Head Shot

by Dan Ames

  "Getting caught may not be his biggest concern right now."

  "Then what is?" Lenzen asked.

  "Finding his next victim."

  Chapter 45

  Joe Ferkovich set the bowl of popcorn on his lap and turned on the television.

  A commercial was on so he stretched his arms and itched at adhesive the fake beard and mustache had left.

  His headache, which yesterday had grown to monumental proportions, was receding. Now, there was just a gently throbbing pressure along the middle of his forehead. It would have been gone completely if his search at the park had been successful but no one came along that presented the right opportunity.

  Joe settled for pulling out a newspaper clipping with a picture of Lisa Young.

  Ferkovich popped the top on a warm beer and slumped further back into the cushions of the bench seat.

  His time behind bars was helping him deal with the claustrophobia on the boat. The minute he had started to feel closed in he thought back to his little cell that had been his home for those years and he felt much better. This was like a well-furnished condo compared to that hellhole.

  He popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth, lifted his legs up and set them on top of the small table in front of him.

  He looked across at the picture of Lisa Young.

  "What do you say we just stay home tonight and watch the tube, honey?" he said.

  "If you want to do something else, speak now or forever hold your peace," he said, holding a hand to his ear. "Okay, it's settled, we'll hang out here."

  Ferkovich took a long pull from the beer.

  "I say we watch Nation’s Most Wanted. I suppose you want to watch a sitcom or something like that, don't you?"

  Joe was disappointed the photo didn’t respond. He could almost imagine the young woman’s mouth moving.

  The commercial came to an end and the opening sequence of the true crime show began.

  Ferkovich clapped his hands together and looked at the photograph.

  "See, now that's the hallmark of a great relationship. Compromise. That's one of the reasons I love you so much."

  Chapter 46

  "And now," boomed the voiceover, "it's time for Nation’s Most Wanted!"

  A shot of the show's host filled the camera frame and then he turned and looked directly into the camera.

  As workers scurried to and from the desks with papers in their hands, the gravelly voice of the narrator continued.

  "Tonight, a killer is loose in Wisconsin, and detectives would like your help to lock him up and throw away the key!"

  The show’s logo zoomed to full screen as the voiceover finished with a big flourish.

  "Nation’s Most Wanted - where America fights back! And now, here's your host."

  The camera cut from the logo to the host, seated casually on the edge of one of the desks.

  "Tonight, Milwaukee Police are hot on the trail of a serial killer. Watch the following story and keep your eye open for this guy. He's dangerous and he's out there somewhere tonight looking for his next victim."

  The scene shifted to a re-enactment. A coffee shop was having a slow night as a young, attractive blonde came into the shop to order a coffee. The host's voiceover continued over the scene.

  "A week ago, Lisa Young was a woman with a bright future. She was engaged, but hadn't told anyone yet. Excited over the prospect of planning a wedding, she went to the Java House, a small coffee shop north of the city."

  On the screen, the blonde drank her coffee, and flipped through a magazine. A slow dissolve showed the woman finishing her coffee, leaving a tip, and walking out the door. A man followed her.

  "When she leaves, several witnesses see a man follow her out of the shop."

  The camera showed the parking lot and the attractive woman unlock her car. A shadow fell across her face.

  "Lisa Young was never seen alive again.

  "Hours later, authorities discovered the body of Lisa Young. She had been assaulted then brutally murdered. Police had no leads until a second murder occurred and this time there was an eyewitness. We'll let a Milwaukee homicide detective take the story from here."

  Ray Mitchell's face appears on the screen.

  "Using the eyewitnesses description from the second murder and from the patrons at the coffee shop, as well as some additional evidence, we were able to ascertain the identity of the suspect."

  The host again spoke to the camera.

  "The man suspected of these two murders, as well as several others, is Joseph P. Ferkovich."

  A photo of Ferkovich filled the screen.

  "Please take careful note of the features,” the host said. “Especially the lazy eye. This man is extremely dangerous. He's killed several people already and he may be getting even more desperate. He was last seen in this pickup truck." A still photo of Jimmy Tomczak's truck appeared on the screen. "And he could still be in Wisconsin, Michigan or anywhere in the Upper Midwest."

  The host turned dramatically to look into the camera as he stabbed his finger directly at the lens before Ferkovich's mug shot flashed onto the screen once again.

  "Look closely, if you can tell us anything about where Joseph P. Ferkovich might be tonight, please call 1-800-CRIME-TV. Let's put this guy away for good!"

  Chapter 47

  Conversation in Feit's Saloon resumed as the final stories on the show finished up and credits for Nation’s Most Wanted rolled up onto the screen.

  "Jesus Christ," the bartender said. "To think that fricking nut might be around here somewhere."

  Hank pushed against the bar and heaved his enormous bulk off the bar stool. A pitcher of beer halfway down the bar slopped over its edge and its owner turned angrily toward the end of the bar, saw Hank, and quickly turned the other way.

  "I hope he's somewheres around here," Hank said and did his best to pull up his pants.

  "What would you do to him, Hank?"

  The big man smiled and held up a fist the size of a Christmas ham.

  "Ever clobber a sturgeon over the head and see its eyes fall out of their sockets as it flops around the bottom of the boat?"

  The bartender nodded.

  "Well, there you go," Hank said. "Thanks for the beers, I'll see you a little later."

  He walked out of the dark tavern and behind him the noise inside the bar rose a notch as everyone breathed a bit more freely after seeing the monster at the end of the bar vacate the premises.

  Outside, Hank breathed in the cool crisp air. The beers were doing their job by creating a nice layer of smooth velvet over his senses.

  Ordinarily, he would've sat on his bar stool until closing time or the first good fight came his way, but tonight he had promised to stop by and see his buddy who was moving to a new apartment. He wanted Hank to help him move the refrigerator. Well, actually, he wanted Hank to move the fridge.

  Hank unlocked his door and clambered into the big Ford Bronco.

  His mind thought back to what he'd seen on television and a slow anger rose inside him.

  The job as unofficial bouncer at Feit's hadn't really changed him. Although he would never qualify to be a cop, he now kind of thought of himself as a civilian cop.

  He liked the idea.

  The fact was, he didn't really know what self-esteem was, but he was beginning to feel better about who he was. Sure, people knew about how he kept his dead mother in the bathtub, but shoot, no one talked about it much anymore.

  His work as the bouncer paid him enough for groceries and not much else. But he could drink all the beer he wanted as long as no one got the better of him in a bar fight and managed to bust up the place.

  Hank had finally found something he was good at doing, that he enjoyed doing, and that he could make a living doing. Drinking in a bar and fighting. It was perfect.

  And he even had a girlfriend. She was a slicer at the cheese factory and had lately taken a liking to Hank.

  By all accounts, Hank was doing just fine. Except for one s
mall thing.

  He was just about out of gas.

  The Bronco's wheel turned easily in his hands, and he pulled out of Feit's parking lot onto the main road desperately trying to remember where his buddy Darren lived and what would be the fastest way to get there.

  The lights of the gas station changed his mind.

  He pulled on the left side of the station's only pump.

  A Taurus was parked in the lane closest to the shop, and Hank saw a person stretched out in the back seat.

  He popped the lid on his gas tank and unscrewed the cap, then pulled the nozzle out of the pump and stuck it inside the tank. He set the clip on the highest speed and listened to the sound of gas being propelled quickly into the Bronco.

  His eyes drifted over the Taurus.

  Hank casually took two small steps closer to the pump, which gave him a better view of the car's back seat.

  A woman, with brown hair and a pretty face was sprawled out on the back seat, her left arm trailing into the floor space.

  Her face was partially in the shadow cast by the pump's supports which held up the metal roof.

  Hank turned his attention back to his pump and saw the numbers were rapidly approaching the ten dollar mark.

  He reached over quickly and snapped the release on the trigger lever, and the numbers stopped. His thick fingers slid into the handle and he pumped the trigger slowly, taking the numbers higher until they reached ten dollars and no cents.

  The bells on top of the shop's door jingled, and Hank looked up just in time to see a man walk past him toward the Taurus.

  Hank stopped.

  His synapses, clogged with alcohol, struggled to fire. The man seemed familiar but Hank couldn't place him. He turned and got one more quick look as the man ducked into the Taurus, started it up and drove off. Hank felt his heartbeat increase.

  Something was happening here. He walked briskly inside the shop and paid the attendant. On the way out he stopped in his tracks as the realization hit him harder than any fist ever had.

  He lumbered toward the Bronco.

  Chapter 48

  Mike rolled down Highway 2 going east. He had passed by the turn-off that led into downtown Rodgers Bay as he would bring Laurie into town tomorrow to give her a little tour.

  He raised up in his seat and used the rearview mirror to check on his sleeping passenger.

  She had stirred a bit at the gas station but now he could hear her soft snores. He always teased her about her snoring, exaggerating wildly on the volume she created, but he thought it was one of the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard.

  Mike absently touched the jewelry box still snuggled in his front pocket.

  Suddenly, the glare of headlights startled Mike and caused him to squint.

  Jesus, he thought to himself, where did this guy come from?

  He checked his speedometer. He was doing sixty, five miles an hour over the speed limit and he was on a straight stretch of road. If this nut was in such a hurry, he reasoned, why didn't he just pass?

  Mike considered speeding up but then did the opposite and took his foot completely off the accelerator. He could see the bumper and the grille of the vehicle behind him with frightening clarity. It looked like a truck.

  This guy was way too close.

  Suddenly, the Taurus lurched forward, bumped by the bigger vehicle from behind.

  Laurie stirred and began to sit up.

  "Jesus Christ!" Mike shouted.

  The truck behind him slammed into the Taurus again with horrific force.

  Laurie was thrown forward and her head whiplashed against the metal camera case lodged in the foot space behind the car's passenger seat.

  Mike risked a glance and saw she was slumped forward on the seat.

  And then he was thrown forward again. The steering wheel hit him directly in the stomach and chest briefly knocking the wind from him.

  Instinctively, he tromped the accelerator to the floor and the Taurus shot ahead. Mike's mind struggled to make sense of the situation. Everything had been going fine. The town was deserted, he filled up the-

  The gas station.

  The big guy and the truck.

  Oh no.

  The trees along the highway were now a blur. Mike checked the speedometer and saw that he was creeping up toward a hundred.

  The guy behind him was catching up.

  It was all a mistake, Mike thought to himself.

  The redneck must have me confused with someone else.

  Mike gripped the steering wheel, fighting panic. His knuckles were turning white and his stomach churned.

  Chapter 49

  Hank Campbell felt the blood lust. This was like just before squeezing the trigger or letting an arrow fly toward a buck on the first day of deer season.

  What a stroke of luck! Hank grinned crookedly in the darkness of the Bronco's cab. He was going to be a hero! Maybe they'd even put him on television!

  Hank's meaty paw snatched the mouthpiece from the small CB unit bolted to the underside of the Bronco's giant dashboard and turned the dial to the emergency channel.

  He clicked the small transmitting button with his thumb.

  "This is Hank Campbell, I'm in pur, pur..." his mind struggled for the right word, "...I'm chasing the guy on Nation’s Most Wanted!"

  Hank's voice was booming in its excitement.

  "He's trying to get away! I'm gonna shoot his tires out!"

  He considered what else to say.

  "We're west of town, on Highway 2."

  No one answered so he asked a question more to himself than to anyone who might be listening.

  "Should I try to kill him?"

  Chapter 50

  Mike pounded the steering wheel.

  The show. The re-enactment. The killer supposedly somewhere in the area!

  Shit!

  The thought had occurred to Mike. He'd even joked about it with Laurie. The possibility that someone would confuse him with the real killer, since the reason he got the part was because of his close physical resemblance to the actual killer, but it had seemed so ridiculous!

  Now it was really happening!

  He took out his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

  No service.

  “Shit!” he yelled at no one in particular.

  Mike put the brakes on the Taurus. Why was he running away from this guy? All he would have to do is tell this stupid bastard that he was the actor who portrayed the killer on the show, not the actual killer.

  He had to get Laurie to a doctor and fast. As he slowed, he looked into the back seat and saw blood on her forehead. She was probably unconscious.

  Jesus, this was a nightmare.

  He pulled the car over and his fear began turning to anger. This nutjob almost killed the both of them! All because he was too goddamned stupid to realize the difference between television and reality.

  Gravel crunched under the Taurus' tires as Mike guided the car to a complete stop on the shoulder of the road.

  The Bronco mirrored the car's movements and stopped some twenty feet behind.

  Mike flung the car door open and sprang out. He had to clear this up and clear it up fast so he could get Laurie to a hospital, or at least get back in a service area for his cell.

  He took a step toward the Bronco.

  Chapter 51

  Hank Campbell opened his door, placed his big left foot on the ground and brought the rifle to his shoulder. The barrel dropped slowly into the gap between the now open door and the frame of the Bronco's cab.

  Now, as he watched the killer come closer, Hank steadied himself and let out a small breath. He began to squeeze the trigger. Just as he was about to send a round hurtling into the killer's chest, a small pebble shifted under the weight of the big man. He fired but knew the slip had caused him to shoot high.

  Hank saw the killer dove back into the car.

  He swung the rifle and aimed it into the back window then stopped himself.

  There was a woman back the
re. He didn't want to shoot her.

  The CB crackled on the dashboard.

  Without taking his eyes off the car in front of him, he reached for the handset.

  Chapter 52

  Mike felt the blood trickle down his chest, and he thought fast.

  I’ve been shot.

  He resisted the urge to giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation. Instead, he decided to yell at the top of his lungs.

  "You've got the wrong guy!" he shouted, instantly realizing it was the wrong thing to say.

  The sideview mirror exploded and sent a cloud of glass and chrome crashing to the pavement.

  "I'm an actor, you idiot!" he yelled again. This time the back window crashed inward, showering Laurie in glass as the bullet made its way through the windshield.

  Clearly, this psycho wasn't listening. Nor was he concerned with shooting an innocent bystander.

  He had to get this guy away from Laurie. The stupid bastard must have seen Laurie in the back seat at the gas station and thought she was the killer's next victim.

  If Mike could get away from the car the guy would follow and leave Laurie alone.

  Mike poked his head between the driver and passenger seat. He saw the cut on Laurie's forehead covered with dark red blood. It looked like she had stopped bleeding.

  He reached beneath him and the movement sent searing pain across the top of his shoulder. He grabbed a wad of napkins left over from a stop at a fast food restaurant and pressed them against Laurie’s forehead.

  He picked up the few napkins that were still left and he jammed them between his shirt and the wound on his shoulder.

  He would have to do this quickly and offer as little a target as possible to the idiot with the gun.

  Mike turned back to Laurie who still hadn't moved. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but there wasn't time and she wouldn't hear him anyway.