Page 42 of A Song for the Dead

Running, Jenna led the way along the back of the house and stood to one side as Kane turned the handle to the back door. It turned with ease and they drew their weapons and slid inside. Thumping sounds came from along the passageway. The intruder hadn’t made it inside the bedroom yet. Moments later, Carter came through the front door and met them in the family room. The next moment wood splintered and terrified screams shattered the silence. Heart in her mouth, Jenna ran toward Wendy’s bedroom, and raised her voice. “Sheriff’s office. Drop your weapon.”

The door to the bedroom hung in jagged pieces. Jenna moved forward, her back to the wall, and peered inside as a naked man wearing a Halloween mask dragged Wendy by her hair screaming and fighting from the closet with one hand. In the other he brandished a hunting knife. Behind Jenna, Kane took the high position and Carter ran past the door and took the other side. Without hesitation, Jenna pointed her M18 pistol at the intruder. “I said put down your weapon. I will not hesitate to shoot. Put down your weapon.”

“You don’t understand.” The masked man pulled Wendy in front of him, one arm wrapped around her chest and a glistening hunting blade at her throat. “She must die, so I can live.”

“No one is dying today.” Kane eased inside the room and pushed the bed away with one foot, his gun never moving from the intruder. “Let’s talk about this. Wendy is our friend, so we’ll use deadly force to save her. You know that, right?”

You can’t negotiate with a psychopath.Confused, Jenna stared at Kane. It was their mantra, so why was he employing a useless tactic? Panic gripped her and she sucked in a breath as the knife pricked Wendy’s stretched neck and a trickle of crimson welled up and spilled over the collar of her robe. Behind her, Carter had his weapon aimed and his back against the wall. They were at an impasse: shoot and Wendy would die; do nothing and Wendy would die.

“You can’t kill me.” The man pressed the knife harder and Wendy whimpered. “I have another nine years.”

“The goddess wouldn’t want this one.” Kane shrugged. “You know the rules. The offering must be fresh from the shower.”

Jenna’s trust in Kane surged. He was using the man’s MO against him. This guy only killed women fresh out of the shower. Stomach churning, she kept her aim steady and waited.

The eyes in the mask blinked and stared at Kane as if trying to look right through him.

“You can’t know that. How can you?” The man shook his head as if to dispel a thought. “The goddess only speaks to me.”

“Well, then we have a problem.” Kane shrugged nonchalantly. “You see, I happen to know unless the offering is bathed before the sacrifice, she takes it as an insult.” He smiled. “She’ll remove all those years you’ve accrued. Make a mistake now and you might not see another sunrise.”

“I don’t care.” The man gripped Wendy so tight, she was gasping for breath. “She deserves to die.”

Wanting this to end now, Jenna stepped over the broken wood and moved into the room. She could play this game and stared at the hideous face. “Put down the knife. The night’s still young. We’ll take you back to the office and charge you with a break-in, is all. You’ll walk on bail and still have plenty of time to find someone else. We only care about Wendy.”

“Oh, do you now?” The man chuckled. “Too bad, huh?”

The knife in the man’s hand slipped a couple of inches, and Kane moved so slowly to her side, she only sensed him there. Fire now or move forward to disarm him was out of the question. He’d slice so deep, Wendy would die in front of them. When the man lifted the knife from her throat and used the flat of the blade to caress Wendy’s cheek, her terrified eyes swiveled to Jenna, pleading for her to do something, but there was nothing she could do to save her.

FORTY-NINE

Desperate to save Wendy, she glanced at Kane and they exchanged a meaningful glance. After years of working together, she didn’t need to spell it out for him. When he gave her a barely perceivable nod, Jenna sent up a prayer to keep Wendy safe. The next few seconds could mean life or death.

“I’ll cut her up piece by piece just because she’s a friend of yours.” The man chuckled. “Seeing the fear in your eyes as I take away little slices would make up for her not being cleansed. Pain and suffering will make up for a little sweat.” His eyes met Jenna, black intense emotionless coals. “What are you gonna do, Sheriff? Shoot me and the girl dies; don’t shoot me and the girl dies. You can’t beat me. I never lose.”

With her arms pinned to her sides, Wendy couldn’t do anything to save herself, but the moment he moved the blade away from her cheek, she slumped forward as if she’d fainted. It was a move Kane had taught the locals during a recent self-defense class. The next instant, a gunshot shattered the silence, followed by screams. On Jenna’s left, Wendy was on her hands and knees, scampering across the carpet toward her. On the floor, the intruder’s streams of abuse cursing Kane to hell, thundered in the small space. He’d dropped the knife and was rolling on the floor cradling a smashed knee. Beside her, Carter scooped up Wendy and carried her outside. Without a second thought, Jenna ran forward and kicked the knife away.

Ignoring the man’s wails of agony, she glanced at Kane and, when he nodded, she grasped the mask and pulled it from the man’s head. “Well, if it isn’t Duane Warner. What’s with being naked? Is it part of the ritual?”

“What would you know?” He fell forward, reaching behind him and drawing a blade. It had been stuck to his back with tape, and the long sticky strands trailed from the hilt.

As he lifted the blade with his cold gaze fixed on Jenna, another shot almost burst her eardrums. She gaped in horror as the man’s hand, still holding the knife, tumbled over and over before dropping into one of Wendy’s slippers. It all happened so fast, as if between two heartbeats. Screaming, Warner was staring at the gushing wound, disbelief etched on his face. Swallowing hard, Jenna looked at Kane’s stern expression. He’d blown off the man’s hand and nearly severed his leg at the knee. She moved forward to give first aid, when Kane stepped in front of her. She glared at him. “Duty of care.”

“Sure, but he’s still dangerous. If you keep your weapon on him, I’ll stem the bleeding.” Kane pulled zip ties from his pocket and kneeled beside Warner. “Don’t try anything stupid. The next one will be between your eyes.” He tapped his comm. “Rowley, call the paramedics to Wendy’s house. We have our man. Get here ASAP.” With swift efficiency, he slid the zip ties around the injured limbs to create a torniquet and then glanced at Jenna. “He was aiming that knife at you. He telegraphed his move. I had no choice. I can’t move as fast as a bullet.”

“You’ve crippled me.” Warner was rocking back and forth wailing and sobbing. “You’ll pay for this.”

Stomach churning, Jenna swallowed hard at the sight of Warner’s injuries. She had him at a disadvantage right now and maybe he’d let slip about where he’d buried Freya and Daisy. “Were you planning on burying Wendy beside Freya and Daisy? You like burying the women in threes. It’s part of the ritual, isn’t it?”

“Argh.” Warner glared at her, cradling his ruined arm. “What would you know about ancient rituals?”

Shrugging, Jenna stared down at him, wondering how he felt now, suffering like his victims. “We know more than you realize. You see, the moment you started killing in threes, we researched all the rituals right back to the pagans. We needed to discover what you thought you hoped to achieve.” She kept her gun pointed at his chest. “I’m interested to know how you decided which woman to kill? You planned everything, so why Freya, Daisy, and Wendy?”

“I have a long list.” Warner swayed as if close to losing consciousness. “I got close to them and they all knew me. I’d ask them out for a cup of coffee or dinner, and if they refused, they made it to the top of the list. They chose themselves.” He gave a slurred chuckle and his head dropped to his chest.

“Hey, wake up.” Kane bent and shook him by the shoulder.

“Argh! I need pain meds. Cops carry morphine, right?” Warner glared at them. “I’m so gonna make you pay for doing this to me.”

---