The Prophet (35 page)

Mr. O’Malley’s room matched Allen’s, except that O’Malley’s had two beds instead of one. The door was open and Maggie could see O’Malley carefully gathering his things. Bandages covered his face and hands. She could see the red, irritated skin around his eyes and mouth. His lips were cracked and bloody. But, all things considered, he was lucky to be alive.

She knocked on the door, and he turned toward her. His eyes were angry at first, and she couldn’t fault him for the emotion. But the anger quickly drained away, and he forced a smile onto his cracked lips. When he spoke, his thick Irish brogue came out in a hoarse crackling like the crunching of dried leaves. “Miss Maggie, I hoped that I would get a chance to thank you properly for saving my life. When you checked on me in the ambulance, I was a bit out of sorts.”

She smiled. “I would expect that you were, but there’s no reason to thank me.”

“Oh, now, don’t give me a line about
just my job
or
all in a day’s work
. I’d be dead now if it weren’t for you. And not only that, but your quick reaction allowed me to escape with only second-degree burns. A miracle, in my opinion. Saving a man’s life is not a small thing where I come from. It’s a debt that can never be repaid.”

“I just wish that I would have caught the man that did this to you.”

“Aye, I still don’t understand why he attacked me like that. I had always sensed a bit of tension because I was so close to his kids. Maybe a little jealousy at our relationship, but nothing that would warrant something like this.”

“Is there anything that
does
warrant setting another man on fire?”

“I suppose not. Speaking of Schofield’s family, has there been any word from them? While I’ve been lying here that’s been my biggest concern.”

Maggie knew that Marcus wouldn’t like her giving away any information about the family, but she truly felt for O’Malley. He was just a warm-hearted neighbor whose kindness had earned him a body covered in burns and a near-death experience. He deserved to know. But still, she hesitated. “I’m sorry. I haven’t heard anything.”

His face fell. Up to that point, he had seemed downright jovial for a man in his position, but now he seemed on the verge of tears. His voice cracked a bit as he said, “If you hear anything, please let me know. I don’t think that I’ll be able to sleep a wink until those kids are home safe. I had a daughter at one time, but she died before I could be blessed with grandchildren. But I think of Alison, Melanie, and Benjamin like they were my own kin, and I’ve been worried sick about them.”

Her heart went out to him. He had been through enough, and he should be able to rest and recuperate in peace. “Mr. O’Malley, what I’m about to tell you is just between us. For their own safety, you can’t tell anyone about this.”

His eyes lit up, and he took a hurried step forward. “Do you know where they are?”

“Yes, we have them in a safe location.”

“Oh, praise the Lord, you get to be my savior for the second time in as many days.” His face took on a pensive look. “Do you think there’s any chance that I could pay them a visit? I’m sure that poor Eleanor is feeling guilty about what her husband did to me. She may not seem so on the outside, but she’s delicate. I want her to know that I hold no ill will. And at a time like this, those kids could really use some stability. Something to show them that their world hasn’t been turned completely upside down.”

“I don’t think that would be possible.”

“You’ve already done so much for me. I truly hate to ask for more, but I can guarantee you that it would be very much appreciated by us all. I know that I could help them to get through this terrible and dark time.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t—”

“Please, I’d be happy to wear a blindfold so that I won’t know where you’re keeping them. I’d do anything. Please, just a half an hour could make a world of difference.”

Maggie crossed her arms and looked deep into the old man’s eyes. The area of skin surrounding them was red and cracked, and she suspected that the bandages covered blisters and sores. O’Malley and the Schofield children had been through so much pain due to no fault of their own. And it couldn’t really hurt for her to try and bring a little light into that world.

“Hold on a minute.” She pulled out her phone and texted Marcus.

I told Mr. O’Malley that the Schofields are safe. He wants to see them.

She waited a few seconds, and then the reply came back.

What the hell were you thinking?

She growled deep in her throat, and her fingers flew over the virtual keyboard.

Dammit, Marcus. He’s been through a lot. They all have. I’m not asking. I’m telling.

She waited a long moment for his reply.
I don’t like it, but you always do what you want anyway. Just make it quick.

“Are you cleared to leave?” she said to O’Malley.

He grinned like a child at Christmas. “The doctor met with me a half-hour ago. I was waiting for an old friend to pick me up, but I’ll just call on the way and let him know that I won’t be needing a ride.”

Realizing how much of a sucker she was, she said, “Okay, but you can’t stay long.”

Ackerman watched as Maggie exited the elevator and headed toward the Kia Rio parked nearby. She had a man with her who was all covered in bandages as though he was the Invisible Man. But it didn’t really matter. Her guest was of little concern to him, whoever he was.

The killer’s heart was racing now, and he felt almost giddy with excitement. They stood on a precipice at the edge of great revelation and enlightenment. Events that he had been planning for nearly a year were about to be set in motion, and Maggie was an integral part of that equation.

In his own way, he had warned Marcus that this would happen. He had said that in order to control another person, one needed to threaten or take away what they loved. And Maggie was one of the few things in the world that Marcus loved.

Which meant that Ackerman would have to take her away.

He smiled as her car pulled past him and down the ramp. Then he slipped his own vehicle into gear and slid into traffic behind her.

For the meeting, Marcus had wanted a location where Schofield would be completely exposed and unable to escape. Somewhere public and accessible but still isolated. As he pulled down Columbus Drive and parked in view of Buckingham Fountain, he knew that he had made the right decision.

Nestled in the heart of Grant Park in downtown Chicago, Buckingham Fountain was one of the most famous landmarks in the city and the world’s largest illuminated fountain. Normally, one and a half million gallons of water filled the wedding-cake-style fountain, but every year in mid-October it was shut down and the water replaced with festival lights. With the blizzard in full force, there were no tourists piling from double-decker buses or snapping pictures of the landmark. The fountain had been completely abandoned, giving Marcus an unobstructed view of the entire area. He could see only one man in the distance standing at the rendezvous spot.

“Are you ready for this?” Marcus said to his passenger.

Stupak nodded, but the detective’s stare didn’t leave the man near the fountain. Marcus had instructed Stupak not to wear his suit, so the cop had come dressed in an elegant black button-down shirt tucked into designer khakis. Marcus wore a black zip-up hoodie and jeans and wondered if Stupak owned a simple sweatshirt.

“Stupak, you keep your mouth shut and follow my lead or you stay in the car. Do we understand each other?”

“Maybe we should have called in backup units to surround the area.”

“We don’t have time for that. This guy’s smart and wealthy. We bring him in, he’ll lawyer up instantly, and we’ll get nothing out of him.”

“What if he has friends up there waiting for us? It could be an ambush.”

“He wouldn’t risk his family. Besides, according to Schofield’s wife, Conlan wanted to sacrifice them and so Schofield isn’t drinking the Kool-Aid anymore. Who else could he get to back him up?”

“I just don’t like it.”

“We’re trying to trick a multiple murderer into helping us save the lives of a couple women that are going to be sacrificed to the devil within a few hours if we don’t find them. What’s to like about it?”

As Marcus pulled open his door, the cold wind assaulted him. He pulled his hood up over his Yankees cap and looked toward the city, but all he could see in the distance were vague outlines of buildings whose details were obscured in a white mist. The snow was falling so fast and hard that it made the city look like it was shrouded by a blanket of fog. There was a steady stream of traffic flowing on Columbus, but he still felt strangely isolated. It was as if some supernatural force had shaken a snow globe and made the millions of other people in the city disappear.

Shaking off the feeling, he headed toward the fountain and passed a long line of large stone pots. He guessed they were normally filled with flowers, but now they were compacted with mounds of snow. White-capped mazes of shrubbery formed the outer perimeter of the path leading to the fountain. There were no other footprints in sight. No one else was crazy enough to venture out into the park in weather like this.

By the time they had trekked halfway there, Marcus’s hands were freezing and his nose was running. The snow seemed to be pelting them from every angle. He kept his head low so the brim of his Yankees cap would take the brunt of the barrage.

Schofield stood beside the fountain, watching them approach. He wore a wool coat over a pair of blue and white coveralls and a baseball cap adorned with the SSA logo. His hands were in his pockets, and Marcus could see a bulge that could have been a weapon. When the distance between them had narrowed to about ten feet, Schofield said, “That’s far enough. Where’s my family?”

The other man’s directness impressed Marcus, especially since he knew how Schofield felt about confrontation. “They’re safe for now. You tell us the location of the Prophet and the missing women, and I’ll make sure they stay that way.”

Schofield eyed them through the snow. “I’ve seen you before. Both of you. I watched you at the crime scenes before you found my cameras. You’re cops.” The killer’s gaze swept over the surrounding area. Perhaps he was expecting to see other officers converging on their position. “You won’t hurt my family.”

“I know that Conlan wanted to kill them. Why protect him?”

“We’re done here.”

Schofield started to back away from them, but Marcus pulled the Sig Sauer from his coat. “You’re not going anywhere. Show me your hands.”

“I’d be careful what you ask for,” Schofield said. Then he slowly removed his hands from his pockets. There was a grenade in each fist, and the killer had already pulled the pins.

Maggie pulled the Kia up to the curb in front of the ugly blue house in Brighton Park. Marcus felt that he had gotten a great deal on the place, but in her opinion, the owner should have burned the little blue barn to the ground a long time ago. At least she didn’t have to sleep there. It made her skin crawl just having to step inside, and she felt even more sorry for the Schofield family that they were stuck in such horrid accommodations.

She had considered blindfolding O’Malley as he had suggested but decided against it. The sidewalks and stairs would be slick, and the last thing she wanted was to cause the old Irishman to fall and have to take another trip to the hospital.

The snow beat down on her as she made her way up the bright red steps onto the safe house’s porch. O’Malley’s coat had a hood, but Maggie suspected that the little projectiles of snow would still slip underneath. The pinpricks of cold had to be torture against his inflamed skin. She slipped on the walkway a few times and nearly went down. But O’Malley was surprisingly sure-footed and had no such problems.

She knocked, and within a moment, Andrew appeared at the door. He gave her a strange look and said, “Who’s your friend?” But the look in his eyes said something more like
Who’s the mummy?

“This is Mr. O’Malley. He’s the neighbor that Harrison Schofield attacked. I stopped in to visit him at the hospital, and we felt that it would be good for the kids to see a familiar face.” As she spoke the words, she realized that her choice of phrasing was odd since O’Malley’s
familiar face
was actually disfigured and covered with bandages.

“Does Marcus know about this?”

“I let him know. Can we come in now? It’s freezing out here.”

“Sure. Sorry about that.”

Andrew stepped back from the door, and Maggie followed him in. The smell assaulted her immediately, and she suppressed a shiver at the thought of the germs teeming over every surface. There was a kitchen table in the middle of the living room. It had been ripped from the 1970s with its light faux-wood top, along with four green chairs the color of pond scum. She stripped off her coat and reluctantly laid it over the back of one of the chairs.

“Are the Schofields here?” O’Malley said.

Andrew nodded. “They’re in the back bedroom. I’ll go get them.”

But O’Malley just smiled and said, “Allow me.”

Then, before Maggie even realized what was happening, O’Malley’s arm shot out and grabbed her sidearm from its place on her hip. He moved with startling speed and precision. In one smooth motion, the gun was in his hand, and he was bringing it up and against the side of her skull. Hard.

She saw it happen, but her mind still couldn’t comprehend the images passing in front of her eyes.

The pain lanced down the side of her face, and she stumbled back against the retro table.

When she looked back at her attacker, she saw Andrew reaching for his own gun. And then she saw Mr. O’Malley use her Glock to fire three 9mm bullets directly into Andrew’s chest.