It was when she was about ten feet away from the painting that she saw it. Collectively, the yellow flowers formed a much larger shape—that of a woman sprawled on her back in the grass, one arm twisted cruelly behind her, her right leg at an awkward angle that indicated it could even be broken.
The red flowers joined to create a horror of their own, a river of blood flowing from her throat and spilling across the grass.
And in the lower right corner of the painting were the initials, bright and bold, signed by the proud artist: CF.
“Cameron, you sick bastard,” she whispered.
A cold sense of knowing swept through her. If she hadn’t known for sure before, she did now. Cameron Field was a psychopath. And he was the killer they had been looking for.
She had no idea why he would want to murder Dona Papalardo, but now that she knew who he was, she would find out. One way or the other.
Turning the light off in the room, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed Dirk as she made her way back to the guest room and the open window.
He answered after only one ring. “Yes?”
“It’s him.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw him leave as soon as I got here, so I had the house to myself. He lives alone, he’s insanely clean, and he has this sick painting of a dead, bleeding woman in his bedroom.”
Dirk was quiet as he processed that. Then he said, “Well, the clean part is highly suspicious, him being a bachelor, but I don’t know if that nails the case.”
“He keeps an ugly pet lizard just like the one that nearly bit your pinkie off.”
“It’s him! I’ll put an APB out on him. We’ll get him into the station, and I’ll lean on him so hard that—”
“Dirk, Dirk, hold on,” she told him as she straddled the windowsill on her way out of the house. “I’ve got another call coming through. It’s Tammy. Hold on.”
She pushed the flash button. “Yes, sugar. What’s up?”
“Savannah! We’ve got somebody in the house! Dona just called downstairs on the house phone and said she heard somebody in the room below her. And there’s not supposed to be anybody here but her and me!”
Savannah’s heart started pounding so hard she could hear her own pulse in her ears. “Where are you?”
“I’m downstairs. I’m headed up there now. I’ve got my gun and—”
“Wait!” Her mind raced. She couldn’t bear the thought of Tammy facing an intruder alone.
The image of Cameron Field’s beefy face passed before her. She thought of Tammy’s petite form and—
“Just wait!” she said as calmly as she could. “Go into the library and turn the lights off. Get into the corner to the left as you go into the room, behind that bookcase. Take the safety off your weapon, and have it ready, but don’t put your finger on the trigger. Do you hear me?”
“Yeah.” Tammy was breathing hard, and Savannah could hear the trembling in her voice, but she sounded alert and in control. “Okay, I’m there. But shouldn’t I go upstairs in case Dona needs me?”
“No! I don’t want you to move from that spot.” Savannah left the window open and the screen off and raced down the road toward her Mustang, still talking as she ran. “I want you to stay right where you are, Tammy. I mean it! Do not move from that position! I’m going to hang up now. I’ve got Dirk on the other line. I’m going to tell him what’s going on. As soon as you and I hang up, call nine-one-one. I’ll be there in three minutes, four tops. You be ready to let me in the front door, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And as soon as you’re finished with nine-one-one, you call me back. I’m getting into my car and I’m coming.”
She switched back to Dirk as she jumped into the Mustang. “Tammy’s got an intruder. I think it’s Field.”
“Did she call for assistance?”
“She’s doing it now. I’m on my way. I’ll probably beat them there.”
“I’m headed there now. Be careful.”
“Yeah. Later.”
Savannah tossed the phone onto the seat and started the Ford. She was grateful for an old muscle car like the Mustang as she peeled away from the curb and began wringing out the curves on her way to the main road that would lead to the Papalardo estate.
“Let her be okay, Lord. Keep her safe till I get there,” she prayed. “Keep them both safe and I’ll owe you so-o-o big!”
She knew she was doing wrong.
Her agency had been paid to protect Dona Papalardo. And good bodyguards thought of their clients’ safety first and their own second.
If Savannah had been there, she would be running up the stairs right now, gun drawn, prepared to sacrifice her own life, if need be, to save Dona’s.
But she wasn’t prepared to sacrifice Tammy’s.
It wasn’t right, but she couldn’t help it. The big sister in her, who helped her grandmother raise eight younger siblings, simply wouldn’t allow it.
Tammy was a woman, not a child, and she was as well-trained as the other seasoned members of the Moonlight Magnolia Detective Agency could train her. But she was still a civilian.
And even though Savannah was, too, she had once been a law enforcement officer and in her mind, there was a difference.
The phone rang again.
She snatched it up. “Yes?”
“It’s me,” Tammy whispered.
“Did you call nine-one-one?”
“Yes, but they said they won’t be here for at least five minutes. They don’t have any units in the area.”
“That’s okay. I’m almost there.”
“Dona called downstairs again just now on the house phone. I answered it here on the desk next to me.”
“What did she say?”
“She said someone was jiggling her doorknob.”
“Is her door locked?”
“Yes. I told her to hide in her closet, under some clothes.”
“Good girl.”
“It’s him, isn’t it?”
Savannah could hear the raw terror in her friend’s voice. She was tempted to comfort her with empty consolations, but she didn’t dare. “I think so,” she told her. “Yes, it’s probably him.”
“Good. That means we’ll get him this time.”
Savannah laughed in spite of her own fear. Leave it to Tammy to look on the bright side. Even at a time like this.
“I’m coming down the block right now,” Savannah said. “I can see the end of the driveway.”
“Oh! Savannah! Oh, god!”
“What? Tammy! What is it?”
“I hear a big bang. I think he’s crashing down her door right now!”
“I’m here. In front of the house. Open the door and let me in!”
Chapter 22
S avannah raced through the front door and up the stairs, her weapon in her hand, and Tammy right behind her. They ran down the hall to the second set of stairs leading to Dona Papalardo’s private suite.
Pausing for a couple of seconds, Savannah turned to Tammy and said, “I want you behind me, and when we get to the top, I’ll enter first. Keep your finger off that trigger unless you have to take a shot. And for heaven’s sake, don’t shoot me.”
Tammy nodded, her eyes wide, but she seemed remarkably calm, considering the circumstances.
Together they hurried up the winding stairs, but as they approached the top, Savannah paused again, listening.
She could hear Dona speaking—she sounded distressed—and a man’s voice, angry and demanding. But she couldn’t make out their words.
At the top of the stairs, the door leading to Dona’s rooms was wide open.
Savannah climbed the remaining steps, quickly but silently. Tammy followed.
Her gun in both hands, she nodded toward the right side of the door. Tammy understood and positioned herself there.
Savannah stood on the left, her pistol pointed to the ceiling.
&nbs
p; Inside the room the vocal exchange seemed to be escalating, more angry, more emotional by the second.
Savannah took a deep breath, nodded to Tammy, and ducked her head around the door for one quick look.
The room was dim, lit by Dona’s usual clusters of candles. But Savannah had seen enough.
At the other end of the room, Dona Papalardo lay back on her fainting couch, her hands held out in front of her.
And Cameron Field was standing to the right of her, pointing a large revolver at her.
Savannah swung around into the doorway, her own weapon straight out in front of her.
“Freeze!” she shouted. “Freeze!”
He didn’t even flinch. At first he didn’t even look her way. He just kept staring at Dona.
“I said, ‘Freeze,’ you bastard. If you move I’ll shoot you dead.” She hurried a few steps toward him.
In her peripheral vision she could see Tammy standing beside and slightly behind her. She, too, had her weapon trained on him.
“Put the gun down,” Savannah said, “slowly. Take your finger off the trigger and put it down.”
He didn’t comply. She could sense him evaluating, deciding.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said, stepping closer. “I’ll kill you. I swear I will. Put it down! Put it down now!”
“Shoot him, Savannah!” Dona said, holding her hands up in front of her face in a pathetically pointless gesture.
Savannah was close enough now to see his weapon. It was a Ruger .38 special.
Hands would never stop a bullet fired from a gun that size.
“Savannah, shoot him!” Dona screamed. “Do it now.”
He stared down at Dona with a look of bitter hatred. “You bitch,” he said with cold fury, “you fucking bitch.”
“Cameron,” Savannah said, “take your finger off the trigger and put the gun down now.” She heard sirens in the distance, approaching fast. “The police are on their way,” she said. “They know who you are. Don’t make things worse for yourself. Put the gun down. Don’t make me shoot you.”
She watched his eyes. His hands. His body. And she saw the moment he made his decision.
His eyes hardened. His body tensed. He swung around toward her. He swung the Ruger toward her.
She dropped to one knee, ducked her head and fired.
Tap tap…tap tap.
The words flashed through her head as the gun exploded four times in her hand.
Center mass
Neutralize. Neutralize the target.
The target was still standing. Fire flew from the end of the Ruger’s barrel.
Tap tap.
Her weapon erupted again, spewing its own fire. The air filled with choking, acrid smoke.
His arm dropped to his side and the Ruger fell to the floor.
Cameron Field shuddered once, violently. Then he fell, too.
Target neutralized.
Savannah waited one second, two, three, four. Then she rushed to him and kicked the pistol beyond his reach.
But Field wasn’t reaching. He wasn’t even trying to reach.
On his chest, several red spots were blooming, like the morbid red flowers in his bedroom painting. And like those blossoms they were stretching, puddling down onto the thick oriental rug beneath him.
Center mass.
“Is he dead?” asked a small, quiet voice behind her.
She turned and saw Tammy standing there, her gun still pointing straight ahead of her, tears streaming down her face.
Savannah stood, walked over to her and took the gun from her hand. Then she folded her friend into her arms. “Yes, sweetie. He’s gone.”
“Good.” Dona stood up from the fainting couch and brushed her hair back from her face. “He was going to kill me, just like he killed Kim and Jack. If you hadn’t stopped him, I’d be dead right now. Wow, that was a close one.”
Savannah reached over and picked up the Ruger. She swung out the cylinder. He had fired one round in their direction.
She glanced down the length of her body. Then she looked Tammy up and down.
Apparently, luckily, he had missed.
Kneeling beside his body, she saw five distinct bullet holes in his chest. A cold voice that sounded a lot like her weapons instructor at the police academy said, Five out of six, over eighty percent. Not bad.
She heard running feet pounding up the steps. A moment later, two young uniformed policemen charged into the room.
“Is everything all right in here?” one of them asked.
“No,” Savannah said. “We had an armed intruder. He threatened Ms. Papalardo. I instructed him to lay down his weapon. He turned on me and I had to take him out.” She moved aside so that they could see the body on the floor.
“Shit!” the second policeman said. “You sure did. You shot him all to hell and back. Are you a cop?”
Am I a cop? she asked herself. Good question.
Savannah could still smell the smoke of her weapon in the room. Her ears were still ringing from the shots. Her target lay dead on the floor. But everyone else in the room was alive and whole, herself included.
She had done what she had to do, and she had done it well. By the books, using her training, her courage, and her innate skill.
Technically, it was a “good” shooting.
“Tonight I was,” she said, more to herself than to them. “Tonight—when I really needed to be—I was a cop again.”
She looked around for a door that might lead to a bathroom. She saw one on the other side of the room and beyond it, a sink and toilet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said calmly, matter-of-factly, “I have to go. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Savannah and Tammy were sitting at the island in the kitchen, sipping glasses of water, when they head Dirk charge into the foyer.
“What the hell’s going on here?” he roared.
“A shooting. Body’s upstairs,” said one of the two newest policemen to arrive on the scene. Two more units with two uniforms each had responded. And Savannah and Tammy had been waiting for Dirk, settling their nerves in the kitchen.
“A body? Whose body?” He sounded more than alarmed. He sounded like he was about to start shooting people himself if he didn’t get an answer.
Savannah left her stool and hurried through the kitchen to the foyer. “Hey, Coulter,” she shouted at him. “Over here.”
The instant he saw her, his face dissolved into a sappy, but terribly endearing, expression of relief and pure joy. “Thank god,” he said as he ran over to her, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her against him.
Before she knew what he was doing, he had planted a big, warm, hard kiss on her lips.
The two young policemen standing in the doorway looked away, as though embarrassed by this unexpected display of affection by one of the ranking members of their force who was known far more for offending all members of the fairer sex than for hugging and kissing them.
But Dirk was oblivious. And to Savannah’s surprise, he gave her a second, even harder and longer kiss.
She pulled back and looked up at him to see if he had lost his mind, but he just smiled down on her with such a pure joy that she had to laugh.
“This has to stop,” she said. “This is the second time today that you’ve come back here after a shooting and hugged the tarnation out of me. And now you’re kissing me? I don’t like the way this is headed.”
“Are you all right?” he asked. Then, he suddenly looked horrified. “Tammy?”
“She’s fine, too.”
“The corpse?”
“He’s not so fine. He’s dead.”
“Cameron Field?”
“Yeah. I’m having a glass of water there in the kitchen. Come in here with me, and we’ll fill you in.”
He released her from the hug, but held her hand tightly as they walked back into the kitchen. “Hi, kid,” he told Tammy. “Glad you’re okay…again.”
“Thanks to Savannah,” she said, tears
brimming in her eyes.
Savannah sat back down on her stool, glad to have something more solid than her own legs beneath her. The adrenaline that was still coursing through her body had left her completely drained and as weak as a runner after a marathon.
“So, you took him out yourself?” he asked Savannah. “None of these cops were here yet?”
“No, they arrived right afterward.”
“Where did it happen?”
“Upstairs in Dona’s bedroom. He broke it down just before I got here. When Tammy and I ran up there, we found him holding Dona at gunpoint. I told him repeatedly to drop his weapon, but he didn’t. And when he turned it toward me, I fired.”
“Where were you, Tammy?” he asked.
When Tammy didn’t answer, Savannah said, “She was right behind me, backing me up all the way.”
“That’s such a lie.” Tammy crossed her arms on the counter in front of her, laid her face on them and began to sob.
Savannah leaned over and put her arm around her shoulders. “Honey, why are you crying? What’s the matter?”
“I didn’t back you up, and you know it,” she said, her face still buried in her arms. “I let you down so bad.”
Savannah looked over at Dirk. He gave her a questioning look.
She reached out and took a strand of Tammy’s long blond hair and let it slip slowly through her fingers. “That isn’t true, sweetie. You didn’t let me down. Why do you think you did?”
“Because…because…be…cause,” she sobbed, unable to get the words out.
Then it dawned on Savannah. “You aren’t feeling bad because you didn’t fire your weapon, are you?”
Tammy said nothing, but she nodded.
Savannah looked across the counter at Dirk, who had a serious and sad expression on his face.
She replayed the shooting in her mind, step by step. And she realized—Tammy was right.
Tammy should have fired, too.
A murder suspect was threatening an innocent person with deadly force. He had been warned repeatedly, and he was turning to fire at Tammy’s partner.
She should have fired.
Savannah reached under Tammy’s face, cupped her chin and forced her to look up. “What happened, honey? Why didn’t you take a shot? Were you afraid? Did you freeze?”
Savannah Reid 12 - Fat Free and Fatal Page 21