by Dan Padavona
Deputy Lambert arrived and hurried to the group. Determination narrowed his eyes. Though Aguilar and Lambert ribbed each other, they’d become close friends over the years. Lambert would walk through fire to save Aguilar, and she would do the same for him.
“You believe he’s hiding Deputy Aguilar underground?” Fitzgerald asked, adjusting his hat.
Clouds smothered the moon and stars, throwing the meadow into deep darkness.
“Along with Lonnie McKinney and Scott Rehbein,” Bell said. “It’s your call, Sheriff. How do you wish to do this?”
Thomas studied the map and pointed at the property.
“Deputy Lambert and I will enter the enclosure through the trapdoor. Lambert, grab the bolt cutters out of my trunk. I assume Thorin keeps a padlock on the door.”
Lambert nodded and ran to the cruiser.
“The rest of you, split up. Agents Gardy and Bell, take the front door. Fitzgerald, go in through the back. We’ll coordinate by radio and enter at the same time. No mistakes. Strike him fast. Don’t give him time to react.”
Lambert returned with the bolt cutters. Thomas held their eyes.
“Ready?”
They were.
Gardy and Bell drove the sheriff’s cruiser to Thorin’s house while Thomas and Lambert entered the meadow. The weeds grew past their chests. When the wind blew, the grass and weeds danced like decrepit scarecrows. Except for the occasional light in the distance, Thomas saw nothing except the overgrowth in front of them. The meadow seemed to isolate and trap him.
“Thorin keeps them alive for seven days, right?” Lambert asked, pushing a milkweed stalk aside.
“If Agent Bell’s theory holds up, Thorin held Harmony Santos captive for four years. Don’t worry. Aguilar is alive.”
“What about the child?”
“Stay positive. We have to believe the captives are alive and unharmed.”
“If he hurt Aguilar, I swear I’ll . . .”
Lambert bit off the rest of his statement. The deputy grit his teeth, eyes intense.
“I feel the same way. Maintain your composure, deputy. We only have one shot to get this right.”
50
Aguilar tasted blood on her lips. Not all of it was hers.
The creep staggered, his nose broken and askew. But he wouldn’t stop. No matter how many times Aguilar bashed him with punches and kicks, the kidnapper kept coming. It was as if demons drove the man.
He lashed out with a wild swing. Aguilar ducked and slammed a fist into his ribcage. The creep buckled and stumbled against the wall while dirt rained down on their heads. For a moment, Aguilar pictured the enclosure caving in on them, burying them for eternity.
The psycho still had the keys in his pocket. Without them, Aguilar had no hope of breaking Lonnie out of the cell. She lunged and drove her shoulder into his stomach, lifting the man off his feet. His back struck the wall. He cried out and swung with his elbow. The point clipped Aguilar’s temple and dizzied her. The cells rotated. Before she shook off the vertigo, he screamed and barreled into her.
Aguilar landed on her back with the creep on top. His hands wrapped around her throat and squeezed. Behind them, Lonnie cried inside the cell and begged the man not to hurt Aguilar. This couldn’t happen. She refused to fail the boy.
But the man was stronger than she’d expected. As he straddled her stomach, she pried at his hands, unable to move him. Insanity and victory colored his bloodshot eyes. His face was a gory, disfigured mask. But he was relentless, too powerful for Aguilar.
She bridged and fought to unseat him. He removed one hand from her throat. As she gasped for air, he struck her jaw. Blood spurt from her mouth.
The hand returned to her neck. He strangled Aguilar, squeezing with inhuman strength. The gray light dimmed. Lonnie’s voice drifted away as her legs writhed across the soil.
“You dare to challenge me?” the monster yelled. He turned his head toward the child. “This is what happens when someone disobeys. Watch me kill her, Lonnie.”
Aguilar drove her elbows against his locked arms and broke the stranglehold. She sucked air into her lungs, desperate to breathe, desperate to survive. The creep yanked her head up by the hair and rained blows down on her face. The fists flew at Aguilar in a blur.
She’d almost lost consciousness when he stood over her—one hand still clutching her by the hair—and dragged her to Lonnie’s cage. Her splayed legs scrambled for purchase. Then she was on her hands and knees in front of the child, her head yanked back at an inhuman angle. His eyes locked on hers.
“Tell the boy, deputy. Tell him who your God and master is.”
“Go to hell.”
“We’re already there.”
He bashed his fist against her face. Blood drooled from her mouth and puddled in the dirt.
“Say it. I am your God and master. Do it, or I’ll open the cage and kill the child while you watch.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t hurt Lonnie.”
He released her hair and grinned. She barely recognized him beneath the blood.
“I’m waiting, deputy.”
Her chest heaved. She couldn’t suck enough air into her lungs as the earthen walls seemed to close around her. She couldn’t die here. Let him murder her in the fresh air beneath the stars or sun. Anywhere but here.
“Let her go, please,” Lonnie sobbed.
The man gripped Aguilar’s hair and pulled her head back again. A warning danced in his eyes. If she didn’t surrender to his wishes, he’d murder Aguilar and Lonnie.
She screamed and grabbed his forearms, ripping his hands from her hair. In one motion, she flipped him over her shoulders. His body struck Lonnie’s cell and rattled the bars.
Aguilar fell back on her hands and fought to regain her strength as the creep squirmed on the ground, holding the small of his back.
“You bitch!”
Aguilar’s eyes widened as he crawled to his hands and knees. Nothing stopped him. As she struggled to her feet, he rose to meet her.
His murderous screech deafened Aguilar. He dove forward, arms outstretched, hands seeking her neck. She twisted away and slammed a fist against his cheek. His legs wobbled. He supported himself against the dirt wall and spun around.
“You’ll have to do better than that.”
He came at her again. His body collided with Aguilar and drove her toward the open cellar door. She crashed through the opening and struck the water heater. Before she recovered, he tossed her across the concrete floor. The basement whipped past in a blur as the black wall of darkness beyond the window told Aguilar it was night. She reached out, searching for a weapon. He yanked Aguilar’s hair and threw the deputy across the floor again. Her body crumpled against a support beam.
The creep stalked forward, taking his time. He’d kill her slowly. Beat her until the life left her body.
When he was within arm’s reach, she kicked out and drove her heel into his belly. He doubled over and held his stomach.
Aguilar sprang to her feet. The kidnapper sneered and grabbed an old, dirty vase off the floor. He whipped it at her head. She ducked, and the glass exploded against the wall.
He approached with arrogance. When the creep grabbed her neck, Aguilar thrust her elbows between his and knocked his arms away. Her punch rocked his head back. Another blow flattened his ruined nose. The confidence left his eyes.
The psycho stepped backward before Aguilar threw her body into his and smashed him against the floor. He scrambled to his knees. Instead of attacking, he fled toward the cells. But Aguilar was right behind and caught him inside the dark enclosure. With a howl, she tossed him against the cage. He crumbled to the ground, his back wrenched.
Before he could defend himself, she kicked his head and whipped his neck sideways. He lay on the ground, clawing at the dirt, struggling to rise. His arms quivered and gave way, and he fell flat against the ground.
Aguilar mounted his back and bashed his face against the earth. The fight left his body. He
dropped flat and lay there, unmoving. She wasn’t sure if he was unconscious or dead.
She stole the key from his pocket. One eye on the fallen psycho, she staggered to Lonnie’s cell and slipped the key into the lock. As their captor had discovered, the lock was jammed.
“I wanna go home,” Lonnie cried.
The boy curled in a fetal position. He was in obvious pain, his pallor worsening with each breath. Aguilar cursed. There had to be a way to free Lonnie from the cell.
A metallic, snapping sound brought her head around. To her shock, the trapdoor opened. Night air descended into the underground cells before the first set of legs climbed down the rusty ladder. She knew immediately it was Thomas. At the same time, two muffled thuds echoed from somewhere in the house. Someone had breeched the doors.
The sheriff dropped to the ground and glanced around in horror. His eyes stopped on Aguilar, who collapsed to her knees and cried. She didn’t believe she’d ever see another human face again. Lambert dropped into the enclosure next. He took one look at Aguilar and helped her to her feet, supporting the injured deputy with her arm slung over his shoulder.
Thomas checked the psycho.
“He’s breathing,” the sheriff said.
“Get Lonnie out of the cage,” Aguilar pleaded as she leaned on Lambert. “The cell. It won’t open.”
She handed Thomas the key. As the sheriff worked the key into the lock, Lambert set Aguilar on the ground.
“Hold on. I’ll use the bolt cutters,” Lambert said.
Aguilar slumped against the cold bars and closed her eyes. Lambert grunted. The iron snapped. He used the bolt cutter on three bars before he tore the cage open and climbed inside. With Thomas’s help, he carried the boy out of the cell.
Aguilar forced her eyes open and pushed up to her knees. The child was unresponsive. No, they couldn’t be too late.
Thomas called for an ambulance as Lambert carried the boy through the cellar. Two figures appeared—Agents Gardy and Bell from the FBI. Trooper Fitzgerald joined the agents.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Thomas said as he helped Aguilar to her feet.
She staggered past Agent Bell. Fitzgerald took one of Aguilar’s arms, Thomas the other. Together, they helped her limp through the cellar. Her bare feet stepped on broken glass. She winced before Thomas and Fitzgerald lifted Aguilar and carried her over the shards. They were almost to the stairs when an inhuman scream came out of the cells. Fitzgerald set Aguilar down and reached for his gun.
The psycho rushed Agent Bell, who fell back and landed on the cellar floor. Gardy yelled and grabbed his arm. The psycho wielded a bloody shard of glass as he lunged at Agent Bell. He’d already sliced the shard across Gardy’s arm. Aguilar called out in warning before Bell’s legs shot up and snaked around the psycho’s head. She twisted her body in one quick, decisive motion.
The kidnapper’s neck snapped. His body slackened and collapsed.
Gardy held his bleeding arm with one hand. The other aimed the gun at Bell’s attacker.
Thomas trained his gun on the psycho and asked, “Is he dead?”
Agent Bell rose and stared down at her foe.
“It’s over.”
51
The night was a confusion of swirling emergency lights and raised voices. Seated beside Thomas, Deputy Aguilar huddled beneath a blanket while the paramedics carried the psycho to the ambulance. A bloody sheet covered his body. His name was Justice Thorin, and he taught fine arts at Kane Grove University. What drove a distinguished professor to kidnap innocent people and murder them?
The emergency workers had already removed Scott Rehbein’s body from his underground cell. Lonnie McKinney left in an ambulance ten minutes ago. Thomas spied the question on Aguilar’s face.
“The paramedics stabilized Lonnie McKinney. His father is on the way to the hospital. You saved that boy, Aguilar.”
She lowered her head and wept. The nightmare was over, but she wondered how long the events would haunt her. For the rest of her life, she assumed.
She stared in wonder at the English Tudor house. In her mind, she’d pictured a ramshackle home, something out of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Instead, Justice Thorin lived in a stately home with five acres of land that stretched back to the meadow. He kept the lawn mowed, and landscaped the front yard with rose bushes and tulips. The vast lot lent Thorin privacy. The closest neighbor was almost a block away.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at the trapdoor. Aguilar never wanted to see the cells again.
A van pulled to the curb.
“It’s the media,” Thomas said with a groan. “Let’s get you out of here before someone points a camera at us.”
Aguilar accepted his hand. She limped with him behind the house while Deputy Lambert and four troopers held the news crew back. Thomas set Aguilar on a hanging swing in the backyard. It seemed incongruous that a psychotic murderer would enjoy the tranquility of a cold drink on a swing. But wolves wore sheep’s clothing, and the devil hid behind details. She knew Thomas wanted to ask her what happened in that dark hellhole. He swallowed his questions, and she silently thanked him for giving her time to process the madness. As she rested her head on his shoulder, Agent Bell approached with an armful of clothes.
“I believe these are yours,” Bell said, handing Aguilar the clothes she’d worn while she hiked through the state park. “We found them in Thorin’s closet.”
The peaceful hike seemed as if it had occurred months ago. She was afraid to ask what day it was.
“Thank you,” Aguilar said, though she felt squeamish knowing the psycho had touched her clothes.
Bell lifted her chin at Thomas.
“We should give Aguilar some privacy while she changes.”
The sheriff blinked.
“Right. I’ll be out front, helping with the media if you need me.”
Aguilar handed the blanket to Bell. The BAU profiler raised the blanket while Aguilar slipped into her shorts and T-shirt. After the deputy pulled on her socks and hiking sneakers, she thanked Bell.
“Anytime. Besides, I wanted a few minutes alone with you.”
The agent’s inquisitive eyes fixed on her. Aguilar clutched her elbows with her hands.
“All right.”
“I watched you while I gave the profile.”
Aguilar glanced away.
“Okay.”
“You planned to quit law enforcement.”
Aguilar’s mouth went dry.
“How did you know that?”
Bell’s eyes softened.
“Because we’re more alike than you believe, deputy. Guess how many times I’ve wanted to quit my job.”
“But you’re considered the BAU’s top profiler.”
Bell shook her head.
“What I do comes at a price. Every time I enter the mind of a killer, a part of me dies. Justice Thorin isn’t the first person I’ve killed. When the tabloids write about the murderers I take down, they treat the body count like the final score of a baseball game.” Bell held Aguilar’s eyes. “But I remember every life I ended. No matter what they did or how many people they hurt, their deaths haunt me. I don’t want to play God.”
Aguilar rubbed the tears out of her eyes.
“When does the hurt go away?”
“It never goes away. Not completely. But it gets better when we stop blaming ourselves. Real monsters walk among us, deputy. They hide behind friendly smiles, and we never learn of their atrocities until it’s too late. Consider the lives you saved by shooting Avery Neal.” Aguilar held her breath. “I know about the shooting. You did what you needed to do. How many people would Neal have murdered had you not acted? He would have killed the entire Massey family and any officer who suspected him. The psycho murdered his own partner. You saved Deputy Lambert and Trooper Fitzgerald. Remember your heroism the next time the ghosts come calling. You saved countless lives by ending one. And Neal forced your hand.”
Aguilar couldn’t respond. Her s
houlder shook as fresh tears welled from her eyes. Agent Bell rubbed her shoulder and stood.
“I should speak to the media before I talk myself out of it. There’s someone who wants to see you.”
Aguilar wiped her eyes and drew in a calming breath. To her surprise, Trooper Fitzgerald stood over her with his hat in his hands. Over the trooper’s shoulder, Aguilar watched Agent Gardy descend through the trapdoor. Fitzgerald cleared his throat.
“How are you holding up?”
Aguilar shrugged.
“I’m alive. That has to count for something.”
“You’re a hero, deputy. I’m not just talking about how you saved Lonnie McKinney. You saved my life, as well.”
“You would have done the same for me.”
Fitzgerald nervously tapped his hat against his legs.
“I’d like to think so.”
“But what?”
Fitzgerald sighed and lifted his gaze to the night sky.
“The nightmares haven’t stopped since the shooting.” Aguilar swung her head to Fitzgerald. The trooper nodded. “It’s not just you. I haven’t slept right since. But Avery Neal’s ghost doesn’t haunt me. My failure keeps me up at night.”
“What are you talking about?”
Fitzgerald pressed his lips together.
“I froze. When Neal started shooting, my brain locked. Were it not for you, I’d be dead.”
“You fired back. I saw you.”
He issued a mirthless laugh.
“Yeah, after you shot Neal and saved my ass. You also saved Deputy Lambert. He didn’t freeze like me, but his shots flew wide.”
Aguilar grinned.
“Lambert never could hit the broad side of a barn.” She set her elbows on her knees and dropped her head. “But he’s a terrific deputy and an even better person. Maybe we’re all too hard on ourselves.”
“I guess we’re both due some soul searching.”