by Debra Webb
Bobbie stalled again. “You’re the one who stabbed the chief.”
He laughed. “I certainly did. I’m utterly pissed he didn’t die. His Realtor arrived before I could ensure he took his last breath. As you can imagine, leaving a witness forces the need to reinvent myself. Not fun. Now get the fuck in the trunk.”
Bobbie was going to kill him. Whether she survived today or not, she was going to kill Steven Devine before she drew her last breath.
For now, she did as he demanded. She climbed into the trunk and he slammed the lid shut.
As the car bounced over the ground she thought of all the things she was going to do to cause him pain. A quick death was too good for him. She wanted to watch him struggle to breathe, to endure the pain the way Bauer had. She wanted him to close his eyes for the last time knowing that he had failed. That all his work had been for nothing.
But first she had to find Nick.
* * *
Devine didn’t drive very far. The darkness prevented her from seeing much when he dragged her from the trunk. There were no lights for as far as she could see. Was Nick here? What about Weller? He could be here preparing for a big finale.
At least Fern and Vanessa were safe...hopefully.
This place was well outside the city. Considering the short distance he’d driven they were likely not far from the old plantation house, she decided. Maybe still on the property. The building he’d pushed her into was large, like a barn. No doubt there would be a barn and other outbuildings on the property.
Devine had left her and hadn’t returned. Bobbie couldn’t be sure how long he’d been gone. Half an hour maybe.
First he’d bound her hands behind her back with duct tape. Her ankles, too. Then he’d left her lying on the cold ground. Had to be a barn. What she felt beneath her was dirt and straw or hay. She twisted her hands to stretch the duct tape. She pulled her knees apart and worked at extending the strips wrapped around her ankles. Then, she slowly curled backward, trying to reach her ankles with her hands. With a little bit more time she could stretch far enough to reach beneath the cuff of her jeans. As soon as she was free the bastard was hers.
She and Devine had worked closely together for a solid month. For some reason the subject of backup pieces hadn’t really come up. Most everyone knew that a smart cop wore an ankle holster with an extra firearm for a backup piece. But she never told Devine about the knife.
She thought of the first time she and Nick had met. He’d told her where she kept each of her weapons. He’d been watching her on her runs and noted her adjusting each one. She’d learned something from him and since that time she’d worn her knife and sheath strapped to the inside of her left shin. It wasn’t as handy as it had been at the small of her back, but it was there. Just like it was now.
Devine was a dead man.
The beam of a flashlight moved toward her. Bobbie stilled.
“Heads-up, Bobbie. It’s time.”
“Where’s Nick? You said you were bringing me to him.” Bobbie dug her fingers between the denim and her skin, tunneling beneath the loosened tape. She could almost reach the knife but she couldn’t allow him to see her efforts. She struggled to keep herself still, save for her fingers. Had to keep her face clean of the effort.
“We’ll join him in a moment,” Devine said. “I have to be leaving soon.” He crouched down in front of her. “I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome now that my secret’s out. So, get ready, partner. I’ll be back in a few minutes and we’ll finish this.”
Bobbie had news for the guy. The only place he was going was to the morgue in a body bag.
Forty-Three
Old Selma Road
9:40 p.m.
Lynette set her hands on her hips and tried her best to look authoritative when the truth was she was falling apart inside.
Bauer was dead. They’d been partners for nine years. God damn it!
The chief was still in serious condition over at Baptist Medical. And she had two cops who were fucking missing. As if that wasn’t crazy enough, the two missing women they’d been searching high and low for had called 9-1-1 from Bobbie’s phone and warned that she was in trouble. Both were bruised up, dehydrated and suffering from some level of shock, but they were alive. Somehow Bobbie had found them.
But where the hell was she? And where was Devine. Neither of the women could identify their abductor. Fern insisted he was the security guy her father had hired, but there was no record her father had hired anyone just before his murder.
The kid—Sage—had pointed out Devine as looking like the man who killed his parents, and judging by things around here it had to be Devine. Bastard. Lynette had showed Fern a pic of Devine and asked if he was the security guy who had watched their house and she’d gotten hysterical. Nothing she said after that made a damned bit of sense. Later, when she’d calmed down maybe she could make a positive ID.
The morgue attendants carrying the gurney slowly navigated the staircase. Lynette didn’t see how the hell they’d moved the body with it seeped into the mattress the way it was. They hadn’t bothered trying to pull the dead cat away from the woman’s remains for fear of leaving part of the victim stuck to the cat’s carcass. Carroll would have the pleasure. Carroll had estimated the aunt had been dead about three weeks.
Lynette had known there was something off about Devine.
Bauer hadn’t liked him from day one. Lynette had assumed Bauer was a little jealous because the new guy was handsome and charming, too. Now, with the dead aunt and the black Lincoln Town Car they’d found in the garage and the two women who had been held in a hole in the ground in his backyard...fuck. Whether Fern Parker ID’d him or not, it was pretty fucking clear Devine was their killer.
“I should have listened to you, partner,” she muttered, her heart breaking all over again.
A uniform hurried to where Lynette stood in the entry hall. “Ma’am, we haven’t found Devine or Gentry or any other bodies so far.”
Where the hell were they?
Lynette ordered, “We need more spotlights. Maybe there’s another hidden cellar around here.” These old plantation homes were full of secret spaces, not to mention all the outbuildings.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Sergeant Holt, have we found our missing detectives?”
Lynette turned to find Owens striding through the door. “No, ma’am. Only Devine’s dead aunt. According to the coroner she may have been left to starve to death.” Carroll wasn’t ready to commit to the other travesties that had been done to the woman and how much of it was postmortem. “The Lincoln Town Car’s upholstery is stained with blood and there are bags of bloody men’s clothing in the trunk. I think it’s safe to say it’s the vehicle we’ve been looking for.”
Owens shook her head. “Are you telling me that Detective Devine is in some way responsible for this clusterfuck?”
“That’s what I’m telling you.” Lynette shook her head in disgust. “Anything back on the BOLO on Nick Shade?” She figured he was with Bobbie. She hoped like hell they weren’t dead already. At this point she didn’t really give a shit if Devine was dead.
“Nothing yet,” Owens said wearily.
Through the open door Lynette saw three sets of headlights bouncing up the driveway.
“Did you order more bodies to help with the search?” She looked to Owens, who was also staring at the new arrivals. The spotlights that had been set up around the house showed three unmarked sedans come to a stop in front of the house.
“I did not.”
Owens headed out onto the porch, Lynette followed.
Special Agent Michael Hadden as well as half a dozen other feds marched toward the house.
“Have you found Detective Gentry or Nick Shade?” Hadden demanded.
Lynette deferred to the lie
utenant. She had never liked Hadden. She liked him even less right now.
“We have not. How can we help you, Agent?”
“We want Nick Shade. We believe he may have information on the whereabouts of his father.”
Forty-Four
Bobbie listened intently for Devine to return. She’d tugged at the tape until it was loose enough to get one hand out, and then the other. She stretched down and dragged her knife from its sheath and used it to cut through the tape around her ankles—in the back where Devine wouldn’t be able to see unless he turned her over.
The fingers of her right hand tightened around the handle of the knife. Come get me now, asshole.
So far she hadn’t heard any sounds to indicate there was anyone else nearby. If Nick was here—and alive—he was bound and gagged. Was Devine keeping him at a different location?
Fear twisted in her belly at the idea that Weller could be coming. What if this had been Weller’s plan all along and she’d played right into it?
She did not want to be the reason Nick died. Too many people had died because of her. Her jaw tightened. It was going to end—one way or the other—today.
The beam of a flashlight neared and Devine crouched down, holding the light close to her face. Bobbie squinted at the brightness of it.
“It’s time, Bobbie.”
She tuned out all other thought and focused on the monster in front of her. Distract him. Put him off balance. “You know, Devine, I get why you murdered the Parkers and Manning. You had to lure Nick here.” She made a dismissive face. “I even understand you wanted to hurt me when you killed Bauer and tried to kill the chief. But what did your aunt or Deana Venable ever do to you? Or Mark Hanover for that matter?”
He exhaled a big breath. “Bobbie, Bobbie, Bobbie, how can you still see the world through those rose colored glasses after what Gaylon Perry did to you?”
She laughed. “I see. A tough guy like you doesn’t want to share his dark and dirty secrets. What’d your aunt do? Make you clean behind your ears? Wash your mouth out with soap?”
A smile twisted across his face. “Mostly she loved to watch, but there were plenty of times when she joined in.”
He didn’t speak for half a minute and Bobbie feared she had pushed the wrong button. She could not screw this up. Focus. He’ll see your fear.
“Dear old Aunt Pearl always wanted a daughter. She was quite bored with her nephew, so she dressed me up like a little girl and we had tea parties.” He made a sound of dismissal. “She even taped my penis against my balls so it wouldn’t show through the cute little silky panties she bought me. It all seemed quite innocent if uncomfortable to me. I was just a child after all.”
Bobbie tightened her fingers around the handle of her knife. Keep talking, you bastard.
“But then the Colonel noticed what a pretty little girl I was.” Fury tightened his lips. “He did things to me.” Devine cleared his throat. “And she never lifted a finger to stop him. I waited a long time to show her just how much I appreciated her looking the other way.”
Bobbie braced to make a move. Devine grabbed her arm. “Now, let’s go have some fun with your friend before I put him out of his misery.”
Her heart pounded with a burst of adrenaline as he hauled her to her feet. When he would have dragged her from the room she jerked at his hold, simultaneously swinging her free arm around and thrusting the knife at him. The blade swiped across his arm, piercing fabric and skin.
He growled and grabbed her forearm, holding back the knife before she could stab him in the chest. She pushed harder, roaring with determination but he was stronger than her. He forced the blade back toward her.
“Do you really think I’m going to let a bitch like you best me?”
She kicked at him. Tried to head-butt him but he dodged the move. With one arm bracketed around her waist holding her tight against his body, he forced the knife to her throat with the other hand.
Bobbie froze, her fury drained away and the survival instinct seared through her.
“I could kill you right now,” Devine whispered in her ear, the blade pressed against her throat. “But I want to fuck you first just to see what Gaylon Perry risked coming all the way back here for.”
“Just look how that worked out for him.” She spat the words at Devine.
The blade drew away from her throat and he shoved her to the ground. He tossed the knife behind him. When she would have scrambled away he drew his weapon, taking aim at her head.
“No one’s coming to save you this time, Bobbie.” He got down on his knees, straddling her waist. He placed the flashlight on the ground so that the beam shone on her face and torso. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m a lot smarter than Perry was.” He reached for her sweater with his free hand, his right keeping the muzzle of the weapon pressed against her cheek. “Let’s see some of those scars I’ve heard so much about.”
He shoved the hem upward, revealing her bra. One finger slipped into a cotton cup. She shuddered in revulsion. He ripped her bra loose and squeezed her breast. Son of a bitch she wanted to kill him!
“Hmm. Not bad.” His hand trailed down her torso until he reached her waistband. He unfastened her jeans and she went stiff and utterly still. His disgusting fingers inched farther and farther downward. “Are you always this hot, Detective?”
“Get off me, you piece of shit!” She grabbed his right arm and tried to move the weapon away from her face.
He laughed. “Don’t make me pull this trigger, Bobbie.” He leaned closer. “I’ll still fuck you even with half your head blown off.”
She twisted her body and pushed with all her might to get that gun out of her face. He snatched his hand from her jeans and rammed it against her throat, cutting off the air to her lungs and pinning her to the ground. She pushed harder. Had to... She managed to lift her head just far enough to clamp down on his right hand with her teeth.
He screamed and jerked away from her, the barrel shifting from her face. But his left hand stayed locked on her throat.
She punched him in the balls.
He backhanded her and the gun flew from his grasp.
Bobbie grabbed for his neck but he shot upward out of her reach. The flashlight rolled away.
She kicked at him but he moved up and away too quickly. It was then that she realized he wasn’t moving of his own volition. His feet dangled in the air, the beam of the flashlight spotlighting the bizarre struggle.
Bobbie scrambled for the weapon. She palmed it and groped for the flashlight while Devine struggled with whoever had hauled him off her.
“I give up!” Devine screeched between gasps for air.
Bobbie got to her feet, the weapon leveled on the sound of his voice. She turned the beam of the flashlight in that direction.
Devine held his hands out to his sides in a surrender position. His head was cocked back as if someone had him by the hair.
Bobbie spotted her knife. The blade was pressed against Devine’s throat.
Nick.
The light settled on Nick’s profile.
Relief rushed through her. He was alive.
“I give up,” Devine repeated. “Tell him, Bobbie. I’m surrendering. I have a burner phone in my back pocket. Call it in.”
Bobbie took a step toward him. “Keep your hands up.” She looked to Nick. “You okay? You can put the knife down. I’ve got him.”
Nick met her gaze, his eyes black with rage. He didn’t respond and uncertainty trickled through her.
“We’ve got him,” she repeated. “Put the knife away.”
Her heart bumped harder and harder against her sternum. Finally the blade eased away from Devine’s throat and she could breathe again. Her own throat ached from where the bastard had nearly crushed her windpipe.
They had him now. The son of a bitch wasn’t getting away. She relaxed marginally as she reached toward Devine to get the burner. “Put your hands on top of your head and get down on the ground, you piece of shit.”
“Whatever you say, partner.” The bastard started to reach upward and then he grabbed for the weapon.
The knife ripped across his throat.
Hot blood spurted across Bobbie’s face.
Devine’s hands went to the gaping wound. Blood spewed between his fingers.
He dropped to the ground.
Bobbie fell to her knees next to him, his blood oozing down her face.
Devine twitched once, twice and then the spurt of blood stopped and he stilled.
Her heart thundering, she shifted the beam away from his body until the light landed on Nick. Blood dripped from his hands, from the blade of the knife he still clutched.
There will come a day, soon I fear, when he will be forced to kill. When that time comes he will learn the deep, dark secret he has denied for so long.
Weller’s words echoed through her. Had he set all of this in motion in hopes of the events culminating in this moment?
The bloody knife fell from Nick’s hand.
Once he has experienced taking a life, he will not be able to resist killing again and again.
Forty-Five
Capitol Heights
Thursday, October 27, 8:15 p.m.
It was well after dark when Lynette got home. No matter that thirty-six hours or so had passed since she held her dead partner in her arms, she couldn’t get the smell of his blood off her. She stood at the back door and closed her eyes. God, could she do this without him?
She’d been a damned cop for fourteen years. She and Bauer had been partners for nine of those years.
How the hell was she supposed to get past this?
She went into the house through the side door and locked it. With a weary breath she toed off her shoes and left her utility belt on the floor next to them. Out of habit she placed her weapon on the top shelf above the washing machine.