Family Honor

by Jamie Hill

  He pulled a bigger knife from his pocket. "I know you're gonna be whoever I want you to be. I'm gonna call you 'Mama', and you'll call me 'Dickie'. If you don't like it, our little game will end a lot sooner. It'll be disappointing for me, but I can live with it." He smiled. "Not sure you can."

  "Okay," she agreed. "I'll play along."

  His smiled widened. "I thought you might. Get out of bed. I want to see what you're wearing."

  Mel glanced under the covers then up at him. "Which would be not much. I'll just use this sheet…." She pulled it free and tried to wrap it around her chest.

  "Leave the sheet. Get up."

  Shit! Mel tossed her legs over the side of the bed and spotted the teddy Nate bought her on the dresser. She pointed to it. "Look what I just got, Dickie. Wouldn't you like to see me in this?"

  He glanced at the lingerie then looked at her. "Did you wear it for him? Did he peel you out of it before he fucked you?"

  "I've never worn it. Look, the tags are still on. Let me put it on for you."

  He nodded. Mel stood, humiliated by her nakedness, but forcing herself to move. She grabbed the teddy and clutched it to her breasts. "I need to pee."

  "Then pee. Nobody will notice the wet spot on the carpet by the time I'm done with you."

  She scowled. "If you want me to play nice then you better do the same. Let me use the bathroom. I'll come right back out."

  "Whatever." He waved a hand. "Leave the door open."

  Mel hurried to the bathroom and used the toilet, feeling more degraded by the minute as Webb leaned against the doorway and watched. She finished and washed her hands, then climbed into the teddy and prayed it fit. It did, but it barely covered the important parts.

  "I like that." He stood behind her and examined her reflection in the mirror.

  He stunk of piss and beer. The odor made her gag. When he placed a hand on her shoulder she shrank away and he grabbed a handful of her hair.

  "Stand up, bitch!"

  Mel gathered her courage. If she was going to survive this, she'd have to be strong. In her sternest voice she commanded, "Don't speak to me that way Dickie. Show your mother some respect."

  He yanked her hair and sneered, his face mere inches from hers. "I'll show you all the respect you deserve, Mother. You're a whore. You were always a whore. You fucked Daddy and you fucked me, but that still wasn't enough. You brought strangers into the house and fucked them, too. Whore." He raised his knife to the chunk of hair he clutched.

  "I'm sorry!" She called out. "I was bad. I was wrong, so wrong. You were my baby and I should have taken care of you, protected you. Let me protect you now. I can help you. I can make things better."

  He looked into the reflection of her eyes. "There's only one way to do that. Every time I kill you, I feel better. Oh, it hurts a little at first, but then sweet satisfaction pours over me, and I get some relief. For a while, anyway. Then the urges come back, and it starts all over again."

  She watched him through the mirror. "So all the women you killed were stand-ins for me? Donna, Rhonda, Linda … and the last one, what was her name?"

  "The last one you know about," he sneered. "Her name was Sissy. She was a beauty. I'm glad I got my pictures back. I really hated to lose my pictures. Daddy got rid of most of my stuff, but I got to keep my pictures."

  Mel grew bolder. "Sissy was a beauty? She was freaking fifty years old! What were you thinking choosing women that old? They didn't look like me at all."

  He pressed his cheek against hers. "Exactly the point. You're beautiful, but you were a lousy mother. I'm looking for someone who might be more … 'motherly'. Bake cookies, and all that. So far, the bitches have all been the same."

  "I can bake cookies," she offered. "You can help me. We'll make great cookies. What kind do you like? Chocolate chip?"

  "It's too late. I told you, you're all the same. You'll have to die like they did." He jerked Mel by the arm out of the bathroom, and threw her to the bedroom floor.

  It was then she noticed the pile of things by his chair. Several more knives, a bundle of ropes, and an old, white cheerleading uniform folded carefully on top of the stack.

  * * * *

  Nate leveled his weapon at Becker. "Let him go, Sam."

  "I don't think so. Stone's my ticket out of here. Small, compact, easy to transport." She spoke in Stone's ear. "Thanks for making it so easy on me, Henry."

  He struggled under her grasp. "I trusted you, Sam. How could you do this?"

  "Money talks and bullshit walks, my friend. You and I are out of here. We'll see if this bullshit special agent walks after us or not."

  "You're not going anywhere." Nate eyed her coolly. "It's over. Put the gun down, and things will go easier for you. Drag it out any longer, and you're not going to like what happens."

  She scowled at Nate. "I really won't like splattering poor little Henry's brains all over the wall. It'll positively ruin my shoes. But we do what we have to."

  "I won't like that either," Stone muttered.

  "Shut up." Becker nudged him with the gun.

  The stairwell door opened again and a voice called, "SWAT team, Becker, drop your weapon!"

  "Fat chance!" She yelled. "Stone and I are getting out of here." She took a step backwards, dragging Stone with her.

  "You can leave through that door," the man said, "but Stone stays here. We won't come after you."

  Bullshit, Nate thought, but kept quiet.

  Becker laughed. "I'm so sure. You're just going to let me waltz right out of here."

  The man's voice lowered. "They're not, but I am. You aren't the only one on Burton Webb's payroll. I'm offering you a way out. If you're too stupid to take it, I won't sleep any worse tonight. But Mr. Webb suggested I try."

  Becker appeared confused. "What are you talking about?"

  Nate couldn't see who was around the corner, but he heard every word.

  "Stupid bitch. We don't have time to go through this again. More cops are on their way down here. I stalled to buy you maybe five minutes. You've wasted most of that. This is your last chance to get out of here. Leave Stone and scoot out that door. Keep on walking. You won't be able to get to your car, so you'll have to figure that out for yourself. Time is running out. Go!"

  She looked back and forth from the stairwell to Nate. Backing Stone up to the door, Becker opened it and shoved Stone to the floor. She darted out the door and it closed behind her.

  "She's getting away!" Nate yelled. He ran to Stone and helped him up, then reached for the door knob.

  The man from the stairwell stepped out in full SWAT gear. "She won't get very far." He pulled off his mask and Nate recognized Captain Gray.

  "What the fuck?" Nate swore.

  He heard a voice yell "Clear!" from behind the door. Gray motioned for him to open it. Nate did, and saw Becker in the custody of a dozen SWAT team members.

  Nate leaned against the doorjamb and caught his breath. "What the fuck," he muttered again.

  Gray smiled. "The only true thing I said was calling Becker stupid." He looked at her. "Webb doesn't care about you, you foolish dimwit. You're on your own from here on out. No one in this building is going to lift a finger to go out of their way for you. You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us." He looked at the men who held her arms. "Get her out of my sight."

  The team members brushed past Nate and Stone in single file, leading Becker away. Gray took up the rear. "Nice work Agent Willis. Come on up, we'll have an EMT take a look at your head."

  "I'm okay," Nate mumbled, still in shock with reality slowly setting in. He looked at Stone who was grinning wildly.

  "That was frightening and fucking amazing, all at the same time!"

  "Yeah." Nate couldn't seem to clear his head. Maybe I do need to have it looked at.

  "Come on." Stone directed him to follow Gray. "Get your skull checked, and call Mel with the good news."

  "Good news," Nate agreed.

  Stone's grin still reached fro
m ear to ear. "Think I might get a medal?"

  * * * *

  Mel stared at the knives, wondering how she might grab one of them.

  "Get up, Mama. That's for our game later." Webb yanked her arm toward the chair. "Sit here. I think I'd like to see you in pigtails. Do it."

  "I, uh, need a comb."

  "Fuck the comb. Do it."

  She parted her hair with her fingers and tried to divide it evenly. She didn't really care, but figured every minute she spent doing that was another minute alive, and not in bed with Dick Webb. "Shall I braid them?"

  "Yeah!" He smiled.

  "I'll need some rubber bands. They're in the kitchen."

  "Too bad. Go without."

  "Um, there might be some in the bathroom."

  He eyed the small bathroom, then looked at her. "Forget it. You're just trying to be a pain in the ass. I'm bored with you already. Gonna fuck you now and get it over with. Put on the cheerleader vest and skirt."

  Mel's fingers wove her pigtails into quick braids. "Dickie, look. Aren't these pretty? You said you liked braids. I want to make you happy."

  "Uniform." He pointed to it with the toe of his boot.

  "I just need a couple bands—"

  He grabbed the front of her teddy and ripped it off. The thin fabric shredded and tore, leaving Mel naked in front of him. "I said, uniform."

  She reached for the vest and slipped it on. The skirt was too tight and it clung to her waist, not hiding anything. She could tell by the look in his eye that didn't matter. He was already thinking about the next part of their game.

  Something caught Mel's eye and she glanced at the dresser nearest the bathroom. Her clothes from the night before were stacked there neatly. She hadn't done that. Had Webb?

  Nate. Nate had done it. He'd also left his back-up gun in the drawer there the night before. Had he taken it that morning? She had one chance to find out.

  If she dived for it and the weapon wasn't there, Webb would be furious. He's going to be unhappy either way, she decided. I'm not going down without a fight. He might rape her, and he might kill her. She intended to inflict as much damage in return as she could.

  Mel inhaled, let the breath out, and exclaimed, "Hey, I just remembered. I have some ponytail bands right here." She dashed forward, grabbed the drawer handle and yanked. The small black handgun winked at her when a ray of sunlight hit the barrel.

  "Get the fuck back here!" Webb reached for her.

  Mel released the safety and spun around, firing.

  * * * *

  Nate dialed Mel's cell number and it went straight to voicemail.

  "You need to let me clean this." The buxom, red-haired EMT lowered Nate's hand and pressed a gauze pad to his temple.

  "I'm okay," he insisted. "I need to get ahold of Mel."

  "She's going to be excited to hear from you! You and Stone cleared her name. You're heroes!"

  He pushed redial and hit speakerphone. The voicemail message sounded again. "I have to go," he told the woman.

  "I'm almost done. It's not a deep cut, but head wounds always bleed a lot. You might have a slight concussion. I'd recommend going to the hospital and getting checked out." She pressed a bandage on his head.

  "That's fine, thanks." He managed to escape her grasp and flee the small room.

  Stone and Reeder waited for him. "You okay?" Reeder asked.

  "I'm fine, but I can't reach Mel. She should be answering her phone. She knew I was going to call."

  Reeder waved a hand. "She's probably in the shower, or watching that blabber talk stuff on TV."

  Nate caught his eye, imploring the man to hear him. "I don't think so. One last time, I'm asking you to trust my gut. Something's wrong."

  Reeder nodded. "Stone, go with him. Lights and sirens. I'll send two black and whites with you."

  "Let's go!" Stone agreed.

  "Thank you!" Nate called, and raced to the door.

  The black and whites let him lead the way. Nate flipped on all the bells and whistles the bureau car had to offer and practically flew to Mel's house.

  "It looks quiet," Stone said as they screeched to a halt in the driveway.

  "Too quiet." Nate pulled his weapon and reached for his keys, unlocking the front door. "Mel?" he called loudly.

  For one brief moment, he hoped like hell she wasn't grilling something on the patio. The four cops rushing in behind them probably wouldn't see the humor. "Mel!" he yelled again.

  "Bedroom," she finally answered.

  He exchanged nervous glances with Stone as they crept down the hall. "You decent, honey?" Nate peered around the corner.

  Mel stood, half naked, in an ill-fitting cheerleader's uniform. Dick Webb's body was sprawled across the bed, three bullet holes in his chest oozing blood. She gazed at Nate and the gun in her hand began to shake.

  "Son-of-a-bitch!" Nate exclaimed. He took a step closer to her. "It's okay, Mel. Give me the gun."

  Stone felt for Webb's pulse. "He's dead." He glanced at Mel and Nate. "I've never said this before in my life, but good fucking riddance."

  "No truer words." Nate removed his gun from Mel's hand and folded her into his arms. "Oh my God, baby. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Anger welled from deep within, and he pulled away to look in Mel's face. "Did he touch you? Did that sick bastard lay one finger on you?"

  She shook her head. "No. Not really. He pushed me around a little. Told me about the big plans he had for me. We were just getting to the gist of it when I remembered your back-up gun."

  He pulled her tight again and laughed. "I'm glad you remembered it and I didn't! Otherwise, I would have taken it this morning."

  She nodded and let him hold her.

  Stone cleared his throat. "Um, guys?" He nodded to the four cops in the doorway. He grabbed Mel's robe from the hook on the closet door and handed it to Nate.

  "Thanks." Nate wrapped it around her. He told Mel, "Let's get your statement and get this ass wipe out of here. Then we'll clean you up and get some decent clothes."

  "Okay." Mel slipped her arms into the robe and cinched it around her waist.

  "Hey!" Stone piped up. "While you were lounging around in bed this morning, Willis and I were busy saving your ass. They're calling us heroes, even."

  She raised her brows at Nate.

  He smiled and tossed a quick glance toward Webb. "You saved your own ass, babe. We just helped clear your name. Becker confessed to everything and is being held in custody."

  "Becker?" Mel blinked, then must have noticed his head. "Oh, what happened?" She touched the bandage gently.

  "She clocked me," Nate admitted. "I'm fine, just wounded my pride. Let's leave that part of the story out when we tell our grandchildren, okay?"

  Mel grinned. "You got it."

  He curled an arm around her waist and led her past the officers to the other room.

  Stone followed. "Grandchildren?"

  * * * *

  Mel and her father sat in a small conference room next to the IA administration office on Friday afternoon. She'd spent the morning being debriefed about the shooting and its aftermath. Now, her hearing was underway. She brushed lint off her rarely-worn skirt and picked at a tiny string nervously.

  Cappie caught her hand and squeezed. "Relax. Hank Reeder told you this is a formality. You've already been cleared. IA needs to tidy things up in their own way."

  "I know." She sighed. "It's just been one hell of a week."

  "Not all of it was bad," he teased.

  "You're right. Highs and lows. But I'm ready to get off the roller coaster. Some peace and quiet sounds good right about now."

  "Understood." He squeezed her hand again. "How was the hotel last night?"

  She smiled. "It was nice. I know I need to go home soon. Henry promised me the mess was cleaned up. I'm just not ready to face it yet."

  "You could have stayed at my place, you know."

  She shot him a yeah, right look.

  "I told you, I like Nate. I hope he sti
cks around."

  "He will." She felt a chill and rubbed her upper arms.

  Henry Stone joined them, dressed in his best Sunday suit.

  "Look at you." Mel smiled. "How did it go?"

  "I clean up pretty good, don't I?" He dusted off the arm of his jacket. "My testimony? Piece of cake. They asked like three questions. You know this is just a formality, don't you?"

  "I know. I just hate waiting."

  "What are you waiting for?" Brady Marshall entered the room, also dressed in a sharp black suit.

  Mel stood and gave him a hug. "For this to be over with. Thanks for coming, Brady."

  He hugged her then took a step back and smiled. "Anytime. I told them what a rotten person you are, how you kick puppies and drown little children—or was that drown puppies and kick little children?"

  "Jerk." She swatted his chest.

  "Nah." He leaned in to her, still grinning. "My report was truly glowing. A saint among us, that type of thing. Not sure what Jack's going to say. He worked with you longer than I did."

  "Jack's here?"

  "He's in there now."

  "Aw." Mel felt tears well. She'd asked Brady and Henry to testify. Jack must have volunteered.

  "He's a good guy," Cappie acknowledged. "Never see him at Morgan's, though. Heard he had another kid."

  "That would be why," Marshall replied. "Four kids don't leave a man much breathing room. I'm sure his evenings are well-planned."

  Cappie looked at Mel. "I'd settle for one, thank you very much."

  She raised her hands in an exaggerated shrug. "Talk to Nate. He's the one who hyperventilates when the subject comes up."

  Everyone laughed. "I noticed," Cappie said.

  Henry started to say something but Mel shot him a look and cut it off. She'd tell her father that she and Nate had started discussing children, but now wasn't the time.

  Jack Dunlevy entered the room and all eyes turned in his direction. "Where's the funeral?" His suit was as dark and formal as the rest.