William Bernhardt - Cruel Justice

Ben tried another number. After a second he heard: “Hello?”

“This is Ben. Who’s this, Jami?”

“Close. Joni. Hey, Booker told me you two talked. Thanks for—”

“I don’t have time for this now,” Ben said. “Look, Christina’s in my apartment.”

“I know. You sly fox, you.”

“Do you know if she’s had any visitors?”

“I was on the stairs playing cards about ten minutes ago when some hunky dude went up to your apartment.”

“Tall? Dark hair? Gray eyes?”

“That’s the one.”

Ben winced. Mitch Dryer was there.

“Hey, is something wrong? Do you want me to go over there?”

“No. Definitely do not go over there. Christina is in great danger. I need to get a message to her.” If it’s not already too late.

“Just a sec.” The line was muffled for a moment. “Booker says he’ll go.”

“Booker is at your place now? With your parents?”

“Well …” She coughed. “The rest of the family is at the movies right at the moment. … Anyway, he says he’ll go.”

“I don’t think that’s safe.”

“Look, she’ll be a lot safer with Booker there than she would be alone. What’s the message?”

Ben clenched his teeth. He hated to do this, but she was right. Christina alone wouldn’t stand a chance. “Just tell her that he’s the one. Without tipping the guy off. We don’t want him to go ballistic.” If he hasn’t already. “And tell her to get the kids out of there. And herself.”

“Got it.”

“Remember, don’t tip the man off.”

“Don’t worry. Booker is a master of subtlety.”

“Look, I still don’t think—”

It was too late. The line was dead.

“So what’s the word?” Mike asked.

Ben stared ahead at the highway. “Drive like hell,” he muttered, clutching the dash.

74

“YOU’RE JUST MAKING IT worse for yourselves,” Mitch shouted through the closed, locked bedroom door. “If I hurt myself getting in there, it’ll be a lot worse for you.”

Christina pushed Abie into the far corner, away from the door.

“Did you hear me?” His voice dripped with contempt. “I have a knife! I’m going to cut you open. I’ll cut you in the gut and slash you apart, bit by bit, so you’ll die slow.”

He paused. Christina waited to hear what venomous threats came next.

“Did you hear me? I’m going to punish you! And I’m going to do the kiddies first! I’ll make you watch. Do you hear me?”

Abie was terrified. His eyes and nose were running, his limbs were shaking. He clutched at Christina’s waist, and began to make a low murmuring sound: “No, no, no, no, no …” Christina motioned for him to remain quiet.

“Did you hear me? I’m going to rub your nose in their blood, you fucking whore!”

Christina gripped Abie’s shoulder.

“Fine. You asked for it. Here I come.”

Christina held her breath. She heard Mitch cross the room, then, seconds later, she heard the front door buzzer. After a short pause, the buzzer sounded again, even more insistently than before.

“All right,” Mitch whispered through the locked door, “I’m going to see who’s at the door. Remember, I still have the knife. If I hear so much as a peep out of you, he’ll be … a dead ringer!” Mitch laughed hysterically.

Christina bent down and peered through the crack in the door. The gap between the door and the jamb was slightly larger than usual, probably because of the aged and warped wood. She couldn’t see the whole living room, but she could get a narrow view of the front door.

Mitch walked to the door and opened it. Christina was surprised to see a large black teenager standing there.

“Yes?” Mitch said.

“I’s here for Christina,” the boy said. “Where is she?”

Christina held her tongue. She wanted to cry out, but she knew Mitch’s knife was only inches from the boy’s throat.

“Christina? Oh, she isn’t in right now. She went … shopping.”

The strapping teenager peered down with an icy glare. “My Joni told me she’d be here.”

“Your … Joni? Oh—she must be the lass I passed on the stairs. I admire your taste. She’s quite a looker.”

“She’s taken,” he grunted.

“Oh, well, yes. Of course she is.” There was a protracted pause as the two stared down one another. “Well, when Christina returns, I’ll tell her you came by—”

“Isn’t that her purse?”

Through the door, Christina saw the boy push Mitch back and enter the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Uh, no. Actually, that’s … my purse.”

“Yours?” Booker walked to the center of the room. He saw the overturned table, the spilled diaper bag, the phone off the hook. “What—”

Christina saw Mitch lift his knife high into the air. She screamed. Booker whirled around, just an instant too late. Mitch wrapped his arm around Booker’s neck and pulled his head back. The knife plunged into his chest, just beneath the left shoulder. Blood began to ooze out of the wound. A hollow popping noise came out of Booker’s mouth.

Mitch removed the knife. Almost instantaneously, Booker’s body shuddered as if he were going into shock. He dropped to the floor, eyes closed, blood gurgling out of the wound and drenching the hardwood floor.

Mitch stepped on top of Booker’s body. He raised the knife back into the air

“ No! ” Christina shouted. “Help! Someone help!”

Mitch looked toward the closed bedroom door. “You stupid cunt. You’re peeking.” He marched to the locked door. Christina fled to the other side of the room.

“You’ve put this off long enough,” Mitch shouted. “It’s time for you to be punished.” There was a brief pause, then suddenly, the door bowed forward. The splitting of wood sounded like the crackling of thunder. The door gave, but it did not quite break.

Not yet.

Christina knew the door wouldn’t last much longer. She pushed Abie toward the closet.

“We’re going to have to split up,” she said.

“No!” Abie started to wail. “Don’t leave me alone. He’ll kill me! He’ll—”

“Abie, snap out of it!” She grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “We don’t have time for this. I’ll keep that man away from you, but you have to take care of the baby.”

Abie’s eyes were wide. “Me?”

“Yes.” She stood on the lower shelf of the closet and knocked open the panel that led to the roof, her meditation retreat and stargazing sanctuary. “Can you climb up there?”

“I—I think so.”

They were interrupted by another clap of thunder. Mitch crashed against the door. The door was buckling down the middle.

“I can make it,” Abie said. He stepped onto the lower shelf, knocking a pile of books onto the floor.

Christina boosted him as best she could, but she was only five-foot-one herself. Stretching as far as possible, Abie reached into the hole in the roof and pulled himself through.

“Now take Joey.” Christina passed the baby up through the passage, but as soon as he left her arms, he began to cry.

She pulled the mustache pacifier out of her pocket. “Here. Shove this in his mouth. And be very quiet!”

As soon as Abie had the pacifier, she closed the panel, blocking off the passage. She ran back into the bedroom and opened the window.

Not a second too soon. Mitch hit the door running, and this time the aged wood split apart. He pounded the splintered wood a few times with his fist, clearing a passageway.

Christina desperately looked around the room, searching for some kind of weapon. A rattle? A baby-blue blanket? Ben’s CDs? It was hopeless.

And much too late.

“Here I am,” Mitch said as he stepped through the door, knife at the ready. “As promised.”