by Zach Lamb
When he first arrived, Greg flipped through his notebook until he found the name of the barista he was looking for. The name stood out in bold black ink with a dark circle around it like he knew who the killer was the whole time. He went straight into the shop to confront Bobby, but he wasn’t there, so he ordered a coffee and went back to his car. While the girl made his drink, he thought about asking her where Bobby lived, but if she wouldn’t or couldn’t tell him, he didn’t want her to let Bobby know somebody had been asking about him.
It was probably for the best he wasn’t at work when Greg got there. He didn’t know if he would have been able to keep his cool and not just shoot him when he walked through the door. There would have been no coming back from that with witnesses present.
The sun moved behind the trees in the park, casting long black shadows that seemed to reach out from the gates, threatening to pull anybody within reach back into the depths of the forest. Greg was about to give up for the night when a Bronco pulled up to the shop. The driver double parked in the front spaces and left his high beams on. Greg flipped the sun visor down in his car and tried to see who got out of the vehicle, but was unable. Greg started his car. A blast of warm air hit him in the face and began to cool. He rolled closer to the shopping center, trying to get a better angle from the bright lights of the SUV. The driver didn’t stay long, and when he stepped out of the store, Greg saw Bobby for the first time as a killer and wondered how he ever missed it to begin with. Bobby didn’t look in his direction. He got into his Bronco and made a U-turn. Greg pulled out behind him.
Greg tried to keep a safe distance from him so Bobby wouldn’t see him. It didn’t look like he knew he was being followed. He kept driving at a steady speed and didn’t make any sudden turns like he was preparing to run. When he interviewed Bobby, he told Greg that he lived in the subdivision behind the park and cut through to get to work faster. Greg had been following him for several miles now, so that was either a lie or Bobby had another destination in mind. The longer Greg followed him, the angrier he grew. Bobby headed in the direction of Greg’s house.
Bobby pulled off on the side of the road and killed the lights. Greg pulled into the gas station parking lot a few blocks from the entrance to his subdivision and got out of the car. He cut through the woods between the houses and the gas station and followed a well-worn path the neighborhood kids traveled on their bikes to get snacks at the convenience store.
Greg stood in the shadows of houses belonging to neighbors he never found the time to meet. He tried to keep quiet and hoped they didn’t have any dogs that would be more than willing to give up his location to everybody. Down the street, Bobby approached Greg’s house. He crossed the street two doors away from Harold and Janice’s house. Did he know them? Did he know there was a good chance somebody in that house would see him passing by and decide to find out where he was headed? Without a care in the world, he passed Greg’s hiding place. Greg could have reached out and grabbed him, but he hesitated. He wanted to know what Bobby was up to. Nobody was in the house for him to hurt. It would be okay to let him go a little further before Greg took him down. Did Bobby know Greg was waiting for him and cross the street, daring Greg to grab him? A cold chill ran down his back, and he shuddered at the thought of Bobby being that aware.
Greg inched from his hiding spot as Bobby walked up to his front door, turned the knob and walked in like he owned the place. The bastard had made a copy of their spare key and could come and go as he pleased? No, he put that key in his office the day ‘Stephen’ gave Hope a ride home. Did he leave the door unlocked when he left the house? When lights started turning on, Greg growled and emerged from the shadows. The street lamps ticked on as he crossed the street and drew his gun.
Greg skipped around the ruts in the yard and glided up the stairs without making a sound. He walked to the door, turned the knob and continued with his forward momentum. It was locked, and he almost walked face first into the door. Irritated, he looked to the sky and then through the window in the door. He fished his keys out of his pocket and eased the right one into the lock.
The door swung open and Greg quietly walked inside, leaving the door open a crack. He crept through the house, listening for anything that would let him know where Bobby was. The sound of rustling paper came from the kitchen. Greg walked around the corner and saw the intruder standing at his counter.
Greg raised the gun just as Bobby looked up. The two men’s eyes locked and Greg pulled the trigger. The clock on the wall shattered as Bobby ducked behind the island.
“Holy shit. You almost blew my damn head off. What is wrong with you?”
“Too bad I missed. Why don’t you poke your head up and give me another shot?”
“I thought you would want to at least talk a little bit, not bust in here guns a blazin’ like you’re John McClane or something.”
“Yip—”
“No. Don’t say it. You’ll only cheapen it now.”
Greg inched to the side for a better shot at Bobby, but couldn’t see anything. He didn’t look armed when he went in the house, but Greg couldn’t be sure he wasn’t waiting for him to walk around the island into the path of his waiting gun.
“Ah, come on. I gotta have some kind of a one liner,” Greg said.
“How about you’re not that bad of a guy, and I’m going to let you stand up so we can call it a truce?”
“Nah, I don’t like that one. Let’s try stand up, or I’m going to walk over there and shoot you in the face?”
“Doesn’t really have the one liner ring to it, but I’ll stand.”
Bobby stuck his hand above the island and waved it around. He stopped moving his hand and dropped all fingers, but his middle one. Greg pointed his gun at his target.
Bobby emerged slowly with his left hand still in the air. Greg smiled and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Bobby in the right shoulder, knocking him to the floor. Greg walked around the island and stood above Bobby with his gun pointed at his face.
“Ahh,” Bobby yelled in anguish. “What the hell, man? Why did you shoot me? You’re a cop. You’re supposed to say freeze or something. Damn it, that hurts.”
“You’re a murderer who is breaking and entering into my house. My need to say freeze went out the window long ago.”
Bobby rolled on the floor, holding his shoulder.
“Alleged. Alleged murderer, Detective. Plus, you left the door open, so technically I’m just entering.”
“Technically, I could shoot you right now, and they would believe you broke in here to attack me.”
“Yes, you could do that. But then you wouldn’t find out why I’m at your house.”
The gun barrel rose with his hesitation. Greg huffed and pointed the gun at Bobby’s face again.
“I assume you wanted to harm my family.”
“You know what happens when you assume, Detective. I know your family has been staying in Hawthorne County for a while. I hope it wasn’t because of the misunderstanding at the school.”
The way Bobby accented hope disgusted Greg. He pushed the gun in his hand toward Bobby and forced him to lie back against floor. He fingered the trigger and then released it and squeezed again. There was no way he would psych himself out of killing Bobby right now.
A loud crash came from upstairs, and Greg turned from Bobby as he looked up at the ceiling. Bobby pushed off the floor and pinned Greg against the wall with his left shoulder.
Greg chopped his elbow down onto the exit wound the bullet made in Bobby’s right shoulder. Bobby yelled, and Greg felt his grasp weaken. Bobby punched Greg in the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. The gun waved through the air as Greg stumbled forward.
He pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit a framed picture of him and his family. Bobby swung down on Greg’s elbow and knocked the gun from his hand.
The pistol slid under the couch, but Bobby didn’t go after it. He ran down the hallway and headed up the stairs toward the noises. Greg bent over a
nd put his head between his knees and fought for air.
Slowly, sweet morsels of air forced their way into Greg’s lungs. He pulled back, inhaling as much oxygen as his burning lungs would allow. The sudden rush of air caused him to cough. Greg worked his way to the couch and fell to his hands and knees, and felt under the couch for his firearm, but could not reach it. He stood and slid the couch over the hardwood floor, sending it into the glass coffee table and shattering it. He bent down, grabbed the gun and followed Bobby.
Greg got to the top of the stairs and waited to catch his breath. Normally, he wouldn’t be breathing as heavily from climbing the stairs, but the recent gut punch seemed to be having lingering effects. The house was as quiet as if he were alone. Goose flesh rippled across his arms and neck. Out of the three bedrooms on the second floor, Greg knew there was only one Bobby would use to hide in. Greg walked to the master bedroom, took a deep breath, flung the door open and walked in ready to shoot the first thing that moved.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Detective. Let’s not come in here firing. You don’t know who you might hit,” Bobby said, trying to hold his right hand up, but only managed to make it waist high.
His other hand pointed a gun at the head of a young brunette woman. The woman lay on Greg’s bed with arms and legs tied to the bed frame. Blood red marks wrapped around her wrists and ankles. She had been laying here for a while, fighting the entire time to get free. The bed had been pulled back from the wall, and Bobby stood behind it, shielding himself with the girl.
“What if I just shoot you now?”
“Then you better hope for a head shot. Otherwise, I’ll shoot you, and then I’m shooting this lovely lady in the face,” he said, running the barrel of his gun through her hair.
The girl screamed through the duct tape on her mouth and tried twisting herself free again.
“You’ve already taken out a clock and a picture frame. Do you think the third time will be the charm? Cause I’m a bit skeptical at this point.”
“Who is she?”
Bobby rolled his eyes and head in an exaggerated motion.
“Why do you care? How does that even matter in your situation?”
“It keeps me human. Keeps me from becoming desensitized in my job and the horrible things people like you do,” Greg said.
“Hmm. People like me? She calls herself Hannah if you believe her.”
Greg wanted to keep him talking so he would move his gun away from her head.
“Why wouldn’t you believe her?”
“Oh, you’re going to love this. She works for the local suicide prevention hotline. Those people probably don’t use their real names. She was so eager to help in my time of crisis that she broke protocol and met up with me. She just didn’t know how she was going to be helping me.”
“Let her go. She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“But she does, Detective. Or at least she did. I think she looks a lot like Shelly. How about you? Anyway, I was going to kill her and leave her here for you to find, but then you started following me, and now I have to improvise, so please bear with me.”
Greg looked closely at the woman. She did look remarkably similar to his wife. Bobby wanted him to come in and find this girl and think she was Shelly. He looked at the ceiling. The air duct would have been at a perfect angle to see the entire show. Bobby had probably already set everything up to hide in the attic. Bobby knelt down. Only his head and arm draped over the headboard were visible.
“I can read your mind, Detective. You’re thinking I was going to hide in the attic and you’re right. It would have been a good show too. This is why we make a good pair. I’m obviously the protagonist, and you’re the antagonist—”
The gunshot rang out, stopping Bobby in mid-sentence. The girl on the bed screamed like the bullet had hit her. Drywall dust rained down on Bobby’s head.
“Damn it, Gregory. You’re really pissing me off now. I told you I was going to kill her if you tried to shoot me.”
Bobby stood up and Greg put his hands in the air.
“Hey, hey, Bobby, we can talk this out. You don’t have to punish her for my mistake. Come on. Point the gun at me, not her.”
“Okay, this is how we’re going to talk it out,” Bobby yelled. “Throw your gun through the window. And it better land outside.”
Greg threw his gun through the top window pane, sending shards of broken glass on the comforter and floor. Bobby walked out from behind the bed and picked up the largest piece of glass and put it to the girl’s throat.
“Now, I told you what would happen if you tried to shoot me and failed. Again.”
“Don’t do it. It’s not her fault.”
“You’re right. It’s not her fault, but you should have thought about that before you pulled the trigger,” Bobby said, and with a quick motion, sliced into the girl’s carotid artery.
Blood sprayed into the air, coating the bed and Bobby. The girl’s body arched and sent the arterial spray up the walls. She fell back onto the bed limp, blood running from her mouth and the wound in her neck.
“Wow. Old faithful. Am I right?”
The girl spasmed until all the life drained from her body. Bobby chose her because she looked like Shelly. He only wanted Greg to think she was Shelly. Greg was grateful but still had to wonder why he didn’t go after his wife like he did with Don’s wife. No matter the reason, Greg was to blame for this girl’s death. He should have continued to play along with Bobby’s game to see where he was going with it. Now, a new game began, and Bobby had the gun.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Greg said, moving closer to the edge of the bed.
“Yeah, I did. You will never learn if there are no consequences for your actions.”
Greg’s knee brushed the footboard.
“So what are we going to do now? You don’t have a hostage.”
“And you don’t have a gun,” Bobby said, pointing his gun at Greg.
Greg threw his hands up in feigned surrender and moved closer to the edge of the bed. He could tell Bobby was losing his grip on the situation. He moved until he was on the same side of the bed as Bobby.
Bobby was looking around the room like he was trying to find an escape route. Now that his plan backfired, and he was winging it, he was really dangerous. Bobby didn’t want to kill Greg. He didn’t expect Greg to show up. His only plan was to kill this woman and make Greg think it was his wife. Now, he only wanted to get away with both of them alive, so he could continue with the way things had been. It was a miscalculation when he killed Mary. Everything changed and they could never go back. Even if they both managed to get out of here alive, Greg’s career would be over. Now, the only thing Greg had to fight for was his family. Greg moved toward Bobby.
“Greg, I don’t want to kill you, but I will.”
“I don’t think you will,” Greg said.
Bobby’s face turned like a dog that didn’t quite understand its owner. Greg charged Bobby and pushed his left arm in the air. Two shots rang out. Pressure from the gun blast blew Greg’s eardrum and his equilibrium went sideways.
He felt Bobby move under him. Greg replanted his feet and lunged at one of the two Bobby’s he could see. Bobby tensed as they plowed into the wall.
Bobby wrapped his arm around Greg’s neck and brought his elbow down on his neck at the base of his skull. A white flash interrupted Greg’s vision. His body went limp, and he fell to the floor. He thought the fall paralyzed him until he felt sharp kicks to his side and legs.
The attack stopped, and Greg pushed himself up. He staggered and fell back against the wall for support. The back of his neck throbbed and electric pulses flowed down his legs. Bobby jumped on the bed to run away.
Greg put his foot against the wall and pushed off for more power as he speared Bobby. He drove his shoulder into his side and used Bobby’s momentum to knock him into the floor.
Greg straddled him and pinned his legs down. Fists rained down on Bobby’s unprotected fa
ce, followed by repeated blows to his stomach.
Blood flew from Bobby’s nose. He screamed at Greg, but he ignored him and continued to beat Bobby. Greg lifted his body with his knees and swung down, driving his fist down onto Bobby’s gun wound.
Bobby let out a loud screech like a wounded animal. And now Greg had cornered him. The gun bounced in his left hand. He held it in his palm like a rock and blindly swung it. The gun connected with the side of Greg’s head and temporarily stunned him. He shook it off and pulled back to hit Bobby again, but the punch went wide right. Bobby reared back and sent the butt of the gun into Greg’s face.
Blood gushed from his nose and covered Bobby’s face. Another primal scream rang out and gun connected with his face again. Greg fell to the floor, both of his hands covering his face. Blood ran between his fingers and spilled to the floor. He tried to move, but Bobby was on him.
Bobby used Greg’s shoulder to push himself up. He stood above Greg and kicked him in the stomach. Greg’s hands automatically moved to protect against the blunt boot attack. Before Bobby delivered another brutal kick, he pulled back and stopped.
The boot stomped the floor beside Greg’s face and the gun barrel twisted against his broken nose. Greg screamed. Bobby laughed and pulled Greg’s cell phone out of his pocket.
“I told you I don’t want to kill you. Now, don’t say another word or I will shoot you and then go find that pretty little wife of yours,” Bobby said, grinding his pistol into Greg’s face.
He scrolled through Greg’s phone until he found the number he was looking for. They answered the phone on the second ring.
“Greg, where the hell are you? We—” Don started before Bobby cut him off.
“Whoa, Donnie, calm down. This isn’t Greg. You ever think of just saying hello?”
“Then who the hell is this and why are you calling from his phone?”
“This is The Suicide Killer speaking,” Bobby said with a laugh.
“What did you do with Greg?”
Bobby pushed all of his weight on Greg as he stood.