The Shepherd (29 page)

Ackerman smiled and said, “You’re gonna have to do better the next time we meet. Play time’s over.”

Without warning, Ackerman swung out a powerful arm and swept Maggie backward over the railing.

Marcus stared in shock and disbelief as Maggie tumbled over the edge. Her scream pierced his heart as she plummeted toward the ground.

Within a split second, Ackerman jerked the black nylon rope attached to Maggie’s ankle. The killer used the railing as leverage as he held her in place. With his other hand, he raised the gun to Marcus and halted any advancement. Maggie dangled upside down a few feet below.

Marcus trained his gun on a spot between the killer’s eyes, but he couldn’t fire. If he did, the killer would release the rope and Maggie would fall to her death.

“Throw the gun over the railing,” Ackerman said.

He hesitated as he searched for an alternative.

Ackerman let slack into the rope, and Maggie fell another few feet before the killer halted her descent.

“Wait!” With no other options, he tossed his gun into the night.

Ackerman nodded. “See you soon.”

With those words, the killer released the rope and leapt from the top of the fire escape to the building’s roof.

Maggie plummeted head first toward certain death.

He dove forward. The killer forgotten, saving Maggie was his only thought. He grabbed the end of the rope just as it slid over the railing’s edge.

The sudden weight wrenched on his shoulders, and fibers from the rope dug into his skin as it slid between his palms.

But he held tight.

Maggie swung like a pendulum below.

Hand over hand, he arduously pulled her toward him until she was safely back on the platform.

He held her tighter than he had ever felt the need to hold anyone before. She returned his embrace. They melted into each other.

He considered pursuing Ackerman, but he knew that the killer was long gone. As he held Maggie, the rest of the world and the events of the past few days faded away. In that moment, they were the only two people on Earth.

But a part of him knew that Maggie hadn’t forgotten the revelation into his past that Ackerman had forced into the light.
Because I murdered someone.

He also knew that, even though they had survived this battle, the war was far from over.

“If you think like my father? What is that supposed to mean?” Andrew said.

Marcus shook his head.
Finish what you begin…Some unfinished business? Something from his childhood?
His mind was overloaded. He couldn’t concentrate. He needed to clear his thoughts. “I don’t know yet, but I’m gonna figure it out. And let’s not forget that we have more than Ackerman to worry about. We need a place to think this thing through. Figure out our next move.”

Andrew nodded in agreement. “I know a place. Hotel in the next town to the east. I know the owner real well. We can trust him. We can hide there, rest for a couple of hours, get patched up, and come at it again with fresh minds.”

The idea seemed to be a consensus.

They decided Andrew’s Escalade was too conspicuous, so they took Alexai’s car and left Asherton behind. When they arrived at the hotel, Andrew went in and spoke with his friend. He returned in a few moments with three room keys and a first aid kit. “We’ll meet up in four hours and figure out where we go next.”

Andrew entered his room and shut the door behind him.

Marcus put the key in his door, but Maggie halted him when she said, “Marcus, why don’t you come to my room.”

He looked deep into her eyes. He knew exactly what she wanted. She had questions that had to be answered before her mind could rest.

He stepped into her room and sat down on the bed. She locked the door behind them. She hesitated a moment, as if what she was going to ask would change everything between them. Her teeth found her lower lip. She seemed to contemplate whether they could possibly move forward without the words being spoken.

They couldn’t.

He knew that as much as she did.

The fact that she had asked him to her room alone to discuss the matter showed him that—even after hearing and seeing what he was capable of—she wasn’t afraid of him. Maybe they could still find a way to be together? He prayed that they could. He prayed she would understand.

After a long silence, she looked deep into his eyes, as if to let him know that a smartass comment wasn’t going to deflect the question. “Why aren’t you a cop anymore?”

Marcus had hoped to never speak of that night again. He had hoped to begin anew with a clean slate. But he supposed that no matter how far he ran, he would never truly escape his past.

“I wasn’t just a cop. I was a detective. Homicide. One of the youngest on the force. I was doing well for myself, making a name and all. A real up and comer. Cracked a few big cases. Got my name in the papers. Working hard enough to get noticed and earn some respect. But that all changed when I stumbled into this one case.”

He told her about the pattern that he had seen emerging. How he had formulated a theory about the killings, and how no one else in the department would listen to him. He told her how he came to be on that street on that night.

“What happened there?”

“According to the pattern, it was the area where this possible serial killer would strike next. I wasn’t completely sure of that, but I didn’t have any other leads and couldn’t stop thinking about the case. So, I just went on patrol. It seemed to be as good of an idea as any.” He hesitated. “That’s actually not true. It was more than just a hunch. Somehow, I knew that was where he would strike. I just…felt it.”

He rubbed the cross that hung on a chain around his neck. “I was walking down that street when I heard a scream that I’ll never forget…”

~~*~~

Marcus glanced up and down the deserted street. The emptiness echoed what he felt inside. He wondered how he could live in a city of over eight million people and still feel so alone. But when he delved deeper, he knew that it wasn’t loneliness. It was more than that. He felt hollow, and the only time that he felt whole was when he cracked a case.

The shrinks would have a field day with that one.

He sipped his coffee and continued down the dark street. His eyes attempted to penetrate the shadows. “You’re here somewhere. Aren’t you?” he said under his breath.

Then, he heard the scream.

The sound defied reason. He had never heard such suffering, such anguish. It resonated in his soul.

The scream brought to memory the faces of the dead. He thought back on the victims of homicides he had investigated. But he had never been there at the time of death. Unlike the cops of books and television, his job didn’t consist of gunfights and car chases. He had only drawn his gun a handful of times, and he had never had to use it. But if the moment came, he knew that he could wield the weapon with deadly and frightening precision.

The coffee cup fell from his hand, the liquid splashing across the pavement. He pulled the Sig Sauer P226 from his holster and sprinted down a nearby alleyway, following the scream to its origin.

The alley ended in a secluded parking lot. A dilapidated building sat on one side. Boards covered the windows, and graffiti covered most of the walls. The faded letters of a beat-up and spray-painted sign read,
The Blue Oyster Bar.

As he scanned the area, he took in all the details. The most shocking of which was the white, stretch limousine in the center of the parking lot. In that neighborhood, he would have been less surprised to see a flying saucer.

From the opposite side of the limo, he heard a man’s voice. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re not finished yet.”

A woman’s voice said, “No! Please!”

He sprinted around the limo. A chain link fence cordoned off the back of the parking lot, and the woman had her back pressed hard to the metal of the barrier. She was naked with numerous cuts running along her body.

He recognized the wounds. The killer liked to cut his victims while he raped them.

The man stood naked from the waste down a few feet from the woman, a bloody scalpel in his left hand.

A righteous rage overtook Marcus. A veil of red fell over his eyes. He didn’t tell the man not to move. He didn’t proceed like he had been taught at the academy. Instead, he rushed forward, kicked the scalpel from the killer’s hand, and slammed the pistol into the back of the assailant’s head.

Dazed, the killer stumbled forward. Before the man could react in any way, Marcus slammed him against the fence and twisted his right arm behind his back. With a flash of movement, the first cuff fell over the killer’s wrist. He twisted the man’s other arm back and did the same.

The killer said, “What the hell are you doing? Who do you think you are?”

He stepped away and trained his pistol on the back of the man’s head. He then turned his eyes to the woman. “Are you okay?” he said and then chastised himself. Stupid question. “I mean, can you walk?”

Her voice cracked as she sobbed out the words. “Yes. Thank you. Thank God you were here.”

“Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re safe now. Get your clothes on and find a place to sit down. We’ll get an ambulance. You’re gonna be fine.”

“You’re gonna pay for this. Do you have any idea who I am?

”He turned his attention back to the killer. His heart pounded like a freight train inside his chest. Things were getting complicated.

The murderer didn’t think that he had been recognized, but he had. His name was John Mavros—Senator John Mavros.

Marcus fully realized that he had just slapped the cuffs on a powerful senator from an even more powerful family. The Mavros name conjured allusions to the Kennedy and Rockefeller dynasties.

What have I gotten myself into this time?

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“I’m a senator. Call your chief or the Commissioner. Better yet, let’s call the Mayor. I’ll give you the number.”

“You have the right to an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

“You’re gonna burn for this. You think that you’re the big hero now, but when I’m done with you, you’re gonna be homeless, jobless, and penniless.”

“Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you? Having these rights in mind, do you wish to talk to me now?”

“Or even better, maybe we’ll pin the murders on you, and you can rot in a jail cell for the rest of your miserable little life.” Mavros slowly turned to face him.

“Don’t you move,” Marcus said. His finger twitched against the trigger.

“Listen, kid, you’re in way over your pay grade here. I won’t see the inside of a jail cell. I can guarantee you that. Call your chief. 555-2368. Save us all a lot of time and trouble.”

The thoughts flew through his mind at gale force speeds. He started second-guessing himself. He questioned every action.
Will slamming Mavros against the fence or twisting his arm be considered brutality?
He thought about horror stories where a person pulled someone out of their car just before it exploded and got sued because the rescued person fractured his or her collarbone in the process.

No good deed goes unpunished.

“Fine. Let’s call the chief.” He removed the cell phone from his pocket and dialed the number that Mavros had provided. The Chief of Police answered. Mavros had known the number by heart. He told the chief who he was and informed him of the situation.

After a moment of silence, the chief said, “So you haven’t called this in yet?”

“No, sir…not yet.”

“That’s excellent. We’ve really dodged a bullet here. You did the right thing by calling me. You stay put. I’m gonna come down there and straighten this out. You can keep your gun on him, if you want, but take the cuffs off. And be gentle.”

“Be gentle? Sir, what are you saying? I don’t care who this guy is. I only care about what he is. He’s a serial rapist and murderer.”

“I know damn well what he is…me and a lot of other people. And you’re gonna do exactly what all of us have done. If you don’t, it’s your funeral. Do you understand what I’m saying? You’re gonna take the money and look the other way. All the women he’s killed were prostitutes. You gonna throw your life away over some whore? If you pursue this, he’ll walk away squeaky clean, and you’ll wind up either disgraced or dead. Be smart, kid. It’s all in how you look at it. This is a good thing for you. You just hit the lottery. You and me both.”

“I don’t want his money.”

“Then don’t take the money, but don’t throw your life away either. He’s above the law. If you—”

He closed the phone and killed the connection. He looked toward the limo. The victim sat on the ground next to one of the tires. With her legs curled to her chest, she rocked back and forth while whimpering like a frightened animal. Their eyes met. The look of terror was still present. Her eyes pleaded with him, begged him to make the world safe again. Visions of dead bodies and the eyes of other victims flooded his consciousness.