Read Sin City Assassin (The Bill Dix Detective Series Book 3) Online
Authors: C.L. Swinney
Sin City Assassin (The Bill Dix Detective Series Book 3) (28 page)
Pierre smiled at him and began sawing right next to the wedding band on Dix’s finger while laughing uncontrollably.
“Aaghhh!” Dix screamed and tried to roll and contort his body in an effort to free his finger. The pain shot up his arm, through his shoulder. He’d never felt such pain, and he’d been shot before. His will to survive forced him not to give up so he shook harder. He finally accepted that he was at a minimum going to lose his finger, but he was not willing to give up completely.
His yelling fueled Pierre and Dix felt his grip on his wrist tighten as the pain increased. He watched as Pierre’s arm frantically slid back and forth, and got sick again as the nerves and bone were being mutilated. Then the room echoed from a loud boom, followed by several more, and Dix felt the pressure on his wrist immediately go away.
He lifted his sweat soaked head to see Pierre standing over him with the saw in his hands and a blank look on his face. Blood dripped from his mouth and Dix could see bullet holes in his chest. Each second felt like an hour and Dix’s heart fluttered as he thought he might actually survive. He couldn’t hear anything due to the loud explosions, but he could see Pierre’s mouth moving as he tried to say something.
With a second burst of energy, Pierre brought the saw blade up over his head and tried to bring it down on Dix’s neck. He never made it. His body convulsed and thrashed as bullets riddled him until he slumped over, bouncing off the cot, finally coming to rest on the floor out of Dix’s sight. He felt the restraints get tighter on his arms and legs and he used what little energy he had left to try to fight it until he looked up and saw Petersen, Frazier, Sullivan, and several local cops. They frantically worked to free him and stabilize his left hand. He sobbed and couldn’t believe what had happened. Whether it was fatigue, the lingering effects of GHB, or his body saying it was time, Dix lost consciousness still not knowing how they found him and whether he would live.
Chapter 50:
Petersen paced back and forth in the hospital waiting room. Dix’s wife’s thoughts rambled in her head and for the first time she could really remember, she completely broke down and cried in the corner of the room while Petersen’s wife tried to console her. The initial report for Dix stated he’d had a few teeth ripped out of his mouth and his finger likely needed to be amputated. The crowded waiting room bustled as his whole narco team from Florida had arrived, as did most who knew him who lived nearby. Petersen was teary eyed and kept shaking his head in disbelief.
A man walked into the room. He walked with a slight limp and appeared clean cut. Petersen instantly grinned as he recognized Snead. He gave him the update and they embraced. Then they both patiently waited to hear from the doctor.
Several hours later, a tall man in a white coat came to the room. He was surprised to see so many people in his little waiting room. He cleared his throat. The room grew completely silent. “I’m looking for Mrs. Dix. I’d like to share your husband’s status with you.”
Dix’s wife looked around the room. The people she saw were just as much of his family as she was and she wasn’t about to keep them hanging any longer. “It’s okay, you can share it with all of us.”
“Very well. He’s gonna need some dental work, but I think that’s the least of his concerns,” he replied. The room was as quiet as a library and people sat on the edge of their seats waiting to hear more.
The doctor continued, “I was not able to save his finger.”
Dix’s wife began to sob uncontrollably and individuals shared stunned glances and looks of dismay.
“However, I was able to make a clean amputation and leave the last digit, so with a little rehab he’ll be able to partially grab a firearm, that’s
if
he ever wants to again.”
Some people seemed happy with the update, but Petersen picked up on the doctor’s emphasis on the word
if
. “What do you mean,
if
? It’s Bill Dix, for Christ’s sake. He’ll want to carry a gun again.” He looked around the room. “Right?”
The doctor shook his head. “The medical injuries he sustained, although terrible, are not life threatening; however, the mental anguish is immeasurable. He’s not responding to medications, and he’s staring blankly out the window.”
Around the room, jaws dropped and small discussions broke out.
“And, he doesn’t want any visitors,” the doctor concluded.
Petersen was speechless. He looked at his wife and Dix’s wife. They too were shaking their heads and crying. It sounded like Dix would be physically fine, but he had given up emotionally.
Very quietly and slowly, Dix’s wife stood up and the room became silent again.
“Listen up. He’s no quitter, and I’m gonna need all of your help to get him back.” She walked over to Petersen, hugged him, then continued, “I’ll go see him and report back to you guys.” She turned to leave the room and the doctor raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry, but he said no visitors,” said the doctor sternly.
She smiled. “Try to stop me.” She motioned to the people in the waiting room. “And I’m pretty sure they’ll have something to say about it.”
Dix had given up. He was in another damn hospital bed and he’d had it. He stared out the window and wondered about what he’d do next. He knew about his teeth and finger, and it didn’t even bother him. The fact was he’d survived. He’d been in hospital beds several times before, the smells and feelings were always the same. But, he just couldn’t wrap his mind around being drugged by some sick serial killer, the grandson of a notorious killer. He wondered if Pierre had a child. This single thought made him want to retire, run away, and never look back. Twenty years he’d been working the endless war on killers and drug pushers. And look at him now, barely able to use his hand and lucky to be alive.
He heard the door to his room open and shut and assumed it was medical staff since he demanded no one come see him.
I don’t want anyone to see me like this. If they see my finger, it’s gonna hurt them more, not to mention me.
“Babe, there’s no way this is the end.”
He instantly recognized his wife’s voice and rolled over to see her there. She’d obviously been crying and he felt like all the other crap he’d just been feeling sorry for was nothing compared to seeing her hurt. She walked over and embraced him. All at once, every emotion in his body, every image from every case, the dead bodies, the time away from his family, and all the rest of it poured out as he cried hard in her arms.
“The son of a bitch took my finger,” he finally said in anger and disgust. His face turned red and his heart rate accelerated as he resisted an urge to punch the wall.
She nodded. “Yes, but he could never take your spirit. There’s plenty more like him out there, Bill, and you’re one of the few people wearing a badge who can find them and take them out.” She slowly rubbed his back and gently kissed his forehead.
“I’m too old, babe, this is a young man’s game. He drugged me and tortured me for God’s sake!” He felt the area where his finger had been severed throb. For a brief moment it felt like the whole finger was there, causing him to look quickly at his hand, but when he looked down, it clearly was not.
She rubbed his back and held him. “I didn’t marry a quitter,” she pointed to the door, “and that whole room full of people won’t let you quit either.”
He loved his wife and knew she was right. A small flicker of justice ignited in his heart.
They’re right
, he thought,
I’m not a quitter, and if I survived this, I can push forward. But if I retired, we could live out the rest of our lives
without all the stress and danger at work.
He bounced the idea of retiring back and forth in his mind. “I guess the boys at the shooting range can work on getting my grip adjusted so I can qualify again.”
Dix’s wife smiled and cried some more while giving him a great big hug. They kissed and embraced for quite some time. Finally she pulled away from him with an amused look in her eyes.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Well, at least you have one less fingernail to gnaw on!” she said playfully.
He pulled her close and whispered, “I love you, silly girl.”
She smiled. “I love you, too.” They embraced and cuddled like the old days, before he wore a badge. She motioned to the door as if to ask if she could send the visitors in.
He smiled and nodded. “Let’s see if anyone tops your comment about my finger.” They laughed like teenagers. And things, at least for a brief moment, felt like they could get back to normal, whatever that was.
THE END
About the Author
Chris Swinney (C. L. Swinney), @clswinney, writes crime fiction based on what he experiences as a homicide and narcotics investigator in the San Francisco Bay Area. As an avid reader, he developed a passion for the written word and took to writing novels, short stories, and poetry.
His work has been featured in Fly Fisherman Magazine, PointsBeyond.com, Alaskan Peninsula Newspaper, and California Game & Fish Magazine. He's now a contributor to PoliceOne.com, the nation's premier law enforcement online magazine.
His debut novel,
Gray Ghost
, and second novel,
The Cartel Enforcers
, made the best seller's list on Amazon. The novel is important to Chris because it features his mentor, Koti Fakava, who passed away leaving behind his lovely wife and five wonderful children. Proceeds from the sales of his novels go directly to Koti's family. He also donates proceeds from his sales to groups like Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF), Cancer research, and PTSD/ Military support groups.
He spends time volunteering for his church, at schools, he coaches, and every once in awhile, he fly fishes.
Table of Contents