Thriller, page 17
Junior was surprised. “No kiddin’? I guess if you’re talkin’ to me, she didn’t get you.”
“It was close,” Walker reported, “but I nailed her just before she got a chance to put a slug in my head. There was a lot of blood, Junior, more than usual ’cause we were right next to each other. I cleaned it all up pretty decent, but just as soon as we hang up, I’m gonna find a new place to stay. I paid for another week here, so they won’t be checking on this condo for another few days. I’m gonna make myself invisible for a while.”
“Speaking of invisible, what’d you do with Louise?”
“She’s in a garbage bag in a dumpster outside. You think New York’s got a lot of dumpsters, Junior? It looks like they got more per square foot here, and that made it an easy throw down.”
Junior doubted that. “C’mon, Walker. That ain’t possible. There’s a dumpster here for every building. Sometimes two or three, or more.”
Walker inwardly smiled. “You got me. I was exaggerating a bit. But you get the idea. You know what else? That Louise had a nifty little plastic gun and some bullets. I saved it before I tossed her. It fits right into my sock without makin’ too big a bulge, and that’s where it’s stashed right now.”
Junior was intrigued. “A plastic gun? And it works?”
“Sure does. It almost got me. If I was a bettin’ man, I’d wager somebody made it with one of those 3D printers.”
“Hey, maybe I should get one. I guess you can use them to make a lot more than I thought.”
Walker responded, “Probably can. When I go out, I’ll be puttin’ my regular piece in my waistband as usual, but with this little popgun in my sock, I’ll feel extra safe.”
“Cool.”
“She also had a phony US Marshal badge and identification card. I’m gonna doctor that up, and then I’m goin’ out to find one of those tourist photo machines and do the same to the driver’s license I traded for a couple of days ago. That way I’ll have two IDs that say I’m Fred Harding.”
“Think they’ll send someone else after you from here?”
“No idea. If you hear anything you know how to reach me. But with a new name, it’ll take them an awful long time to find me even if they do send someone. Listen, mostly, I just called to let you know I’m okay and tell you that the hit man was a broad. I’m headin’ out now to rent another condo. I’ll call you again after I’m settled in.”
Walker ended the call, positioned his gun so that it felt comfortable, and draped his shirt over it, so no bulge was visible. Then he donned his sunglasses and a cap with an embroidered pineapple on the crown and left the apartment. He found a photo machine two blocks away, had his picture taken—without the cap on—and walked away with a strip of three passport-sized photos. Then he purchased a package of laminating paper and other supplies he’d need to forge the two IDs.
On his way back to Surfland, Walker passed the Oceanside Resort, a large building with a sign at its entrance: Units for Rent. He went in and took the only apartment they had available, a two-bedroom condo with a full ocean view, registering as Fred Harding.
Once he moved all his belongings into the Oceanside, Walker set about converting the IDs. He was diligent in making the two pieces of identification look real, and despite Fred’s license being old-style with no holograms or fancy watermarks it still took him a few hours to get them done. By the time he had completed both it had already become evening, so he called Junior again before it got too late back East.
“Where are you now?” Junior asked.
“I’m in the new condo watching the Pacific Ocean reflect the moon. You should come here sometime; you’d like it. I’ve got a two bedroom so if you wanna come now I can put you up. I am getting hungry though, so I’m gonna go out and grab some food when we hang up. There are some decent kitchens around here.”
Junior laughed, “What do you know about good food? You’re like a human billy goat, man, you eat anything.”
Walker laughed back. “Can’t argue with that, Junior. But I gotta keep my figure, and this place has some tasty things I’ve never had before. You ever had mahi-mahi tacos?”
Junior responded, “Can’t say that I have. But personally, they sound disgusting.”
Walker disagreed. “They’re not. Your loss.”
Walker looked at the time on his cell phone. “Hey, gotta get going before everything’s closed. Places don’t stay open late like in New York. I’ll ring you again soon. Maybe tomorrow.”
When the call ended, Walker once again stashed the gun in his waistband and made sure his shirt covered it. He put a wad of bills and the doctored driver’s license in one front pocket of his slacks and the Marshal ID in the other. Last, he put on his cap. Even though it was relatively dark outside he had gotten used to wearing it and enjoyed the feel of it on his head. Then he went out to get some dinner.
After he ate two servings of fish tacos at Coconuts, he paid the bill and walked down the stairs to their nearly deserted parking lot. Just as he turned to go toward his apartment, a girl ran into him, thudded against his body, and started pounding on his chest with ineffectual fists, crying out, “Don’t kill me! Please! I don’t wanna die!”
earlier that evening a few streets away
Sarah Franklin stayed so busy doing her homework, texting with her friends, and then checking out their suggestions of a few YouTube channels she hadn’t visited before, that she never changed from her red shorts and pink halter into her pajamas. Looking up from her phone, Sarah’s gaze went to her bedroom window, and she was delighted when she saw that it was dark enough outside to use the telescope that she had asked her parents to get for her sixteenth birthday. She had been disappointed that she couldn’t use it the night before, on her birthday, because rain and clouds filled the sky and made viewing impossible. But on this clear evening whose crescent moon wasn’t bright enough to affect her view, Sarah was eagerly anticipating being able to see Jupiter and Saturn’s rings.
She put her phone down on her nightstand, noticing the digital display change to exactly 9:50 p.m. Then she walked to the window, raised it so that it was fully open, and moved the telescope so that it protruded out of the window and pointed toward the heavens.
As she looked out the window, she noticed the naked bathroom light in their next-door neighbor’s house was shining brightly. Since the bathroom window was directly across from her bedroom with only a small side yard between the houses separating the two rooms, Sarah hoped that either Dave or Doris would turn it off so it wouldn’t interfere with her viewing.
From Sarah’s vantage point she also had a view of Dave and Doris’s front door, and she was glad that the light over it wasn’t also on.
Unfortunately, it didn’t remain off for long. Sarah saw a dark sedan drive up and park in front of Dave and Doris’s house. Then three men got out of the car and walked to their front door. One of the men started loudly rapping on the door, and as he did the light above the entrance came on.
Darn, Sarah thought, that’s going to make it even harder to see the two planets.
When neither Dave nor Doris appeared at the door, the man began banging on it more forcefully, while one of the other men shouted, “Let us in or we’re gonna knock this door down.”
Sarah was starting to get concerned, and a bit scared, but she was transfixed by what was happening. And then a rapid series of events unfolded in Dave and Doris’s house that Sarah witnessed from her window.
The third man, who Sarah could see well enough to determine that he was a large, burly guy, moved in front of the other two and put his shoulder against the door. He leaned into it and when he pushed on the door it gave way, separating from the doorjamb, and cracked open. Once it did, Sarah saw the three men go into the house.
Just after that, Sarah saw Doris enter the bathroom across from her and throw something into the toilet, but before she could flush it, one of the men appeared at the door. He grabbed the back of Doris’s robe and roughly pulled her out of the bathroom, while another of the men went into the room and took whatever Doris had thrown into the toilet out of it. Sarah saw that he was holding a gun in his left hand.
Just before he exited, he looked out the window and stared across the yard.
A chill ran up Sarah’s spine as she realized he had probably seen her watching him. Shit, shit, she thought as she ran to the light switch on her bedroom wall, hoping it wasn’t too late for her room to be dark. Then she crouched down and crept back to the window and peered out over the bottom sill.
She didn’t see anything else but began to hear a lot of loud shouting coming from inside the house and then what sounded like a car backfire, or a gunshot, followed by a piercing scream.
Sarah backed away from the window and ran to her parents’ bedroom.
Sarah had no idea that at that exact moment, as the digital clock on her father’s nightstand flashed 10:00 p.m., her mother, Jean Franklin, removed her panties, the last piece of the clothing she had been wearing, and eased into bed with Sarah’s father, Bob. They were both anticipating a passionate session of affection as they started to embrace and caress each other in the master bedroom of their ranch-style home on the southern end of Kihei in Maui. With the unseasonably torrid heat of the October day gone, their unclothed bodies were touched by a soft, warm breeze blowing through their open bedroom window from the Pacific Ocean a block away.
Before they could become truly intimate, an insistent rapping on their bedroom door diverted their attention from each other, and then they heard Sarah cry out, “Mom. Dad. I have to come in!”
“Honey, we’re busy. Can’t it wait?” Jean responded.
Sarah urgently pleaded through the door, “No, it can’t wait. Please can I come in? It’s important. Really important.”
Realizing that no matter what Sarah wanted, the intimacy he was about to enjoy with his wife was probably gone, Bob said, “All right. Give us a second.”
“Hurry!” Sarah implored them.
Her parents hastily picked up the clothes they had discarded on the floor beside their bed and put them back on their cooling bodies. Once they were mostly dressed, Bob strode to the door. When he opened it, Sarah ran into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. She seemed visibly upset—trembling and shaking to her mother’s eye. “What’s wrong honey? What’s happened that’s so important?”
“I was looking out my window and I saw something next door.” Sarah exclaimed nervously.
“At Doris and Dave’s house?” Bob asked.
“Yes,” Sarah replied with a sound of urgency.
“What’d you see?”
Sarah quickly recounted what she had seen and heard in the greatest detail she could remember.
Thinking for just a moment about what their daughter had said, Bob asked Sarah, “Are you sure this is what you saw and heard? You have a very good imagination, baby. This sounds more like a TV show than something that would happen next door to us.”
Sarah insisted, “Dad, believe me. I’m sure. It happened. Just like I told you and Mom.”
Jean stood up and put her slippers on. “Bob, this doesn’t sound good. Don’t you think we should call 911?”
Bob replied, “I’m not certain the situation is as dire as Sarah is reporting it to be. Why don’t we check on Doris and Dave first?”
“Don’t go there!” Sarah pleaded.
Bob reached for the cell phone next to the clock on his nightstand. “Let’s give them a call and see if Dave or Doris answers. I’m hoping it’s nothing, but we should check to make sure. We shouldn’t be sending the police on a wild goose chase if it’s not as bad as Sarah thinks it is.”
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Four times. On the fifth ring a man’s voice answered, tentatively saying, “Hello?”
Bob asked, “Dave, is that you?”
“Who’s this?”
“It’s Bob. Next door.”
Dave anxiously said, “Bob, I can’t talk now.”
“Dave, is everything all right there?”
Dave unconvincingly said, “Uh, yes.”
Jean leaned into the phone as Bob turned it toward her. “Dave, are you sure? Is Doris okay?”
Bob whispered to Jean, “Tell him Sarah thought she heard screams.”
Jean nodded that she would. “Dave, did you or Doris scream? Sarah said it sounded like there was screaming coming from your house.”
Dave responded, “Jean, I— I— I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have to go.” And then the line went dead.
Bob and Jean looked at each other in concern and confusion.
Jean took the phone from Bob. “I’m calling 911.”
Before she could even press the 9 a loud banging started resounding through their house, coming from their front door. Then they heard a man’s voice shouting through the door, “Let us in or we’ll break this damn door down.”
Bob quickly turned to Sarah. “Do you see the men’s faces, baby?”
Sarah started shaking, “I did, Dad.”
Jean added, “And you think they saw you?”
“I think so. One of the men looked right at my window when he was in the bathroom. I don’t know if he saw me or not, but he might’ve ’cause my light was on.”
Jean continued dialing 911, but before the call was connected the front door burst open. Two large men holding guns pushed into the house and one of them called out, “Sarah, where are you, sweetie?”
Then the other shouted, “Bob and Jean. Where are you?”
Jean began hurriedly describing what was happening to the 911 operator, while Bob reached under the bed and pulled out his gun case. In his haste to open it he fumbled with the lock losing precious seconds in the process.
While he was unlatching the case, he told Sarah, “We’ll be fine. Daddy will take care of this. You go out the back door and wait by the pool for us. We’ll come and get you when it’s over. Go, now!”
Sarah started crying. “I don’t want to leave you.”
Jean stopped talking to the operator and sternly commanded Sarah, “Listen to your father. Go out back and wait for us.”
Sarah reluctantly tiptoed out of the bedroom and dashed out the back door.
Bob got the case unlocked and took out his Glock, muttering, “I wish this was an AR-15. It would be much more effective against multiple intruders.”
As Sarah stood and shook by the pool, she saw all the lights in the house go out, and then five flashes briefly illuminate the inside along with loud sounds, similar to what she heard coming from Dave and Doris’s house. She started toward the door but froze when it opened, and her mother staggered out of it with a growing circle of red spreading through her clothes in the area of her abdomen. Jean gasped, “Run, Sarah, run!” as she fell forward.
Sarah started toward her, but Jean screamed again, “Run! Now!”
Sarah heard footsteps inside the house approaching the back door, and in that instant, she started dashing to the backyard gate, tears flowing freely and her body convulsing in fright.
She got through the gate and ran as fast as she could away from the house but kept looking back to see if any of the men were after her. Just before she turned the first corner toward the ocean, she saw one of the men running through the gate in her direction.
Sarah ran as fast as her legs would take her, heading toward South Kihei Road, where she hoped a policeman would be present.
The man behind her wasn’t gaining on Sarah, but he wasn’t falling further back either and when she reached the main thoroughfare, he was still a block behind her.
She ran into the largely empty parking lot of a strip shopping center, most of whose stores were closed, and momentarily stopped. She looked around to see if there were any police nearby, and when she saw none, she turned to start running again. But she hadn’t noticed that another man was walking toward her, and she ran right into him.
Her first instinct was to lash out, and she started harmlessly pounding her fists on his steel-hard body. “Don’t kill me. Please. I don’t wanna die.”
The man grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “Hold on, kid. I’m not gonna hurt you. You in trouble?”
Sarah looked up at the man who was towering three-quarters-of-a-foot over her, and then pointed at the man with the gun rushing across the lot toward them. “I—I think he shot my mom and dad.”
Before she could say or do anything else, the stranger grabbed her arm and started dragging her toward the back of the parking lot behind the stores. Once they reached that more secluded area, he told her, “I’ll help you. Get behind that trash bin and stay down.”
Still shaking and sobbing, Sarah ran to the dumpster and crouched behind it.
When the chaser with the gun appeared at the edge of the building he was gasping for breath. He looked at Walker and managed to blurt out, “Man, I’m not in shape for this.” Then he scanned the area and asked, “Where is she?”
“What d’ya want with her?” Walker calmly asked.
“Listen, you, funny man in the pineapple cap, it’s none of your business.”
“I’ve made it my business.”
The gunman replied, “Then I’m gonna kill you both, asshole.”
Before he could say another word or raise his gun, Walker reached behind his back and in a lightning-fast move pulled out his gun from the waistband of his pants and shot the gunman through his left eye, killing him instantly.
When the shot rang out, Sarah screamed and didn’t stop screaming until Walker came over to her, picked her up from the ground, hugged her quivering body to his, and said, “Ssh. It’s gonna be okay. That guy’s not gonna hurt you. Not now, not ever.”
After a few seconds, Sarah pulled away from Walker. Still sobbing, she shrieked, “You killed him!”
“I did,” he replied, “to stop him from killing both of us.”
“But you killed him!”
“I did. It was either him that was going to be dead or you and me, and I chose him.”
“There were two others at my house. What about them? And, oh my God! What about my parents?” Then Sarah’s wobbly legs couldn’t hold her up no longer and she collapsed to the ground.
