“I’m afraid so. Kallita got him, and it looks like she got Roger too. You shouldn’t have stopped me, Mikey. You should have let me finish her. I could have, you know.”
“What about that cop and the girl? Where’d they go?”
“Jesus, I nearly forgot about them. The girl tore off after Kallita, and he followed. I don’t know where they got to. Still out there somewhere. I heard the cop call her, but she never answered. Jesus, this might not be over. Are you OK? I’d better go see if I can find them. What happened to the flashlight?”
“Alan had it. I think he dropped it in the grass when Kallita attacked him. It’s out there somewhere.”
“You sit tight and call 911. Get some cops out here. Shit! Get everybody out here, the army, everybody. I’ll be back in a minute. Dial star pound star to open the gate.”
Mike reached for the phone as Roy rushed outside to look for Colm.
Moments later, Mike looked up to see his brother walk back in. “Boy, that was fast. Did you fi—nd them. Oh, shit!” His heart sank when he saw Kallita follow him through the door, only this time she had the girl in her grip; another needle poised to stab her in the neck.
“Take a seat with your brother Roy, and no funny business. Hands flat on the table where I can see them. And you, little sweetie, what the hell do you have to do with him. You’re a little young to be his girlfriend, and who is that lummox who tried to tackle me? Nice try, though. You should have killed me, Roy, when you had the chance. So now, I get to call the shots again. As it should be.” She dragged Emily away from the table to the counter by the stove. With Colm still roaming free, she needed to get out of the line of the doorway. She held Emily in an arm lock with the syringe pressing against her carotid artery.
“Do you have any idea what’s in this needle?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s the same stuff that was injected into me all those years ago. I didn’t know it then, but I found out. I am a survivor, Roy, my darling. You are right about that, and I will survive this.”
Emily ignored the pain in her arm and focused on finding a way to break free. The longer Kallita talked, the better. Tuning out Kallita’s incessant droning, she looked and waited for an opening, any opportunity to act, to strike, mindful of the proximity of the needle aimed squarely at her neck. The screen door was still wide open, and swarms of mosquitoes and other night bugs were filling the kitchen. Mosquitoes bit everyone, and Mike and Roy swatted at them, causing Kallita to flinch a little each time. She was about to suggest that Kallita allow Roy to shut the screen when she caught sight of movement outside. It had to be Colm. Emboldened by the thought of rescue, she squirmed to distract Kallita.
“You’re hurting me, is it really necessary for you to hold onto me?” She struggled a little more.
“Listen, bitch! I don’t know how you fit into all this, but you had better hold still. I have no reason to kill you, but I will. So shut up and keep still.” She poked Emily in the neck with the needle enough to make her bleed, injecting a small drop of the sedative. The effect was immediate. Emily’s body sagged, and feigning a more severe reaction, she allowed herself to fall, ignoring the excruciating pain in her arm as Kallita twisted it ever higher up her back. It was enough to expose Kallita’s upper body.
* * *
If his body could shake, it would. But it couldn’t. Alan couldn’t move—anything. He couldn’t even blink, yet, he was aware of everything around him. He could breathe. It was a struggle and with each laboured intake of air, sweet, cool air, heavy with the scent of fresh cut hay, the struggle increased, becoming harder and harder. He had to concentrate. There had been a short stabbing pain, a sting, a pinprick, sharp and quick and then … nothing. He fell to the ground, flat on his back staring with unblinking eyes straight up into a star-filled sky. The damp grass seeped into his clothing cooling his skin. He could hear the struggle around him, though he could not discern its meaning because of his fear. Am I dead? Is this what death is like? His heart fluttered in unsynchronized beats, palpitating at irregular intervals. He lashed out with his arms to raise himself up. But his arms refused to move. His brain sent the message but … nothing. Oh God forgive me, I’m going to die!
No, you’re not. The voice came from deep within. Something urged him on. A will to fight, but how? And what was holding him back? Why couldn’t he move? He could hear it now. The struggle was behind him, well not behind him, behind him was earth and grass and the ground, no, it was more over his head, above him so to speak. He could hear his brothers.
“Mike, are you sure you have her?”
“You’re going to kill her, Roy! You don’t want to do that.”
“Don’t tell me what I don’t want to do. She deserves to die…”
He remembered. The dog had wanted out, barking and howling as Beagles do and then a sharp whimper followed by silence. He’d found the dog by the shed, dead and then the sting in the side of his neck. And the smell of perfume, a woman. What woman, who…? His brother bent over him, said he was dead. But he wasn’t dead, and Alan couldn’t tell him he wasn’t dead because nothing worked. Even his eyes wouldn’t move. And his breath, too shallow to recognize, and his heartbeat, so faint and irregular, made him appear dead. I must be dead. This is what dead is like. If so, why am I still lying here on the ground? You’re supposed to float, right? To hover and sail around and watch everyone cry over you, right? But he couldn’t. All he could do was lie there and listen … and be dead. Death wasn’t so bad. After all he’d longed for it, a few times. And if this was what it was, well he could live with that … he wanted to chuckle but couldn’t … it wouldn’t be so bad. All the stress was gone, and with it the struggles vanished. And if this is dead, then there must be more, right?
An unexplainable calm swept over him and he thought of his past. A past marred by an overzealous cop who, for reasons unknown to Alan, had a hate on for him; a false arrest resulting in the breakup of his marriage and the alienation of his family, something that even now, ten years later, remained un-mended. He’d lost everything because of that cop, and he’d never been able to recover. Yes, death might be sweeter than life. So why not accept it? He heard his brothers one last time.
“Why did you come back here? You bitch! You killed my brother.”
An icy rush washed over Alan and everything went dark.
* * *
It was the tingling in his hands and feet that brought him back. The pins and needles burned at his fingers and toes, traveling up his calf and into his thighs. His arms ached, and his chest hurt. But he could breathe again. He felt the warmth of his blood as it flowed through his body bringing new life to his senses. The commotion around him had stopped and all was silent save for muffled sounds emanating from the house thirty feet away. He struggled to his feet, first resting on one knee and leaning against the shed to get his balance. As he glanced around, he saw it. A shimmer of light in the grass where he’d lain. He dropped to his knees, reached forward, and picked it up. Everything was working again, but it took a moment to recognize what he had in his hand.
Hiding behind Roy’s shed he watched and waited. In the distance he could hear sirens and almost immediately he saw the flash of red and blue lights. It wouldn’t be long before the place was crawling with cops. He wanted nothing to do with cops. His hate for them ran deep. He had to make a move.
Creeping to the edge of the deck, he made his way to the front of the house. No more sirens, they had stopped, but the lights were closer now and he could see the lights moving through the trees. They would soon enter the clearing in front of Roy’s house. He needed to hide and fast. The tailgate on Roy’s truck was down. The tonneau-cover still covered the top of the pickup bed. He crawled inside pressing himself against the front wall of the cargo box and prayed the darkness would hide him. Lying in the dark, the events of the past few days circled in his brain as though a tornado spun an endless cacophony of sound and action. He closed his eyes and somewhere in the storm lashing the shores of his
mind, Alan finally drifted off to sleep. His epiphany was total and his ticket to freedom secure, and in that moment Alan Prewitt’s incarnation crystallized.
* * *
Colm couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, something wasn’t right. Driving the thought from his mind, he reached the base of the porch. Kallita was speaking. He made his way to the front of the house and circled back on the deck. Sneaking up the side, he let himself in the screened section of the deck and positioned himself to view the open doorway. He froze at the sight of Emily in Kallita’s grip. For the briefest of moments, Emily looked at him. Did she see me? I hope so. Emily struggled, and he realized. She did see me! Raising his pistol, he aimed it at his sweetheart’s chest. Find a way, my love, find a way. He willed her to move, and when she bent forward revealing Kallita’s upper body, he squeezed the trigger, firing two rounds.
Time stopped. The report from the pistol filled his senses with deafening silence, and the world around him progressed at a snail’s pace. It was the first time in his career that he had ever fired his weapon in earnest. He watched as the first bullet hit Kallita in the left arm below the shoulder. The impact of the forty calibre round tore through her flesh, breaking her arm. The second round caught her in the shoulder as she twisted and bent forward, smashing through her clavicle, rendering her left side useless and causing her to release her hold on Emily. She fell to the floor, her upper torso a mass of blood and torn flesh. Colm sprang through the doorway and subdued Kallita. Despite her wounds, he handcuffed her and patting her down for weapons, he unclipped her fanny-pack and tossed it away through the open patio door. Satisfied, she was clean, he dragged her to her feet and shoved her into a kitchen chair, pushing her down into the seat.
“Are you hurt?” Colm turned his attention to Emily.
“I’ll live.” She rubbed at her shoulder and her left arm. Staring at Kallita, she turned to Roy. “If you have a first aid kit, now would be a good time to get it. Otherwise, she’s going to bleed to death all over your kitchen.”
“Let her. You think I care if she lives or dies? Jesus, twenty-five years and look at the carnage she’s caused.” He leaned across the table, putting his face close to Kallita’s. “Die, bitch! Do us all a favour and die right now.”
Colm pulled him away. “Go get your first aid kit. She’s no threat to anyone now, and I don’t want her dying while she’s in my custody. Please, Roy, just help me here.”
Roy looked at Emily and nodded toward the hallway off the kitchen, “You’ll find a trauma bag under the sink in the bathroom. I keep one for when I go hunting. Everything you need will be in there. Get it — don’t get it — I don’t care. Just don’t ask me to lift a finger to help.”
Emily disappeared down the hallway to retrieve the bag. Sirens wailed in the distance. Calling back over her shoulder, she asked, “Did you call 911?”
“Mike did before we came inside. Christ, it took ’em long enough.” Roy looked at his brother.
“I never actually got through. The phone’s been on this whole time. They must have figured out we need help.” Mike looked at Colm with a sheepish grin. “The whole time she was terrorizing us, she was confessing to the 911 operator. My guess is they have it all on tape.” He picked up the phone to reveal the display still lit up. He pushed the end button to hang up. “I guess it’s mission accomplished, eh, bitch?”
“The gate is locked. Can you let them in? I’ll go to the front and meet them. The paramedics will need to get in here quickly.” Colm looked at Roy, not trusting him to behave. “Maybe you’d like to come with me.”
The pair left the kitchen and moved through the long corridor to the front entrance. Waiting for the emergency vehicles to arrive, Colm had a chance to speak to Roy alone.
“I’m sorry about your brother. It’s a bloody shame. Kallita has a lot to answer for, but you and Mike need to control your anger, sure. If you don’t, well, it would be too bad if after all this, if you wound up in the slam, yeah?”
Roy nodded his agreement. “You don’t need to worry about us. I never had it in me until tonight, and Mike wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Blue and red lights flashed through the trees as the emergency vehicles wound their way down Roy’s driveway. An ambulance, led by two OPP cruisers, pulled up in front. Jen Stroud stepped out of the first police car, followed by Constable Stan Worthington and two more constables emerged from the second car. Colm met Jen at her car.
“I’ve got one female in custody with gunshot wounds to her shoulder, and we have one 302 in the back yard by the shed. Stan, can you see to the 302 in the back?” Stan nodded and turned to the two backup constables.
“You two. With me, let’s go.”
Colm directed his attention to the paramedics. “In the kitchen, Roy will show you the way. She’s lost a lot of blood, but whatever you do, don’t let her out of those cuffs. You’ll also need to deal with the 302 in the back by the shed. Give Gentry a call and get him out here.”
“Jen, you’re not going to believe this. Kallita Prewitt is behind all this.” Colm brought Jen up to date with the events of the evening and led her inside to the kitchen. A medic was examining Emily’s arm while the other tended to Kallita.
“Emily, are you alright?” Colm knelt beside her chair.
“She’ll be fine—” the medic finished wrapping Emily’s wrist — “I think it’a sprain. Still, get it X-Rayed as soon as you can. You’re OK. Now, where is that 302?”
“Not out here.” Stan Worthington came walking through the patio doors. “If there’s a body out there, it’s invisible. Not by the shed anyway, we searched all around. There is a dead dog, though. That can’t be what you meant, can it?”
Colm couldn’t believe what Stan was telling him. “Bullshit! I almost tripped over him. It’s Alan Prewitt.” He glared at Kallita who sat stone-faced staring at the wall. She hadn’t uttered a sound since being shot.
“What did you do with him?”
Kallita turned her head to face Colm. “Fuck you! I want a lawyer.”
“Stan, I want this whole property secured. Nobody in or out until that body is found. He’s here somewhere.”
“You heard him, get this place locked down. What about her, and these two?” Stan waved his hand at the table.
“She needs a surgeon,” said the Paramedic. “And Mike should see a doctor. He’s still pretty groggy from whatever she pumped into him.” Gathering up his equipment, the paramedic cleared the table.
“Fine, you transport her. Stan, you ride with them please. Leave the other two here to secure things. Call Gentry back. Looks like we won’t need him, at least not yet. I want a twenty-four-hour guard on her, and chain her to the bed. I don’t want her slipping away. She’s got a lot to answer for. Let’s get this wrapped up. Roy, you need to come down to the station and make a statement. Do you have anywhere you can stay tonight?”
“I’ll stay at my daughter’s. If that’s OK.”
“Grand! Meet me around one at the detachment. Sure, just don’t leave town without letting us know, yeah.”
Gathering outside, Colm watched as the ambulance drove off into the trees. Roy followed in his pickup truck. Turning to Jen, he asked, “How about a lift to the road. Mike you can ride with Constable Stroud here. She’ll take you to the hospital to be checked out.”
“What about Alan? What has happened to him?”
“Don’t you worry about Alan. He’s there somewhere. It will be light soon. We’ll find him.” Colm’s words were unconvincing. The little voice in his mind nagged at him. Something didn’t fit. “I’ll be right back.”
Retreating into the house, he left instructions for the constables. “Keep your eyes open. That body was right beside the shed. I doubt it got up and walked away. Be careful. Those woods are full of wildlife. I hate to think a wolf might have dragged him off. I’ll have the lab guys out here shortly. In the meantime, touch nothing. Got that?”
Chapter 30
Colm liste
ned to the recording of the 911 call. All the physical evidence was scattered on his desk. Something’s missing. He scratched at his chin. Five syringes: one from the attack on Gord, four more from the Prewitt farm; two forty calibre brass cartridge casings; the barbecue brush from Gord’s house; Kallita’s bloody T-shirt retrieved from the hospital and Kallita’s DNA all over everything. Eyewitness reports. Roy’s statement and Mike’s. The Crown should have no trouble convicting Kallita of Dan’s and Frieda’s murder. The video from the detachment security system showed a figure running through the lot wearing a black T-shirt. The same black shirt that now sat in a plastic bag on Colm’s desk. The pieces fit, and the 911 tape was the icing on the cake. It was all there. Still, something was missing. His eyes landed on Kallita’s handbag. The fanny pack. Where the hell is the fanny pack? He called the constable at the house.
“Sorry, Colm, there’s no fanny pack out here. We’ve been all over this place. We sent everything we found. If there was a fanny pack, then you should have it.”
“Just keep looking, it’s there somewhere. I didn’t dream it.”
They’d solved the problem of Kallita’s whereabouts. Colm was satisfied that Alan had nothing to do with Kallita’s disappearance. Kallita had put paid to that theory despite Mark’s earlier account. She identified the perpetrator, and after all these years, an arrest was imminent. Still, he had more questions than answers. Colm rubbed his temples. Too many mysteries, no fanny pack, Alan’s body missing, what the hell is going on? He had to shake it out of his mind and turn to the pending operation. He gathered up his paperwork and keyed his microphone.
“You ready to go?”
“All set, I have two details parked here as we speak. We’re ready to move in on your order.”
“Fantastic. I’ll be there in five minutes with the warrants.
* * *
Colm pulled his Mini Cooper into the driveway. Two cruisers pulled up behind. Jen Stroud and three officers climbed out. Jen directed two of the constables around to the back of the house, and she and the fourth constable accompanied Colm up to the front door. Mark Taylor awoke to the incessant banging of someone at the front door.
Kill Her Twice Page 20