The American Soldier Collection 3: Amazing Grace (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (35 page)

Grace knew he could get away with it just like he’d planted the evidence in Stew Parker’s house. He’d planted evidence in Donald’s house as well. They would be dead and he would be a free man living two separate lives with her mother Sarah.
Oh my God, Mom.
What would she do when she found out?

“I’m not going to let you get away with this, Eric,” Grace said as she stepped back a little further. Soon there would be nowhere else to move.

“I don’t think so, beautiful. We have a date.” He lunged forward with the ice pick attempting to stab her. She tried to move but she wasn’t quick enough as the ice pick pierced through the skin on her upper arm. She stepped back trying not to fall but she tripped over something. What the hell was that? She asked herself and there was something very large on the ground. In an instant she was on her back scrambling to get to her feet. She was slipping, sliding and she couldn’t grip the floor with her feet or her hands. She looked down and all she could see was red. She screamed. She was horrified as she looked into the eyes of a dead Agent Lancaster. It had to be him. She saw a picture once that Sandman showed her.
Oh, Sandman, Jay, and Duke. You’ll never know who the killer is. Not unless I stop him.

Eric was laughing as he took Grace by the injured arm and she cried with pain. He threw her against the wooden beam in anger then grabbed her by the throat.

“I’m in charge now so listen up. You will speak only when told to. You will do what I say or be punished. I have waited too long for this moment and it will be perfect,” he said to her strongly then kissed her hard on the mouth as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her snugly against him.

Grace bit his lip. He pulled back appearing angry and she spat at him then grabbed his forearms. He didn’t budge as she dug her manicured nails into his flesh, pushing down as hard as she could until her nails bent and broke. He was squeezing her throat now so that she couldn’t swallow or breathe. She didn’t want to die like this. She had accomplished so much on her own. She had abandoned safety with her men to help capture a killer and that was what she was going to do. With all her will and her might she lunged her body forward as she thrust her forehead forward against his chin, surprising him. He loosened his grip on her neck and then she stomped on Eric’s ankle and foot as hard as she could. He let go of her neck and she kneed him in the groin, and then she clocked him in the jaw with a right hook.

She frantically looked around for a weapon. The ice pick lay on the floor and she grabbed it then went running toward the stairs. She didn’t turn back. She could hear him gasping for air. She made it to the kitchen then heard the pounding of footsteps running up the basement stairs behind her. She headed toward the back door running toward the fields. She stopped a moment and thought about getting into Lancaster’s car when she heard the screen door slam open. Eric was coming. He was chasing her. She ran around the side of the house then toward the high grasses. She could lose him in the woods. She knew those woods well. They would lead to the main road then the highway. Maybe she could stop a car for help? Maybe the police were looking for her? She did see that patrol car earlier. They must be in the area. She hoped as she continued to run for her life.

* * * *

Frank and John were trying to get over their initial shock. They were searching for answers, and possible locations Eric could hide. The other agents were informed of the situation and the manhunt was on. They were making the connections to other cases, coming up with timelines of when Eric left on business trips and murders taking place. The evidence was piling up and the other detectives working on Michelle’s murder had a witness who saw her enter Eric’s car. The coroner’s reports were back and indicating that the possible weapon used for the killings was an ice pick. The oil used to blind Jamie was also found on the tape used to cover his other victims’ eyes. Frank explained everything to Peter and he decided he would be the one to tell Sarah. Other agents were sent to Sarah’s house as precaution in case Eric decided to go after his wife as well.

“Where the hell is Lancaster?” Sandman yelled through the chaos in the office. “Hey, Justin, we’ve been looking for you and Lancaster. Where is he?”

“There’s been a break in the case. Sandstone figured out who the killer is,” one of the agents told him, and he practically dropped his ceramic cup of hot coffee.

“It’s Donald, right?” Justin asked.

“No, man, it’s not him. It’s Eric, Grace’s stepfather. We’re trying to find out where he could be hiding. Where’s Agent Lancaster?”

Justin ran to Sandstone and told him about the phone call from Grace.

“Everybody shut up right now!” Sandman yelled out to the chaos of loud voices and people panicking. Everyone in the office stopped talking. Agents held their hands over telephone receivers. Others hung up their phones entirely. Frank and John joined Sandman by Justin and Big Jay and Duke stood at attention.

“Grace called over an hour ago. Lancaster said that Senior Investigator Burbank gave her Lancaster’s number to set up a trap for the killer. She was in a safe place somewhere outside of town,” explained Justin as he filled everyone in on the details.

“That fucking asshole could get our sister killed while he’s trying to play hero agent. What if they’re dead already?” Frank said.

“Let’s stay positive. You said you had an address. Where is it?” Sandstone asked and Justin ran to his office.

“Calm down, Frank. Just because Lancaster and Grace are together it doesn’t mean that Eric knows where they are. John, get together your SWAT team. I want as much manpower as possible to assist if needed,” Sandstone stated.

“Here it is, sir, I wrote it down as Lancaster received it from Grace,” Justin said, handing the piece of paper to Sandstone.

“Where is this place?” Sandman asked Frank and his eyes widened as he looked at the directions.

“It’s a place our family owns. No one’s been there in years. It’s abandoned,” said Frank

“Okay, everyone, this is how it’s going down. I want ten agents to stay here and handle any information that comes through as well as updating me on new information. Call me if you hear from Grace, Donald, Eric, or anyone.” Sandman directed the crowd of people as he gave the orders to the first group of agents.

“You guys get the gear and meet us downstairs in five minutes. We’re going to the house. When we get there, let’s come up on the house slowly. We don’t know if this is a hostage situation or what. John will have his SWAT team go inside first along with some of my agents. No sirens, no info over the radios until we’ve entered the house. Got it?” Sandman asked then headed toward the stairs with Frank, Duke, Big Jay, and the others.

* * * *

Within twenty minutes the SWAT team and FBI agents had the house surrounded. With their guns drawn, Sandman, Frank, and the others followed the SWAT team into the house. They made their way toward the basement where they found Lancaster and Donald.

“He’s dead, Sandman,” said John as he checked Lancaster for a pulse. Now they feared for their sister’s life. Where was she? What happened?

“He’s alive, man!” yelled Frank as he helped Donald sit up against the wall.

“Grace,” Donald whispered. He was having difficulty talking.

“Where is she, Donald?” Frank asked as Sandman and Big Jay kneeled down next to him.

“She ran. The stairs. Eric’s the killer,” he told them.

“We know, Donald. Where would Grace run to?” Duke asked, practically yelling. He was afraid they might be too late.

“Go help her. Eric is chasing her. The fields, the swamp,” said Donald as he began to pass out.

Sandman got to his feet along with Frank.

“You know this area. I don’t. We don’t know how long ago she escaped so we’re going to have to move quickly. Frank and John, you come with me. I want to organize groups to try and cover as much area as quickly as possible. Duke, Big Jay, you get the groups started. Grab whoever knows these woods and we’ll meet up as we case the area, and Frank, John, and I will head out now. Let’s go.”

Everyone ran up the stairs.

* * * *

Grace felt the exhaustion, but she forced herself to continue running.
God, I’m out of shape. I can’t believe Eric is the killer. Fucking Eric killed my sister.

She could hear the rustling of branches and high grasses behind her. Eric was getting closer. He was gaining on her. Grace’s T-shirt was drenched with sweat. Her hands and knees were dirty from numerous falls she took. She wondered if she could escape. As she ran through the muddy terrain, she came upon a small creek about twenty feet wide. She thought if she could get across it, get down the hill, and across the next open area, she would reach the road. If she ran to the right, it would lead to the same location where she found her sister’s body. The thought frightened her, but she couldn’t stop her mind from the crazy, erratic thoughts that were now consuming her brain. The heavy feeling in her chest grew with every breath she took. Had she asked for this? By leaving Sandman, Jay, and Duke, had she asked to become another one of Eric’s victims? The police would know it was him. Sandman and his brothers would track Eric down and kill him. She felt the urge to give in. Give up and die out here, too. Would Eric kill her like he killed Clara?
My mom. My mom would never survive all of this. Clara’s murder, Eric as the killer, and me dead, too.

No one was coming. This was all her fault and she blamed herself for everything. She should have stayed with her men, in their cozy private cabin, lost in their embraces and lovemaking, and now she may never see them again. They would be too late if they even found out the truth. Her brothers would lose another sister and her mom would lose another daughter. The thoughts kept repeating in her mind, pounding away at her will, her determination. She was losing the battle physically and mentally.

Just then she heard her name.

“Grace!”

Someone was calling her and it wasn’t Eric. She ran through the creek, tripping over branches and rocks beneath the water’s surface. Then she fell in the water slamming her knees against the jagged edges of a cluster of rocks. She grabbed the ground through the water, pulling herself up and pushing herself to continue to run. She made it to the hill. It was in front of her now as she dove at it grabbing fistfuls of dirt, scratching, clawing, using all her might to climb it and make it to the road just yards ahead.

She screamed with terror as Eric grabbed ahold of her ankles pulling her back down the hill. Her belly scraped across the dirt. She struggled to hold on, grabbing more dirt, ripping her nails and fingers, feeling the stinging caused by each attempt.

He jumped on top of her tackling her as he rolled her onto her back. He backhanded her once, twice across the mouth, then again with his forearm. This was it. She couldn’t take it anymore. She had dropped the ice pick that now laid only inches away from her.

“Grace!” She heard the voices screaming her name. Frank, John, Sandman, Duke? They were coming. They found her. She scraped together what little strength, momentum, and hatred she had left and threw her body to the side and attempted to grab the ice pick. She would not die, not without a fight. Eric would not be the one to survive.

“Help!” she screamed as loud as she could, feeling the strain, the ache in her throat and voice as she grabbed hold of the pick, striking Eric in the shoulder with it. She let go of the handle as she backed up the hill on her elbows, crying as she watched the hatred fill Eric’s eyes. He pulled the pick from his shoulder yelling like some wild beast and raised it over his head aiming it toward Grace’s heart.

“Time to die,” he said and Grace heard the shots. One, two, three, large bangs rang out as she covered her head and pulled herself into the fetal position for protection as Eric fell to the ground beside her then rolled down the hill.

She was crying now with her hands over her face, lying in the dirt, weak and exhausted.

“Grace, thank God you’re alive.” She heard Sandman’s voice, Frank’s, then John’s. They were at her side as she opened her eyes. All three men were still holding their guns in their hands as Sandman pulled her into their arms. Each of them had saved her life by firing at Eric.

“Jesus, is she okay?”

She heard Duke’s voice and saw him and then Big Jay through blurry eyes. Her three ginormous men had come to her rescue. Her brothers were there, too.

“You’re bleeding, baby, are you all right?” Sandman asked as he gently checked the wound on her arm.

“I’m okay and I’m so glad to see you guys. I love you.”

* * * *

Sarah slowly opened the door to the hospital room where Donald was resting. She had spent the last two days trying to recover from the shock that Eric was a killer. Eric had killed Clara and all those other innocent people. The thrill of killing consumed him. Then there was his involvement in the housing projects in Colton. He didn’t want Donald or the other contributors to succeed. Eric had received election endorsements from some business tycoon that wanted to buy the land and use it for vacation home development. They didn’t want low- income families living on the same property. They wanted it all to remain high class. It was disturbing. Those involved had a lot of questions to answer for the district attorney.