Beneath a Weeping Sky rcc-3

by Frank Zafiro

  Katie figured Tower would still buy the cocoa because it was his operation and Chisolm would do it because…well, because he was Tom Chisolm. He just did things like that.

  Her mind drifted to the events in the park two nights ago. She still hadn’t heard from any of the brass what was going to happen with her accidental discharge under the overpass. Tower told her before shift that he’d reported the incident to Lieutenant Crawford, who was going to discuss it with Captain Reott, the Patrol Captain. After that, who knew what-

  The movement surprised her. The flash of shadow made her gasp. Before she could react, an arm had already snaked around her throat and pulled her tight against the body that appeared behind her.

  She struggled, trying to reach for her fanny pack, but the attacker’s other arm wrapped around her chest and squeezed.

  Her breath left her.

  He grabbed onto her right wrist and drew him to her.

  She felt his hardness grinding into her buttocks through his clothing and hers.

  Katie froze.

  * * *

  “What the-?” Sully raised his binoculars.

  Battaglia stirred next to him. “What?”

  The scene through his binoculars was dark and difficult to make out. He saw a flash of shadow near the sidewalk, but it seemed to disappear into the trees.

  He lowered the binoculars. “I can’t see her. Check with Tower.”

  * * *

  “Adam-122 to Ida-409.”

  Tower raised the portable radio and answered, “Go ahead.”

  “We’ve lost our visual on her. Do you have an eye?”

  Tower shot an alarmed look at Chisolm. Then he answered, “No. She hasn’t come back into view yet once she headed down the rise.”

  “Copy. We should roll in and check it out.”

  Tower considered for a moment. If they rolled in and all was fine, they risked blowing the cover of the operation. But that didn’t matter if MacLeod were in danger. And besides, if all was well, who was really going to see that the operation was burned?

  He pressed the transmit button. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  “Don’t you move, bitch,” he grunted into her ear.

  Katie’s knees went weak. Terror enveloped her as if she’d plunged into a freezing lake. Unable to think or move, she felt herself drift toward the bottom.

  It was him.

  The Rainy Day Rapist.

  But to her ears, he spoke with Phil’s voice.

  Her heels drug across the sidewalk and into the brush.

  * * *

  The words broadcasted over the transmitter were scratchy and distant, but they still managed to send a shock wave through Tower.

  “Don’t you move, bitch.”

  “Oh, God,” he breathed.

  “Go!” Chisolm hollered at him, ripping his pistol from its holster. “Go, go, go!”

  Tower started the truck, racing the engine. He slammed it into gear and punched the accelerator.

  * * *

  Ten more yards.

  Ten more and then he was going to make this bitch pay. Tear her clothes away. Fuck her like she’s never been fucked before. Lay the whammo on her.

  All the way.

  His breath came quickly as he dragged her into the foliage.

  2253 hours

  His grip around her body was stifling. She could barely breathe. She stared out into the darkness, but it was the shadows of the past that washed over her.

  Her own pleas.

  Don’t do this.

  His forceful replies.

  You’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to do, bitch.

  And afterward, the condemnation.

  You liked it. Don’t forget that.

  A wet, leafy bush raked across her face, spilling cold water onto her cheek and down her neck. His ragged, excited breathing rang in her ears. His hardness bumped and grinded against her backside as he pulled her deeper into the brush.

  Katie tried to cry out, but nothing happened. She felt strangely paralyzed, her limbs and mouth refusing to obey the weak commands that came from her mind.

  Am I going to die?

  * * *

  He stopped near a pine tree. It was far enough away from the street to be out of sight through the other bushes and trees. And this one seemed too scared to scream for help. Just in case, he released her wrist and grabbed a handful of hair. With a jerk, he pulled her head back.

  “I’m going lay the whammo on you, bitch,” he whispered directly into her ear. “If you make a sound, I will kill you. You understand?”

  The woman didn’t respond.

  He yanked hard on her hair, pulling her head further back.

  “Fucking answer me!”

  * * *

  Katie felt no pain, only pressure. When he jerked her hair, it forced her head back. She stared up at the dark expanse of the sky. There were no stars visible through the cloud cover.

  “Fucking answer me!” he growled in her ear.

  Still unable to speak, she bobbed her head slightly in understanding. But in that moment, she felt a tickle of warmth in the pit of her stomach.

  Fear melted away.

  Who the hell do you think you are, you piece of shit?

  The tickle became a flare and the flare turned into a blaze. Voices from the past echoed through the wet brush that surrounded her.

  Don’t be a goddamn tease.

  You liked it. Don’t forget that.

  At least you weren’t a virgin.

  Hot rage engulfed her.

  * * *

  He felt her try to nod her head in submission. That was all he needed from her before taking care of business.

  With a hard shove, he threw her face-first into the ground. He heard her grunt as she landed. Even that modest amount of pain made him feel good. Of course, it was nothing compared with what was to come.

  He dropped on top of her, straddling her just below her buttocks. Leaning forward, he pressed his left hand onto her upper back, pinning her to the earth. With his free hand, he reached for her waistband.

  She squirmed beneath him. Without hesitation, he threw a hard punch into her kidneys. She let out a yelp as the blow landed.

  He grabbed her waistband at the small of her back and tore it downward.

  She twisted underneath him, scrambling onto her side.

  “Stop moving, bitch!” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Fuck you,” she growled back.

  The words surprised him. So did the tone. There was fire in those two words. He felt it radiating upward toward him.

  A white fury swept over him.

  How dare she?

  He slid upward, straddling her waist. Ignoring her struggling, he cocked his fist and began raining punches down on her head and face.

  “You want the whammo, bitch, you got it.”

  * * *

  The first blow stunned her. She didn’t see it coming, but only felt the raw force collide with her forehead. She battled with a dark fog that seemed to be settling in across her vision.

  “You want the whammo, bitch, you got it,” she heard him say.

  Reflexively, she raised her own hands to fend off his punches. The next one landed on her forearm, followed by a shot that she caught on the wrist. That punch drove the heel of her own palm into her mouth.

  Katie twisted and moved, trying to avoid each punch as they came out of the darkness.

  * * *

  Most of his punches weren’t landing solidly, but he didn’t care. The sheer exhilaration of raining his hatred down on this worthless bitch filled every part of his being. If it took another dozen blasts for him to catch her with one that put her out, so be it.

  It felt good.

  No.

  It felt great.

  Perfect.

  Fulfilling.

  He raised his fist for another punch.

  That was when he heard the unmistakable sound of tires screeching to a halt, followed by slamming doors. Y
ells came next, several voices at once.

  “Straight through there!”

  “Katie!”

  “Police!”

  Police? How the hell did they get here so quick?

  Flashlights darted through the darkness. The beams bounced and bobbed in his direction.

  He turned to look down at the nearly defenseless form beneath him.

  She twisted and rose toward him. Then he saw stars.

  * * *

  The punches stopped suddenly. In that brief moment, she heard tires on asphalt. Doors slammed. Familiar voices called out to her.

  She moved without thinking, twisting underneath him. She torqued her body, forcing herself upward from lying on her side. As she reached a sitting position, she drove her elbow toward his head, following through like a baseball player swinging a bat.

  Her elbow connected with something hard. Pain jolted through her arm, causing her to cry out again. Her arm fell to her side, sagging and useless.

  * * *

  The blow caught him behind the ear, stunning him.

  Stars dancing in darkness paraded across his vision. He shook his head and the stars faded away quickly.

  And his fury returned.

  He realized she was sitting up, her face even with his chest. She was too close to hit with any force. He knew he had to run in the next few seconds or he’d be caught. But he wasn’t going to let this bitch get away with hitting him.

  He reached behind her again, grabbing a fistful of hair. With a powerful yank, he pulled her away from his chest, creating enough distance between them for him to blast her with his right fist.

  He put everything he had into that one punch. He knew he was only going to get one, so it had to count. When it landed against her face, the force of the blow reverberated up and down his arm.

  She went limp.

  That felt wonderful. Better than sex.

  Reluctantly, he released her head, letting her flop to the wet ground. Then he clambered to his feet and sprinted away. Behind him, the sound of men scrambling through the bushes and calling out -

  “Katie!”

  — filled the air.

  He ran, joy and anger still coursing through his blood.

  * * *

  Tower was the one who found her. She lay stunned on the wet grass.

  “MacLeod?” He knelt down next to her. “Give me some light!” he yelled out to whoever was nearby. Almost instantly, he and Katie were awash in a powerful flashlight beam.

  “Is she all right?” Sully asked him.

  Tower didn’t answer. Her face was bruised and bloody, but the fact that her eyes were closed and her mouth slack concerned him even more.

  “MacLeod?” he asked her again, giving her a gentle shake. When she didn’t respond, he glanced toward the bright light. “Call for medics,” he ordered.

  * * *

  Chisolm crashed through the wet bushes and past the dark trees. He tried to light up his path as much as possible, while still shining his light up ahead for a sign of the suspect. While he ran, he reached for his radio.

  “Adam-112, foot pursuit!” he shouted into the portable radio.

  “Adam-112, go ahead.”

  “In pursuit of a rape suspect,” Chisolm bellowed into the mike. “We’re Mona and Post, northbound through the wooded area.”

  “Copy.”

  Chisolm gulped in a breath as he side-stepped a large root and hustled around a tree. He paused and swept his light beam ahead of him again.

  Nothing.

  Think, Tom. He can’t be that fast.

  Chisolm glanced around. Maybe he was, but maybe not. He might have gone to ground, trying to hide in the bushes to avoid them. Either way, they needed to secure the area.

  “I need a perimeter,” he told Dispatch. “Get me units up the hill on Garland at Post and at Monroe.” He figured that if he hadn’t gone to ground yet, that perimeter might hem in the suspect.

  Battaglia appeared at his side, breathing heavily. “You see anything?”

  Chisolm shook his head.

  “You hear anything?” Battaglia asked.

  “Not with you talking,” Chisolm said. He raised the radio to his mouth. “And start a K-9,” he added.

  He stood in the small wooded area and waited for the K-9. The sound of speeding police cars rushing past on Post and the reflection of the flashing red and blue lights as they zipped up the hill gave him some hope. If this guy had decided to hide, the dog would find him. If he’d continued to run, Chisolm’s only hope was that he wasn’t a fast runner. Hopefully, the perimeter would be in place quickly enough.

  Constant chatter issued from his portable radio as the dispatcher and officers coordinated the perimeter positions. Chisolm knew it was necessary, but he was impatient to get on the air to inquire about Katie’s condition.

  A few minutes later, he heard the heavy steps of Shane Gomez, the K-9 handler. His partner, a jet black German Shepherd named Cert, ran toward Chisolm in desperate lunges. Every surge forward pulled Gomez along as he held onto the dog lead. Chisolm braced himself in case the dog mistook him for the suspect, but the muscular canine brushed past him without acknowledgement.

  Gomez reined in his partner. “Cert!” he yelled, pronouncing it ‘Chairt.’ The dog whined back at him, then yelped his dissent. Gomez gave the lead a short, firm pull. “Sadni!” he ordered.

  Cert reluctantly sat, but not before issuing two more angry barks at his handler.

  Gomez grinned excitedly at Chisolm. His hair was just as black as his dog’s and his large, muscular frame made Chisolm think of him as a human version of the K-9 he was partnered with.

  “He’s got a good scent,” Gomez said. “Anything I need to know?”

  Chisolm shook his head. “No known weapons. Last seen northbound.”

  Gomez gave him a short nod. “Okay. Cover me. And stay close.”

  “You bet.”

  Gomez turned his attention back to Cert. “Let’s go, boy. Fuss him up. Get that bad guy!”

  Cert yelped and lunged forward. Gomez and Chisolm scrambled after him, with Battaglia struggling to keep up.

  “Still northbound through the woods,” Chisolm reported to Dispatch. “Nearing Glass.”

  “Copy.”

  Chisolm kept pace with Gomez and Cert. The black dog was almost invisible in front of him. The only signs of his presence were the sound of his paws scrambling over the dirt and leaves and the deep huffs of his breath. Occasionally, he let out a yearning whine. Chisolm assumed that was to let his handler know he was still hot on the trail. Of course, with the demon dog, it could simply be a desire to catch up to his prey and get his crushing jaws wrapped around it.

  The thought didn’t disturb Chisolm at all. In fact, he hoped Cert went straight for the groin.

  Battaglia had fallen back too far to be an effective cover officer. Chisolm kept his eyes trained to the left, right and behind of the K-9 handler. During a track, Gomez focused on his dog, reading the reactions to determine what the dog was sensing. That left him vulnerable. Chisolm’s duty was to protect the handler. He kept his flashlight ready, but avoided using it. He didn’t want to back-light Gomez, thereby making him an easy target.

  “Baker-126,” Chisolm’s radio crackled. He recognized James Kahn’s gravelly voice. “I’ve got a vehicle that just crossed Post at Glass. Eastbound. You want me to break perimeter and stop it?”

  Gomez reined up with Cert. He turned to Chisolm. “It’s your call,” he said, barely breathing heavy. “But I’ve got a strong scent here.”

  Chisolm considered. If Tower was right and the guy lived in the area, the odds were that he’d try to run home. If that were the case, the dog would track directly to his front door. And if the perimeter managed to hem in the suspect, breaking that perimeter now would risk giving him an opening to escape through.

  He raised the radio to his mouth. “Negative,” he said. “Hold perimeter.”

  Gomez gave him a nod in agreement.


  “Copy,” Kahn replied. “But if you’ve got any mobile units, have them check east of Post. There’s not a lot of vehicle traffic out tonight.”

  “Baker-127,” came Officer Hiero’s voice. “I got that, from Ruby and Sharp.”

  “That’ll work,” Chisolm said, slipping his radio back into the holder on his belt.

  Cert whined impatiently.

  “Let’s go,” Gomez said. “Get him, boy!”

  2301` hours

  “I don’t need to go in an ambulance,” Katie argued, her words slightly groggy.

  Tower shook his head. “It’s the medics’ call, MacLeod.”

  “Then I’ll refuse and they can A-M-A it.”

  “You can’t invoke Against Medical Advice when you’re on duty,” Tower lied. “Just take the ride.”

  Katie’s jaw set, followed by a wince. Tears formed in her eyes, though Tower couldn’t tell if they were the result of pain, anger or perhaps embarrassment. Maybe some of all of them, he decided, and reached out to touch her hand.

  “It’ll be all right,” he said in low voice that he hoped no one else besides the medics could hear.

  Katie didn’t answer, but after a moment she nodded in acquiescence.

  Without hesitation, the medics raised the gurney and slid her into the ambulance. One medic crawled in after her while the second slammed the door behind them. The second medic turned to head toward the driver’s door.

  Tower grabbed his sleeve. “Which hospital?”

  “Sacred Heart,” the man answered.

  Tower glanced down at his nametag. It read A. Hoagland.

  “Is she going to be all right, Hoagland?” Tower asked.

  Hoagland gave him a neutral look. “She took some heavy blows to the head. I think she has a concussion at the very least. They’ll do some tests on her up at the hospital to see if she sustained any injuries more serious than that.”

  “But she’ll be okay?”

  Hoagland bit his lip. “It’s hard to say with head injuries, but she’s coherent now, so that’s a good sign.”

  Tower clenched his jaw. “That doesn’t sound too promising.”

  Hoagland reached down and removed Tower’s grasp from his sleeve. “Head injuries are tricky, but she looks good right now.” He put his hand on Tower’s shoulder. “She looks like a fighter to me. I think she’ll be all right.”