Jack felt the warm and sticky blood running down his arm. He closed his eyes and prayed that this dog he loved—who’d saved his life not once, but twice—would be spared her life, too.
49
While Shawna, Bobbie G., Boomer, and Kendra celebrated in the living room, Alice sat alone on the bed in Shawna’s cramped guest bedroom, staring down at the phone in her hand. This was the second time her call had gone straight to voice mail.
Bobbie G. knocked on the open door. “You okay?”
Alice opened her mouth to respond, but slowly closed it. She wasn’t okay. Things didn’t feel right. In spite of them catching Philip, she still kept looking over her shoulder as if someone was watching her.
“I can’t reach Jack.”
Bobbie waved a dismissive hand, crossed his big arms, and leaned against the doorframe with a thud. “You know Jack. He’s probably interviewing the guy. Raking him over the coals.”
Alice shook her head. “He called earlier. He doesn’t think Philip is the killer.”
“But he had all those cameras and stuff.”
“Jack thinks he’s probably a pedophile, but he said statistically, they stick with targeting children. So why would he target adult women on their wedding anniversaries?”
Bobbie’s smile faded. “Crap. That makes total sense. Guess the party’s over.”
“I just want Jack to call.”
“He will. Don’t tell him I said this, but if anybody can find that guy, Jack can.”
“Thanks.”
“You want to be alone, or . . . ?”
Alice nodded, and Bobbie backed out of the room and closed the door.
Alice’s phone buzzed. It was a group chat message. She didn’t recognize the originating number, but Erica’s number was included in the group, so she knew it had to be wedding-related.
I HAVE A WEDDING SURPRISE 4 U AND JACK. GO 2 BATHROOM WINDOW 2 SEE PARKING LOT.
A surprise for me and Jack?
Alice got up, gave a little wave to everyone in the living room, went into the bathroom, and closed the door behind her. But before she looked out the window, she stopped, wary, and texted back, WHO IS THIS?
The response came immediately. TRUST ME. U WILL LOVE THIS. SOMEONE WANTS 2 SAY HI 2 THE BLUSHING BRIDE.
OK. HAVE EM’ CALL ME.
I’m not sticking my head out a window for someone I don’t know.
I CAN SEND VIDEO INSTEAD. 4 UR EYES ONLY. R U ALONE?
YES.
The sender texted a video, along with an emoji of wedding bells. Alice opened it.
It showed Aunt Haddie in the backseat of a car, her head leaning against the window. Her eyes were closed like she was sleeping, a line of drool escaping from the corner of her mouth.
SHE’S WITH ME RIGHT NOW. LOOK.
Alice rushed to the window. There was a sedan parked outside. Aunt Haddie was in the backseat.
Alice’s heart dropped like a stone in her chest.
COME OUT THE WINDOW. TELL ANYONE AND UR AUNT DIES.
Alice’s blood boiled as she texted back. U HURT HER AND I KILL U.
COME OUT NOW! TICK-TOCK!
Alice stuffed her phone in the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back, stepped on the toilet rim to give her a boost, and climbed out the window onto the fire escape. She knew Jack was going to kill her for doing this, but she had to. If this psycho killed Aunt Haddie, she’d never be able to live with herself.
She quickly descended the ladder, her focus on the car. Someone was in the passenger seat.
They probably have a gun and they’re going to order me to drive.
The car was parked facing away from her. Keeping a sharp angle to whoever was sitting in the passenger seat, Alice quickly crossed the parking lot. From behind would be the best position to try to attack. Jack had been teaching her karate, and she’d always had a mean right hook.
Alice’s hand balled into a fist. The passenger window was down but the person hadn’t turned around yet. Alice lunged forward, grabbing the door with her left hand and swinging around with her right and struck the person in the face. The person slumped over onto the empty driver’s seat.
Yet something didn’t feel right, and when Alice looked in the car, she understood why. The person in the front seat was a woman. Her eyes were open and gray. And she was clearly dead.
I just punched a corpse.
Pain shot up Alice’s spine as the Taser barbs hit her. She pitched forward against the car and fell onto the tar in a heap. Her muscles knotted and constricted, but she could feel the sharp jab of a needle into her thigh.
She tried to lift her head, but someone opened the rear door and grabbed her by the shirt. She caught a glimpse of the polished black shoes and suit pants, but nothing more as he stuffed her in the backseat at Aunt Haddie’s feet and closed the door.
Alice wheezed. She gasped for air but still felt like she was suffocating. She wanted to scream, but darkness was sweeping over her.
Was she dying?
No. Please, God. Jack . . .
50
The Good Samaritan stopped right at the entrance of the Darrington Animal Shelter, a long one-story building set back from the road. Jack stroked Lady’s head as the woman circled the car and opened the rear door. Then he hooked his feet on the doorframe and awkwardly scooted himself out until he could lever himself to a sitting position. He did his best not to jostle Lady for fear of further injury, but the poor dog still whimpered, whined, and pressed her muzzle against the side of Jack’s face.
“Almost there, girl. Almost there.” He turned to the woman. “Thank you for everything.”
“I’m glad I could help. I hope they can save her.”
The vet’s assistant, Lacie, appeared at the door and held it open for Jack. She was in her mid-twenties, with a retro punk look—high-top sneakers, black skirt, silver nose ring, and a short-sleeved, paint-spattered shirt revealing arms covered in tattoos. The last time Jack had seen her, she’d had a blue streak running down the middle of her jet-black hair; now the streak was bright pink.
“What happened to Lady?” Lacie asked. Lady was somewhat of a celebrity at the clinic. Everyone loved the huge dog that Jack and Alice adopted after she helped them find the Giant Killer—the man who killed her former master.
“She’s been shot. I can’t tell if the vest stopped the bullet.”
Lacie gasped. “Follow me.” Holding onto Lady’s harness, Jack followed Lacie down the hall into the examination room. Lacie helped him lower Lady onto the table. The dog’s muzzle twisted up in a snarl and she made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a bark.
“You’re hurt!” Lacie said, seeing the blood on Jack’s hand. “Did you get shot, too?”
“No. Lady’s in a lot of pain. She didn’t mean it.”
Lacie nodded. “I’ll get Ryan.”
Lady pushed her head against Jack’s chest. Jack stroked her head with his left hand. “It’s okay,” he said, scratching her favorite place behind her ears.
The door swung open only a moment later, and Lacie came in with Ryan, who ran the animal shelter and clinic. He wore round glasses and had a wavy brown ponytail. Although he was in his early thirties, his khaki pants and blue T-shirt gave him a more youthful appearance.
“What happened?” Ryan asked.
“She’s been shot.”
Ryan laid a gentle hand on the big dog and spoke softly. “You’re gonna be fine, Lady. Let’s have a look at you.” He gently slipped a muzzle over Lady’s snout. Jack hated it, but he understood that Ryan had to protect himself and his staff.
“Have you checked to see if the bullet penetrated the vest?” Ryan asked Jack.
“No. I thought keeping her immobile would be the best thing to do.”
“It was. Good job.”
Ryan gave Lady a shot in her hindquarters to help relieve her pain. She growled through clenched teeth. Jack wasn’t sure if it was from the discomfort of the shot or the indignation of the muzzle.
She’s a fighter.
The vet took out a pair of scissors. “It would be best for Lady if I cut off the vest to look at the injury. I know it’s expensive but—”
“I don’t care about the money. I care about Lady. Cut it off.”
Carefully, and with a great deal of effort, Ryan cut off Lady’s bulletproof vest. As he lifted the vest out of the way, both he and Jack smiled. There was no exit hole in the Kevlar plate.
“Her ribs could still be broken,” Ryan said. “Lacie, why don’t you take Lady down to X-ray while I have a look at Jack’s hand?”
Lacie patted the big dog as she wheeled her out of the room.
“I’ll need to take the vest back so we can retrieve the bullet,” Jack said.
“No problem.” Ryan pointed at the chair. “Let’s get that hand cleaned up. Do you need something for the pain?”
“I can’t,” Jack said. “I have to keep my head on straight. I need to drive.”
The vet examined Jack’s hand. “I know Lady is up on her shots, so no worries there. But it looks like you’re going to need stitches. I can patch you up until you can get to the hospital.”
“That could be a while. I’m working another serial killing.”
“I don’t know how you do it. I’m glad I’m a vet and not a police officer.”
As Ryan started washing Jack’s cuts, Jack said, “I’m not going to end up howling at the moon when you’re done, am I?”
Ryan chuckled. “Don’t worry, I started out as a primary care physician. But I got tired of dealing with insurance companies. Besides, animals make much better patients. They don’t come in armed with their self-diagnosis from Dr. Google, demanding that I treat them for whatever malady they’ve already determined they have.”
“You seriously went from a human doctor to a vet?” Jack asked incredulously. “I mean—no offense. I just never heard of anyone doing it.”
“Neither did my folks. I thought they were going to explode. My father almost did. He didn’t speak to me for a whole year. I still had med school debts, after all, and here I was going back to school, only to make less money on the other side.” Ryan picked up some clean cloth. “This is going to hurt.”
Jack set his elbow on the table and grimaced. “How’s your relationship with him now?”
“Oh, it’s great. Unfortunately, it took him having a heart attack to turn the tide on things. After that, he agreed that I should do something that I love, doesn’t stress me out, and pays the bills.”
Jack ground his teeth as Ryan flushed out the deep puncture wounds. Ryan chuckled. “I’m used to dogs growling at me but not humans.”
“Sorry.”
“You know, you really are going to need stitches. And that should be done at a hospital.”
“Can’t you just throw in a couple of stitches yourself? One woman is missing, another was attacked, and the guy is targeting Alice. I’ll go to the hospital as soon as I can, but . . .”
“I get it. Is your tetanus up to date?”
“Just got one.”
“There’s still a high risk of infection. I’ll throw in some simple interrupted sutures that will hold the wound closed, but you’ll have to get this looked at within a few days. Will you agree to that?”
Jack nodded.
“It’s going to hurt.”
“More than getting bitten by Chewbacca?”
Ryan laughed. “Actually, maybe a little less.”
Ten minutes later, Ryan had finished the stitches and was wrapping Jack’s hand when Lacie stuck her head in.
“The X-rays are done. I need you to take a look.”
“Be right there.”
“I can finish wrapping my hand,” Jack said, taking the gauze from Ryan.
“Thanks.” Ryan set the tape down before following Lacie out of the room.
Jack finished bandaging his hand and awkwardly taped the end. He stared down at the bulky bandage and frowned. That’s going to go great with a tux. He pulled out his phone and hit speed dial for Alice.
It went to voice mail.
Come on, Alice. Of all the times not to pick up.
He left a message. “Hey. I know you’re doing a lot, but I need to speak with you. Call me. Love you.”
Jack stuffed the phone in his pocket and adjusted the gauze.
Ryan returned with mostly good news. “Two of Lady’s ribs are cracked. But they’re not broken, and there’s no lung or organ damage. Normally I might recommend external fixation, which involves pins. However, seeing how Lady is used to wearing a vest, I think we can wrap it. I do want to keep her here for a few days, however.”
“Thank you, Ryan. And please thank Lacie for me, too. Can I see Lady?”
“You can, but we gave her a sedative to take the X-rays. She’s out cold.”
Jack’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Bobbie G. “Sorry, I need to take this,” Jack said. He answered while walking into the hallway. “Hey, man. I’ve been trying to get ahold of Alice. Can you get her for me?”
There was a long pause. Bobbie cleared his throat and when he spoke, he sounded on the verge of tears. “Jack . . . Alice is gone.”
51
Alice’s eyes fluttered open. Wherever she was, it was warm. Stuffy. Surprised she wasn’t tied up or in chains, she unconsciously rubbed her wrists and stretched her limbs.
She hadn’t expected to wake up at all. Her head pounded.
A dim light filtered in through cracks around a door. She was in a room no bigger than a closet. The only furnishing was a bucket in one corner. The room was otherwise entirely empty.
She sniffed the air. The room smelled . . . old. Like one of those living history museums. So, she was in an older building . . . The face of a dead woman flashed in her memory, and she sat bolt upright.
Aunt Haddie!
The killer had Aunt Haddie. She had been in the back seat. Asleep, or . . .
Please, God, let her have been just sleeping. Please help Aunt Haddie. Please.
Alice’s hands flew to her lower back, damp with perspiration. Her phone wasn’t there. Not surprising. She noticed that her belt was missing as well, resulting in her pants being a little loose. Her shoelaces were gone, too.
Alice felt sick at the thought of the killer touching her when she was unconscious.
As quietly as she could, she stood up and tried the door. The knob didn’t turn. She ran her fanned-out fingers over the door, reading it as if she were trying to read Braille. Waist-high on the door was a rectangular cutout nearly a foot long and six inches high, backed by metal.
It’s one of those feeding slots they have in prison doors. I’m in a cell. Panic clutched at her, but she resisted the urge to pound on the door.
She flipped the bucket over and climbed on top. It was too dark to see the ceiling, so she reached up as high as she could, but she couldn’t connect with anything above her. She stepped down, and the bucket made a scraping sound against the wood floor.
“Hello?” Aunt Haddie whispered from somewhere in the darkness.
Alice’s throat tightened, and she nearly doubled over, like someone had punched her in the gut. Instinctively she moved closer to the sound of Aunt Haddie’s voice and pressed her hands against the wall, wishing she could knock it down. “Aunt Haddie. I’m so sorry.”
“Lower your voice, baby girl. I’m here. Everything is going to be okay.” Aunt Haddie’s voice was calm and strong—clearer than Alice had heard her in many months. Alzheimer’s was a cruel and unpredictable disease.
Alice began to cry. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. He took you because of me.”
“Don’t be silly. There’s a reason I’m here. I’m sure of it. And I’d rather be here with you to help you, instead of thinking of you here alone.”
Aunt Haddie still had the heart of a mother bear. “How did he catch you?”
“Susan said you were sending someone to pick me up. I waited at the front door, and when the car came, I
got into the backseat. I didn’t even think about it. There was a man driving. I didn’t see his face, because he was turned away, but I immediately noticed his cologne: Proper Modern Gentleman. That was the same cologne my Alton wore every day for fifty years, and for just a second, I thought . . . well, I about went to pieces. I opened my purse to get a tissue and the man handed something back to me. I thought he was handing me a box of tissues, but the thing sparked, and then there was a searing pain. The next thing I knew, I woke up in here.”
“That was a Taser.” Alice fought to control her voice. “What kind of dirtbag Tasers an old lady?”
“Who are you calling an old lady?” Aunt Haddie chuckled.
“How can you laugh at a time like this? That man is a—”
“I know what kind of man he is. And I know how dark this looks. But we’re going to pray, and the good Lord is going to get us out of here.”
Tears rolled down Alice’s face. She wanted to be strong, but this was just too much. “Aunt Haddie, how’s God going to get us out of here? We don’t even know where we are and no one else does either.”
“God knows where we are. And Jackie’s going to be looking. That boy will find us.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
There was a little pause and Aunt Haddie started humming softly. “There’s always the chance that he won’t and God calls us home. If that’s the case, then you try to concentrate on what a wonderful reunion party it’s going to be.”
Alice sobbed. She didn’t want to die. Not now. She wanted to live. She wanted to scream how unfair it all was. But she knew she didn’t have to say a word. Aunt Haddie understood. She had already buried Chandler and Michelle. She had never been able to bear children, but she had loved those two like her own. And she loved Alice and Jack the same way.
“Alice?”
“I’m here.”
“Put your hand against the wall.”
Alice placed her right hand on the wall, guessing where Aunt Haddie would be placing hers.
“Dear Lord. I know we’re in a long line of a great company of your children calling out to you from the darkness of prison, but we also know that you’re there for each one of us. You hear us. If it’s your will, please show us the way to get out or lead others to us. If it’s not to be, give us the strength to bear this burden. Thank you for Alice, and be with her now. In Christ’s name, Amen.”
Jack of Diamonds Page 22