Quintic (75 page)

“
Cops don’t
know shit about what she can do, but I do. I left her there, and
she got hurt. My fault.” Yes, he had left her in the hospital with
a cop standing watch, but even if she was alone and drugged, the
policeman had never stood a chance. The jerk never noticed she had
escaped.

“
You know
I’m crazy about that babe, but fuck, Chris, it’s partly her fault
she got hurt. She had no business−”

“
Fuck, Le!
W
e both know that’s never stopped her
before. It’s my fault. And hers too, yes, but mostly mine.”
Absolutely his. “She played me, and, like a chump, I left her in
the care of a clueless dick.”

“
She didn’t
play you;
you had her clothes, money and
phone.”

“
I had
fucking shit! S
he had weapons stashed in
a backpack Frankke brought her! Fucking Frankke! I should have
searched that bag.”

“You know tailing her’s already
out there on the stalker chart, right? You start searching her
stuff, she’ll think you don’t trust her or something.”

He did trust
her
, with his life, his heart, his
sanity, but maybe not with
her
life. “Look, Le, I’m not
beating myself up. What’s done’s done. I’m just planning for next
time.”

“Maybe she’ll decide she wants
to be a librarian next.”

“
No fucking
way.”

On the drive
back fr
om the precinct, he replayed the
night’s events in his mind for the thousandth time. Learning and
planning. In his mind, he
saw
MacCarmick standing watch in
front of the hospital, catching her leave and following
her.

F
irst to the sex shop.
“
I thought you were in for a
special surprise, Chris. To think I almost left!
”

Thank
f
uck, MacCarmick hadn’t pulled back but
followed her instead to Ingrid.

“The babe often crashed there when she’s avoiding you.
Maybe the sex shop trip had been too much; maybe she wanted some
pointers from the old broad. How the fuck should I have
known?
”

MacCarmick
was tailing her still w
hen she had taken
Ingrid’s car.

“At that moment, I was still convinced my long-time pal
MacLaren was about to get very lucky. She fooled me! I, MacCarmick,
the ever cynical and suspicious fucking asshole, I never suspected
what she was about to do.
”

Her plan was
so fucking unexpected, so far out, so crazy, so dangerous, who
could have known? No one, or perhaps him? Had she not said earlier
that day that she was happy the cops didn’t have a clue? She had
not been talking strictly about the diner murders then.

MacCarm
ick had called almost too
late, as he followed her en route to nowhere in one of the town’s
worse neighbourhoods. When his bud had described her path over the
phone, as she, then MacCarmick had driven by that sleazy strip
club, Chris had known he was a step behind once again. Two steps.
Too many fucking steps behind.

MacCarmick
nearly lost her after
that. “
Her driving’s a bit
erratic, man. You sure she didn’t get high at the
hospital?
”

MacCarmick
had
caught up with her at the car shop.
“
Wait, there she
is
,” MacCarmick’s tensed voice called
over his earpiece. Chris was already in his car by that time, in
only his pants, barefoot to the floor. “
Fuck, she just climbed into the second-floor window of
some car shop.
”

“Go after her, don’t leave her alone,
” he had yelled, urging M
acCarmick for play-by-play description. Thankfuckinggod,
MacCarmick was her tail that night. MacCarmick, who wasn’t a cop
and hadn’t run in with guns drawn yelling, “
Cops!
”

“Front. Steel door. Lock
.” A grunt, then MacCarmick’s voice whispered,
“
And secured
.”

“Back. Steel door. Secured
,” came
seconds later

Chris had
found
both front and back doors jammed
with the front, a rod, the back, a pipe jammed between the handle
and the ground. The only way out now was through the second-floor
windows; steel bars protected the ground-floor windows.

“Ground floor is dark. Looks empty
.”

Chris
had arrived in time to see a surprisingly limber
Mac take Patricia’s way, up on the car, up on the carport, up
through the window. Chris had taken the same route to find his
friend waiting for him in the window room. A bedroom from the look
of it, and not very tidy.

The
bedroom door was closed. Television played on
the other side loudly enough to almost cover the sounds of
conversation. Two voices, both male.

Mac
had stopped him from wrenching the door open
when a single gunshot, the sound of a slap and a loud crash had
come in rapid succession. His buddy had locked eyes with him,
probably kept him from getting killed, and maybe kept
her
from
getting caught in the middle.

Laughers had
come next through the door. Male laughs, only fucking male. His
friend had cracked open the door silently and peeked in for two
seconds. Signalled with his hands body

“Two men,
” his
forefinger and middle fingers said. He faced forward, then turned
back. “
One facing the door;
the other with his back to it,
” his posture meant. He made a gun with his hand.
“
One with a weapon in hand
cop-type.
” Then he shook his
two hands. “
The other is hand
free.
” He patted his sides,
then his lower back. “
Both
have shoulder holsters. One weapon visible in the back guy’s
back.
” Finally, his lips
mouthed the words silently, “
Broken bookcase. No signs of Patricia
.” The silent description took less than ten
seconds.

The two of
them versus the two of us, Chris had thought. Good odds, almost
easy if not for Patricia. She could have been anywhere in the
place. They hadn’t heard her, but she couldn’t have gone out.
Either she was hiding someplace or− Chris couldn’t think of
an
or
. Didn’t want to think of one; he had made it over too
fast. He would not allow an
or
!

He had taken
a deep breath and steadied himself. His turn to take a look and
study each man’s exact height, built, stance and
position.

He
glanced through the crack and stood frozen for a
nanosecond before wrenching the door open and jumping in,
shooting.

As if he had
anticipated his reaction, MacCarmick had gone in right behind him
to cover him, but by that time, the show was over.

Chris
had taken both men by surprise. He had shot the
one with the gun first, the one with the pants down, and then the
other, the one watching, before running to her side.

She
had been lying on the floor, hidden by the
couch, with only her hand sticking out at the farthest end amongst
the debris of the bookcase. Panic had washed over him at the sight
of her delicate hand covered in blood.

His hands
still
tingled from the feel of her as he
had kneeled by her side, brushing her hair away from her face,
touching her head, her face, her body, roaming over her lithe frame
looking for wounds.

When she had
c
ome to and recognised him, seen his
hands red with her blood, she had lost it. She had grabbed him and
screamed and cried. It had taken him a long time to reassure her.
The fucking bastard had not seriously injured her, bloodied her,
yes, but not severely wounded, not physically at least.

His After

T
he damn woman had freaked
because she thought the creep had hurt
him
. MacCarmick had taken
over the scene and phoned LeRoy. LeRoy had called Frankke. Frankke
had driven over with Hamilton. Ham had relieved MacCarmick. His
buddy had disappeared after removing the rod and pipe. Shortly
after, Frankke had left at the wheel of Ingrid’s car.

Only then,
had he, Ham and LeRoy summoned, Steve. And Steve had called the
locals. At some point between LeRoy’s arrival and MacCarmick’s
discreet departure, they had called for an ambulance. Patricia was
on her way out of the place when Steve had joined the
party.

He had
planned on the next steps with his men. LeRoy rode back with
Patricia to the hospital while he and Ham stayed behind to meet the
locals with Steve. And Internal.

His
story was pretty straight-forward.

“We’ve located a guy wanted for questioning on the Lemieux
and stripper murders
,” he had told
Internal. His girlfriend, his team, hence his job to do the lying.
“
A female collaborator had
identified the suspect. They had had a previous brush in, and she
was afraid the man was going to press charges. Some shit at a the
stripper club, Steve over there has that case. Plus, she was
attacked two nights ago while closing a cold case for my team. From
what I understand, she intended to confront the jerk. Stoned from
the medication, she decided the middle of the night was as good a
time as any. Women, right?
” Internal had
nodded, noncommittal. “
We let
her near the guy. Gave her a few minutes head start to see if her
showing up was enough to convince the guy to turn himself
in
.”

“She was bait
,” Internal had
underlined.

“Sort of
.” As if he would ever
agree to her being used as a lure.
Over my dead body, Angel
.

“Got the paperwork?
” Internal
didn’t give a shit about anyone getting hurt as long as the proper
release forms had been signed.

“What do you take me for? A fucking
rookie
?”
You ain’t going to catch me this time either,
assholes
. Why hadn’t those jerks hassle
the dirty cops instead of poking their noses in after the
fact?
We, and that
we
include her did your fucking jobs for you.

“Sorry, Chief MacLaren. Please, go on
.”

All through
the men from Internal remained polite. He had had more than his
share of meetings with Internal in his career, but they had yet to
blame him for anything. “
As
agreed, we gave her five minutes. When she didn’t come out, we
moved in
.”

“At all times, she had police tagging her
.”

“Is that a question? Because you’re starting to piss me off
here
.”

“I apologise. Please, continue
.”

“How come you guys didn’t do anything about those assholes
before today?”
Internal met
his question with silence.
“Right. That’s what I thought. Jerks can be as dirty as
they want as long as they’re not on your watch, am I right? Fucking
great, guys! Three shots fired. Fatso number one aimed at me. I
shot him. Fatso number two wanted to retaliate, so I shot him
too
.
Any additional enlightening questions, or can I go back to
doing my fucking job?”

Over the
course of Internal’s i
nvestigation, they
identified Creep’s buddy as an ex-cop, Creep’s last partner before
both were let go from the force.

In all, the
cops retrieved five guns and one stun gun at the scene. One was in
Creep’s holster, one in Ugly’s holster, and three on the floor near
the bodies. Two of the guns had Creep’s fingerprints on them, and
two, the partner’s. The techs found no fingerprints on the stun
gun.

Without
surprise, the autopsy revealed both Creep and Ugly
had died from a straight shot to the heart.
Expertise confirmed the killing bullets came from Chris’s gun. The
techs found powder residue on Creep’s hand. A preliminary visual
was noted at the scene; the autopsy also confirmed that both men
were sexually aroused prior to their deaths. Semen smeared Ugly’s
sexual organ, briefs and pants.

Since
Patricia was unconscious when the shooting had occurred, Chris had
filled her in on the official story for Internal (the only story
she needed to know). Her role in the events, he pieced from details
she let out, things she said in her sleep or wrote, mostly things
she wrote.

H
e was so damn close
that her mouth tasted of blood. She willed herself not to
think.
Go
. She stormed in on the fat ugly creep. As in those silly
action shows, she almost yelled cop-like, “
Freeze!
”