by Blake Pierce
“Yeah, the traffic’s a real bitch, Wally,” Jessie said, hoping to throw him off his rhythm. She’d noticed that as he spoke, his words came faster and his eyes got more frenzied. She needed to cool him off before he got out of control.
“Indeed,” Wally said, taking a breath and gathering himself again. “You can imagine how difficult it was once I got here. Police were everywhere. I knew I needed someone in my possession that would help you make good decisions. Luckily, I came across this lovely lady closing up her shop. What’s your name again, dear?”
He pulled the gag out of her mouth violently and tossed it to the floor.
“Maude,” the woman croaked, fighting back tears. Behind her, Jessie heard Hannah inhale deeply a second time and realized that somehow, her sister must know this woman.
“That’s right,” Wally said. “So I followed Maude home and ‘convinced’ her to join me on my little jaunt over here. Let me assure you that it was not fun. We had to wait until dark to trudge a quarter mile through the woods to get to your back door. At our age, that’s no easy feat.”
“You’re a very impressive person,” Jessie said, deadpan.
“Thank you for that,” he replied, amused at her sarcasm. “All that is to say, I haven’t really had my normal amount of time to envision how this would all play out. No syringes with paralytic agents. No X-Acto knives. I had to leave all that in the car; too cumbersome, very disappointing. But I do have the gun. I do have Maude. And I do have the three of you. So that should suffice.”
“Really?” Jessie said mockingly, furiously trying to come up with some kind of edge as she bantered with the madman, “after all your hard work, your years of meticulous planning, your signature kills with machetes and tiny knives that sliced flesh up into ribbons, you’re going to take out your nemesis with a gun? How prosaic.”
“Isn’t it though?” he replied, refusing to be baited. “Regrettably, my options are limited. I don’t know how long it will be before your friends in the Marshal Service arrive to take you back into the bosom of their protective custody. So time is of the essence.”
“They’re not coming until the morning,” Jessie told him. “If you let the others go, you can have all the time in the world you want with me.”
Wally’s smile evaporated.
“Please don’t insult me,” he said, his voice tight with barely controlled fury. “We were having so much fun up until now. Even if I believed you, even if I consented to your request, your unstable sister and crippled boyfriend would rush to enlist the aid of Barney Fife and the gang. By even suggesting such a thing, you embarrass yourself.”
Jessie could sense the situation deteriorating. She turned to look at Ryan and Hannah, neither of whom had said a word. She understood why. There was no way of knowing what might set this man off. But it was clear to her that something had to change. She’d stalled as long as she could but it was getting them nowhere. Wally was losing patience. They needed to change the dynamic fast, before he lost interest in ridiculing them and moved on to more drastic measures.
As she stared at the most important people in her life, something Wally had just said lingered in her brain. It gave her an idea, one that was probably unwise. But at this point, there were no wise moves left, just reckless ones. The only question was how she could let them know what she wanted to do without tipping the Night Hunter off. She decided to go big.
“I’m sorry,” she said turning back to him and pretending not to be sickened by the words she was about to say. “I shouldn’t have insulted you. As much as I’m appalled by what you’ve done, the profiler part of me can’t help but admire and respect you. The craft you put into your kills is impressive, if grotesque. And as much as it saddened me, the way you took out Detective Trembley was a marvel to behold. I know it had an impact on Ryan, which is what turned him into a quivering mess.”
As she said it, she turned back to Ryan, staring at him, willing him to understand. At first he looked hurt, but as she bore into him with her eyes, he seemed to get that she wasn’t insulting him. She was sending him a message.
“And Hannah here,” she continued, “you’re right about her too. She was always a bit off. But since you sliced up that girl who shared her initials, she’s really lost it. She gets hysterical at the drop of a hat. I’m not sure any amount of therapy will help.”
Hannah too had a brief moment of upset before Jessie saw something click behind her eyes. Then the slightest hint of smile passed across her sister’s lips before she opened her mouth and screamed.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
The wail echoed through the room. Before anyone could say a word, it was followed by a torrent of shrieking verbal attacks.
“You bitch! After everything I’ve been through, you say that? What kind of sister are you? We’re about to die and this is how you choose to end it? Haven’t I been through enough?”
She took a step toward Jessie but Ryan grabbed her, holding her back. As he did, he stumbled and yelped in pain, grabbing his leg. Hannah turned her fury on him.
“Now you do something?” she spat at him. “You’ll hold back a teenage girl but where were you when Trembley needed your help? Frozen in fear in your car, that’s where!”
“Don’t,” Ryan said, wincing in pain as he channeled both physical and psychic wounds. “It was one moment of indecision. It shouldn’t define my whole life. I don’t deserve that.”
Jessie turned back to the Night Hunter, who seemed equally perplexed and exhilarated by their mutual breakdowns. Under normal circumstances, Jessie might have hoped that her sister’s screams would be heard by neighbors. But the cabin was too isolated for that. It was clear that the Night Hunter had made the same calculation.
“Please,” she pleaded with him, “They’ve been through enough. Do what you want with me but don’t bring them into this. That doesn’t punish Garland.”
“Yeah,” Hannah agreed. “Let me take the old lady home. I was in her shop yesterday. She almost had a heart attack when some pushy customers came in. She can’t handle this. I’m surprised she hasn’t keeled over already.”
Jessie glanced at Maude, who did seem white and clammy.
“Oh God, she’s right. Look at her,” she insisted. “You had her marching through the snow and now you’ve got a gun to her head. At least let me help her lie her down by the fire. You can still aim that thing at me.”
Wally seemed to hesitate briefly. She knew it must be difficult for him to hold her up and keep the gun trained on the rest of them. But then his expression hardened.
“If she dies, she dies,” he said coldly. “Not really my concern.”
It seemed that hearing those words sent Maude over the edge. Jessie watched with horror as the woman’s eyes rolled back in her head and her body went limp. She collapsed, her body ripping free of Wally’s grip and slumping down in front of the fire. His eyes never left Jessie, nor did his gun.
“Fine,” he said with a nasty smirk. “I guess I’ll let her lie down.”
Jessie looked at Maude, crumpled and contorted, then back at Wally.
“Please, just let me help her lie flat so she’s not all twisted up like that.”
She didn’t wait for an answer, sliding over to the older woman and gently rolling her over onto her back next to the fire. The two of them were only feet from where Wally stood. He was close enough to press his gun to her head if chose to.
Once she had the older woman settled, she looked over at Hannah and Ryan and arched her eyebrows expectantly before returning her attention to Maude, who was mumbling softly, seemingly regaining consciousness. She rested her hand on the woman’s forehead, as if trying to gauge her temperature.
“I’ve lost interest in these little games,” Wally said. “It’s not what I wanted, but I think I’ll have to content myself by watching blood pour out of your brains one by one. Jessie, I think you should be the one to decide. Who dies first: your boyfriend or your sister?”
Jessie looked up at
him. He was focused on the others, his gun pointed midway between them. She turned to the two people she loved most in the world. They were both staring back at her. She knew that this almost certainly wouldn’t work; that she had likely lost this long, deadly game with the Night Hunter. But she had to try.
Praying they would understand, she nodded ever so slightly, letting them know it was go time. Neither responded but the look in their eyes told her everything she needed to know: they got it.
“Him first!” Hannah yelled, pointing at Ryan. “What good is he anyway? He’ll always be a shell of who he was. Put him out of his misery.”
The words seemed to hit Ryan like a punch as he doubled over, gagging loudly. Out of the corner of her eye, Jessie saw Wally’s attention hone in on the movement. Without looking down, she reached out and seized the handle of the fireplace poker she knew was only inches from Maude’s forehead.
In one swift motion, she swung it toward Wally’s right hand, the one holding the gun. But he was ready for her. Wally took a step back and the poker passed through the empty air where he’d stood only a second earlier. His mouth curled into a twisted smile as the poker made contact with the floor, echoing throughout the house.
But in his spiteful joy, Wally missed something. His attention was so focused on Jessie’s unsuccessful attack that he failed to notice the other one. By the time he saw Ryan leaping at him, using legs that suddenly seemed to be working just fine, it was too late to aim his gun. They collided and Wally landed hard on his back with Ryan on top of him. His gun slid off down the hallway. There was a loud thump as the older man’s head hit the hardwood floor.
Jessie scurried over and, while Ryan rolled the man onto his back, used the gag that he’d shoved in Maude’s mouth as a makeshift handcuff, tying his wrists together. Then she rolled him onto his back again. He stared up at her with slightly dazed eyes. She wasn’t sure if he was concussed or just stunned by the turn of events.
“You’re under arrest Wally,” she said quietly.
As she said the words, the gravity of the moment threatened to overwhelm her. Only seconds earlier, there seemed to be no hope. The three of them, along with Maude, were pawns in a cruel game that was certain to end in all their deaths.
But now they were safe. The Night Hunter was in custody, no longer a threat to them or anyone else. A rolling wave of relief cascaded through her entire body.
Ryan sat Wally up and dragged him over to the hallway wall, where the older man slumped heavily. He was breathing hard and looked like he might be on the verge of his own heart attack. The thought made Jessie look over at Maude. Hannah had already gone to her side and was stroking her hair, whispering something in the woman’s ear that she couldn’t hear. She turned back to Ryan.
“You should get your phone,” she told him. “We need an ambulance here ASAP.”
Ryan nodded and pushed himself upright. As he walked into the kitchen, Jessie noticed that his “limp” had almost completely disappeared. Glancing back at her sister, she saw that her tears had also left as quickly as they had arrived. Both of them had played their parts—souls too damaged to be threats—well, at least well enough to distract Wally.
The Night Hunter, who hadn’t spoken since the chaos erupted, cleared his throat.
“You didn’t beat me,” he muttered bitterly.
She couldn’t help but snort.
“Your current predicament would seem to suggest otherwise, Wally.”
“Sure,” he said, grinning nastily. There was blood on his teeth. “But you couldn’t do it on your own. Garland Moses was all by himself and he came within seconds of taking me down. Only a loose sewer grate saved me. It took three of you to do it. I guess we know the answer to that question eating at you since your husband murdered your mentor—you’re not his equal.”
Jessie stared at him impassively, surprised at how little his words affected her.
“Wally,” she said, “You’re right about one thing. I’m not Garland’s equal, not even close. He was the greatest criminal profiler of the last quarter century. I’d have to be pretty arrogant to think I was better than him. I was just honored that he considered me worthy of his time. But that’s the only thing you’re right about.”
“Oh really?” he said, trying to look uninterested and failing.
“Really. First of all, the man who killed him wasn’t my husband. He was my ex-husband, and he’s currently in the ground, where I put him. Secondly, the reason I beat you was because I wasn’t all by myself, like Garland was. I was with my family. My family, who made you think that they were weak when they were strong, who stuck with me when things were at their worst, who had my back no matter what, because that’s what family does. But you wouldn’t understand that, Wally. You may be a genius, but when it comes to people, you’re actually pretty stupid.”
The old man stared at her and, for what she suspected was the first time in years, he seemed speechless. But of course, it didn’t last long.
“Tell that to Alan Trembley,” he said, his voice dripping with acid, his eyes gleaming with hatred. “Tell it to your kindly old neighbor Delia Morris and her cute, little dog, Grant. Tell it to Jenavieve Holt and Jared Hartung and Hallie Douglas and the party streamer strands I made from their skin. Tell it to—.”
A gunshot interrupted his words. His body slammed back against the wall, suspended there for what seemed like forever before sliding to the floor, leaving a red stain on the wall behind him. Blood poured from his chest as he tried to speak. His lips moved but no words came out, only one rough sigh before his eyes lost their ecstatic fury and went blank.
Jessie turned to see where the shot had come from. Hannah looked back at her and placed Wally’s gun on the floor beside her.
“Shut up,” she muttered under her breath.
“What did you do?” Jessie demanded in horror.
Hannah looked in her eyes. Her face was surprisingly serene.
“You heard him,” she said softly, her voice full of quiet confidence. “He wasn’t sorry. He was proud of himself. And if he was arrested, if he was convicted, he’d still be a threat. Sure, they’d probably never let him out. But he’d infect someone else, someone who might continue his dirty work when they got released. He was too dangerous to let live. So I ended him.”
Jessie, filled with despair, could only stare at her sister, speechless.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Jessie removed the gag before the cops arrived.
When the Riverside County Coroner took the Night Hunter’s body away, his hands were at his sides, as if they had been that way when he died. Jessie didn’t tell Maude what to say, but after the woman got some oxygen she felt well enough to give a statement. Without prodding, she specifically mentioned that Hannah had shot Wally in self-defense. No one seemed inclined to doubt her.
Jessie wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She could barely process that her sister had just shot an unarmed, handcuffed man. Yes, he was a brutal serial killer. But despite what Hannah claimed, he was no longer a threat to them. There was no way she felt up to untangling all the thorny questions of conscience right now, so she set them aside in a corner of her mind to deal with later.
Luckily there was other stuff to keep her busy. Rich McClane had selected one of the other Riverside detectives, a woman named Matilda Broughton whom he held in high regard, to question them about the events of the last few days. She was diminutive and squat, with short black hair and a calm, unfussy demeanor that Jessie admired.
Broughton got the surprise of her life when she was not only informed that the man being carted away was an infamous serial killer, but that the people she was questioning had actually solved the Stanley Riggs case too.
Garrett confirmed it all, explaining that he’d temporarily taken credit at their insistence to protect their identities from the very serial killer who came after them mere hours later. Though her head looked like it might spontaneously combust, Broughton managed to keep a straight face and
take copious notes. Jessie felt bad for her. She wasn’t going to be sleeping at all tonight.
“How’s Sheriff Kazansky going to react to all these revelations?” Ryan asked Rich McClane once Broughton stepped out.
“Don’t worry about that,” Rich replied. “I’ll just suggest that he take credit for it. He can tell the press that this was part of a secret strategy to protect fellow law enforcement officers from another jurisdiction; that he actually intended the whole thing as a trap to capture the Night Hunter, a trap that worked. Trust me, he’ll love it.”
With that issue seemingly resolved, Jessie consented to let the EMTs re-check her neck. As they wrapped up, a black SUV arrived at Rich’s cabin. Their old buddies, U.S. Marshals Sam Mason and Tommy Anderson, emerged and helped them relocate from what was a crime scene to a different cottage.
It was a courtesy that they had even come. The threat that had brought them here was gone. They could have told everyone to hop in the car and leave right then, but they took pity on the haggard crew and let them stay overnight to get some sleep. Still, until they were safely returned to L.A. tomorrow, their supervisor and Jessie’s one-time guardian angel, U.S. Marshal Patrick Murphy, had instructed the men not to leave Jessie alone.
When she finally managed to drift off to sleep, it was well after 3 a.m. She slept fitfully, dreaming of giraffes running in the snow and somewhere behind them, a hunter.