Chapter Twenty-Eight
“You two women. Get over there and sit in front of the door. If they try to shoot their way in, you’ll be the ones who get killed. Do it now!”
Val watched in horror as Carmen and Ursula scurried forward and sat down on the white marble floor, their backs against the eight-foot bathroom door.
The room was huge, all white marble with gold nozzles and gilded molded ceilings.
There were three separate toilet stalls and a mirrored dressing table that seemed half a block long.
The bathroom was part of a private spa with a steam room, a Jacuzzi, a nail and hair parlor, even a massage table.
A noise started in the distance. The rumble of a helicopter descending over the house kicked Val’s wildly speeding pulse up another notch.
“You! Get over here by the phone.” He was in his mid-twenties, tall and thin to the point of gaunt, with longish brown hair and very pale blue eyes. If Val could see his forearm beneath the sleeve of his coat, she could be certain it was Byron Mahler, but deep down she already knew.
He was pointing at Amarika, who stood in front of the mirror, shaking all over. Beneath her ebony skin, her features actually looked pale.
“The police are going to call,” the man said. “When they do, you’re going to answer. You understand?” He’d been waiting when she and Carmen walked in, had shoved them into a corner with Amarika and Ursula, who were already inside the spa.
“Yes . . .” Amarika’s voice shook, but she moved over to the phone, stood stock-still as the man’s pale eyes slid over her.
His short white jacket and the black pants he wore matched those worn by the valets and serving people, exactly how Mahler had managed to gain access to Latham’s private party.
Val thought of Ethan and fought not to tremble. Ethan would be frantic by now. She amended that: Ethan would be calmly, fiercely in control. And he would do whatever it took to save them.
She held on to the thought as she looked at the man pointing a big black semiautomatic pistol directly at her heart. She wondered if the knife he had used to kill Mandy Gee was the one stuffed into the top of his pants, and a tremor ran down her spine.
She figured he had come in through the rear entrance leading to the spa from inside the house. The heavy massage table now barricaded that door.
Mahler started pacing. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and trickled down the side of his neck. Val moistened her lips and clamped down on her fear.
“You’re Byron, right?” She couldn’t stand there a moment longer. She had to do something, find some way to reach him, try to talk him down, or at least keep him occupied till Ethan and the police could figure out a way to get them out of there.
He stopped pacing, his pale gaze sharpening on her face. “How do you know my name?”
“My bodyguard figured it out. We talked to Mrs. Bruckner. She said you had a very difficult childhood.” Not exactly the truth, but she needed to make some kind of connection. She had seen that done on TV.
He sneered. “That old woman talked to you? She never did know her place. Just like the rest of you women. You all need to be taught a lesson.” His gaze skimmed up and down her body, and a shiver of fear moved through her.
She tried not to think of what he’d done to Mandy Gee, but she’d read the gruesome details in the paper. Now she wished she didn’t know.
He walked over to where she stood, reached out and wrapped a hand around her throat. “My mother was a whore, just like all of you. Did old lady Bruckner tell you that?”
She didn’t move. If he squeezed, she wouldn’t be able to breathe.
He let go of her and reached into the pocket of his short white jacket, pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He flipped it a couple of times till the sheet opened up.
“Read it out loud,” he demanded.
Val swallowed. Her mouth felt dry. “Sinners, sluts, and whores—repent or burn in hell.” The words on the printed page were all in different fonts, many in bold letters. It was modeled after the original notes, just like the one he had left at Mandy Gee’s.
He tossed the note on top of the dresser. “I’m going to teach all of you a lesson. Just like I did that stripper. And I’m going to start with you.”
A shot of dizziness struck her. She imagined Mandy’s beaten and bloody body and thought she might faint.
“Byron Mahler!” A shout came from the other side of the door. “This is Lieutenant Alvarez with the Atlanta Police Department. Come out with your hands in the air!”
Mahler walked to the door. “I’m not coming out!” he shouted back. “I’ve got a .45 caliber pistol and an eight-inch knife. And I’ve got four of your women! Make a move and I’ll kill them, one by one. You hear me?”
The phone rang just then, startling Val out of her petrified trance. Mahler turned and motioned for Amarika to answer it. Her hand shook as she picked up the receiver and pressed it against her ear.
“Hello, this . . . this is Amarika.” Her eyes looked huge as she stared back at Mahler. “It’s . . . it’s Lieutenant Alvarez. He says to put the phone on speaker. Is that okay?”
Mahler nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Are you listening, Byron?” the lieutenant asked, his voice calm but firm.
“I hear you.”
“There’s a SWAT team out here. You’re not getting out of there alive unless you cooperate.”
The police had arrived in the chopper. They would be doing their best to get the women out safely. Val just hoped whatever they were planning didn’t get them all killed.
“We’ve got every exit covered,” the lieutenant continued. “There’s only one good way for this to end, Mahler, and that’s for you to toss out your weapons and surrender to the police.”
Mahler just laughed. “You thought I couldn’t get in, didn’t you? I guess I showed you. Now I’m gonna show these little whores. I’ll tell you what. I’ll let two of them go, but the other two stay. You can have them after I’ve had my fill.”
Nausea rolled through her. Val’s legs felt weak. She knew what he was thinking, that he couldn’t control all four of them but two he could handle. She gripped the marble counter to stay on her feet.
“That isn’t going to happen, Byron,” the lieutenant said. “I’ll tell you what. You let two of the women leave right now, then we’ll make some kind of trade for the other two. Does that sound fair?”
A grating chuckle pushed up from his throat. “How would I know what’s fair? I’m insane. That’s what the doctors are all going to say. I won’t have to go to prison. They’ll just put me in some cushy institution.”
The lieutenant made no reply because it was probably true.
Val looked at the other women. They were all thinking the same thing. He couldn’t kill all four of them at once. But if they went after his gun, at least one of them was going to die.
“I’ll tell you what,” Mahler said. “I’ll let three of the women go, but one stays here. I mean to take her, use her real good, then you can have her.”
“Just take it easy, okay? We’ve got plenty of time. Let’s try to work this out.”
“You’ve got ten minutes to make the deal. You give me the one, and I let the others go. If not, I kill them all, one at a time. I’m going to cut their throats and let them bleed out on the floor.” Mahler pushed the button on the phone, ending the call.
Val just stood there, feeling light-headed, trying to force air into her lungs.
“Look, Lieutenant, Valentine Hart is my assignment. I need to get in there.” Ethan tried not to let his desperation show, drew on everything he had ever learned to stay in control.
“I’m an ex-cop, all right? I know the drill.
Let me go in with you.” Val was way more than a job, but if the cops knew that, he didn’t have a prayer of going in.
“Sorry, you’re a civilian. I can’t allow you to get involved.”
A big black plainclothes detective stepped up beside him. “This is Ethan Brodie, Lieutenant. He’s the guy who fingered Mahler. He’s ex-Dallas homicide. How about letting him go in as backup?”
The black cop turned to Ethan, stuck out a meaty hand. “Detective Ricky Melon. Heath Ford says he owes you, asked me to look out for you.”
He gripped Melon’s hand, nodded a quick thanks. “Appreciate the help.” Time was of the essence. He turned back to the man in charge. “I’m armed. I just need a vest, Lieutenant.”
Five ten and completely bald, Alvarez released a slow breath. “Damn, I know better than to do this.” He tipped his head toward one of his men. “Get Brodie a vest and let’s get this show on the road.”
Relief and resolve filtered through him. Ethan shrugged into the black body armor the cop handed him, settled it in place over his tux, then pulled out his Glock and checked the load.
“Call him,” the lieutenant ordered the officer working the portable phone. “After what this guy did to the stripper, we don’t have time to get eyes and ears in there. See if we can get him back on an open line.”
“You got it.”
Moments later, Byron Mahler was talking again, making more threats that Ethan believed he absolutely meant to carry out. He moved in behind SWAT as they headed for the rear entrance to the spa, silently praying they would get to Val and the others before it was too late.
The lieutenant’s voice sounded scratchy as it came over the speakerphone line. “I need you to listen to me, Byron. You don’t want to hurt those women. They haven’t done anything to you. You need to let them go.”
“Time’s running out, Lieutenant. What’s your answer? We got a deal? One for three?”
There was only a moment’s hesitation in the police officer’s voice. “All right, we’ve got a deal.” There was really no choice. Three women would be safe. Only one left to save, only one life at risk instead of all four of them. Val shivered.
“Send three out,” the lieutenant agreed. “Then we wait, give you time with the other one. Soon as you’re finished, you give yourself up. Okay?”
Mahler’s satisfied smile made the bile rise at the back of Val’s throat.
“Three for one. Here they come.”
Striding to the door, he dragged Carmen and Ursula to their feet. “You on the phone,” he said to Amarika. “Get over here.”
With a terrified glance at Val, Amarika raced across the room to join the other two women.
Val stood frozen. She shouldn’t have said anything to Mahler. She shouldn’t have done anything to get herself singled out.
Mahler shot her a malevolent glare. “You stay where you are, you hear me?”
Val nodded, but she was ready to bolt the minute Mahler opened the door.
“You still there, Lieutenant?” Mahler asked through the open phone line.
“I’m right here. Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Byron.”
“I’m sending three of them out to you. You better not shoot or you’ll kill them.” Mahler jerked open the door and shoved all three women out into the corridor. At the same time, an explosion rocked the room, blowing the back door off its hinges, and the vent in the ceiling crashed open.
Val screamed as six men in full body armor carrying assault rifles stormed the gigantic bathroom. Another SWAT officer dropped down through the opening in the ceiling. The last man to enter, a pistol gripped in both hands, wore a tactical vest over a black tuxedo.
Val saw Mahler’s hand come up, then she was jerked out of the way as Ethan stepped in front of her, shielding her with his big, hard body. Shots rang out. She couldn’t count how many, but they didn’t come from Mahler’s weapon. She didn’t see him die, but she heard his body hit the floor.
She grabbed hold of Ethan and buried her face in his chest.
“I’ve got you,” he said, holding her so tight she couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to, which she didn’t.
Ethan smoothed back her hair. “You women and your goddamn bathroom breaks. Sweet Jesus, lady, you scared the piss out of me.” He took a deep, steadying breath and kissed the top of her head. “What am I going to do with you, Valentine?”
Val stared up at him, her ears still ringing with the echo of gunshots and the chaos around her.
A single sob escaped. It turned into a moan that seemed to tear loose inside her.
The moan dragged on, then turned into a giggle.
She started laughing, laughed harder, laughed so hard she was shaking all over.
Ethan’s arms tightened around her. “It’s okay,” he said gently, moving her toward the door. “It’s just the adrenaline. It’ll pass in a minute.”
The laughter shifted, changed back into sobs that turned into uncontrollable weeping. Ethan lifted her into his arms and started striding past the SWAT guys, outside into the fresh night air. He didn’t stop until they were well away from the chaos overrunning the mansion.
“You’re all right.” He sat down in a chair at the table farthest from the pool and settled Val in his lap. “You’re safe, honey. We’re going home tomorrow. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Hysterical laughter threatened again. She finally managed to stop crying. Dragging in a shaky breath, she sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“That’s right. How could I forget? We’re going home tomorrow. Back to Seattle—where another maniac is lying in wait to murder us. Everything is going to be just great.”