by David Archer
The killer had expected him to move toward the corner and get low, given him reasons to do so, and then tried to use it against him. Sam yelled, “Agh!” as loud as he could, doing his best to make it sound like a cry of pain and shock, all the while aiming his gun at the doorway. His gambit paid off, as a figure stepped out into the dark hallway, and Sam yelled, “Freeze and drop it!” The figure suddenly fell backward into the hall, and Sam was up instantly, his gun aimed down at the man's face.
It wasn't Unger. The man who lay there was a stranger, and his mouth was taped shut with duct tape, his hands bound behind his back. Sam realized his error too late, and turned to look into the room just as something struck him on the head, and he went down into darkness.
He woke to find Dora McCann kneeling over him, and the man he'd almost shot standing behind her. “Just hold still, Mister,” she said. “You got a nasty gash on the head, here, and I'm trying to clean it up a bit.” He felt her touching the throbbing monstrosity that used to be his head, and sat up, pushing her back.
“Where is he?” Sam asked.
“He's gone,” the man said. “He said to take care of you, and not to call the cops, or he'd come back and kill us.” The guy was obviously shaken. “Who the hell was he?”
Sam sighed. “Was he a tall guy? About six four?”
“Yes,” Dora said. “You called him Unger, right? Is that his name?”
Sam nodded. “As far as I know, that was almost certainly a man named Darrell Unger. He's also a serial killer, and he's been playing a game of cat and mouse with me for the past couple of days.” He touched the back of his head, and his fingers came away bloody. “Apparently he's winning, at the moment.”
“Well, what do we do now?” the man asked. “If I can't call the cops, what am I supposed to tell the insurance company about the bullet holes in the wall?”
Sam stared at him. “Don't worry,” he said, “you'll be talking to the police, and then you can call the insurance adjusters. I'm gonna call them now.” He took his phone out of his pocket, and dialed Karen Parks's cell number. She answered with a mumbled, “H'lo?”
“Karen, Sam Prichard. I know who the killer is, but he got away from me. I'm at 5122 West Hanshaw. I just stopped him from killing anyone, but he managed to knock me senseless in the bargain.”
“I'm awake,” she said. “Who is it?”
“I'm ninety percent sure it's a man named Darrell Unger, a counselor at Caleb Porter's church,” he said. “I'll give you the details when I see you, but you might want to put an APB out. He's probably gonna rabbit, now that he knows I know who he is.”
“I'm on it,” she said. “Stay put, I'm on the way.”
“I'll be here.” He cut the call, then dialed Indie.
“Sam?” she answered, sounding frantic.
“I'm okay,” he said, “and the McCanns are alright. Unger tricked me, though, knocked me out and got away. I just talked to Karen, and she's on the way out here. I'll be home after I deal with her. Everything alright there?”
She sighed. “It is now,” she said. “I got a look at what must be one of Harry's people as I got home, and he's right; I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley, but all he did was smile and nod. Sorta reminded me of that guy from The Green Mile, if you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, well, Harry would only send the best,” Sam said. “I guess Mom and Kim got home okay, too?”
“Yes, and your mother called to tell me there were two of them trailing her and Mom. She asked me if I thought she should call Harry and thank him, and I told her it could wait ‘til tomorrow.”
Sam smiled. “Good call,” he said, finally getting up off of the floor. He saw his gun lying there, and realized he'd fallen on it, so he picked it up. “I'll call when I get done here, Babe. Go on and get some sleep, I don't know how long I'll be.”
“Okay, Sam, I'll try. Love you, Babe!”
“Ditto,” Sam said, and hung up. He looked at the McCanns. “It just hit me—where are your kids?”
Dora looked at him sharply. “They're staying with friends for the weekend. Why?”
Sam smiled. “I just realized they hadn’t come screaming out of their rooms when the shooting started, is all, so I wanted to be sure they were safe. I'm glad they weren't here to go through this.”
“Yes,” Dora said. “So am I. Now, would you mind telling me what it's all about? How did you know to come here? I mean, we woke up to find this man standing over us with a gun, telling us to be quiet, and then he made poor Richard get up and taped his hands and his mouth—Lord, we thought he was going to kill us!”
She'd led Sam and her husband into the living room, and offered Sam a seat on the couch, but he shook his head and motioned for them to be quiet for a moment. He walked through the house, checking every room, before coming back and sitting.
“Well,” he said, “I got a note given to me a couple nights ago, from someone who claimed to be a serial killer. He said he had chosen three victims, and wanted me to figure out who they were before he could kill them. You were number three, I'm afraid. He had told me if I let the cops know about you, he'd kill you for sure, but if I met him here, he'd let you go. I was actually hoping I'd get to catch the bastard, though.”
“But if you know who he is, why didn't you just pick him up? Aren't you the police?”
“Oh, no, Ma'am,” Sam said. “I used to be, but now I'm a private investigator.” He took out his ID and showed it to them. “Sam Prichard,” he said. “The police are on the way here now.”
A car's headlights shined into the room as he said it, and a second later, the red and blue flashers of a cruiser began playing across the walls. There was a knock, and when Richard yelled, “Come in,” two uniform officers looked inside, guns in their hands.
Sam held up his ID again. “It's clear as far as I know, fellows. Come on in.”
“Mr. Prichard?” one of them asked, and Sam nodded.
“Yeah, I'm Sam Prichard. Karen on the way?”
“Yes, sir, she should be here any minute. She told us to come on over and secure until she got here.”
6
Karen showed up a few minutes later and took over the investigation. She spoke with the McCanns, and then took Sam outside into the waning moonlight.
“Now, would you like to tell me what on earth is going on here? I get a call in the middle of the night saying that you've identified the killer you've been after in this mess, and that he's almost killed another victim but knocked you out, instead. Why wasn't I told about this, Sam?”
Sam took the note out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Because he seems to know everything I'm doing, who I talk to, even details about my cases that no one should be able to know. If I'd called you and he'd got wind of it, I'd be waiting for him to strike at my family by now. I couldn't chance it.”
She read the note. “Okay, I can see that,” she said. “I put an APB out on him, and officers went to his place to check on him there. You may be right about him, Sam, because he's not at home, but we've got a warrant to search his place on the way right now.”
“I'm pretty sure it's him,” Sam said. “According to Bill Miller, he was the only person who could have known a certain detail that was used to lure me here, without having all of the facts straight. And the pattern of killings that Indie found fits, because there was a year that no killings happened, and it matches the year he was gone on a religious mission. Add in the fact that everyone who's gotten any glimpse of the killer says he was extremely tall, and we've got enough to bring him in for questioning. He can't possibly have alibis for all of these murders, Karen.”
She nodded. “Well, if we find him, we'll definitely be asking the questions. The question right now, though, is where do we look? If he knows you've identified him, he isn’t going to go back home, and if he's after your family, now...”
“My family's covered, at least for now. I called in some favors from Uncle Sam, and you don't want to know the details, I promise, b
ut worse yet, I couldn't tell you. Just rest assured that there are meaner people than Porter watching over my wife and family.”
She shook her head. “How am I supposed to write this up?” she asked, but walked away and back inside before he could answer. He followed and stood by while she finished up. She left shortly, saying she was done for the time being, but she made him promise to come by on Monday and make a full statement.
Sam headed for home. He was tired, he was frustrated, and he wished he'd never gotten into this mess. If Karen wanted to, she could have his license over not bringing her into this last part of the case, but he didn't think she'd be quite so vindictive. He'd done her a lot of favors in the past, and he knew he had just put himself on the hook for more in the future, but that was okay with him.
He was almost home when his phone rang, and he looked to see a number he didn't know.
“Hello?” he said, dread filling him.
“Hello, Mr. Prichard,” said Darrell Unger. “I've got to give you credit for figuring out who I am, and I'll even be honest and say I never expected that. I never thought you could do that. You're every bit as good as your reputation says you are.”
“Then why did you back out of our deal? We were supposed to meet at McCann's place, remember? You tried to kill me; that wasn't part of the plan, the last I knew.”
“Actually, that was just my reaction to you calling out my name, Sam—may I call you Sam? We know each other fairly well, now, I think, don't you?”
Sam sighed. “Where are you, Darrell? Let's bring this to an end. I've given everything to the police, and it's just a matter of time before they find you. When they do, it could be bad; let me bring you in peacefully.”
“Sam, I want to, I really do,” Unger said. “I know you won't understand this, but I really do want this to end. The trouble is that I can't seem to stop on my own, and when I try, things—well, they don't go the way I intend them to go. I've been doing this for so long, it's just not that easy to stop. I thought, you know, when I went away, that would be the end of it. Especially after I found Jesus, I was so sure I'd be free of this demon, but then I slipped, and gave in to the temptation just once, and that was that. I was hooked all over again.”
Sam shook his head in frustration. “Then let's end it, you and me. Tell me where you are, and I'll come right now. I'll take you in, and no one has to get hurt. Maybe you can run a mission in prison.”
There was silence on the line for a minute, and then it was Porter's turn to sigh. “Maybe so—but it's not that easy for me, Sam. I can't just give up; that's why I wanted you to catch me. If you can't do that, then I don't know what to do, now.” More silence. Sam was about to ask if he was still there, when he spoke again. “How about this, Sam? One more round to our game? I'll give you one more chance to stop me, but we'll raise the stakes a bit. I've already been to your mother's place, she was going to be my next—but you've got people watching them, and I bet you're surprised I saw them, aren't you?”
Sam caught his breath. “A little, yeah,” he admitted.
“Well, I did. I knew guys like them in prison, and I can tell you, the ones I saw were enough to make me change my plans. I'm sure you've got them on all of your family, so I won't be trying that—let's see, who else could I pick?” He started humming the Jeopardy theme song, and Sam's skin started to crawl. “Okay,” Unger said suddenly, “I've got it. This one's for all the marbles, Sam, winner take all. Meet me tomorrow morning, eight AM, at the place where your life began, and it'll be just you and me.”
“The place where my life began? What is that supposed to mean? I was born in California...”
“Sam, think about it. Where did your life really begin? I'll see you there in the morning. If you figure it out and make it, we'll bring this to an end, one way or another, because only one of us will leave there alive. If not—well, then I guess I'll just move along and find somewhere else to go—but someone you do care about will be gone.”
“Come on, Darrell, where could you go? You've got warrants out for you, now, and you're not exactly all that hard to spot. It won't be long before you're caught.”
“Oh, Sam, don't worry about me. I know how to vanish if I want to, and being as I have this risky hobby, I've always had backup plans. I have a dozen different names and faces, and a bank account for each and every one of them. I'll be fine. Just be thinking about where your life began, and maybe I won't need any of them. Oh, and—once again, Sam, this stays between us. Just because I can't get to your family right now doesn't mean I never could, right?”
Sam shuddered as he heard a loud crack, and he knew the phone had been tossed out the window. A moment later, he heard what sounded like an engine getting closer and closer, and then it went dead. Where did my life begin? he asked himself. What on earth is that supposed to mean?
He drove on home and put the Vette into the garage, then went into the house and to his bedroom. There was a car in front of his house, and the man in it was every bit as big as Indie had said he was.
When he got inside, he saw that she was sleeping, so he was very quiet as he got undressed and into bed, but he was still awake three hours later when the sun came up, trying to think of where his life had begun.
* * * * *
Sam felt something soft on his face and smiled, then opened his eyes. What he had thought must be Indie, kissing him softly, turned out to be Samson the cat sniffing at his lips. He smiled when he saw Kenzie standing beside the bed, covering her mouth and trying not to laugh, then grabbed the cat gently and hugged him.
“Aw, Samson,” he said, “did you miss me?”
“I did!” Kenzie yelled, and then she jumped up onto the bed and threw herself onto him. He let go of the cat and caught his daughter, tickling her as she laughed and squealed, and then Indie jumped into the middle of it, and he started tickling her, too. Within seconds, he had both of them squealing and screeching in absolute delight, and he realized what a lucky man he really was.
He stopped the tickling and pulled them both into a hug, kissing each of them over and over. Indie sighed contentedly, but Kenzie kept on screaming for him to let her go, so at last he did.
The child sat up on the bed and looked at him. “Daddy!” she said scoldingly, “you tickle too much sometimes!”
“Oh, I do, do I?” he said, and reached for her again, and she fell into fits of laughter once again as he tickled her unmercifully. When he let go this time, she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a hug, and then asked, “Where did Samson go?” The cat had apparently decided to make an escape while the tickle-fest was going on, and she slid off the bed to go in search of him.
Indie lay down beside him and smiled. “She loves you,” she said, “and so do I. Good thing you came home safe, Mister, or I'd have had to kick some butt!”
Sam smiled and held her close. “What time is it?” he asked.
“Almost one in the afternoon,” she said. “Anita just brought Kenzie and Samson home a few minutes ago, and when I said you were sleeping, Kenzie said it was time for you to wake up. I couldn't think of a valid argument, so I followed her to see what happened. Now I'm glad I did.” She pulled his face down to hers for a kiss.
“Mmm,” he said, “me, too. Although I'm getting a little hungry; guess I missed breakfast, so what's for lunch?”
“It's Sunday,” Indie said. “We serve breakfast all day on Sundays, here. What do you want?”
He pursed his lips in thought. “Hmm, lemme see. How about steak and eggs, with hash browns and toast on the side? Maybe some grape jelly?”
Indie kissed him again. “It'll be cooking when you get out of the shower,” she said. “You stink, you're all sweaty.” She wrinkled her nose to emphasize her point.
“Yeah, well, you try standing on a stage and singing under hot spotlights, then chasing a lunatic killer, and see how you smell!”
Indie's face went dark. “So, how did it go with Karen?”
“She's pissed at me for not le
tting her in on it, but when I showed her the note, she understood. They've got an APB out on Unger, but I don't know if they'll find him.” He told her about the phone call he'd gotten, and she rolled onto her back.
“Oh, God, Sam,” she said. “I thought this would be over by now. What's that supposed to mean, 'where your life began?' He's crazy. Let the cops have it, please?”
“Honey, I don't know if I can. I can't even figure out where he's talking about. I mean, 'where my life began’—I don't know what that's supposed to mean. It's like he knows stuff about me that I don't even know about myself. And like he said, just because he can't reach you right now...”
Indie just looked at him, then patted his arm. “You'll do whatever you have to do, I know that. I just want you safe. Get a shower, and I'll make your breakfast.” She rolled off the bed. “By the way, I did get ahold of Caleb Porter last night. He didn't want to believe me about Unger, but he agreed to be careful.” She turned and headed for the kitchen, with Sam's eyes glued to her pert behind until she was out of sight.
He got up and went to the shower, taking care of other bathroom necessities along the way. He was one of those guys who didn't take a long time in the shower, and he was in the kitchen before Indie even had the eggs in the skillet. A small T-bone was sizzling in another one, and the aroma was fantastic, so he got himself a cup of the coffee that was already on and sat down at the table.
He could hear Kenzie in the living room, singing along with one of the programs she'd found. He didn't know what it was, but the song was about Noah and the Ark, so he assumed it was one of the Sunday programs she liked. It made him smile to hear her it, and he whispered a little prayer of thanks for his family, as he often did.
He watched Indie cooking, one of his favorite pastimes, and grinned when she looked around once and caught him. As she usually did, she said, “What?”
Sam replied, as he always did in these moments, “Just enjoying the view, Babe.” Indie blushed, and Sam chuckled. “I'm planning to enjoy it a lot closer later tonight,” he added, and she turned even redder.