by Saul, Jonas
He pulled out his Glock and turned back to the clerk. He could tell the idiot had hit some kind of alarm under the counter because he was in a leaning position and hadn’t noticed the gun yet.
With the Glock held firm at his side, he walked up to and around the counter. The clerk backed against the wall.
“Look, I’m sorry, I said I can’t–”
“Tell me what room she’s in. Her vehicle is in the back. I know she’s here so make it easy on yourself and tell me where she is or you’ll die and I’ll just look in the registry.”
The gun found its way to the clerk’s chin. His eyes widened as he looked down. An understanding crossed his face.
“Okay, okay, take it easy. I put her in room 104. She’s in room 104. Just take it easy…”
Elson lowered the gun and stepped back. “That wasn’t too hard now was it?” He turned and looked under the counter where he saw the panic button. “You pushed this?”
When he looked back the fear on the guy’s face was evident. “She said you beat her up and to not let you near her. She said you burned her clothes…”
“She says a lot, doesn’t she?” Elson moved in quick. The gun dropped into this shoulder holster as his other hand yanked the knife out in a dual fluid motion. The blade opened slash marks on the clerk’s arms. Four quick gashes would make this clerk less effective for the time it would take to deal with Sarah.
The clerk dropped to the floor on his back, his face askew with pain and fear. Elson watched him writhe on the floor, screaming about his arms and then he stepped out from behind the counter and headed for the door.
He looked at his watch: 10:15pm. He had three minutes left.
He got to the door, unlocked it and jogged down the line of rooms until he hit the door for 104. There wasn’t any time left for subtlety.
With a quick pull on the weapon, he shot two bullets into the door handle and stepped back. He re-holstered the weapon and lunged forward, his right foot connecting with the door an inch away from the splintered handle.
After a crack of protest, the motel room door burst open. Elson hustled in and smacked the lights on.
The room was empty. No way would that little punk lie to him. No way.
Elson ran to the back of the room but the bathroom was empty too.
He bolted from the room and raced back to the lobby. His gun wasn’t suppressed so no doubt someone would’ve heard the shots. The Tahoe was going to blow up this minute or the next and now the lobby door to the Motel 6 was locked.
In frustration at how fast this was failing and becoming seriously annoyed, Elson used another bullet to shoot out the door’s glass. It crashed in a cascade of violent noise that he was sure others would hear over the gun.
The inside of the door had a push-bar for exiting so - instead of jumping through the now glassless door - he reached in and, mindful not to touch any shards of glass, unlocked the thumb bolt.
He swung the door open and entered the lobby, running to the counter.
The clerk was nowhere in sight, but the registry was. He scanned the names and saw that a notation was made by Sarah’s name along with room 104. The same little pen mark was ticked by room 107, but no name was on that room. It remained empty.
She must have rented two rooms and stayed in the unmarked room. Smart, but all it did was avoid him for a few minutes. It also pissed him off.
He ran for the door and exited the lobby for the last time. As he passed room 104’s open door a huge blast woke up the night behind the motel. He heard glass shattering and a woman screaming from one of the rooms.
Then he saw the door to 107 and pulled out his Glock again. He would make it quick and then get the hell out of here.
The cops wouldn’t be more than a few minutes away by now.
He stopped in front of room 107 and shot two bullets into the door handle just like on room 104 and proceeded to run at the door.
Chapter 42
Something loud woke her. Was it a dream or a real explosion of some sort?
She leaned up, her eyes groggy and looked at the alarm clock. It read 10:19pm.
She sat up. Vivian said to go for a drink at 10:18pm and now, a minute later she was awakened by an explosion. A flurry of questions taunted her mind, but she kept them at bay as she grabbed her gun, jumped from the bed and ran for the bathroom.
She was sure the explosion came from the back of the motel. The bathroom window was cracked. She stood on the edge of the tub, unlocked it and slid it open.
The Tahoe she had arrived in was completely engulfed in flames.
That confirmed it. They had found her. Whoever they were, they were here.
She hopped off the edge of the tub, turned on the bathroom light to make it look like she was using it if anyone entered the room and then re-entered the motel room, her gun raised now. The lamp she didn’t turn off earlier cast an ominous feel on an area that once felt safe but now had become a refuge for someone awaiting the gallows.
Two shots were fired. She saw the door knob bend and parts of it shattered.
A thump told her whoever was on the other side was attempting to kick it in.
She looked to her right. The only place to hide was beside the bed.
The chair she had placed under the door handle held up with the first kick. Hopefully it gave her enough time to do what was needed. As fast as she could, Sarah fixed the wrinkles in the bed to emulate how it would look if a maid had completed it. Next she ran around and squeezed herself into the foot area of the desk/dresser, her gun placed on her knees to help steady her aim.
Another kick and the motel room door still didn’t give.
She reached for fresh hair on her arms to calm her nerves but soon realized that didn’t work. Pulling hair was the old Sarah. She couldn’t start that again, so she sat there and breathed in and out as fast and quietly as she could to calm herself. Sleep cobwebs lingered but she was ready.
For a brief moment she chastised Vivian. How come she hadn’t warned her of this attack? Or was going for a drink at 10:18pm supposed to be warning enough? Life happens. Vivian had to realize that sometimes people can’t be right on top of things.
At that moment, all Sarah knew was she had to make it out alive. No matter what happened, she had to get to Fredonia, Arizona. She had to finish this.
She realized they wouldn’t stop coming until she did.
Then the door to her motel room burst open. The sounds of the night came with it. She heard a distant siren wailing from a police car, probably on its way to the motel.
The cold steel of the gun comforted her but also reaffirmed the life she had chosen. If nothing else, it wasn’t a weapon that would win her war, it was her smarts. She had to remain vigilant, determined. She had to stay alert and listen to her sister, as best she could. Most of all she needed to be ready. If she had done one thing differently tonight she may already be dead. If she’d only booked one room or didn’t use the chair under the door knob or simply was a deeper sleeper, she’d be dead by now.
Instead, she was hiding under a desk with a fighting chance.
“I see you,” the intruder said. “Come on out.”
Those words made her consider it, but she fought the urge. If he really saw her then he could come and get her. She was sure he was bluffing. For comfort she moved the gun on an angle to visually make sure the safety was off. Funny how life hung in a balance of deeds; whether done correctly or not, it all came down to who had the surprise factor or the faster weapon.
“I said come out!” he shouted.
She knew time was running out. The police were on their way. He had to leave but he came here to do a job. Maybe he was warned about her. Maybe he was told to be extra cautious and that was why he waited instead of attacking.
She heard him enter the room. The light coming in from the street outside dimmed in his wake. Then a careful step brought him closer.
She wondered if he really did see her. Nerves rattled throughout her soul. The
time he took to enter the room was driving her batty. Any second a bullet would penetrate the desktop and her skull or he would walk into view. She preferred him walking into view.
And then he did. First a cowboy boot and jean pant leg and then another.
He thought she was in the bathroom. Would she have a chance to crawl out and just leave when he got to the bathroom? This chosen life didn’t include maiming or killing. So much of her wanted to walk away from this clean. Probably because she would’ve, had she listened to Vivian. If she’d been out of the motel room for 10:18pm as she was told to be, maybe she would’ve been able to spare this guy’s life.
Or should she? After all, he had come here to kill her. She was sure of it. If so, then who else had he killed? If left alive would he try again tomorrow or the day after?
He was right in front of her now. The sirens were louder. She knew he was running out of time. He had to know it too.
Then he took three quick strides and in a crouched position brought his gun around on the empty bathroom. She could barely see out of the corner of the crawl space as he took a look back into the motel room as a couple walked past the door giggling and talking about a party.
She knew he would step in and check out the bathroom window. She was right. At the same second he stepped into the bathroom she rolled out of hiding and stood up. In her rush to stand by the wall she almost tripped on the bedspread at the corner of the bed. She caught herself from falling at the last second and stopped at the wall without banging into it.
He walked out of the bathroom holstering his weapon and started for the door.
Sarah chose, instead of leaving him alone or leaving him alive, to maim him so he would never be able to come after innocent girls again.
With the precision she’d learned by training at a firing range, she aimed at the back of his moving right knee and squeezed the trigger.
As soon as her weapon spit out a bullet, she caught the image of the front of the killer’s jeans bursting open directly in front of the knee where the bullet exited. He screamed and fell to the carpeted motel room floor in the next instant.
Surprisingly, in mid-fall, he was already reaching for his weapon again. She aimed for his gun arm and fired.
The carpet beside him puffed up where the bullet smacked it.
She’d missed. His weapon was out now. She fired again, but missed. She knew it wasn’t her skill faltering as much as her nerves were thwarting her.
Jumping forward she closed the five foot gap and stood over him firing into his right arm before his weapon was properly aimed.
Another scream from him and his gun dropped out of his hand as she shot precisely into his elbow.
Screeching tires echoed throughout the room as what sounded like police cars were pulling up to the lobby of the motel.
He looked up at her without fear. She saw only anger and hatred there. It allowed her to finish what she started.
With the grace of an expert, Sarah brought her weapon down in line with his other knee and said, “Give me your car keys or you will never walk again.”
“Fuck you,” he said and turned from her to spit onto the carpet.
She fired, point blank into the top of his good knee, on an angle that went down through it and into the femur. She did this with a sense of calm, a sense of peace, knowing that, in the end, she had saved lives today by making this man a cripple. That was his sentence to serve for the crimes he had committed. No jury would agree but they were too soft anyway.
She shoved her gun in the back of her pants and bent to fish in his pockets. The keys were easy to find. She pulled them out and was surprised again at the fight left in this man.
His only good limb, the left arm, had come up with some kind of hunting knife. The only reason he hadn’t already slashed at her was the immense pain wracking his body at the moment, and because he was right handed.
The lazy jab for her missed. She stood and kicked the knife out of his hand.
Even as he bled, as his body went into shock, he still had fight in him. This made her feel good. She felt good that she was leaving him alive so he could be tormented by the anger that was eating him on the inside.
She ran to the motel door and peeked out. There were three cruisers in front of the well-lit motel office. Maybe the guy in her room had hurt or killed Cliff the clerk. She hoped he wasn’t dead, but it explained why the cops weren’t going door to door yet.
She stepped out of the room and started toward the back of the motel. The keys had no markings on them to tell her what kind of car she was looking for, but they had a fob.
She pushed the lock and unlock buttons repeatedly until, at the back corner, right beside the exit ramp, a small Nissan Altima’s lights flicked on.
In two minutes Sarah was in the Nissan and heading south again toward Fredonia and a reality all too grim.
Chapter 43
What a mess. It sure made the cops look inept. They always seem to be doing the clean-up. Parkman knew it was because the criminals had no work ethic. They did what they wanted whenever they wanted with no rules governing them. No law books to study and no one to answer to but themselves whereas Parkman had a boss. Special Agent Jill Hanover had a boss. They all had a job to do and each one of them had to keep within the rules of that job. Sure the program worked; in theory. But Parkman knew: if he could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to they’d be a lot further ahead here instead of always trailing behind the murder and the mayhem.
His cell rang cutting off his internal dialogue.
“Hello, it’s Parkman.”
“I’m coming down there myself to get a handle on everything.”
“Jill, there’s no handle to get. Sarah is gone and we have no idea where to. The Tahoe is burnt out and the guy that attacked her in her room is undergoing emergency surgery at a hospital in Salt Lake City so I can’t talk to him until at least the morning and then we all know he’ll lawyer-up. The motel clerk is being treated for slash wounds and all he said is Sarah was running from an abusive boyfriend. It all happened and now it’s over.”
“I understand Parkman, but I’m coming anyway. As soon as I get there we will proceed to the next step. Gather anything you can from any of the other motel guests. Did they see Sarah? Did they witness…”
“I know how to do my job Jill. I’ll find out whatever I can before you get here.”
Waiting for her to respond, he stepped out of room 107 and stared up at the darkened sky.
Then Jill said, “Why do you sound dejected? Is there something you should be telling me, Parkman?”
“Yes. I’m pissed off. I’m sick and tired of showing up after the fact. I’m sick of cleaning up crime scenes and looking for clues to maybe, one day, find the bad guys. Sarah is out there alone and all we are doing for support is trying to follow her and do what? What exactly are we doing?”
“Our jobs,” Jill said. “That’s what the police do. Come on Parkman, you know how this works. We’re not psychic. How are we supposed to know where to go, who to arrest without proof? Just…”
“Just what?”
“Just don’t do anything until I get there. Ask around and see what you can find out.”
“Jill, it’s almost three in the morning. This all went down over four hours ago. Everyone is asleep.”
“I’m on my way,” she said and disconnected.
Parkman dropped his phone back in his breast pocket and looked toward the front desk. One cruiser was still parked out front; Salt Lake City police. He turned back around and stared at Sarah’s room.
“What happened here? Where have you gone?” he asked out loud.
After examining the room thoroughly, Parkman had already deduced most of what happened here. Sarah had hidden somewhere, either behind the bed or in the crawl space of the desk/dresser and made it look like she was in the bathroom. Although he didn’t see any running water in the sink or tub. Then as the guy was about to leave she got behind him and shot out one knee
. Parkman could see where she might have missed a couple of shots but then hitting his arm would have been a daunting task in this small room.
He walked the scene out again and stood where Sarah would’ve stood as she shot one more bullet into the guy’s other leg from the front.
Down on bended knee, Parkman scanned the area beside the bed but couldn’t tell if Sarah had crouched there. Wouldn’t the killer have seen her before he got to the bathroom? Maybe she hadn’t hid beside the bed. Maybe she had used the crawl space.
He hobbled over on his knees and tried to crawl in knowing Sarah was a lot smaller than he was.