by Jason Parent
He entered the hall. Placing his index finger over his lips, he beckoned Tessa to follow. Michael spotted a janitor’s closet and decided that would be the best place to hide. There, he and Tessa huddled together among sponges and bottles of bleach.
Michael pulled out his phone and called 9-1-1.
“Nine-One-One. What is your emergency?”
“My name is Michael Turcotte.” He hesitated, trying to think how best to say what needed to be said without falling apart. “I think my foster parents have been murdered.”
“Please hold.”
“What? Wait!”
“What’s happening?” Tessa asked.
“She put me on hold.”
A few seconds later, a new voice came on the line. “Michael?”
“Sam?” His eyes filled with tears, the good kind. Her voice alone was enough to make him feel stronger. “Is that really you?”
“Yes. I had the operators on alert for your call. Where are you? Are you safe?”
“I’m alive, if that’s what you mean. We didn’t know where else to go, so we headed to the high school. Didn’t you get my message? Ah, never mind. Tessa’s here with me, too.”
“Michael…” Sam let out a heavy sigh. “Your foster parents are—”
“I know.”
“You know? God, I was hoping you didn’t have to see that. I’m so sorry.”
“I didn’t see it, not all of it, but I… I just know. Jesus Christ, Sam! The officers out front… what happened?”
“They’re dead, too.”
“I know. I don’t get it. He’s just one guy. Please tell me that you’ve caught him.”
“Not yet. We got a call about fifteen minutes ago from a DCF caseworker who went to your house. By the time we got there, Masterson was long gone. He’s running, but he’ll get picked up sooner or later, probably several states away. By now, his picture is plastered all over the news and has been given to every law enforcement agency in the region. His freedom will be coming to an end shortly. You can count on that. I just wish I could be the one to catch him, for your and his victims’ sakes.”
Michael wasn’t satisfied with her answer, but he had faith that Sam knew what she was doing. She’d pulled him out of a dozen shitty situations before. She wouldn’t let him down, not when he needed her most. “What should we do?”
“For now, stay put. I’ll come and get you.”
“I mean, neither of us has any place to go.”
“Yeah… I have some ideas on that. It’s going to take some figuring out, but… we can talk about that some more later.”
“What about Tessa? Her father is still out there. We have to help her, hide her someplace safe.”
“Tessa is going to need proper care, the kind I’m not qualified to give her.”
Michael placed his hand over the mouthpiece and turned to Tessa. “Sam says we can stay with her for the time being,” he lied, faking a smile. “Would that be okay with you?”
Tessa frowned. Michael couldn’t understand her reluctance. Or did she know he was lying? She didn’t exactly have a bunch of options. Tessa apparently reached the same conclusion because she finally nodded.
Michael grinned. “We’ll be okay,” he whispered, then removed his hand from the mouthpiece. “How soon can you get here?”
“Can you hold up there a little while longer? We got a hit on Masterson’s credit card from a Gas and Go. It’s actually only a few blocks from Carnegie. But don’t worry. He can’t possibly know you’re there. But just in case, stay hidden and stay quiet. I’m going to check it out, see if the employees can tell me anything useful, and after I’m done there, I’ll swing by and pick you two up. I’ll meet you at the same place where you get on the bus. But again, just to be safe, stay hidden until you see my car. I’ll call you when I get there.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Great. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”
“Yep.” Michael slid his phone into his pocket.
“What are we going to do now?” Tessa asked.
“Sam wants us to wait here.” He put his arm around her, drawing her closer.
Michael didn’t know if they had been followed or if anybody, friend or enemy, was looking for them. None of that would change what he needed to do. He had made a promise, and he intended to keep it. He had promised to keep Tessa safe. For the time being, the janitor’s closet seemed like the only safe place on the planet. He sat on the grimy floor, slouching against a wall. Tessa rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arm around his waist, tucking her hand beneath his armpit. Michael didn’t mind it. In fact, he sort of liked it.
Tessa almost seemed at peace. The only signs of distress were her scrunched-up forehead and occasional shiver, which could be from the cold or fear. Michael stroked her hair. She responded by holding him tighter. He liked that, too. He watched her head rise and fall on his chest in time with his own breathing.
“You protected me,” she said so softly Michael almost didn’t catch it. “Just like you said you would.”
“We’re not out of trouble yet.”
The reality of their situation was hard to face. They couldn’t stay in that closet forever. Gently, Michael lifted Tessa’s arm from across his chest. He sat up, still holding her, trying to shake out the pins and needles. His back was stiff from lying in the same awkward position with her weight against him. Not that he was complaining.
Like an elderly man stricken with arthritis, Michael slowly rose to his feet. He turned and offered her his hand. He let her hand linger in his a bit after she was already standing, then he let go and put his ear against the closet door. All quiet. He doubted anyone was in the school. Still, he hesitated before opening the door.
“I don’t want to go out there,” Tessa said. “Not just yet anyway. What will we do? Where will we go?”
“Sam will take care of us.” He believed it. He hoped she would, too.
All Tessa’s fear once again showed on her face as soon as they stepped out of the closet. She started pacing and chewing on her nails. Her hair was kinked and poofy, her clothes wrinkled. Eyes shimmering, Michael looked at her as if she were a hurt puppy. He felt as if a solid mass had formed in his throat.
He thought of his foster parents. “Greg… Helen.” His eyes burned. “It’s my fault…”
Tessa wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly. “No. It’s not your fault.”
“They didn’t deserve it,” he said, fighting back his tears. “I shouldn’t have left them. I just ran, and now…”
Tessa looked up at him. “What you did back there took courage. I need you to stay brave for me a little while longer.”
Courage? Michael didn’t remember courage. He remembered being terrified. Christopher Masterson had entered his home and killed his foster parents. What did I do? I ran. “I’m so sorry,” he said, no longer able to hold back his tears.
She hugged him again. “You don’t need to be sorry.” She kissed his cheek. “You’re a hero. You attacked Father to save your foster parents… to save me. It’s more than I ever did.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. The warmth of her breath against his cheek caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. “No one has ever done anything like that for me before.”
Embarrassed, Michael broke away. “Come on,” he said, pulling her back toward the classroom where they had broken in. “Sam should be here any minute. She just has to stop by a gas station fir—” He froze. “Wait! Where’s the Gas and Go around here?”
She gave him a confused look. “Do you mean the one near the liquor store at the bottom of President Avenue?”
Michael pictured the gas station in his mind. On the side of the building were two large ice bins. Over them hung a giant blue tarp with the word “ICE” printed on it. The lights over the pumps were always so bright at night, and the parking
lot looked exactly like the one he had seen in his vision, the one where he had seen Sam violently murdered.
He grabbed Tessa’s shoulders. “I have to go. Sam’s in trouble.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Your father set a trap for her. He’s waiting for her to show up at that convenience store. I can’t explain right now. There’s no time. You stay here. Keep calling 9-1-1 until someone connects you with Sam. Tell her not to go to that gas station. Tell her that whatever she does, she can’t go there.”
He had saved one damsel from distress, only to let another fall victim to his oversight. He scrambled through the window and took off at a sprint. He knew he would have to run faster than he had in his vision. In his vision, Michael had been too late to save her.
Chapter 29
The last half hour had been hectic. Sam hadn’t slept since she’d let Masterson slip away, and she had four more deaths to chalk up to her mistake. Michael’s foster parents were among the dead. Greg Plummer had been gutted like a fish. His entrails flowed from a trench dug into his belly and spiraled on the floor like soft-serve ice cream.
Helen’s death had been less gruesome but just as horrifying. Her throat had been slit. A gash severing bone and tendon ran across her hand. She must have tried to grab the blade before it could slice through her carotid artery. Blood was splattered everywhere, even on the untouched roast pork sitting on the dining room table.
Sam had been sent to the Plummers’ home when neighbors reported a woman’s screams. While Sam was on her way over, a DCF employee who had been unfortunate enough to arrive shortly after the carnage called 9-1-1. One neighbor reported seeing two kids, a boy and a girl, running from the house and down the street. Many more had seen a man matching Masterson’s description exit the home after the screaming had stopped. If the eyewitness accounts were accurate, and Sam had no reason to think they weren’t, Masterson was headed in the same direction as Michael and Tessa.
When she received Michael’s call, Sam was relieved, but she still had a psychopath to catch. Masterson’s gas station stop spoke volumes. Experience had taught Sam that such errands were always in preparation for flight. He was probably on his way to Mexico or Canada. Unless someone spotted his vehicle, he would be extremely difficult to find, assuming he was smart, and the trail would go cold. Then, when money or supplies dwindled, Masterson would resurface. That was when law enforcement would catch him.
It’s only a matter of time before he screws up. When he does, he’ll be coming back to us, barring any outstanding warrants in other states. Tessa said he had killed others. Maybe one of them was in a state that not only has the death penalty but also the balls to enforce it.
Masterson had screwed up, not once but twice, and Sam knew it. He’d given the Fall River Police Department multiple chances to catch him, and each time, Sam and her team had squandered them. Secured in their evidence locker was the very weapon used to murder Gloria Jackson. Jackson’s DNA was speckled all over the damn thing. After some slick lawyering had foiled that arrest, Masterson’s daughter came through with a tell-all biography of her father’s crimes. Again, Sam failed to bring Masterson to justice, losing a fellow officer in the attempt.
Still, Masterson hadn’t immediately fled. He dawdled in her city, evidently planning to kill the one person who could finger him for his crimes. She scolded herself for taking her eyes off Tessa and wondered if she had been blinded by her closeness to the case, particularly to Michael. Perhaps the threat of her own death was what had made her sloppy.
A quadruple homicide later, Masterson was still in Fall River. It was as if he were mocking her whole damn department. He had even used his credit card down the street at the Gas and Go, and they had still missed him. Her squad’s delay, like the rest of its mistakes, was inexcusable. So many chances had been blown.
We have to get him. She couldn’t accept the possibility that her murder suspect had slipped away unseen. Masterson would be only the second killer to get away in her long career. The first, though many years prior, never left Sam’s mind. He tormented her thoughts every day—the one who had killed her partner. She didn’t like leaving things unresolved. Her cases weren’t supposed to go cold.
And the current case had become personal. Masterson had threatened the life of someone Sam held dear. She felt she had to catch the man for her three deceased officers, for Gloria Jackson, for the Plummers, and even for Tessa. But most of all, Sam had to make him pay for what he’d done to Michael. She was the one who had put the boy in a killer’s crosshairs, so she had to remove all possibility that Michael could be hurt by Masterson.
Just give me one more chance, you son of a bitch. Sam slammed her fist against the steering wheel. Give me one more chance, and I promise you, I won’t waste it.
Thoughts of vengeance filled Sam’s mind as she pulled into the gas station parking lot. She scanned the lot then double-parked her car along a row of spaces at the edge of the lot running parallel to President Avenue.
Inside the store, she flashed her badge at the clerk. “Detective Reilly, Fall River Police Department. I need you to answer a few questions.”
The clerk, a biker type with a gray handlebar mustache and a bandana partly covering thinning wiry hair tied back in a ponytail, leaned over the counter. “Uh…”
She slammed Masterson’s picture on the counter. “About fifteen minutes ago, this man was a customer here. What can you tell me about him?”
“I’ve never seen him before, but my shift only started a minute ago. Francine was working before me.”
“Francine?”
“Delaney.”
“Is she here?”
“No, she left when I came in.”
“Did she work with anyone else?”
“She doesn’t usually.” The clerk shuffled through some papers he pulled from under the counter. “No one else was supposed to be here at that time, but like I said, I wasn’t here. So I can’t tell you anything for certain.”
“Do you know where Ms. Delaney lives?”
“No.”
Sam pointed at the papers. “Her address isn’t in there?”
He shook his head. “Nah. These are just the schedules. Her phone number is on here, if you want that.” He read off a phone number.
Sam pulled a small notebook and a pen from her jacket pocket. She wrote down the number and Francine’s name. A video camera in the corner caught her eye. She pointed at it. “How many of those cameras do you have?”
“Four, but they aren’t recording.”
“You have surveillance cameras, but you don’t turn them on?”
“I’m not even sure they work. The boss says he keeps them for their deterrence factor, whatever that means. We haven’t been robbed in over a year, so maybe he’s right. Of course, we’ve had the cameras a lot longer than that.”
Sam shook her head. She was getting nowhere. She wasn’t even sure if there was anywhere to get to. All appropriate authorities had been alerted to Masterson’s apparent desire to relocate. Maybe his capture was out of her hands.
After getting Masterson’s purchase information from the register—gas only, paid at the pump—Sam left the store. She had a pair of teens to pick up, and they were probably terrified. She smiled. She was looking forward to seeing Michael alive and safe.
She stepped beneath the high-wattage overhead lights, watching her shadow stretch out before her. Her Camry was parked at the far reaches of the bright mirage of protection. Beyond was an unlit field, and to her left, a dumpster sat in darkness, shielded from the lights by the structure between them.
When did it get so dark? The days were short, cold, and the nights colder, typical of New England winters. The streetlights came on around four o’clock.
As she passed the corner of the building, a chilling wind rattled the blue tarp affixed to the wall. Teeth chattering, she hugged hersel
f tightly as she hurried to the passenger side of her vehicle. After opening the car door, she tossed her pad and pen on the passenger seat. Before doing the same with her cellphone, she decided to check it for messages.
“Shit!” Her phone was off. I must have powered it down after I talked with Michael. Sam pressed a button, and the screen lit up. She got behind the wheel and placed the phone on the console.
She grabbed the radio handset and keyed it. “Dispatch, this is Reilly. I’m calling it quits for the remainder of the evening.”
“Okay, Detective,” the dispatcher replied. “See you in the morning.”
“Tell the captain I’ll bring the girl in tomorrow so we can record her statement. Keep me posted with any updates on Masterson.”
“Roger that.”
As she returned the handset, she heard someone shouting. She looked through the windshield and saw someone leaping over a drainage ditch in the vacant lot between the convenience store and President Avenue. He was sprinting toward her, screaming the whole way. Instinctively, she put her hand on her gun as she squinted, trying to see if the person was armed.
Is that… Michael? She smiled when she realized it was. She climbed out of the car and rested her arms on the open door, overwhelmed by strong emotions she usually kept subdued. She didn’t care. Michael deserved to know how she felt.
“Behind you!” Michael shouted.
The two words registered at the same moment that she became able to make out the fear on Michael’s face. Sam spun and jerked sideways just as a large knife was thrust at her. The blade missed her by mere millimeters. Her shirt sleeve wasn’t so lucky. The knife tore through then slammed into the car window, creating a fiberglass spider web.
Masterson! Sam hooked her arm around his and held it immobile against her body. She clamped his arm tightly, preventing a second strike. Thrusting her right hand forward, she hit Masterson at the base of his nose with her palm and continued with the upward momentum. The move, if done with enough power, could have killed him. At the least, it was sure to make his eyes water, temporarily blinding him.