Frozen Past (24 page)

Victoria looked past Jaxon and then moved into the kitchen. Jaxon stayed where he was. Victoria called to him and he finally turned and went into the kitchen. He avoided looking Reverb’s way.

A piece of newspaper was ripped from the main page and scribbled in big black letters were the words, ‘Too Late.’ The asshole used a piece of trash to write on. It was like a slap in the face and Jaxon knew it was meant that way.

“Yeah,” he said, under his breath. “We know we’re too late, you prick.”

Victoria suddenly grabbed his arm. “Oh Shit! Maybe he means we’re too late for the kids!”

Jaxon grabbed his phone and dialed the number. With a sinking feeling and everyone silent around him, the phone rang and rang. He hung it up and pulled the radio off his belt.

“Guardian 1, this is Jaxon, over.”

Silence. “Guardian 1, this is Jaxon, do you copy!”

They ran for the cars.

Chapter 44

Leonard David Worthington drove calmly down the street, reminding himself what is was to be a survivor. The scars he bore from the shotgun blasts were badges of honor he wore proudly.

That old fool had thought he took care of him, but he had been sorely mistaken. He had to admit to himself that he had almost succumbed to the injuries, but apparently, he was meant for greater things and somebody had been looking out for him. Too bad the person who had pulled him from the frozen lake hadn’t been as lucky. The man had drowned saving him and there was nothing he could have done about it. Worthington had been too weak to do anything but help himself.

Smiling to himself at the memory, he pulled in behind the police vehicle. He could see the man look into his mirror as his own lights illuminated the interior of the patrol car. Worthington shut the engine off, extinguishing the headlights. He opened the door and stepped to the driver’s window of the car. The officer was rolling down the window.

“Good evening, Officer,” Worthington said. He was carrying a stuffed animal in his left arm. It was a purple unicorn with a bright pink bow wrapped around its neck. The officer looked at it and chuckled.

“That’s not for me, I take it,” the policeman said.

Worthington smiled. “No. It’s for my daughter, Ellie.”

The cop’s smile faltered and Worthington could see some wheels turning in there. The cop suddenly grabbed for the radio. Worthington’s right arm shot up and the can of mace he was carrying fired directly into the officer’s face. Worthington immediately reached in and grabbed the officer’s neck, and with the purple unicorn soaked in model airplane fuel, he muffled the officer’s cries with it by stuffing the unicorn into his face and holding it there until the officer succumbed to the fumes.

One down
, he thought.

Walking into the backyard and through the hole in the fence, he approached the second squad car from the rear. This time, he held the unicorn below the officer’s line of sight and tapped on his window, startling the man. The officer rolled it down. Worthington maced him immediately, and then rendered him unconscious in the same fashion as the first.

Two down.
Nobody had noticed a thing. His daughter waited inside. He wasted little time.

Striding to the basement sliding door, he shattered it with a swift kick, the noise loud in the night, but it didn’t matter. He would be in and out within minutes. Commotion from upstairs could be heard as he strode briskly up the stairs. Bursting through the door, he saw the mother directly in front of him, standing with her hands to her face, frozen. He took a step to her and grabbed the junction of the nerve bundle at the base of her neck adjoining the shoulder and applied pressure. She moaned and collapsed, unconscious within seconds, her head striking the floor with a sickening crunch.

The boy came around the corner and paused for a second, staring at him. Then Lucas Harrison charged at him and this surprised Worthington, but nonetheless, it was foolish. As the boy came within range, he moved to his left and brought his knee up into his abdomen, bending him at the waist. His right fist struck the base of his exposed neck and he was down for the count. Worthington grinned and even admired the boy’s foolish courage. Maybe he would re-evaluate the boy’s destiny.

Hearing heavy footfalls above his head, Worthington moved into the hall and turned left into the living room.

And there she was.

The shock on her face only amused him. Of course she would not believe. He knew she had seen a picture of him, but the real recognition came when she saw his eyes. He watched as who he was registered in her mind and then was surprised when she said, “Hello, Daddy.”

Then she ran.

It did no good. He was too quick for her and he cornered her easily. He talked to her soothingly as she struggled against the stuffed animal pressed to her face, but her struggles soon subsided. He lifted her, so small and so light, put her over his shoulder, and walked out the front door. As he reached the bottom of the driveway, the father emerged from the house, shouting, pistol pointed toward him. Worthington did not hesitate. He drew the Glock from the small of his back and fired. The man went down without another sound.

Worthington walked to his car and lay his daughter carefully in the back seat. He opened his own door, glanced around the quiet neighborhood and then sat in the seat. He started the engine and drove away whistling.

His princess had finally come home.

Part 3

Chapter 45

Luke awoke not sure where he was. His head throbbed and things kept swimming in and out of focus around him. Voices penetrated his fog and he could make out things like, ‘bed 23’ and ‘I.V.’ and ‘hydrocodone,’ but none of the voices he recognized. Then, Deana, his sister, spoke in his ear next to him.

“Luke? Luke? Can you hear me? Your eyes are open.”

Luke turned his head toward her voice and the world spun crazily. It settled after a few seconds and Deana’s face swam up from below. She smiled at him.

“There you are,” she said. “Are you ok?”

He had no idea. He didn’t feel much except for the throbbing in his head and the sickening spinning of the room. He tried his voice. “Where?”

“Where are you?”

He started to nod, but stopped because the room started spinning again.

“You’re in the hospital. Mom and Dad are here too.”

“What happened?”

“You got knocked out,” she said.

He couldn’t remember. Were he and John doing something stupid, like the time he fell jumping over ramps with his bike? He thought hard, but nothing surfaced.

“Mom’s on the third floor and is doing great,” Deana went on. “Dad’s still in I.C.U. but will be moved out today. He’s doing a lot better.”

Mom on the third floor? Dad in I.C.U.? He crawled back through his memory and fought to sort things out. It seemed like just yesterday, he and Ellie were playing Monopoly in the living room and she was beating the crap of him. Or was that last year? He remembered giving her cookies in a bag Mom had fixed up, but couldn’t fit it into any time frame. Was it summer? Winter? Did he slip on the driveway and crack his head? The Monopoly game kept swimming up to his consciousness and he saw his hand moving the racecar to Boardwalk over and over again. Every time there was a sound like water crashing or waves breaking over the sand whenever he landed on the spot.

“The police are right outside too, so don’t you worry.”

Police? What the hell happened? The racecar slid across the board and stopped on Boardwalk. ‘Splash!’ Ellie’s face looking scared.

“Katy and Christopher are with Grandma and Grandpa, but they’ll be back up here in about an hour. We sure were worried about you.”

Racecar. Boardwalk. ‘Splash!’ Ellie scared. Racecar. Boardwalk. ‘Crash!!’ Ellie terrified!

His eyes opened wide. Not a splash of water. A crash as glass broke. Ellie’s face scared. Then the killer! In his house!

“Where’s Ellie?!” Luke tried to sit up. “Where’s Ellie?! Where’s Ellie!?” The room started spinning again and he felt Deana’s hands on him and her voice, soothing, trying to calm him down.

“Lay back, Luke. Lay back. Everything will be ok. Calm down.”

Her voice was irritating to him. He didn’t want to calm down. He wanted to know where Ellie was.

He stopped struggling and sat back in his bed and closed his eyes. The spinning seemed to slow. He kept his eyes closed but spoke. “Deana. Tell me where Ellie is.”

Nothing happened for a minute and he thought Deana left, but then he heard her sigh.

“They don’t know.”

“They?”

“The police. They haven’t found her and they haven’t heard from her father.”

“Her father? What does he have to do with anything and where is she?”

“Her father took her. They thought he was dead, but he’s not. He broke into the house and knocked you and Mom out, shot Dad, and left with Ellie. He’s the killer, Luke. I’m sorry, but the pool dummy killer took Ellie and it’s her dad.”

Chapter 46

Jaxon was on his eighth shot of Crown and feeling no pain. At least he kept telling himself that. He was probably in the most pain he’d been in since his son was killed. He was done. It didn’t mattered one way or the other. The killer had beaten him again and made it look easy.

Jaxon had turned his badge and gun in the night everything went bad and had been locked in his apartment for the past two days. He hadn’t been able to save the girl and the bastard had won. The phone was unplugged and his cell turned off. Someone had banged on the door once, but had left after he would not answer. He had been too drunk to remember who it was.

After the frantic drive to the Harrison home, Victoria working the phones trying desperately to get someone, anyone to the house, they had arrived to find the officers from the Pemberton home at the scene, trying to get things under control. Three of the Harrison children were hysterical in the yard as they watched their father bleed from a wound in his chest. The ambulance arrived shortly after, and got Luke and his mother and father loaded up and stabilized. Ellie was nowhere to be found.

The two officers who had been rendered unconscious by Worthington, described the man as ‘big.’ They remembered little else. One said he had horrible dreams of a big purple unicorn trying to suffocate him.

The neighbors had seen very little. One man had witnessed a green Ford Fusion leaving the area after what sounded like a gunshot, but the man had only seen one person in the car. He didn’t get the license plate.

Mrs. Pemberton and her son had shown up, hearing the commotion in the neighborhood and noticing their protectors missing. She had been frantic at the disappearance of her daughter and when she saw Jaxon, lashed out at him, screaming he was a murderer.

“You killed my baby!” she screamed, slapping at his chest as another officer held her back. “You killed my baby! You promised! You promised to keep her safe! You promised!”

By then the news crews had arrived and the whole scene went out live to all the local networks. Jaxon slumped under the weight of her accusations. What could he say? She was right. Victoria stood silently next to him, tears rolling down her cheeks. She had been as devastated as he.

Later, driving to the station, Victoria said two words.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond. Arriving at the station, he left her sitting in the car and walked up to the chief’s office. He looked the man in the eye and said, “I’m done.” Placing his shield and gun on his desk, he turned and walked out, leaving the chief’s protestations fading behind him. When he got to his car, Victoria was gone. He drove home and got drunk.

Now, as he sat in his chair, the Crown Royal doing its job, he couldn’t get the sound of Worthington’s voice out of his head. ‘
That’s what I told Michael, but you never came.’

A pounding sound slowly brought him out of his stupor. Then a familiar voice followed the hammering. For a moment he mistook it for his dead partner Sally, but then he realized it was Victoria. He didn’t want to talk to her, so he poured another shot and slammed it down. The pounding went on for a bit longer and then it stopped. At least she had gotten the point.

Closing his eyes and leaning his head back, a vision of Michael and Victoria swam up from the depths. They had been at Bethany Beach in Delaware. Michael was seven. Jaxon had rented some fishing poles for the day and was showing his son how to use them. The boy couldn’t cast the big rigs on his own so Jaxon would wade into the surf, cast as far as he could, and then walk it back to the beach for Michael to hold. He had gotten a bite on the first cast. They laughed and howled as they reeled the fish in, but when he could see the fishing line drop off into the surf, Michael thought he had lost the fish. He looked so disappointed. Jaxon told him he’d catch another.

When Jaxon walked up to look at the leader and hook, he had been pleasantly surprised. He called Michael over and showed him the flat fish lying hidden in the surf. It was a flounder and Michael had jumped with joy. The fish had almost fooled them. Victoria had been so excited for Michael and she took a ton of pictures with him proudly holding up his catch. That had been a good day.

Somebody was shaking him. He slowly came back to reality and opened his eyes to find Victoria standing over him.

“How did you get in?” he slurred.

“I got the Super to open it,” she said.

He nodded.

“I left Holt,” she said matter-of-factly and sat on the couch across from him.

He didn’t know how to take this. He couldn’t seem to make himself care one way or another. He was beyond numb and his aptitude for compassionate thought had left him hours ago. It still surprised him though.

“Why would you do that?”

She just stared at him, a look of such sorrow on her face a little twinge of compassion crept its way back into his mind. Just a sliver, but it was there.

“Don’t do this,” she said.

He waved a hand at her and then tried to stand up. He didn’t make it. Falling back into his chair, he kicked the bottle of Crown over and it spilled out onto the carpet. He tried to reach for it but couldn’t get to it. She didn’t move.

“Stop it,” she said, but he continued to reach for the bottle. He felt like an infant trying to crawl across the floor for the first time.

She finally got up and grabbed the bottle from the floor. He smiled and reached his hand up for it. She turned and walked out of the room and when she returned she was holding a soda.

“Drink this,” she said. “You need the caffeine.”

“I want my Crown.” he complained, but took the can of soda anyway. “You don’t know everything,” he said.

“I know you’re going to drink yourself to death unless you get a grip on this.”

He tried to focus on her face, but she kept swimming in and out of his line of site. “I think I’m gonna blow.”

“Good,” she said. “That will help.”

He must have looked green because she got up quickly and returned with a trash can. She made it just in time. When he was done, he could think a little clearer.

“Better?” she said.

He sipped the soda, but said, “No. I don’t want to feel better. I don’t want to feel anything at all.”

“The girl is still alive.”

He stopped mid-sip and tried to absorb what she had just said. “Come again.”

“Eliana Pemberton is still alive. He sent us a message a little while ago. Actually, he sent it to the whole country.”

He was processing information a little slow still and he didn’t quite grasp what she told him. “Ellie?”

She nodded, smiling now. She leaned closer to him and grabbed his hand. “She’s still alive. You need to get your shit together if we’re going to help her.”

He looked into her brown eyes and saw she was telling the truth. Something nudged back into place inside of him and he took a breath. “What did it say?”

“The message?”

He nodded.

“Maybe you should wait ‘till you’re sober.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I need to hear it now.”

She looked him in the eyes again and nodded. “Let’s go turn the TV on,” and she stood, reaching for his hand to help him up.

“TV?”

“Yes.”

He grabbed her hand and suddenly felt a little better. He was beginning to feel again and maybe that was a good thing. He stood slowly and leaned on her all the way into the kitchen where his little TV sat on the counter. She turned it on and tuned it to the local CBS affiliate. The story was still running.