Stephen Cannell - Final Victim

"Tashay, try and knock the gardening tools down. Will you do it!" she commanded, her voice taking on an edge as her frustration grew. "Don't yell at me…" Tashay started to cry again.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I yelled. Can you do it?"

"Why's he go an' do this to me? I don't understand. Why?" "Jump up and knock that rake handle. See if it'll drop the hedge clipper down. Do it… jump… jump up and hit it, can you**?

Tashay looked up at the tools above her head, then back at Karen. "I can't. My wrists hurt."

"You can. Just try…"

"Maybe if I do everything they want… maybe if we promise to be good… maybe then they'll-"

"Tash! Listen to me," she interrupted. "Leonard Land is a psychopathic serial killer. He's murdered three women I know about for sure. Bob Shiff is his foster brother. They aren't going to let you go. They're gonna kill you. They used you to get to me. They're going to kill us both. Our only chance, Tash, is to work together. You've got to help me. Can you do it? Will you try?"

After a long moment she looked up at the rake handle above her head, then back at Karen.

"You can do it. Try. Come on, honey, just once… try."

Tashay looked up, and then she made her first tentative jump in the air. Her wrists had been rubbed raw and she squealed in pain as she jumped up, pulling the short length of chain with her. She almost made it on the first try. "I can't do it," she whined.

"Almost," Karen said. "You almost had it. Just a little higher." Tashay jumped again. This time she hit the tools. The hedge clipper, which was balanced diagonally across the rake, fell between the tools and clattered down onto the concrete floor between them. The noise seemed deafening. Karen prayed nobody heard the racket. She had to move fast; something told her they were almost out of time.

"Okay. Okay… good, Tash. Now you gotta get closer to it and kick it over to me."

Tashay moved as close as she could, then hooked her bare foot under the long handle of the hedge clipper and flipped it over toward Karen. It landed right at the base of the post where Karen was tied. She lowered herself down the splintered wood and rotated around so that her hands were near the handle of the tool. She got a grip on it and started to carefully work her fingers down the handle, bringing the sharp edge of the shears toward her. Her fingers were numb from the ropes, but she finally got her hands on the cutting edge and positioned it so that she could start sawing the ropes that bound her. Then she heard a screen door slam outside and two men talking in low tones. She worked to cut the ropes off. She held on to the blade tightly, sawing frantically. And then she felt one give. She pulled hard and she was free. She stood and moved to Tashay, reached up, and untied her.

"Maybe if we tell Bob we didn't run when we could've, he'll let us go." Tashay was talking animatedly, her voice was too loud.

"Shhhh," Karen said, looking around. "Where's that door go?" she asked, pointing to a door at the rear of the garage.

"Nowhere, just out to the backyard. There's a big hill with trees, goes up to the park. But the door's padlocked. The key's over there," she said, pointing at a tool bench.

"Get it open. I'm gonna try to lock the front from the inside." Tashay retrieved the key and scuttled to the back door. Karen moved to the front of the garage and found some barbed wire. She grabbed it and started to wire the big garage door closed, wrapping it around several times. In her haste, the sharp barbs ripped open her palms and fingers.

Then the wire accidentally banged against the light metal door, making a loud scratching sound.

"The fuck you doin'…?" Bob's voice called from outside. Then she felt the garage door start to open. The wire popped free.

"Run, Tashay!" she yelled as she tried to hold the door closed. She managed for a second, and then Bob Shiff and Leonard Land pushed it up and grabbed for her. She dodged them and stumbled backwards, falling next to the hedge clipper. She snatched them up and swung them at Leonard Land, who was now moving toward her in his awkward lumbering gate. She cut him across the side of his face with the open shears. He roared in anger and grabbed her, picking her up high over his head. Then he threw her down on the concrete floor. She was rocked by the blow, almost losing consciousness. She grabbed his leg and tried to bring him down. It was then that Bob Shiff grabbed her and pinned her arms behind her. He looked around for Tashay, but Tashay was gone. She had escaped out the back door.

"It's her! It's the bitch Shirley!" the man named Leonard Land said. The blood from the cut ran freely down his cheek but he didn't seem to notice it.

And then they heard a car out front. All of them turned and looked out of the open garage into the setting sun, as a gray Lincoln Town Car pulled into the drive.

Lockwood and Malavida were stunned when they pulled into the driveway at Bob Shiff's house and saw Karen on the floor inside the open garage. They saw Leonard Land lumbering toward her and skinny Bob Shiff looking out at them. Lockwood and Malavida struggled to get out of the car, as Land grabbed Karen up off the floor where he'd thrown her, then ran out the rear of the garage.

Lockwood had lost his.45 to the Miami Police Department when he'd been arrested five days before. They were both unarmed. Lockwood knew, even before he was out of the car, that he wasn't going to come close to making it in time. He watched in horror as the huge man moved in that same awkward run he had witnessed in back of Land's house in Tampa. He galloped across the lawn with Karen over his shoulder to the VW van, which was parked on the grass behind the house. Leonard threw Karen into the back and clambered in behind her while Bob Shiff, who was only a few steps back, jumped behind the wheel and started the engine.

Lockwood watched as Malavida stumbled after them. He also didn't have a chance to stop them, so Lockwood turned and hobbled on unsteady legs back to the Lincoln. He got behind the wheel and started it. Malavida had stopped his limping run and had sunk to one knee in the grass, holding his stomach in pain, while Bob Shiff popped the clutch, throwing huge pieces of dead turf out behind the van as it sped away.

Lockwood pulled the Lincoln up to where Malavida was kneeling. There was blood on his shirt where some of the stitches had pulled free, opening his incision. Lockwood reached over and threw open the passenger door. "In!" he croaked.

Malavida pulled himself up by the door handle and slung himself painfully into the passenger seat. Before he could get the door closed, Lockwood floored it and was in pursuit of the VW van, which turned right on Summer Cove Road.

They could see it moving fast, a few hundred yards ahead. Then it turned left onto Old Cutler Road and headed toward Miami.

"Whatta you gonna do?" Malavida asked through clenched teeth, one blood-covered hand still holding his ruptured incision.

"Run fucker off road."

"Karen's in there…

"Gotta stop 'em… ram 'em," Lockwood said, "or she's dead. Call the cops."

Malavida grabbed up his cellphone as Lockwood turned left onto Old Cutler Road, accelerating. The much faster Lincoln began gaining ground on the van. Lockwood figured he could almost catch them before they got to Miami, which was only a mile away.

Something about that didn't make sense. Lockwood knew Shiff could see him in the van's rearview mirror. Why would they head back to Miami, where they would get caught in five o'clock traffic? he wondered.

The Wind Minstrel sat quietly in the back of the speeding van with Leonard's computer on his lap. He knew all of The Rat's tricks and games. He knew he could change the world with the computer. Everything and everybody lived within the web of its influence. The Wind Minstrel never went out in the daylight. He had come out today only because his very survival was at stake, and he cursed the cowardly Rat for leaving this predicament for him to solve. His skin burned as he hooked the computer to the cellphone. The Rat had already preprogrammed everything and it was only a matter of minutes until The Wind Minstrel would activate it. He yelled at Robbie Land to go faster. The VW van rattled at breakneck speed. The Wind Minstrel loved Death Metal music but he abhorred Robbie Land. He was just a pretender, a poser who called himself Satan, but he was a fool with his worship of sick monsters-men like Dahmer, who ate his victims, or John Wayne Gacy, who killed to fulfill a sick fantasy. The Wind Minstrel was holy. His murders were Grand Biblical Adventures. He was the Anti-Christ, and walked on a higher plane of ritual dedication. He was involved in a personal struggle with the Almighty Himself to see which of them would control the universe.