by Mark Lukens
He said he needed to get the rest of the ingredients for the ritual out of his truck. She hadn’t seen his truck – it must be parked behind the house or out in the brush somewhere. His pickup truck had been parked in front of his apartment when they were there earlier, but he must’ve circled back and got it while they were on the wild goose chase looking for the Reverend who was most likely already dead by then.
The ingredients for his ritual: virgin blood mixed with the ashes of a beloved dead person. She didn’t know where he’d gotten the ashes from, but she was sure the blood had been emptied from Jen’s body. And the other things he’d taken: Greg’s skin, and other things from past murders, the body parts sewn into his ceremonial mask.
But first Jeremy was going to get Woods’ body and string him up on the other side of the door and use him as another “witness.”
Oh God, she’d been wrong about Woods. She’d hit him with the shovel so hard he was probably dead, or at least still unconscious and helpless. Jeremy would go back to the first bedroom and get the gun and then he would go outside and put a bullet in Woods’ brain as he lay there unconscious. Or he might not even use the gun, not wanting to alert any neighbors with the sound; he might just beat Woods’ head to a bloody pulp with the shovel, finish the job she had started. Or use the shovel’s blade to chop Woods’ head off.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to think about that, but she couldn’t help it. She had caused all of this. She had played right into Jeremy’s trap the whole time.
But Lorie had told her that Agent David Woods was dead. He’d been murdered.
Lorie wouldn’t lie or make something up. It didn’t make sense.
So who was Woods?
It didn’t matter now. Once Jeremy finished Woods off, he would be back in here to begin this insane ritual of his. What was he going to do to her? There was nothing off-limits for him. She’d seen the terrible things in her dreams that he’d done: the drained blood, the skin peeled away from flesh, the body parts mutilated and hacked off.
Her breathing was getting quicker and quicker, a panic attack coming on. She wished she could hyperventilate and pass out. She didn’t want to die; she didn’t want to suffer hours or even days of torture in this abandoned house.
She heard a sound from down the hallway. It sounded like two men talking in hushed tones, like they didn’t want to be overheard. One of the men was Jeremy, she was sure of that. The other one had to be Woods. They didn’t sound like they were arguing or fighting.
Woods was awake and inside the house!
But why wasn’t Woods attacking Jeremy? Why wasn’t he killing Jeremy and trying to get to her? Was he a part of this somehow? The thought turned her stomach even more.
No, her mind screamed as the obvious answer came to her from the fog of her drowsy mind.
Woods doesn’t know that Steve is the killer!
She lifted her head up and screamed as loudly as she could, but her panic attack had driven the breath from her body and all that came out was a wheeze.
Come on, she told herself. Fight it! This is your last chance, your last hope.
She swallowed a lungful of air, and then she screamed as loudly as she ever had in her life.
“Woods!! Steve is the killer!! STEVE IS JEREMY!!”
3.
As soon as Tara screamed from the other bedroom, Jeremy attacked.
Woods thought he may have heard the swing of the punch whistling through the air a split second before he was hit. And then he felt the blast of pain on the side of his face, the same side of his face that Tara had hit him with the shovel. He was rocked back, but he didn’t fall to the floor, and he didn’t drop his gun.
Why was Steve attacking him?
Woods heard Tara screaming from somewhere deeper in the house.
“Steve is the killer! Steve is Jeremey!!”
He tried to make sense of these thoughts through his pain-filled mind. But Steve had been tied to a chair. He’d seen it in the photograph. Steve had been taken from his apartment. He’d seen the dishes on the counter, the scrambled eggs on the floor.
But he didn’t have time to figure this out. Right now Steve was trying to kill him. He had to believe Tara’s words.
Tara kept on screaming, repeating the same words, and at least that meant she was still alive.
That meant he still had a chance to save her and to kill Jeremy.
Woods backed up and he felt a kick that just grazed the gun in his hand, almost knocking it loose, and then the kick pounded his ribs. He didn’t really see it; he couldn’t see anything except blurry dark shapes through his watering eyes.
He staggered back from the kick and his back bumped into a wall. He raised his gun and squeezed the trigger, shooting twice, hoping he was hitting the son of a bitch. The gunshots sounded so loud in the small room.
He opened his eyes as wide as he could and he saw a dark and blurry shape bolting away.
Steve was running.
Had he shot him?
Woods didn’t hesitate, he ran after him, out across the hall and into the next room. He shot three more times into the dark room. His whole field of vision was dark right now, but he could make out a blurry rectangle at the other end of the room – the window that Steve was crawling out of.
One more shot – a deafening noise.
Woods ran through the darkness towards the moonlit window and nearly fell face-first to the floor after tripping over some piece of furniture in the middle of the floor. He got to the open window and couldn’t see anything in the darkness.
A moment later he heard a vehicle start up. It sounded powerful, and then it was driving past the house – but it was on the other side of the house.
Woods couldn’t make it to the other room in time to get off a shot.
He ran back out to the living room, to the front door which was still wide open. He stood in the doorway; his arms raised, the gun in his hand, his watering eyes trying to fix on the blurry shape speeding towards the chain link gate in the distance. All he could really see in his watery vision were two bright, blurry red blobs that were the tail lights of the truck.
He almost squeezed the trigger – but the truck was too far away. He heard the truck crash through the gates and then fishtail out onto the dirt road. And then it was gone.
Woods lowered his gun and let out a long breath. The side of his head was throbbing now and even though the stinging in his eyes had subsided a little, it still hurt like hell.
A wave of dizziness washed over him for a moment, and he had to lean against the door frame to keep from falling over.
Just keep it together, he told himself. Need to find Tara.
4.
Tara struggled against the ropes. She lifted her head up and stared at the doorway that led out to the hall, trying not to look at the dead man hanging upside down beside it. She could imagine the Reverend sitting up suddenly, his eyes popping open and staring at her.
She hadn’t heard anything in the house for the last few minutes. She’d heard the fighting, the gunshots, and then a vehicle speeding away.
And now it was dead silent in the house.
Finally, she heard footsteps coming down the hall, approaching the room. The footfalls were heavy, and they almost sounded like they were dragging a bit.
It was Woods. It had to be. He had to have been the one shooting. Right? Or maybe Steve got a hold of the gun and he had done the shooting. Maybe Woods had run for his vehicle. Maybe he had gone for help.
“Woods?”
No answer. But the footsteps were getting closer to the doorway.
And then Woods stood in the doorway for a moment like he was waiting for a wave of light-headedness and nausea to pass before he could take another step.
Then another terrible thought occurred to Tara. What if Woods passed out? What if he walked a few more steps and then passed out on the floor? What if he was hemorrhaging in his brain right now? What if he died a few steps away from this table
before he could free her?
And then what if Jeremy came back?
What if Jeremy could see all of this through her eyes?
If Woods passed out or died, Jeremy would see it. He would come back.
A new explosion of panic erupted inside of Tara, but she forced herself to remain calm.
“Woods, are you okay?”
Woods didn’t answer. After a few attempts, he managed to slide his gun into the shoulder holster inside his suit coat and then he stumbled over to the table like he was drunk.
“You have to untie me before he comes back,” Tara said.
“You hit me,” he grumbled as he stood beside the table.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were the killer. I thought you were Jeremy.”
Woods’ eyes were shut, and they looked a little swollen. He felt along the table and his hands touched her wrist and the rope around it.
“Can you see?” she asked and felt a twinge of guilt about the pepper spray she’d blinded him with.
“Not really,” he answered as he fumbled with the rope around her wrist.
Great! The one person I need to rescue me is nearly blind and close to passing out.
“You have to hurry, Woods. Please.”
Woods nodded and he fiddled with the knot on the rope some more. She thought of asking him if he had something to cut the ropes with, but then the thought of him using a knife with his blurry eyesight might not be a good idea.
And then she felt the rope loosen around her wrist.
She pulled her hand away as the rope fell. It felt so good to be able to move her arm again.
“My legs,” she told him as she stretched her arm and torso as much as she could to reach her other wrist, but her bound legs were preventing her from stretching far enough.
Woods moved more quickly now. He untied her right ankle and she felt like her body was a spring that had been loosened. She was almost free now. She could reach her other wrist more easily and she plucked at the knot with her fingers which were a little numb from the ropes, her fingertips buzzing with pain as the blood circulated back into them.
But she fought through the pain and numbness – panic taking over. She managed to untie the knot and work her other hand out of the tiny noose.
She sat up just as Woods untied her other ankle.
She hopped off the table and down to the floor a little too quickly. She had to stand still for a moment, leaning against the table and biting back a scream as the pins and needles stabbed at her feet and ankles from lack of circulation.
“You okay?” Woods asked from the darkness.
Tara nodded. “Yeah.”
“Who’s that?” Woods nodded at the Reverend.
“He’s the Reverend, the one we were looking for earlier. The one who wore the wooden cross.”
“I need to get out of here,” Woods said, and he was already heading for the door, rushing past the upside-down Reverend. “I need to get back outside.”
5.
Tara followed Woods out of the house, and then she followed him through the half acre of brush towards the chain link fence. She stopped him after they had crawled through the hole in the fence.
“I want to tell you why I hit you,” Tara said, halting him with a hand on his arm before he started walking to his car.
He turned and looked at her, swaying just a bit on his feet.
“Lorie called me. That’s who I was on the phone with when you came back to the car. She said you weren’t Agent Woods. She had her uncle, he’s a detective, look up the name. She told me that Agent David Woods was dead. He was murdered a year ago in Pennsylvania.”
Woods knuckled at his eyes again.
“Agent David Woods was my brother,” he told her. “Jeremy killed him. There was never any proof that Jeremy did it, but I knew. And I’ve been tracking him ever since.”
Woods stared at Tara and wiped at his eyes again, trying to focus his eyes on her. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I had to. I needed your help. You never would’ve helped me if I hadn’t lied to you.”
“You knew about Jeremy?” Tara asked.
Woods sighed like he had some bad news for her. “After my brother was killed, I began to work the case myself. Once Jeremy had an alibi, it was like the FBI didn’t care anymore. But I couldn’t give up. It was all I could think about. I tried to find Jeremy. I used every favor I had with my brother’s co-workers to get as much information about him as I could.”
Tara just listened. She remembered asking Woods to look up information about Jeremy earlier in the day. But he had lied to her. He’d kept the knowledge of Jeremy to himself.
Woods just stared at her with blood staining the side of his face and his eyes watering like he was crying.
“You believed Jeremy was the killer,” Tara said. “And you tracked him. But you were always a step behind. But you must’ve found out he tried to kill me when I was a baby. And you figured he would find me again, try again to finish the job.”
Woods only nodded.
“So you came down her and waited, and used me like bait.” Tara could feel her anger rising again.
“No, not bait,” Woods answered quickly. “I still had a friend of my brother’s in the FBI, the only person who would still help me. He dug into your past and he found reports with the Tampa Police Department, reports about you trying to help them with your psychic powers. I went back over the other murder cases again and again, digging into their pasts and I saw the connections. Jeremy was going after psychically sensitive people because he could read them like a roadmap, he could tell everything they were going to do, he could always be one step ahead of them the whole time. And then he could take the things he wanted from his victims for …” Woods gestured at the shack, “…whatever it is he’s doing here.”
Tara didn’t say anything for a moment.
“I just need to find him,” Woods said. “He murdered my brother and I just wanted to find him. No one would help me.”
“Jeremy believes that every person he kills makes him stronger,” Tara said. “He thinks he absorbs their power or life-force, or whatever.”
“I never doubted your psychic abilities,” Woods said and took a step closer to Tara. “I believed in you. And I thought you might be able to tell when your half-brother was near. I wanted to be there before he got to you, to protect you.”
“But your main goal was to wait until he found me. Let me lead him like I was some kind of beacon. And then what?”
Woods didn’t answer.
“Obviously you weren’t going to arrest him. You’re not even a cop. You were going to kill him, weren’t you?”
Woods nodded. “He’ll never be caught. The police can’t even get close to him. And even if they did catch him, then he’d probably strike an insanity deal.” Woods was silent for a moment, breathing heavy. “Yes, it’s true. I want revenge. I want to kill him for what he did to my brother.”
And my parents, Tara thought. She’d felt Woods’ same rage only hours earlier.
“You’ve seen him now, Tara. You can lock on to him now. You’re the only chance of ever catching him.”
Tara didn’t answer.
Woods walked to his car and put his hands down on the hood, leaning over it for a moment, like he needed something to support his body, like he might throw up at any moment. “I understand if you hate me,” he said without looking at her. “I understand if you don’t want to help me. If you want to turn me in to the police.”
Tara glanced around at the darkness all around them. She listened to the silent night, expecting to hear sirens in the distance soon. The police would be here – someone nearby had to have heard the gunshots. But then again, maybe gunshots were a normal sound out here in the boonies.
She walked over to Woods and held her hand out to him. “Give me your car keys.”
Woods looked at her with his watery, red-rimmed eyes. “Why?”
“Because you can’t drive in your condition.”
He dug his keys out of his pocket and handed them to her.
“You’re right,” she told him. “The police will never be able to get Jeremy.”
“Thank you, Tara.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
1.
Tara drove to a cheap motel off of Highway 60, still well outside of the city limits of Tampa. They had stopped at a Dollar General store on the way and Woods waited in the car while Tara bought a T-shirt, sweat pants, and hoodie sweatshirt for him. She also bought a bottle of the strongest painkillers they had, alcohol, bandages and tape, a twelve pack of beer and case of bottled water.
She checked into the motel room while Woods waited in the car. She was pretty sure a motel clerk might remember a bleeding man checking into the motel room so she wanted him out of sight right now.
They got a room on the first floor at the back side of the two story motel. She backed Woods’ car into a parking space a few doors down from their room; the motel was only about half full so there were plenty of available parking spaces. It was only about eight thirty and Tara wanted to call her aunt and make sure she was okay. She also wanted to call Lorie.
But she wanted to take care of Woods first.
Woods wanted to go after Jeremy right then, but he was in no shape to be doing anything at this moment. First he needed to get cleaned up and rest. And then they needed to make some kind of plan.
As soon as they got inside the motel room, Tara brought the bags of clothes and medical supplies inside and locked the door. She was worried Woods might be seriously injured and she suggested that he should see a doctor. Woods refused, but he at least let her shine a light into his eyes to see if he had a concussion. He seemed okay to her.
He told her he was going to take a shower.
In the shower, he let the hot water rinse the blood and dirt away. He winced as the scalding hot water pelted the wound at the side of his head, but he toughed it out. After his fifteen minute shower, he toweled off and dressed only in the pair of sweat pants that Tara had bought him at the dollar store. He remembered her going in and then it seemed like a second later she was back with a small shopping cart of supplies. She had told him not to go to sleep – she was afraid he might have a concussion – and he had tried his best not to, but he thought he might have dozed off for a little while.