by Danae Ayusso
He smirked.
“You purposely chose a site next to where you prepped the bodies, and then you rigged it to blow and take all evidence with it. The only problem, no one went the quarter of a mile down the road to the Mayor’s estate. That put a little kink in your plan. Especially since you got sloppy and couldn’t control yourself like an inept child,” she said and looked to his belt buckle then back up to him. “Then once he was down and wearing a badge again, it didn’t go according to plan. Instead of leaning on your shoulder, trying to find comfort and strength in you, he found it in the arms of a complete stranger and you couldn’t handle that. But you didn’t know that Fury wasn’t hiding every night, lost deep in thought and guilt over Vicks death. So, you dragged it out, to keep Fury around as he chased his tail in essence. And, once again, you got sloppy. You didn’t count on Deputy Shadowdancer doing what Fury taught her to do when she was a rookie: follow her gut. She discovered the stones found at the fifth dumpsite were from a poorly made belt buckle sold in town at the local gift shop.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You want to know how I know that?” she purred. “Because Salvati was having the same problem with the buckles he bought for his nephews.”
The smile fell from James’ face.
Let’s see if any of my theories are right.
“You also didn’t realize that Deputy Shadowdancer and Mickey were seeing each other in a romantic sense. He even asked the Chief for permission to date his daughter, which the Chief surprisingly gave. And when you sent him out on that Che cazzata call, leaving Raven alone, you didn’t count on Probie pulling the dispatch records or tracing the call since he’s a genius at digital forensics that any government agency would love to have. He traced it back to a burner phone, which was purchased with cash at a gas station just outside of Eureka. True, there’s no paper trail to link you to it, but there’s an ATM by the exit that continually records and stores ninety-days’ worth of video. Guess whose face is clearly visible under that stupid cowboy hat?” she teasingly sang the latter.
“You don’t know anything,” James said with a completely fabricated smile. “Just because you read a few cop stories and crime thrillers doesn’t mean you know anything.”
Cat smiled, looking evil when she did it. “And that, was your biggest mistake,” she informed him.
Instantly the smile fell from his face.
Looks like Pope is back.
“Who in the hell are you?” he demanded, getting to his feet and leveled the gun at her.
“The woman who took Fury’s virginity,” she said with a smirk. “The woman who spent the past two days making love to him at the Ranger station on a romantic holiday he planned for just the two of us.”
James’ nostrils flared.
“The woman he loves, and that he’d willingly sacrifice his reputation, life, and freedom for. Now tell me something, Pope, would he do any of the above for you?”
“Shut up,” he hissed.
“Admit it, Jimmy Lake. You made many mistakes this time. You should have left Dei Sponsa’s body count at four. And you really should have left Fury up on that mountain.”
“I. Don’t. Make. Mistakes.”
“Are you sure about that?” she purred. “If Fury’s dead, who do you think they’re going to pin my untimely death on?”
He looked at the gun in his hand then back to her. “Considering this is Fury’s gun, I have a sneaking suspicious they’ll pin it on him,” he said and pulled the trigger.
The bullet slammed into Cat’s chest with such force that it knocked her and the chair back to the floor and her breathing stopped.
****
“Are you sure?” Colt demanded, weaving in and out of traffic, the lights on the cruiser flashing and the siren screaming.
Never in a million years did he suspect, or would he have thought, it was James. But now so much was making sense. Why James was rubbing up on every dark haired woman at the Spring Celebration; he was checking their arms for the injury from the bar shooting Colt’s woman obviously had. Since none of the women had it, did he somehow discover Cat’s injury? They were supposed to have dinner with Emma last night, was she okay? Perhaps Cat was on her way to see him at the station. What would she think or say when she discovered the handcuffed FBI Agent instead of Colt? Why wasn’t she answering her phone?
The answer to each of those he knew, but he couldn’t fathom saying it aloud.
Looking back on it, all of the signs were there. James was constantly getting in the middle of Colt and Vicks’ relationship. When Vicks died, James was completely closed off and didn’t say anything for nearly three full weeks. Colt thought it was simply shock, but now he’s starting to think that James was silently gloating and reveling in his first kill. But was Vicks his first kill or was Cat right, as she apparently had been about everything else, and Vicks wasn’t James’ first. Was his parents and grandfather victims of James’ psychotic wrath as well?
Mickey ejected the clip from his sidearm, making sure it was loaded. “The only person to purchase that belt buckle other than the one Agent Salvati purchased the other day was Sheriff Lake two months ago,” he said. “I traced the call that dispatched me to the bogus call the night Raven was taken; it was made from an untraceable burner phone.”
“But?” Colt pressed.
“I’m good at what I’m not supposed to be doing,” he said. “I was able to triangulate the signal because the idiot left the phone on, and I found it in his desk drawer. Raven started looking at maps and triangulating—I taught her to do that since she taught me basic Siksika—and all of the dumpsites were within six miles of the Sheriff’s Department. Straight lines...lines that a local would use because they know how to utilize trails and the surrounding woods, but if you were to take them by road, the mileage was all over the place. You taught Raven when she was a rookie that there is no such thing as a coincidence. And Rossi taught me recently that when evidence presents itself in such a methodical manner, which six miles exactly from the place the Perp calls home, in essence, is a predatory genius that shouldn’t be underestimated.”
Colt nodded. “She’s impressive...I hope we’re not too late.”
Mickey sighed. “Rave was a fighter, but she wasn’t constantly armed like Rossi is.”
That, actually made Colt feel slightly better.
“I pray she didn’t let her guard down,” Colt grumbled under his breath.
James whistled happily as he pulled the canvas tool kit from his jacket pocket and unrolled it on the kitchen counter. He pulled some latex gloves on before sliding the scalpel from its designated sheath and set it down on the countertop then repeated with the next tool of his sadistic trade, putting them in order of use.
“You will be my masterpiece,” James said happily. “The perfect ending to a masterfully played game,” he added with a chuckle. He turned on his heels with a scalpel in hand then waltzed across the room to the woman and knocked over chair.
James squatted down next to Cat; her eyes were open, mouth slightly ajar, the hole in her chest centered over her heart. “No need to lighten the eyes since they’re already light blue, but it’ll take me hours to get that crap on your face off. Then again, it does fit into my final masterpiece.” He pulled the scalpel down the front of her shirt, carefully cutting through the thick fabric. When he pulled it back, opening it up, his eyes widened when he saw the fitted black material, and he yelped when Cat’s forehead slammed into his face, breaking his nose and knocking him backwards.
Cat awkwardly rolled across the floor to her feet, then jumped up and slammed her and the chair back against James, smashing him back down to the ground and cracking the oak chair. She flipped herself forward, her legs pulling up over her creating more momentum, before her and the chair smashed into him again, breaking the last of the chair against James’ chest before she rolled off of him, and slipped the broken arms of the chair from the handcuffs. She normally would have reached for her gun, but she kn
ew that it wasn’t in the back of her pants; it’d come free in her assault.
“You bitch,” James growled, reaching for her, but she backed away from him, never taking her eyes off of him.
Don’t ever turn your back, Catalina, Padre would say. Don’t underestimate your adversary. Always stay two steps ahead. Keep low to the ground so you can dive or attack without giving them a bigger target.
“Who in the hell are you?” he demanded, getting to his feet; adrenaline fueled homicidal sociopaths were usually quick to their feet.
Cat smirked, backing up towards the couch. “You should know who I am,” she taunted. “After all, you don’t make mistakes, do you?”
James pulled the gun from the front of his pants and opened fired as she jumped over the couch, pulling the thick, wooden framed piece of furniture over with her as she went and used it as a shield.
Cat pulled out the KEG12 that was strapped under the coffee table and pumped it then dove to the side and pulled the trigger the moment she was clear of the couch.
To her surprise, James proved to be rather resourceful for a psychopath and crawled towards the kitchen, continuing to shoot as he went, trying to get behind her by utilizing the cramped layout of the cabin.
Cat returned fire, going in the opposite direction so they weren’t directly across from each other, which would back her into a corner. She was no novice to firefights. When on SWAT, she was voted most likely to start shooting first, and usually was. A part of her wanted to put a bullet in James’ head, right between the eyes as Emma wanted, but the sworn officer of the law, the part that she swore she’d forever be, said she needed to take him in.
“What’s wrong, Cat?” James called out as he dropped the spent magazine to the floor and pulled another from his jacket pocket. “Out of ammunition?”
I should have doubled my arsenal in order to split it between cabins.
“Not at all,” she called out, reaching under the shelf of the bookcase next to her shoulder and pulled free the Taurus G29B-17 stashed there and chambered a round. “Remember, you’re in my house,” she reminded him then pulled the trigger and shot out each of the lights, rendering the interior dark.
James cursed under his breath, his head snapping every which way, looking for a source of light but there was none. The windows were all tinted black, hence why James could never see if Colt was inside when he couldn’t find him at the cabin in the mountains. Even the refrigerator, microwave, and oven lights had been removed.
“Funny,” he finally huffed.
“None of this has been funny,” Cat countered, pulling the bullet from the center of her bulletproof vest.
That’s a broken rib or two.
James laughed, carefully navigating around the eating bar, backing himself into the corner by the door and base of the bar in order to limit his exposure. “Actually, it was rather funny when I killed my parents. For a kid nothing is more enjoyable than fire. It isn’t artistic or a challenge. You simply need some patience in order to work with what’s already there so you don’t draw unwanted attention to yourself...or catch yourself on fire. In the case of the Lakes, it was a spark from the fireplace on some newspapers that were too close to the fireplace. It truly was a shame that the entire house was a loss. What do you expect with a volunteer fire department? It was a beautiful craftsman styled home that had much promise since the real estate market was booming at the time. You can’t even imagine my surprise when my troublesome little sister came staggering out of the garage coughing and covered in soot. She was crying that daddy, her precious daddy, was inside trying to get mommy out. It took all of my self-restraint to keep from shoving her back inside the house. You know what she said to me before I killed her?”
You swore an oath to uphold the law.
You swore an oath to uphold the law.
Goddamn it, I can’t be like them. I will uphold the law, even if it’s obvious that blood isn’t thicker than water to this crazy sonuvabitch.
“That you would never be half the man she is?” Cat said before army crawled as quickly as she could across the floor towards the bedroom.
The flash that exploded from the end of his barrel when he shot towards the sound of her voice illuminated his features for just a fraction of a second, giving Cat a target and she returned fire from the opposite direction and James cried out.
“She said,” James hissed between his teeth, “that Colt would fucking kill me when he found out...that was the first time my baby sister had ever used profanity. It was rather amusing on many levels...” his words trailed off.
Cat crawled over to the other side of the cabin towards the bathroom next, now that she’d compromised her position.
Basta con questa merde!
James groaned and whimpered, but Cat knew it was all for show, she purposely aimed to the right in order to miss his head and draw his fire. “I’m dying...dying...” he gasped and choked.
Not soon enough.
The sound of his gun hitting the floor echoed throughout the cabin, but she wasn’t falling for his ruse, she couldn’t, that would be a rookie mistake to say the least.
Cat stilled her breathing and strained to hear. She knew that James was still in the corner, his breathing was level and soft. There was no strain when he inhaled, no gurgling of blood in his throat or lungs, no energy being expended in order to accomplish the simplistic, involuntary action. She knew firsthand what it felt and sounded like when trying to breathe with a hole in your lung.
Gun fired erupted from the corner, the sudden loudness caused her ears to ring as her eyes followed the flash from the end of the barrel as James dove to the side. When the magazine was spent, he quickly ejected it and replaced it with another.
“Still alive, Cat?” he called out.
Damn it. Where in the hell is Fury? He better not have gotten himself killed by Agent Gerard of all people.
“Cat, I’m feeling rather rejected here,” James tauntingly called out.
“Catalina, not Cat,” she hissed.
“Catalina?” he asked, sounding confused.
She aimed in the darkness towards the sound of his voice. “Yeah, Lieutenant Catalina Rossi of the NYPD, mother fucker,” she said and pulled the trigger.
James cried out and returned fire.
Cat scrambled backwards into the bathroom, pulling the trigger as she went, taking two more shots to the chest and one to the shoulder. She cried out in pain and kicked the bathroom door closed and scrambled to her feet.
James threw his hip into the door, trying to knock it open, and she fought against him as she struggled to get the steel bars Colt installed for her into place. “Come out and play, you filthy whore,” he snarled, slamming his hip into the door again.
Cat knew she had only one bullet left in the Taurus in her hand, and the bathroom only had two guns, neither of which would give her more than six shots each. She needed to hit him where it hurt. James, Pope, Jimmy, Sheriff Lake, they were all one person, one incredibly twisted mind that needed locked up and the key thrown away. The Mafioso minded side of her just wanted to ice him and feed Chelsea. The cop minded side wanted to bring him in and make him responsible for his crimes…that was the side she had to listen to because she couldn’t be like them, she couldn’t be like the others, like Daniele or her Padre. She had to stay on the right side of the law or else all of it, everything she’s ever done, all that she’s struggled to achieve and accomplish, would mean nothing
Cat couldn’t let that happen. If she did, that would mean that Pope truly won. Where Daniele and every other Mafioso failed, some backwoods sociopath would succeed and it’d be a cold day in Hell when Rossi would let that happen.
She cocked the hammer back and braced herself and counted then turned the handle.
When James threw his hip into it again, she pulled the door open and pulled the trigger.
****
“Mickey, you take the back, and I’ll take the front,” Colt said then got out of the cruiser,
his sidearm in hand.
Mickey nodded, following his lead.
The Paterson estate was dark inside and eerily quiet. The only footprints were those in the thin dusting of snow that blew off of the roof that morning, and they lead directly to the cabin.
“No!” Colt gasped.
He ran around the estate and Mickey struggled to keep up, and when he rounded the corner he slid to a stop when he met a double barrel shotgun.
“Goddamn it, Colt,” Emma choked, lowering the gun.
Colt’s eyes widened; her clothing was ripped and saturated with blood from the numerous stab wounds to her arms, legs and chest. “Grandma,” he stammered.
Emma handed the shotgun to Mickey. “Remember what she taught you,” she said as Colt helped her sit down on the back step then started checking her wounds. “The pussy wasn’t man enough to stab, he just slashed me then I faked a goddamn heart attack. If I hadn’t stopped taking those goddamn pills months ago, I would have bleed out. I’m sure that’s what he wanted. Jimmy is a pussy, always has been and always will be. He wasn’t man enough to finish it like he did all the others.”
They looked at her with wide eyes.
“I counted forty-eight shots from inside,” she continued. “They’re coming from all over the damn cabin though so I think they’re shooting at each other. Jimmy can’t hit the broad side of a barn, but Pope is a crazy sonuvabitch who’s maniacal and murderous,” she said between her teeth. “That boy is bat shit crazy. He ain’t Jimmy no more, Colt. The moment he walked out of the house, Pope took him over. He killed them all, Colt. Your parents, his parents, Marty and his family, his sister, all those girls…Raven. He’s completely insane.”