Silent Justice

by Rayven T. Hill

  He stepped down off the porch, allowing the screen door to swing closed, then made his way back to the Firebird. He got inside, tried Annie’s cell in vain, and then started the car.

  He could be fairly certain neither Annie nor Adam was in the Thorburn house. The cops at the road, or the ones in the garage, would’ve seen him for sure, and Adam wasn’t that careless.

  There was no doubt Virginia Thorburn was lying to him about something. The only reason she would lie is because she was protecting her son. Jake believed she knew exactly where he was hiding out. And if Annie was in the clutches of the madman and Mrs. Thorburn knew about it, she would be in a whole lot of trouble if anything happened to his wife.

  If his message to Adam alarmed her, then she would be sure to contact her son. Jake knew Adam didn’t have a phone—at least not one in his own name. But whether in person or by phone, Jake couldn’t be sure, but one way or another, she would deliver his message.

  And he would wait until she did.

  Chapter 41

  Thursday, 1:06 p.m.

  ADAM THORBURN let the steaming water cascade over his head and run down his body. It seemed like a long time since he had taken a shower, and the hot water felt relaxing as it washed away his stress. He would have to be careful not to use too much for fear of getting caught. That is, if he stayed here. Right now, he was uncertain what he was going to do. All his plans seemed to get thoroughly messed up.

  He shut off the shower and stood still a moment, his eyes closed, taking deep breaths to further calm his anxiety, then stepped from the shower and picked up a cloth he had found in the kitchen. It looked fairly clean, and he used it to dry off before hanging it carefully on the curtain rod to dry out.

  His clothes were stained, but clean enough until he could get some fresh ones or get the current ones washed. Maybe he would scrub them in the tub before he went to bed and let them dry overnight. His socks especially. They were kind of grimy, and he hated pulling them on again after his shower.

  After getting dressed, he picked up the pistol from the vanity, looked at it, and sighed. He hated the thing, but for now at least, it was a necessary evil. He tucked it behind his belt and pulled his shirt over top.

  He went out to the living room, lay on the couch, and curled up under the blanket. But the peace he had found in the shower was short-lived. All his miseries came rushing back—Annie in the basement, his unknown future, and the people he had murdered in cold blood.

  His anxiety grew by the second, and he shook with fear, anger, and emotional turmoil. He stood and paced the floor but couldn’t contain his anguish. It was overpowering him again and he was terrified the voices would return.

  Dashing to the bathroom, he found his medication in the cabinet where he had been careful to store it. He popped two pills, one of each, and helped them down with cold water from the tap. He looked at the half-full bottles. He was depending on them more and more, and what little good they did was only temporary.

  He put the pills in the cabinet, went back to the living room, and lay down again. He realized now, he would be caught eventually. There didn’t seem to be any doubt about that. His life had been ruined by others. Since he was young, he’d been taunted, tortured, and teased beyond what anyone should have to endure.

  “You must get rid of Annie, Adam. You must kill her now.”

  “No, Adam. It’s not her fault.”

  “Kill her, Adam. Use the pistol. She’s putting you in danger.”

  “No, Adam. No. She’s the only one who cares what happens to you.”

  “Kill her, Adam. Shoot her, then run as far away as you can. Trust me, Adam.”

  Adam rolled off the couch, stumbled to his feet, and threw his head back. “Leave me alone,” he howled, covering his ears. “Leave me alone.”

  The voices subsided but his anger remained. His life was a living hell and no one understood. No one knew the agony he went through each day to survive. No one knew the torment inflicted on him every waking moment.

  He paced the floor, enraged, his hatred increasing. Then he stopped abruptly, an idea growing in his mind. He smiled grimly and pulled out the pistol. He hadn’t fired it yet but figured it couldn’t be too hard to get the hang of it. He found the safety, made sure it was on, then popped out the cartridge. There were more than enough bullets for his purpose. He worked the cartridge back in and eased the weapon in behind his belt.

  He strode to the kitchen, found the cap his mother had brought him, and pulled it low over his eyes. After making sure no one was on the sidewalk, he crept out the door.

  He would have to be extra attentive. With all the police in the area, and Jake Lincoln nosing around, people would be on their guard, watching for him.

  He kept the hat low and turned his head when he passed a house—someone might happen to be looking out the window at the wrong time. He crossed the street to avoid a pedestrian, ducked behind trees when necessary, and gradually worked his way toward his destination, four long blocks away.

  Richdale Plaza was in the heart of this working-class community, a strip of stores that served the surrounding neighborhood. He’d had a short-lived job in one of the stores awhile back, delivering pizza on a broken-down bicycle to cheapskates who had no idea what a tip was. The rat-infested establishment was called Richdale Pizza, and that’s exactly where he was headed now.

  He slipped around the end of the building, made his way toward the service alleyway at the rear of the units, went halfway down the alley, and stopped in front of a hand-painted wooden door. A sign on the door read, “Richdale Pizza. Employees Only.”

  He’d been in and out of that door too many times on his delivery treks, and he knew it was the door the delivery boys used when coming and going.

  He also knew the bicycle leaning up against the slimy blue bin near the door belonged to Ira Toddle. Ira Toddle—the former star of the football team, the biggest boaster at school, and the dumbest cluck Adam had ever seen. He was the most popular guy who never went anywhere, his once muscular body now turned to fat, disgusting mush.

  And he was a bully.

  Adam removed the pistol from behind his belt, flicked off the safety, and crouched down behind the bin. There was always somebody ordering pizza from this crummy place, and with only one delivery boy, he knew he wouldn’t have to wait long.

  Sure enough, less than ten minutes later, the door creaked open. Adam stood, tightened his finger on the trigger, and peered around the bin. He grinned and put his pistol hand behind his back.

  Ira Toddle was coming through the door, balancing an insulated pizza bag in one palm. Unfortunately, the unknown customer was not destined to have pizza for lunch today.

  That is, unless they found another delivery boy real soon.

  Ira fastened the bag to the back of the bicycle and then spun around when Adam stepped out from behind the bin and called his name.

  “Ira.”

  Ira frowned, his eyes almost disappearing into his fat face. “What’re you doing here, Thorbrain? Shouldn’t you be cleaning out sewers or something?”

  “All finished for the day,” Adam said. “I dumped all the crap on your front lawn. You can swim in it after work.”

  Ira took a step ahead, hunched his shoulders forward, and glared. “You watch your mouth or I’ll rip you apart, you little freak.”

  Adam grinned and brought his gun hand around, pushing the pistol forward until the barrel almost touched Ira’s nose. “Who’s a freak, Toddle?”

  Ira stepped back and raised his hands halfway up, his wide eyes on the weapon. “I … I didn’t mean anything by it, Adam. I’m just joking around.”

  “I’m not,” Adam said.

  Ira swallowed hard. “I … I’m sorry.”

  “Too late for that, Toddle.”

  “Please,” the bully whined. “Put … put the gun down.”

  “You’re not such a big shot now, are you, Ira Toddle?”

  Toddle shook his head vigorously and tried to spe
ak, choking out something unintelligible.

  Adam gritted his teeth and squeezed the trigger. The resulting explosion startled him. He hadn’t expected such a big bang. The only thing he’d expected was to see a hole above Ira Toddle’s nose, and that’s exactly what he saw.

  Adam stared at the hole, watched Ira’s eyes roll up, listened to the bully’s last breath escape his lips, and then lowered the weapon as Ira folded to the pavement.

  He looked around, wondering if anyone had heard the shot. It was pretty loud.

  He scratched his head. He couldn’t leave the body here, but he would never be able to lift the fat pig into the bin.

  Adam put the weapon behind his belt, bent over, and grabbed the corpse by the feet. With much difficulty, he dragged the overweight slob’s body across the lane and deposited it behind a parked car that looked like it’d been there awhile.

  He stood and glanced around. Satisfied no one was coming to see what the noise was all about, he strolled down the alleyway to the street and worked his way back to his hideout, careful not to be seen.

  Mentally exhausted, he lay on the couch, covered up with the blanket, and fell asleep, well pleased with his accomplishment.

  Chapter 42

  Thursday, 1:44 p.m.

  ANNIE WAS TIRED of sitting on the hard floor, weary from pacing, and exhausted from trying to find a way out of her prison. She sat on the stairs, her head in her hands. All she could do is wait.

  Wait for what, she didn’t know. Wait for Adam to go crazy and kill her? Wait for Jake to come and rescue her?

  She thought about Matty. If she ever got out of here but couldn’t make it home in time, Jake would surely take care of him. If no one was home when Matty got home from school, he knew enough to go next door to Kyle’s, where Chrissy would watch him.

  But what if she never got out of here alive? Who would take care of Matty then? And who would take care of Jake?

  She stood and turned around when the lock on the door at the top of the steps rattled. The door opened and Adam stood in the doorway. He looked at her a moment before heading down the steps, then stopped and waved her back.

  She moved to the far wall, leaned back, and waited while he continued his slow plod to the basement floor.

  He stopped a few feet from her, his shoulders slumped as he rocked back and forth on his heels. Annie waited for him to speak.

  He moistened his lips, fiddling with a button on his shirt. “I think …” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I think I just killed someone.” He looked at Annie as if hoping for comfort, his eyes pleading with her.

  She spoke softly. “Who’d you kill?”

  “I … I don’t know for sure. I can’t remember, but I know it in my heart, just like last time. A vague memory I know is true, but I have no idea who it was or any of the details.” He wrung his hands.

  She took a step toward him but he held up a hand to stop her. “You’d better not come near me.” He closed his eyes a moment, squeezing them tight. Then he opened them and said, “It happens when I get agitated. When I think about how much my life sucks. Then the voices start and I lose it entirely.”

  “What did the voices say?” Annie asked.

  His eyes narrowed at the thought. “They told me to kill you.”

  Annie took a sharp breath and a step backwards, her back now to the wall. Is that why he was here now? Had he listened to the voices?

  A faint smile appeared on his lips. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I didn’t listen to them. Sometimes they go away, and I think they only force me to do something that part of me already wants to do.”

  Annie felt a measure of relief and spoke carefully. “Part of you wanted to go and kill someone today?”

  He shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I’m trying to understand what goes on in my head and what causes me to do those crazy things.” He shook his head and sighed. “I know there’s no one in my head except me, but it’s so real.” His voice turned bitter. “You can’t begin to understand what it’s like.”

  Annie’s studies had supplied her with a working knowledge of schizophrenia, but she realized knowing about it and experiencing it were two entirely different things. All the knowledge in the world couldn’t bring her to understand Adam’s pain.

  But at the same time, he was a dangerous man. For the sake of everyone around him, he had to be contained, and ultimately, there was no scenario in which Adam Thorburn could come through this a winner.

  She glanced toward the steps, wondering if she could make a dash for it before Adam could react and stop her. She decided against it. Even in his dejected state, he was still being cautious, and it wouldn’t end well for her.

  He straightened up, drew back his shoulders, and watched her closely while he said, “I want to kill myself. Will you help me?”

  Annie’s mouth widened and she shook her head adamantly. “Never.”

  “I didn’t think you would. It was just a thought.” He sighed deeply and looked away. “I don’t have the strength to do it myself.”

  “That’s not the answer, Adam.”

  “I tried already. Twice. Once upstairs with the gun, and once in the swamp. I tried to drown myself and it almost worked, but something stopped me.”

  “In the swamp?” Annie asked. “Is that where you’ve been for two days?”

  “I like it there,” he said. “It brings me peace, but now that Jake has discovered it, I can’t go back.”

  Annie’s breathing quickened. Jake was looking for her. Of course she had suspected as much, but he might be getting close.

  “Where’s Jake?” she asked cautiously.

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. I hope he went away.”

  Annie doubted that. Jake would still be in the area, and though she knew he was a little reckless sometimes, she prayed he would be careful if he ever met up with Adam. And she had to believe he would find her. It was all she had to cling to.

  She tried a different tactic. “Adam, maybe Jake and I could help you get away from here. Somewhere far away. That’s what you said you wanted.”

  He laughed. “That’s very kind of you, but I know you don’t mean that. You know how dangerous I am, and it would be rather irresponsible of you to help me.” He paused. “Nice try, though.”

  Annie shrugged. “Okay, I’ll admit, it was a pathetic attempt, but there’s one thing I know for certain. I don’t wish you any harm and you don’t wish me any harm. All I want is what’s best for everyone.”

  He nodded. “I do, too. That’s the problem with our situation. We don’t see eye to eye on what’s best for me.” He gave a short laugh, maybe from self-pity, or perhaps from the irony of the situation. “I know what’s right for everyone else. For me to go back to the swamp, jump in, and do it right this time.”

  “Think about your mother, Adam. Think about what it would do to her.”

  “I’m not so sure she cares. I’ve been a millstone around her neck ever since Dad died, and she might be just about fed up with taking care of me. Besides, she can’t afford it. My father left a little money in an account after he died, but that’s long gone.”

  Annie had no answer to that. It seemed unlikely a mother would abandon her child, but in the real world, it happened sometimes.

  “Whether or not she cares,” he continued. “It’s still better for her if I wasn’t around to cause her more headaches.”

  His eyes grew damp and he turned and paced the floor, his head down. He stopped at the wall, drew back a fist, and pounded the concrete. He howled in pain, emotional and physical, and stared at his wounded knuckles. There was fire in his eyes when he turned back to face Annie, and she shrank back against the wall.

  She watched in horror as he reached behind his back, withdrew the pistol, and held it up, glaring at it. He turned the barrel slowly until it pointed directly at her. His hand trembled, his finger shook on the trigger, and she saw
his mind in turmoil. She held her breath, not daring to breathe.

  He dropped his head back suddenly, his palms over his ears, and screamed, “Leave me alone. Leave me alone. I won’t do it.”

  Then he turned abruptly, dropped his weapon hand, and raced up the stairs two at a time. The door slammed shut behind him, the lock slid closed, and Annie slumped against the wall, able to breathe again.

  Chapter 43

  Thursday, 2:18 p.m.

  JAKE’S PATIENCE looked like it was about to pay off.

  He watched from his hiding place in a thick hedge as Virginia Thorburn walked purposefully down the driveway to the sidewalk. She carried a grocery bag in one hand, a handbag in the other. He looked at his watch. It was much too early for her to be heading to work, and nobody takes a stuffed grocery bag out of the house except to deliver something. Jake was pretty sure he knew what the occasion was.

  She was going to see Adam.

  She cast a quick glance at the unmarked car across the street, waved a hand their way, then stepped onto the sidewalk. She strolled away, casually swinging the bag as if out for an afternoon stroll.

  Jake waited until she was fifty feet away before crawling out of the hedge. He walked up the sidewalk keeping pace with her, careful to keep one of the many trees that lined the street between them whenever possible. If Virginia happened to get the slightest glimpse of him, he would be recognized immediately. For Annie’s sake, Jake couldn’t let that happen.

  She reached the end of the block, turned around slowly, and gazed his way. He pulled his head back behind a massive tree trunk and waited, daring to peer out a few seconds later.

  She had turned at the intersection and was heading up the short street that led from Mill Street to Steel Road. In a moment, she disappeared from sight. Jake stepped out, jogged to the corner, and frowned. She was gone.

  Then through his peripheral vision, off to his right, he saw the screen door at the side of the corner house snap shut. He dropped down. That had to be where she’d gone; it was the only way she could’ve vanished so quickly.