Sick Man

by Paul Spencer

  “Yeah, well, that’s not gonna happen.”

  “No, but we can make him think that it did. Swap seats with me. Did you bring your gun?”

  “I never leave home without it.”

  “I wish you had. You know Malone has a hard on for you. If this thing goes south, he’ll take any excuse he can to lock you up.”

  “You think I’m going to let you meet Larsen without armed backup?”

  “Look, just don’t use it, okay? Now let’s go.”

  We changed places, and I drove us out of the parking lot and across the river to the freeway. The rain was coming down harder now, and the wipers struggled to keep up. Traffic moved at a crawl. I tried to weave my way through, but standing water kept pulling at the steering wheel. I dropped my speed, hoping that we would make it to Gresham before Larsen’s deadline.

  “Are you still going to call Buchanan?” Tony said.

  “No. Larsen told me not to. I have to figure he’s got someone on the inside. Otherwise, how could the cops have known about that gun being planted at my place?” I thought for a moment. “I could call Casey though. She might know how to help.”

  “Good idea.”

  I dialed Casey’s number, and she picked up right away.

  “Casey, it’s Mick Wray. I need your help”

  “Where the hell are you? Buchanan is going crazy at me.”

  “I don’t have time to explain. I need you to trust me.”

  “Mick, you’re a fugitive from justice. I could get disbarred because of this. If you want my help, you’d better tell me what’s going on.”

  I wanted to scream at her, but I knew she was right. I gritted my teeth and gave her a quick summary of the day’s events.

  “Okay,” she said. “What do you need me to do?”

  “I need to get this information to the police, but I think Larsen has the investigation compromised. I’m not sure what to do.”

  “Leave it with me. I think I can figure out a way to make it work. And be careful.”

  “I will.”

  We drove east on Interstate 84 for a while, then got off the freeway at 181st. Almost forty minutes had passed since we left downtown. I told Tony to hunker down out of sight in the passenger footwell, then drove as fast as I dared in the torrential downpour, past furniture stores and fast food joints from chains you never see in the nicer suburbs.

  The old John Deere plant was a sprawling expanse of buildings, surrounded by a tall fence with razor wire on top. It had closed five years ago, and it hadn’t been painted since. I pulled on to the slip road beside the plant. There were no other buildings around here. Across the street was a rail yard and a storage lot full of rusting fifty-five gallon drums. Everything else faded off into wasteland.

  The same van I’d been abducted in sat by the side of the slip road, with a shiny black Lexus parked behind it. The soccer field was unkempt. The grass was ankle deep, and one set of goal posts had been tipped over. I parked far enough back from the other cars that Tony could see everything without being spotted.

  I shut off the car, stuffed Larsen’s medical records under my shirt, and stepped out. The rain soaked me to the skin immediately. A door on the Lexus opened, and Larsen emerged, sheltering under a large umbrella the same shade of black as his suit.

  “Did you do as I commanded?” he shouted.

  “Yes.” I pulled out his records and waved them at him.

  “Good.”

  He banged on the side of the van. The door opened, and the killer stepped out. He had a gun in one hand, and he dragged Linda by the arm with the other. She stumbled as he pulled her out of the van. The rain plastered her hair to the sides of her head. A small trickle of blood ran from her nose.

  “Let her go!” I yelled. “You don’t need her anymore.”

  “It’s not that simple, mister Wray. This matter is in the Lord God’s hands now. He will determine our fates. Bring me the records.”

  I walked towards them slowly.

  “I know what you did,” I shouted as I approached. “All those children. You were their father. Every one of them. You raped their mothers and you let them die!”

  “I did as the Lord God commanded, and he brought his children home,” Larsen said. He had an eerily calm expression on his face. The killer stared at him, transfixed, mouth open and eyes wide.

  When I was six feet away, Larsen held out a hand, his arm ramrod straight.

  “Stop there,” he said. “We must now pray. Kneel before the Lord.”

  I didn’t want to, but I found myself kneeling anyway. The cold mud soaked through the knees of my jeans. I was shaking so hard I could barely stay upright. The killer pushed Linda down onto her knees and put his gun to the back of her head. There was no way I could get to him before he shot us both. Larsen began to speak, his deep booming voice sounding clearly above the rain. The killer echoed his words.

  “Remember, O Lord, the God of Spirits and of all Flesh,”

  “Remember, O Lord, the God of Spirits and of all Flesh,”

  “We are your servants, and we bring vengeance upon your enemies.”

  “We are your servants, and we bring vengeance upon your enemies.”

  Linda was crying. I couldn’t take this anymore.

  “You’re a sick motherfucker, Larsen,” I shouted. “Raping underage girls. Letting innocent children die!”

  “We will deliver their souls to your judgment, that they may burn in eternal hellfire.” Larsen’s voice was strained now. Still, the killer repeated his words.

  “We will deliver their souls to your judgment, that they may burn in eternal hellfire.”

  “You’re no man of god, you’re a sick, evil pervert,” I screamed.

  “And now it is time for this godless heathen to be judged,” Larsen yelled. He pointed at me. “Take him!”

  The killer’s gun arm moved. I hit the ground as fast as I could, as a deafening roar shook the air. A spasm of terror gripped me, then I realized I was still alive. I looked up.

  Larsen lay on the ground, a neat black hole between his eyes.

  Linda screamed and fell forward, sobbing. The killer swung the gun around to point at me.

  “Do you know what it’s like?” he demanded, tears streaming down his face. “Do you? To see your daughter struggling to breathe, begging you to help her, and knowing there’s nothing you can do? She was just a little girl!”

  He took a couple of deep, gulping breaths, then spread his arms wide and turned his head to the sky.

  “And she wasn’t even my daughter after all!” he howled.

  His gun arm moved again. I tried to leap at him, but I slipped and fell face first in the mud. I heard another impossibly loud gunshot. I pushed myself back to my knees.

  The killer lay sprawled on the ground, a gaping hole in the back of his head, blood and brains oozing out into the mud.

  Linda had toppled onto her side, curled up on the ground between the two dead men, still sobbing. I crawled over to her and wrapped my arms around her. She buried her face in my chest.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s over.”

  Chapter 37 – And Breathe

  Detective Buchanan frowned at me.

  “And you expect me to believe that shit?”

  “That’s what happened,” I said. I pointed to Larsen’s medical records, sitting on the seat beside me. “And it all stacks up. Read it for yourself.”

  Buchanan, Tony and I sat in a black unmarked police Crown Victoria, Buchanan in front, Tony and me in the back.

  Out in the soccer field, a forensic team had already taped off the area and set up a white tent over the two bodies. Various figures in white coveralls moved back and forth. The police and emergency vehicles had arrived only minutes after the shootings. Buchanan told me the cops had received an anonymous 911 call to report a guy waving a gun around in the park. I figured the tip came from Casey.

  An ambulance had taken Linda to hospital. The EMTs told me she had a concussion and was in
shock. They assured me she was going to be fine, but they wanted to keep her overnight for observation. She made me promise to come see her as soon as the cops let me go.

  Buchanan reached over and picked up the file. He shook it at me.

  “Arnold Larsen fathered multiple children with multiple women in his church, and they all died because of some genetic disorder they inherited from him?”

  “That’s right. It’s called ADA. And they died because he wouldn’t let the families get medical help. He knew it was treatable, but he also knew that he’d be found out if a doctor figured out that the kids had ADA too. Aaron knew because his kid sister died, and he must have figured out Larsen was her father. He was blackmailing Larsen. Elder Robbins must have known too. He tried to reach out to me, so Larsen had him killed. Those medical records in my file were the last loose end. That’s why he went after me.”

  “And the guy shot himself after he shot Larsen?”

  “That’s right,” Tony said. “I saw the whole thing.”

  Buchanan looked at me. “What about you?”

  “I didn’t see it. After he shot Larsen, I was face down in the mud with my hands over my head. I thought he was going to shoot me.”

  “You didn’t hear the shot?”

  “I heard it all right. Loud as hell.”

  “What direction did it come from?”

  “I couldn’t say. My ears were still ringing from the first shot.”

  “I still don’t understand why he would shoot himself.”

  “Well, he just found out that the guy he’d been killing for was a rapist and a cold-hearted child killer who slept with his wife. The guy was obviously crazy to begin with. It wouldn’t have taken much to push him over the edge.”

  “Maybe so.” Buchanan waved the medical file at me again. “I’m going to need to keep this.”

  “Be my guest. The death certificates are in there too.”

  He put the folder in his briefcase. “Good. We’re going to have to check all this out. Don’t leave town. We’ll be in touch.”

  “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I opened the door.

  “One other thing,” Buchanan said.

  I stopped half way out of the car. “What?”

  “Looks like you were right all along.”

  “Big of you to say it.”

  I got out and closed the door. Tony got out the other side. Malone came running over.

  “Wait! Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Home,” I said.

  “What are you talking about?” He yanked open the Crown Vic’s door. “Buchanan, are you just letting these guys go?”

  “Yes I am. And I don’t want to hear any crap from you about it.”

  Malone’s face looked like it was going to explode. I smiled at him.

  “Have a nice day, detective.”

  We went over to our car and got in.

  “Where are we going?” Tony said.

  “Home for a hot shower first. Then a quick visit to Linda. Then I think we head over to Holman’s and begin the process of getting good and fucking drunk.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  I put the car in drive and pulled away. The rain still pounded down, so I took my time getting back to the freeway. As we crossed the bridge over the river that runs through Fairview Park, Tony wound down his window and threw something out. I couldn’t say for sure, but it looked like a gun. He wound his window up again and kept driving, his expression unchanged.

  “Are you sure the killer shot himself?” I said.

  He smiled at me. “I told you. I saw the whole thing.”

  The End