Miami Fire

by Rick Murcer

  “Well, you don’t have to understand everything.”

  “No, but it’s nice to have a clue.”

  “If you say so. Oh, by the way, Sophie, Dean, Manny, and Josh all called and left messages on both our phones. They want to know how you’re doing. Sophie wanted to know if you and I had tried out the new hand yet.”

  His eyes were alive, even as he shook his head in a disapproving way.

  “That girl only has two things on her mind. Sex and giving me a hard time.”

  “Yep.”

  “I appreciate the love, from all of them, though. I’ll call them tomorrow and give them an update after I talk to the docs.”

  “That sounds like a plan, but I don’t think you’ll be talking to these doctors tonight or tomorrow even.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  She stuck the hypodermic needle into his right arm and watched as he went out almost immediately.

  Stroking the side of his face with her hand, she spoke softly.

  “I have other plans for you, Alex Downs.”

  CHAPTER-28

  The first Miami-Dade police cruiser rolled around the corner and slammed to a stop in front of the stoop of the building.

  “About damned time,” said Sophie, hurrying to the car.

  Manny put his phone back in his pocket after dialing Marie Swifton but not giving the cell time to connect.

  He high-stepped it to Sophie’s side.

  She broke off to the right, not looking in his direction, swung around the driver’s side, yanked opened the door, and pulled the driver out of the car.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” said the pudgy driver.

  “I called you guys twelve minutes ago, and you’re just getting here now. By the looks of things, you must have stopped and had another damned doughnut. If I had time, I’d kick your asses.”

  “Easy, Sophie,” said Manny, already heading for the passenger’s seat.

  “Easy my homesick ass, Manny.”

  She turned back to the driver.

  “Just get the hell out of the way. I need this car.”

  “I can’t let you—”

  With one lightening flick of her hand, she put the officer on his knees.

  “I’ll take whatever the hell I want. You can bill the FBI.”

  She jumped in behind the wheel, just as the cop’s partner jumped out, allowing Manny to climb in.

  “It’s been five minutes since he left. He could be anywhere,” said Manny.

  “Just strap up and let me worry about that,” she said.

  He did.

  Sophie spun the green-and-white around in a semicircle, working the accelerator and brakes, the acrid aroma of burning rubber surging through the cruiser, and then sped out of the parking lot.

  “Good move,” he said, watching her closely.

  “I have better ones. I’ll show you later.”

  She was upset, as anyone would be, but she was with him.

  “So you have a way to track his phone with GPS?” asked Manny.

  “I do, sort of.”

  She ran a stop sign at the next intersection, causing Manny to flinch, and then stepped on the accelerator. She then reached into her pocket and threw him her phone.

  “I know this ain’t up your alley, but there’s an icon on my phone that has a tiny picture of Dean’s head. He’s wearing that freaking ugly yellow paisley hat. Press that.”

  The phone flashed and suddenly a grid map of streets, which Manny assumed were in this section of Miami, appeared. Almost instantly, he saw the red blinking light toward the upper left corner of her phone. The steady green light was on the opposite side.

  “Are there three lights?”

  “Yes, red, amber, and green. The red and amber are almost on top of each other. I’m assuming we’re the green light?”

  Her relief was almost palatable, to say nothing of his own. They’d located Dean.

  His partner wiped at her eyes, swinging around a car parked illegally on the road, not missing a beat.

  “Yes. The amber is Dean, and the red is his phone.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Manny.

  “It means that after the crazy shit that went down in Vegas, we are always going to know where each of us is. We both had GPS chips embedded in our calves to make sure of it. Now, touch the red button.”

  “Good idea,” he said, touching the red light.

  A white banner with an address scrolled over the screen, the number on the address changing as the scrolling continued.

  “Can you read it, Manny? Do you know where the SUV is? Is it moving or did it stop?”

  “Yes. Yes. Yes, it’s moving, to answer your questions. In about one block, you’ll reach Parker Street, and then go right.”

  “Good answers. Again, I underestimated you with technology,” she said.

  “Hey, I don’t like it that much, but it works. It’s like broccoli. I don’t like that either, but I eat it.”

  “Yeah, I’m like that with liver,” she answered, her voice stronger.

  Sophie had steeled herself. Her tears had dried, and her demeanor had become focused on her task—finding Dean and keeping him safe. She’d come a long way in that area of her professional life, yet he heard it anyway, that underlying fear-driven tone that maybe she wouldn’t be able to keep Dean away from pain or, worse, that Valentino was going to take away the only truly good thing in her life.

  He knew where she was coming from. There has never been a more diabolical idea contrived in the almost limitless thoughts of humans than one that conveys true helplessness. We all feel it at some point. New mothers to old grandfathers. New lovers to old lovers. All are far too familiar with that heartache.

  The terrible emotional hybrid of anger and worry began to rise up in the middle of his chest at the thought of what Sophie must be going through.

  Spinning the steering wheel, Sophie screamed onto Parker and stomped the gas.

  “Where next?” she said.

  “In four blocks, turn west on Bird Road. It looks like he’s heading away from the city.”

  “How about those lights on my phone?”

  “If you mean are both of Dean’s indicator lights still together and lit, yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  She licked her lips then glanced at him.

  “I hate this son of a bitch. He scares me,” she said.

  “We got this. Don’t worry. He’s just another psycho.”

  But that wasn’t true, was it?

  He wanted to share with Sophie what Valentino had said about his inspiration. His mission of making people famous was unlike any other motivation for a serial killer he’d yet seen or even read about. He kept it to himself.

  There would be time for that discussion later.

  Valentino’s cool, calm voice played over in his head, enticing thoughts that were almost unfamiliar to him. He thought about the scumbag, and men like him, who had threatened his family.

  Manny squeezed Sophie’s phone tighter.

  Justice had always been at the top of his list of priorities. Part of his mantra included the idea that everyone accused of a crime deserved a fair shake, but he wondered if his approach had been littered with ideals that only applied to fools, especially for killing machines like this asshole.

  At this moment, living in Sophie’s torture with her, the only justice he was interested in had to do with the spilling of Valentino’s blood. For once, he chose to entertain that notion as truth.

  *****

  Watching the man behind the wheel of the SUV, his free hand pointing the Berretta at his face, Dean wondered how someone so ordinary in appearance had evolved into something so extraordinarily appalling. But that would be like asking why the world spun west to east instead of the other way around.

  It was just how it was.

  He felt his on-again/off-again compulsion, brought to the forefront during stress like this, to rid himself of germs, screaming at him to wring his hand
s together and eliminate the source of that compulsion. But he resisted, for now.

  Sophie had helped him work through that his germ phobias, and he didn’t want to backtrack if he could help it. He was more confident in himself than ever before, yet even that had its limits. But what choice did he have? He knew if he didn’t get out of this vehicle soon it could be too late.

  “Why don’t you let me go? What am I to you? Besides, you’ll be able to move faster.”

  Valentino kept his eyes on the road as he spoke.

  “We’re moving just fine, Agent. And while your logic is sound, and I don’t really need you, you might be more important to me than you believe. Plus, there’s another consideration to make here.”

  His captor slowed for the next intersection, turned left, wincing as he did.

  Dean guessed by the exchange of gunfire in the warehouse and the small blot of blood at the right shoulder, Valentino had been hit by Sophie or Manny.

  “You should get that looked at. It could be worse than you believe.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Agent. But I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse injuries without treatment.”

  “All right then, but infection is always a possibility.”

  No response.

  Dean felt his pulse quicken as he asked his next question.

  “What do you mean another consideration? You mean because I’ve seen your face?”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

  He followed that with a quick, almost pleasant smile as he glanced at Dean.

  The terrible compulsion to tear the skin from his body rose to another level. He slowly began to rub his thumb against his other hand.

  “It’ll be only a matter of time before we know who you are anyway.”

  “How so?” Valentino’s tone gave away no perceptible concern.

  “You’ve left a surprising amount of DNA behind, assuming you were bleeding in the warehouse as well. Fingerprints and facial recognition software can be used from the security cameras at the—”

  His hands began to work harder against each other as realization grabbed him by the front of his paisley shirt.

  “You know all of this, don’t you? You’re doing this, broadcasting your identity, on purpose.”

  *****

  “Left. Go left on the next road.”

  “Hold on.”

  Manny braced himself against the dash as the car picked up speed. At the right second, Sophie slammed on the brakes, burning more rubber, causing the vehicle to fishtail to the left. As it swung back right, she gunned it, and the car straightened onto the road where Manny had instructed her to turn.

  “You should get a job driving for a NASCAR team.”

  “I will. I swear it. Right as soon as I get Dean away from that murdering piece of shit and then stuff a couple of my stars up Valentino’s ass for good measure.”

  Usually Manny would laugh, and ordinarily she’d mean for him to do just that, but not this time.

  She was serious. And he believed on all accounts.

  “How far away is that SUV now?”

  “It looks like less than a mile. They’re still on this road.”

  The cruiser picked up speed.

  “We’re almost there, and I don’t think he has any idea we’re after him. He couldn’t have. We’ll get him back, Sophie.”

  “I know we will. That’s not what’s scaring the living crap out of me.”

  “What then?”

  She looked at him, and even in the dim light radiating from the instrument panel, he could see the anguish on her face.

  “I know I’ll see him again. I just want him to be breathing.”

  *****

  “How perceptive of you, Agent. It is good to know that the FBI has some intellectual ability after all.”

  With all of the strength he could muster, Dean separated his hands and rested one on each thigh. He felt like some high-powered electromagnet was pulling at him, but he held steady, for now.

  “I’d say that we do. But why are you doing this, exposing yourself? It can only end badly for you.”

  Valentino shifted the gun closer to his lap. It was still pointed directly at Dean, but it didn’t seem as menacing.

  Maybe, just maybe . . .

  “You’ve no doubt heard that people and their skills and talents are seldom appreciated in their hometowns, for whatever reason, yes?”

  “I have. So you feel underappreciated? For what? Killing innocent people?”

  Dean could see him gather his thoughts, obviously battling to control himself, upset over Dean’s statement.

  “No. Let me explain it to you like I did Agent Williams. And yes, I did my research. I know who you all are. But you miss the point. That’s not it at all. I’m not murdering these people like you morons believe. I’m using my talents to immortalize them. To make them famous and help them leave a legacy that they wouldn’t have without me. I love them. I want only good things for them.”

  Resisting bringing his hands together, Dean reached to stroke his beard.

  “Easy agent. Keep your hands on your lap.”

  He complied, but his mind traveled the same trail. Crazy spiced with delusional didn’t come close to describing this man.

  “You love them? Yet you kill them like that?”

  “I don’t expect you to understand, but years and years down the road, they will be remembered.”

  “As will you, right?”

  “That wasn’t my intent, to begin with. But genius must be shared. The best of the best, and their work, their creations, must be given to the masses.”

  “So by exposing the world to your ‘creations’ you’re killing two birds with one stone? You know there is no way in hell those crime scene photos will ever be made public. It won’t happen.”

  He felt the vehicle begin to slow down.

  “Do you know that one of those talentless cops called me a sick son of a bitch?” There was more tension in the man’s voice. “Sick. We’ll see about that. What I have in mind is far better than exposure, Agent. I’m going to let the public decide what is true art, true love, true genius. Not warped or demented actions of a madman, but quite the opposite.”

  Dean’s heart sank. “The Internet? You’re going to post pictures of those two crime scenes?”

  His grin was clearly visible as the SUV slowed even more.

  “Not two creations, Agent, but four, to begin with. You’ve seen only two. The third one is awaiting discovery. Perhaps my gallery will help hasten that discovery.”

  “You’ve killed eight people?”

  “Not exactly. I believe the two women I shot out of necessity don’t really matter in the grand scheme of what is happening here. And the first four, from my youth . . . well, they don’t really count either. There is one more gallery up for review along with the Welches and the Blankses . . . and another one very soon.”

  Stunned into silence at Valentino’s confession, Dean’s hands came together and began the wringing process.

  He had to stop this demented man, and now.

  Could he get his gun before Valentino shot him? Probably not, but he was going to try.

  He had no choice. There was far more revealed in his words than a serial killer confession. This man knew the BAU, and he was exceedingly clever. This complete setup proved it. He had known what was coming, how law enforcement worked, and planned accordingly.

  Now or never, Deano.

  Just as he was ready to make his move, they rolled to a stop.

  “We’ve arrived, Agent.”

  Dean glanced through the windshield and saw the headlights uncover the small, blue car parked on the side of the road. No doubt, Valentino’s getaway car.

  The gun was suddenly against his temple.

  “First, law enforcement disrespects me and my noble purpose by calling me insane. I tried to accept that for what it is, ignorance, but I couldn’t let it go entirely. Yes, I was able to finally make a peace with that. She and her boyfriend
are now going to be very famous because of my ability to forgive and love.

  “But, now, after trying to set the record straight with your BAU, and then being shot for it, I realize that my battle will only become more difficult if I don’t do what is necessary.”

  There was no ignoring the edge of contempt that had slipped into Valentino’s voice. Under his guise of love and creativity, he was beginning to show his true self. Dean felt the dread engulf him.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means what it means,” Valentino said, pulling the gun away from Dean’s head.

  Dean dove for the weapon. Almost simultaneously, he heard the quick report from the Berretta as it rocked the inside of the SUV. Then nothing at all.

  CHAPTER-29

  Belle sat down in the leather chair, trying to control her nerves, and succeeding for the most part. It had been a quick trip form Bradshaw International Airport, but the memories, good and bad, had overwhelmed her.

  There was still nothing like the ambiance and beauty of a palm-tree-filled Caribbean island. The warmth, the green, the sound of the waves rolling to shore and the contrasting terrains of mountains and valleys weaving their own magic were enchanting. But her favorite part of being here had always been the scent of ocean and flora as they converged. She swore she still smelled it during the winter in her apartment from time to time.

  Yet, here, underneath that beauty lay a demon that had to be exorcised for both her and Cammy’s sake. She knew that. She and Josh had talked about it, but talking and doing were worlds apart, or at least had been until this moment.

  She rested her hands on her stomach, hoping to calm the tiny dragons causing havoc there. She could, and would, do this, even if it meant she would spend the rest of her life in a loony bin or staring at the bottom of a bottle of booze.

  Josh seemed to sense her thoughts and reached over to whisper in her ear.