Curse of the Painted Lady (The Anlon Cully Chronicles Book 3)

by K Patrick Donoghue

  On the slate landing were two packages. One was about the size and shape of a book. The other had the dimensions of a cake box. Crouching to pick them up, she said, “What have you ordered this time, A.C.?”

  The smaller package did indeed feel like the weight of a book. Pebbles crooked this one under her arm and picked up the second box with both hands. It was relatively light given the size of the package, but there was something bulky inside that shifted when she lifted it. Curious, Pebbles squinted at the shipping label, but the lighting under the front stoop was poor and she couldn’t read the tiny print. She stepped back inside the house and shut the door with her foot.

  Walking toward the kitchen, she raised the larger box closer to her face to study the label more closely. The smaller package wedged beneath her arm began to slip. Pebbles was too late to tighten the clamp of her elbow against the box and it slid free. It landed on the floor with a loud clap. Pebbles cursed and halted by a small table in the foyer. Onto this, she deposited the larger package and then bent down to retrieve the other.

  As she stood up, a floorboard creaked behind her, followed by a metallic click. Pebbles whirled in the direction of the sounds. In the doorway leading from the kitchen to the foyer loomed a hooded figure, gun held by a gloved hand.

  “Don’t move a muscle,” a stern voice commanded.

  Pebbles gasped and wobbled back a step, unconsciously enveloping Malinyah’s medallion with her fist. She darted a look toward the alarm keypad by the front door and then back at the man.

  “Don’t do it,” he said. “I will shoot you.”

  It took another second before Pebbles felt the weight of the book package in her other hand, but when she realized she was still holding it, she heaved it at him and took off for the front door. It was a stupid idea, she realized later, but in the heat of the moment it seemed like the best thing to do.

  When the gun fired, two booms echoed through the house. Pebbles tumbled to the floor and grasped her left calf. The burning sensation was so intense, she was unable to cry out for several seconds. When she finally did make a sound, it was a mix of a scream and an extended groan.

  She could feel the warm wetness seep between her fingers as she rocked on the floor. The man now stood over her and cocked the gun again. This time, it was pointed at her head. Pebbles curled into the fetal position and held up her blood-streaked hands. Through pained gasps, she pleaded, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”

  The man bent over her and ripped the medallion from her neck. Pebbles reached up to stop him and he hit her on the forehead with the butt of the gun. He yelled, “Where is it?”

  “What? What?”

  “The Stone! The Sinethal,” he said. He raised his foot and stomped on Pebbles’ wounded calf. She screamed, blood dripping from her trembling hands onto her face.

  “Where the f— is it?”

  Between moans, she said, “It’s not here. It’s not here.”

  “Where, then?”

  Despite the terror of the man screaming at her while aiming the gun at her head, Pebbles couldn’t bring herself to answer. Frustrated, the man changed tactics. He began kicking her in the back, demanding an answer between each wallop to her ribs.

  Pebbles begged for him to stop between gasps for air. The man knelt beside her and began pounding her head against the hardwood floor. Woozy and nauseated, Pebbles closed her eyes and passed out.

  The burning pain in her leg stirred Pebbles awake a little while later. She quickly discovered her hands were bound behind her back and her legs tied at the ankles. The man was no longer in the same room, but she could hear him moving about the house, slamming drawers and throwing things about. It sounded to her as if he were rummaging in Anlon’s office on the far side of the house. As her vision focused, she realized she’d been moved to the living room. Lifting her head, Pebbles could see a trail of smeared blood leading from the hallway to where she now lay. She craned her throbbing head to look at her calf and saw that her assailant had bandaged it, though blood was soaking through the dressing. The sight of all the blood on the floor and her body made her throw up.

  The man, attracted by the sound of her retching, returned to hover over her. Placing the gun barrel against her temple, he demanded, “The safe in the bedroom. Combinations. Both of them. Now.”

  Pebbles closed her eyes and blurted out the two sets of combinations. He left without a word and pounded up the stairs. While he was gone, Pebbles tried to wiggle her hands free. If she could pull them free, she could drag herself to the front hall. Once there, she thought she might be able to pull up on her knees and reach the alarm pad. But it proved to be a pipedream. Her wrists were too tightly bound, and the man came bounding down the stairs before she had made any progress.

  He grabbed her by her blood-streaked hair and dragged her back across the floor to the front hall. Pebbles cried out and squirmed, causing the man to bump into the hall table, knocking a package and a few pieces of mail onto the floor. He rolled her on her back and placed the gun barrel to her forehead. “One more chance. Where’s the Stone?”

  With the barrel pressing into her flesh, Pebbles began to cry. It was a no-win situation. If she told him that Antonio was due to arrive at any minute, and that he had the Sinethal with him, she feared he would kill her and then ambush Antonio. If, instead, she tried to stall, hoping Antonio’s arrival would scare him off, she felt certain the end result would be the same. If she continued to deny knowledge of the Stone’s whereabouts, there was no doubt in her mind he would pull the trigger. Pebbles’ heart pounded furiously as she realized her life was about to end. Between sobs, she glared up at him and spat, “F— you.”

  With a cracking blow, he crushed her skull with the gun. Pebbles blacked out again, her body spasming as the cursing man stalked away.

  Chapter 6 – Shockwaves

  Incline Village, Nevada

  September 27

  The sun was low in the sky when Antonio guided the rental car into Anlon’s driveway. He was in a bad mood, and the long drive up the mountain from Reno International Airport had only made it worse. Especially given Pebbles hadn’t responded to his texts or answered his calls.

  The first hitch in his plan had occurred when the armored vehicle carrying Malinyah’s Sinethal arrived at his office an hour late. Then, there had been construction on the 101, which cost him another thirty minutes. When he arrived at the small aircraft terminal, he had been met by his sour-faced pilot. There was a problem with one of the jet’s engines, the pilot had informed him, and he was awaiting the arrival of a mechanic to diagnose and fix the issue. Two hours and a faulty fuse later, they had finally taxied toward the runway only to discover they were twentieth in line for takeoff.

  As he stepped out of the car and shut the door, Antonio shook his head in disgust. What had started out as a quick up-and-back trip had turned into an all-day affair, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. One of Whave Technologies’ prized new inventions, a laser-toting stealth drone with an artificial intelligence–driven guidance system, had failed miserably in its first real-world test, and the Defense Department’s project manager was royally pissed. As were several members of military brass up the food chain. I should have sent Katie to deliver the Stone to Pebbles, he thought. His assistant had in fact suggested it once the phone lines began to light up with calls from angry generals.

  But Antonio had made a promise to Anlon to hand deliver Malinyah to Pebbles. Taking a deep breath, Antonio opened the car’s back door and retrieved the steel briefcase. With the case at his side, he closed his eyes and tried to quell his frustration before mounting the front steps. It wasn’t Pebbles’ fault, after all. He was the one who was late. Way late. As he started for the steps, he uttered a silent prayer that she hadn’t left on an errand; otherwise he was in for yet another delay.

  Antonio had ascended the first step before he noticed the trail of rust-colored splatters on the steps above.

  Burlington, Vermont

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sp; Jennifer sat on the edge of the hotel bed clutching the television remote. She switched from news station to news station until she found one showing the incredible video footage again.

  It began with a view of the entrance of the Middlebury Bank and Trust. The quality of the video was sketchy, having been recorded through the coffee shop window across the street. The college student who made the recording was speaking in the background to the news anchor while the video rolled.

  “I was just sitting there with my coffee, when all of a sudden I see half a dozen cops come sprinting down Main Street. So, I got out my phone and started recording.”

  Jennifer watched the recording pan to the right. In it, two officers dashed toward the bank, while four others fanned out and started clearing the street of pedestrians. A police cruiser could be seen in the background blocking Main Street to the north. The video then rotated to the left side of the bank. Another police cruiser was shown blocking the bridge at the end of the strip of shops. While the video continued to play, the student said, “I wasn’t sure what was going on, but it looked pretty serious.”

  The recording refocused on the bank entrance. On the street in front, two police officers crouched behind vehicles parked outside the bank. Two more took positions at the side corners of the freestanding building. All had their guns drawn. The video wavered up and down for a moment, and excited voices could be heard in the background as other people in the coffee shop started to crowd around the window. Then, a loud voice called out over the din: “Everybody down. Take cover. Stay away from the window.”

  The student’s video quickly shifted toward the voice. A police officer stood in the coffee shop doorway, motioning the people inside to duck down. The video angled toward the floor as the student moved away from the window. Shortly after, the video once again retrained on the bank entrance, though the image was farther away.

  When the woman appeared through the bank’s double doors, she looked angry. Jennifer was stunned at how casually she strode out of the bank, completely oblivious of the officers surrounding the bank. The video quality was awful, but Jennifer could tell the woman was slim and professionally dressed. The image was too far away to accurately judge her age, but Jennifer guessed the woman to be somewhere between thirty-five and forty-five.

  What happened next was spellbinding. Officers at the corners of the building came out from hiding, pistols aimed at the woman. They gestured gruffly for her to get down. The woman paused, looking confused as she snapped her head to the left and right. The officers cautiously approached, their gestures becoming more animated.

  The woman started to comply. She slowly removed her hands from her pockets and raised them above her head. Then, with military precision, she ducked, turned left and slapped her hands together. The officer on that side immediately flew backward, out of the camera’s view. The sound when her hands collided was so loud, it could be heard on the video over the gasps inside the coffee shop. The officer to the woman’s right fired his gun. Inexplicably, he missed. The woman spun in his direction and crashed her hands together again. The policeman tumbled from view. The woman did not wait for the next shots to be fired. She clasped her hands together and, in a swooping motion, shot a bright light that cut across the street in an arc, shattering car windows and setting others on fire. The image on the television became a blurry jumble of movements. The panicked reactions in the coffee shop could be heard in the background. On the television screen, a small inset popped up next to the blurry image. It showed the student videographer talking to the reporter. “When she did the laser thing, I freaked. Everybody freaked.”

  The television screen cut away to the news anchor. “Truly terrifying footage from earlier today in Middlebury, Vermont. We’ll take a quick break here. When we return, we’ll have more hair-raising accounts from eyewitnesses to the brazen bank robbery, plus an update on the condition of the officers injured during the face-off.”

  The newscast camera panned out and a second anchor chimed in. “All that, and we hope to bring you live coverage of the Vermont State Police press conference at the top of the hour.”

  Jennifer toggled the remote as the screen cut to commercial. This time, she landed on a local Burlington station, where a grandfatherly anchor was shown on a split screen next to a perky blonde standing on the street outside the bank. It was nighttime, and the bank was aglow with lights from the dozen news crews doing similar stand-ups. Police crime scene tape cordoned off the area around the bank, and inside it, several crime scene technicians could be seen as they gathered evidence and conferred.

  “I understand you have some breaking news, Jessica?” asked the anchor.

  “That’s right, Ted,” said the reporter, her friendly demeanor turning somber. “And I’m afraid it’s sad news. We just spoke to a police official, off the record, who told us some chilling new information. Apparently, the lead-up to the robbery began yesterday, when the robber kidnapped the bank manager and her teenaged daughter. The robber threatened to kill the daughter unless the manager helped her steal items from the bank vault. A threat she apparently carried out. We have confirmed with officials that the body of the teenaged girl was found a little over an hour ago. No word on where she was found or how she was killed, but we do know she was dead when they found her.”

  “Heartbreaking,” Ted said, lowering his gaze and shaking his head. After a pause, he looked back into the camera. “Add murder and kidnapping to bank robbery and assault. Have you learned anything more about the woman who perpetrated these crimes?”

  “Very little, Ted. At this point, the police are still scrambling to put a name to the face.”

  At the bottom of the screen, a scroll appeared. “Breaking: News conference from Vermont State Police to begin any minute. Stay tuned for live coverage.”

  Jennifer muted the television and picked up her cell phone. Thus far, she’d received no reply to her earlier texts to Anlon and Pebbles. Texts that read: “Find a TV! Right now! Bank robbery in Middlebury, VT. On all the news channels. Muran!”

  She had a strong urge to call Detective Hall, but she was reluctant to distract him, as she was sure he was engaged in the hunt. On the other hand, she believed it was critical the police know more about what they were up against. She decided to call Nickerson for his advice.

  “Nickerson,” the voice said on the other end of the line.

  “Hey, Dan, it’s Jen. Got a minute?”

  “Sure, anything for you. What’s up?”

  Jennifer stood and paced in front of the television. “You watching the news? About the bank robbery in Vermont?”

  “I’m not, but believe me, we’re on high alert about it.”

  “I think it’s the same person who killed Anabel Simpson.”

  “Thought crossed my mind, too.”

  “She’s crazy dangerous, Dan.”

  “Obviously. You heard about the girl?”

  “Yeah, just did. Pisses me off,” Jennifer said through clenched teeth. “Look, I need your advice. I’m thinking of calling Tim Hall at VSP. Let him know who and what they’re hunting.”

  “Do it. I know their heads are spinning. If you’ve got info that could help them, I’m sure he’ll be all ears.”

  “I’m worried he’ll think what I tell him is crazy, far-fetched.”

  “Jen, after that video, I can’t see how.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” she said, slumping down on the bed.

  “Listen, gotta run,” Nickerson said. “I’m heading to a roadblock we’ve set up on Route 7, just in case she tries for Massachusetts. Call him. The worst he can do is blow you off.”

  “Okay, thanks, Dan. Be safe.”

  “Will do. Any parting words of advice in case we run into her?”

  “Yeah, shoot first, ask questions later.”

  When Jennifer looked up, the press conference was about to begin. She exchanged her phone for the remote and unmuted the television. There were several people on the platform behind the un
iformed man standing at the podium. The caption beneath the picture identified him as Colonel Richard Springer, Commander, Vermont State Police. After he introduced the others, including the mayor of Middlebury and the Vermont attorney general, Springer cleared his throat and read from a prepared statement.

  “At approximately 11:34 this morning, 911 operators received a call from the Middlebury Bank and Trust branch on Main Street. The call was initiated by the branch’s security guard, who noticed unusual activity on the bank’s video surveillance feed and was concerned a robbery might be in progress. The guard was immediately patched through to the Middlebury Police Department barracks, and after a brief discussion, it was decided to send officers to the scene.”

  The commander paused from his reading and looked up at the flashing cameras. “I know there have been some questions as to why the local police did not come blazing in with sirens blaring, instead of the cautious approach evident in video footage of the incident. I think it’s important to note it was unclear to police what was happening inside the bank; even the security guard was unsure. Though he told officers the bank manager appeared to be acting under duress, the suspect did not appear to have a weapon and did not act in a threatening manner.”

  He returned to his statement. “Out of an abundance of caution, officers elected to treat the situation as a potential hostage situation and first sought to secure the perimeter and safeguard citizens in the area. Inside the bank, the security guard rounded up and sequestered bank employees and patrons, all except the branch manager who was with the suspect in the bank’s vault.

  “At approximately 11:49 a.m., the suspect exited through the lobby entrance alone. Officers outside the entrance confronted the suspect and demanded her surrender. Instead, the suspect attacked the officers and fled the scene. Three of the officers sustained non-life-threatening injuries. They were taken to the hospital and released earlier this evening. Two other officers were killed during a confrontation with the suspect as she fled the scene. Their names will be released once family members have been notified. At this hour, the suspect remains at large. A massive search is underway, led by the Vermont State Police. Given the suspect may attempt to leave the state, the state police in New York, New Hampshire and Massachusetts are also engaged in search efforts.