Chapter Nineteen

They set down where Jacie and Brett had met the FBI the first night of their protective custody in the bunker. It didn’t inspire confidence.

Jacie was impressed with the complete lack of assistance as they left the airport. In an effort to keep their location secure, Kaplan hadn’t arranged for backup. They even had trouble hailing a cab.

Kaplan rapped out an address to the cabbie who protested five people in his car, and protested the part of town they were headed to, but agreed to take them. He drove them to a run-down apartment building.

Jacie and Brett stepped out of the cab. They walked a few feet toward the building.

Jacie muttered, “No one who can afford to pay a hitman lives in this dump.”

Kaplan double-checked the address and asked the cabbie to wait.

The cabdriver agreed, although he insisted on being paid his fare to this point. Kaplan handed over the cash.

The minute they stepped away from the cab, it squealed out and abandoned them.

“I saw that coming,” Brett whispered.

Jacie nodded and walked toward the building.

The men scrambled to keep up with her.

They had to climb six flights of stairs. Jacie was the only one not breathing hard at the top.

Kaplan jogged a few steps to catch up to her. “Please, let me go first.” For a cool, even-tempered, take charge kind of guy, he sounded like he was begging.

She stepped back and let Kaplan and Womack precede her, their guns drawn.

Womack, his voice barely audible, said, “Let us secure the apartment. We’ll signal you when it’s safe to come in.”

Jacie nodded. She felt Brett come up real close behind her and turned to smile at him, only to find herself looking O’Donnell in the eye. She jumped away from him, startled. Then she switched over to annoyance and aimed it at O’Donnell where it belonged. She glanced at Brett. He stood two steps behind O’Donnell, watching with keen, cold-blooded, gunslinger eyes that were shocking in his handsome face.

“Back off, O’Donnell,” Brett hissed. “This is your last warning.”

O’Donnell spared Jacie one malevolent look before he moved with alacrity. Ever the predator. Ever the coward.

Kaplan and Womack had their backs pressed to the wall on either side of a door at the far end of the hallway. Kaplan shouted, “FBI. Open up.” No response.

Kaplan nodded at Womack and Womack kicked the door open and jumped back. There was only silence from the apartment. Kaplan poked his head into the open doorway and jerked back. The two men shook their heads at each other.

“Ready.” Womack pivoted so he stood fully in front of the door. His gun extended straight ahead of him, held in two hands. He stepped even with the door, looked to his right and through the crack to check behind the door, then he disappeared into the room.

Kaplan followed right behind him. The silence stretched in the hall until it seemed like an eternity had passed. A door halfway down the long hall opened a crack and a heavily wrinkled face peeked out.

“You should go back in your apartment, Ma’am,” Brett said. “I wouldn’t want you to be in any unnecessary danger.”

The elderly lady stared at Brett’s polite smile like she was seeing a Martian in her apartment building.

Jacie snarled, “Scram you old bat, before the bullets start flying.”

The white-haired woman didn’t go inside nor did she speak. She just watched.

“Tough neighborhood.” Jacie couldn’t keep the admiration out of her voice.

Kaplan came out of the apartment. “You’d better come in here. All of you.”

There was something in Kaplan’s tone that made the hair stand up on Jacie’s neck.

 

 

 

 

Gouges scarred the wall as if the furniture had been battered against it. Trash scattered everywhere; take-out containers were covered with flies, dirty dishes, old newspapers, balled-up clothing.

Brett caught a darting movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see several rats scurry into a hole in the wall. The last rat turned and looked back, as if he didn’t intend to give up his domain without a fight.

Kaplan led them through a doorway across the small room.

Womack was crouching beside a form collapsed on the bathroom floor. A woman. A dead woman.

Then, a low-pitched moan forced shivers up his spine. She wasn’t dead. His stomach twisted as he tried to imagine how anyone so horribly mangled, could still be alive.

Then his medical training kicked in, and he pushed past Womack. “Let me see what I can do for her.”

He swiveled his head away from the ghastly sight for a second. “Have you called an ambulance.”

“Stu,” Womack hollered.

“On the way.” Kaplan came back in the room, snapping a cell phone shut.

Brett felt for a pulse. It was there, weak, but steady. “We don’t dare to move her. I’d bet anything her neck is broken.”

“She moved her fingers. That was the first sign I had that she was alive.”

“So, no paralysis at least in the hands.” Brett pulled an eyelid open. The woman flinched away from him. She moaned again and began crying, lifting one hand to cover her face. Brett tried to restrain her but she struggled against his grip. She rolled away from the wall and dragged herself across the filthy floor.

Brett let her go. “She’s going to hurt herself if she struggles.”

A commotion in the hall signaled the arrival of paramedics. Brett wondered what influence Kaplan used to get such a quick response.

Jacie went to her side. “Please don’t fight them. Let them help you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

The woman seemed to respond to Jacie’s voice and subsided.

Jacie spoke more softly. “Are you Chita Mendez?”

The woman barely moved her pulverized lips. “Yes. Don’t take me. I have to be here. He’ll kill me. He’ll find me and kill me if I leave.”

“Who, Chita? Who will find you?” Jacie asked.

One of the paramedics said, “You have to move aside, Miss. We need to get her to a hospital immediately.”

Brett grasped Jacie’s shoulder.

Chita started crying. She renewed her struggles against the restraining straps the paramedics had used.

“Give me a second. She’ll hurt herself fighting you.”

Kaplan rested a hand on the EMT’s shoulder. He flashed his badge. “FBI. Give her a few seconds.”

“Chita, who will hurt you? Who did this to you?”
Chita calmed a little at the sound of Jacie’s voice. Jacie kept talking, murmuring comforting words to the mauled woman.

Brett glanced around and saw O’Donnell standing near the farthest wall in the room with his arms crossed, studying the woman and the room with revulsion. He held himself completely still, as if he didn’t want to be contaminated. There wasn’t an ounce of remorse on O’Donnell’s face, even though his actions most likely began what became for Chita a downward spiral.

Brett saw a rat poke his head out of a hole directly behind O’Donnell. It quickly pulled its head back but, a second later, peeked out again. Brett looked from the rat, to O’Donnell’s shining leather shoes, to an overturned box of French fries.

With everyone in the room focusing on Chita, Brett bent down, snagged a fry, broke off a minuscule piece of it and moved to O’Donnell. The bold rat vanished.

“Were you Chita’s first, O’Donnell?” Brett asked. “Are you proud of what you created?”

“I’ve never seen that woman before in my life.” O’Donnell turned his bruised nose up at Brett.

Brett intended to make sending O’Donnell to jail a personal crusade. He inobtrusively dropped the bit of food on the top of O’Donnell’s shoe. He glanced down and saw he’d gotten a good spot. Brett moved away, hoping to enjoy some petty revenge.

Jacie was still trying to soothe Chita Mendez. “Who did this to you, Chita? Tell me and let me keep you safe from him.”
Chita calmed enough the paramedics could work on her. They started an IV and injected something into the tube that carried the dripping saline solution into their patient—Brett hoped they’d given her a sedative.

“Destroyer. He calls himself the Destroyer. He likes to...”

“Do you know where we can find him? We can arrest him and he’ll never be able to hurt you again.”

Chita started struggling again.

“We have to get her to the ambulance,” the paramedic, gently but firmly moved Jacie aside. “We can stabilize her better there. If you want to talk to her, follow us to the hospital.”

“Don’t take me,” Chita begged. “He’ll come back. He’ll kill me if I leave him.”

“No, we’ll keep him away from you, Chita. We won’t let him come near you again.”

“No, please not that.” Chita started crying, loud screaming sobs. “Don’t.”

“Yes, Chita, don’t you understand? You’re safe now. You’ll never have to see him again.”

Brett thought of the way the hitman had sneaked past so much security and knew Jacie was lying. None of them were safe.

Through the agonized, keening tears, Chita said, “I...I don’t want to be away from him. I love him.”

The sedative must have started to work. Chita subsided against the gurney and her eyes drifted shut. She said with a thick, slurred voice, “I love him. Don’t take me. He’ll kill me. I love him.”

As if she were an arthritic old woman, Jacie straightened. Brett saw her stricken expression. The gurney rolled out of the room and, as it disappeared around the corner into the hall, Jacie turned to Brett. He didn’t like what he saw in her eyes.

“She loves him,” Jacie whispered.

Brett put his arm around her and tears of relief burned in his eyes when she leaned against him.

“He did that to her, and she still loves him.”

Brett slid his hand into her hair and pulled her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“The world is a sick place, Brett.” She choked over the next words.

“Not the world, Jace,” Brett rocked her gently in his arms. “God made a beautiful world. But there is evil in it.”

“I can’t see God in any of this, Brett. It’s like we left Him behind when we ran into this madness.”

“No, we didn’t,” Brett tipped her chin up so she looked at him. “He’s been with us. You might act mean, Jacie, but you’ve got a good heart.” He pushed her short, blonde hair off her forehead, smoothing it back.

“You’re petting me again,” Jacie grumbled.

“Do you mind?” Brett asked.

Jacie studied him, her cheeks soaked with tears, her eyes shining with trust. At that moment in this sordid place, Brett felt like the luckiest man in the universe.

She seemed to gather her wits. Her eyes flashed with temper. Good. He always rooted for her spunk.

“When we get this guy, I want two minutes with him, Brett.” She jabbed two raised fingers in his face, forming a V. “And then I want two minutes alone with O’Donnell.”

Womack, Kaplan, Jacie and Brett all turned to O’Donnell. There were only the five of them left in the apartment.

O’Donnell sneered at them and opened his mouth to say something Brett knew was guaranteed to be stupid. Before he could sink himself any deeper, his eyes widened and he screamed. He leaped two feet off the floor and started jumping and screaming. Kaplan started toward him.

“Leave him, Kaplan.” Brett used a voice he’d forgotten about. Kaplan turned toward him.

O’Donnell kept leaping and screaming and started punching his thigh with one hand and tearing at his belt buckle with the other.

“A rat just ran up his pant leg,” Brett said.

Kaplan turned toward O’Donnell. Womack started to choke until Brett went and pounded him on the back.

“Poor rat,” Jacie sniffed. She turned and marched out of the room.

Brett followed right behind her.

He heard Kaplan say, “As soon as you’re done there, O’Donnell, let’s go.”

Womack spoke with melodramatic dread aimed right at O’Donnell, “The Destroyer will probably be back any minute.”

O’Donnell’s screams intensified. Brett glanced back to see him shoving his pants off.

 

 

The Destroyer eased back into the shadows of the alley. Chita—they were taking her! He watched as they lifted her into an ambulance and slammed the door. He saw the flashing lights and sirens switch on, and stood frozen as he lost what was most precious to him in the world.

He couldn’t decide what to do. He heard the beginning of the voices that plagued him and slapped his hand over his mouth. The noise stopped. He was still immobilized by indecision when he saw Garrison and Moreau. O’Donnell came out of the building next.

It all came together. They were here to protect O’Donnell, while he hurt Chita, yet again.

All the enemies in The Destroyer’s world gathered around to take his woman. A police car pulled up, then a second one. The Destroyer’s quarry climbed in and were chauffeured away. The Destroyer followed. He wasn’t worried about losing them, because he was connected.

It was time for the final battle. He'd already picked the spot.