ZERO HERO (The Kate Huntington Mystery series) (38 page)

            “Who said anything about rape? I don’t need to force women. Like I said, if you let me, then...” He shrugged and looked back at the road.

            She felt the click in her brain. This wasn’t about not leaving witnesses behind. It was about power. She had bested him, broken his arm. Now he wanted her submissive to prove he was in control.

            She waited until he looked in the mirror again, then nodded.

            She marveled at how calm she felt. She was going to find a way to kill this man.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

            The highway was dark and mostly deserted. Kate had no idea what time it was. She was trying to keep the fires of anger stoked to combat the terror.

            Her mind reviewed the various holds she’d learned in aikido. The intention of the lessons had been to teach the students how to break such holds, but nonetheless they’d had to learn the holds in order to practice on each other.

            Her gaze was glued to the rearview mirror, watching for an opportunity to slip a hand down and unlatch her seatbelt.

            Dave/Phil looked up and caught her eye. “You might as well relax. We’ve got a ways to go yet.”

            She gave him a feeble smile, then saw red taillights in the distance. And, hallelujah, the red and blue pulsating lights of a police car.

            Returning his gaze to the road, he also saw the back-up ahead. “What the fuck?” He hit the brakes.

            Kate braced herself with her feet as she slipped her left hand down to release the seatbelt. She quickly grasped her hands again in her lap, holding the seatbelt in place.

            The Prius slid to a stop. It wasn’t an accident as she’d assumed. Bright floodlights lit up a construction area. The police cruiser was parked at their end of it, its lights flashing no doubt to warn drivers of the back-up.

            They were roughly twenty cars back from the police car. Kate decided to bide her time.

            Dave/Phil looked up in the mirror. “You behave back there.”

            She hoped she looked sufficiently frightened. Again, she gave a small nod.

            As they crept forward, she prayed there was actually a police officer in that cruiser.

            When they were two cars back from it, Dave/Phil took the gun from his lap and slid it under his seat.

            As he straightened up, Kate made her move. In an instant, she’d wrapped her arm around his neck. She curled her other elbow around that wrist, locking her arm in place, and yanked back hard.

            He gasped and clawed at her arm.

            She tightened her grip. “Stop or I’ll break your neck,” she growled in his ear, giving him yet another yank to prove she meant it.

            “I can’t breathe,” he whispered.

            “Tough shit! Put your right hand on the steering wheel right now. Use your left to lower the window.”

            He tried to laugh but it came out as a wheeze. She tightened her hold on him yet again. His right hand instinctively came up to fight her.

            “There’s nothing I’d like more than an excuse to kill you.”

            His left hand fumbled for the window button. Then he tried to lurch forward, to reach under the seat for the gun.

            She snapped his head back. In the process, her elbow jabbed his injured shoulder. He let out a howl of pain and fought to squirm away from her.

            She yanked on his neck again. “Do what I say, shithead.”

            His right hand dropped to his lap. The window whirred down. Cars behind them were now honking their horns.

            “Put the car in park. Try for a different gear and you’ll be dead before the car moves.”

            He complied.

            A warm stickiness under her elbow. She glanced down. A circle of red had blossomed on the shoulder of his white jacket.

           
That’s for Mac, asshole!

            “Now put your right hand on the horn and press, and keep pressing until I say stop.”

            He didn’t move. She tightened her arm around his neck and ground her teeth in his ear.

            He laid on the horn.

            A police officer suddenly appeared outside the window.

            “You can’t stop here. Move a...” His voice trailed off when he saw Kate’s death hold on her captor’s neck.

            “Stop,” she ordered. “This guy kidnapped me–”

            Dave/Phil interrupted. “She’s a crazy woman,” he wheezed. “Get her off me.”

            The officer had unsnapped his holster, but his expression said he wasn’t at all sure what was going on.

            “He’s got a gun under the seat,” Kate yelled. “He kidnapped me and was planning to kill me. He’s the asshole who escaped police custody earlier tonight, at the hospital.”

            Something shifted on the officer’s face. He drew his gun. “You can let him go, lady.”

            “No I can’t. He’s a stone-cold killer. He’ll go for his gun and try to shoot you.”

            Despite the pressure on his neck, Dave/Phil smiled at the cop. “Officer, this lady is my wife. She’s a paranoid schizophrenic. She has spells like this.”

            Kate yanked. “Shut up, asshole, and put your hands on the wheel so the officer can handcuff you. Make a false move and I’ll snap your neck.”

            Dave/Phil made a gurgling noise in his throat. He went limp against her arm.

            “Look, lady, I believe you,” the cop said. “I heard the BOLO earlier. But you might want to let up some, before you choke him.”

            “Not if you and I want to live.”

            The cop now had handcuffs in one hand, his gun in the other. His face was a study in indecision.

            “Uh, you might actually want to holster your gun before you get too close to his hands,” Kate said.

            The cop still hesitated.

            Kate heard a gruff voice from behind him. “We got your back, Bob.” She glanced over to the side of the road. A half-dozen construction workers were lined up, most carrying wrenches or other lethal-looking tools. Several of them slapped their weapons against their gloved hands.

            Kate smiled for the first time in hours. “Now you play nice,
Phillip
, or I
will
break your neck! And these nice gentlemen will testify that it was justifiable homicide.”

            The officer holstered his gun, then stepped forward and opened the driver’s door.

            Dave/Phil came to life and tried to lunge sideways for the officer’s holster. Kate started to pull back again on his neck, but he was ripped from her grasp.

            The next thing she knew he was lying on the gravel shoulder, howling. The officer had planted one knee in the middle of his back and was yanking his arms behind him to cuff him.

            The construction workers closed in around them, blocking Kate’s view. She heard the slap of metal against work-gloved palms.

            “He’s probably got a scalpel on him somewhere,” Kate yelled as she scrambled over into the front seat. She reached under the driver’s seat and felt around. Pulling out the gun, she opened the passenger door and got out on that side.

            The cop had pulled Dave/Phil to a stand and was eyeing her nervously.

            Kate turned the gun around and handed it butt first to the nearest construction worker. “You might want to cover him while the officer searches him. He killed a doctor and a guard at the hospital, even with an injured shoulder.”

            The cop nodded. “Cover him.” He pushed Dave/Phil up against his cruiser and patted him down. He pulled a bloody scalpel from his sock.

            Opening the back door of the car, he put a hand on his prisoner’s head and shoved him down into the backseat. Dave/Phil let out another yelp of pain. The officer ignored him. He slammed the door closed.

            Keeping one eye on his prisoner, he half turned back toward Kate. “How’d he kidnap you?”

            “I’m one of the people he attempted to kill before. He came to my house tonight for a second crack at me.”

            She heard a low chuckle from the cluster of construction workers. “Looks like he messed with the wrong woman, don’t it, Bobby?”

            The officer’s mouth quirked up on one end.

            “Please don’t let him get away again,” Kate said. “Next time, I
will
kill him.”

            The adrenaline suddenly drained out of her system. “I’m going to go sit in my car now.” Her own voice sounded faint and far away. Her body trembled as she walked the few feet back to the Prius.

            The cop and the construction workers discreetly looked away while Kickass Kate threw up next to her car.

CHAPTER THIRTY

            “This is it.” Kate pointed to the flyer taped to the window. The glass was fogged with condensation from the muggy June night.

            Skip opened the door for her. They were greeted by a blast of air-conditioned chill. The small auditorium in the community center was half full. People of all ages, including a few teenagers were scattered in clumps on the metal folding chairs, chatting.

            Kate spotted Manny Ortiz waving to them. He had saved a group of seats three rows back. Rob, Liz and Dolph were already there. Kate slipped into the seat next to Rob. Skip sat down on the other side of her. She glanced at her watch. Ten minutes of eight.

            After greeting the others, Kate watched a few people wander over to a refreshment table and pour themselves cups of coffee from one of several pots on hot plates.

            Rob leaned over. “The State Attorney’s office called me today,” he whispered in her ear. “They struck a deal with Phillip Murell, aka David Samuelson.”

            Her mouth dropped open. She pulled back and stared at him.

            “No, no,” he quickly added. “It’s a good thing. He agreed to life without chance of parole.”

            She took a deep breath to slow her racing pulse. “Why?”

            “Maryland’s repeal of the death penalty just went into effect. Pennsylvania still has it. They wanted to extradite him for crimes committed up there.”

            Kate grinned at him. Then she turned to Skip and whispered the good news in his ear. He gave a thumbs up to Rob.

            Kate settled back in her chair.

            Rob nudged her shoulder. She turned toward him again.

            “I called an old buddy today. He’s the dean of the University of Baltimore Law School now. Looks like I might be teaching there part-time this fall.”

            Kate threw her arms around him. “That’s great! What are you going to do about your practice?”

            “Cut back some. Be a lot pickier about the cases I take.”

            “Sounds like a plan.”

            Mac lowered himself into the seat on the other side of Skip. “Never been to one of these,” he growled.

            Kate squeezed Rob’s hand, then leaned forward to greet Mac and Rose.

            A slender, middle-aged man with a pock-marked face stepped up to the podium. He called the meeting to order.

            Then the person they were all there to see walked up to the front of the room. He stood at the podium and gave the audience a shy smile. Leaning toward the microphone, he said, “Hi, folks. I’m Pete, and I’m an addict.”

            “Hi, Pete,” the room chorused.

            “As of today, I’ve been clean and sober one year.”

            Applause broke out, along with several cheers.

            “I’m also a recovering firefighter.”

            A smattering of chuckles.

            “Fighting fires was all I ever wanted to do, since I was a little kid. And my best friend wanted to be a cop. We spent hours daydreaming about what it would be like to be heroes someday.”

            Pete paused. “But when I grew up and became a firefighter, I didn’t feel like a hero. I was just doing my job. The job I loved. And I was happy.”

            Kate swallowed a lump in her throat.

            “A little less than twelve years ago, I was on vacation in New York, on September 11
^th
.”

            Pete looked right at Kate. They’d discussed this. He had never before shared in a twelve-step meeting–even with this, his home group–that he was a 9/11 first responder.

            She gave him a nod of encouragement.

            “I wasn’t on duty but people needed help. I ran into a burning building and rescued people. It’s what I do.”

            Pete cleared his throat. “I won’t bore you with the details of the next decade of my life. It was relatively uneventful. But on the tenth anniversary of 9/11, something snapped inside. My official diagnosis was delayed PTSD. I went downhill fast.”

            He stopped and took a drink of water from a cup on the table beside the podium.

            “Meanwhile my best friend and I had grown apart. He didn’t become a cop. He became a drug addict and a dealer. I still loved him but I couldn’t bear to be around him. We lost touch.”

            Pete sought her out again in the crowd. One of the tears pooling in her eyes had broken loose but she smiled at him.

            “Now I tracked him down. I wanted what he had to offer. Oblivion. I was willing to do anything to make the nightmares and flashbacks stop. He was so happy to see me when I knocked on his door.” Pete’s voice broke. He turned away for a moment, then leaned back into the microphone. ”Jimmy, I’m sorry.”

            Kate swiped at another runaway tear. The room was absolutely silent.

            Pete took a moment to compose himself. “I hit bottom shortly after I lost the job I loved. I was put on admin leave without pay. I had a year to get my act together. I came here. I started going to see a counselor. And I went back to pretending that Jimmy didn’t exist.” He stopped again, swallowing hard.