Facing Evil

by C L Hart

  Passing the alley adjacent to the motel, Abby did a double take as she locked eyes with someone leaning up against a brick wall. “Son of a bitch, that’s him!” Abby hollered as Billy broke into a run. “Back it up...back it up!” She slapped the dash as she reached for the door handle.

  Lincoln slammed on the brakes, “Hang on.” He shoved the gearshift into reverse, squealing the tires as the car shot backward.

  Abby reached for the radio and advised the other detectives of their situation as the unmarked sedan bounced its way down the pothole-riddled alley. Billy was scampering from side to side and they were closing the gap on him when he disappeared through a gated walkway. The car screeched to a stop and Abby jumped out. “Take the front, take the front.” She gestured as she drew her weapon and charged through the gate. Lincoln took off down the alley, one hand on the wheel and the other on the radio.

  With her gun in the air, Abby made her way down the narrow passageway Billy had taken. She could hear his running footsteps, but she couldn’t see him in the litter clogged corridor. The two commercial buildings were barely shoulder width apart, and their towering height choked off what little light there was from above.

  “Stop. Police! Give it up, Billy!” she yelled, knowing full well he would never stop unless forced to. Moving with all the speed her caution would allow, Abby darted and dodged her way down the alley. She stopped when she heard the stutter of his steps and the sound of a rusty hinge. Moving forward silently, she spotted him just as he went through a door. Out of habit, she reached down to her waist for her radio, only to realize she hadn’t grabbed it out of the car. Everything she had ever been taught told her to wait for her partner, not to go on without backup, but she knew she had to. Sarah’s life depended on it. Looking at the metal door, and then down the empty passageway, Abby’s thoughts went back to one of her instructors at the academy. Never get emotionally involved in a case because your heart will take you places your brain would refuse to go.

  “Too late now.” She pushed against the door with her shoulder and went in low, her finger on the trigger. All she could hear was the sound of Billy’s footsteps climbing a metal staircase. Crouched down, with her back against the door, she leaned in and saw him running up the stairs. Her backup still hadn’t arrived and she realized it was up to her — follow Billy on her own, or let him get away again. Grabbing a piece of broken drywall, she marked a large “A” on the door and an arrow pointing up. She hoped it was enough for someone to follow as she headed up the stairs. Keeping as close to the walls as possible, she took the stairs two at a time. Her heart was beating loudly in her ears, but it didn’t drown out the gasping breath coming from the floors above her. Peering up though the spiral, she could see they were almost out of stairs.

  “Give it up, Billy. You’re out of breath and out of options.”

  “Shows how little...you know,” he said as he threw his small body against the door leading to the roof. The door gave way and the stairwell flooded in bright sunlight. Abby cursed under her breath. She had hoped he had run himself into a dead end.

  She reached the threshold and paused. Going through any door was always a high risk, but a roof door was the worst. The person on the other side had every advantage: they had the light at their back, the room to maneuver for an attack, and the ability to hide or run while their pursuer waited to come through.

  Double-checking her weapon, Abby took a deep breath before she launched herself at the door. Keeping low, she tucked and rolled against her shoulder, coming up on one knee on the gravel roof. She quickly scanned the area, weapon at the ready, until she spotted Billy jumping onto the next roof. Her height and long legs gave her the advantage, and she rapidly covered the ground between them. Billy looked over his shoulder only once before he jumped to the next roof. That was the last Abby saw of him as he disappeared from sight.

  Jumping onto the next roof, Abby realized it was the Webster Arms. The large roof was a series of peaks and valleys in the style of the rest of the motel. She should have been able to see Billy easily, but she couldn’t. There was no sign of him anywhere. The doorway from the roof hadn’t been out of her sight, so there was no way that he could have gone into the motel. Cautiously, she moved to the closest edge and peeked over the side.

  Nothing.

  Where the hell did he go? She moved carefully to peer over the other edge. Again there was no sign of him, but there was plenty of activity going on below. Police cars littered the parking lot as uniformed officers and detectives scurried back and forth. The sound of footsteps on the gravel roof drew her attention and she spun round with her gun drawn. Detectives Webber and Johnson were jumping onto the motel rooftop and coming toward her.

  “You okay, Stanfield?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where is he?” Detective Webber asked, his gun drawn and pointing to the sky.

  “I don’t know. He was right here...and then he was gone.” Abby clicked the safety on her weapon, but did not holster it as she and the other detectives scanned the roof.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “We’ll keep looking, but I don’t think we’ll find him,” Detective Webber said. “The motel is just too damned big.”

  Abby couldn’t believe she’d lost him, but she didn’t have the time to dwell on it as she quickly made her way over to the door leading into the Webster Arms — hoping and praying to find Sarah alive.

  ♥

  A dozen or so people congregating outside one of the rooms told her where she needed to go.

  “Sorry, Miss.” A uniformed officer held up his hand to stop her from continuing.

  “Detective,” she said quickly, reaching for the badge in her back pocket.

  “She’s okay, Paul,” a voice from the group spoke out as Abby pushed past them. “Come on, you guys, back up. Let’s section this off...”

  The commands continued, but Abby no longer heard them as she stopped in front of the white door. She quickly looked away when she saw smeared blood next to the door handle. It isn’t hers! It isn’t hers!

  She took one last breath, listened to one last heartbeat and whispered one last prayer, before she opened the door with the toe of her boot and walked in.

  “Sarah!” she called out into the dim light of the motel room. As her eyes adjusted, she could see evidence that someone had been living there. The large bed was made, but the cover was badly rumpled, there were papers spread out all over the small round table, and the kitchenette appeared stocked for use. Abby stepped into the room just as Lincoln emerged from the bathroom.

  Lincoln held up his empty, gloved hands. “She’s not here.”

  “Then where is she?” Abby looked around the room, taking in all she saw, with one thought on her mind. Sarah, where are you? Her heart ached.

  “I think she was here, and not that long ago, but she isn’t here now.”

  It was only then that Abby started to notice things in the room that she knew belonged to Sarah — her clothes in the doorless closet, her jacket on the back of one of the chairs at the table.

  “I heard we lost Ward on the roof.”

  “One minute he was right there and then...gone.” Abby glanced back at the blood smears on the door. She looked at Lincoln. “What about that?”

  “I’m not sure, it’s fresh. There’s more on the doorjamb next to the bathroom. Here.” He handed her a pair of latex gloves. Walking over to the bathroom, her eyes went immediately to the handprint on the wall. She stepped back to study the bloody print. It didn’t make sense to her. She opened her own hand and turned it upside down.

  Lincoln was talking to the manager outside on the covered deck that ran along the front of the motel, when he saw Abby moving around by the back wall. He came back into the room. “What’s the matter?” he asked his partner.

  Abby pointed to the bloody handprint. “This doesn’t make sense.”

  “Doesn’t make sense how?”

  “The handprint,” she knelt down and turned h
er hand around, “it’s upside down.”

  Lincoln tilted his head, trying to right the image in his mind. “How do you get a print upside down that low on the wall?”

  “Billy’s small but he’s not a midget. We need more light in here.” Rising to her feet, she walked over to the window and pulled back the heavy, thick curtain. When she turned around to face Lincoln, both detectives stopped in their tracks. The afternoon sun revealed what the shadows had been hiding. The wall next to the bed and closet was speckled with blood.

  It took all of Abby’s self control for her to remain positive and professional as she watched Lincoln move closer to the wall. Pulling out a small pocketknife, he took a sample of the blood with the tip of his blade. “It’s fresh, too.”

  Lincoln carefully picked up the phone. Abby was still studying the print on the wall, but turned as he passed her with the phone in his hand. “Abby.” Lincoln drew her attention to the handset.

  She bent down and looked closer at the dried blood and hair. Her mind replayed the last sounds of her phone conversation with Billy and Sarah, and the dull thud she had heard. Obviously, Billy had used the handset as a weapon. The image was unbearable, so she returned to the prints on the wall and floor. Tilting and turning her head, she finally came up with a scenario for the bloody print. “Lincoln.”

  The detective immediately came over as Abby knelt down with her back to the closet. Holding her right hand inches away from the print on the wall, she then placed her left hand just next to the stain on the carpet.

  “He had blood on his hands when he pushed himself to stand up.” She demonstrated.

  Lincoln watched as Abby turned around and looked in the closet behind her. With one massive shove, she moved all the clothes to one side of the closet, revealing a crude door cut into the drywall. Two clear bloody handprints showed where the door had been pushed back into place.

  “Sarah!” Abby called out. Lincoln scooped the clothes out of the way as Abby pried at the opening. “We’re coming, Sarah,” she breathed.

  “Webber, we need flashlights in here!” Lincoln called over his shoulder just as the door fell into Abby’s hands. “Let me go first.”

  “Forget it,” Abby said as she darted her head inside for a quick peek. “It’s some kind of passageway. I don’t know...it’s hard to see.” She called into the darkness, “Sarah!” Abby listened, but she heard nothing.

  “Just wait, Webber’s bringing flashlights.” At that moment the detective arrived with two large flashlights, one of which he gave to Abby.

  Pulling out her gun, she climbed slowly through the opening and into a narrow corridor, with Lincoln right behind her. Panning their lights over the area, they lit up the pipes and electrical lines that ran the height and length of the motel. Abby moved off to her right, while Lincoln moved slowly to his left. He had gone only two steps when he spotted peepholes that looked into the room they had just exited.

  “Looks like Billy had a hobby we didn’t know about.” Lincoln flashed his light on the wall to show Abby, and as he did he saw a light bulb with a string attached. “Here we go.” He pulled the string and the entire area filled with light.

  “Son of a bitch.” Lincoln’s words fell away. “Abby, you need to see this.” He directed her toward the wall and Abby’s jaw dropped. An entire section of the wall was covered in papers, news clippings, photos, and they were all of Abby. There were photos of her at work, playing with Buck, even a few of her with Sarah at the resort. There were articles, mostly new, but some old and faded, past cases that had brought Abby unwanted media attention.

  “Holy shit,” she said slowly as she glanced over the wall that chronicled most of her life.

  “This guy is really sick,” Lincoln said looked over the wall.

  “Yes, he is.” She looked at the picture of her graduation from the police academy. Abby was frozen in front of the pictures. Where the hell did he get all these? Then she spotted something that bothered her even more. Reaching up, she pulled a photo from the wall.

  “This thing goes on forever,” Lincoln hollered back over his shoulder as Abby heard a distinctive smack.

  “What was that?” she asked as she slid the black and white photo into her pocket.

  Lincoln stopped and faced her, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not sure.”

  Thud

  They froze and listened but the only sound they could hear was the noise of water in the pipes.

  “Sarah!” Abby called out as she again heard the distinctive sound of flesh hitting flesh, followed quickly by another thud. Abby knew she was close. “Lincoln...down here. Lincoln,” Abby called out as she pointed to the back wall. Coming in closer, he heard the noises coming from the other side. Panning their bright lights over the wall, Lincoln saw the hole before Abby did.

  “Here.” Moving toward another cut in the drywall, Lincoln turned to his partner, “Ready?” he mouthed silently.

  At his nod, the pair burst through the cut piece of drywall and scanned the room with their guns and their flashlights. A beam of light shone brightly on Billy Ward just as he turned and looked at them, his crystal blue eyes wild and wide. He was standing over Sarah, holding her limp form upright by a handful hair. He sneered at Abby as her flashlight beam caught the edge of a knife held firmly in his hand.

  “Too late,” Billy said. She could do nothing as she watched in horror as he slashed the knife downward at Sarah’s exposed throat. Abby screamed as Billy dropped Sarah to the ground and made a dash for the door on the other side of the room. Lincoln got through the hole first, with Abby pushing him from behind. Stumbling to his feet, he glanced down at Sarah’s bloodied body, but he couldn’t tell if she was alive or not.

  “Go...go!” Abby yelled at Lincoln as she scrambled over on her knees to Sarah’s side.

  Abby’s hand immediately went to the blood pulsing from her neck. “Sarah! Oh God...please, Sarah, stay with me...come on.” She leaned back and yelled, “I need help, somebody! Help me!”

  Lincoln grabbed his radio as he took off after Billy. “We need an ambulance now...around back, Webber, we are around the back side of the motel. Billy is heading toward...” Lincoln’s voice faded away in pursuit.

  “Sarah,” Abby pleaded, not realizing she was crying, her tears mixing with the blood on Sarah’s face. “I love you, Sarah. ... Please don’t die...please. Oh God!” Her hands shook as she tried to stop the steady flow of dark blood oozing from the gash in Sarah’s throat. Everything seemed to be covered with blood as Abby looked around the dark room. She pressed down hard on the wound and hoped for the best.

  “Someone help me!” she cried out as she held the motionless Sarah in her arms. “Help me! Johnson! Webber! Someone...anyone!” She knew she had to do something or Sarah was going to bleed to death. “Hang on, Sarah, please just hang on.” She attempted to wipe the blood from Sarah’s face with her free hand. It was then she saw the damage Billy had done with his fist. Her eyelids were puffy, her lips were split and swollen, and there were several deep lacerations to her chin and cheeks. It was more than Abby could handle.

  “I’m so sorry, Sarah. I should have warned you. I should have... Please, just hang on.” She closed her eyes and felt the faint beat of Sarah’s heart at her fingertips. “Just listen to my voice, Sarah, just listen to my voice,” she pleaded. “We’ll get through this, I promise.” She felt the warmth of the small body in her arms, but there were no other signs of life from Sarah’s still form.

  Abby looked up as she heard footsteps coming toward her. Lincoln pushed through the door, followed quickly by two emergency medical technicians and a number of other officers. “Is she alive?” he asked desperately, searching Abby’s face for the answer.

  “I don’t know. I think so,” Abby said quietly, as if she was afraid the frail existence in her hands would shatter if she spoke too loudly.

  The EMTs went to work. They radioed the hospital, informing them of their impending arrival and the patient’s need for emergency
surgery. They didn’t have to tell Abby that she was keeping Sarah alive by pressing her fingers on Sarah’s carotid artery; nevertheless, Abby was surprised when no one attempted to take over.

  “No, no, you stay right where you are,” the EMT said as he prepared to transfer Sarah onto the stretcher. “You did the right thing, but if you take your hand off now, it would all be for nothing.”

  Abby looked to Lincoln for guidance, “She’ll be fine, Abby. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  “What about Billy?”

  “We lost him, Abby. He seems to know this motel better than the manager who had forgotten these rooms were even here. Seems they closed them down a number of years ago and haven’t used them since.”

  “Well, Billy obviously has,” Abby said as they lifted Sarah gently onto the stretcher.

  “We’ll get him, Abby, we have him now. We have witnesses, we have evidence...more than enough to take him down.”

  She grimly looked down at Sarah. There wasn’t much Abby could recognize as they came out into the daylight. Sarah’s young innocent face had disappeared beneath the blood and swelling. “We have to find him first.” She leaned down and brushed back a few stray strands of red hair with her free hand. “And God help him when I do.”

  Chapter 17

  It was more than a few hours before Lincoln got away from the crime scene to make it to the hospital. He had called several times, but the only thing he could find out was that Sarah was in surgery. Making his way through the maze of hallways, Lincoln finally found the surgical waiting room, and his partner.

  Abby was all alone, sitting in an orange plastic chair, her elbows on her knees and her eyes directed, unfocused, to the floor. Her denim shirt and faded jeans were covered with blood, but she paid them no attention as she continuously rubbed her hands together, back and forth. It was hard to see her face behind her long hair. Lincoln had already seen that pain and he didn’t want to see it again.