The Beginning (68 page)

“Yes, I hear you.” He was on her left, some thirty feet away. Marlin was only about ten to twelve feet away, at about ten o'clock. Imagine anything making Erasmus's skin crawl.

She'd wrapped about six lengths of string around her hand. String, she thought. All she had was a handful of string to take out two killers with three guns. She loosened the string, making it into a large enough circle so she could loop it over Marlin's head. No, it had to be even bigger. It took time.

She felt bile in her throat and swallowed. She couldn't, wouldn't give up until he killed her. She thought of Dillon. He'd go nuts if Marlin killed her.

He'd already had one woman he loved leave him.

She wasn't about to let Marlin kill her.

The light was steady now, becoming brighter with each step she took. It was from a narrow beam of light he'd strung some eight feet overhead. She was nearly to the center of the maze now. She heard Hannah moan. She heard Marlin's breathing. Hannah moaned louder. The moans weren't from pain. Hannah was giving her directions. Yes, both she and Marlin were at about ten o'clock. She could picture him standing over Hannah, the Magnum in his hand, a big smile on his face. Waiting for her. He couldn't wait. Where was Erasmus? Had he moved at all?

“Hannah? Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

“I'm all right, Sherlock.” Then she moaned again, a nice lusty moan. “The bastard kicked me.”

“Hang in there, please, hang in there.”

And she knew that Hannah was thinking frantically. She knew whatever she tried, Hannah would help her if she could.

There was no sound now except for Marlin's jerky deep breathing.

Had Dillon found her message? Had he even gone to her house yet? Of course he had. She swallowed. Nearly there. Nearly to Marlin.

She stepped into bright light, two spotlights shining directly into her face. She shaded her eyes with her right hand. In her left hand was the string, ready now, if only he didn't see it, if only she had time and opportunity.

“Hello, Marty,” he said, nearly gasping with pleasure. “You're here.”

He was standing beside Hannah, his chest puffed out, looking very proud of himself. He looked happy. His eyes were dead and glittered. He was grinning at her.

She grinned back at him. “Hi, you little fucker. How's tricks? Have you killed any more women since you escaped that madhouse in Boston?”

He lurched, as if she'd gut-punched him. “It wasn't a madhouse!”

“Sure it was. It was the state madhouse.”

“I was just there to talk to some shrinks, nothing else. I was visiting for a little while.”

“If that judge hadn't been such an idiot, they'd have you right now in a padded cell. You know what else? They'd shackle your legs together and walk you right out of your padded cell to the electric chair. Then they'd fry you. It will still happen, Marlin. Can you imagine the pain, Marlin?”

“Damn you, shut up! Be quiet! Show some respect for me. I won, damn you, I won! Not you. You're standing there, nothing going for you this time. I'm the big winner. You're nothing, Marty, nothing at all.”

“That's right, Marlin, you've won. Even though you haven't had any women walk to the center of your maze since your escape, you've still managed to kill very dangerous and very heavily armed homeless people and teenagers. That's real brave of you, Marlin. Real manly. You make me puke.”

“No, that was my pa!”

“Same difference. You're his very image.”

He was panting now, trying to hold himself back, and she pushed harder. “You know what, Marlin? I once thought you were pretty good-looking. You know what you look like now? You look like you're ready to drip saliva from your mouth. Is that true? Are you ready to froth at the mouth, Marlin? I've never seen a sorrier excuse for a man in my life.”

He snapped, ran at her, the knife raised. Hannah jerked from her left to her right side, whipped up her bound legs and tripped him. He went sprawling, sliding on his stomach almost to Sherlock's feet. She was on him in an instant, looping the thick knotted string around his throat. She had her knee in the small of his back, pulling back on the string, bringing his face off the wooden floor. She knew it was cutting deep into his neck.

“Hannah, where's his gun?”

“Hannah can't get it, Marty.”

She turned slowly to see Erasmus holding Hannah's head back at an impossible angle. He had her hair wrapped around his left hand. His right hand held a twelve-inch hunting knife to her throat. “Let my boy go, Marty.”

“I will if you release Hannah. Now, Erasmus.”

He shook his head slowly. The knife point punched into Hannah's skin. A drop of blood welled up and trickled down to disappear into her running top. Lacey saw no fear on her face; what she saw was some kind of message in her eyes. What?

“You release him real slow, Marty, or the knife goes all the way in.”

“The knife goes all the way in, Erasmus, and your sweet boy here is dead.” She twisted the string. Marlin gurgled. His face was darkening. She jerked back his head so his daddy could see him. He thrashed with his arms and legs, but he couldn't dislodge her.

Erasmus screamed, “You bitch! Loosen the knot! You're choking him, he's turning blue!”

Suddenly, Hannah sent her elbow back with all her strength into Erasmus's stomach.

He yelled, loosened his grip just a bit, just enough so Hannah could roll away from him and that hunting knife.

There was a single shot, loud and hot in the heavy silent air. Erasmus took the bullet in the middle of his forehead. He stared toward Sherlock, surprise widening his eyes even in his own death. Slowly, so very slowly, he fell forward. Hannah rolled out of his way. He landed on his face. They heard his nose break, loud and obscene in the silence.

“Pa! Damn you, you killed my pa!”

Marlin jerked back, grabbed Sherlock's wrists and pulled her over his head. She landed on her back, winded. Marlin was on her, sitting on her chest, leaning into her face, his knife right under her nose.

“I've got you now, bitch. You killed my pa and now I'll kill you and then that other bitch.”

“No, you won't cut me, Marlin. It's too late. The cops are here. One of them shot your pa.”

Marlin jerked up and brought down the knife.

“Sherlock, flatten!”

She pressed as hard as she could into the floor even as she heard the gun crack, loud in her ears. It was a very hard shot to make without hitting her in the process. Marlin had been so close to her, they'd had to hold off until they got a better angle. She felt Marlin jerk over her. She knocked him off her, sending him onto his back. The bullet hit him in the back of the neck.

She rolled and came up on her elbows next to him. He was looking up at her. “Tell me how you did it.”

“I left him a message. In my purse, in the floor of the shower. I wrote it in eyebrow pencil on the inside of my makeup bag.” She looked up. “Dillon, keep everyone away. I've got to talk to him. Just for a moment.”

She leaned right into Marlin's face. “Did you kill Belinda?”

He grinned up at her. Blood flowed from his nose and mouth. But he didn't look to be in any pain.

“Did you, Marlin? Did you kill Belinda?”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

“So I can judge which of you is the better man, Marlin, you or your daddy. I can't really until you tell me about Belinda. Did you kill her?”

He looked away from her, upward, but the ceiling was dark, impenetrable. What was he looking at? “You want to know what she did, Marty?”

“What did she do?”

“She killed my kid. Oh yeah, she tried to tell me it was a miscarriage, but I know she killed the kid because she was scared it would be all crazy even before it was born. She told me about her pa being a loony. She told me she'd have to be nuts herself to have a kid I fathered. That's why she killed my kid. She told me she wanted the kid, she didn't care if it was crazy, but then she went and she killed it.”

His eyes were vague and wide. She leaned close. “Listen to me, Marlin. Belinda didn't abort your baby. Her husband hit her and she miscarried. It wasn't her fault. It was Douglas's fault. He probably found out the baby wasn't his and he hit her.”

“I knew I should have killed that jerk. He couldn't father a kid, at least he hadn't been able to with her. Belinda told me he had this real low sperm count.”

“You knew I was Belinda's sister, didn't you, Marlin?”

“Not at first. I recognized you when you came to the hospital. Then I knew who you were.”

“But how?”

“You were just a teenager then, but we did have fun with you. I took Belinda to see my maze, made her promise she'd scream and groan and carry on, all for your benefit, to punish you for hiding in the trunk, for spying on us. You really pissed Belinda off.”

He closed his eyes and sucked in air. Blood trickled out of his mouth as he whispered, “We drove to the warehouse and Belinda pulled you out of the trunk, told you that you'd been captured and you'd have to walk the walk with her. She told you she was going to die, die because of you, but she prayed that you'd survive. You were sobbing and pleading with me, but Belinda pulled you into the warehouse and kept you with her. She screamed real good for you, then she even let me pretend to knife her when you got to the center of the maze, and you saw it all. You collapsed then. Nobody touched you. You just fell over. Belinda got scared but I told her you were a nosy teenager and you'd get over it. When we got back to Belinda's house, you were still unconscious.

“Belinda told me later you never remembered a thing. She felt guilty about doing that to you. Even though you were a sneak, she loved you. She realized you admired Douglas and were afraid she'd leave him for me. But then she killed my kid. Then I had to kill her. I had no choice at all. She had to die. She betrayed me.”

“It was a miscarriage. You killed her and she didn't deserve it. You made a big mistake, Marlin.”

“I believed she'd betrayed me. I had to kill her but I didn't really want to.”

“She didn't betray you.”

He opened his mouth again and a fountain of blood spurted out. Blood flowed from his nose.

Sherlock positioned his head back, then leaned really close to his face. “It's over now, Marlin. You've destroyed quite enough. Yes, Marlin, die now.”

He tried to raise his hand, but couldn't. He whispered, his voice liquid with his blood, “You sure are pretty, Marty. Not as pretty as Belinda, but still pretty.”

His head fell to the side, his eyes still open, a small smile on his mouth.

She looked up to see Dillon standing not two feet away from them. There were at least twenty other police officers and special agents in a circle around the center of the maze. No one was moving. No one said a word.

She smiled up at him. “No more questions. No more mysteries. He killed Belinda. He told me so and he told me why.” All this time—seven long years—she'd driven herself, felt consumed with guilt. All this time she hadn't remembered that Belinda had forced her into Marlin's maze.

She couldn't dredge up a single memory of that night, even after being told what had happened. She wondered if she'd ever remember, even under hypnosis. Well, it didn't matter. Belinda had been dead for seven years. Her murderer was dead. Lacey's life was her own again. And she had Dillon. She had a future.

“Yes,” Dillon said. “We all heard him confess. It's over, Sherlock.”

“Who shot Marlin?”

A grizzled old cop raised his hand. “Sorry I had to wait so long but I couldn't get a clean shot.”

“You did perfectly.” She looked at Hannah. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine now.” She was standing beside Dillon, leaning against him.

Lacey looked at her. “Thanks for tripping Marlin. That was really well done. I wasn't quite sure how to get him low enough to loop him. I knew you'd be ready. You'd best stand up straight now, Hannah. I don't want you leaning against Dillon ever again. You got me?”

Hannah laughed, a raw ugly sound that was quite beautiful. “I hear you, Sherlock. I hear you really well. I thought you might be mean once it occurred to you. Good going.”

Sherlock slowly stood up. Marlin's blood was all over her. She looked around at the circle of faces.

She was alive.

She gave them all a huge smile. “Thank you all for saving our lives. Mr. Maitland, sir, we finally got him.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jimmy Maitland said, then punched Lewis Jacobs and laughed. Soon everyone was laughing, even as they held their weapons in their hands, their relief, their triumph, made them shout with laughter.

Jimmy Maitland said, “I wanted to say that since I first saw your name among the new trainees. I love it. Does anyone know where that line's from?”