The Lonely Mile (29 page)

Bill whistled, doing the math quickly in his head. “She told me she found Krall and turned him after his first couple of kidnappings and murders. That means she was involved in ten successful cases. If she made anything close to what you think, that’s well over a half-million dollars!”

Miller nodded. “And tax-free, too.”

“Between the damage done to her as a child by her mother’s boyfriend and the lure of all that cash, maybe it’s not too terribly surprising how she turned out. What about Krall? Do you think he was making the same kind of money per transaction as Canfield?”

“I doubt it,” Miller answered. “His motivations weren’t strictly, or even mostly, monetary. This is a guy who was sexually assaulting and murdering young women before he was co-opted by Angela—uh, excuse me, by Agent Canfield. We’re combing his bank records and personal information, too, as we speak, but my guess is he earned just a small fraction of the money being paid to Canfield. The lure for him was the opportunity to get his rocks off with a different girl every couple of months, and then be rid of her in a way that virtually eliminated all risk—the evidence was out of the country and on its way to the Middle East. And to top it off, his partner was the agent in charge of the investigation and the search for ‘The I-90 Killer.’”

“Obviously why Krall got away with it for so long,” Bill said.

“That’s right. By the way,” Miller continued, “I spoke to the doctors. I know they shouldn’t have told me anything, but they did. Perk of the job, I guess. I understand Carli wasn’t…” He looked at Bill uncomfortably.

“No,” Bill said. “She wasn’t raped. Somehow, she managed to escape the fate that the other victims suffered. I guess the sick bastard’s libido was dampened a bit when she sliced his arm to the bone like a Thanksgiving turkey. But I’m pretty sure he was about to get down to business when I walked in on him.”

“She’s one strong young lady,” Miller said. “A hero. You must be proud of her.”

“You have no idea,” Bill agreed. “I always knew she was special, but even I didn’t realize exactly how special.” A companionable silence descended on the hospital room. Outside, Bill could hear nurses, doctors, and family members walking the halls. He wanted to see Carli but felt the pull of exhaustion and pain medication dragging him toward a deep sleep.

He forced his eyes open once more and focused on Agent Miller, who he could see was taking the news about Canfield just as hard as he was. Creases lined the man’s face from lack of sleep and worry, and he looked like he had aged ten years in just a couple of days. Bill knew he must have felt betrayed by Angela Canfield, too. He had no doubt now that she would have used her partner in the same way she used him if she thought she could benefit from it.

It didn’t really matter, though. She was gone and she wasn’t coming back, and maybe that was a good thing, for Angela Canfield as well as for him.

Bill smiled. The smile was returned by Agent Miller, albeit tiredly. “Do us all a favor,” Bill told him, “and go round up the rest of those sickos responsible for my daughter
having
to be a hero before even celebrating her eighteenth birthday.”

“We’ll do our best, of that I can promise you.”

Bill nodded. “I hope you nail every one of those suckers to a wall.”

“Even if we do,” Miller said reluctantly, “another organization will crawl out from under a rock to fill the void. It’s a sad state of affairs, but true. Human nature, I suppose.”

“Maybe so, but I still want to see every last one of those scumbags pay. That’s human nature, too.”

CHAPTER 62

June 4

STEAK SIZZLED ON THE gas grill, popping and hissing as it broiled to juicy perfection. Bill wobbled, leaning on one crutch, flipping the two T-bones onto their raw side before slamming the lid back down on the grill and flopping awkwardly into his outdoor lounge chair. He flipped a pass to Carli, the football making a lazy arc through the air to his daughter, who caught it and rifled a pass back immediately, like Tom Brady finding the open receiver.

To Bill and Sandra’s amazement, Carli had shown virtually no lingering ill effects from the twenty-eight hour ordeal she suffered at the hands of the now-dead I-90 Killer. Bill guessed it was due to the fact that she had been able to fight back rather than being helplessly victimized. And saving the lives of both herself and her father, while escaping relatively unscathed, couldn’t have hurt either.

The point, though, was that his little girl, his only child, was not going to be permanently crippled, either emotionally or physically, and for that Bill would be eternally grateful. A psychologist who had examined her informed them she might suffer nightmares for months or even years to come, but so far—if Carli was to be believed—that had not been the case. Bill believed her.

He reached up to catch the football one-handed, wrenching his injured arm, and nearly falling backward out of his chair onto the lawn, when a plain-blue Chevrolet Caprice turned into the apartment parking lot. Gravel crunched under the tires as the driver pulled the vehicle into an empty space and killed the engine.

Bill lofted the football toward the vehicle, and its driver leapt out of the car and caught it on the fly like the tight end he had once been. Instead of passing it back, though, Mike Miller tucked the ball into the crook of his arm and carried it toward Bill and Carli, stopping in front of them with a grin. “I was afraid to pass it to you. Don’t want to get sued for knocking you onto your back and busting your stitches while I’m on duty,” he explained.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Bill shot back. “I took on two psychopaths with guns, remember? I can handle one Feeb.”

“Remember? How could I forget? The entire Bureau will have to sit through lectures and training films about your little adventure for years.”

“Hey, don’t forget about me!” Carli chimed in. “I helped, too.” She bounded up behind Miller and wrenched the football out of his arms.

“Care to join us for dinner?” Bill asked. “I just happen to have an extra steak in the fridge upstairs. It might take me a while to get it with these crutches, but maybe my hero, the young lady who pulled my butt out of the fire, would be willing to handle that chore for me.”

“That would be great!” Carli enthused. “Join us! It will only take a second to get the third steak, and we just started cooking, really!”

Bill laughed. His daughter’s attraction to the agent was obvious, both to him as well as to Miller, and he waited a moment, enjoying the man’s obvious discomfort. Finally, he said, “You know, Carli, Agent Miller just told us he was still on duty. He probably only has a couple of minutes to spare.”

“Yes!” Miller agreed. “Just a couple of minutes. Maybe another time, though,” he added quickly when he saw Carli’s dejected expression.

“So, what can we do for you?” Bill asked, knowing already what the answer would be.

“I thought you might like an update on the case.”

“Yeah, we would. Shoot. No, wait, let me rephrase that. I don’t think I like that expression anymore. Let’s try this one: Go ahead.”

Miller laughed. “Remember I told you we had a very young-looking agent from the Albany Field Office who was going to be our decoy during the exchange?”

“Of course,” Bill and Carli answered in unison.

“Well, Agent Adkins played the part of the teenage damsel in distress perfectly.” Carli playfully slapped at his arm and he ducked out of harm’s way. “She acted completely helpless. Nothing at all like Carli,” he added as he dodged another body blow.

“That’s more like it,” she sniffed indignantly.

“Anyway,” Miller continued, “Two men came to gather ‘Carli,’ arriving at the storage area about two hours after our fake Krall tied her up and left her inside. One of the men stayed in the car to cover the storage shed’s entrance while the other went inside to collect their prize. We disabled the man outside the shed as soon as the other one disappeared from view and took the second man down without incident immediately afterward.

“The whole operation went off without a hitch and took no more than three minutes from beginning to end, once the bad guys got there. It was really pretty boring compared to what you two went through.”

“Boring is good,” Bill said simply.

“Absolutely. The best part, though, is that the two men we apprehended were just foot soldiers, hired muscle who have absolutely no interest in taking the fall for their employers. They’re singing like proverbial canaries. We believe we will be able to use the information they are giving us to take down a lot of very bad people.

“Do you remember what I told you in the hospital?” Miller asked Bill. “You know, about more cockroaches crawling out from under more rocks to take the place of the ones we capture?”

“I remember,” Bill said. “And it still ticks me off.”

“Amen to that. And I’m still certain it will happen, eventually. But we’re in the process of knocking a very big hole in this particular venture. It’s going to be a long, long time before anyone can ramp up a similar operation. We owe you a debt of gratitude, not that you’ll ever get it from the Bureau. If my bosses find out I said this, I’ll deny it, but last week, you two saved innumerable young women from suffering lives of untold misery. You should be commended. Unofficially, of course. Officially,” Miller said, grinning at Bill, “what you did—going after a serial rapist-slash-murderer on your own—was foolish and irresponsible and cannot be condoned under any circumstances.” He sounded like he was reading from a script.

Bill laughed. “‘Foolish and irresponsible.’ Now you sound like my ex-wife.”

“Speaking of ex-wives…” Carli interrupted.

“Yes?” Bill said. “Do you have a deep, dark secret you need to confess? Perhaps an ex-wife of your own stashed away somewhere?”

Carli laughed. “No, silly, I was referring to
your
ex-wife, specifically. You know, my mom.”

Agent Miller began edging toward his car. “This sounds personal. I should probably be going.”

“No, stay, just for another couple of minutes,” Carli begged. “I want you to hear this, too.”

Miller stopped backing up, and he and Bill waited expectantly for more. Carli took a deep breath and continued. “I’ve decided what I want to do with my life.”

“Awesome. But what does this have to do with your mom?”

“I need you to convince her I’m serious.”

“Okay, fair enough. Serious about what, exactly?’

“I want to get into law enforcement.”

Bill smiled as Miller whooped. “Hey,” the agent said, “Welcome to the team!” He gave her a high five. “How soon can you start?”

“Uh, I think I need to graduate high school first. Unless—”

“There’s no ‘unless,’” Bill laughed. “Yes, you need to finish high school. Then, get a college degree. Then, after that, if your goal is to pursue a career in law enforcement, I’m sure we can convince your mom to go along.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Carli said. “She hasn’t stopped hovering since I came home.”

“That’ll change,” Bill said. “You were incredibly, unbelievably lucky to escape with your life, and it’s going to take some time for everyone—your mom especially—to come to grips with what happened to you. But I guarantee that, if you decide you want to dedicate your life to a career in law enforcement, your mom will be just like me: crazy proud, and supporting you all the way.

“In the meantime,” Bill said, “I believe these steaks are just about grilled to perfection. And in light of this big news,” he winked at Miller, “I’d like to extend our offer of dinner one more time to Agent Miller. We’ve got ice-cold soda inside, not to mention coffee, and baked potatoes, and corn on the cob. What do you say?”

“You had me at ‘steak.’ Besides, I think I’d better start getting to know my future partner a little better. I’m in!”

Carli beamed, and Bill expertly speared the steaks with a long grilling fork, flipping them onto a serving tray in one smooth motion. He handed the platter to his daughter and settled onto his crutches, ready to tackle the narrow stairs up to his tiny apartment where they would add another place setting at the small kitchen table. The place was cramped and hot, and it was the scene of a memory of Angela Canfield that he would just as soon forget.

But, right now, none of that mattered. Carli was alive, and she was going to be fine, and that was all that mattered.

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I’ve been fascinated by the power of the written word my whole life, penning my first thriller somewhere around the age of ten. In this short story, a young man gets lost in the woods during a fierce winter snowstorm and his body is found months later huddled against a tree, a single teardrop frozen onto his dead cheek. I suppose this gives you a fairly accurate insight into my genre sensibilities.

I attended the University of Notre Dame with the intention of majoring in newspaper journalism before changing direction after my freshman year and majoring in Business Administration, a degree I received in 1981 and have to this day never put to use.

After graduation, and despite having never set foot inside an airplane, I was hired by the Federal Aviation Administration and began training as an air traffic controller, a job I have held ever since, working in Providence, Rhode Island, Bangor, Maine, and, for the last twenty years controlling traffic at Boston’s Logan International Airport.

I am a proud member of the
International Thriller Writers
,
New England Horror Writers
and
Short Mystery Fiction Society
, I live in Londonderry, New Hampshire with my beautiful wife of nearly thirty years, Sue, our three children, one granddaughter, and Midnight the Miracle Cat, who has survived more adventures than the rest of us combined.

Electronic Edition Copyright ©2011 by Allan Leverone

All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher.