Erica Spindler - Dead Run

A high scream of pain shattered the moment. Heather released Liz, and she stumbled sideways against the altar. Liz saw that a piece of glass had imbedded itself in the back of Heather’s neck. The woman clawed at it, the knife slipping from her hands.

Liz dived for the knife. Heather got to it first, caught her and dragged her back. Liz fought and kicked. A second gunshot rent the air. The bullet whizzed past her head.

Mark, Liz saw. On his knees, Valentine Lopez’s gun in his shaking hands. The lieutenant lay unmoving, half of his head blown away.

“Get away from her!” Mark shouted, pointing the weapon at Heather.

Heather reared up, her face contorted with hate. Blood streamed from her hand. She drew back the knife. Mark pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

The chamber was empty.

Rick cried out her name. Liz was aware of him dragging himself toward the fallen officer. He wouldn’t make it, she knew. It was over already.

Heather laughed. Thunder shook the sanctuary. A deep groan trembled across the floor, followed by a loud crack. Heather turned. The crucifix swayed slightly. Her face went white, then blank. She threw her arms up.

In the next instant, the crucifix toppled, crushing Heather beneath it.

Friday, November 23

11:00 a.m.

Liz sat beside her sister’s hospital bed. Sunlight streamed through the window, creating bright patches on the white bedding. The storm had passed, leaving Key West only slightly worse for wear. Once again, paradise had been saved.

The city and her citizens had begun to clean up. Repairing the damages. Clearing away the debris. Moving on.

Liz glanced from the window to her sister. Rachel slept. She had been moved from intensive care just that morning. Liz drank in her sister’s face, throat tight with tears of happiness. She’d thought she would never see her again. Never be able to hold her, laugh with her-never be able to tell her how much she loved her.

She had been given a gift so precious her heart could hardly hold the joy of it.

The color had begun to return to Rachel’s cheeks. Liz, it turned out, had accurately diagnosed her sister’s symptoms: heatstroke, dehydration and malnourishment. She had also suffered some secondary infection caused by untreated wounds.

The doctor had proclaimed Rachel a lucky woman. It was a miracle her kidneys hadn’t shut down. That she hadn’t slipped into a coma and died. Liz, he believed, had arrived in the nick of time. An hour later may have been too late.

Lucky to be alive, Liz thought. They were all lucky to be alive. Gratitude swelled in her chest. Thankfulness. She would never take life or those she loved for granted again. Would never take God’s grace for granted again.

For by what else had her, Rick’s and Rachel’s lives been spared?

“How is she?”

Liz glanced over her shoulder. Rick stood in the open doorway. She smiled. “Good. The doctor’s amazed by how she’s responded.”

“It’s a miracle she’s alive.”

“I was just thinking that.” She shifted her gaze to the white paper sack he carried. “Please tell me that’s something to eat. Something that didn’t come from the hospital cafeteria.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “ Turkey sandwich from the Green Parrot. Dressed with cranberry sauce. Happy day after Thanksgiving, Liz.”

He crossed to the bed, bent and kissed her. So much to give thanks for, she thought. So many blessings.

“I just left a meeting with the chief,” he said, setting the bag on the bed table.

She searched his gaze. “And?”

“And…the loss of Carla and Lopez has left a huge hole in the department. He needs somebody with experience. Someone familiar with Key West and all her idiosyncrasies.”

And a local hero, Liz thought. Someone who had been wronged by Valentine Lopez but didn’t hold the police department liable.

Valentine Lopez’s trail of slime had, indeed, led all over the island. It seemed Larry Bernhardt was not the only local businessman blackmailed into feeding Val’s bank account. As he had claimed to Rick, Val had been king of his own illegal mini empire, run from his office at the KWPD.

“He offered you a job,” she murmured.

Rick nodded, his expression bemused. “Yup.”

“Are you going to take it?”

“I told him I’d think about it but…yeah, I might.”

Rick, a cop again. Truth was, he had never stopped being one.

“What about Rick’s Island Hideaway?”

He met her eyes. Something in them had her heart pounding. “I don’t need a hideaway anymore, Liz.”

She shifted her gaze, nervous. Hopeful. Wondering if what had occurred between them had been real or simply a side effect of the danger they had been in. She wondered if, given a chance, it would grow into something wonderful…or wither and die.

“Where’s Mark?” he asked.

“Down the hall, visiting Tim.”

Rick shook his head. “Another who’s lucky to be alive. A bullet to his sternum, another to a rib. It’s hard to believe they weren’t fatal.”

“Thank God.”

“Yes,” her sister murmured weakly. “Thank God.”

They turned. Rachel had awakened and was watching them, a small, contented smile tipping the edges of her mouth.

“Hi, sweetie. Feeling okay?”

She nodded. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A while. The doctor says you’re going to be fine.”

“I was fine before. My Lord was with me.”

Liz laced her fingers through Rachel’s. “When you’re strong enough, the police need to speak with you.”

“Anytime,” she murmured, then shifted her gaze. Her eyes widened slightly, as with surprise. “You have my ring. I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

Tears stung Liz’s eyes. “Glad to be of help, sis.” She slipped off the band and slid it onto her sister’s finger.

Rachel gazed at it a moment, then turned her attention to Rick. “Hello,” she said. “You must be one of my heroes.”

Liz introduced them and Rick crossed to the bed. “It’s good to see you looking so well, Pastor.”

“Please, call me Rachel.” She tightened her fingers on Liz’s. “Is Stephen…did they-”

“He’s fine,” Liz said quickly. “Under a doctor’s care in Miami. He’ll be home soon. And very happy to see you, I know.”

Rachel closed her eyes, then reopened them. “He got you the envelope? With the photographs? And the drawing?”

“He did.”

Rachel was quiet a moment. “I was afraid to involve Stephen that way, afraid to involve you. Afraid for my congregation. I tried to warn them through my sermons, but I only succeeded in alienating them. Then when I realized the police were involved, I didn’t know where to turn.”

“You did good, sis.” Liz squeezed her fingers, then turned as two sheriff’s officers entered the room.

“How are you feeling, Pastor Howard?” the first said, crossing to the bed. “I’m Deputy Newman, Sheriff’s Department. This is Deputy Paulson. Do you feel up to answering a few questions?”

She said she was and the deputy looked at Liz and Rick. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to speak with her alone.”

Liz hung back. “I’d really prefer to stay.”

“Go on, Liz.” Rachel squeezed then released her hands. “Go on and check on your friends, I’ll be fine.”

Liz hesitated a moment more, and nodded. She and Rick slipped out into the hall. She glanced back as the door shut, then up at Rick.

“Did the chief say anything about the investigation?”

“They’re still piecing things together, but you were right, Liz. It seems that Heather was Taft’s accomplice. They believe she met him at FSU and that they became lovers. She had already dabbled in drugs and the occult, had become fascinated by the teaching of satanists Aleister Crowley and Anton LaVey. She was easily drawn into his belief in his own divine evil. They killed Heather’s sister, their first victim working together as a team.