by C. M. Sutter
My dad reached out and squeezed Amber’s hand.
“You’re going to be dancing with me in a week, you know,” she teased. “We’re going to light up the family room, play some hip-hop, and let it rip.”
He coughed when he laughed. “That sounds like a plan, kiddo.”
Dr. Dumont entered the recovery room. “Tom, I see you’re waking up. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve had too many Brandy Old Fashioneds.”
Dr. Dumont laughed. “Now I know where Jade gets her personality. Anyway, the surgery went fine—no complications. You’ll be on crutches for a few weeks. I know these two are going to be hovering.” He raised his right eyebrow at Amber and me. “But you do need to get up and exercise, so ladies, don’t hover too much.”
I nodded.
“No driving for those two weeks, either. After you see me again, if everything looks good, I’ll get you fitted with a knee brace. That will be on for six weeks, but you can go about your business and walk without the crutches. Mind your manners and you’ll get a release from me to go back to work at the two-week mark.”
“Understood. Thank you, doctor.”
Dr. Dumont handed me the post-op instruction sheet. “Make sure he follows this religiously. Here’s the prescription for an anti-inflammatory and a mild pain pill. I’ll see you in two weeks, Tom.” He shook our hands before he walked out. “Make sure to set up your next appointment with my nurse.”
The nurse entered the room, took Dad’s blood pressure and pulse, and asked him what he’d like to eat and drink. She offered him a choice of cranberry juice, apple juice, or water, and a granola bar or pretzels.
“I think I’ve had enough pretzels for a while. I’ll take the granola bar and apple juice, please.”
“You got it, Mr. Monroe.” She looked back from the door. “Need another warm blanket?”
“Yeah, that sounds good too.”
After dad had spent an hour in recovery, a young man from the orthopedic department came in to measure Dad for crutches.
“Mr. Monroe, I’m going to lower the footrest on the recovery chair for a few minutes. When you’re sure you don’t feel dizzy, I want you to stand for me.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Dad pushed back the blankets and sat on the edge of the chair. He nodded, and Amber and I helped him stand. I glanced at his right knee. Thick bandages wrapped multiple times made it as big as a football.
“Okay, sir, I just need to adjust these crutches to your height and position them properly under your arms. Got it. Okay, you can sit back down.”
Dad did, and I raised the footrest and covered him back up.
The nurse returned a few minutes later with his release papers and the appointment reminder card.
“I’ll get you a wheelchair, Mr. Monroe. You can get dressed and leave as soon as you feel up to it.”
Chapter 57
Max sat on the threadbare chair cushion and faced the television. He leaned forward and watched the weather forecast with his head propped between his hands and his elbows on his knees.
Static and pixilation scrambled nearly every channel. Max rose and pulled the wand on the blinds. He peered out at the ominous sky through the smudge covered window. Bending tree branches indicated the wind force had increased at an alarming rate. Max reached for his cup of coffee and turned his focus back to the television screen.
Through the choppy weather report and the TV’s abrupt freeze-frame, he got the gist of what to expect from the approaching storm. People were advised to stay indoors, avoid low areas due to flash floods, and watch for downed power lines if they had to venture out. High winds and torrential rain was expected to begin right after sunset.
Humph—sounds like my kind of night. Nobody’s focus will be on me since everyone will be glued to their television set and watching the weather channel.
Max thought back to the call he’d received yesterday afternoon. Darryl’s hearty laughter echoed through the phone lines when he talked to Max. He used his words cautiously, especially when he explained who his most recent visitor was.
“Lies, lies, lies, that’s all they do. I put that bitch right in her place, then she stormed out. She was caught in the act of being a bald-faced liar, and she couldn’t handle it. I wish you could have seen her expression—it was priceless.” Darryl mentioned again how pleased he was with the outcome of the most recent events, and now, he stressed the urgency for Max to finish task number two.
“I’ve been thinking about different scenarios that might work out well for this assignment. I aim to please you, Pa.”
“You’ll please me real good when number eight happens.”
Max checked the code on the sheet of paper spread out on his lap. Number eight asked when the second set of instructions would be completed.
Max responded, “Number eight will take place before our next conversation.”
“Very good—I’ll touch base on Friday.”
Back in the moment, Max began scratching out notes. He had a task, a short time to complete it, and now he needed a plan. He lifted the coffee cup to his mouth, took a sip, and then rubbed the tic above his left eye.
Chapter 58
I backed my car into the garage so Dad could get out on the side closest to the door that led into the kitchen.
“Amber, jump out and help Dad with his crutches. I’ll come around and open the kitchen door and make sure Spaz is out of the way.”
It proved difficult to get Dad up the two concrete steps that went from the garage floor to the kitchen, but with our help, he made it.
“Daddy, do you need to use the bathroom before you get comfortable on the recliner?”
I grinned when I saw my dad’s face blush bright red.
He stammered out a thank-you, then hobbled in the direction of the powder room, the closest bathroom to the family room. He closed the door behind him.
I chuckled. “Did you see Dad blush?”
“Yeah, I guess there’s a first time for everything. I’ll get him some blankets and his bed pillow.”
Once Dad was comfortable on the recliner with the remote and a cup of coffee within reach, Amber left to fill his prescriptions and get a few groceries. I took that time to call the lieutenant and check in.
“Hi, boss, what’s new?”
“Nothing on this end, Jade. How’s your pop?”
“He’s relaxing. The surgery went fine, and Amber just stepped out to fill his prescriptions. Any word on Max’s whereabouts?”
“The bus driver is being interviewed again. I guess he was a bit dumbfounded last night with all the police presence. He’s back in Milwaukee, and several of the guys from the downtown precinct are going over the course of events with him again.” Clark sighed. “We aren’t giving up, Jade. If we keep the pressure on him, he’ll slip up.”
“Is Jack putting together anything for the press conference?”
“Hold on.”
I heard Clark yell to Jack in the bull pen.
“He wants to talk to you himself. I’ll transfer the call. Tell your old man we have to get together over the weekend.”
“I will, boss. You’re welcome here anytime.”
I waited as Clark transferred me over to Jack’s desk phone.
“Hey, partner. Is your dad safe and sound at home now?”
“Yeah, we just got in about a half hour ago. How’s the press conference speech going?”
“Slowly. I’ve been pushing the news stations to keep showing Max’s face. They’re balking a little.”
“Why would they do that?” I passed my dad’s chair and noticed he had fallen asleep. I turned the TV off and went to talk in my bedroom.
“Because there’s a big storm brewing, and they want to focus on that. They said we haven’t given them anything new to report on Max now that he’s off the grid.”
I huffed. “Great. I’ll put something together myself. It isn’t like I’m going anywhere. Why don’t you focus on the news stations an
d take a bunch of flyers to City News? Talk them into inserting them in tomorrow’s paper.”
“Good idea, Jade. I’ll do that right now before the weather turns. So you’ll take care of putting the press conference together?”
“Absolutely, and I’ll start on it right now while it’s quiet in the house.”
I hung up and snuggled on the couch with a blanket, a cup of coffee, and my legal pad. I began to write the profile of our most recent serial killer, Max Sims.
After an hour of fervent writing, which included plenty of disturbing adjectives describing Max, I had put together a three-page profile that I planned to present in a press conference tomorrow. I looked forward to it, and I prayed it would give Max plenty of publicity. I sent a quick text off to Jack to alert our local columnists and TV stations that I’d hold the press conference at the sheriff’s department tomorrow at two p.m.
A text came in from Amber saying she was almost home. My help with the grocery bags would be greatly appreciated. I got up and crossed the kitchen to the garage door and opened it. I hit the button on the wall and lifted the overhead right as Amber pulled into the driveway. She gave me the thumbs-up as she slid her car in next to mine and parked.
“Great timing, sis. I think the storm is about to start. I heard plenty of rumbling coming from the north, and the sky is really getting black. The lightning just began too.”
“Then it’s a good night to hunker down and play cards with Dad after dinner. I’m thinking of something decadent for dessert.”
She smirked. “Mind reader. I picked up a box of double-fudge brownies with nuts.”
After that two-hour nap, Dad looked better, the color came back to his face, and he seemed relatively comfortable. I helped Amber in the kitchen while he tracked the latest news reports on this storm that was intensifying by the minute. Rain pelted the windows, and the glass sliders chattered when a direct wind gust slammed against them. I had the police scanner tuned to the North Bend stations.
“It’s getting bad out there, girls. Do you have flashlights and candles in case the power goes out?”
I flipped on the deck lights and peered out at the woods. Thin branches had snapped under the constant wind pressure and hung to the ground. “Sure do, Dad. I’ll gather a few things after dinner. Let’s get busy, sis. I’d hate for the electricity to go out in the middle of cooking.”
“I’m on it,” Amber said. “It’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
I set the table then checked on Dad. “Do you need a pain pill yet? If you do, you should take it with food.”
“Yeah, my knee is starting to throb.”
“Okay, I’ll get it.” I placed a glass of water and a Tramadol tablet on the table where my dad would sit, then I helped him off the recliner. “Here are your crutches.”
Amber dished up the chicken Alfredo and set a tossed salad on the table. Dinner was delicious, and the brownies were too. Dad listened as Amber explained everything she was learning at the academy. I saw pride spread across his face.
I cleared the table after dinner and set out a deck of cards. Amber placed the flashlight on the breakfast bar—just in case. The lights had already flickered a few times. Lightning cracked so hard it sounded as if it had hit a tree in the woods.
Dad looked toward the sliders. “Geez, it’s really getting nasty out there.”
Amber squeezed his hand. “Your call, Daddy. What do you want to play?”
He rubbed his hands together briskly in his typical gesture. He had full confidence he would win. “Texas Hold’em, of course.”
The scanner crackled and came to life right as we started the game. My ears perked as I listened to the code on the 9-1-1 call. Dispatch alerted deputies to the scene. The caller said a crazed, tall man wielding a knife had just attacked him in his house. He was bleeding badly.
“What the hell!” I jumped from the table and called Jack. “Did you just hear that report? It could be Max.”
“I’m already on my way.”
“What’s the location?”
“Jade.”
“Jack, I swear to God—”
“Okay, okay, it’s off of Highway 60 going west, 4290 Timberline Road.”
I clicked off and grabbed my gun, rain jacket, purse, and phone. I looked at my dad and sister and hated the fact that I was leaving. “Amber, keep your eye on Dad. That pain pill could make him woozy. Are you two going to be okay?”
Dad waved me off with a laugh. “Stop hovering—we’ll be fine. Just go, honey, and be careful out in that weather. Make sure you catch that maniac, and do your old man proud.”
With a final look back, I ran out, pressed the overhead, and jumped in my car. The rain and wind would slow my drive a bit—the roads were slick, and the visibility was bad.
I prayed out loud as I left the subdivision and headed to the highway. “Please, God, let this be Max, and please don’t let the caller die.”
Chapter 59
Max retreated deeper into the dense woods and took cover. He could have been seen when she turned on the deck lights. He was lucky—that would have ruined his surprise. Now, as he watched her speed away to that crank call of the nearly fatal knife attack, he had all the time in the world to complete task number two.
He secured the hood of his black rain slicker over the headlamp he wore. Even though he was soaked through and through, having the hood up was still a small improvement. He’d improvise and cut the electricity himself since the storm hadn’t cooperated enough to cause a power outage yet. He knew exactly where the electric box was located after that surveillance mission on Sunday.
Max went through the process in his mind again. Jade was gone, and that left the sister and Tom Monroe in the house alone. He remembered going through Amber’s room and seeing the police academy manual and textbooks on her desk. He knew the protocol—every student had to have their own handgun. She would need to be disabled first, and quickly. The old man had just had knee surgery, so he was useless—cop or no cop. Max chuckled at the image in his mind. He thought back to that afternoon when he’d watched Jade and Amber from a distance. They wheeled the pathetic Tom Monroe out of the hospital and into Jade’s waiting car. The old man wouldn’t pose a problem—he’d be lucky if he could even stand on his own.
Max used the trees as cover and stayed in the shadows while he inched closer to the house. The electricity and phone cables were located on the west outer wall of the condo. He’d cut the lines for both to be on the safe side. That would leave only the cell phones—he’d have to move quickly and destroy them.
When he was close enough, he slunk down and ran for the side of the house. His wire cutter and skinning knife filled the large left pocket of the rain slicker, and the ball gag and rope filled the right. A stubby claw hammer with finger grips hung from the loop in his cargo pants. Max lowered the hood on the slicker and illuminated the headlamp while he snipped wires at the electric box. Within seconds the house went black.
He moved quickly and charged up the steps to the deck, then with the force of a two-hundred-seventy-five-pound man and all his might, he kicked the slider. Glass sprayed in every direction, and shards shot throughout the family room.
Amber screamed and ran to the kitchen. Tom yelled out and fell to the floor when he tried to stand under his own weight. The crutches were beyond his reach.
A cell phone sitting on the side table next to the recliner caught Max’s eye when his light beam hit it. Tom tried tipping the table toward him, but Max was much quicker. He threw the phone to the floor and stomped it with his heavy boot, then went after Amber.
She stumbled through the blackness and crashed into the closed bedroom door, stunning herself for a second. Max was only steps behind her. She turned the knob and ran into her bedroom then slammed the door at her back, but she was no match against the strength of his enormous body. Max powered through that wooden barrier and shattered the frame, leaving Amber with nothing to use as cover. She frantically felt for something, anything
that would protect her against that monster. In less than a second, Max was on her and threw her violently against the wall. She fell quiet.
Tom’s yelling was of little help. The torrential rain and wind silenced his cries. Lightning strikes and rolling thunder drowned out his pleas for mercy. Max returned to the family room after finding Amber’s cell phone and gun. He jammed the gun into his pants pocket and stomped the phone. His focus returned to Tom Monroe. It was time to complete task number two.
“Get in that chair, old man, and sit your ass down.”
“Who are you, and what do you want? I’ll give you anything, just leave us alone. Amber, Amber! Can you hear me, honey?”
Max laughed. “The bitch can’t hear anything. Now get in that chair like I told you to.”
Max watched as Tom limped to the recliner and sat down. “So you have no idea who I am?”
Tom shielded his eyes from the bright headlamp. He couldn’t see who was behind the light. “No, I have no idea who you are! What did you do to my daughter?”
“I’m not here to talk about your youngest bitch daughter, Tom. I’m here for you, and only you. You do remember twenty years ago when you testified against Darryl Sims, don’t you? You and Judge Gardino sent him to prison for life.”
“But that was two decades ago. He deserved to be sent to prison. He murdered his wife and mother-in-law, for crissakes.”
“What you didn’t know is that he killed plenty more than those two. They were just the last ones.” Max cocked his head and smirked at the anxiety written across Tom’s face. “Darryl Sims taught me everything I know. He’s somebody very close to my heart and the one calling the shots. As a matter of fact, he says hello, and since he can’t be here to exact revenge himself, being locked up and all, I’m going to fulfill his long-overdue requests. I’m Max Sims, Tom, Darryl’s son, and I’m here to kill you.”
Max leaned in and straddled the recliner. He hovered over Tom and pressed him deeper into the chair. With his fist coiled back, Max punched Tom’s face hard and fast and knocked him unconscious. He wrapped the rope around Tom several times and knotted it behind the recliner. Max wanted the scene to look perfect when Jade arrived home and found her father. He pulled the ball gag from his pocket and jammed it into Tom’s mouth, then secured it behind his head. With a final look of approval and a click of his cell phone camera, he plunged the skinning knife into Tom’s gut and ended his life.