Distant memory, p.14
Distant Memory, page 14
Nick was back on his feet and plowing forward. The gunman quickly raised the weapon and fired. A splatter of blood filled the air and Nick screamed, tumbling forward. Lisa rolled on her back as the assassin lumbered to his feet. He hopped on one leg while holding the other, the one she had hit, a few inches off the floor. Lisa struck again. This time she kicked at the man’s good leg, striking him hard in the ankle. Her thick-soled Nike shoes dug into his flesh. She felt his foot slide to the side, and the man fell again.
He began screaming obscenities, but she took no time to notice. Despite the searing hot pain that ignited every nerve, she struggled to her feet. The man started to raise the gun, but Lisa was kicking again, using all her weight. Her fury was fueled by the knowledge that he had tried to kill her once and was now trying again. Raising her right foot as high as she felt she had time, she thrust her leg forward. The obscenities stopped when her shoe caught the man on the bridge of the nose. She heard a snap followed by a scream of pain. Don’t stop until you’re sure you’re safe, a voice said in her mind. She didn’t recognize the voice, but she recognized the truth of the statement. How many women had been harmed because they didn’t seize the opportunity to strike?
She kicked again and again. One blow impacted the gunman’s hand, sending the weapon bouncing across the carpeted floor. Another landed on the man’s upheld arm. Still another caught him on the side of the head. The screams stopped. Lisa kept kicking. Tears of fury flowed from her eyes.
The man stopped moving.
“That’s enough!” Nick said. “Help me, quick.”
His words snapped her attention back to him. She turned to face Nick, who was seated on the floor. Blood oozed from his left arm. “You’ve been hit.”
“I think it just grazed me, but it’s bleeding pretty good. At least I’m not him. Remind me to never make you mad.”
She looked back at the unconscious attacker. He groaned softly and rocked from side to side. Lisa had no idea how she had known what to do.
“Come on, Lisa,” Nick said. “He’s going to wake up and be very unhappy. Get the gun and let’s get out of here.”
“Let’s just tie him up,” she suggested.
“No,” Nick responded forcibly. “He may not be alone. We can’t wait around for any pals he may have to come looking for him. Now get the gun and help me up. I think I busted my knee when I fell.”
Lisa raced to the weapon, then, despite her own piercing pain, helped Nick to his feet. He hobbled, unable to put his full weight on his right leg.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Into the garage.”
“But the truck is down the street and—”
“I have a car in the garage. We’ll take it. You’re going to have to drive.”
Lisa nodded and moved to the door that joined the garage with the house. As she took hold of the doorknob it occurred to her that the attacker must have come in this way. Swinging the door open, she stepped through, the gun aimed before her. Her eyes swept the wide-open space of the garage, the gun in her hand aiming everywhere her eyes looked. She saw a silver Gallant parked in the middle of the floor.
“Get in the car,” Nick said loudly.
“No,” she replied. “You get in first. I have to open the garage door.”
“You can open it from inside the car. There’s a remote control on the visor.”
Lisa heard a loud moan behind them. A hot stream of cursing followed the guttural groan. The attacker had come to. Lisa stepped aside to let Nick pass through the doorway and then turned to shut the door. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the assassin’s bulk charging at her. Like Nick, he was limping badly, but he still came forward like a locomotive. “Move!” Lisa shouted. Nick hobbled out of the way, and Lisa slammed the door hard against the jamb. The house shook with the force of it. Then it shook again as the attacker hit the door. Lisa reached for the lock before she realized her mistake. The lock was on the other side of the door. He could lock her out, but she could not lock him in.
Leaning against the door with all her weight, she struggled to keep the man at bay. There was no way, she knew, that she would make it to the car, open the door, get inside, start the engine, and back out of the garage. Pain rifled through her once again as the large man threw his weight into the door. The jamb vibrated with the impact. She felt like she was holding back a charging buffalo.
“Hold on,” Nick shouted as he staggered back to her.
“I can’t hold him any longer,” Lisa lamented.
“Give me the gun and hold him for a couple more seconds.”
She released the weapon, and Nick limped back to the passenger side of the car, opened the door, got in and then leaned out, pointing the pistol at Lisa’s position.
“Now!” he shouted.
Lisa scampered away from the door and into the car as fast as she - could. “The keys!” she screamed frantically.
“In the ignition. I left them in the ignition.”
The door to the garage exploded open, and the attacker bowled his way in. The doorjamb next to him exploded into splinters as Nick fired a round at the man’s head. Instinctively, the man ducked back into the house. Nick fired another shot as Lisa started the car. The engine roared to life.
They were still trapped inside. “The visor. The door opener is on the visor. Left button.” Lisa pressed it and the door behind her began its slow rise.
“Come on, come on,” Lisa encouraged the door.
“I should have killed that guy when I had a chance,” Nick said through clenched teeth.
Inch by agonizing inch the door rose in slow motion. Nick closed his door, resting the gun in his lap. A loud, fierce shriek pierced the darkening evening. Just as Lisa slammed the gearshift into reverse, the attacker reemerged from the house, careening toward the car. The tires of the car screeched as she mashed the accelerator to the floorboard.
There was a thud. The attacker landed on the hood of the car, digging his fingers into the gap between the windshield and the sheet metal hood. There was no doubt that this madman would hold on until he figured a way to get inside. It was irrational, but the expression on his face said that reason had left him a long time ago.
Nick rolled down his window and stuck the gun out, trying to bring the barrel to bear on the madman clinging to the hood.
“No, wait,” Lisa said. As the car plunged into the street, she cranked the wheel hard to the left, sending the front of the car sliding to the right. The man’s inertia caused him to slip along the hood, his fingers failing and his nails leaving long scratches in the paint. He flew sideways into the street. The jerk also caused Nick to lose his grip on the pistol.
“The gun!” Nick shouted as it slipped from his fingers.
Slamming the gearshift into drive, Lisa again pressed the accelerator to the floor. Looking in the rearview mirror, she saw the attacker rise to his feet and wave an angry fist at them. Then she saw something that caused her thundering heart to race all the more. A dark sedan pulled up as the would-be killer scrambled for the small pistol that had slipped from Nick’s fingers and lay on the asphalt.
“You were right,” Lisa said. “He wasn’t alone.”
“I hope you are as good behind the wheel as you were in the house. Where did you learn that stuff?”
“I have no idea.”
CHAPTER 12
Tuesday, 6:30 P.M.
Massey pulled from the curb and quickly drove to where the agitated McCullers stood shaking his fist in the air and yelling obscenities. McCullers was in the middle of the street, forcing Massey to pull into the oncoming lane and stop so the passenger door was next to McCullers. He lowered the automatic window.
“Get in!” he shouted. “Get in, now!” McCullers complied, grimacing as he did. He was in pain.
“I’ll kill those—”
“That’s what you were supposed to do when you went in there,” Massey said as he pulled off slowly down the street. “It was a three-minute job: in, kill, leave. That’s it. But you screwed that up.”
“Hey, you weren’t there. You don’t know what happened.” McCullers shouted back. “They jumped me. But I’ll get them, and I’ll make them pay in the most painful way.”
“You weren’t hired to be a sadist. You were hired to kill a woman. That should have been done in the simplest, most direct way. But you can’t do things that way. You have to have fun in the process. Well, your fun is driving away, and our work is not yet finished.” The houses faded behind them and gave way to a short, isolated stretch of road. Massey remembered it from the drive in.
“Shut up and step on it, they’re getting away.”
Massey pulled to the side and stopped the car.
“Hey, what are you doing? Didn’t you hear me? They’re getting away.”
Massey took a deep breath, then sighed loudly. He backhanded McCullers across the face, striking his already swollen nose. The man screamed in pain, then pulled his right hand back, ready to bury his fist in Massey’s face. He stopped when he felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed hard into his cheek. “What … what are you doing?” he shouted.
“Give me the gun and get out.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Give me the gun and get out. Now!” Massey’s voice had turned hard and cold. He cocked the hammer back on the nine millimeter.
“You gave me your gun,” McCullers said with confusion.
“That’s the difference between us, McCullers, aside from my being a rational man and your being a buffoon, I mean. You assume everything will go your way and that your plans will never fail. I assume just the opposite. Consequently, I’m prepared. Do you think I would give you my only gun and leave myself unarmed, especially after our little incident with the family in the van? I imagine you have a bone to pick with me over that.”
“You sucker-punched me.”
“Get out.”
“Your boss ain’t gonna like you letting the woman get away.”
Massey pushed the gun another inch closer to McCullers’s eye.
“Okay, okay, I’m getting out.”
McCullers opened his door and slipped out. “We can talk about this.”
The gun’s report echoed down the street. Massey reholstered his weapon and then set the PT111 in the glove compartment. He sped away, the open door of the car slamming shut from the sudden acceleration. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw the still form of McCullers lying in a heap in the weeds that lined the road. For a brief moment, the image of the bullet impacting the center of the man’s chest and yielding an ever-widening circle of blood flashed across his mind. It brought no remorse. It had been a long time since he had done anything like that. It almost felt good.
“Idiot,” he said with disgust. A quarter-mile down the street, he pulled over again, reached into the backseat, and removed the yet unopened briefcase, the one in which the extra gun had been concealed. He removed a white plastic box with a four-inch-square screen in the middle. He switched on the electronic device. The green screen came to life. A series of buttons lined the left and right sides of the display. He entered some commands. A second later a map appeared on the monitor in yellow-green lines. A small triangle moved along one of the streets. The GPS tracking system was working perfectly. Because he’d had the foresight to order McCullers to plant the tracer on the car, he knew exactly where she was and what direction she was going.
“It’s time we put an end to this nonsense,” he said aloud as he pulled back onto the street and began his leisurely pursuit.
“Are they following?” Nick asked.
“No,” Lisa answered softly. She looked in the mirror again. “You were right; he wasn’t alone. A car pulled up to our friend right after we left. The man got in and started to follow. I thought they were going to chase us, but then he pulled off.”
“Maybe the man is too injured to give chase.” Nick leaned forward and rubbed his leg.
“Maybe.” That couldn’t be right. Something else was going on. Her subconscious screamed warnings, but she couldn’t understand the message. She did, however, understand the intent. “How’s the leg?”
“The pain has let up some, but it’s swelling.”
“And the arm?”
He opened his shirt and pulled it down to reveal a long gash just below the shoulder. Lisa suppressed a shudder.
“The bleeding has stopped. It just grazed me. I can’t tell you how much it hurts.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“How about you?” Nick asked
“I feel like I’ve been through the accident all over again. My side burns, my head hurts … everything hurts.”
“I imagine we’ll be feeling a lot more pain when the adrenaline stops.”
“Let’s talk about something else—like what do we do now?”
“Did you get a good look at the car or the driver?” Nick asked.
“It’s too dark to see much. I didn’t see the driver at all. All I saw of the car was that it was a dark sedan.”
“That’s not much help. That could describe several thousand cars in the area.”
“Actually, I think we may be overlooking a bigger problem,” Lisa said. Her mind was racing, analyzing. It was as if someone had thrown a switch in her brain, releasing a thousand watts of mental energy.
“I don’t need any more bad news.”
“It may be coming anyway,” Lisa said. “How did they find us?”
Nick stared out the window. “I was wondering that myself. It’s not like I hung a sign on the front door. And what did that guy want?”
“To kill me,” Lisa said. She swallowed hard. Saying the words had been easy; hearing herself saying them was painful.
“But why?”
“Two attempts in less than twenty-four hours. I must have made someone mad. I’m so sorry to have gotten you involved.”
“It was my own doing. We need to find a place to regroup. Maybe get some help.”
“No police,” Lisa said. “I don’t know why, but my gut says that’s a bad idea.” Nick didn’t object. “I need to get you to a hospital,” she said.
“Not if you want to avoid the police,” Nick replied. “All gunshot wounds have to be reported. One look at my arm, and some doctor or nurse will be picking up the phone.”
“I could drop you off,” she suggested. “That way—”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Nick stated flatly. “Not until this is over.”
“I don’t need a protector.”
Nick laughed. “I think you do.”
Lisa knew he was right. If it hadn’t been for Nick’s heroics, she would be dead on the floor of his living room. A thought struck her: “Your license-plate number. Could they have traced that? You left the number at the motel, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but that wouldn’t work,” Nick explained. “I work out of my home, but the truck is registered to a different address. I’m a little paranoid about strangers knowing where I live.”
“Then how did they find us?”
“Turn right up here,” Nick said. “That will put us back on the 101. Let’s go north. Stay in the right lane. We’ll come to Highway 150 in a few miles. That will take us back into the San Ynez Mountains. There are a few small towns up there. If we’re not being followed, we might find a place to hide out and get our thoughts together.”
“Okay.” Careful of her speed, Lisa drove the car north as Nick directed, glancing in the rearview mirror every few seconds. No one followed them. As she drove, she struggled to bring things into focus. Flapping in her overactive mind was her emotional response to the sight of the rocket launch at Vandenberg, the car crash, the enigmatic Nick, the assault she had just endured, her loss of memory, the ever-present sense of dread.
Highway 150 was an uneven, sinuous affair that demanded all her attention. Groves of oak trees stood sentinel along the road, and thick foliage covered the ground. Quaint houses dotted the hillsides. If she hadn’t been running for her life, the scene would have been beautiful.
Now it was foreboding. What lay behind the trees? Who was hidden in the bushes? What eyes watched as she drove along? What would happen next? Would she survive another encounter?
“Stop,” Hobbs ordered suddenly. He and Tanner had signed out an unmarked highway patrol car and were driving down the frontage road that led to the short row of houses that lined the ocean. “I saw something. Back up.”
“What did you see?”
“On the left, about ten yards back. I think it was a body.” The evening had quickly metamorphosed into night, the sun finally dropping below the horizon. The only light available came from the car’s headlights and the sparse street lamps that cast down an eerie, amber glow.
Tanner quickly pulled a tight U-turn and drove back. Hobbs lowered his window and stared at the passing road. A narrow, weed-filled planter strip separated the street from a chain-link fence. The fence in turn divided the road from the short slope that led up to the freeway.
“There,” Hobbs said, pointing. “It’s a body all right.”
Tanner pulled the car to a stop. As Hobbs stepped from the vehicle, Tanner pulled a beacon from the car and set it on the roof. Pulsating splashes of red light filled the area. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”
“No need,” Hobbs said. Using the car’s spotlight, he had checked out the body. It was that of a middle-aged white male. The body was slumped against the weeds close to the fence. The man’s eyes were open but no longer seeing. His shirt was stained a dark rust color. “He’s dead. Place a call to dispatch and ask the locals to send out a homicide team.”
After Tanner radioed in the report, he joined Hobbs, who stood staring down at the lifeless man. “You know …” he trailed off. “This is the guy. At least one of the guys who impersonated the cops back in Mojave.” Hobbs stepped to the car and removed the folder he had been carrying throughout the investigation. Removing one of the photos that had been captured from the Pretty Penny Motel security video, he showed it to Tanner. “Does this look like the same guy to you?”
