Kill Count (Detective Marcy Kendrick Book 4), page 21
“Where am I going, and how do I get in?”
“Do I have to explain your job to you?” He sounded pissed off. “I’ll text you the address. One of my guys, Scott Schueller, will have a uniform waiting for you. You just make sure you look like him. He’ll be on the door. I’ll send you a photo of him. They go on shift at nine.”
“Fine.” I hung up and waited for the texts.
I had a couple of hours to prepare, which it sounded like I was going to need to make sure I had my disguise correct.
My phone buzzed with a picture of the officer I was supposed to look like. It wouldn’t be too hard. He was young, mid-twenties, tanned, with spiky, ash blond hair and blue eyes. It looked as though he had a broken nose at some point because it was crooked. Luckily, he had a decent set of teeth, and I wouldn’t have to fake a broken tooth or discolor mine.
I got to work making the prosthetic nose, and while it set, I went through my wigs, finding the right shade I could dye to match his, and then I cut it so that it replicated his cut. For now I put on a pair of sweats and a white T-shirt along with some dark running shoes. I grabbed my kit and headed out, driving to the house in Santa Monica.
The house sat at the end of a dead-end street. The house across the street looked vacant, and the one next door was dark, but it looked lived in. I sat in my car and watched for a few minutes to see if there was anyone coming or going from the area, but it seemed quiet.
Getting out of my car, I closed the door softly and strolled over to the man I was to impersonate. His eyes widened upon seeing me.
“Damn, you look just like me,” he whispered. “I’m not going to go down for this, right?”
I shrugged. I had no idea if he would or not, but I doubted it. “Just get an alibi set up. Be somewhere else for a while.”
“Where the hell am I supposed to go?” he asked, handing me the uniform he’d stashed in the bushes.
I took the uniform from him, intending to change in the trees off to the far side of the house. “Maybe ask the officers inside if they want pizza, offer to go get it.”
“How does that help you?”
“Let me worry about that. Let me change. I’ll be back in a moment.” I strode off before he could say any more and got changed into the uniform. By the time I emerged, I looked like Scott Schueller’s twin brother. I hung the sweats up on a tree branch, intending to return for them after I completed this job, then headed back to Scott.
“Damn, you do look just like me; that’s freaky.”
“How many inside, and where are they all located?”
“Three inside, two in the living room. One of them is cool, works for El Gato. The other is older and wears glasses. The third is a woman; she’s probably in the hallway, guarding Valerie, who’s in the master bedroom.”
“What’s her name?”
“Corrina Miller, why?” He suddenly looked nervous.
I didn’t bother to answer his question. “Where is the master bedroom located? Where does the hallway go?”
He sighed and then used his finger on the side of the house to draw it out for me. “So if you enter through the front door, there’s a small room to the left that connects to the living room, go straight from the door and you’ll end up in the kitchen, but before the kitchen, if you take a right and go down the hallway, the master bedroom is on the right at the end.”
“Is there a back door?”
“Yeah, in the kitchen, but the yard is fenced.”
“There’s a gate on the side, though.” I’d seen it as I went to the wooded area on the side of the house.
“It’s been padlocked shut.”
I smirked. “That’s not going to stop me. Where does the back door go?”
“To the kitchen.”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “I know that; where in the kitchen does it go? Is there a line of sight to the living room?”
Scott frowned as if thinking about it. “Yeah, there’s an open archway that leads from the breakfast nook in the kitchen to the living room, but they’re facing the TV and will have their backs to you.”
“Give it five minutes, and then go in and offer to get pizza. Don’t let them ask Valerie or the guard on her door if they want some. Go to the hall and, when you see me, make the call, but then return to the living room and make sure they don’t check on Miller.”
“Right.” He nodded. “Then what?”
I rolled my eyes. “When the pizza gets here, answer the door.”
He frowned but then acquiesced. “Okay, if you think that will work.”
I hoped he wouldn’t screw this up. If he did, I might have to kill him and the other cops here. I didn’t like relying on others. It got messy. I headed to the side of the yard, pulled on a pair of clear latex gloves, and got out my lock picks. It took me less than a minute to get the padlock on the gate off.
I eased the wooden gate open and crept close to the house, moving along the siding toward the back door. I continued toward the windows just past the door. I wanted to get a look inside to see where the two officers were. Seeing them seated on the sofa, their backs to the kitchen, focused on the baseball game on the TV, I was reassured.
I moved to the back door and got to work on the handle lock and dead bolt. With it unlocked, I put my lock picks away and returned them to my bag. I pulled out the two syringes, as well as the hunting knife and extra latex gloves. I slid the knife into the waistband of my pants on my left hip. The syringes I put in my right pocket and my gloves in the left. They were different colors so I would be sure to use the correct one on the right person. The light blue one, which also had an indention on the top, was full of an anesthetic and sedative, and I’d be using it on the female guard. I didn’t want to kill her. Just incapacitate her.
I set my bag down next to the door and turned the knob, gently easing the door open. I heard Scott come in the front door and waited for him to engage with the two guards in the living room.
“Hey, it’s all quiet out there. I was thinking of ordering pizza. Do you guys want some?” Scott’s voice carried into the kitchen.
“I’d like some. Pepperoni,” one of the men answered.
“Yeah, pepperoni sounds good; should I go ask Miller what she wants?” the other man asked.
“She likes plain cheese. I already asked her,” Scott said. “I’ll go call it in.”
I made my move. I saw Scott in the hallway and nodded at him, then turned and walked down the corridor toward the bedrooms. I could see a woman leaned against the wall, her eyes closed, her arms crossed. She was making it too easy. I fingered the syringe in my pocket, pushing the cap off the needle.
Her eyes opened, and she said, “Oh, hey—”
Quickly reaching for her, I covered her mouth and stuck the needle in her neck, then as she went under, I gently lowered her to the floor. I’d have thirty minutes or so to get this done and back out to my car before the pizza arrived. I slipped into the room and noticed Valerie on the bed, asleep. That was good for me.
She didn’t move as I crept toward her, needle ready. I put my hand over her mouth and injected her. She woke and struggled for a moment, but then the drugs kicked in; she’d be gone soon. I waited a moment for the heavy painkiller to kick in, and then got to work with the knife. I slit her throat, carved up her body, making the scene as bloody as I could, since that was what Alejandro wanted, the asshole.
When I was done, I placed the Black Cat’s queen of clubs on the bed and stabbed it through with the hunting knife, leaving it behind. I’d wiped it free of prints, and I’d bought it secondhand, so it wouldn’t be traceable. My gloves were bloody, so I removed them and pulled the extra pair from my other pocket, trading them out. After putting on the spare, I opened the door and closed it behind me, stepped over Miller, and then crouched in the archway between the hallway and kitchen, listening.
Twenty minutes had passed, I noted on the clock on the kitchen wall. I could hear the three men in the living room; they were loud as they watched the game. Scott was with them. I was glad he’d covered himself and wouldn’t be causing Alejandro trouble. I’d hate to have to hunt him down and kill him too.
With them occupied, I silently crept through the darkened kitchen to the back door. Opening it, I slipped out, turning the lock before pulling it closed behind me. I picked up my bag and went back the way I came. In the woods once more, I changed out of the Huntington Beach police uniform and returned to my car.
As I drove away, I dialed Alejandro. When he answered, I said, “It’s done.”
“Bueno. No issues with the officers?”
“No.”
“Your next targets are Kendrick and then her partner, Reyes. They know too much. I don’t care how you do it; make it look like an accident or a home invasion. Just get it done tonight.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I questioned.
“If you aren’t going to do what I pay you for, then maybe I need to terminate your contract and you.”
“Have I ever not completed a contract you put out on someone?”
“See that you don’t this time either because I will make you disappear if you do.” He hung up.
“Fuck.” I hit the steering wheel. This was getting out of hand, and Alejandro was getting too cocky for my liking. The longer I stayed in LA, and the more assassinations I did, the greater the chance that I would get caught. And this cop, Marcy Kendrick, I’d read up on her. She was good. Not just at her job, but overall a good person. She didn’t deserve this.
I could disobey him and fly down to Mexico instead. It wasn’t as though he’d ever find me. Maybe I could break my contract without losing my reputation; it was something to think on.
34
A WAKE-UP CALL
MARCY
Frank hadn’t been able to come over, so I’d spent the evening binging four episodes of Reacher before getting ready for bed. Being alone, I’d taken a quick shower and then put on an old T-shirt with Scooby-Doo on it and a pair of cotton shorts. It had taken me forever to fall asleep as my mind played through all the evidence of the case.
A sound somewhere in the house woke me. I grabbed my Glock—I still hadn’t gotten my service weapon back—from the bedside table and pulled the slide back, chambering a round. Listening intently, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, putting my bare feet on the wooden floor. My bedroom door was open, so I could move into the hallway easily. I kept my back to the wall as I walked through my house. I looked in the exercise room first, then the guest room, clearing them both, then moved into the kitchen.
If Jordan had broken into my house, I would not hesitate to shoot him. The man had lost his marbles, and he was asking for trouble. He’d already beaten Katie, so I wasn’t going to let him do the same to me. He had to know I wouldn’t be bluffing.
I started toward the back door to check if it was still locked when I heard a creak on the floor behind me. I spun and fired a shot, startling the man standing there as something clattered to the floor. I kept my gun pointed at him as I looked around for the object that he’d dropped. I found it in the sliver of moonlight that shone through the window. A syringe.
I backed up and hit the light switch by the door, flooding my kitchen with light. He was holding his ear as he pulled a gun from his back and pointed it at me.
“This is going to go one of two ways,” I said, feeling rather feral as adrenaline flooded me. I recognized him as the man who had followed me while I was jogging the other day. Knowing who he was now sent a chill down my spine at how close I’d come to being another victim of El Vibora.
He arched a brow and stared at me, almost mockingly as if he was asking me to explain my thought.
I wanted to snarl at him and just shoot him anyway, but I didn’t. Not yet. “I shoot you in the face and you die, or you drop your weapon, and you live to see another day.” My voice was hard.
He didn’t move a muscle; his finger was flat against the trigger, not poised to pull it yet as he said, “I didn’t want it to come to this.” His voice was bland, unemotional.
“It still doesn’t have to. Killing me isn’t going to stop the wheels of justice. Your boss is going down no matter what. Valerie has already given her video testimony in case something happens to her. And we have Samson’s files. Video evidence of El Gato. Alejandro Gómez is going down, and you’re going with him.”
“I’m not going do—” he started as the glass in my kitchen window to the left of me shattered. His gun hand moved from me to the new target, and he fired two shots toward the window.
I heard a scream from outside that sounded an awful lot like Jordan. I glanced toward the window, but as soon as I turned back to El Vibora, I realized he was gone. I heard the front door slam shut and hoped that he’d left, but I was afraid he was attempting to trick me.
Pissed off, I headed out the back door and around the side of the house to see Jordan on the ground, holding his right shoulder.
“You fucking shot me!” he screamed.
“I did not,” I said, squatting down to check his wound. It was a through and through. “Don’t move. I’ll go call this in and get you an ambulance.” I kept my tone calm; however, I was anything but that.
Returning to the house, I cleared it, turning on every light in every room to make sure that bastard wasn’t hiding out anywhere. I checked behind curtains, under beds, and in every closet. When I was sure he was gone, I grabbed my cell and called in both the break-in and Jordan’s injury, then pocketed the phone as I returned to his side with my gun still in my hand. I wasn’t putting it away for anything or anyone.
He was moaning on the grass, his hand on his shoulder, trying to stop the blood. “What the fuck took you so long?” he slurred.
It was then I realized he was drunk. “What the hell were you even doing here, Jordan? Why did you bust my kitchen window? Was my bedroom window not enough? Hell.”
“You made Katie leave,” he mumbled under his labored breath.
“That was all you, Jordan. Not me.” I heard the sirens coming and added, “Just hang in there; the ambulance is almost here.”
His eyes were fluttering, and I wondered if he was going to pass out. I wasn’t even sure I cared if he did. I didn’t think his wound was fatal, but he was losing quite a bit of blood, so I hoped they’d hurry and get here.
“Jordan?” I said, looking at him, reaching a hand down to shake his good shoulder.
The hand he’d been holding his wound with slid from it, and he didn’t answer me.
“Damn it,” I muttered, setting down my gun on the ground within easy reach, and putting pressure on the wound with both hands. I wasn’t going to let him die here in my yard. Lord knew he’d probably come back and haunt me forever if he did.
35
CAUGHT IN THE ACT
MARCY
As the paramedics arrived, I felt my shoulders relax a little. Patrol officers were right behind them, as three police vehicles, their sirens wailing, came to a halt in front of my house. I was sure my new neighbors were thrilled at being woken at three in the morning by all of this. I was going to have to do something big to apologize to them. I was really glad I didn’t live in an HOA neighborhood. They’d probably kick me out for all of this.
Of the six officers who’d arrived, I only recognized two of them, Mendoza and Peters. I gave them a nod as they rushed over.
“What have we got?” Mendoza asked, his weapon drawn.
“I need an immediate search of my house and the neighborhood.” I knew it was probably a fruitless endeavor, but I wanted to know if El Vibora was still hanging around. “You’re looking for a man with graying brown hair, hazel eyes and a large nose dressed all in black. Be on your guard; he’s absolutely lethal.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Peters replied as he turned to direct the other officers.
“Ma’am, we’ll take over,” one of the medics said, trying to move me away from Jordan.
I released my hold on his shoulder, wiped my hands on my shirt, and picked up my gun. Moving out of the way, I left them to do their job and went to the front of my house. I heard another siren and turned to see an SUV quickly approaching.
A moment later, Angel was running toward me. “Marce! Are you okay?” He grabbed my forearms and looked me over.
“I’m fine, Angel,” I replied, “just a little shaken. Who called you?”
“Robinson.”
That made sense. Dispatch would have informed him one of his officers was attacked.
“Where is he? I’ll kill him.” He was seething as he looked around, his eyes lighting on the paramedics in my side yard. He started toward them, but I grabbed his arm.
“Don’t. It wasn’t Jordan. Well, it was, but for once, he actually might have just saved my bacon.”
“What?”
“El Vibora was here. He was going to kill me. At least I’m pretty sure that was his intention.” I wondered if the syringe he’d dropped was still in my kitchen. As I explained what had happened, Angel’s face grew pale.
“Stay here. I’m going to check your kitchen and make sure patrol cleared your house.”
“Pretty sure he’s long gone, but whatever,” I said with a nod.
He paused and looked back at me. “Call Frank,” he said before heading toward my house.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and hit Frank’s number. He answered almost immediately.
“TT? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Frank, I need you to be calm.”
“What the fuck happened? Who do I need to kill?”
“You sure you want to ask that? I’m a police detective too, you know.”
“TT, stop making jokes and please tell me what’s going on before I have a heart attack.”
“El Vibora was here. In my house,” I said, trying to keep my tone calm. “I’m fine. I swear, no injuries. At least not to me.”
“You shot him?”
I snorted. “No, might have grazed his ear, but I don’t think so. He shot Jordan.”
