Chapter 3 #2
“It would have been the last thing it did,” he growled. “As it was, I’m the one that ended its reign of terror, but not soon enough. The lives it claimed… The terror they must have experienced when it dragged them to that sewer…”
Her brain suddenly clicked. “You’re talking about the Sewer Massacre.”
“Yeah.”
She remembered reading about it in the paper with horror. The hundreds of bones the police recovered almost impossible to match to victims given the sheer number. Not to mention the killer had struck the unhoused population first, many of whom were never even reported missing.
“You did the city a great service that day. If you’d not stopped the killer, who knows how many more would have died?”
“Too many did die because it took too long for us to locate its lair.”
She noticed how he continued to refer to the killer as “it,” as if it were some creature. Then again, someone indulging in that kind of depravity lacked humanity, so it was understandable.
“How long did you take afterwards to recover from the trauma?”
“A few weeks. I was a mess,” he admitted.
“I spent that entire time drunk off my ass. Eventually, my friends slapped me and told me to sober up. They needed me, and so I tried to pull myself together. Managed to get back to work, which I always do sober,” he stated, glancing at her quickly.
“But as soon as I finish a task, I suckle at a bottle. It’s a wonder I haven’t died of liver poisoning,” he uttered with a self-deprecating laugh.
“You’re sober right now.”
“I am. Didn’t drink at all last night.” He grimaced. “Not because I didn’t want to. I craved a shot of whiskey something fierce.”
“But you didn’t give in. Why?”
He didn’t immediately reply. When he did, it emerged slow and low-timbered. “Because I was given an important job. One I can’t fuck up.”
She didn’t pry into the details. His job with the police wasn’t her business, but she did wonder why this particular case proved enough to break his cycle. “This is a good first step. What about once you’ve completed your current investigation? Are you planning to stay sober?”
“I’d like to.”
“Have you given thought of joining an AA group?”
He laughed. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because, until yesterday, I didn’t want to quit.”
She’d opened her mouth to ask a question when her buzzer went off. Her lips pursed. Now what? She still had half an hour until her next session.
“Guess my turn is over.”
“No. Whoever rang doesn’t have an appointment. I have a plaque in the waiting room that clearly explains they need to call and make one.”
He swung his legs off the lounge and sat up. “Do you often get people walking in?”
“No. I work mainly by referral and have no need to advertise, hence the lack of sign outside.”
He rose and went to the door, placing his ear against it.
“You won’t hear anything unless they shout,” she advised. “The room is soundproofed.”
He glanced around. “Do you have an exit from your office that doesn’t lead to the waiting area?”
“Yes. Since I don’t like patients to run into each other, they leave at the rear.” She indicated the door leading to the alley. “No one will see you when you depart.”
“Wasn’t worried about that,” he muttered as he went to the window behind her desk and peeked out.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, noticing his tense body posture.
“There’s someone in the alley.”
“It’s an oft-used shortcut,” she remarked. She didn’t mention the fact that many used the alley to do drugs.
“They’re trying to open your door.”
“It happens, hence why the rear entrance is always locked.”
“A lock won’t stop them if they’re determined. You don’t have cameras.” Stated, not asked.
She shook her head. “No, although I was thinking of getting some.”
The handle on the office door turned as someone tried to open it.
Rude. She shouted, “Whoever is out there, I’m currently conducting a session. Please call to make an appointment.”
No reply, but Leo’s frown deepened. “You shouldn’t have let them know you were in here.”
“It’s probably just someone looking to book my services.”
“At the same time as someone is trying to come in through the rear?” He snorted. “You’re being na?ve.”
At his rebuke, Ruth’s lips pinched. “More likely you’re being paranoid.”
“You’re in danger,” he stated with utter seriousness.
“Danger of what? I understand, as an officer of the law, you’re used to seeing crime, but I assure you, while rare, people do sometimes enter without an appointment.”
“And the guy trying to get in from the alley?”
She shrugged. “A coincidence. They’ll move on soon enough.”
“And here I thought they’d wait more than a day to strike again,” he muttered.
“What are you talking about?”
“That break-in yesterday wasn’t an accident. You were targeted.”
“Not unheard of in the neighborhood. As a police officer, you should know home invasions are on the rise.”
“Would you stop blowing me off? I’m being serious. You’re in danger, as in there are people after you,” he snapped.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she huffed, breaking a cardinal rule of therapy by belittling his claims, but at this point, she was getting annoyed by his paranoid delusion. “No one is after me.”
“If you say so,” he muttered as the handle to her office once more turned and thudded as someone shoved against it.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” she ordered as he lifted the club chair and wedged it under the doorknob.
Her belly tightened as he blocked the door.
“Can’t leave. I’ve been told to protect you.”
“Told by who?”
For some reason, his lips twitched as he said, “A very demanding pregnant lady. Apparently, you have something they”—he pointed to the door—“want.”
“Like what? I don’t prescribe drugs. The strongest thing I have in my medicine cabinet is Tylenol, and I don’t deal in cash.”
“It’s not drugs or money they’re after, but your father’s secrets.” His gaze went to the drawing on her desk.
Her brow furrowed. “What secrets? The man’s been dead more than two decades.”
“And you’re his daughter. What else did he leave you other than that picture?”
“Nothing. I got rid of most of his things when my mother died.”
“Most, not all. What did you keep?” he questioned.
She might have not replied but for the thump against the backdoor. Her gaze slewed to it as she murmured, “Just a few letters and pictures. Oh, and his journal.”
He stiffened. “This journal, where do you keep it?”
“Usually, it’s in my office upstairs, but my therapist—”
“You see a shrink?” He sounded surprised.
Her chin lifted. “I do. You’re not the only one with unresolved issues. Although mine revolve around my father. Hence why the journal is in my car. My therapist wanted me to bring it to my next session.”
“And where is your car?” he asked as someone thumped against the door to the waiting room.
Perhaps he wasn’t being ridiculous. Someone seemed determined to get inside.
“I keep it a block over in a parking garage. Surely you don’t think—”
She never got to finish her sentence because he suddenly flung open the back door, and a man, dressed in black—that included a face-concealing mask—stumbled in. Leo grabbed him by the head and kneed him in the face.
“Oh!” she exclaimed in wide-eyed shock. All she could say as Leo took the limp man and tossed him across the room in time to brace for the second man who slammed into him.
Leo didn’t budge but wrapped his arms under the attacker’s and lifted him before dropping him hard.
Something crunched.
A faint Ruth wavered on her feet. What happened? Why were these men trying to break in? Why did Leo just attack without doing any of the normal cop things like yelling “Halt. Police”?
He glanced at the door vibrating in its frame as those in the waiting room tried to break it open.
“Time to go.”
“Go where? Shouldn’t you be calling for backup?”
“Do you really want to spend a day in the station answering questions?”
“How else would I press charges?”
“For fuck’s sake. These aren’t normal criminals.”
“Then what are they?” she cried with equal frustration.
“Mercenaries, sent here to retrieve that picture and your father’s journal.”
The answer baffled. “But why?”
“I don’t have time for this. We gotta go now before those assholes manage to break through.” He snatched the drawing from her desk.
“I’m not—”
Her exclamation cut off as he grabbed hold of her and slung her over a brawny shoulder. It took her a second to yelp, “Put me down this instant.”
“Nope.” He exited into the alley, where an SUV was parked and idling. The driver side door opened, and yet another man dressed in black emerged.
Holding a gun.
While the driver was in the process of raising it, Leo somehow managed to pull a weapon of his own and fired.
Ruth stayed quiet. Very, very quiet because, while she might have been able to argue that the man in the office who’d been crunched by Leo might have just been unconscious, the hole in this fellow’s head definitely made him dead.
Leo had killed him, and now he loped down the alley, holding her tight, and it suddenly occurred to her that she only had his word about being a police officer. That she knew nothing about this man.
Therefore, when he stopped at the end of the alley and barked, “Where’s this parking garage?” she thought it best to not antagonize him. He’d not yet harmed her. Perhaps if she cooperated, he’d leave her alone once he got what he wanted.
“Keep going west. You’ll see the sign. But I don’t have my fob to get in.” Her keys still hung on the rack in her home.
“That won’t be a problem” he muttered, tapping his ear. “Aquarius, you there?” Pause. “I need access to a parking garage one block west of my location.” Another pause, then he added, “Be sure to lock it down to anyone else after I enter.”
Ruth closed her eyes as she chastised herself for not recognizing just how delusional Leo was.
Talking to the voices in his head. Killing people because he thought they were after him, or her.
Didn’t matter. Most likely those men at her office were the true law enforcement, trying to capture Leo, who was obviously a dangerous criminal.
To think she’d been taken in by his story. In her defense, he’d sounded sincere. She should have known better. Those in the grips of psychosis one hundred percent believed what they experienced was real.
Ruth would have to be very careful if she wanted to escape. She didn’t want to end up with a bullet in the brain.
A quiet Ruth held on as Leo ran down the sidewalk, the residential street still fairly quiet this time of day. Not that people would have done anything. The days of good Samaritans had mostly passed. Most people no longer wanted the headache that came with getting involved.
Besides, she didn’t really want anyone to interfere because she got the strong impression Leo wouldn’t hesitate to use force against anyone who tried to stop him.
To her surprise, as Leo ran down the sloped ramp leading into the garage, the massive door began to roll up, yet no car was behind them.
He ducked under it before it fully lifted and barked, “We’re inside. Close it.”
The door halted its ascent and descended.
Ruth was confused. Was Leo actually conversing with someone?
Someone who could remotely access the garage controls?
That seemed like something out of a spy movie.
Who the heck was Leo? Because he certainly wasn’t a police officer.
They didn’t have that kind of coordination and access to private businesses.
“Where’s your car?” he asked.
“Level C, slot 14.” It didn’t even occur to her to lie.
He followed the signs, not once slowing, nor breathing hard. Impressive. She got winded going up her own stairs.
Only once they reached her SUV—in its soothing cactus-gray color—did he set Ruth on her feet.
“No keys, I take it?” he muttered, trying the handle on the driver’s side.
“No. How did you get the garage open?”
He didn’t spare a glance or a reply but rather spoke to whoever Aquarius was again. “Hey, I’ve got a 2024 Ford Bronco Sport in front of me. I need access.” He canted his head. “Hold on a second. I’ll send you an image.”
He whipped out a phone and took a picture of the VIN number visible through her windshield.
It occurred to Ruth that his distraction might be a good time to flee.
She took one sneaky step, only to hear, “Don’t you dare run. I’m not in the mood to chase.”
“And I’m not in the mood to be kidnapped,” she snapped in reply.
He turned a glower on her. “I am trying to save you, so fucking cooperate.”
“Save me from what?”
“The people after your father’s journal and image.”
“Why would anyone want them? They’re decades old!” she shouted back, losing her composure.
“Because they contain a clue to find something valuable.”
“They do?” A reply wreathed in confusion. “How do you know that?”
“Because a seer told me.”
Yup. He was definitely crazy—with connections.
Her Bronco suddenly unlocked, and the engine roared to life as he said, “Thanks, bro. Talk to you in a bit.”
He pointed to the SUV. “Get in.”
“You’ve got what you wanted. You don’t need me.”
“Get. In.”
The bullet that whipped past and struck the cement column, sending shards flying, made the decision for her.
Ruth dove into the passenger seat and, at his barked, “Duck into the footwell. You’ll be harder to hit,” obeyed. She also closed her eyes and prayed to a god she didn’t believe in.
Please don’t let me die.
Because she had so many questions.