by Matt Hilton
I didn’t lower my gun.
‘Hunter, I swear to God. Shoot that man and I’ll make sure you burn for it.’
I snapped my gaze on Chambers. He was unwavering as he aimed his Glock at me.
I was in the zone, where the red mist descends and all that you’re aware of is the threat before you. Chambers was a good man with – in my eyes – a misguided outlook. I firmed my finger on the trigger.
‘Don’t do it. I will fire.’
I looked from Chambers back to Samuel and the pig was gloating.
Witherspoon advanced a few steps and he was adjacent to Samuel now, his gun threatening, but his eyes were on me. ‘Hunter,’ he whispered harshly. ‘Drop your weapon, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Now!’ Chambers screeched.
I lowered my weapon.
But it wasn’t because of the plea of one cop or the demand of the other, but because Jay had laid her hand on my wrist.
‘It’s over,’ she said softly. ‘Don’t ruin your life because of this monster.’
I nodded.
Gumball lights flooded the scene as police cruisers came screaming into the lot. Uniformed officers piled out of their cars, weapons trained on Samuel. When I squinted at the flickering lights, I adjusted so that I was again looking at Chambers. He was sneering, but not at me: he was moving in on Samuel now.
A snort of disdain left me, or maybe it was pure disgust.
Samuel was forced down on the ground, his fingers laced at the back of his head as uniforms swarmed over him, frisking him for weapons. I saw two knives come out of his pockets and dropped into plastic evidence bags. Another cop retrieved his dropped gun, holding it by the trigger guard.
As I moved back, both Jay and Nicole wrapped their arms around me, laying their heads against mine. They were both uttering reassurances and thanks but I couldn’t make sense of them. I was still bubbling with anger. I wanted to see Samuel Logan dead, but, now that the cops had cuffed him and rolled him on to his backside, his eyes had shaken off the effects of trauma and narcotics alike and were brimming with insane humour. If he’d vocalised it, I swear I’d have shot the fucker there and then and Chambers could go and fuck himself.
Perhaps she felt the tremor of rage that flooded through my frame, because Jay said, ‘He’s not worth it, Joe.’
She was right. If I shot him in cold blood, where was the satisfaction in that?
‘How is your father doing?’ I said.
Jay stiffened, then ran to where her mother was tending Jameson Walker. Jay threw herself at him, kissing him repeatedly on the cheeks and forehead. I caught the man’s eyes and though he was still a little stunned he had shaken off most of the knock he’d taken. Now he appeared bemused by the hero worship his daughter lavished on him. It was a priceless moment and the only bright spot that I could find.
Nicole was still holding on to me.
‘What about you, Nicole? Are you happy with the way things have ended?’
‘I told you what I thought earlier,’ she said. ‘I haven’t changed my mind.’
Looking down at her I saw something reflected in her eyes. It was my face, but it was definitely her will.
‘Lend me your gun,’ she said.
‘No. No way.’
‘Please,’ she said.
‘No.’
Samuel was hauled up to his feet and was partly supported, partly dragged towards one of the police cruisers. I was glad he was being taken away, because I was tempted to accede to Nicole’s demands.
The thought passed, and did so from Nicole’s mind too. She collapsed against me, weeping in relief.
Chambers and Witherspoon approached.
Though Chambers’ face was rigid, his eyebrows arched, it wasn’t his look that perturbed me but that of his partner. Witherspoon looked embarrassed. Worse than that, he looked ashamed.
‘Please, Miss Challinor,’ Chambers said. ‘I need you to stand aside.’
‘What’s going on?’ she asked.
‘Just do as he says, Nicole,’ I said and gently pressed her away.
‘What are you doing?’ Nicole demanded of the detective.
Chambers ignored her. ‘I’m going to need your weapon, Hunter. Please place it on the ground and take a step back.’
Nicole moved towards me again, but she addressed Chambers. ‘You can’t do this.’
‘Nicole,’ I said gently. ‘Just let him do his job.’
I placed my SIG down and Chambers offered me a sour smile.
This time he did read me my rights.
‘Is there any chance I get to share a cell with Samuel Logan?’
44
Samuel watched from where he was seated in the back of a police cruiser. The cop the vehicle was assigned to scowled down at him, eyeing with distaste the blood that was pooling on the scuffed vinyl seat. Samuel understood that was the only reason he hadn’t been taken away to lock-up before now. A duty of care existed even when a prisoner was a wanted murderer: the cops were awaiting the arrival of an ambulance so that his wounds could be tended to. Samuel wasn’t bothered about that; he was too engrossed in what was happening across the lot.
Joe Hunter was being frisked for other weapons. His handgun had already been taken away by the young cop who had also arrested him. Now Samuel saw a wicked-looking knife disgorged from Hunter’s right boot. The man was a fucking walking arsenal, but it looked like the police had now seized everything. He recalled that the man could fight, so wasn’t totally without means of defending himself, but even carrying the dramatic wounds he did, Samuel was confident he could take him.
Maybe they’ll put us in the same holding cell, and we’ll see.
Samuel scanned the faces around him. There were cops everywhere now. Also guests had come out of the hotel and were standing in the forecourt watching the proceedings with ghoulish fascination. Some cops were speaking with them, identifying witnesses. He could see no sign of Jay Walker or Nicole Challinor. He was disgruntled that they weren’t around to witness what he planned next, but it was only a mild sensation. His fixation had jumped to another more worthy recipient.
He stared at Joe Hunter.
Hunter stared back.
Samuel laughed.
‘Keep it down in there.’ The cop standing guard banged his hand on the roof of the cruiser.
Samuel spat bloody saliva on the Perspex partition.
The cop leaned close to the window, which was cracked open a quarter-inch. ‘Do us all a favour, asshole. Hurry up and bleed to death.’
Exsanguination was a very real possibility. Blood pulsed from his wounds. Also, Samuel wasn’t sure that his skull was in one piece after the crack he’d taken from Hunter’s gun butt, and his previously broken rib felt more malformed than it had before rolling about on the floor. He was in bad shape. Anyone else, he assumed, would be unconscious due to the intense agony. Most would already be dead.
He knew that he was short of time and if he didn’t kill Hunter soon he likely would never get the opportunity.
His jailer had turned away, watching as an ambulance entered the hotel grounds, negotiating its way slowly between the other parked vehicles. Samuel’s hands were cuffed behind him, but that was good, because his body would block him should the cop turn around too soon. Samuel strained, yanking savagely. He couldn’t care less if he peeled the very skin from his hand like a glove. He continued to exert pressure, and the flesh began to tear. The blood helped make his wrists slick, except he still couldn’t free his hands.
He didn’t feel pain, but he was sickened by the thought of what was necessary, and only the unreal buzz of cocaine in his mind gave him the fortitude to go ahead with it.
He took his left thumb in the palm of his right hand.
The car must have rocked, because the cop spun around.
‘What the hell are you doing in there?’ he demanded.
Samuel was cringing and thick beads of cold sweat were streaming down his brow. He must have looked like he was sufferin
g heart failure.
‘Holy Christ! Medics! Get over here. Now!’
The cop yanked the door open and leaned in, his fingers probing at the carotid pulse in Samuel’s neck. Samuel’s flesh was slimy with sweat and the cop couldn’t pinpoint a pulse, not helped by the shuddering of the body beneath his fingers. He made the mistake of turning to look for support from the approaching medics. It was what Samuel had been waiting for. He pulled free his right hand. The bracelet was still snapped tightly to it, but the other loop was empty save for adhering shreds of skin. The cop’s gun was on his right hip and out of reach, so Samuel grabbed at the next available weapon. He pulled the canister off the cop’s utility belt, flipped open the lid and depressed the button. The contents of the pepper spray were disgorged directly into the cop’s face. He reacted by attempting to rear back out of the car, his eyelids screwed tight, mouth hanging open as saliva flooded from it. Samuel held on to the cop, used his motion to tug him up and out of the car. He dropped the pepper spray and grabbed at the cop’s belt again, this time on his right side. The cop, bewildered, senses in disarray, still had the presence of mind to protect his sidearm. He grappled to retain it. Samuel butted his forehead into the man’s face. The cop was tough, but he was in a no-win position: Samuel head-butted him again. The cop now tried to flee, but Samuel wouldn’t relinquish his hold on the gun and it was torn from its holster.
Samuel turned the gun on the fleeing cop.
Pulled the trigger.
It dry-fired.
Cop protocol, he realised. They didn’t carry a pistol charged with one in the spout. He was unfamiliar with the gun, but it was easy to work out. He racked the slide, using his left hand, and even he frowned at the mess of it. By the time he was ready to fire the cop had thrown himself down behind another cruiser, out of sight.
Samuel didn’t care: the cop was never the primary target.
He swung around to where he’d last seen Joe Hunter.
The commotion had already spread a wave of panic through the crowd, but it was still early enough that no one was ready to halt him yet. The other cops on the scene were too busy taking up positions of cover or exhorting the civilians to get down and out of the line of fire.
He had a direct line of fire on Hunter and the two detectives who’d initially arrested him. Hunter was unarmed and the cops might as well throw down their weapons, given the lack of action they were taking.
Through the mêlée Samuel marched, his right leg unsteady beneath him and trailing droplets of blood.
He grinned feverishly as he lifted the gun and aimed it at Hunter’s face.
45
I thought that Detective Chambers was an insufferable asshole, but he was a good cop really. He was doing the right thing however lopsided you looked at his actions. I’d been captured red-handed, had discharged an illegally owned handgun, so he was duty bound to take me in. It didn’t matter that I’d just saved the lives of innocent people because the letter of the law states that two wrongs don’t make a right. I knew things would be cleared up; in fact, after a trip to the station and having my version of events backed up by all the witnesses at the scene, I’d probably be kicked out without charge. Chambers was happy that he’d arrested Samuel Logan and that outweighed his dislike for people he deemed vigilantes.
Witherspoon was totally embarrassed by it all, but what could he do? He knew that his partner was doing things by the book and he could only go along with the decision to take me in. He offered me shakes of his head and a pursed mouth in condolence.
‘Like I told Nicole, Chambers is only doing his job. I don’t hold it against him.’
‘Shit, we wouldn’t have got him if it weren’t for you,’ Witherspoon said.
‘I got you thinking back there, did I?’
‘It’s why I grabbed my partner and followed you here.’ Witherspoon leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Pity I didn’t come alone. I’d’ve waited a few seconds longer before asking you to put down your weapon.’
Chambers had been signing chain of evidence dockets to be attached to evidence bags, but now he was done and turned from the uniformed officer carting away my weapons. Those pointy ears of his weren’t just for show.
‘Then I saved us all a whole bundle of shit,’ he said. ‘You do know I’ve just spared you a murder charge, Hunter?’
‘You’re all heart, Detective.’
He snorted, but then he shook his head. ‘Look. We got off to a bad start yesterday; let me see what I can do about getting you back on the street soon. Of course, to do that you’ll have to fully cooperate.’
‘Hey,’ I said. ‘I’m one of the good guys. What else do you expect?’
I couldn’t exactly feel the love in the air, but Chambers and I had just crossed the boundary. He grinned. It was an odd look on a Vulcan. I smiled back, then my smile froze in place.
Distracted by our peace-making we’d taken our eyes off Samuel for less than a minute, but it had been long enough for everything to go sour.
I caught movement near the cruiser and recognised it as a uniformed cop on his hands and knees. He was spitting and streams of mucus hung from his nostrils. I’d only to turn my head a fraction to see the white-haired businessman shambling towards me. He dragged one leg like the old Universal Studios’ Mummy, one arm extended in front of him. The other hand was a floppy mess knocking against his left thigh, and even in that instant I could see that Samuel had broken his own thumb and torn the skin from the back of his hand in his efforts to free his cuffs.
What a demented bastard.
But he was also relentless. If it wasn’t for the fact he was coming to kill me I could respect his determination.
‘Look out!’
It was Witherspoon who shouted. All around us uniformed cops were seeking refuge behind their cars, while others attempted to steer the hotel guests out of harm’s way. They should have been shooting at the goddamn killer.
Witherspoon dropped to one knee, going for his gun. It was clipped on his trouser belt, and awkward to get at under his jacket. Chambers on the other hand slapped down and came away with his gun all in one movement. He wasn’t fast enough though and Samuel fired first. The bullet knocked Chambers against me. He wheezed, making an agonised sound deep in his chest. Samuel turned the gun on Witherspoon and the older cop rolled aside with all the grace of a hippopotamus. Bullets struck the ground, sending up chips of concrete. Thankfully Witherspoon avoided the rounds but he was on his side, his gun trapped beneath him. He was in no position to return fire.
Samuel kept coming, and I was encumbered by Chambers.
‘Shit.’
‘Care to join me in hell?’ Samuel said.
I’d always expected that I’d go out with a pithy remark, but right then I’d nothing to say. Why waste my final breath on that arsehole?
‘I’d love to do this the old-fashioned way,’ Samuel said, lifting his torn hand, ‘but as you can see I’m not in my best shape at the moment.’
He aimed the pistol at me, even as other cops began shouting at him to lay down his weapon. He was beyond that now: Samuel knew that as soon as he dropped me he’d be fired upon but I could see that he no longer cared. He told me once that he wasn’t afraid to die. He wasn’t. And he was set on taking me with him.
Suddenly there was another figure standing alongside him.
I recognised the grey hooded top at much the same time as Scott Blackstock fired a round into Samuel’s side. The force of the round knocked Samuel sideways and the bullet he fired at me missed and struck the wall of the hotel.
Samuel went down on his injured leg, but he wasn’t dead yet.
Shoot him again, I wanted to yell at Scott, but Scott was too busy screaming.
‘What did you do with my wife? You bastard, tell me! What did you do with Helena?’
Blood was pulsing out of the wound in Samuel’s right side, and whatever damage had occurred inside made his right arm weak. But he still retained enough strength to bring his gun round a
nd aim it at Scott. Scott seemed oblivious to the threat and continued to demand answers. I’d tried to keep him out of harm’s way by knocking him out, but I hadn’t hit him hard enough. I owed him my life but it looked like he was going to die and there was nothing I could do to repay him.
‘Here.’
I looked down at Chambers. He was still bent in pain, but he offered me his gun.
‘Take it,’ he said.
‘Willingly,’ I said, and then emptied the entire mag into Samuel Logan’s body.
As the killer collapsed over on his back, Scott threw an incredulous look my way.
‘No! No, I need him to tell me where Helena is.’
Scott leaned in close to Samuel.
With Chambers on one side and Witherspoon offering cover from the other, we advanced on the prone man. I looked down and even after his body had been torn apart by gunfire there was still a spark of lucidity in Samuel’s gaze. He blinked at me.
‘Tell him what happened, Samuel. If there’s any pity left in your heart, tell the man what happened to his wife.’
Samuel began laughing, frothy blood popping on his lips. His voice was paper-thin, but still pitiless.
‘We’ll never know,’ he said.
46
Jay didn’t get to go home the following morning, or the day after that. In fact it was the third day following the horrific incident at the hotel before the investigation was at a point where the witnesses were free to leave. The extra time spent there didn’t jar on her the way it had previously because now she knew there was no Samuel Logan lurking in the wings. As he had passed, so had her fear. In fact it had fled before that, the moment she’d fought the monster to save her father’s life. Jay didn’t feel Nicole’s sense of satisfaction at seeing Samuel gunned down, but had to admit she was glad he was gone. She understood now that part of Nicole’s relief was due to the fact that she hadn’t succumbed to temptation and murdered the man. After they’d wept together and the old Nic was back, the two young women had laughed themselves giddy.