He whispered, “She’s not dead.”
“You killed her, Bud.”
“No, no, no, no . . .”
“She loved you, and you shot her . . .”
“An accident. I tried to help her.”
I held out my hand.
“Give me the gun, Bud.”
For the briefest instant I thought he would, but then his eyebrows creased in anger.
“NO! You’re a harlot! A liar! A devil! You controlled that cat, made her attack my Lorna!”
“Did I make you pull the trigger, Bud? You’re the one that pulled the trigger.” I stared at him, hard. “You’ve sinned, Bud.”
Bud’s face lost color, and though he was looking at me, his eyes seemed to be focused on something else, something beyond me.
“I’ve . . . sinned.”
“You’re a sinner, Bud. And you must atone for your sins. Give me the gun.”
“I . . . need punishment.”
“Yes you do, Bud. I’m a police officer. I can punish you.”
“Punish me?”
“Thou shalt not kill, Bud. You’ve committed a terrible sin. But we can make it right. Let me have the gun.”
“I can make it right.”
Bud turned, facing the stove. I glanced around for Lorna’s gun, but couldn’t find where it had skidded off to.
“O my God,” Bud began his contrition. “I am heartily sorry for having offended You, and I detest all my sins . . .”
“Bud, don’t—”
I crawled backward like a crab, inching my way out of the kitchen, not wanting to watch but unable to turn away as Bud Kork plunged his hand into a boiling pot of hot oil.
His scream was inhuman.
I flipped onto my front and was using the doorway to get to my feet, just in time to see Latham walk through my front door, Holly at his side.
CHAPTER 47
ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, I was getting real sick of the Kork family.
Holly pressed her gun, the Wolverine, tight under Latham’s jaw, hard enough to force his chin up. She wore jeans, a sweatshirt, and heavy construction boots—the same boots she’d worn while shooting at me in Diane Kork’s burning house.
“Hello, Jack.” Her smile was dazzling, without a hint of the sickness that it hid. “Look who I found running down the hallway, pounding on people’s doors. He even asked me for help. Isn’t that ironic?”
Holly closed the front door using her foot. Behind me, Bud whimpered like a kicked dog.
“This is Latham, right? You described him to me in the car. You were right. He’s adorable.”
Latham’s eyes, so full of hope and promise a minute ago, had gone back to being blank and dead.
“Handcuffs,” Holly said.
“In the bedroom.”
“Let’s go get them.”
Holly kept her free hand on Latham’s arm, and the three of us walked into the kitchen.
When Holly saw the mess, she began to laugh.
“Looks like I missed the party.”
She gave Lorna a contemptuous kick, then turned her attention to Bud, who was curled up on the floor in a fetal position, shivering and cradling his burned hand. It was lobster red, pocked with blisters, puffed out to about twice the normal size.
“Hello, Father.”
“Alex . . . my baby . . .”
Again I scanned the floor. Both Bud’s gun and Lorna’s gun were around here someplace.
I spotted his Glock, on the floor next to the stove. Holly spotted it too. She pulled Latham over, moved the Wolverine from his chin to his belly, and did a quick bunny-dip, scooping up Bud’s gun with her free hand. She pointed that gun at me.
“Want to see how good I am left-handed?”
“Not really.”
“Then head for the bedroom.”
My handcuffs were on the nightstand, next to the bed. Holly spent a moment standing in the doorway, taking everything in.
“That’s the closet my brother hid in?”
“Yeah.”
She stared at it, almost reverentially, then ordered me to cuff Latham’s hands behind his back and step away.
“I’m sorry,” I told him.
His lips were a tight, thin line. “I’m getting used to it.”
“That’s right.” Holly nudged Latham. “You were alone with my brother for a while.”
Latham raised an eyebrow. “Your brother?”
“This is the Gingerbread Man’s sister,” I said. “The guy in the kitchen is her father.”
Latham stared at Holly. “You folks are in some serious need of family counseling.”
Holly’s lips formed a pout.
“Are you saying you didn’t like my brother?”
“He kept drooling on himself and trying to grab my ass.”
Holly apparently didn’t think that was funny, and cracked Latham on the back of the head with the butt of her Wolverine. He fell to his knees.
I sprung forward to help him, and got the Glock shoved in my face.
“Stay cool, Jack. We’re just getting started.”
Though I put on a brave front, staring down the barrel of a gun scared the crap out of me. It hadn’t happened that many times in my career, but each time it did, the feeling was the same.
I felt a hot spot, like a laser beam, where the gun was aimed. I knew what guns could do. The damage they caused. The death they brought. Staring at something so deadly made my heart race and my throat constrict and my palms sweat and my knees turn to mush.
All she needed to do was exert a few pounds of pressure on that trigger, and I no longer existed.
It was kind of like the feeling you get after narrowly avoiding a car accident. That sick, hollow feeling of dread, knowing what might have happened.
Except with a gun, what might have happened might still happen.
“Where’s Harry and Phin?” I managed to say.
“Funny you should ask. That’s where we’re going. I have a whole week of festivities planned.”
“They’re still alive?”
Holly smiled her seductive smile.
“Jack, look how cute you are, all full of hope. Yes, they’re still alive. I plan on keeping all of you alive for as long as possible. As you can imagine, I put a lot of work into this whole production. I want to enjoy the fruits of my labors.”
I eyed the Jewel bag, containing the Kork videotapes and files, sitting next to my TV.
It also contained Kork’s hunting knife, which I’d checked out of evidence.
Holly caught my furtive glance.
“Something interesting in the bag, Jack? Let’s see.”
She turned both guns on me and walked over to the bag.
“Videos. Are these the ones Charles and I made?”
I nodded.
“Did you watch them?”
“Yeah.”
“Did they make you hot?”
“They made me sick.”
“That’s because you’re limited, Jack. You don’t allow yourself to see the big picture. Power is a turn-on. Having control over someone’s suffering, over someone’s life and death, is like the best gift in the world. After making one of these videos, Charles and I would have the most mind-blowing sex.”
Yuck. Yuck yuck yuck. Having sex after murdering people was bad enough, but sex with your brother?
“That’s even more disgusting than having sex with McGlade.”
“There you go, Jack. Getting all judgmental. You’ve met Father. Can you imagine what growing up in that house was like? The abuse that Charles and I had to endure? All we had was each other. It was the purest kind of love in the world.”
Holly got dreamy-eyed.
“What about Caleb?” I said. “You grew up with him too.”
Her face became hard.
“Caleb was trash. He had it coming. For the longest time it was just me and Charles. Then Caleb came into the picture. Charles treated Caleb like a brother. Where did that leave me?”
“And
Steve Jensen?”
“Caleb was easy to manipulate. Jensen wasn’t. He had to go. You were right, when we were in the morgue. Two people killed Jensen. Me and Caleb. Then I killed Caleb, and I’m going to do the same thing to you, and to everyone who ever hurt Charles. I’m his avenger.”
I didn’t want to play psychoanalyze the psycho, so I changed the subject.
“Those videos should be burned.”
“Grab the bag. Then go back into the kitchen.”
She kicked Latham, who was kneeling with his face on the bed. The back of his head was matted with blood.
“Move your ass, loverboy, or I’ll kill you here.”
Latham managed to get to his feet, and he was the first to stagger out of the room. I went second, the Wolverine pressed to my back.
Bud was still curled up on the linoleum, shaking so badly I could feel the vibrations through the floor.
“How do you feel, Father?”
“Hurts . . . hurts bad.”
“But pain is good, right, Father? Pain is cleansing. Isn’t that what you taught us?”
“Washes . . . washes away sin.”
She moved one gun off me, onto him.
“And you’ve got a lot of sin to wash away, don’t you, Father?”
“Lots of sin . . . lots . . .”
Holly pulled the trigger, shooting her father in the side. Both Latham and I jumped at the sound. Bud’s eyes snapped open and he let out a low, agonizing moan.
“Gut shot. Supposed to hurt really bad. Does it hurt, Father?”
“Yes . . .”
Holly looked at me and stuck the Glock in the front of her jeans.
“It’s not really his fault. You should hear the stories about what my grandparents did to him. But that’s not an excuse. Some people just shouldn’t be allowed to have children.”
She turned back to her father. I knew what was coming and couldn’t watch. I squeezed my eyes closed.
“The Lord may forgive you, Father. But I don’t.”
I heard the sizzle, and then the piercing scream as Holly dumped the pot of oil onto her father’s head.
The scream was blessedly short. I opened my eyes. The ruin on the floor that was once Bud had passed out.
“Grab your boyfriend, Jack. It’s time for us to go.”
I held Latham by the elbow. His gait was wobbly, and I was limping, but I managed to get him out the kitchen.
“Where’s your car?”
“On the street in front.”
“Okay, let’s . . .”
Holly paused, staring down at Mr. Friskers’s catnip mouse toy. She smiled.
“I didn’t know you had a cat, Jack. I just adore cats.”
I bet she adored cats. In the same way she adored human beings.
“What’s its name?”
“Mr. Friskers.”
Holly frowned. “What a shitty name. Why’d you name him that?”
“That was his name when I got him.”
“Call him.”
I considered what Holly would do if I said no.
“Mr. Friskers! Come here!”
As expected, Mr. Friskers didn’t come here.
“What makes him come?”
“Nothing. The cat doesn’t like me.”
“So why do you have it?”
“It’s my mother’s.”
“Your mom is a vegetable, right? Get rid of the damn thing. I’ll even help you. Here kitty, kitty, kitty . . .”
Holly made kissy sounds.
I willed the cat to stay put. The gunfire had probably scared him to death, and he was probably hiding under the couch, or the bed.
“Here he comes. That’s a good kitty.”
Mr. Friskers trotted right up to Holly’s feet. I felt something die in my heart. Nasty as that cat was, I’d gotten used to the damn thing.
“Wow.” Holly reached a hand down to him. “You’re an ugly one, aren’t you?”
Mr. Friskers gave her a vicious swat across the back of her hand and bounded away.
I didn’t try to hide my grin. “I think you hurt his feelings.”
Holly lifted her hand, noticing the blood. She licked it away, then raised the gun to my head.
“Find the cat, Jack. He’s coming with us.”
Rather than argue, I dropped the bag, hobbled over to the sofa, got down on all fours, and peered underneath it.
“Is he there?”
“Nothing but a family of dust bunnies and a peanut M&M.”
“Move it, or I’ll turn your boyfriend into a girlfriend.”
She pointed the gun at Latham’s crotch, a move that made him noticeably uncomfortable.
I crawled over to the dining room table, and I spotted it.
The .45 Lorna dropped when Bud shot her.
I didn’t bother to question how it got eight feet out of the kitchen. Instead, I scrambled for it as fast as I could.
“There he is!” I pointed, stretching out, reaching for the gun, wrapping my hand around the butt and bringing it around to Holly, thumbing off the safety, aiming at her head and squeezing the trigger.
Click.
Empty. Stupid Lorna had run out of bullets.
Which was why I freaking hated automatics.
This delighted Holly.
“Jack, I wish you could have seen your face when you fired and nothing happened. It was priceless. You would have killed me too. Damn, that was fast. I didn’t even have time to bring my gun up.”
I blew out a deep breath and came very close to crying.
“Maybe you can load it with that M&M you found.”
I clenched my teeth, determined not to let her see me break down. And then my cat, my mean, stupid, annoying as hell cat, came out from behind the easy chair and touched his head to my hand, demanding to be petted.
I held him close.
“Do you have a cat carrier?”
“Closet. On your left.”
Holly went to the closet, took out the small cage, and
tossed it to the floor.
“Pack him up. It’s time to go.”
The next few minutes were a blur. I crated Mr. Friskers and the four of us left my apartment, went down the stairs, and climbed into my car. Holly and Latham in the back, me and the cat in the front. I drove.
“Get on the expressway, head for Elk Grove. Anything funny and I kill Latham, then you. You remember how good a shot I am.”
“I remember you missed me at Diane Kork’s house.”
“Missed you? I nicked your ear. That’s what I was aiming at. I didn’t want to kill you, Jack.”
“Why not? You could have killed me a dozen times already. Why haven’t you? Why go through all of this?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there.”
I didn’t think I wanted to know the answer.
CHAPTER 48
PHIN IS LIGHT-HEADED. He figures he’s lost at least two pints of blood, probably more. Even a slight movement in his wrists sends ripples of agony up his arms.
But the wire is bending. He can feel it.
“How you doing, Harry Harry?”
“I’m ecstatic. After all, it’s my wedding day.”
“Don’t feel bad. All marriages start out a little rocky.”
Harry snorts. “When I asked for her hand in marriage, I didn’t expect her to cut mine off.”
Phin grimaces, the wire grinding against exposed tendons. But he’s got almost a full inch of play now. Just a little bit more and he’ll be able to get his hand free.
“What was I thinking, Phin? That a woman like Holly would marry me. She’s beautiful, smart, sexy . . .”
“A lunatic.”
“We all have our little faults. You know what the sad part is? I didn’t even see it coming. I was all caught up in myself, and I never stopped and questioned what was going on.”
“It happens, McGlade. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“I had no clue. Not one. We talked. We laughed. Even the sex was good. I m
ean, I’m no porn star, but what I lack in size I make up for in speed.”
Phin offers a weak chuckle. He pulls hard, trying to slide his right hand out of the wire. His wrist is slick with blood, and he’s got his binding almost up to his thumb.
“But it seemed genuine. For that thirty seconds, she really seemed to be enjoying herself.”
“You lasted thirty seconds? What are you, Superman?”
Harry laughs, but it comes out forced. “Okay, maybe I was inflating the numbers a little bit to impress you. But that’s not the point. The point is, I was so wrapped up in myself, I had no idea I was marrying a crazy woman who wanted to kill me.”
Phin grunts in pain. He’s almost there. “Self-delusion is a powerful thing, Harry.”
“Except my self-delusion killed us both.”
“Try to stay positive.”
“I am positive. I’m positive we’re both going to die.”
“We’re not dead yet. And I think I’ve got something to make you feel a little better.”
“Nothing can make me feel better. Except maybe killing that damn rat who ate all of my damn fingers.”
“This will.”
Phin yells, tugging as hard as he can, and his battered wrist pops out of the wire.
He’s free.
Phin brings his hands around and looks at his wrists.
Ugly. Most suicides looked better.
“Phin? Are you okay?”
Phin tugs off his tie, wraps it around his right wrist, and ties a knot using his teeth.
“I got my hands free. I’m working on my legs.”
He takes off his shirt next, winding it around his left wrist, trying to stop the blood. Then he digs into his cowboy boot, and pulls out the Kabar folding knife he keeps strapped to his calf. It’s a seriously tough piece of hardware, with a three-inch serrated steel blade that can cut through a car door.
Phin slips the blade between the wire and his ankle and twists. The heavy gauge wire breaks with a ping sound.
“Phin? How you doing, man? Let me tell you, if you get us out of here, you’ll be my best friend in the whole world.”
Phin switches legs, prying at the wire. “That’s okay, Harry. I’ll help you anyway.”
The second wire snaps free, and Phin gets to his feet. He’s dizzy, but exhilarated. He turns around, looks at Harry.
The poor guy’s hand looks like a well-done filet mignon.
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