Judgment

by Carey Baldwin

  That’s when Dizzy knew for sure: She didn’t want to die.

  She started to run.

  THE SUN HAD already set when Spense swung his Rodeo into the Casa Grande Corn Maze parking lot. A cruiser from the Pinal County Sherriff’s Office had arrived ahead of them, and two deputies waited outside their vehicle, leaning against it and talking with each other as if this were a church social. The men barely glanced up as he climbed out of his car. Frustrated, he slammed the door to his Rodeo. They needed more men out here, and they needed them now.

  Caity came around her side of the car, and they headed over to where the deputies were lounging. The thought had crossed his mind to have her wait in the car, but he’d quickly dismissed it. The last time she’d stayed behind, she’d been viciously attacked despite the ubiquitous presence of Phoenix’s Finest. So no way was he going to trust Caity’s life to these local boys. Pinal was a sleepy county, and its deputies likely didn’t see a lot of action. In fact, there was a real good chance neither one of these men had ever fired his ser­vice weapon in the line of duty. This haunted corn maze just might be the designated location for a killers’ summit, and he wasn’t letting Caity out of his sight.

  Looking over his shoulder at her, he asked, “You bring your heat?” He knew about that little Ruger she usually carried, and he hoped she hadn’t been lying when she’d claimed she was a decent shot at close range.

  She jerked a nod, a grim expression on her face.

  Okay, then that made at least two folks out of the four present who seemed to be taking this summit seriously. Of course, no one knew whether this was the actual location for the Labyrinth meeting, or if, at the end of the day, they’d all just be standing around with egg on their faces, waiting for psychopaths who never showed.

  Spense pulled his creds and flashed them to the one of the deputies. “I’m Special Agent Spenser, and this is Dr. Caitlin Cassidy. Have you gentlemen seen any unusual activity so far?”

  “I’m Bill Plummer. This is Sam Campbell. We just got here. And no, we haven’t seen a trace of nobody since we arrived. This place doesn’t even open until the week before Halloween, so we’re thinking this isn’t the right spot.”

  “You don’t think the fact the maze is closed, deserted, and out in the middle of nowhere might make it an ideal spot for criminal activity?” The word had been put out a good forty-­five minutes ago to get a team from Pinal County up to the Casa Grande Maze. These boys were all of ten minutes away, and yet they’d just arrived. Another indication the sheriff wasn’t taking the matter seriously. “Gentleman, I realize this may seem unusual.”

  “Unusual? A meeting of an online kill club taking place in a shut-­down corn maze—­in Pinal County?” Bill Plummer removed his hat. “Killers flying in from across the country to meet up in Casa Grande. Nah. We get that all the time around here. We’re a regular kill Club Med.” He winked at Campbell. “Get it—­a kill Club Med?”

  As Plummer’s chortle bloomed into a hearty laugh, Campbell covered a grin. Tension rolled down Spense’s arm, but he controlled the urge to raise either his fist or his voice—­barely. In truth, these men didn’t know him, didn’t know the case, and their skepticism was to be expected. That didn’t make it any less foolhardy. “I promise you, gentlemen, this is potentially a very dangerous situation. These men may be armed, and they’re ruthless killers.”

  His laughter spent, Plummer scuffed a bootheel on the unpaved ground, sending up a cloud of hot dust between him and Spense. “Well, like I said before, so far we ain’t seen anyone come or go. Not ruthless killers, not nobody.”

  “But you only just arrived,” Caity pointed out more politely than Spense was about to. “Have you taken a look inside the maze?”

  “Ain’t no cars in the parking lot.”

  “You think they’ll just park in the designated visitor spots?” Spense felt his blood pressure rise along with the decibel level of his voice. Rather than spew the epitaph that was on the tip of his tongue, he pulled in a long breath, and as a reward for controlling his temper, got a mouthful of dust. “Did you search the surrounding desert for vehicles?”

  “The sheriff instructed us to secure the perimeter of the corn maze, and that’s what we’re doing. There are two more deputies ’round the other side. If there’s anyone inside the maze, they gotta come out one of two ways, and we got both ways covered.”

  “So that’s a no. You haven’t looked for vehicles, and you haven’t checked out the maze,” Caity said in a clipped tone that, again, was far more polite than the one Spense could’ve managed.

  “Yes. That’s a no.” The deputy stuck a diagram in Spense’s face. “Here’s the layout if you wanna have a look for yourself.”

  Spense took a fast glance and memorized the key to the maze. This was a true maze, not a unicameral labyrinth, and that meant there were blind alleys everywhere. “Got it.” He handed the map off to Caity to keep. In the unlikely event they got separated, she was going to need it. “We’re going in. Uniforms from the Phoenix PD should be here shortly.”

  “We’ll keep securing the perimeter.” Bill and Sam resumed their slouches.

  As they entered the high corn, Spense took the lead, signaling Caity to keep close behind him. The stalks were a good eight feet tall, making it impossible to see anything except the path directly in front of them and providing plenty of places to hide. Leading with his gun and his eyes, Spense cleared the way the best he could, but it was slow going. Even with the sun down, it felt like they were trudging through an oven. There was still a bit of ambient light, and he wanted to avoid the use of a flashlight if possible. If there was anyone else in this maze, he didn’t want to tip them off to their presence. He and Caity had been making their way slowly toward the center of the maze for about twenty minutes, gagging on the scents of dirt and sweat and fertilizer, when he noticed a different, more ominous odor layered among the rest. He halted and narrowed his eyes, filling his lungs with a big breath through his nose.

  Caity took a big breath, too, and turned in a circle, then her face drained of color. “Do you smell gasoline?”

  Dammit. His jaw clamped down hard, and his heartbeat kicked up. This had to be a setup. He just didn’t know for whom. “We’re going back. Now.”

  Caity had an uneasy look on her face, and her posture went stiff, defiant. “I don’t want to turn around. If this place has been doused in gasoline, that means it’s the right location. That means the Man in the Maze is in here . . . somewhere.”

  The Man in the Maze was the key to everything, including Gail Falconer’s murder. Spense’s fingers clenched around his flashlight. He ached to find this bastard and make him pay for what he’d done to those women—­for what he’d done to Caity. Being this close, only to have the motherfucker slip from his grasp, made Spense’s throat constrict to the point it was hard to get his words out. “He’s here all right—­in a six-­acre cornfield that’s rigged to catch fire. We’re turning around, and we’re going to haul ass.”

  Caity’s body slumped like the last bit of air had been kicked out of it, but she nodded and trotted back the way they’d come.

  DIZZY’S LEGS PUMPED faster and faster until the ache in her muscles simply disappeared. She was pure energy now, her body flying through the maze. The whipping of the wind in her face, the scratching of dirt and debris on her skin, acted like jet fuel. Because, suddenly, faced with the reality of death, she understood just how very much she wanted to live. Fuck those mean girls at school. They weren’t going to take away her life. Mom loved her, and she loved Mom, and things were going to get better. Mom was going to find her help. She’d probably already called the doctor. She wasn’t going to do this to Mom. She wasn’t going to do this to herself.

  Run, Dizzy! Run!

  “Stop!” A thousand pins stabbed her in the back, and her body jolted like she’d been hit by lightning, but she kept on going.

/>   Run Dizzy!

  Then the lightning struck again. This time an arm came around her neck, crushing it. The pain shot through her chest, and she fell to the ground, her head striking the hardened dirt, making her vision go blurry.

  That woman—­that white-­haired witch crawled on top of her, a syringe in her hand. But Dizzy knew what to do. She grabbed the witch’s arm, chomped onto her wrist, and felt her teeth sink deep. She twisted and tore and tried to bite the witch’s arm off.

  With a yelp, the witch’s hand opened, and the syringe fell to the ground. “You little bitch!” She arched away from Dizzy, and Dizzy managed to get air under her shoulders. Heaving with all her might, she head-­butted the witch and rolled, flipping their positions. Now the woman was under Dizzy. Dizzy punched her in the face. Her fist exploded with pain, and blood splattered onto her blouse. She punched her again and again and again, until, finally, the woman stopped shouting, and her eyes closed. Dizzy sprang to her feet and started to run.

  Her arms pumped hard like before, but this time, her legs were weak, and she didn’t feel right inside. Blood dripped from her forehead and ran into her wet, burning eyes. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe, but she kept running.

  Run, Dizzy! Run!

  Too late, she saw the mound of debris and sticks on the path, and she tumbled forward, landing on the ground. At first she didn’t know what had broken her fall, she was just grateful she hadn’t hit the dirt face-­first. Pushing up with her elbows, she rolled off the big lump beneath her, and her mouth gaped in disbelief.

  A dead man had broken her fall.

  A SCREAM STOPPED Spense and Caity in their tracks. The voice was high-­pitched and terrified, like that of a young girl. Christ, Spense thought. The adrenaline already flowing through his body surged, sending his heart into overdrive. He didn’t want to leave Caity’s side, but he had no choice. He couldn’t ignore the cry for help, especially knowing the maze had been rigged for fire. Reining in his racing thoughts, he forced out a breath. At least Caity had a map. She should be able to find her way out. Before speaking, he shook his head hard at her, just in case she had any thought of coming with him. “Get the hell out of here. Do not stop for any reason. I’ll get the girl.”

  The look on her face told him she wanted to stay and help him, so he said the only thing he knew that would convince her to keep running. “You’re in my way, Caity. I can’t help the both of you, so please get out now.” He forced himself to turn his back, his chest heaving from the pain of letting her go. When he heard the sound of Caity’s footfalls running the opposite way, he flipped on his flashlight and began to run, his feet sure on the dirt path, picking up speed with each beat of his heart. The terror in the girl’s cries drove him forward even as the stench of gasoline grew stronger, then, suddenly, his breath stopped. Too late, it hit him—­Caity might have the map, but she didn’t have the light.

  Help!

  His pulse pounded in his ears, nearly drowning out the desperate cry, but he had to keep going. By now it was too dark to read the map, and the only thing he could do was trust Caity to find her way on her own. As his legs carried him farther from her and closer to the sound of the voice, he pictured Caity with her fists up, defending her underdogs against the whole wide world. Smiling to himself, he ran harder and faster.

  So hard, in fact, he nearly ran straight over the body.

  With the beam from his flashlight swinging back and forth across the path like a drunken moon, he skidded to a breathless halt. His free hand went to his Glock, ready to draw if need be. After a rapid assessment of the situation, he decided to keep it holstered . . . for now. Less than a foot in front of him, a disembodied face poked its way out of its hiding place in the corn.

  The girl.

  Blinking hard, Spense bit back a curse. At his feet, a bald, burly giant lay perfectly still—­apparently dead on the ground. He was wearing a hockey mask. A single trickle of blood ran down his white plastic cheek like a tear.

  The stalks of corn surrounding the girl’s face began to shake, creating a sound not unlike a child’s rattle. Spense put out his hand and made his voice low and friendly. “I’m FBI. I won’t hurt you.”

  With the wind rustling through the corn like a movie sound track, the girl stepped out onto the path. “You really FBI?” she asked in a shaky voice that held way too much trust. Her arms were thinner than the tall stalks swaying behind her, and her brown eyes were round, the pupils large with fear. This girl would be easy prey for the likes of the kill club.

  “Yeah. You know this guy?” Spense knelt beside the corpse. “You see what happened to him?”

  “N-­no.” She took a step closer. “He was dead when I found him. I-­I fell on top of him.” Her shoulders shook, and tears began streaming down her cheeks.

  Hoping to lighten the mood and ease her fears, Spense grinned a false smile up at her. It was going to be hard enough getting her out of the maze as it was, and if she panicked, she might freeze up and refuse to come with him. Then he’d have to subdue her and carry her out, and in this heat, that would be a monumental task even for him. “That must’ve been one hell of a surprise.” He wouldn’t have thought the girl’s eyes could get any bigger, but they did. “Take it easy,” he said, then out of his peripheral vision he saw it—­a flash of movement as the corpse beside him roared to life.

  The giant’s body jackknifed to a sitting position, and he head-­butted Spense, then jumped on him. His massive weight pinned Spense to the ground, crushing his chest, making it impossible to breathe. Spense’s flashlight tumbled down the path, leaving them in semidarkness. He tried to reach his pistol, but his arms were trapped behind his back, and his legs were paralyzed beneath the big man. He could do nothing to stop the giant from jerking his ser­vice weapon from its holster. As the man pressed the muzzle of Spense’s own pistol between his eyes, sweat poured down his forehead. The girl let out an earsplitting scream.

  “One hell of a surprise at your ser­vice, asshole.” The giant’s voice was strong—­and cruel.

  The pistol might be in Spense’s face, but in the process of getting it there, the giant had shifted so that his full weight was no longer on Spense’s chest. At least he could breathe again. At least he could speak again. His opponent outweighed him by a good fifty pounds . . . and sixteen bullets. Obviously, brute force alone was not going to get him out of this mess. As he tried to visualize a way out of this predicament, Spense’s eyes fluttered open and closed. Then, just like the solution to the Sunday crossword, it came to him. It was really quite simple. There was only one way out from under this goon—­the man was going to have to let him up voluntarily. And while Spense didn’t have a fully formed plan to accomplish this, he did have an opening gambit. “Good one, buddy. You sure got me. Now, how ’bout giving a man some air . . . Lieutenant.”

  Behind the mask, the goon’s flinty eyes shifted rapidly over Spense’s face. Good. Spense could see the confusion he’d caused, and all because he’d uttered a single word. “Lieutenant,” he repeated, emphasizing each syllable as much as possible with only half his usual lung volume at his disposal, “You’ve proven yourself worthy and had some fun in the mix. But if you don’t mind, I’m not keen on getting suffocated or shot by one of my own.”

  The giant shook his head violently. So violently the mask slipped to his chin, exposing a vast expanse of oily red skin, small gray eyes, and thin lips. Air hissed between his teeth. “You’re not the other lieutenant.”

  Spence grimaced as the giant’s sour breath hit him in the face. “Not the other lieutenant, you moron. I’m your teacher.”

  The goon’s chin jerked back. “You’re not him. I heard you tell that whore you’re FBI.”

  “Because she’s a stupid whore. Haven’t you learned any tricks from me after all this time? How the hell did you get your labyrinth if you don’t even know how to fool a little girl? And now you’re
going to defy me, the Man in the Maze?” He felt the weight on top of him shift again and focused on cooling his blood down. The goon had ice churning through his veins, and Spense damn well better act as cold. He had to convince him they were brothers. Two fearless men without the capacity for human empathy—­two empty shells that, at best, could be momentarily filled by the thrill of violence.

  “If you’re the Man in the Maze, prove it.” The goon kept the pistol between Spense’s eyes but crawled off him.

  “Sure.” Spense slid his hands from behind his back and held them far out to the sides. “We’ll do that little whore together. If that’s something that would please you.”

  The girl started to sob, but she didn’t try to run. Spense knew she’d given up. He’d been her last hope, and now she must believe he’d turned on her. His heart wanted to split in his chest at the way he’d betrayed her. He wanted to cry out for her to run and run hard, but the goon would only shoot him, and she’d be next. This was the only way. “You want the first piece, or do I get it?”

  “Ah, fuck me. Is it really you? That bitch who Tased me said you were dead.”

  “Well, as you can see, I’m very much alive.” Slowly, he sat up, the gun still pressed to his forehead and moving with him. “Just like you’re alive. I could’ve sworn . . .”

  “You thought I was dead.” A smile twisted the goon’s mouth. “After she Tased me, she tried to squirt some kind of shit in my mouth. Poison I figured. It dripped off the mask, but I just lay there, playing dead, and she went away. I was on my way back out when I heard someone running down the path, so I just laid down again, and here we are.”

  “Here we are—­the Man in the Maze and his lieutenant. Now, are you going to put the gun down, so we can do this chick, or should we go after the bitch who Tased you first?”