Blood Angel

by Bernard Schaffer

“So the one in that bedroom was opened from the inside,” Rein said.

  “What? You crazy. Who the hell is this guy? Nobody was in the house except me.”

  Rein pointed one of the knives toward the kitchen. “There’s only two explanations then. You opened the window yourself and forgot about it.”

  “No.”

  “And you left the front door unlocked.”

  “Eso es pura paja. Never.”

  “You forget things all the time when you’re drinking, Papi.”

  “I wasn’t drinking. Who said I was drinking!”

  “The only other explanation is that someone broke in. They walked through the house and opened the back window as an emergency escape route.”

  “What, you think I just lay here while some person came into my house like some cobarde?” He puffed out his chest and balled up his fists. “I kick the ass of anybody who come in here. You saying I can’t defend myself in front of my own daughter? I’ll kick your ass right now. What’s this guy saying to me, huh? Tell him I’ll do it.”

  “No one’s saying that, Papi.” Carrie holstered her gun. She pulled her father’s head toward hers and kissed him on top of his forehead. “Go pack a bag.”

  “For what?”

  “We’re leaving.”

  “I’m not leaving. You both come in here, acting like crazy people.”

  “I love you, Papi.”

  “I love you too,” he said.

  “I know. Go pack a bag or I’ll pack it for you.”

  * * *

  There were no K-9’s working in the county that evening. There weren’t any in the surrounding counties either. Carrie made her father sit in her car with Rein while she processed the scene. She swabbed for DNA and dusted for fingerprints but wasn’t hopeful. The never-ending influx of crime scene television shows had instructed even the stupidest of criminals to wear gloves.

  She tossed her evidence bag into her trunk and hopped into the driver’s seat. Rosendo’s arms were folded across his chest and he wouldn’t look at her. “What happened?” she asked.

  “Your friend back there. He is a goddamn atheist.”

  Carrie glared at Rein in the rearview mirror and held up her hands.

  “I made the mistake of telling him about Linda,” Rein muttered.

  “That woman’s soul needed to be prayed over, to undo all the wickedness cast upon her!”

  “Stop,” Rein said. “She didn’t believe in that nonsense either.”

  “Nonsense?” Rosendo cried. “You are blasphemy!” He pursed his lips together and pretended to spit. “Pecador!”

  “All right, that’s enough!” Carrie said. She reached in her coat pocket and pulled out Rosendo’s set of keys. “Rein, take these. You’re driving my dad’s car over to Penny’s house.”

  “Why can’t I drive it?” Rosendo said.

  “Because you’ve been drinking. And you can’t see at night, anyway.” She turned to hand the keys to Rein and said, “You do have a driver’s license, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Is it current?”

  Rein scratched the side of his beard. “How long do they last for again?”

  “Four years.”

  He plucked the keys from her hand. “I’ll drive slow.”

  The door closed and Rosendo grunted. “I don’t want that atheist driving my car.”

  “What is your problem, Papi? Jacob is a good man. He saved my life. He might have just helped me save yours.”

  “He is a bum! Perezoso! Look at that beard. Madre de Dios. You can do better.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes. “I’m not with him.”

  Rosendo looked out the window as they drove down the driveway. “Say whatever you want. A father knows.”

  * * *

  Penny was waiting for them at the front door with her arms folded. She was wearing her good robe, the silk Japanese one, instead of her pink one with the cigarette burns in it. She’d done her hair and put on lipstick.

  Carrie parked her car and told Rosendo to wait a second. “I don’t want to scare Penny or Natalie with anything I just told you. I need you to keep an eye on them both. Make sure the house is locked up. Make sure she and Natalie are never out of your sight. If you hear anything, I mean anything, call nine-one-one right away.”

  “I understand.”

  “It’s very important that Penny doesn’t think you’re here to protect her. She has too much pride for that, so don’t tell her why you’re here.”

  “She is a strong, proud woman.”

  “Exactly. Listen, I hate having to ask you to do this, but you’re the only person I trust enough. They’re vulnerable and I need someone I can rely on.”

  Rosendo patted his daughter on the hand and said, “I know, my love. I will do whatever it takes. You have my promise as your father and as a man.”

  “Thank you, Papi.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s go inside. Remember, this stays between us.”

  “Of course,” he said. He grabbed his bag from the floor and slung it around his shoulder.

  When he got out of the car, Penny put her hands on her hips and called out, “Rosendo Santero, look at you. You haven’t aged a day in the past ten years.”

  “Who is that?” Rosendo said. He shielded his eyes from the porch lights, trying to see her better.

  “It’s Penny, you idiot.”

  “That’s impossible,” Rosendo said. He put his hand over his heart and said, “The woman standing before me is too young and beautiful to be her.”

  Carrie smacked him on the arm. “Get in the damn house before I puke all over both of you.”

  Penny greeted him with open arms and he leaned in and kissed her on both cheeks. “Come in,” she said, waving him through the door. “Put your bag down anywhere and make yourself at home. Mi casa, su casa. Did I say that right?”

  “You most certainly did,” he said, and they both laughed.

  “Can I talk to you on the porch, Penny?” Carrie asked.

  “Sure thing,” Penny said.

  Carrie leaned in to make sure her father wasn’t listening. “Thank you so much for taking him in,” she said.

  “No problem at all. Was someone really in the house?”

  “I think so. I can’t be sure, but right now, I can’t take any chances.”

  “I understand.”

  “Listen, under no circumstances can he think he’s here for you to protect him. He’s too damn stubborn for that.”

  “He’s got his pride. I understand that.”

  “Exactly. Until things settle down and we arrest this guy, I need you to make sure he and Nubs—Natalie—God damn it, are never out of your sight.”

  Penny took Carrie’s hand. “You won’t have anything to worry about. I didn’t get this far in life by backing down from needle-dick scumbags that threaten the ones I love. Matter of fact, you send that little asshole over here and I’ll take care of him for you.”

  “Thank you. You’re the only person I trust enough to do this. My dad’s vulnerable and I need someone I can rely on.”

  “Oh, sweetie, you can rely on me. Always.”

  “I know I can,” Carrie said. She embraced Penny and went to go back inside.

  “You go run along and take care of business,” Penny said, blocking her from the door. “I’m going to go visit with your father.”

  “I’m sure he’s pretty tired,” Carrie said.

  “What are you talking about?” Rosendo said. “I am as awake as ten men.”

  “See?” Penny said.

  “Keep an eye on him,” Carrie whispered.

  “Oh, I will. All night if I have to.” Penny winked at Carrie and closed the door.

  Carrie heard the dead bolt lock in place and saw Penny’s shadow move across the room toward the sofa. As she went down the steps to her car, she could hear the two of them laughing.

  15

  Carrie drove slowly past Tucker’s house, looking for Rein. Her father’s car wa
s parked in a ditch on the side of the road a hundred yards west of the property. No one was sitting in it.

  “Is he up in the damn trees again?” She looked through her windows at the treetops as she drove past. There was nothing but darkness. She kept driving.

  The handheld radio next to her crackled and made her jump. “Checking up on me?”

  She raised it to her mouth and pressed the button. “Just trying to see where you’re hiding.”

  “If you could see where I was hiding, I wouldn’t be doing it right.”

  She pressed the button. “Well, at least I know you’ve got your radio on.”

  “Where did you find this thing anyway? It looks older then when I was with the county.”

  “Did they have radios back then? I thought they sent all their messages by raven.”

  There was a pause. “Why would anyone use ravens? Homing pigeons would make more sense.”

  “It was a joke, Rein. It’s from a TV show.”

  “I don’t own a television. Sending messages by raven is stupid.”

  She put the radio down and laughed.

  * * *

  Alexis Dole lived at the center of a cul-de-sac in a quiet neighborhood. Her entire downstairs was lit. Her porch lights were on. She had spotlights at each corner of the house and they were lit too. The house didn’t have motion sensors, as far as Carrie could tell. Everything was just on. Carrie sat in her car a few blocks away from the house. She’d picked that spot because there were no streetlights overhead. She figured Dole would be on high alert after the court hearing and there was no need to antagonize the woman any further.

  There was a sign on the front lawn that read NO SOLICITORS, NO TRESPASSERS, YOU ARE BEING RECORDED.

  There were no curtains in the house. Just cheap plastic blinds that hung lopsided and cracked from nylon strings. Carrie pulled her binoculars out of the glove box and raised them to her eyes, twisting their lenses until the interior of Alexis Dole’s living room came into focus. “Holy shit,” Carrie whispered.

  The living room walls were barren and the only piece of furniture was a beach chair, folded in the corner. A heavy bag hung from a large metal hook that was screwed upward into the ceiling. There were weights stacked along the walls. No mirrors. A large paper target with a human silhouette was taped to one wall. Carrie zoomed in and saw a dozen throwing knives sunk deep in the head, neck, and groin. As she inspected the knives, she realized something was standing very close to her. Its face was just inches away. Its eyes were level with hers. The only thing that separated it from her was the car door window.

  The glass fogged and Carrie lowered her binoculars, and turned her head, very slowly.

  The dog’s massive head was the size of her own. Its sleek black fur was highlighted by the thick metal chain around its neck. It was a rottweiler and its ears had been clipped so that instead of drooping, they stuck out sideways like devil horns. The dog was growling but somehow made no noise. Its snout was curled back, tight, and quivering. White foam leaked from its sharp, curved, fangs. Carrie put the binoculars down very slowly and leaned back from the window.

  “Sentar!” someone behind the dog commanded and the dog’s face instantly relaxed. It’s tongue unfurled and it panted and sat down. Alexis Dole came up alongside the dog and rested her hand on top of the dog’s head. She scratched its ears and said, “Fique. Good.”

  Carrie cracked her window just enough to speak through it. “Good evening, Miss Dole.”

  Dole was dressed in a hooded sweatshirt. The hood covered most of her face, leaving her ruined eye in shadow. She kept stroking her dog. The dog was still watching Carrie.

  “He’s really big,” Carrie said.

  “I rescued him from a kill shelter,” Dole said. “He was found inside a heroin shipment from Brazil. The cartel had severed his vocal chords so no one could hear him. That’s why he doesn’t make any noise when he growls.”

  “That’s kind of terrifying.”

  “What do you want, Detective?” Dole moved her hood aside to better see Carrie with her single eye.

  “Well, I was keeping an eye on you—both eyes—I mean, I was, you know, just keeping a watch on how you are. That’s all.” Carrie stopped speaking and took a deep breath. “So, how are you?”

  Dole tightened the grip on her dog’s chain and said, “Vir!” and the dog stood up. “Go find someone else to babysit, Detective. You aren’t needed here.”

  “Listen, I can’t go into too many details, but there’s a chance Pennington will come looking for you. If he does, or if anything strange happens, if you find a window unlocked, or something out of place, please get out of the house and call nine-one-one as fast as you can.”

  Dole smiled at the idea. “If he comes looking for me, I won’t be calling nine-one-one, Detective.”

  Dole led her dog back home. She went up the lawn toward her front door and pushed it open. It wasn’t locked. She let the dog in and unchained it. All of the lights went dark inside the house as she disappeared from Carrie’s view. The front door stayed open wide.

  * * *

  Carrie was halfway to Patricia Martin’s house when her radio crackled and Rein said, “Pennington’s on the move.”

  She snatched the radio out of the seat and held it to her mouth. “What direction?”

  “Stand by,” Rein grunted. She could hear branches cracking in the background. “Trying to get out of this damn tree.”

  Carrie gunned the engine, flying toward him. She started looking for headlights. It was ten o’clock at night and there weren’t many other cars on the road. Any car coming her way would likely be Tucker, heading toward his next kill.

  What victim was he going for? What would she do if he drove past her? How would she get the car spun around without him seeing it, and still be able to follow him to the next victim’s house without losing him?

  A thousand questions and scenarios flew through her mind as she drove ninety miles an hour, trying not to hit anyone.

  “He’s making a right and heading east. I’m getting back to the car now to follow.”

  “Don’t lose him, Rein!” She let go of the button, doing the calculations in her head as she drove, trying to figure where east took Pennington. “He has to be going for Bill,” Carrie said.

  She could hear Rein’s engine start. “Or he’s going the long way around trying to cover his tracks. What’s your ETA?”

  “A few minutes. Coming in hot.”

  “Well, slow down,” Rein said. He sounded so calm, she thought. It was maddening. All she heard was her own voice quavering when she spoke. The raw adrenaline coursing through her veins like quicksilver. “Just slow down and breathe,” Rein said. “I can see his taillights ahead of me. If you come racing in, he’s going to hear you and know he’s being followed. Just hang back until I need you.”

  “We can’t lose him,” Carrie said.

  “We won’t.”

  Carrie breathed. If they lost Pennington, there could be a dozen mutilated bodies rotting the next day before they were found. Bill and his family. Nubs, Penny, and her father. The other victims. Other cops and counselors she hadn’t heard of. Whoever else Pennington was targeting. No one was safe.

  Rein was right. If Pennington realized he was being followed, people might be saved that night, but he’d only reconfigure his plan and find some new crazy way to enact it.

  If they stopped Pennington on his way to one of the victim’s houses, was that enough? It would depend on what he had in the car, she thought. If he had tools and spray paint and weapons, then definitely. Especially if he had the same screwdriver or whatever he’d used on Linda’s ribs with him. The crime lab could match that to the tool marks found on the enamel of her bones. Hell, they could probably match the spray paint from the walls of Linda’s bedroom to whatever he still had on him.

  That was definitely enough, she thought. Unless it wasn’t. Unless he didn’t have anything with him. Or had bought all new supplies, because he had som
ething else in mind for his second murder. What if all he had was a flashlight and a saw? Hell, he could have duct tape, a filet knife, and a blowtorch. None of those things are inherently illegal to possess.

  If they stopped him before he got to the victim’s house, out of an abundance of caution to protect anyone else from being hurt, would there be any way to prove his intention?

  No. Not at all, she thought. Not enough for the goddamn courts. Some defense attorney would argue they’d only stopped poor Tucker Pennington because they were setting him up and illegally profiling him. All Mr. Pennington was doing out that night was driving around trying to clear his mind after the years of awful imprisonment inflicted on him by law enforcement. This was an unlawful arrest, Your Honor.

  She could hear the voice of every police instructor she’d had since the academy, asking her, “Then what happens? You get sued. Judges and district attorneys are all exempt from being sued, but not the cops. They can come after your salary, your house, and your pension. So don’t fuck up.”

  Carrie pressed the button on the radio again. “What’s your twenty?”

  “Turning onto Main Street in Hansen,” Rein said. “Stand by.” Carrie wasn’t far behind them.

  “He’s pulling into Saint Margaret of Antioch’s.”

  “What’s he doing there?” Carrie asked. “Is he going after that priest we met at his house?”

  “Give me a second,” Rein said. After a minute he came back on the radio and said, “Meet me at the diner across the street. No need to rush.”

  * * *

  They watched Tucker Pennington carry four large bags of garbage out of the church and take them to a dumpster around back. It was one o’clock in the morning. Each time, Father Ihan followed him outside and waited at the front door for Pennington to come back.

  They’d watched Pennington sweep the front lobby. They’d watched him mop. They’d seen him carrying buckets filled with cleaning supplies into the chapel while Father Ihan held the doors open.

  When he’d first arrived, Rein saw Thad and Grace sitting in the front of the car when they pulled into the church parking lot. Tucker had exited from the backseat with a small cooler and was summoned back to hug his mother through the window before going into the church.