"My client pleads not guilty by reason of insanity, your honor."
The judge continued to read down the laundry list of charges against Bishop.
Carl was a burning cauldron of seething rage, his lips started to quiver as raw hate boiled to the surface.
But outside, a situation was brewing.
There was a murmur building, growing stronger and louder by the second.
As if perhaps someone important had arrived, a celebrity maybe?
Curiosity built to a fever pitch, until everyone was standing to get a better look at what was going on.
It got so out of control that the judge had to bang his gavel.
"Bailiff?
What's going on out there?"
One of the large courtroom doors slowly opened, reporters and bystanders nearly fell over each other following an officer, who signaled for someone inside the courtroom to get Carl's attention.
Carl slowly stood, as people pressed him to move forward.
Others got out of his way so he could exit the row of seats to follow the officer who had an odd grin on his face.
The whole slew of onlookers that had filtered in bristled like they had a secret they were bursting to tell.
People flooded in behind Carl with anticipation.
Carl was led into the main hallway as the curious crowded around.
Cameras and microphones fought to get close.
"Please, what is going on?" Carl asked, his legs growing unsteady.
"There's a call for you, Mr. Rosa," the officer said, handing him a cell phone.
Carl slowly brought it up to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Rosa, this is Officer Jennifer Brown, I'm calling to inform you that your daughter, Angelina, was found alive.
She's being rushed to Liberty Medical Center as we speak."
Carl felt his heart stop and start.
"Is this some kind of joke?"
"No sir, Detective Jack Ridge asked me to call you personally and relay the news.
I'm sending a car that will escort you to the hospital."
Carl's head grew heavy, he collapsed to his knees.
It was the same reaction he'd had when he'd been told his daughter was dead.
This time it was joy, not pain, that overwhelmed him.
He shook with rapture and elation.
"Oh my God, Oh thank God…"
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause.
The entire courtroom was now in chaos, everyone wanted to get close to Carl to congratulate him, share in his happiness.
Carl clasped his hands in thankful prayer.
"Thank you, Jack… Bless you."
CHAPTER 71
Jack's car screamed into Laura's front yard.
He opened the door and nearly fell out, scrambling towards the house, his adrenaline pumping furiously.
He spotted Ketcher's tan car parked in the street, it matched the description given.
Jack drew his gun and checked the chamber,
creeping up to a window. He peered inside to the den, the room empty.
He stayed low and made his way to the side door.
He crouched with his back against the wall, clutching his gun with both hands prayer-like, panting for breath.
The screen door had been knocked from its hinges, just hanging by a thread.
He placed his hand on the peeling paint of the old wooden inside door.
Pressing gently, it opened with a creak. He entered, gun ready.
He checked behind the door and moved through the living room, past Rebecca's artwork still laid out on the table.
He stepped over the broken bowl of melted ice cream and entered the kitchen. It was tossed — broken glass, chairs and table upended.
There was blood on the floor, the phone ripped from the wall, smashed into pieces.
His expression grew desperate, intense.
He glanced at a picture of Laura and Rebecca up on the refrigerator, afraid his victory would be counterbalanced by failure and misery.
Once again, his job had taken precedence over protecting those he loved.
Yes, he loved them.
And for a moment he regretted ever taking that file from Leonard, involving Laura and Rebecca in his investigation.
He'd led the killer right to their door.
Angelina was saved, thanks to Rebecca.
There was zero doubt about that now.
But at what price?
What sacrifice?
Jack felt the oppressive force of evil working its malevolence on his small section of the universe.
What horror lied in wait?
Please, not them
,
please don't save one and sacrifice the other.
The thoughts caused Jack to stagger, he had to brace himself along the wall.
He made a fist and threw a shadow punch at it in slow motion, wanting so much to hit it hard — holding back, grinding his teeth in bitterness.
He made a promise to himself, right then and there, that before he shuffled off this confusing mortal coil, he'd spend the remainder of his days making peace with Robert.
He would leave the past behind, empty himself of all the anger and pain, like a wounded airplane dumps fuel when it knows it's going down.
He inhaled after a long silence, his lungs wheezed.
Then he heard a soft moan, a woman's voice.
His entire being perked up.
Laura?
He stepped silently around the corner, the kitchen emptied into a laundry area.
He found Laura on her side, her limbs still bound tightly.
Jack knelt down and peeled the blood soaked hair from her eyes, making sure she saw him, his look warning her to stay quiet and remain calm.
Her eyes opened wide upon recognizing him.
He made a shush gesture with his finger, waiting until she nodded in understanding.
She did, and he removed the gag.
"Where?" Jack whispered.
"Upstairs."
Jack nodded.
He felt around the wire bindings that held her wrists together.
He found the notch that looped around but couldn't get it to twist loose.
He motioned to Laura that he was going to lean her forward.
She complied, and he went to work, prying her bindings apart with the adrenaline of three men, nearly cutting through his own fingers in the process.
Laura wriggled and pulled her hands free.
"Can you move?"
Laura said nothing — she shot to her feet, pushing past him, pure maternal instinct.
Jack chased her down and gripped her mid torso just as she reached the bottom of the staircase.
He held her firmly in place.
He looked into her eyes again, focusing her.
"Let me."
"He's going to kill her-"
"I won't let that happen.
Is he armed?"
"My kitchen knife."
Laura's eyes crossed, the pain in her head making her woozy.
Jack touched her cheek.
"Okay, I need you to stay here.
Police are on their way right now, just get safe, let me handle this."
Laura again tried to claw her way past him, but he held her back.
"Laura, please.
Do as I say."
Laura stopped fighting him.
Jack held her a second longer.
You're alive
!
He wanted to kiss her right there.
Never again would he bottle up every emotion.
He was going to let it all out from now on, consequences be damned.
He was going to live.
Just before he could kiss her, she kissed him, right on the lips, no pretense.
It was quick, it was emotional, and it empowered him with courage and strength.
He felt invincible.
He didn't have to say the words.
She knew.
Jack headed up the staircase, gun barrel pointed up in the air.
He didn't want to be startled and shoot out of reflex and risk hitting Rebecca.
He reached the top and craned his neck to peer around the corner, checking the upstairs hallway.
Empty.
His adrenaline-fueled, nervous mind observed every detail of the hallway.
The red thick-threaded carpet, the light fixture in the ceiling, the alignment of the three doors, the window at the end, the rain outside still hammering away relentlessly, the musty aroma of old wood, the pronounced smell of Rebecca's paint supplies — every one of his senses on high alert.
He took a few steps before he heard the sweetest sound in the world.
Rebecca's whimpering
.
She's alive.
He maneuvered himself next to Rebecca's door, which was open just a sliver.
He was able to peer inside, but couldn't determine their whereabouts.
He listened, careful to silence his own breathing.
Michael was speaking, but Jack couldn't make out what he was saying.
He prepared himself, took a breath, and opened the door.
Michael sat on the bed, Rebecca on his lap, as if reading her a bedtime story.
Jack looked closely and spotted the blade just below Rebecca's chin, resting on her pulsing artery.
One false move and he could slit her throat faster than Jack could even pull the trigger.
Rebecca seemed dazed, she looked up at Jack as if paralyzed, her face red.
He noticed smears of blood on her cheek and around her mouth, which seemed swollen.
He'd struck her!
Michael's eyes found Jack in the doorway.
He grinned.
Jack took him in head to toe.
He was a good looking man.
Of course he is.
How easily he could have lured these young girls to their doom unwittingly
.
Only by slicing open his handsome head and examining his brain could you have spotted the defects in workmanship.
A perfect front.
"You're right," Michael said, "there he is.
How did you know he'd come?
You're just full of surprises."
"Let her go," Jack's voice was calm, controlled.
Michael responded by tightening the blade under her chin threateningly.
"I don't like guns."
Michael pressed the blade even more, drawing a small amount of blood.
He pumped his eyebrows, impatiently eyeing Jack's gun. "Now."
"Don't be afraid, Rebecca," Jack said with certainty.
He complied and tossed his gun across the floor.
Rebecca stared back, immobile, helpless.
Michael leaned around to get a look at Rebecca's face.
"We're old friends, Rebecca and I, she told me."
Michael stood up as he spoke, keeping Rebecca in front of him.
"Isn't that right, Rebecca?
Or whoever you think you are…"
Michael circled the blade by his ear, implying to Jack that
she must be crazy.
He lodged the blade back under her chin and tightened his grip on her hair.
"Don't do this," Jack pleaded.
"Why not?
You already caught the killer."
He was holding the sharp edge of the knife very tight, Rebecca had to go up onto her toes to relieve some of the pressure of the blade.
"Jack…" Rebecca said in a sad whisper, as if it was already too late, resigned to her fate.
Jack stared into her teary eyes, keeping her focused on him.
"Rebecca, look at me, keep your eyes on me."
Rebecca began to squirm, making it hard for Michael to keep his grip.
"Don't," Michael warned.
"Let her go, Michael."
"She said you'd come.
You knew I'd be here today.
This was inevitable."
Jack knew Michael's next move was to slit her throat, then shoot him dead.
He had to think fast.
He spotted Laura in his peripheral vision at the top of the stairs.
"Stay there Laura!" Jack shouted.
Jack took a step into the room towards Michael.
"Back!" Michael shouted.
Jack held up his empty hands.
"It's over, just let the girl go."
Michael's face became an odd rotation of emotions, disturbing and twisted.
"…Carmen, she was my best student.
So brilliant.
So shy.
She never screamed once, the whole time I had her."
Michael looked down admiringly at Rebecca.
"All she would do is pray.
And when I hurt her, she would just pray louder.
What a prize."
As Michael got caught up in his own monologue, Jack plotted, studying him for a weakness, waiting for a lapse in defense so he could strike.