Phoenix: A Hunter Novel

by J. V. Speyer

  Luis coughed as smoke created a haze in the air. Sure, the fire created a little bit of light, but the smoke undid almost all of the good it had done.

  Where was Hyena Lady? He couldn’t assume she was just off somewhere sulking. He knew she’d show up to try to block his exit at some point. She couldn’t ignore the fire.

  The sound of gunfire was his answer. Thankfully, Hyena Lady couldn’t shoot at this distance. Maybe the darkness and smoke affected her aim. The bullet ricocheted from a light fixture and bounced into the darkness.

  “How the hell did you get up so fast? You should still be out cold!” Her bad accent and the rasp of a thousand cigarettes echoed through the corridor, spreading along with the flames and the smoke.

  Luis didn’t make time to answer her. Adrenaline lit his nerves and flooded his muscles. He had always been disciplined. He had always been able to ignore outside issues in pursuit of a goal. Right now, that goal was escape. Pain, shock, and fear were all pushed to the side in pursuit of the ramp out of here.

  His lungs burned. They burned with the effort of exertion, and they burned with the smoke and fire. The part of his brain that was wandering—that’s shock, Luis—thought the place should have been more fireproof than this, but evidently, it had just been waiting for the right time to do its Roman candle impersonation. The sooner he could get out of here, the better.

  A living hand caught him by the wrist. He didn’t even think about it. He balanced on his good leg, turned, and slammed one of his crutches into Hyena Lady’s head as hard as he could.

  She collapsed into a heap without a word.

  “Shit.” He barely regained his balance before joining her in the heap. Maybe that was the point of staying in fighting form after all. “What do I do with her now?”

  “Leave her here?” Mike blinked at him. “Demon, remember?”

  Luis bit his tongue while his mind raced. He didn’t have time to try to argue Mike out of his religious delusions, and he didn’t have the strength to rescue her himself. “You’re not wrong,” he said slowly. “She’s evil, and she’s participated in a greater evil than I can articulate right now. But it’s not up to me to visit judgment upon her. If she’s possessed by a demon, she should have the opportunity to be healed and repent her actions, right?”

  Luis wasn’t a theologian. Sometimes, when his dad had been hungover, he’d sent Luis to church, but that was about it. Jose hadn’t been at all religious, and Luis hadn’t found a welcoming home in the Church himself.

  He had been forced to learn enough about certain forms of religious mania, since they tended to show up under professional circumstances.

  “You’re right.” Mike hung his head. Then he picked it up. “But not at your expense, brother.”

  “No.” Luis chuckled. “But I’m okay with leaving her behind the fire doors while we make our escape. I just can’t do it myself.”

  “Boom?” Boom-Boom looked at Luis much as a child would, plaintive and hopeful.

  Luis couldn’t quite guess what Boom-Boom might be hopeful about, but when the dead pyromaniac moved over to Hyena Lady’s head and picked it up, Luis figured it out.

  Mike picked up her legs. Luis retrieved his gun, painfully, and let the ghosts get to work. Lightfoot and Millie helped, although Lightfoot did it with his lip curled and his nose wrinkled.

  “Look at what I’m driven to. I was the terror of the road to Worcester, and now I’m saving an actual evil wretch from a fire who by all rights should hang just because a lawman doesn’t want to have her death on his conscience. Ugh. I feel almost clean.” He gave a full-body shudder as they carried her over to the fire doors at the end of the corridor.

  Luis followed along behind, after making sure his gun wasn’t going to go off in his pocket. That would just be embarrassing.

  They secured the fire doors behind them, so Hyena Lady would have some protection from the fire, and inched their way down the ramp into the cold October air.

  And Luis saw it—their ticket to freedom.

  The van looked like something from a bad late 1970s rock and roll fantasy flick. It had to have been a custom job. Electric blue, the airbrushed art featured a white-bearded wizard wearing nothing but his hat and a loincloth, shooting lightning bolts from his fingertips. Two young women with red hair and breasts that defied the laws of physics sat by his feet, gazing up at him and his beard adoringly.

  “This is it. I’m dying, and my brain is throwing up this hallucination because even I hate me.”

  “If it’s your dying hallucination, at least ride it out to the end.” Lightfoot gave him a nudge. “Come on, before you bleed out.”

  Luis couldn’t find any fault with Lightfoot’s argument. He propelled himself forward and found the shag van locked. It was easy enough to solve, considering that he had two crutches he could use to open the thing. He smashed the window, unlocked the van, and opened the door.

  The world spun, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Sure, he could dial 9-1-1 and wait for rescue. It would take too long to get here.

  He let the ghosts blow the broken glass away and climbed into the driver’s seat. This took a lot more strength and athleticism than he’d expected, considering that he couldn’t put any weight on his left leg.

  At least he could let himself scream out here.

  He finally made it, though the old thing was full of cigarettes, beer cans, and joints. He shook his head. Fine. Whatever. He wasn’t working Vice anymore, and he didn’t care enough to try to preserve evidence. He just needed a spare key.

  He didn’t find one, even though he risked certain infection and death groping around under the floor mats looking for one. He found a screwdriver instead.

  He’d worked undercover in Vice long enough to pick up a trick here and there. He stuck the screwdriver into the ignition. This didn’t work on most cars, not even on older cars. It was always worth a try though, especially in a pinch.

  Thankfully, it worked on this monstrosity from ancient times. The engine turned over right away. He let it idle while booting up the phone Alex had sent.

  He fumbled until he found the GPS app. He knew he was in Medfield, but that didn’t mean anything to a guy from Miami. There had to be a real hospital near here, not just an abandoned psychiatric facility that was currently on fire.

  The GPS told him the fastest route would be twenty-one minutes. He aimed for the hospital and cast his gaze at the ghosts. “Mike? You’re probably my best bet. Tell me you remember how to drive a car.”

  “Of course I remember how to drive a car.” Mike scoffed. “Used to drive a cab, you know.”

  “Awesome. Because there’s a good chance I’m going to pass out between here and there, and I’m going to need you to make sure I don’t accidentally kill anyone on the way. Can you do that?”

  “Sure thing, Gabe. You can count on me.”

  “Swell.” Luis showed him the phone. “This will tell you how to get to where we’re going.”

  Darkness closed in around him. Luis didn’t even fight it.

  Medfield State Hospital looked strangely familiar to Donovan, but he didn’t have time to ponder why. When the giant SUV pulled up Stonegate Drive, his heart almost stopped in his throat.

  He could see all the little “cottages,” which dwarfed the town house he shared with Luis and Tria. Of course, the town house had the advantage of having many big beautiful windows that weren’t boarded up. Every last cottage was sealed, very thoroughly, with messages in bold letters on hunter-orange paper stating that the building was unsafe.

  The main building, a huge red brick thing that looked like every evil asylum in every movie Hollywood had ever made, was also boarded up. Donovan could see the remnants of additional warnings, but he couldn’t make them out between the scant light from the SUV’s headlights and his panic.

  The main building was on fire.

  Smoke billowed from small fissures in the boards covering the windows, openings no one would have noticed in dayli
ght. It poured from the main doors, which looked sealed but weren’t.

  Kevin grabbed his phone. “Dispatch, this is Special Agent Kevin Rourke, FBI. We need fire and rescue at Medfield State Hospital. The main building is on fire, it’s believed one suspect is inside with one hostage. The hostage is a federal agent. The suspect is armed and highly dangerous.”

  Kevin paused, while Donovan stared at the building with his jaw slack. Were they too late? Had Hatch killed Luis and torched the building to hide the remains?

  “Dispatch, it’s fantastic that we have state troopers en route. I’m looking forward to their assistance. Please advise them to report to Lieutenant Carey on-site, he’s with me. What we need, in addition to those troopers, is fire trucks. And ambulances.” Kevin’s voice had the clipped tone of someone who might well shoot someone on general principle.

  “Awesome. Thank you.” Kevin hung up. “I know they’re trained to be calm in the face of whatever. I never understood just how annoying that was until this moment.”

  The words snapped Donovan into action. “I’ve got to get in there.” He passed his phone to Kevin so it wouldn’t melt in the heat, and raced toward the main doors of the building.

  Scott and John tackled him, just in time. It took both of them to hold him back.

  “Christ you’re dumb.” John gritted the words out from between clenched teeth. It took all of his strength to hold him back. “Would you put some of that bull strength into your brain for once?”

  “That building is massive and has no electricity. It’s full of smoke, dumbass.” Scott swept Donovan’s legs out from under him, although he and John kept hold of Donovan’s arms. They had to fight to hold Donovan up, but at least he couldn’t get purchase on the wet leaves carpeting the ground anymore. “You think you’ll be able to find Luis in there?”

  “I have to try.” Donovan stopped fighting, despite his words. He knew his brothers were right. They had to wait, even longer, to find Luis.

  And every second was precious.

  The state troopers showed up first, led by a night shift guy by the name of Phil Hamilton.

  Phil was a short wiry guy with a reputation for brains and a short fuse. He glanced up at the burning building and shuddered. “Captain Power said we were supposed to be searching the site?”

  “Yeah.” Donovan ran his hand through his hair. “We, uh, found the hostage, sort of. But the situation has deteriorated. The suspect used her own phone to make some threats, and it was traced to this location.”

  “This location covers a lot of ground.” Hamilton grimaced and glanced around wryly. “And it’s got a couple of ways in and out.”

  “Fabulous,” Kevin snarled.

  “Allow me to introduce Special Agent Rourke. His partner got drugged and taken hostage.” Donovan took a deep breath. He could handle this if he didn’t mention Luis’ name. “We can’t get into the building until the fire department douses it, so we need to search the grounds for any clues they might have gotten out.” He raised his voice. “Suspect is Tammie Hatch. She’s five foot eight, blonde, and her face does not move due to a surgical accident. Hostage is six foot two, Latino, with a bad injury to his leg. We’re looking for blood, drag marks, anything. Also looking for a 1970s Ford Econoline with unique artwork.”

  The troopers, about twenty in all, dispersed. Donovan stayed upright until they were out of visual range. Then, and only then, did his legs buckle.

  Kevin caught him. “We’ll find him, Donovan. You know we will.”

  Donovan bit the inside of his cheek. “He’s a strong guy. We both know he’d fight as long as he could, but she has plenty of ways of taking him out. She’s drugged him before, what’s to stop her from doing it again? He could be dying from smoke inhalation right now and can’t even fight.”

  Kevin looked away. “It’s possible.” Then he settled his shoulders. “But I can’t let myself think it’s likely.” He glanced at Scott and John and left it at that.

  Donovan wished he had as much faith in Captain Lightfoot as Kevin. Sure, Lightfoot had come through for Luis in the past. He was also a serial killer. Donovan wasn’t in the habit of trusting the people they hunted.

  He straightened up, pulled out his Maglite, and circled the building. He wasn’t about to just stand around and hope that someone else found the clue that led to Luis’ rescue. He needed to do something about it himself.

  The worst years of the state hospital system were behind it by the time Donovan was old enough to know what was going on in the world. He’d experienced the hospitals as places for people who truly needed help—safe places, really. That didn’t mean the stigma attached to them didn’t exist.

  He could see how a place like this would make people think of the absolute worst history had to offer.

  He crept around the exterior. All of the buildings associated with the hospital were abandoned and disused, but the site itself was open to the public as a park. It was apparently a popular dog-walking spot, although Donovan didn’t see many colorful baggies near the main building. Apparently, it disturbed even people who wanted to leave their dog’s mess on-site.

  Luis had been in this building.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. He’d have been able to sneak out of any of the other buildings long before Tammie Hatch found out. And if this old building wasn’t just as haunted as that old jail they’d holed up in, Donovan would hang up his detective badge and go back to catching speeders.

  How awful had it been for him, being trapped in here with some severely disturbed dead souls? What had they done to him, to take out their anger and aggression?

  He sneaked around the corner. The main building was massive. According to the website, it had been abandoned in stages. It had to have been creepy as hell, to receive modern treatment in a building only partially in use, perhaps tuning in to the whispers of the damned.

  He spotted what looked like pay dirt—a pair of ramps at a side entrance. One went to the main floor. The other went to the basement. Both doors were boarded up, but the main floor door hung ajar.

  Donovan bolted towards it. For one thing, less smoke came from this exit—even though the door was ajar—than from the other options. For another, an open door meant someone had been in a hurry. They might have been sloppy.

  He didn’t find Luis in the vestibule. He found stairs, wretched and slimy with mold. He also found Tammie Hatch.

  Hatch groaned when he rolled her over. She had a bump on the side of her head, just above her temple, and bruising around her eye and jaw. Luis had put up a fight, then. Pride surged through Donovan, its only outlet a grim twist of his lips as he pulled his gun.

  He grabbed his radio. “I have the suspect. Side entrance. Requesting backup.”

  Hatch blinked up at him. “I’m a damsel in distress! I’m not a suspect in anything! How could I be?” She reached for her hip. “Goddamn it, the son of a bitch even stole my gun.”

  “It’s his gun, you psychopathic little shit. Hands where I can see them.”

  Hatch stuck her tongue out at him. “Finders keepers, handsome.” She kept her hands still. “Look, I’ll cut you a deal. Give me what I want, and I’ll tell you where to find Agent Lightweight there.”

  Donovan ground his teeth. “You left him in a burning building?”

  She scoffed. “Who do you think roughed me up like this? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind a little horseplay, but don’t go for the face. That just gets awkward for everyone involved, don’t you think?”

  Donovan tightened his grip on his gun. Where was his backup? He wanted nothing so badly as to put a bullet in this woman’s brain, but he couldn’t afford it. He needed to find Luis, and she was the only one who knew where he was.

  “Agent Gomes didn’t do that during rough sex, lady. He wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

  “Shows what you know.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, holding her eyes with his own.

  “I’ve known Luis Gomes f
or fourteen years—almost fifteen, I guess. He’s got as much interest in sex with women as he does in sex with jellyfish. The thought would literally never occur to him. Not even to get out of being locked up in some abandoned asylum with the kind of woman who defends a child molester, rapist, and murderer.” Donovan forced a tight smile as his brothers ran up behind him.

  John saw what was going on, caught on, and grabbed his handcuffs. He hauled Hatch to her feet, none too gently, and bound her wrists behind her. “What did I tell you about going into the building, bro?” He shook his head.

  Donovan shrugged, not taking his eyes away from Hatch. “Saw an opportunity. And now this lady is going to tell me where Luis is.” He stepped closer.

  Scott got between Donovan and Hatch. It wasn’t egregious, but it was enough to bring Donovan to his senses. He wasn’t that cop, even if he wanted to be right now.

  “First things first, bro. Even someone like her’s got rights. And she gets reminded of them. Besides, there’s a good chance that Luis isn’t here.” Scott put a hand on Donovan’s shoulder.

  “Oh, he’s here all right. Your darling Luis is right where I left him. He’s in the dayroom, all tied up, roasting away like the pork roast he is.” Hatch lunged for Donovan but wasn’t able to balance herself with her arms restrained. She fell into the floor face-first.

  Scott picked her head up—by the hair—and read her rights to her.

  “Bro, this is a parking lot,” he continued, gesturing to the clearing around them. “What do you not see?”

  “It’s an abandoned hospital, Scott.” Donovan glowered as his brother let Hatch’s head fall back into the tiny stones. They probably didn’t feel great, especially on an already battered face. “I’m not expecting to see visitors lined up.”

  “No, but I would expect to see her shag van. I don’t. I did find a little puddle of antifreeze and some broken glass.” Scott waggled his eyebrows.

  Hatch picked her head up. “The little fucker stole my car too?”

  Chapter Twelve

  The ride to Norwood Hospital was one of the most surreal experiences of Luis’ life. He had four dead companions in a shag van from the seventies fighting to make sure he stayed conscious. It even worked, some of the time. Thankfully, there weren’t many people on the road at three thirty in the morning or whatever it was. He might be conscious for half the trip, but there was no way he could keep the car going in a straight line.