Eduardo furrowed his brow. “Who is this man?”
“I can’t say.” It will be all over the news soon enough.
Eduardo raised his gaze to the ceiling. “Does Mrs. Mace know?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll send Anna upstairs to keep her company.”
“Thank you, but that isn’t necessary. I’m sure Cheryl will be happy to see her in the morning, though. She’s likely to be focused on the TV all day.”
Eduardo nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on things while you’re gone.”
Mace smiled at the man. “I appreciate that, but those officers outside aren’t going anywhere. They’ll keep an eye out for everyone in the house.”
Eduardo shrugged. “Still.”
“Good night,” Mace said.
“Good night, Captain.”
Mace closed the inner door behind him and opened the front door, then the security gate over the door. A police cruiser idled double-parked out front. Shivering, he walked down the front steps to the cruiser. The officer behind the wheel lowered his window.
Mace leaned forward. “Hi, what are your orders?”
“Fugitive watch, right? Rodrigo Gomez.”
Mace took out his card and handed it to the PO. “You’re watching for Gomez or anything else out of the ordinary. If you see anything at all, radio it in and then call me. If either one of you needs to use the bathroom, call me and I’ll work it out. Don’t ring that bell unless you call me first.”
“Sure.”
“This may be a babysitting assignment, but don’t treat it like one. I don’t expect Gomez to get anywhere near here, but if he does, he’s wily. That’s how he escaped. I doubt your CO will call you away, but if he does, call me. At the end of your shift, don’t leave until relief has arrived. Am I clear?”
“We get it.”
“We have tenants downstairs, a Mexican family. No one receives visitors, not them and not my wife. No press. Keep your eyes peeled for a chubby guy with blond hair named Carl Rice. He’s a persistent devil.”
“Copy that.”
Mace glanced at the upstairs window, where Cheryl stood watching him. He gave her a wave and she returned it, and then he walked to the driveway and got into his department issue Jeep Cherokee.
On the road, Mace called Karol, who answered on the fourth ring.
“Rodrigo Gomez escaped from Sing Sing,” he said.
“Shit,” Karol said.
“I’m on my way there now. Why don’t you meet me?” Keeping Karol in the loop was the easiest way he knew to keep Gabriel in the loop as well.
“Okay, what about Landry and Candice?”
“Notify Landry. Tell him there’s no need to go in now, but I want him at the squad room early. Let Candice get a good night’s sleep.” Mace hung up and autodialed Jim Mint, who answered on the first ring.
“I’m en route to the scene,” Mace said.
“So am I,” Jim said.
“Welcome to my world. Any updates?”
“Strand is already there. The prison’s on lockdown, obviously. Officers are checking the homes near the grounds, and choppers are in the air.”
“What about the dead COs?”
“One was killed in Gomez’s cell, the second in the control room between the block and the sally port, and the third in a tower.”
The last piece of information caused Mace to narrow his eyes. “How the hell did he get into the tower?”
“You tell me.”
“And no one in the block saw anything?”
“Strand moved Gomez into solitary after the interview with your wife. After three days of Gomez howling like a wolf, they moved him into an older building to keep him separate from the skells in solitary.”
“Jesus.”
“Given Gomez’s public declaration last week, I’m concerned he might be a Class L. But we sent his hair samples to Quantico, and his DNA is human.”
Mace’s jaw tightened. How long would it take for the government to realize DNA was useless to determine if a human being was a Wolf?
Until they capture one alive.
Ten
When the sound of shattering glass somewhere downstairs snapped Sam O’Hearn awake, he thought Billy Jack, the family’s bullmastiff, had knocked over something expensive. Then the dog barked, snarled, and barked some more.
“What the hell?” Sam said, wincing at the light coming from the emergency flashlight plugged into one wall.
Debra sat up beside him. “What’s that dog doing now?”
A second set of snarls drowned out Billy Jack’s, and Sam sat up too. Looking at the alarm clock, he saw 12:00 blinking in red light. He reached for the lamp switch and turned it, but darkness persisted. Downstairs, the snarling grew louder.
“What’s going on?” Debra asked.
“Do I look like a fortune-teller?” Sam lifted the phone from its cradle and pressed it against his ear. He heard no dial tone. He tapped the sensor several times, listened again, and hung up. “The power’s out, and the landline’s dead. Where’s your cell?”
Fear crept into Debra’s voice. “It’s charging downstairs.”
Sam stood. “Great.”
“Where’s yours?”
“On my desk.” Sam did PR for clients in New York City from his home office downstairs.
The snarls downstairs turned vicious, with half barks stringing them together. He freed the flashlight from the wall. “Get up.”
“Why?” She got out of bed.
Sam grabbed her hand and dragged her to the door. “We’re going into Tiffany’s room. Maybe she has her cell phone.”
They crept into the hallway, illuminated by moonlight shining through the skylight and Christmas lights blinking downstairs. The uproar grew louder and more ferocious, with the banging around of furniture added to the symphony. Debra dug her fingernails into Sam’s arm.
Ignoring her, he closed his fingers around the knob of Tiffany’s door and turned it. Under normal circumstances, he would have knocked on his sixteen-year-old daughter’s door for the sake of her privacy, but he knew she was asleep this late. The door creaked open, and they stepped inside. Sam closed the door, and Debra hurried over to the bed where Tiffany slept. Sam did not lock the door. Why should he? Two animals were fighting downstairs. He guessed that a black bear had somehow broken through a window, and Billy Jack was doing his family duty.
Debra sat on the edge of the bed and shook Tiffany.
“What’s happening?” Tiffany said in a groggy voice.
“Where’s your cell phone?” Debra said.
“I left it in the car. I was too tired to go get it.”
Debra looked at Sam. In the darkness, he could not make out her expression.
“I’m going down there,” he said.
Debra stood. “You are not.”
“I need one of our phones. Billy Jack could get seriously hurt.” He loved that dog. “Lock the door after me. I’ll be fine.”
He opened the door and stepped into the hall. Debra closed the door behind him, and the feeble lock clicked. Sam reentered the bedroom, switched on the flashlight, and drew a metal baseball bat from beneath the bed. Then he switched the flashlight off, walked to the edge of the stairs, and looked down. The steady pulse of the Christmas lights reminded him of police strobes. The lights cast odd shapes over the downstairs floor, then withdrew them into blinking darkness.
Billy Jack continued to snarl and bark, and his opponent issued a growl so deep Sam shuddered. He descended the carpeted stairs with deliberation, grateful the sound of the fighting animals drowned out each squeak. If a bear had gotten inside, what the hell was he going to do? Maybe he should just take Debra and Tiffany out onto the roof below Tiffany’s window.
No way. It’s too goddamned cold outside.
Halfway down the stairs, he heard a piercing yelp that made him cringe. The yelp came to an abrupt end, followed by dead silence. Sam stood rooted to the spot, his heart hammering. He took a cautious st
ep down and froze at the sound of the creak his weight made. He debated turning around, and in that instant a great black shape slapped the floor at the base of the stairs, eight feet from the front door. Recoiling, he recognized the carcass: it belonged to his beloved dog. Blood poured out of Billy Jack’s neck, and Sam believed the fur and flesh had been torn from the dog’s skull.
Swallowing, Sam dropped the flashlight and held the bat in both hands, ready to swing. The flashlight rolled end over end down the stairs, like a crippled Slinky. It struck the floor near Billy Jack’s head, and its plastic face separated. The two pieces clattered, and Sam drew in a deep breath, debating whether to flee.
A shadow fell over the dog’s carcass, and then a black shape blocked his view of the door. He would have mistaken the shape for another shadow had the Christmas lights not cast multiple colors on the beast that stood seven feet tall and as erect as a man, but there was no way in hell that thing was human. Its pointy ears jutted back from the top of its head, and its powerful jaws revealed long canine teeth. Tufts of fur extended from its elbows, and long fingers opened and closed above hind legs with three sections instead of two. If it was a bear, it was the skinniest goddamned bear he’d ever heard of. But he knew it was no bear.
In the blink of an eye, the creature charged up the stairs on all fours, foaming at the mouth, and Sam tightened his grip on the metal bat. He knew he had to make the first swing count, and as the creature leapt forward, snarling at him as it had at Billy Jack, he saw an evil glint in its eyes. He swung the bat with all his might, and it clanged against the monster’s head. The beast fell onto the stairs, but it did not roll down them, and Sam raised the bat for an overhead swing. The monster—a werewolf for sure, he thought—lunged forward and sank its teeth into his right ankle. He let out an agonized scream and dropped the bat, which slid down the stairs.
Debra ran to the bedroom door as soon as Sam started screaming, but her hand froze on the knob when the screams stopped. Sensing a presence on the other side of the door, she backed away from it.
“Mom?” Tiffany whispered.
Debra raised her hand to silence the girl. Then she crossed the room to the window facing the backyard. The streetlight on the opposite side of the block reflected blue on the cold glass of the window. She threw the locks and lifted the window, allowing cold air to blow inside. “Get over here.”
Tiffany joined her. “What are we doing?”
“Grab some shoes, and get out on the roof.”
Tiffany opened her closet door and took out a pair of sneakers.
The doorknob turned.
“Put them on outside,” Debra said.
“Mom . . .”
Debra pushed her daughter headfirst through the window and onto the flat roof below. The night sky was bright gray, the moon full and glowing.
Once Tiffany’s knees thumped on the roof, Debra leaned forward, intending to crawl after her. Too late: the door exploded off its hinges, shattering into pieces. The snarling beast landed on all fours on the wreckage and jerked its massive head toward Debra, who slammed the window closed. The wolflike creature pulled its lips back, revealing sharp canine teeth that jutted out at uneven angles. It focused on her, and even in the dim light she identified a degree of hatred in its eyes she had never before seen in an animal. It meant to kill her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Trying to distract it from the window so Tiffany could escape, Debra dove over the foot of the bed, and the monster crashed into the wall where she had just stood and unleashed an angry roar. Wedging herself between the wall and the bed, she slid to the floor. The monster snarled and tossed the lower half of the bed aside, exposing Debra within a triangle of floor space. Lying on her back, she scooted under the bed, one of the wooden slats inches from her face. The monster heaved the mattress and box spring off the bed frame, exposing her once more.
Debra screamed as it leapt upon the slats and dug its claws into her forearms. It snapped its jaws at her face, and she twisted her head from side to side and drove her knees against the slats beneath her attacker. Hot spittle flew onto her face. The monster flung the slat protecting her face away, then buried its muzzle in her head, driving its teeth through her flesh, gristle, and bone, its teeth clattering against hers, scraping her gums and coming to a stop that severed her tongue. The pain kept her from passing out, so she was conscious as she choked on her own blood.
The monster tore away another slat, then seized her breasts in its claws, an act of aggression that terrified her with its human intent. Still gagging on blood, she jerked her trunk and pounded its furry thighs as it peeled her torso like a banana. Pain exploded throughout her body, and blood splashed her face in waves. Even as her vision darkened and her consciousness faded, she willed her limbs to continue moving. Every second she fought bought Tiffany extra time.
Don’t die . . . don’t . . . Tiffany . . .
Her arms flopped to her sides.
Tiffany scraped her knees on the roof as she dropped from her bedroom window. Rolling onto her back, she pulled on her sneakers. Her mother appeared to be ready to follow her when the door smashed open and a large black furred animal sprang into the room. Tiffany uttered a small cry drowned out by the creature’s roar.
Her mother slammed the window shut and faced the creature, and Tiffany rose on unsteady legs. Her mother leapt toward the bed, beyond her view, and the monstrous animal slammed against the wall so hard that Tiffany took a step back from the window. She saw the beast’s face in the glass, though she was certain it could not see outside. It was no animal; it was a monster. The bed moved back from the wall, and then the screaming started.
Tiffany backed across the roof, turned at its edge, and stared at the L-shaped, wraparound deck below, illuminated by moonlight. Wind whipped her nightgown around her legs, and she trembled. Inside the house, her mother’s screams continued. Where was her father?
Probably killed by that thing, whatever it is.
The distance to the deck was too great to jump. She kneeled on the roof, then swung her legs over the edge, scraping them on the gutter. She lowered her body until her armpits pressed against the gutter, her fingertips clawing at the roof’s composite surface. Then she let go, tipping her head back so her chin didn’t bang against the gutter. It took only seconds for her feet to slam down on the wooden deck, and then she backpedaled to the steps and toppled into the backyard, where water soaked through her nightgown to her buttocks. Working her way up on her elbows, she gaped at her window. The silhouette of a thick black head with pointy ears blotted out the light.
Fear seized Tiffany’s throat like a vise. She rolled onto her knees, soaking them, and got to her feet, her wet nightgown clinging to her entire backside. Above her, the window opened. What the hell was that thing? She staggered forward, then broke into a run, circling the deck to the gate of the six-foot wooden fence that surrounded the property. The monster snarled above her. Ignoring it, she threw the latch on the gate, swung the gate open, and hurried through the opening. She closed the gate, pivoting as the latch dropped into place, and ran along the side of the house. The gate rattled behind her, and claws scraped the concrete walkway below it. Tiffany ran faster.
Rounding the corner of the two-car garage, she wanted to ring the front doorbell and see if her father would answer, but she knew stopping meant death, so she sprinted across the lawn at a diagonal angle. The monster howled behind her, a defiant cry that filled the night. The houses in the isolated neighborhood were spread far apart, and she knew she would never reach the nearest neighbors before the monster overtook her. There were no sidewalks, and she jumped over the drainage ditch that separated her house from the hilly road and landed on the asphalt. She ran into the middle of the road, praying a car would come. Hopefully it wouldn’t be speeding at sixty miles per hour.
The beast’s claws scratched the pavement behind her, and she veered to one side of the road. Her chest ached from sucking in cold air, and she tasted coppe
r. The sound of the scrabbling claws grew louder. She told herself not to look behind her or she might trip. She pumped her arms faster, focusing on the streetlight in the distance.
Tiffany felt something hot and moist on her ankles. Pain flared in the Achilles tendon of her left ankle, and for a moment she imagined a scissor had cut it. The result was the same: she pitched forward onto the road, skinning her palms and chin on the pavement. A weight pounded on her back, driving the wind from her lungs, and she knew it was all over for her and she would not even be able to fight back. She was sure her father and mother had fought to the last possible second.
Salivating on her shoulders, the monster straddled her and rolled her over. Tiffany gazed at the vicious eyes and elongated snout of a muscular wolf that stood like a man. She knew this creature was neither man nor beast but a cocktail of the two. The monster leered at her, its cunning expression sending waves of nauseating fear through her body. It licked its sharp teeth with a long tongue, then plunged its jaws down over her neck, rending her flesh and spilling her blood. She didn’t even get to scream.
Eleven
Mace made the drive to Ossining, New York, in just under an hour. Traffic was light, but he took it easy driving along the Hudson River at night. Ten minutes shy of Sing Sing Correctional Facility, he pulled over when the police officers at a checkpoint flagged him down. Rolling down his window, he showed his ID to the officer who approached his vehicle. “I’ve been called to the scene.”
The officer pointed a flashlight at Mace’s ID, read it, and checked Mace’s face for a match. “Yes, sir. You know the way?”
“I’ve been here before.” Too many times.
The officer stepped back, and Mace resumed his journey. He drove uphill, the road flanked by trees, and as he crested the hill the prison came into view, spotlights in the towers sweeping the grounds. A police helicopter circled the area, aiming a spotlight of its own at the trees. Mace followed a forked road to a security booth where he showed his ID to two serious-looking corrections officers.
The Frenzy Wolves Page 7