the other line.
“Find him!”
“Yes, sir!”
“What about the security guard?”
“We have him already at the warehouse. Would you like us to wait for you?”
“I’ll be there shortly.” Drake ended the call.
He dropped his phone into the pocket of his black pants and headed to the door. He would take his motorcycle, the Ducati Desmosedici. He didn’t get to take it out as often as he would have liked. Time to change that. It would get him to the warehouse quickly despite the traffic. Tiny would bring it back home later.
Drake’s face hardened. The security guard had no idea what was coming his way. He should
n’t have allied with the old geezer.
He would make an example of him.
Drake wiped his hands with the towel and handed it back to Tiny who tossed it into the open fire in the drum. The other items used had been destroyed as well. Drake never took chances. You never knew who might betray you.
It had been a messy affair with the security guard. The man had tried to hold back as much as possible. Drake had to admire that. But he’d been no match for Drake and had given up everything he knew at the end. He had confirmed the identity of the killer but hadn’t been aware that the old geezer was in the wind. So much for true friends.
Drake opened the driver’s door of his car and slipped into the driver’s seat. It was time to leave. Tiny would take care of the rest. The security man would end up in the river with a stone around his body. It would be a couple of months before they found him, and the trail would be cold by then.
He felt something dig into his back. He turned and fished it out. It was Tiny’s wallet. The man had a propensity to lose it. Well, Drake wouldn’t give it to him this time. Tiny had to learn to be more careful with it. He could pick it up when he got back to the house.
Drake open the glove compartment to toss it in and a picture fell out of the wallet onto the passenger seat. It was a picture of Zora Smyth. And it wasn’t the same one he had. It was as if the photo had been taken secretly. She was relaxed, and her eyes twinkled in merriment.
A sardonic smile lit up his face. Well, well, well, who would have thought? So Tiny had a crush on Miss Smyth. Now he needed to meet her face to face. It would be fun watching Tiny react in her presence. He had never shown interest in a woman before.
But he had to take care of the old geezer first. He would have to flush him out. As long as he was still in Lexinbridge, he would be found no matter how deep he had hidden himself. He was sure about that.
Drake smiled. Excitement bubbled in his veins. The hunter had now become the hunted.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun in the meantime.
It was time to meet Miss Smyth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Zora heard the distant sound of the phone ringing. She opened her eyes and blinked as her eyes adjusted. She checked the time on the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was ten p.m. She had fallen asleep early.
The phone rang again. Zora reached for it on the bedside table and looked at the screen. She didn’t recognize the number, but it seemed familiar. She tapped the green button.
“This is Zora. Who is this?”
“Hello. This is Nurse Gray calling from Lexinbridge Regional Hospital. Do you know a Mr. Marcus Tate? You were the last call on his phone and number one on his speed dial.”
Zora sat up, sleep fleeing from her eyes. “Yes, I do. Is everything okay?”
“He was just admitted into the ER. We were able to identify him from the ID found in his wallet, but we were looking for information to contact his family, so we figured we should call you.”
Zora jumped up from the bed. “I’ll be right there in ten minutes. Thanks for calling.”
“No problem.”
Zora dropped her phone on the bedside table and quickly dressed in a pink and white T-shirt, jeans, and a light jacket. She grabbed her phone, wallet, and keys, and raced out of the apartment. Zora shot a quick prayer upwards for Marcus’ safety. She needed all the help she could get.
She hailed a cab and directed the driver to head to Lexinbridge Regional Hospital. The roads were empty at that hour, so it didn’t take long for Zora to arrive. She paid the driver, jumped out of the cab, and sprinted towards the ER entrance. She darted through the automatic sliding doors and headed to the check-in station.
Lexington Regional Hospital was a Level 1 Trauma Center. It was the only one in Lexinbridge, so its ER buzzed with activity at all hours. Zora ignored the cacophony from patients, family members, and hospital staff and approached one of the nurses-on-duty at the check-in station that was centered in the front section of the ER.
“I’m looking for Mr. Marcus Tate,” Zora said to the nurse. “I got a call from the hospital saying he was admitted here.”
The nurse tapped on the keyboard in front of her and scanned the computer monitor. “What’s your relationship with Mr. Tate?” she asked.
Zora thought quickly. “I’m his fiancée,” she said.
“Can I see your ID please?”
Zora pulled her wallet from her jeans pocket and open it. She extracted her ID and handed it over to the nurse.
The nurse checked it out, typed some more into the computer, printed out a badge, and handed both the badge and the ID to Zora.
“Please wear the badge at all times. He is in E13. Just go to your left and walk through that entrance,” she said, pointing to a set of wide double doors. There is a black badge reader at the side of the door. Please tap your badge on it and the door will open.”
Zora thanked her with a smile, turned, and walked a few steps towards the east wing till she got to the entrance. She touched the badge against the card reader, and the doors swung inwards. There was a central nursing station smack in the middle of the area with rooms surrounding it on all sides. Most of the rooms seemed occupied, and the air bubbled with occasional moans from patients and chatter from the nurses and doctors. She followed the numbering of the rooms till she got to E13.
She pulled the screen aside to see Marcus lying in a hospital gown with a bandage wrapped around the head. The dressing seemed fresh but it was already spotted with streaks of blood. His left arm was in a sling, and his right arm had crisscross marks of green, purple and red bruises, with an IV line extending from the forearm. His eyes were closed, and Zora could see the continuous rise and fall of his chest.
“He’s asleep, you know.” Zora turned to see a petite nurse—with blond straight hair pulled up in a ponytail—push in a mobile cart into the room.
“How is he doing?” Zora asked.
“What’s your relationship with the patient?” the nurse asked.
“He is my fiancé,” she answered, her eyes on Marcus as she moved closer.
“Hi, babe,” Marcus said lazily, his eyes fluttering open.
Zora almost fell back in shock. She had thought Marcus was asleep. She could see the amusement in his eyes though shadows of pain lurked at the corners. Her face grew warm.
The nurse gave them both a knowing smile. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be out of your hair.” She checked his temperature, blood pressure, and respiratory rate, and noted them on a laptop on the mobile cart. She smiled at them and left, pushing the cart in front of her.
“Are you okay?” Zora asked, her eyes searching his. “When did you wake up?”
Marcus pulled himself to a sitting position on the bed. “One question at a time, little sis, or should I say babe? He winked at her.
Zora felt her face heat up. She punched him on the shoulder.
“Ouch, that hurts!” he said, doubling over.
Zora reached out to touch him. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” She saw his chest shaking, and the next thing she knew, he erupted in laughter.
Zora made as if to hit him again but ended up just rubbing his shoulder. “You are lucky you are a patient right now, otherwise …”
“Otherwise?” He looked at her with a smirk on his face.
She leaned closer to him, their faces only inches apart. “We’ll never know, will we?” she said softly.
Zora could hear his breath hitch, and saw the pulse in his neck quicken. She held his gaze for a moment and then flashed him a Mona Lisa smile before moving away. She cleared away the sheets on the lower part of the bed and sat down.
“So what happened?” she asked, her voice now all business-like.
Marcus leaned back on the pillows behind him. “I was coming back after meeting with one of the HR analysts at Collmark group,” he said.
Zora quirked her head. “HR Analyst? How did you find her?”
He smiled, though
a moment of pain crossed his face. “I have my ways.”
Zora could very well guess what had happened. Marcus must have gone on a date with her. Women seemed to always fall for Marcus. Not that she blamed them. He was tall, handsome, with the most gorgeous expressive eyes. It was like he had this magnetic beam that advertised he was single and available for grabs.
“She told me there had only been one major HR case at the company a year ago, but everything was hush hush at the time, so she didn’t have all the details. But there was a rumor circulating in the company that one of the new employees had been sexually assaulted by the owner’s son, a vice president at the company. The employee reported the case to HR, but instead got accused of defamation and was fired.”
“Did she tell you the girl’s name?”
“Anna Hammond. She remembered the name because she heard through the company grapevine that the girl had committed suicide not long after. I was shocked that the company would cover up something like that.”
Zora was silent as she twirled a strand of her hair. In her opinion, rape was one of the worst assaults you could inflict on a person; it violated every aspect of the victim. If it was true that she had been assaulted, that was more than enough reason for someone related to the girl to seek revenge.
“You look cute doing that.”
“Huh?” Zora looked up to see Marcus grinning at her. She smacked his thigh.
“Ouch!” he said as he used his right hand to rub the spot. His eyes grew serious. “If someone did that to someone dear to me, I’d make them pay,” he said.
Zora understood. Marcus was fiercely loyal, and she knew he would seek justice if someone close to him was wronged.
After a moment, he continued, “Once we went our separate ways, I took the subway for a change instead of calling for a cab. As I passed a dark alley, someone hit me on the head with what seemed like a tire iron. I was dizzy but managed to dodge a second blow and grabbed the hand with the iron instead. The man appeared to be in his late fifties from his stature—his face was covered with a mask, and he was wearing a hooded jacket—but he had the strength of a young man.