by Amy Andrews
Layne released his white knuckled grip from the steering wheel, and paced around the perimeter of the boat. Leaning over each side, he thoroughly scanned his eyes over the surface of the water. Not initially seeing anything, he returned to the helm. His hand gripped the ignition key, and he spoke a silent quick prayer before turning the key. The engines did not fail him, as both props churned the water like hot knifes slicing through butter.
He steered the boat in a wide and inward moving circular pattern. Spotting a black mass in the water, he pulled the boat up along side it and cut the engine. Taking his flashlight, he shined the beam down into the water. “Oh, fuck,” he said, as he spotted the lifeless body of a man, floating face down. He quickly realized that what he hit was a person, not a manatee or a pilot whale. Reaching over the side of the boat, he leaned over as far as he could, and stretched his arm out to its limit. His fingertips barely reached the floating, lifeless mass.
In a panic, he scanned the boat and spotted a fishing gaff. Grabbing it, he used the handle end, not the business end, to pull the person in closer. The body came to rest against the edge of the boat. Layne fisted a wad full of flannel shirt in his hand, and floated the limp, downward facing body towards the back of the boat. Upon getting it there, he lowered the dive ladder, gripped with both hands, and heaved.
The man was heavy, but Layne was able to get him onto the deck of the boat with a second try. The lifeless body landed on the deck with a thud, as a wave of water splashed over Layne’s shoes and pant legs. Placing the man on his back, Layne immediately saw the clean slice running through the man’s neck and quickly assessed that the poor dude was dead long before he hit him with the boat. Judging the rigidity of the body, Layne knew that he hadn’t been dead long. He knelt down, and rolled the body towards him to check the pockets of his khaki cargo pants. Feeling his back left pocket, Layne pulled out a tan wallet.
Opening the wallet and pulling out the Florida driver’s license, Layne said, “Sonny Holden, huh? Well, Sonny, I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, unless you’re the asshole I’m out here looking for.” Placing the license back into the wallet, Layne replaced the wallet where he found it. Taking his hand, he ran it over Sonny’s face to close his opened eyes. “Rest in peace, Sonny,” Layne said somberly.
Layne returned to the helm, bumped the ignition, and grabbed the wheel. Judging from the direction of the wind, Sonny must have been killed further South. His fresh corpse carried North by the current.
Wanting to make sure he didn’t miss anything, or hit any other bodies that might be possibly floating in the water, he moved along the coast at wake speed. He kept his eyes glued to the binoculars for any signs of movement, or anything suspicious.
Spotting a worn dock behind a small cabin up ahead, Layne focused his binoculars in and around that area. “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, as he set the binoculars down, and eased the throttle forward.
Layne killed the engine before he reached the dock, and drifted up next to it. He had spotted Tessa tied to one of the docks support posts. Her head lulled unconsciously limp, with the rising tide lapping just below her shoulders. In a matter of twenty more minutes, she would drown in the rising tide.
He had to fight his instincts, that were pushing him to jump into the water to free her, but it was a stupid plan. He would get her out of there more quickly if he had something to cut her binds with.
Spying a fish gutting knife surrounded by a pool of blood on the dock, Layne put two and two together to figure out that this must have been where Sonny met his demise. If Sonny ended up in the water with his throat slit, and Tessa was here bound, that could only mean one thing. The psycho was still at large.
Layne jumped off the boat and onto the dock to retrieve the knife. He could use it to cut the rope. He prayed to the Heavens up above that he wasn’t too late. Hopefully she wasn’t slit like his friend on the boat here.
As Layne squatted down to pick up the knife, he heard quick rushing footfalls coming towards him from the start of the dock. Palming the business end of the knife in hand, he stood erect, keeping it concealed by tucking his arm tight to his leg, and turning the backside of his hand to face outward.
Detective Thorne had his gun drawn, and pointed at Layne. “You?” he questioned. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, with and emphasis on the word, “you.”
With the same emphasis, and without skipping a beat, Layne responded with the exact same words, that had an entirely different meaning with the way they were spoken. “The more appropriate question here, Thorne, is what the fuck, are you doing here?”
Smirking, Detective Thorne said one word. “Revenge.”
Revenge, Layne thought. What the fuck is he talking about, revenge? It was clear to Layne that Thorne was not interested in having a Dr. Phil sit down discussion about it, considering he had a gun pointed at him. Doing the only thing he could think of as a distraction tactic, Layne quickly yelled, “hey, Lenny, I got him over here!” while peering around Detective Thorne. It was all that he could come up with, that would give him a split second advantage.
Detective Thorne turned his head for a brief moment, and realized that Layne was just bluffing. In that brief moment, Layne threw the knife towards Thorne’s trigger hand. As the knife was sailing through the air, Thorne turned back towards Layne. Just as the blade of the knife caught the back of Thorne’s hand, he jerked, which threw off his aim, but he managed to squeeze off two successive shots.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - CONFRONTATION
Lennysaw a soft pool of flickering light spilling from a small window, in the not too far off distance. With a closer look, he saw another more harsh light bobbing at a farther distance, combined with the faint humming of a motor. His targets had to be somewhere close. His Timex said he had 5 hours left. He knew that in these types of games, it always came down to the wire, so he was willing to bet that the Lincoln crashed on the side of the Alley wasn’t in the initial plan. His adrenaline levels spiked at the realization that this was nearing the end of the line, and he allowed the toxic fuel of anger and revenge to take over him. It was either that, or sob like a damn baby. He would stave the sobbing off until Tessa was back in his arms. For now, he’ll take anger and revenge, thank you very much. It is much more conducive to thumping someone’s ass, and he needed to be in ass thumping mode, right quick. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs, as the anger built up pressure inside of him, like a pent up volcano. Thinking better of it, he set his duffle down, and performed some martial arts katas to work off the steam and center himself. Better to get the rage out now, than to have it overwhelm him at an inopportune moment. He needed to go into this thinking the worst, but hoping for the best of scenarios. He wasn’t scared of the fight, he was looking forward to taking his anger out on someone, and excited to put an end to this all. More than anything, he wanted to get his Tessa back home, safe and sound. The psycho better hope she was still alive, or by the time he was finished with him, he would beg for death if she weren’t. He would make damn sure of that. At the mere thought of it, the words long, slow, and torturous fired through Lenny’s mind.
After several minutes of katas, Lenny’s muscles loosened and lengthened.. His heart beat slow and strong. His mind became focused and centered. His breath was deep and slow, almost meditative. With his eyes closed through the motions, he took deep breaths in through his nose, and out through his mouth. The anger and rage lifted off of him, like a weight had been removed from his chest. It was still there, but had been compartmentalized and contained. Finishing his kata, Lenny brought his palms together at his chest, with his fingertips pointing towards the sky, and took a bow, facing the direction of the lights in the distance. He squinted his eyes and glared, as a smirk crossed his lips. The bow was typically made as a sign of respect. It was a habit, as it was made at the end of all kata forms. He, however, had zero respect for this opponent. He would not underestimate him, but he did not respect him. Anyone that did, or was capable of do
ing the things that this man did, was nothing but a monster, and did not deserve any respect. He was not only a monster, but a coward. An abuser of women? Let’s see how this asshole fares against a real opponent.
Lenny squatted down, and unzipped his duffle bag. Grabbing a handful of extra gun ammunition, his pockets became weighted with the cylindrical lead, as he dumped it from his fist. Continuing to feel around the bag, he felt the length of rope that he had taken back at the tree by the smoldering campfire. He wound the length of rope around his left palm, careful to leave his knuckles free, like a boxer wraps his in tape, prior to slipping on his boxing gloves. The rope was comfortably snug, but not restrictive. He stuffed the tail end of the rope underneath the rows that had been wound around his palm.
The last thing Lenny did before he closed the duffle bag, was pop a piece of Wrigley’s into his dry mouth, before stuffing an unopened pack into his back pocket. The cool and sweet spearmint danced around his taste buds, and coated his throat with each swallow.
Grabbing the duffle handles and standing erect, Lenny quickly scanned the area for a good hiding spot. Settling on a dense cluster of palmettos, he placed the duffle deep within the bowels of the vegetation to concealed it. Now was the time he needed to move unencumbered by the weight and bulkiness of the bag.
Lenny moved as stealthily as a cat, towards the flickering light. Taking full advantage of his environment, he used the tree trunks as cover. Moving from one to the next, the light grew closer and brighter, until the cabin was about a half mile away, but in clear view.
Hearing a gun shot pierce the night’s silence, Lenny’s pulse started to race. His arms and legs pumped up and down, back and forth, quickly closing the distance between him and the cabin.
#
The first shot caught Layne in the upper left triceps. Good. Not his trigger arm. He did not feel the chunk of flesh that was ripped from him through the river of adrenaline that was coursing through his veins. The second shot was a complete miss. Right after the first shot connected, at the precise moment Thorne jerked from the pain of the penetration of the knife into his hand, Layne ran full speed at him. Their bodies collided. Layne grabbed the wrist of Thorne’s trigger hand, did a one eighty degree turn, and gave him an elbow smash to the face. Thorne’s head snapped back, and blood sprayed from his nose. Thorne’s hand released the gun, as he fell to one knee. Layne kicked the gun towards the beginning of the dock. He pulled the knife from Thorne’s hand, and tossed it back down towards the end of the dock, where he had come from.
Not being one to give up a fight, Thorne sucker punched Layne right between the legs. Layne instantly released Thorne’s wrist, and bent over with both arms cradling his shooting pain soaked abdomen. Thorne scrambled back from where he came, to get his gun. Layne closed in quick behind him, and bear tackled him before he got a chance to pick it up. The two men went flying into the grassy yard area, and the fight was on. Layne could have easily pulled his gun on him, but wanted to get in a few licks of his own. He deserved that much from getting punched in the family jewels, and for getting his new tattoo fucked up with a bullet graze. This asshole deserved a couple of pops, not only for his own satisfaction, but for his fallen comrade, Detective Kate Leopold. And for Tessa. Shit, Tessa, he thought. In the midst of all the action, he almost forgot that she was teetering perilously close to drowning, if she wasn’t already gone. He was going to have to make this quick.
As the two man roll came to a stop, they separated and stood facing each other with their hands in boxing position. Thorne already looked terrible. The blood flow from his nose had receded, but it was all over his mouth, chin, and shirt. Layne took a swing at Thorne’s weak spot, his already bloodied nose. Bobbing his head out of the path of the swing, Thorne stepped in to take a shot at Layne’s abdomen. He connected, and it wasn’t anything to laugh about, but Layne’s rock hard abs absorbed the blow. On retraction of his fist, Thorne shook off the sting, because it felt like he hit a cement block. Layne grabbed him in a headlock, and gave him a good kidney punch. He felt Thorne grow weak in the knees after that shot. Good, Layne thought. Now the bastard can piss blood for a week. Needing to get out of the headlock, Thorne turned his head and clamped his teeth down on Layne’s arm flesh. He bit down so hard that he broke skin. Layne yelled with pain, as he felt Thorne’s teeth penetrate and break his flesh, causing him to let go of the hold he had on Thorne’s head. The two of them squared off, walking in a circle, calculating what each of their next moves would be.
Lenny came rushing around the corner of the cabin. Confusion set in at the sight that he was seeing. Pulling his pistol from the holster, he trained it between the two of them.
Both men stepped out of arms reach of each other.
Thorne pointed at Layne. “Detective Shane, shoot him! I caught him! He’s the one that abducted Tessa!”
“Oh, fuck that, bro!” Layne responded, throwing his hands up in disgust. “Lenny, it’s not me, it’s him! You know me, man. You know I would never do anything like this.!To you, to Tessa, …to Katy!”
Lenny glanced down towards the ground. He knew instantly, without question which one of them was telling the truth. Without taking his eyes off of Thorne, Lenny sheathed his gun. Slowly closing the distance between the three of them, Lenny turned to Layne, “Layne, is my wife alive?”
“She’s still alive, Lenny, but she doesn’t have much time left,” he said.
“So, she’s not safe?” Lenny asked.
“Not yet, Lenny, but she can be if you got this?” he said.
“Oh, I got this,” Lenny said with a hot flash of rage in his voice.
Lenny grabbed Thorne by the throat with one hand. Layne took that as his cue to move double time to get Tessa out of the water.
Layne ran down the dock as fast as his legs would carry him. Stooping to pick up the knife, as he ran past it. With the handle firmly in his grasp, he jumped in the water feet first. Putting the handle of the knife in his mouth, he had to take about ten strokes to reach Tessa. Diving down into the water, he started sawing through the ropes from the bottom up. She was still unconscious, and he didn’t want her unnecessarily falling forward while he was still working under water. By the time he got to the last of the ropes, the water had risen to the bottom of her chin. Five more minutes, and she would have not been so lucky. Layne cut the last rope, and turned her over onto her back. He nestled her chin underneath his elbow to keep her head above water, and hauled her back to the boat. Getting her up onto the deck was much easier that getting Sonny up there, because she weighed a lot less. Once on deck, he hoisted her over his shoulder, and took her to the front of the boat. He gently sat her in the captains chair, and pulled the tape from her mouth. She was still warm, and her clothes weren’t soaked in blood. Good sign. Gently tapping her cheeks, he called to her, “Tessa. Tessa. Tessa, wake up.”
A moan escaped her lips, and her eyes fluttered open. Layne grasped her by the chin and held eye contact with her. “Tessa, you’re going to be safe now. Me and Lenny are here.”
“Lenny?” she asked in bewilderment.
“Yes, Lenny is here,” Layne said. Starting the boat, he said to her, “I want you to take the boat and move offshore a little. If anything goes wrong, you get out of here, understand?”
Layne could tell that she was still quite shaken. “Tessa, don’t look at the back of the boat. There is a man back there. I found him in the water.”
Tessa’s eyes went wide. “Okay, okay,” she stammered. “Don’t look in the back of the boat,” her voice quivered.
Layne’s feet landed solidly on the dock, as Tessa started to pull away.
#
Thorne grasped both of his hands around Lenny’s wrist and squeezed, in an attempt to loosen the choke hold.
Lenny’s face contorted with a twisted anger as he spoke on word through his gritted teeth. “Why?”
Through gasping breaths, Thorne managed to get a word out. “Choking.”
Lenny couldn’t h
elp himself, he needed to know the answer to his question. He threw Thorne by his neck, to the ground.
“Talk!” Lenny demanded.
Thorne was coughing and loud drags of air were being sucked into his lungs as he tried to catch his breath.
“My real name,” Thorne said in a raspy voice, “is Bobby, or more properly, Robert Verde, Jr.
Lenny’s eyes grew wide, then narrowed with a slight bit of confusion, as his brows furrowed.
Thorne continued on. “When I was growing up, my mom wasn’t around. She left when I was four years old. She was a junkie bitch whore. It was just me and my Dad. When I was eight years old, YOU put my Dad in prison. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I was bounced through the system.” Thorne’s voice started to escalate with rage, “foster home after foster home. You have no idea what it was like!” he yelled. “ I was beaten, starved, and abused, and it was all YOUR fault! You needed to pay for what you did to me, for what you took from me!” Regaining his composure, and lowering his voice, Thorne said, “taking my Dad away from me made my life a living hell Lenny, so here I am to take away what you love.” Looking over at the water, Thorne saw that Layne was able to get Tessa untied and to safety. Locking stares with Lenny, Thorne snarled, “you may have gotten lucky this time, but you won’t be so lucky next time.”
Thorne should have shut up while he was ahead. Lenny actually felt sorry for him, but only for a minute. He wasn’t sorry for putting Robert Verde Senior, serial murderer, in prison, but he did feel sorry that his parent’s actions and lifestyles ended up ruining the kid’s life. It was disheartening that he had projected his displaced anger onto Lenny, when if anything, he should have projected these feelings of rage and anger towards his Mother and Father. Clearly, he was a psychopath. Like Father, like Son.