After the Evil – A Jake Roberts Novel (Book 1) (17 page)

“What the fuck?”

He tugged at the bindings that secured his wrists
and ankles. Some of what Fairchild called the devils music was
playing in the background. He could barely make out any of it. The
song ended and instantly went into repeat. The music irritated Ed,
but it was what the guy said that held his attention. It was clear
the lawman was no longer in charge. Ed watched the guy read from
the identification card inside his wallet, while sitting on the bed
next to him.

“Edward Fairchild, Chief Inspector, Homicide.”

In days past, Ed had seen some scary sights. He
lived through Vietnam and saw the vicious horrors of war. He had
been in more than his share of fire fights on the job. He
investigated senseless, violent and gruesome murder scenes over the
years, but the fear and revulsion he was experiencing now far
surpassed all the others. His assailant used isolation and control,
the same tactics that Ed used against suspects during
interrogations. On the wrong side of it now, Ed was vulnerable. He
needed to stay calm and think. While he struggled to find a way
out, he believed it was going to be his last day on earth. He would
never again see his wife of all those years, the children he
raised, or his grandchildren. He wet the bed. Embarrassed he closed
his eyes.

“Ed.”

The perp shook his head and scolded.

“Look what you’ve done. Don’t worry, I won’t tell
anyone, but you should be ashamed of yourself.”

He contemplated while he looked at Ed.

“Actually the blood will mix with it, and your
secret will be ours forever.”

The man was visible now. Ed’s eyes and head had
cleared. His dignity damaged beyond repair, he tried desperately to
exhibit strength. He used the nickname given the man after the
chase.

“Are you the ‘runner’?”

“Runner? I don’t...oh wait––I get it. That’s what
you call me, from the other day. Oh, I like that––the
Runner.
The look of satisfaction on his face was more than
telling. He was enjoying the attention. While the perp mulled over
his infamous nickname, Ed took the opportunity to try to establish
some kind of rapport with his captor.

“Do you have a name?”

“I do have another name, and you know what? I’m
going to give it to you, Chief Inspector Fairchild. It’s Michael,
like the archangel, and Gates, like the rich guy.”

He got up and circled around to the foot of the bed
while he spoke. Fairchild’s hunter eyes followed his every move. If
there was any possible chance to get out of this Fairchild was
ready to take it.

“In fact, because I’m going to kill you Chief
Inspector, I owe it to you to tell you all about me.”

Gates stopped and thought for a moment.

“I watched Thaddeus Abrams die.”

Fairchild’s eyes grew wide.

“From a closet, I watched Abrams get whacked, and I
mean
whacked
. She cut off his dick after she stabbed him to
death.”

Gates grimaced pretending to be sickened and
produced a fake shudder to highlight his supposed revulsion.

“That
crazy
woman was ruthless. In the
beginning, I was frightened, but then I got hard, you
know––
hard
, Can you believe that? It was amazing.”

The excitement in Gates’ voice sent a cold spike up
Fairchild’s back. The perp appeared to be otherworldly. There was
nothing in the training manuals on how to deal with this kind of
psychopath. Fairchild listened, studied him, and prayed silently.
As if some calming force had just fallen over him, Gates’ demented
demeanor shifted. His tone dropped to an almost apologetic
whisper.

“I should probably back up a little. I was a patient
of Dr. Abrams. We were lovers.”

Fairchild’s wrists began to bleed as the bindings
cut into them, but he welcomed the pain as a sign he was still
alive.

There is always a chance.

“You were lovers?”

“Yes Ed, lovers. Thad hated his old lady. Anna
controlled the money. She dangled it over his head and made him
dance like a marionette for it, so he wanted her dead. He knew that
I had previous experience in that area when I came to him for
counseling.”

“He was bound by law to tell us. Why didn’t? He
worked closely with the department––”

“Ed, stop, please.”

Gates pressed his cold index finger against Ed’s
lips.

“Don’t try to figure it out. Thad was a very
complicated man. He wasn’t the man you thought he was, end of
conversation.”

The fact that Gates had touched him was sickening
enough, and Fairchild wanted to throw up. Gates’ finger traced Ed’s
face to his forehead. He began stroking Ed’s white hair. Fairchild
tried to turn away causing Gates to stop.

“What’s wrong Ed, afraid of the other side? Don’t be
so upset, I don’t want you in that way.”

Ed’s lips pressed tight together. All he needed was
a weapon, and Gates’ miserable life would be over.

“I don’t like that look in your eyes, Chief
Inspector. Here I am spilling my heart and soul out to you and all
you want to do is kill me.”

Gates stood up and began pacing. He would stop,
think, start pacing again, stop and glance at Ed again. He became
agitated, and appeared to be debating what to do next.

“Michael listen to me, this can stop right here,
right now. I will do everything in my power to get help for
you.”

Gates’ outburst came like a verbal tsunami.

“I’M NOT FINISHED TELLING THE STORY, ED! Let me
finish the story.”

Gates held his tirade for a beat then shook off his
anger during a brief private conversation he had within his
mind.

“He wanted his wife dead, you see. I offered, but
Thad said no way, that he wanted to keep me out of it. We talked
about it every time we were together. Then
she
entered the
picture, and Thad got a major heterosexual hard on, and guess who
got pushed aside.”

Gates became more agitated. Turning toward
Fairchild, he stiffened his body language. He sat back down next to
him.

“About the time he realized that she was a bad girl
well, I think that’s when he lost interest in her...at least
sexually. That’s when he came up with the idea to get her to kill
his old lady. He said that he loved me, and after the wife was
gone, the money was his, we would go away together.”

A detective to the very end, Fairchild needed
another piece of the puzzle.

“Who is
she
?”

“Lori Powers. Thad invited her over to his house
that night for what he referred to as additional, required therapy.
It was nothing more than a scam. He pretended to be concerned for
her, and she fell for it. After she arrived, he spewed the plan
about whacking his old lady.”

Gates shrugged it off like it happened every
day.

“She was stunned he knew she was a murderer, but she
stayed pretty mellow, cool. She played him like I had never seen
before. I was in awe as I watched. I was supposed to stop her if
she got out of control, but as I said, it was such a rush.”

The blade glistened from the light in the room.
Gates stroked it with a white cloth alternating between wiping it
clean, and buffing it. Fairchild squirmed and tugged at the ropes,
while Gates started pacing again. He watched Ed struggle and read
his eyes.

“Don’t fight it Ed, it’s like being in space. No one
can hear you scream.”

Stalling for time and advantage, Ed queried his
captor.

“So why this? Why me? What do you gain by killing
me?”

Gates froze in mid-step and nonchalantly looked at
his victim.

“That’s a very good question, Ed.”

He pointed the knife directly at Fairchild and made
a motion as if cutting from ear to ear. He smirked.

“You see Ed, oh I’m sorry I never asked you if I can
call you Ed. May I call you Ed, Ed? Oh never mind it’s not going to
matter in a minute, or so.”

Fairchild tried to pull hard enough to rip his hands
from his wrists so he could slip out of the tie wraps. He would
kill Michael Gates with the stumps that remained. His pulse rate
spiked.

“The reason you are going to be sacrificed, if you
will, is because of my enormous respect for Lori. As I said, I’m in
awe of her. She’s the
Mistress of Murder
, so beautiful, and
so flawless.”

His hopes of escaping faded as he listened to Gates’
continued ranting. Having burned up every once of energy he had
left while struggling to get free, Ed lay back on the bed breathing
heavily.

“I watched her, Ed. I knew I had to emulate her. Is
that the right word? I knew I needed to, if I was ever going to
take her place. So I’m going to do to you what she did to all of
her victims, only I’m going to get caught, then I’m going to
confess to all of her murderous sins.”

“Why?”

“Why what, Chief?”

“Why get caught, what does that do for you?”

“Fame Inspector, it gives me a special place in
criminal history.”

Gates took a seat at the foot of the bed.

“I lost the one I loved, she killed him. I have
nowhere to go, no one to love, and nothing left. I am nothing. The
only way I can punish her for what she took from me, is to take
away her glory and fame. I’m going to steal her thunder.”

Ed knew it was over and became sullen.

“But, because I understand her, and because I
understand the act and crave it like she does, I must defer to the
high priestess so she can continue.”

“But if you are caught, and she kills again, doesn’t
that take away your fame?”

Gates stood up and walked around the bed to
Fairchild’s side. He started to stroke Fairchild’s hair again
making him squirm.

“Once I confess, she will have to go underground.
Oh, she will kill again and the cycle will start all over, but no
one will connect her to any of the previous murders.”

Fairchild objected, but Gates interrupted.

“And now, and this is going to make you very sad.
I’m afraid, it’s time, Ed.”

Michael ignored Ed’s pleas.

“No, no, wait, I’ve got children, and grandchildren.
I have a wife who loves me.”

“If you scream, I’ll only like it more, Ed.”

A demonic look appeared on Gates’ face. He raised
the hand with the knife high over his head then brought it down
hard and fast. Fairchild thrashed with everything he had left. His
eyes squeezed tight, and his flush face crunched. His scream was
deafening, but he didn’t feel the penetration, or the pain. A
shuddering, shaking Fairchild opened his eyes to see a telephone in
his face. Gates’ other hand held the knife an inch above his
heart.

“Ed, now that you know how serious I am about this,
I’ve got something for you to do.”

He waited for Fairchild’s deep breathing to slow,
and wiped his forehead with the white polishing cloth.

“Here, drink some water.”

Gates held out a plastic bottle of water for
Fairchild to drink from. At first Fairchild pulled away, but
thinking it might buy some time, he leaned forward to drink. The
parched feeling in his mouth and throat dissipated. His breathing
was shallower, but still pronounced. He watched his assailant and
his executioner closely.

“I’m going to call your office. I want you to tell
them where you are, and what is going to happen to you. I want you
to tell them who I am. Tell them
I
am the killer. Can you do
that?”

Ed nodded and trembled, while Gates dialed the
telephone. After the second ring, Fairchild’s secretary
answered.

“Chief Inspector Fairchild’s office, Wendy speaking,
can I help you?”

“I need to speak directly to someone in authority
regarding Ed Fairchild’s murder.”

“Excuse me, could you repeat that, sir?”

“Yes, I’m about to murder your boss, Ed Fairchild,
and I would like to talk to someone in charge before I do. I’ll
hold, but not for very long.”

Gates heard Wendy cover the receiver and mumble
directions. He fully expected the phone line to be traced, but he
didn’t care. He smiled mockingly at Fairchild as any one would when
they were put on hold.

* * *

Wendy frantically asked if the caller was still on
the line. The answer came slowly, as if it was taking every bit of
his patience.

“I’m here.”

“Sir, Detective Blackwell will be taking your call.
He’s on his way to the telephone now.”

Wendy was frightened and shaking so severely she
didn’t know if the words that she said came out correctly.

“Thank you.”

Michael Gates waited and watched Ed struggling
against the bindings. Harmon was gruff and not at all amused when
he picked up the phone.

“This is Detective Blackwell.”

“Harmon, Harmon Blackwell? Just can’t run like you
used to, huh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“SIR, SIR? This is
Runner
. According to Ed
here, that’s what you call me.”

Harmon was staggered, but recovered and dropped into
his professional mode.

“Can you prove you’re the
Runner
?”

“Hum, well let’s see how many people know that
nickname, or better yet, how many runners does it take to assault a
pastor, or how slow is a big, dumb homicide dick? I could go on,
but what’s the point? Listen, he may ramble a bit if you get my
meaning. Listen closely, Harmon, because the next sounds you hear
will be Ed’s last.”

Gates smirked while holding the receiver next to
Ed.

Harmon’s hands waved in every direction for quiet.
He shared the phone with Jake. They waited. A weak and exhausted
voice came on the line.

“Harmon?”

“Ed?”

“It’s true Harmon, the runner has got me.”

“Ed, what the––”

“Harmon, LISTEN TO ME.”

Ed stared hard into Gates’ face.

“The corner of Twenty-third and Delaney, brown
warehouse, I don’t know any more than that.”

“You hold on Ed, we’re on our way.”