The Darkness Inside Us (A Detective King Suspense Thriller) (A Detective King Novel Book 3) (16 page)

I watch as the first squad car pulls around to the back of the building. The two officers inside immediately move to cover the back entrance. Already, the kitchen staff and the waiting staff are vacating the building through that exit. They’re following through with the orders that we explicitly gave them and I watch happily as it goes off without a hitch. I watch two more officers making their way toward the emergency exit at the south side of the building. The entire south wing of the building is also being escorted out through the only other exit, other than the main entrance. Soon, the entire first unit arrives and I watch as the van pulls up and angles the doors right in front of the entrance. Officers with their weapons drawn move in, pointing their guns at the building, but their eyes are watchful everywhere. At the mouth of the parking lot, two officers flag traffic away from the parking lot, wary of anyone who might be the killer they’re looking for. I know better though, I’ve know that the true killer is in the building and all eyes that I can spare are watching that building like a flock of buzzards peering down upon fresh roadkill.

Taking another deep breath, I kill the Shelby’s engine and slip the keys into my pocket. The sign for everyone to move is me coming in through the front door. That’s when everyone is supposed to spring into action and demand that everyone put their hands on their heads and to stop everything that they’re doing. I let out my long held breath and open the door, feeling the sweltering heat rush in behind me and embrace me. Even in the shade it’s too damn hot to be outside like this. Stepping out and looking at the building, I wish I had a bull horn that I could shout through to the demon, telling it that it’s all over, I’ve won and it’s going to end up going back to hell.

I shut the Shelby’s door and slowly make my way across the parking lot, ready to end this once and for all.

XVIII

Pushing open the foyer doors, I feel the rush of stale, unmolested air conditioning blow over me, forcing the door open for me as the pressure changes. I see our implanted hostess waiting for me at the reception podium and I hope that she can keep her cool for a little while longer. I pass the blue patterned, overstuffed benches for those waiting to be seated along with the local advertising and classified magazine racks. I grip the handle of the second door and pull it open, instantly welcomed by the sounds of Chopin. I look at the officer that I’ve never seen before this moment and give her a shake of my head. Gripping the pistol holstered behind my back, I draw it and look over at the table where the teachers are happily talking with somber voices and in hushed tones.

Raising my gun, I point directly at Debra Connelly, certain that if the demon is here in any one of these people, that it’s her. The five teachers are talking at their table, completely oblivious to my approach. However, all those seated around them have all eyes on me and are cautiously glancing over at the teachers. Reaching down at my belt, I pull off my badge and raise it up into the air next to my gun, not willing to let any one of them miss this so their lawyers can chew my ass off in court after all of this is done.

“Police, hands in the air where I can see them, nobody move a muscle,” I shout at the top of my lungs with the strongest, most authoritative voice that I have. It’s been practiced over and over again from a thousand different arrests through my career and right now, I can feel the history of my training and my career flooding through me. I point my gun at Debra and watch as all of them flinch and jerk with surprise. Everyone who is seated with their backs to me turns and looks at me, making sure that I’m shouting at them and that this isn’t some sort of twisted, strange prank.

The notion that this isn’t real burns away when they all see my gun pointed at Debra and the hostess behind me brandishing her own firearm. Several hands shoot up, and Debra lets out a scream of surprise and horror that I’ve singled out her for this little moment. But everything hits home when everyone seated around them springs to their feet, guns drawn and they all chime in, shouting that they need to remain frozen and that their hands better get into the fucking air if they want to survive this encounter.

That’s the signal for Owens, whose strike team bursts through the swinging doors that lead back to the kitchen. Armed and armored to the toe, the members of unit three storm into the kitchen with their semi-automatic rifles, all of them pointing at a different teacher, emphasizing that this is not a joke, this is not a drill, and that they are all in a very, very tight situation. When all the hands are up and the silence that settles over everything is accented by the soft melodies of Chopin, I clip my badge back onto my belt.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I address them respectfully and appropriately. Most of them are crying now or pissing their pants. “My name is Detective Steven King and as of right now, you are all under arrest. You all have the right to remain silent, which I strongly encourage you to invoke right now as we begin this process. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You each have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you for your defense. If you have understood these rights as I have recited them to you, please answer when your name is called.” I reach behind my back and pull my handcuffs free from their holster and hold them out. “Debra Connelly, do you understand your rights as I have recited them to you?”

She shakes at the sound of her name being called. That must hit home for her since she now realizes that this isn’t a mistake, that we know exactly who they are and that we’ve come with force for them. “Please, there’s been some—” she protests with quivering lips. Her makeup is beginning to run as tears streak her cheeks and her jowls quiver.

“Do you understand your rights?” I shout over her protest. She gives me a terrified nod. That’s good enough for me, that’s good enough for the other officers present and it’s time to move on with her. “Debra Connelly, please, keep your hands in the air and rise from your seat. I am going to place handcuffs on the table between you and me. I want you to approach the handcuffs without touching anyone else. You will put the handcuffs on and wait for further instructions. Do not talk, do not touch anyone, and do not think that we will not use appropriate force to detain you. Do you understand the instructions I have given you?” I ask her as I place the handcuffs on the table designed for two patrons. She nods to me and again, I’m satisfied. “Please stand up and do exactly as I have informed you.”

What follows is simple enough. Debra Connelly does not protest, doesn’t fight it, and doesn’t do anything except silently cry while I point to where she needs to stand. While she stands there, I call out to each and every one of the teachers, giving them the same instructions after I verify that they have heard and understood the rights I’ve stated for them. The last teacher is Jack Halloway who tentatively takes the handcuffs, puts them on tightly and stands next to his fellow teachers. I look at them, confident that one of them has the demon inside of them and that together, the demon has one of four options to escape into. It can’t go back into a dying host, at least I hope not, that just wouldn’t make sense.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your cooperation,” I tell them forcefully. “Now, you will file out of the building without touching any of the officers along the way. If you try to run, you will be shot. File into the van waiting outside the doors and seat yourselves wherever you would like. You are not to do anything other than breathe, cry, or think. Do not talk to one another. Do you understand me?”

They all nod at me and stare down at the floor. I’m satisfied with this. The members of unit one have wedged open the doors for the foyer and the exterior and there should be no one near any of the suspects while we escort them to the van. I give the gesture for Debra Connelly to start moving and she obediently does exactly what I tell her. I’m looking at five terrified individuals here and I know that it’s going to be a PR nightmare when they’re released, and when they are, Mendez isn’t going to have the killer, nothing’s going to happen except one of his detectives is going to kill an unarmed prisoner who was wrongfully arrested. This is all going to end badly, but I know that it’s what needs to be done and I’m willing to take the fall for it.

We all watch with our guns drawn as the teachers do exactly as we have commanded of them. They file out through the doors one by one and climb into the van, seating themselves next to each other, and I realize that everyone inside of the van is probably now susceptible to being infected with the demon right now. Any one of them could be a suicide case. One or all of them is probably going to try and kill themselves whenever they get the chance to. The wall between the passengers and the driver has no holes in it and I have given the driver clear instructions that he’s not going to touch, talk, or do anything with the prisoners.

I’d tried to think of a failsafe where I could just blow up the whole van, killing every one of the teachers just in case, but I didn’t think I could get away with that any more than I am going to get away with shooting one of them at the precinct. I watch as Owens personally closes the doors to the van and not a single one of the teachers tries to touch him. None of them even bothers to raise their head to look at him. They don’t look like they’re possessed by demons, but I know that one of them has to be. I watch the door close, my eyes on Debra Connelly as she vanishes from my view.

“Alright, everyone,” I shout to them. “I want you all back at the precinct for the unloading. Remember, hands off of them. If they come at you, put them down. I want no mistakes and I want to make sure that the killer doesn’t get an opportunity. It’ll take over an hour to get back, so let’s get moving.”

I briskly walk towards the Shelby, passing the SWAT van that Owens got ahold of in order to make sure that the operation had heavy enough equipment to make the killer and teachers understand how vital it is that they take everything that’s happening seriously. The last thing any of us wanted was them protesting their rights or putting up a struggle. Having left the Shelby unlocked, I drop down into the driver’s seat and start the engine. Already, patrol cars are pulling out of the parking lot and heading for the main street.

Traffic is a nightmare and already I start to panic, thinking that we’re not going to make it back in time before that thing starts possessing teacher after teacher and killing itself over and over before I once again have a nightmare on my hands. Honestly, that’s the demon’s only play right now. If it wants to throw me off my game, then it should start letting its victims terminate themselves so that when those doors open and I get to see a bloody mess, everyone points their fingers at me and I’m left holding the bag and a ton of questions that need to be answered. Really, that’s its only play. Unless it thinks it can still beat me at this game and is simply toying with me.

Grabbing my phone, I call Lola just to make sure that everything is in order. I want all of this to run as smoothly at the precinct as it did at the diner. I listen as the phone rings several times and when I finally get Lola, she sounds like she’s out of breath. “Steven, how did everything go?” she asks me. Before I can answer she cuts me off. “Hold on,” she says frantically as I listen to her washing her hands and running them under the blow dryer in the precinct’s bathrooms. I impatiently wait, held prisoner by her on the phone until she’s ready. “Okay, Steven, let me have it.”

“It went off fine,” I tell her honestly. “Whatever this thing’s plan is, it’s not willing to reveal itself yet. It must be holding out for someone to slip up and touch them. So I need to make sure that everyone is out of the way for transportation to lock-up. Did you get the cell manager to free up the entire first floor?”

“I did.” I hear something that sounds distinctly like spitting. “He wants to know how many prisoners you’re going to have.”

I can’t believe I didn’t get that to her already. I shake my head at myself, frustrated that I hadn’t been more conscious of what’s happening after I arrest the suspects. “Tell him that we need five cells and that I don’t want anyone around. I need privacy for what comes next,” I tell her. Lola already knows exactly what I’m intending on doing and even though she doesn’t like it, she understands why I need to do it. I glance into the rearview mirror, catching sight of the van, knowing that it’s right behind me.

“He can do that for us,” she says to me. “Steven, how are you going to get this thing to reveal itself to you? You can’t just torture five teachers. It might just let them suffer.”

“I’m working on that, Lola,” I tell her. I wish she would come up with something to do rather than shooting holes in the very flimsy plan that I do have. “Lola, I need a DNA testing kit in lock-up too when I finally get there. I want you to leave it there so I can trick the demon into thinking that I know something it doesn’t.”

“Okay, but why a DNA kit?” Lola presses.

It’s right then that I wonder why I didn’t make a move on Lola. Other than the fact that she’s related to Owens, I don’t know why I never actually tried to put the moves on her. I went to a topless bar where they served terrible, disgusting tacos and had worthless tits when I should have been trying to get Lola into bed. She’s the right age, she has a great, flirty personality, and she knows how to wear clothes to make her body scream for attention. I wonder why I never tried to get with her. I look ahead at the wall of traffic and think about her, imagining what it would be like to pull that white, button up shirt off of her, yank down that oh so inappropriate plaid skirt, slide off those knee-high socks that she wore like a schoolgirl. I think about how much fun it would have been to fuck her from behind, grabbing those ponytails while she moaned and screamed for more. I think about her nipples and how they wouldn’t have disappointed me. They were probably perky and stand at attention whenever they want to be noticed. Why didn’t I try for her? She was beautiful and there was no denying that she had a quirky personality that might accommodate for my age. She might find an interest in me. And there was always that hug that we shared when I came back for her. She had jumped up and embraced me without hesitating and that had been something that I hadn’t experienced in a very, very long time. God, I should have given it a go. If everything goes as I have planned for the evening, then I’m not going to get another chance to fuck her, to kiss her, to maybe fall for her. I shake my head. These are the regrets of a madman.

“Just make sure it’s there,” I tell her. “Lola, I want you out of the precinct after you leave that kit there. I want you to get in your car and drive away. I’ll have Owens call you when it’s finally safe for you to come back. If I’m wrong about all of this, then I don’t want you getting caught by this thing. You’re the only other person who knows about this.”

“Steven, you’re scaring me,” Lola says cautiously.

I think about how this all started with a Lola and now it was going to end with a Lola being the only sane, free person who knows the truth. Even if Kelly believes me and does think that there’s a demon out there hunting her, she won’t have the proof that Lola has. She didn’t see the thing with her very own eyes and she didn’t watch it move from person to person. Lola has that. Lola is the one who will be carrying the torch from now on. I hope she gets the footage to someone who will know what to do with it. I hope she has better luck with this information than I did.

“Don’t be scared, Lola,” I tell her. “Everything is going to be fine. This will probably be the last time we speak. At least until after I’m tried and convicted of murder. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”