Cruel Justice (50 page)

Mike’s hands tightened on the wheel. Ben felt the car surge even faster.

They sped past Peoria, watching the other cars pull over onto the shoulder. It would still be several more minutes before they arrived. And there was no telling how long Mitch had been there already.

Ben tried another number. After a second he heard: “Hello?”

“This is Ben. Who’s this, Jami?”

“Close. Joni. Hey, Booker told me you two talked. Thanks for—”

“I don’t have time for this now,” Ben said. “Look, Christina’s in my apartment.”

“I know. You sly fox, you.”

“Do you know if she’s had any visitors?”

“I was on the stairs playing cards about ten minutes ago when some hunky dude went up to your apartment.”

“Tall? Dark hair? Gray eyes?”

“That’s the one.”

Ben winced. Mitch Dryer was there.

“Hey, is something wrong? Do you want me to go over there?”

“No. Definitely do not go over there. Christina is in great danger. I need to get a message to her.” If it’s not already too late.

“Just a sec.” The line was muffled for a moment. “Booker says he’ll go.”

“Booker is at your place now? With your parents?”

“Well …” She coughed. “The rest of the family is at the movies right at the moment. … Anyway, he says he’ll go.”

“I don’t think that’s safe.”

“Look, she’ll be a lot safer with Booker there than she would be alone. What’s the message?”

Ben clenched his teeth. He hated to do this, but she was right. Christina alone wouldn’t stand a chance. “Just tell her that he’s the one. Without tipping the guy off. We don’t want him to go ballistic.” If he hasn’t already. “And tell her to get the kids out of there. And herself.”

“Got it.”

“Remember, don’t tip the man off.”

“Don’t worry. Booker is a master of subtlety.”

“Look, I still don’t think—”

It was too late. The line was dead.

“So what’s the word?” Mike asked.

Ben stared ahead at the highway. “Drive like hell,” he muttered, clutching the dash.

“Y
OU’RE JUST MAKING IT
worse for yourselves,” Mitch shouted through the closed, locked bedroom door. “If I hurt myself getting in there, it’ll be a lot worse for you.”

Christina pushed Abie into the far corner, away from the door.

“Did you hear me?” His voice dripped with contempt. “I have a knife! I’m going to cut you open. I’ll cut you in the gut and slash you apart, bit by bit, so you’ll die slow.”

He paused. Christina waited to hear what venomous threats came next.

“Did you hear me? I’m going to punish you! And I’m going to do the kiddies first! I’ll make you watch.
Do you hear me?”

Abie was terrified. His eyes and nose were running, his limbs were shaking. He clutched at Christina’s waist, and began to make a low murmuring sound: “No, no, no, no, no …” Christina motioned for him to remain quiet.

“Did you hear me? I’m going to rub your nose in their blood, you fucking whore!”

Christina gripped Abie’s shoulder.

“Fine. You asked for it. Here I come.”

Christina held her breath. She heard Mitch cross the room, then, seconds later, she heard the front door buzzer. After a short pause, the buzzer sounded again, even more insistently than before.

“All right,” Mitch whispered through the locked door, “I’m going to see who’s at the door. Remember, I still have the knife. If I hear so much as a peep out of you, he’ll be … a dead ringer!” Mitch laughed hysterically.

Christina bent down and peered through the crack in the door. The gap between the door and the jamb was slightly larger than usual, probably because of the aged and warped wood. She couldn’t see the whole living room, but she could get a narrow view of the front door.

Mitch walked to the door and opened it. Christina was surprised to see a large black teenager standing there.

“Yes?” Mitch said.

“I’s here for Christina,” the boy said. “Where is she?”

Christina held her tongue. She wanted to cry out, but she knew Mitch’s knife was only inches from the boy’s throat.

“Christina? Oh, she isn’t in right now. She went … shopping.”

The strapping teenager peered down with an icy glare. “My Joni told me she’d be here.”

“Your … Joni? Oh—she must be the lass I passed on the stairs. I admire your taste. She’s quite a looker.”

“She’s taken,” he grunted.

“Oh, well, yes. Of course she is.” There was a protracted pause as the two stared down one another. “Well, when Christina returns, I’ll tell her you came by—”

“Isn’t that her purse?”

Through the door, Christina saw the boy push Mitch back and enter the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Uh, no. Actually, that’s … my purse.”

“Yours?” Booker walked to the center of the room. He saw the overturned table, the spilled diaper bag, the phone off the hook. “What—”

Christina saw Mitch lift his knife high into the air. She screamed. Booker whirled around, just an instant too late. Mitch wrapped his arm around Booker’s neck and pulled his head back. The knife plunged into his chest, just beneath the left shoulder. Blood began to ooze out of the wound. A hollow popping noise came out of Booker’s mouth.

Mitch removed the knife. Almost instantaneously, Booker’s body shuddered as if he were going into shock. He dropped to the floor, eyes closed, blood gurgling out of the wound and drenching the hardwood floor.

Mitch stepped on top of Booker’s body. He raised the knife back into the air

“
No!
” Christina shouted. “Help! Someone help!”

Mitch looked toward the closed bedroom door. “You stupid cunt. You’re peeking.” He marched to the locked door. Christina fled to the other side of the room.

“You’ve put this off long enough,” Mitch shouted. “It’s time for you to be punished.” There was a brief pause, then suddenly, the door bowed forward. The splitting of wood sounded like the crackling of thunder. The door gave, but it did not quite break.

Not yet.

Christina knew the door wouldn’t last much longer. She pushed Abie toward the closet.

“We’re going to have to split up,” she said.

“No!” Abie started to wail. “Don’t leave me alone. He’ll kill me! He’ll—”

“Abie, snap out of it!” She grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “We don’t have time for this. I’ll keep that man away from you, but you have to take care of the baby.”

Abie’s eyes were wide. “Me?”

“Yes.” She stood on the lower shelf of the closet and knocked open the panel that led to the roof, her meditation retreat and stargazing sanctuary. “Can you climb up there?”

“I—I think so.”

They were interrupted by another clap of thunder. Mitch crashed against the door. The door was buckling down the middle.

“I can make it,” Abie said. He stepped onto the lower shelf, knocking a pile of books onto the floor.

Christina boosted him as best she could, but she was only five-foot-one herself. Stretching as far as possible, Abie reached into the hole in the roof and pulled himself through.

“Now take Joey.” Christina passed the baby up through the passage, but as soon as he left her arms, he began to cry.

She pulled the mustache pacifier out of her pocket. “Here. Shove this in his mouth. And be very quiet!”

As soon as Abie had the pacifier, she closed the panel, blocking off the passage. She ran back into the bedroom and opened the window.

Not a second too soon. Mitch hit the door running, and this time the aged wood split apart. He pounded the splintered wood a few times with his fist, clearing a passageway.

Christina desperately looked around the room, searching for some kind of weapon. A rattle? A baby-blue blanket? Ben’s CDs? It was hopeless.

And much too late.

“Here I am,” Mitch said as he stepped through the door, knife at the ready. “As promised.”

B
UT WHERE THE HELL
is the boy? Mitch thought as he entered the bedroom. That was the problem with little boys. They were always trying to get away, trying to escape their punishment. But that wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

“Where is he?” Mitch snarled.

That bitch, that whore—Christina, was it?—ran to the opposite side of the bed, her long red hair trailing behind.

Mitch’s mother had had red hair. At least he thought she did. Everything was black in the closet.

Please help me, Mommy. Please!

“I said, where is he?” Mitch leaped onto the bed. “Under here?” Mitch jumped up and down like a madman on a trampoline. If Abie had been under the bed, he’d have been crushed.

“What did you do with my boy?” Mitch bellowed.

“He isn’t here,” Christina said breathlessly. “He’s gone.”

Mitch slowly walked across the bed. “You’re lying again. I saw him. Where could he have gone?”

“Out the window. He climbed down. Just like a little monkey. He’s probably a mile away now.”

Mitch jumped off the bed and ran to the window. Christina quickly scurried to the opposite corner.

He surveyed the distance to the ground. “Not possible. You’re lying.”

“No I’m not. He’s gone.”

“The fall would’ve killed him.”

“He didn’t jump. He … climbed.”

“On what?”

“I … lowered him out the window. With a bedsheet.”

Mitch paused a moment. “Where’s the sheet?”

“He took it with him. He—”

“Shut up, you liar.” Mitch brandished the knife again. “I hate liars. Lying is a sin. Liars have to be punished.”

“But why—”

“It’s not nice to tell lies. It’s not nice to tell secrets. You have to keep the family’s secrets. Otherwise, you have to be punished.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Look, you’re probably not an evil person. You need help. Just put that knife away, and I promise you I’ll—”

“There’s nothing wrong with me!” Mitch screamed. “
You have to be punished!
”

He dove across the bed toward her, knife extended.

Christina jumped to the side, avoiding him by inches. She raced for the door, but he scrambled across the bed and beat her there. He grabbed her arm while running and swung her against the opposite wall.

She hit the wall face-first. Her eyelids fluttered, then she fell to the floor in a heap.

She didn’t get up. She didn’t move.

Mitch kicked her in the side. She appeared to be unconscious. At least.

She would have to die, but first things first. Where the hell was the boy?

Mitch scanned the room. The window was an impossibility. But if not there …?

He noticed the closet door was open.

The boy was in the closet.

How appropriate.

Mitch ran into the closet and pushed away the hanging clothes. “Got you!”

There was no one there. But how was that possible? Where could Abie be? And what about that baby?

He saw the books in a mess on the floor. That was odd. The rest of the apartment seemed very tidy, as if it had recently been cleaned. What could that mean?

And then he heard it. Crying. A baby’s cry. And it was coming from above him. On the roof.

Mitch smiled. He stepped onto the lower shelf and knocked the roof panel out of place. “Olly olly oxen free!”

A
BIE SCREAMED.

“Peek-a-boo!” Mitch thrust his head through the passage. “I see you.”

Clutching Joey in his arms, Abie scrambled to the far side of the eave. Unfortunately, it was less than six feet wide; there was almost nowhere to go.

“You’ve been a bad boy, Abie.”

“I have not!” Tears streamed down Abie’s face. “You’re bad. You told me … bad things.”

“That’s not true, Abie. I loved you.”

“You did not.”

“All I ever wanted was what’s best for you. For us.”

“Then get away from me!”

“Abie … is that any way to talk? Remember what fun we had at Celebration Station? We could’ve had fun like that again. But no, you had to be a bad little boy. A weak, nasty bad little boy.” His teeth locked together. “I bet you wet your bed, too.”

“I do not!”

“And I bet you like to watch your mother when she parades around in her underwear. When she’s … nice to you. I bet you like to touch yourself when no one else is around.”

“Liar!”

“You don’t have to be dirty forever, Abie. It’s not too late. I can … cleanse you.”

“Get away from me!” Abie kicked at Mitch’s hands gripping the opening. “I don’t want anything to do with you. You—you’re sick! That’s what my daddy says. You’re a pervert.”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed to two black slits. “Fine. Then we’ll just proceed to your punishment. Do you want to give me the baby, or do you want it to die in your arms?”

Abie pressed Joey close to him. “Stay away from us! Help!
Help!
”

“Too late,” Mitch murmured. “Here I come.”

Mitch pulled his other arm through the opening, pushed himself up—

Then cried out in pain.

“
Aaaaah
!”

Christina rammed the book into Mitch’s crotch again. Not subtle, but it was all she could come up with on the spur of the moment. The discolored lump on her forehead throbbed. She had been groggy, nearly unconscious, but hearing Abie scream brought her back around. She was functioning, though mostly on impulse power, and she doubted her newfound strength would endure.

Mitch peered down into the closet. “What in the—”

She hit him again. He cried out.

“You goddamn fucking little
bitch
!”

All at once Mitch came tumbling down the closet. He fell on top of Christina, pinning her. His knife spun across the floor.

Christina tried to crawl away. He grabbed her hair and jerked her back.

“I don’t need that to punish you,” he growled.

Christina kicked him in the shin, then reached out with her fingers toward his eyeballs. Mitch jerked his head back, but her nails scratched his cheek. Enraged, he swung his hand around at her head but missed.

“
Help!
” Christina shouted. “
Someone help
—”

Mitch clapped his hand over her mouth. Christina bit him. Mitch howled; she sank her teeth in all the deeper. He wrapped his free hand around her throat. Together, they collided into the wall.