Stephen Cannell - Final Victim

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" The Wind Minstrel shouted as he rose up and stabbed Lockwood with the scalpel.

Lockwood rolled desperately. The scalpel missed his chest and went up to the hilt in his right shoulder. The tip stuck deep in his scapula bone, and then Lockwood rolled further, pulling the scalpel out of The Wind Minstrel's hand. The blade was still embedded in Lockwood's shoulder when the huge killer grabbed for the fallen tire iron and swung it. Lockwood took that blow on the side of the head and it almost put him under.

Suddenly the lights in the bomb shelter went out. At first, Lockwood thought he had gone unconscious, but the pain never left. Then his eyes adjusted and he was looking over the huge man's shoulder, right up the round hatch fifteen feet above, into the moonlit sky… Suddenly, something filled the opening. Then he saw Malavida's face in the center of the hatch.

Malavida threw himself down the opening, free-falling, headfirst.. and landed on Leonard Land's massive back.

Malavida was momentarily dazed, but he managed to snake his arm around Leonard's neck and pulled back, trying to execute a choke hold. They struggled in silence for several seconds. Lockwood's head was not three inches from Malavida's. Their eyes locked, and somehow their stares gave strength to one another. Then, in the circle of moonlight coming from above, he could see Malavida's look of fierce determination turn to desperation. The Chicano had used up all his resources. Leonard started to rise.

"My shoulder," Lockwood hissed. "In my shoulder."

Malavida's eyes went down and saw the scalpel buried in Lock-wood's shoulder. With his left hand he let go of Leonard's neck and grabbed for the scalpel handle, as Leonard rose and got to his feet. Malavida was riding his huge back, but the bloody scalpel had come out of Lockwood's shoulder and was now in Malavida's hand. Leonard spun around and slammed backwards into the wall, knocking Malavida into the concrete.

Malavida fell from the huge man's back and now, in the almost total blackness of the bomb shelter, Lockwood rolled to his feet and charged at the spot where he thought Leonard was. Miraculously, Lockwood caught him in the back with his shoulder and, with spent legs, drove him into the concrete wall as hard as he could. Then he heard Leonard scream out in agony. Leonard came away from the wall and stood in the center of the room, his eyes wide. In the dim moonlight coming down the hatch, Lockwood could not immediately tell what had happened. Then Leonard started grabbing weakly at his kimono.

It was then that Lockwood saw the scalpel buried deep in Leonard's chest. Lockwood had driven him right into Malavida's blade. The huge man shuddered for a minute in the shaft of moonlight. "Mother," he finally whispered, and then he fell forward on his face.

Lockwood crawled to Malavida, who was washed with his own blood from the ripped stomach incision. All of his stitches were now torn.

"Where's Karen?" Malavida said softly.

Lockwood pulled himself up and moved to Karen, whom he could barely see, tied to the table. Her eyes were wide but she was alive. Lockwood looked at the gash on her neck and then, in the almost total darkness, he untied her and helped her off the table.

She knelt beside Malavida. Lockwood didn't think either of them could climb the ladder. Malavida was semi-delinous and bleeding profusely.

"Called cops," Malavida said, weakly.

"You okay?" Lockwood whispered, completely spent.

The Chicano nodded. "Hey, Zanzo."

Lockwood looked over.

"Held your back."

"You sure did," Lockwood admitted.

The three of them sat on the floor, Karen between them. "Thank you," she said to them both. Neither Lockwood nor Malavida had the strength to answer her. Unexpectedly, relief filled Karen's eyes with tears. She took each of their hands and they sat there.

The three of them were still holding hands when the police arrived.

All of them ended up at the hospital in Bradenton. Karen's throat and Lockwood's shoulder were stitched up, but Malavida was rushed into surgery. His fever had climbed to a life-threatening 105 degrees. He had developed peritonitis and they opened him up again, drained out his intestines, bombed him with antibiotics, and prayed. He was back on the critical list. Karen spent five hours getting her broken teeth temporarily capped. Tuesday night her teeth finally settled down enough so she could sleep. On Wednesday afternoon Malavida was upgraded to "serious."

The story unfolded on TV over the next two days, and it was obvious to the entire nation that the three of them had stopped a violent and seriously deranged serial killer. Lockwood had been on the phone to Bob Tilly in Washington. He was determined to keep Malavida from going back to Lompoc and was working with Tilly on an idea. The police had found The Wind Minstrel's barge buried under a tangle of vines in the wetlands. The barge's freezer delivered up a gruesome offering of body parts. It would take almost a month before tissue matches could identify all of them. Besides Candice Wilcox and Leslie Bowers, there were parts of three other women in the freezer. Tashay Roberts had not been heard from.

Lockwood and Karen ate most of their meals in the hospital cafeteria. Lockwood's speech was improving daily, but even so, they had fallen into long lapses of silence, consumed by their own thoughts. Lockwood called Minnesota every evening and talked to Heather. The sound of her voice warmed him like nothing else.

"Daddy, will we still go to a farm?" she asked him each time he called.

"It's a promise, Pumpkin," he answered.

Her voice communicated both hope and disbelief.

Malavida was sitting up by the fourth day. Tubes were hanging like tendrils off the pole by his bed, but his color was back. He looked up at Lockwood and Karen and smiled his beautiful smile.

"I guess I don't get my running start, do I, Zanzo?"

"No running for you at all for a while," Karen said.

"So I'm headed back to Lompoc?"

"I've been working on that," Lockwood said. "I think I got something arranged. But you'll be surrounded by cops."

"Great. What have you got me signed up for this time? Am I a target on the Customs Academy shooting range?"

"I got Bob Tilly, who's now Director of All Operations in D. C., to agree to take you on as a computer specialist. He's arranging for you to be transferred on an early release program from Lompoc. If Karen is crazy enough to want to get into the Pennet computer again, you can do it for her."

"And what about you?" Malavida asked.

"I'm gonna go look for a new home for Heather."

"Where?"

"A farm. I got a lead on a place in Northern California. It's on the coast at Drakes Bay. They need somebody to run the acreage… citrus, I think, buncha trees. I'll be like a caretaker or something. But Heather can have horses and we can settle down. You guys are welcome to come and help me watch fruit grow."

And then Lockwood put his hand on Malavida's shoulder. "I didn't think this would happen… but I've come to have great respect for you, Mal. I'd really like to be your friend," Lockwood said.

"You already are," Malavida answered. And they both knew it was true.

Through all this, Karen said nothing.

Later that night Lockwood and Karen decided to have their last dinner together. Lockwood had a plane ticket to Minnesota and was scheduled to pick Heather up the next day. They went to a little beach restaurant in Gulf City just north of Bradenton. In a touch of irony, from the window table they could see the mouth of the Little Manatee River. After they were seated, they sat in silence. Karen fidgeted with her napkin.