by Karen Woods
“Why, Sarah?”
“Why, Sister?” She cleared her throat, angrily, and brought out a tape recorder from her shoulder bag as she held on with one hand to the small pistol that was still trained on me.
“Is your tame police chief any good in bed?” she asked. “Is that why he has bent over backwards to give you an alibi for Raoul’s death and for the brat’s kidnapping? Are you that good in bed, Sister? But, no, you can’t be. You aren’t even sleeping with your loving fiancee. That man who is about to escape the fate of being married to you is almost as bad as you are. I was really tempted to let this happen. You both deserve one another.”
“You’re too late, if you want to stop the marriage. I broke of the engagement myself today,” I told her.
“You’re a liar. No one would walk away from that kind of money,” Sarah stated. “I’ve hated you for years, more so lately because you’ve landed into a gracious life. It isn’t fair. Evil should not triumph.
“You might be interested to know that the baby whom you lost wasn’t Samson’s. He can’t father a child. But, he didn’t tell you that. No, it was convenient for him to keep that information to himself.” She pressed the play button on the tape recorder.
“God, please, just let her live,” Geoff’s voice begged. “I swear that I’ll tell her about the vasectomy and about how I bribed the doctor to do the artificial insemination switch. Just let her live. Please!”
Sarah shut off the tape.
“You have a talent for piecing together unrelated words and making new tapes out of them, don’t you? That’s how you put together the new telephone calls which I received, wasn’t it?”
Sarah laughed boldly. “Sure. I took some courses in radio and television production when I was an undergraduate. I learned all about editing tapes.”
“Why, Sarah? Why have you done this? If you are going to kill me, don’t I deserve to know the reason?”
“You know the reason.”
“No. I don’t understand why you hate me this way. Why are you doing this to me, after all I have done for you?”
“Done to me, you mean! You seduced the man I loved and his brother. You killed both of them, lied about it, made yourself look like the heroine of the hour, seduced Raoul, then killed a nun, lied some more, and made almost three million dollars on royalties from the book that you wrote and the options for the screenplay. You ruined my life. Totally. You blew up my little problems into an excuse for your actions. Then you gave away the Hernandez baby!”
My mind boggled at the construction that she had placed on the events of my life.
“All you’ve done for me?” she shrieked. “Done for me? You haven’t done shit for me, Sister. Pretending to be holy and above reproach. Prepare for a painful eternity, Sister. If you don’t believe in Hell, now, you will in a few minutes when you experience it first hand.”
“Sarah. Just wait a minute. Remember the night that you came to the shelter? You were crying and afraid of Luis. You said that he wanted to kill you, remember? We gave you sanctuary.”
“Sanctuary. Right. You called my parents and told them to come get me.”
“You needed someone who loved you to look after you. You were fourteen, Sarah, and pregnant, living on the streets, with most of our money being taken from you by your pimp.”
“They made me get an abortion. It wasn’t bad enough that you killed Luis. But, they made me lose his baby, all that I had left of him. It’s your fault. I loved him . . . and you didn’t care! You didn’t care! For all your talk about love, you didn’t love me. I can’t forgive you for that. Your ruined my life, and you did it for your own gain.”
“We did what we thought was best for you. None of us sought to profit by it.”
“Yeah, right! Like suddenly everyone is an expert on what is best for Sarah. Luis would have come around. I had just told him that I was pregnant. Of course, he was upset. So what if he knocked me around a little. It wasn’t the first time in my life that I was knocked around. You didn’t have to kill him!”
“Did you kill Joanie?”
“The brat? No, she’s still alive. Alive and sleeping off a large dose of Demerol. She’s in the bedroom. She’s been heavily sedated most of the time, except when we needed her awake. Raoul couldn’t make the casts for the head we planted in your freezer, or the manikins we used for the video we sent her adoptive parents without her. I think that he got off on that. Getting even with you was the one thing that he lived for. Too bad that he also had to die for it.”
“Do you really think that you can get away with this?”
“Sure.”
“You and Hernandez were in this together?”
“Sure.”
“And you killed him?”
“Then planted the body in your car with enough circumstantial evidence to lead to your arrest. But, then your tame cop decided that he had to speak up for you. I could kill him for that.”
“No. I’m the one whom you want. Your quarrel is with me. No one else is involved.”
“So touching: the hen protecting her brood.”
“Did you kill the deputy sheriff?” I demanded.
The she smiled at me. It was an expression that made my blood run cold. She waved the gun around. “Hell, yes. And moved the body away from the place that it had been. He was getting too close.”
“And you were behind the rattlesnake, and the poison in my tea?”
“The tea was sheer brilliance. Your fiancee owns a vacuum sealer. It was just a matter of cutting off the seal, adding the oil, then resealing it. Simple. You never even suspected. Too bad that it didn’t kill you. Then I could have gotten away clear.”
“You still could have gotten away, Sarah. If you hadn’t come after me, you could have gotten away.”
“No. I tipped my hand. That photograph. It tied me to the area. Sooner or later, someone would have found the brat. When I wasn’t there, someone would have decided that I must have killed Raoul. It’s that simple. When the police wouldn’t do the work for me, I had to finish the job myself. Prepare to die, Sister.”
“Sarah, please.”
“Go ahead, beg for your life,” Sarah said with relish in her voice. “I’d like to hear you beg.”
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” I told her.
“Then sit down and write, Sister. The better you make it, the longer you will live.”
“What am I supposed to write?” I demanded.
“A full confession couched as a suicide note,” Sarah told me with an ungodly amount of glee in her voice. “Now, sit down. I would rather play this out as a suicide, than to put a bullet in your brain. But, I will shoot you, if you don’t cooperate.”
Chapter 43
PHIL
I had seen Alicia drive past in the company of that elderly woman. As soon as they passed, the radio crackled with the report that Alicia had been kidnapped at gun-point and had driven off in a car matching that description.
It was all I could do not to jump on my motorcycle and follow them. I called in the report of sighting and flagged down an off-duty deputy, sending him to follow the car. When it became apparent that the car was going some distance into the country, I telephoned Sam Ulrich, who lives at that edge of town and flies an ultralight plane. It was his day off, so I figured he’d be up in the plane. And I knew that he would have his cell phone with him.
I was right on both counts. And he wasn’t far from the road that the car was heading down. So, he was able to locate her quickly. He put the ultralight down on a grass waterway in the middle of a cornfield about a quarter mile down the road from the house where Alicia was being held.
Doug Webb, three deputies, and I met Sam and another deputy on patrol at the waterway. We then drove down near the house and made our way to the house using the cover of the trees and outbuilding. An ambulance accompanied us quietly.
Peering through the windows, we determined that the Houston girl was in the back bedroom unconscious. The child ha
d an IV drip of some sort attached. She appeared to be naked under the sheet. The raised voice of a female told us that someone was in the adjacent room.
“Write, damn you!” the voice said. “I swear, Sister, that if you don’t write exactly what I tell you I will shoot you, then I will shoot the brat. Do what I say, and I will let her live!”
A quick peep through the kitchen window told me all I needed to know. A woman had a Colt Government .45 caliber pistol trained on Al. Al was seated at the table writing from the armed woman’s dictation. The woman’s gray wig had come off and lay upon the counter. It was clear that the woman was Sarah Quinn.
Al briefly looked up and met my eyes at the window, and then she returned her attention to the paper before her. She put down the pen and rubbed her hand.
“Hand hurting?” Sarah demanded, at a level audible outside.
I couldn’t hear her answer.
“Keep writing!” Sarah demanded. “Write, or I kill the brat!”
Al picked up the pen and resumed writing from dictation.
Figuring that we had a little time, we withdrew behind the garage in order to form the attack plan. Two minutes later, everyone knowing where he was to position for action, we took our places at the house.
Sarah had placed a large bottle of pills on the table before Al with a 2-liter bottle of spring water. “Take them, one at a time with a big swig of water after each,” she commanded.
I looked at my watch. One minute till we were to crash in on her. I popped my head up at the window. I motioned to Al to hit the floor. She took a swig on the bottle of water. I only hoped that the drug wasn’t a lethal dose in one pill.
“No one will believe this,” Al said.
Sarah laughed. “It will be just enough doubt to tar your memory. I’ll be happy with that.”
We crashed into the house from different directions just as Al hurled the water bottle at Sarah, hitting her on the bridge of the nose with the almost full 2-liter bottle, knocking her glasses off her face, and sending her reeling backwards. Blood spurted from Sarah’s nose. Al hit the floor and took cover.
“Drop the weapon!” all of the police officers demanded in virtual chorus.
It was obvious that Sarah couldn’t see any distance at all without her glasses. Sam Ulrich walked up behind Sarah. He reached around and removed the pistol from her hand.
Sarah Quinn began to cry and collapsed into a heap on the floor. “It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair. It just isn’t fair . . .” she babbled as she searched for her now broken eyeglasses.
“Al?” I asked as I went to her. “Are you injured?”
Al rose from the floor and brushed herself off. “I’m fine.”
“We’ll get you into the hospital and have your stomach pumped,” I told her.
“Unnecessary,” Al said. “I palmed the pill instead of swallowing it.”
Sarah raised her head and looked in Al’s direction. Sarah’s expression was one of such utter hatred that the woman’s face was truly a mask of evil. Almost before any of us could register that she had risen, Sarah was across the room and was going after Al.
Two of the deputies moved to control her. Al sidestepped left, kicked Sarah’s legs out from under her, as she grabbed hold of the shoulder of Sarah’s dress, and flung her into the kitchen wall just behind them. The ancient plaster crumbled with the impact and stirred up a cloud of dust. With a bloodcurdling scream, Sarah turned and lunged once more at Al, hands raised as if to go for Al’s throat. Al performed a double inside block, knocking Sarah’s hands apart. Then Al applied a double knife hand blow, the edge of one hand coming down smartly upon each of Sarah’s shoulders at the clavicle. I heard the distinctive snap of broken bones, just before Sarah screamed out in pain. Sarah crumpled into a heap on the floor.
“You’ll live, Sarah,” Al stated as she backed away from her tormentor.
Sarah cursed vehemently. One of the deputies got out his cuffs and cuffed her hands in front, afraid of further aggravating the obviously broken collarbones.
I watched as Al walked into the bedroom. I followed her. She stood there beside the bed looking at the child. Tears fell from Al’s eyes as she sank down to her knees and began to pray.
Chapter 44
GEOFF
I looked at Phil for the longest moment without saying anything. I had arrived at the station to serve as Al’s counsel during the process of giving her statement.
“Are you in love with ‘Licia?”
“What?” Phil demanded.
“You and she appear to be getting along much better than you used to.”
“We had some time to talk. Really talk. She was scared that night that you were hurt. She didn’t want to be confined to a small bedroom. So we sat up and talked for hours. That’s some lady you have, Geoff. I would suggest that you hang onto her.”
I shook my head negatively. “She broke the engagement. She doesn’t want me. But, she might want you. If she does, I want her to be happy, Phil. Are you in love with her?”
“Chief?” Sam said as he stuck his head in the door. “We’ve gotten word on the Houston girl.”
“What kind of shape is she in?” I asked, breaking into the conversation.
“Heavily sedated, still. But, it doesn’t look like she’s been beaten or abused,” Sam replied.
“Thank God,” Phil said.
I could echo those sentiments.
“Thanks, Sam. How’s the process going?” I asked.
“Ms. Quinn is under guard at the hospital being treated for her injuries. When she is done there, she’ll be brought back to one of the women’s cells at the county lock-up,” Sam told me.
“Too bad they can’t just throw away the damned key,” I said.
“Now, Counselor, that’s fine talk for an officer of the Court,” Phil said. “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
I told him in no uncertain terms what he could do with that comment. It was physiologically impossible. Then I continued, “You and I both know that this woman will never have a judgment of guilty leveled against her. The psychologists will never declare her competent to stand trial. She’ll be locked away in some mental institution until the doctors there think that she’s better. That woman is never going to do any jail time over this. And she’s never going to see death row. Let’s be realistic.”
“For once,” the voice of the county’s State’s Attorney, Charlotte Ross, said from the door. “You may be right, Counselor. But, I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure that doesn’t happen. This looks like murder one, in the Hernandez matter, to me, clearly premeditated as evidenced by her diary that was in her handbag. With kidnapping, arson, and conspiracy all thrown in for good measure, it should be very interesting to try. There’s even a confession about having killed the deputy, then having moved his body, that’s another count of murder, albeit second degree. I’m going to sink my teeth into this one. Defense counsel is not going to have an easy time of this. I promise you that, Counselor.”
“Just don’t try to build your reputation on this case, Charlie,” I warned tightly. “This will be your first big case since you stepped up from being the Assistant States’ Attorney.”
“Just relax. For a change, I’m on your side. Try to remember that, can you?” Charlotte Ross said.
“And you are just hovering around trying to build your case?” I asked.
Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t have to build a case, Counselor. It’s pretty well cut and dried. We are talking capital murder here. I intend to go for the maximum penalty.”
“Do you have any idea of who will be defending her?” I asked lowly.
“McCauley,” Charlotte replied with a small smile. “His Honor appointed him after Sarah Quinn demanded an attorney. Let’s just say that he isn’t especially thrilled.”
I had seen that smile before, usually before our esteemed States’ Attorney went in for the kill. With the rumors flying around about Charlie Ross and Rafe McCauley, I knew that this
trial was going to generate heat.
“Don’t you dare politicize these proceedings. I’ll have you before the Disciplinary Commission before you can blink an eye, Counselor, if I see you abusing the process for your own political gain,” I said.
“You don’t have to lecture me on ethics,” Charlie Ross stated. “I’m well aware of exactly where the lines are drawn.”
‘Licia stood at the doorway. She looked tired and drawn.
“‘Licia,” I greeted her.
“Geoff,” she said in a tone devoid of emotion.
I wondered if she had just shut down her emotions so she could get through this. “We can get your statement out of the way in a few minutes,” I advised her. “Then you can rest.”
“Can I?” she asked. “Perhaps.”
Chapter 45
ALICIA
I stood just outside the room where I had just given my statement. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. It seemed like forever, instead of just seven weeks, since I had walked into the police department seeking aid. I had been trembling that noon. The cause of my current trembling wasn’t fear. Well, not the same kind of fear, at least.
When I opened my eyes, Phil stood there. He smiled at me.
“Philip,” I greeted him.
“Understand that you have called off the wedding?” he asked.
I sighed and confessed quietly. “I just couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t marry a man I didn’t love. Geoff and I would have had a comfortable enough life together, but it would never have been a great marriage.”
“I think you have made the right decision,” Phil told me.
I sighed. “Thanks.”
He touched my face gently. “I was so scared for you,” he confessed.
“That makes two of us,” I told him, biting my lip to keep it from trembling.
He pulled me into his arms. I didn’t resist. Instead, I buried my face in his shoulder. The tears fell freely.
When I stopped sobbing long minutes later, Phil wiped my face with his handkerchief.