The Darkness of Evil

by Jacobson, Alan

  She held up five fingers.

  “Five’s a good age.” He wanted to get rid of her, to send her back to the television without doing it too obviously. “What’s that show you’re watching? I’m not familiar with it.”

  “Wild Kratts.”

  She was not saying much, which went along with her body language—fear, perhaps shyness around strangers. But he also had to be prepared to handle an unpredictable outburst, the wildcard in a situation like this.

  He knew what Victoria was thinking: could he kill a child?

  “I think Cassie should go back and enjoy the rest of her program, don’t you, mom?”

  “Yes, honey, go back to the couch and watch your show.” She pushed her gently away from her leg and, using both hands on her daughter’s back, guided her toward the family room.

  As Cassie walked away—glancing over her shoulder at Marcks—he grinned at her and then said to Victoria, between his teeth, “When’s your husband coming home?”

  “Four-thirty. Any—any minute.”

  Marcks felt his shoulder muscles tighten. His mind went blank. He squinted, trying to recover, hide his sudden weakness. “Is there a gun in the house?”

  “We don’t believe in guns.”

  He turned and surveyed the kitchen. A Henkel knife block sat on the dark gray, black and white granite counter beneath the window. He stepped over and pulled out a couple, chose a serrated blade of medium length. “Very good. Recently sharpened.”

  “What are you—what are you going to do with it?”

  “I’m not going to kill you with it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Or anyone else. If you cooperate.”

  “Then why do you need it?”

  “Victoria. Really? It’s in case you don’t cooperate.” And for control. But he did not tell her that. He slipped it into his back jeans pocket.

  A low rumble vibrated by the far wall.

  “Daddy’s home!” Cassie said as she slid off the couch.

  Marcks rushed across the room and took Cassie by the hand. “Shh. Hang on there, darlin’. Let’s surprise him.” He put his large hand across her belly and lifted her up in one motion toward his body. “I’ve got a present for him and I don’t want to ruin the surprise. Okay?”

  “What’s the surprise?”

  “Oh, it’s a really good one. Wait till you see his face.” Without taking his eyes off the family room door that led to the garage, he said, “Victoria. What’s his name?”

  Victoria put a hand over her mouth and mumbled, “Nathan.” It came out as a muffled whimper, but Marcks understood what she said.

  Marcks moved into the blindside of the door as it opened and Nathan walked in. Physically fit—but no threat to Marcks, who had about four inches and fifty to seventy-five pounds of muscle on him.

  Nathan saw his wife’s terrified face and stepped farther into the house as he swung his head left, toward Marcks. But it was clear his brain did not register the man’s presence. His gaze was fixed on to Cassie.

  “Who are you?” Nathan said, recovering.

  Marcks kicked the door shut. He was not going to give Nathan a chance to escape back into the garage. Then again, he was reasonably certain that a husband and father would not leave his wife and daughter with an intruder.

  “Just do what I say and no one gets hurt.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” Nathan repeated, anger and dominance permeating his tone.

  And this was another moment where Orlando’s guidance would prove useful. Nathan was likely a man of importance; perhaps a vice president or even a CEO. Someone accustomed to being in charge, calling the shots. Directing people around.

  Marcks reached into his pocket and drew the knife out. He held it up. He did not slap it against the girl’s neck. He did not raise his voice.

  Cassie began crying. She squirmed but Marcks held her against his body with a vise-like grip. He brought his right hand, which held the Henkel blade, against her mouth.

  “I’m the man holding your wife and daughter at knife point. I’m the man you’re going to listen to, the man you’re going to be courteous to. Got it, Nathan?”

  Nathan’s eyes widened. His breathing became shallower, his bravado replaced by fear for his family’s well-being. “Just—just put my daughter down. Let my wife leave with my daughter.”

  “Victoria and Cassie aren’t going anywhere,” Marcks said. He knew that using their names, thereby showing familiarity with Nathan’s family, would be unnerving. Questions would be darting through his thoughts: what else did he know about them? Had he been stalking them? What was this about?”

  “What jewelry and cash do you have in your house?”

  “I—I, uh—”

  “Do not lie to me,” Marcks said. “Victoria and I have already been through this. Tell him, Vicky.”

  “Tell him the truth,” she stammered. “And he won’t hurt any of us.”

  Marcks turned back to Nathan and tilted his head. “And your answer is?”

  “We’ve got some diamond rings here. Nothing big. And about two hundred in cash.”

  “That’s it?” Marcks shouted it, scaring Cassie again. “Quiet,” he said, squeezing the girl tighter.

  “How much do you usually withdraw when you go to the bank?”

  “I—I don’t know, it varies.”

  “What’s the most?”

  Nathan looked to Victoria. Clearly she was the one who took care of the banking chores.

  “Five thousand,” she said.

  Marcks shifted his weight and looked at Cassie. “I’m going to release my hand. You are not to cry or scream or yell. If you do, I’ll hurt you. Understand?”

  She began whimpering but did not say anything.

  “Did you hear me?” he said firmly.

  “Yes.”

  He removed his hand from her mouth and pointed the knife at Nathan. “Get over there with your wife.”

  Nathan complied and Victoria nearly jumped into his arms.

  Back to Victoria: “How often have you withdrawn five grand?”

  “I don’t know,” she said with a sniffle, her eyes riveted to Cassie. “Twice, maybe.”

  “Did it draw attention? Did they ask you about it?”

  “Not on our account,” Nathan said. “Five thousand isn’t a big deal.”

  “I asked Victoria, Nathan. Keep your mouth shut.”

  Marcks looked at Victoria and lifted his brow.

  “Like Nathan said. It’s not a problem.”

  “Okay.” Still holding Cassie, Marcks paced down the hallway, turned, and walked back. “Victoria, you’re going to go in there and withdraw four thousand dollars.”

  She swallowed. “Okay.”

  “And why are you taking the money out?” Marcks asked.

  “Why?” Nathan asked. “Because you’re holding us hostage.”

  “Wrong fuckin’ answer, Nathan. See, you say something stupid like that and cops’ll come here and I’ll kill you and your daughter.” He turned to Victoria. “Now I’ll ask again. And I want you to answer. Why are you withdrawing this money?”

  “We—we’re doing some landscape work and the contractor wanted to be paid in cash because he had to lay out the money for the trees he planted.”

  Marcks shook his head. “In the dead of winter, with snow on the ground? You planted trees?”

  “I—I, uh, we had new carpeting installed.”

  Marcks grinned slyly. “Very good, Victoria. Very good. And how far away is the bank?”

  “Fifteen minutes. At most. Probably twelve.”

  Marcks nodded slowly. “Let’s both check the time.” He gestured at the digital radio-controlled clock hanging in the kitchen. “You can get there and make the withdrawal before they close. Be back here in forty minutes.”

 
; “What—what if I’m late? It’s rush hour. I can’t control—”

  “I’m a reasonable guy, Victoria. Tell you what. If you’re late, I won’t kill your daughter. Or your husband.” He held up the knife. “But I will chop off one finger of Nathan’s right hand for every five minutes you’re past due. Fair enough?”

  Victoria’s mouth dropped open and tears welled up in her eyes.

  “I’m talking to you, Victoria. Fair enough?”

  She nodded quickly, words still too difficult to form in her hysterical state.

  “Good. Give me your cell phone.”

  Victoria dug it out of her purse and handed it over.

  “Now remember. If I smell anything wrong. If I hear anything out of the ordinary. If I see a car pull up anywhere it’s not supposed to, I’m going to stick this knife in your daughter’s stomach. Then—” He stopped himself. “Well, you don’t want to know what I’ll do after that, trust me.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Now take a deep breath with me.” Marcks threw his shoulders back and filled his lungs. Victoria forced herself to follow suit. “That’s it. Good. Okay now. Forty minutes. Starting … now.”

  Victoria ran for the garage door.

  24

  A chill rattled Vail’s body. “This correctional officer. Kubiak. Have you interviewed him?”

  Ramos stamped his boots against the barn’s cement floor. “Scheduled for tomorrow morning, 11:00 AM.”

  “Mind if I sit in on that?”

  “If you think it’d help, fine with me.”

  “What are the ramifications of this?” Curtis asked.

  Hurdle folded his arms across his chest. “First thought is that this is no coincidence. Second thought is that Kubiak had a hand in the escape. And if he’s willing to risk his career to break Marcks out of Potter, he may’ve arranged other things for his friend. Third and most important thought is that he may know something about his whereabouts.”

  “So you don’t think we should wait till tomorrow,” Ramos said.

  “Hell no. Get over there now. I’ll call Potter, see if Kubiak’s shift is over. If not, I’ll make sure he hangs out till you get there but I’ll make it clear they’re not to freak him out. We just have some questions. We’re looking for help locating the fugitive. That’s it. If he’s gone for the day, I’ll get his home address.”

  “This guy a flight risk?” Vail asked.

  “Only if he realizes that we’re on to him. Regardless, I don’t want to get blindsided. Until we know what his deal is, whether he’s helped Marcks or not—and I’m thinking he probably did—we treat him as a person of interest and a potential flight risk. Let him prove otherwise.”

  “We’ve got a wiretap in place for Marcks,” Ramos said. “Since we’re already up on that wire, let’s see if we can get something from Kubiak.”

  Vail pulled out her phone to text Robby that she was not going to make dinner. “Looking for what?”

  “I’m thinking we drop some bread crumbs, then watch him eat. If he does shit his pants when he hears we want to talk to him, he may call Marcks—or someone who’s in contact with Marcks—which may ultimately lead us to Marcks.”

  “It’s a slower approach,” Hurdle said, “but I like the idea. And if we weren’t dealing with a violent criminal who’s just killed two people, I’d be on board. But I’m not sure we have time to wait and see if Kubiak may have a way of contacting him.” He turned to Tarkoff. “Ben, what do you think?”

  Tarkoff leaned back in his chair. “Try it for a few hours and see if he bites. A guy like that, if he really did put his career on the line to help Marcks get out, he’s gonna want to warn him ASAP. I say if we haven’t heard anything in three hours, we have another chat with him.”

  Hurdle rocked back on his heels a few seconds. “Okay. Do it.”

  “Does Kubiak have a wife and kids?” Vail asked.

  “Married, one young son,” Ramos said. “And he rents. Doesn’t own his home.”

  “So if he is involved, his career’s over anyway. He could take off.”

  “Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen,” Hurdle said. “Yes?”

  “Hell yeah,” Ramos said as he gathered his keys off the worktable.

  “Take Vail, get up there, and sell it good. Don’t give Kubiak any reason to think we know he’s Marcks’s bud.”

  25

  Marcks sat on the living room couch facing the front window. The curtains were drawn, but he could see through them whenever headlights turned toward the house. While that would give him some warning if police or tactical vehicles came up the driveway, if they set up shop down the street and approached on foot, he was screwed.

  Of course, this whole escape was fraught with risks. Tonight was just one of many.

  Nathan sat facing him three feet away. Not far enough to attempt an escape and not close enough to present a threat. Not that he presented a threat to Marcks. But it was better to follow Orlando’s rules of engagement—and that meant keeping your distance.

  Cassie was between them, crying.

  “At least let me comfort her,” Nathan said.

  Marcks glared at him. “Stay right where you are. She’ll get over it.”

  “She’s just a little kid.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Why are you doing this to us?”

  Marcks debated whether or not to answer him. “Because you had what I needed. I think you could just chalk it up to wrong place, wrong time. In other words, rotten fu—rotten friggin’ luck.”

  “Are you going to let us go?”

  Marcks looked away. “All depends on Victoria, Nathan. Simple as that.”

  Victoria had been gone for thirty-eight minutes. Nathan kept checking his luxury watch, no doubt stressing over what was going to happen to them.

  “I’d like to see that,” Marcks said, gesturing at the timepiece.

  “See it or steal it?” Nathan asked.

  Marcks gave him an icy stare. “What kind is it?”

  “Tag Heuer. My fifteenth anniversary present.”

  “Very touching.” He held out his left hand.

  Nathan unhooked the latch and handed it over, then gave Cassie a brave wink. Trying to add a positive spin to the grim situation. If Dad was confident all would be okay, everything had to work out.

  Marcks tried to put the watch on, but it was too tight. He slipped it into his jeans pocket.

  “Where do you keep your medicine?”

  Nathan turned away from Cassie. “What?”

  “Your medicine cabinet. For the kid. Where is it?”

  “Her bathroom, down the hall.”

  “Let’s go. Lead the way. Cassie, take my hand.”

  She stopped crying long enough to shake her head, an emphatic no.

  Marcks was not deterred. He gathered her up into his arms, bear-hugging her as they walked down the hallway.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Nathan said.

  “I’m not hurting her,” he said as they passed the master bedroom. “Wait.” He pushed Nathan inside, then went to the vanity that Nathan and Victoria used. “Where’s your shaver?”

  Nathan slid a drawer open.

  Marcks removed a Norelco, a comb, and a pair of scissors. He saw a leather Dopp kit embossed with a George Mason University logo and inserted the grooming items, then took the bag with him back down the hall.

  They entered Cassie’s bathroom and Marcks set her down next to the sink.

  “Open the cabinet.”

  Nathan did as instructed and Marcks perused its contents. There were a few over-the-counter bottles, a couple of homeopathic remedies, Children’s Tylenol, and—Benadryl.

  “Open the Benadryl and fill the little plastic cup.”

  Nathan struggled with the child protective top.

  “Calm down
, Nathan. Take a breath.”

  He did just that and steadied his hand long enough to remove the cap. He poured the red liquid, then handed it to Marcks.

  “No, it’s for her.”

  “For her—no. She doesn’t need—”

  “Don’t fucking argue with me, Nathan.” He clenched his fist. “It’s not a good idea. Or I’ll give her the medication and I might not be so gentle.”

  Nathan turned to his daughter and told her to open her mouth. She looked at him, showing some understanding of what was going on—that her daddy was being forced to do things he did not want to do. Still, he was asking her to take medicine, which didn’t always taste good. But it was something her parents told her was good for her.

  She opened her mouth and Nathan poured it in. She made a face but swallowed.

  “Now you,” Marcks said. “Same thing.”

  Nathan did as he was told.

  “Now take that bottle with us back out to the living room.” As they walked down the hall, Marcks said, “Where’s your duct tape?”

  “Duct tape?”

  “Everybody’s got fuckin’ duct tape, Nathan. I’m not in the mood to play games.”

  “Garage.”

  They retrieved a half-full roll and went into the kitchen, where Marcks made Cassie sit in one of the seats. He went about securing her wrists and ankles to the arms and legs, then placed a strip across her lips and around her neck. By now the Benadryl was having its intended effect, and her crying had become soft, drowsy whimpers.

  As he sliced the last strip of tape, Marcks heard the vibration of the garage door rolling up. In walked Victoria.

  “Is—is everything okay?”

  “We’re all fine,” Marcks said. “Thanks for asking.”

  She did not think that was funny. Her eyes found Cassie as she walked into the kitchen. “What’s wrong with her? What’d you do to her?”

  “You have something for me?”

  Victoria handed over an envelope about a half-inch thick and went over to Cassie’s side.

  “Leave her alone, Victoria. She’s fine just the way she is.” Marcks gave a quick glance inside and saw greenbacks. “And now we’ve got something for you. Nathan, give your wife a dose.”