Everything I Die For Page 8

  “You mean in reference to it being a forty-five?”

  The deputy cocked his head. “Yeah, that’s correct. Though I suppose at this point it’s a forty-five alpha, now that it’s been recovered. I take it our departments have been on the horn with each other?”

  The trooper shrugged his shoulders. “Hell if I know. We don’t actually talk to anybody anymore on the radio. Everything we do is all digital now, on microwaves and cyberspace.” He pointed to his laptop and tapped the screen. “All I get is text and grainy images—bits and bytes, sort of like an email. No tone, no attitude and no personality. Just memos, notifications and hogwash.” He chuckled. “And bad news.”

  “Guess I wasted the trip coming back, then. You probably know just as much as we do now.” Jeff took a few steps closer. “Will VSP be heading up the investigation?”

  The trooper shook his head. “I highly doubt it.”

  Jeff’s brow furrowed; he wasn’t expecting that answer. “You’re kidding.”

  “Negative.”

  “The crime’s crossed over several county lines already. When that happens, it usually makes it a live ball in your court.”

  The trooper reached for his campaign hat and got out of his cruiser. “Yeah. Normally, that would be the case. But current events have placed us in a bit of a moratorium.” He donned his hat and finely tweaked the proper positioning and fit on his head. “If you can believe it.”

  “A moratorium?”

  “That’s right,” the trooper replied. “I’ve already alluded to the call volume we’re getting now. But the calls are escalating, as in getting worse. That protest just down the road your way in Winchester has escalated to near-riot status, and the WPD has already placed multiple requests for assistance. Our rapid response teams are en route there from Culpeper. I’ve even heard the mayor’s done freaked out and declared a state of emergency for the town, guessing that’ll garner the governor’s attention and he’ll order the National Guard to respond in kind.”

  “Shit,” Jeff said. “That’s crazy. I’m surprised we haven’t gotten wind of that yet.”

  “I’m sure you will soon,” the trooper said, “but that’s nothing, get this; almost every available unit we have that’s not already tied up is en route to the North Anna Nuclear Facility for some security breach they’ve sustained. Basically, over the span of the past forty-eight hours, the situation in the Commonwealth has gone to hell in a handbasket. In fact, once I go clear here, I’ll be headed that way, too. Which is surprising, considering my proximity to the Winchester call.”

  Jeff watched as the rollback driver finished locking the truck bed and adjusted the tie-downs on the stolen SUV. “So I guess that means the ball has fallen into our court, then.”

  “As far as the GTA’s concerned, yep. Looks that way.”

  “I take it the evidence is being transported to impound?”

  The trooper slipped a small pack of spearmint gum from his trouser pocket and placed a stick on his tongue. “That’s correct. It’s headed to that little lot you guys have in Berryville. The owner’s been notified, though I’m not even sure why. We’re not obligated to notify until the conclusion of the investigation. Guess someone got ahead of themselves.”

  Jeff shook his head and sighed. “My dispatcher, no doubt.”

  “Definitely wasn’t mine,” the trooper said, grinning and chuckling.

  “Guess I’ll give the sheriff a call and let him know VSP’s position, if he hasn’t already been so informed.”

  The trooper nodded and offered Jeff a stick of gum, which he declined.

  “Did you run the occupants?” Jeff asked.

  “Yep. Got their twenty-eight and twenty-nine information right here.” The trooper slid into his car and retrieved two flimsy printouts. “No wants, warrants, no priors. Nothing.”

  Jeff stared at the sheets of paper. “Shit. They’re putting printers in your cruisers now?”

  “There’s a whole damn office in there,” the trooper responded. “Minus a Keurig and a decent microwave.” A pause. “In case you’re wondering, the two occupants slipped away not long after you cleared.”

  “Slipped away?”

  “Yep. Looked to me like the ambulance crew gave them a ride.”

  “The ambulance crew? That’s not exactly procedure,” Jeff said.

  “I’m aware.”

  Jeff’s tone indicated doubt. “I can’t believe Brad would do something like that.”

  “Hey, brother, don’t shoot the messenger,” said the trooper. “I take it you know the squad driver? This Brad subject?”

  Jeff nodded his head slightly. “Yeah, Brad DeHaven. He’s a paramedic. We went to school together.”

  One of the trooper’s eyes squinted. “You think he might’ve somehow gotten himself involved with them? Think he might be complicit?”

  “No,” Jeff responded. “I mean, I don’t know. I wouldn’t think he’d be. Brad is a small-town guy, like me—like most of us around here. This is just all happening sort of fast for me today. We typically don’t have problems like this pop up in Clarke.”

  “You don’t say.” The trooper looked away. “Anyway, since you know this Brad subject, seems to me like a good place to begin your investigation.”

  Jeff nodded. “Yeah, agreed. He should be able to provide a physical description of the suspects.”

  “You don’t have one already?”

  “There wasn’t cause for one earlier,” Jeff said.

  “Well, they were standing right over there.” The trooper pointed. “One male, approximate age mid-forties, one female about a half-foot shorter, probably late thirties. Both were well-dressed…and from the looks of them, I’d guess them husband and wife.” A long pause. “There’s something else I got, might make you smile a bit more.”

  Jeff looked intrigued, but didn’t say anything.

  “I’m pretty sure my dash cam got a real good look at them.”

  “Are you serious?” Jeff asked, then glanced at the cruiser’s dash. “Jesus, man. You got a little bit of everything in there.”

  “Everything but the kitchen sink, as they say,” the trooper mused, motioning to his dashboard-mounted camera. “That thing runs twenty-four hours a day. I couldn’t turn it off even if I wanted to.”

  “Is there a way for us to review the footage?”

  “Of course. I can just pull it up on my laptop,” the trooper responded with a grin. “I’m on a tight schedule, but I’ll arrange it—in the interest of professional courtesy.” He slid back into his cruiser once again and tapped on the keyboard with an index finger. “The footage and captures are uploaded to our server every hour on the hour like clockwork. By my guess, it won’t be too long before every department in the tristate area is on the lookout for them.”

  Ten

  Luria Park. Falls Church, Virginia

  Sonya took in a deep breath of crisp outdoor air and expelled it from her lungs, then replaced it with a drag from a nonfilter papirosa. She’d only brought along a few packs of Russian Belomorkanals with her to the states, this one being her last, and she was getting perilously close to the end of it. She was dreading the thought of having to purchase American-made cigarettes.

  Sonya had hoped to be home long before that point would come, but it didn’t appear as though she would be anytime soon. In response to a spell of terror attacks perpetrated by ISIS jihadists, including a tally of highjacked airliners, the FAA had ordered the shutdown of the National Airspace System, and all flights were now grounded indefinitely.

  While sitting lonesome on a bench not far from the hotel suite acting as her home away from home, she observed an assemblage of children scurrying around on a generously sized playground before her. Playgrounds had always provided Sonya with an inexplicable sense of repose. The sights and sounds of energetic, joyful youngsters carrying on mollified her, alleviated her anxieties, and helped clear her mind.

  She didn’t exactly know why they affected her in such ways, though
she assumed it had something to do with her own childhood, or namely the absence of it. Abducted from her biological family and reinserted into another comprised of organized criminals, mobsters and the like before Sonya was old enough to remember, a life of corruption was the only one she’d ever known.

  As time blew past, Sonya was coming to the realization that her appreciation for playgrounds in her country bore more significance than the one she was now seated amidst. Back home, mothers and fathers and older siblings played with their children. They laughed with them and smiled with them and gave a damn about what they were doing. And the parents she was observing here weren’t doing any of those things. It was getting on Sonya’s last nerve.

  With severely scrutinizing eyes, Sonya stared down the members of the older generation occupying nearby picnic tables, knowing they would never notice her glaring at them. Why would they? They were far too busy occupying themselves with their cellular phones, tablets and laptops, anything but the children they’d brought along with them to play.

  She shook her head in disgust and turned her focus away, fearing herself on the verge of acting rashly. It was Sonya’s belief that had her parents been more observant, there stood a good chance her life would’ve been different now. And maybe she would have been different. Perhaps even normal.

  But she wasn’t normal, she’d never been. Sonya was a stone-cold killer. Someone who took pride in terminating lives while grinning and laughing in the faces of her enemies and expiring victims. And if one of these parents—just one of them—didn’t turn their attention away from their screens and observe his or her child in the next sixty seconds, she was going to swoop onto them and knock every device from every one of their hands. Sonya would then smash each one underfoot and render them permanently inoperable. And if anyone complained, she would fillet them one by one like rare steaks until the complaining ceased.

  “Fucking American parents,” she hissed. “Playgrounds are not designed for…babysitting. Mind your children as you should, so I am not compelled.”

  After many uneventful minutes, two bearded men, sneers coating their faces, made their way from the basketball courts and into the playground area, doing their best to blend in amongst the children. They were taller and had larger builds and hadn’t brought along any children of their own; neither had any business being there. Any onlooker, casual or otherwise, could see that, but there weren’t any, other than Sonya.

  They smiled and clapped and taunted the children and even began playing along with them, but there was something about these men, something unjust. Something wicked. Behind those playful smiles, waves, and friendly gestures was malintent.

  And Sonya sensed it immediately. It was like a scent in the air to her, one she could readily detect, as noticeable and familiar as the smoke from her burning papirosa.

  Before dropping her cigarette to the ground and smothering it with her boot, she regarded the group of parents once more. They still weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention. This behavior was making her sick to her stomach. Did any of them even care?

  She glanced away and discovered that both bearded men had begun moving away from the group’s majority. As they separated, she could see them walking alongside and holding hands with two pint-sized Hispanic girls. Girls far too young for these men to be holding hands with.

  Sonya rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “Just as I suspected. And I suppose it will be up to Sonya to do something about this?” She sent her stare to the sky. “Why is it always me?” Then she stood and made her way swiftly to where the playground ended and the woods began.

  The men were alerted to Sonya’s presence not long after her arrival, a grand entrance she hadn’t endeavored to obscure from them in the least. They shared a few words using an unintelligible dialect; then one of them stepped away after making certain his partner had control of both girls.

  He moved rapidly at Sonya, his index finger pointed at her. “What is it you want, woman? Go back where you came from! This is no concern of yours!”

  Sonya only took broader steps. “Wrong. This concerns me.”

  An arm dropped to his side. It went aloft again, pointing an unfolded knife blade her way threateningly. “You think so, do you? Nosy blonde bitch. You wish to learn something? I will teach you, then!”

  At the point of thrusting the knife at her, Sonya reached out gracefully and snatched it from his hand in a flash, then laughed. “Teach me? Teach me what?” She flipped the knife around and, with zero hesitation, forced the blade into the man’s groin. “You are pathetic.” Sonya gave the blade a twist, then kicked him to the ground.

  The man twisted up, writhed and bellowed in agony.

  Sonya strolled past the crying man to his cohort. “Your friend looks to be in some…pain,” she said, a devious smile appearing. “Would you like to help him? Or continue the lesson he wanted so badly to provide?”

  The second man snarled. He gritted his teeth, and after knocking both girls behind him to the dirt, he lunged at Sonya.

  She dodged him effortlessly, displacing a single foot. The other, which remained in place at first, rose into the air as she rocketed her knee into his lower abdomen. The man grunted and keeled over, his neck landing in Sonya’s waiting open hand.

  She then clamped onto his throat. “Pedophile,” Sonya roared, tensing her grip. “Detestable lowlife. You and your eunuch friend over there are a scourge. I have no remorse for you, no pity whatsoever. But perhaps your God might.” She squeezed harder. “What was his name again?” She then choked down on his throat like a vice, using enough force to strangle the life from the man, letting him fall to the ground when she no longer detected a pulse.

  “Never mind,” she said with a shrug and an eyeroll, sounding almost jovial.

  The two girls had risen and were busily brushing dirt and leaves from their pants. While doing so, they took turns sending Sonya questioning looks.

  Sonya offered her most genuine smile, then approached cautiously with both hands out, palms down and low. “It’s okay, you see? You are both safe now. I am not going to hurt you.”

  While regarding the man behind her thrashing about in pain, they allowed Sonya closer and looked at her warily.

  “Ignore him,” Sonya said, motioning to the man. She used her thumb to wipe some of their tears away. “Are either of you hurt?”

  Both girls glanced at one another, then shook their heads in unison.

  “You are certain? If they harmed you, you can tell me.”

  The girls both shook their heads again after a second’s hesitation.

  “That is fortunate, for both of you. You can never be too careful. Where are your parents?”

  One of the girls shot a thumb over her shoulder. “Home.”

  “Oh? And where is home?” Sonya asked.

  The girl pointed this time. “It’s over there, not far.”

  Sonya scowled. “Your parents don’t accompany you to the playground?”

  Both girls once again shook their heads.

  “Outrageous,” Sonya grumbled. She slid her hand into her shoulder bag and removed a duo of stainless-steel push daggers, their double-edged blades confined in black leather sheaths. She handed them off to a pair of tentative hands. “Take these. I want you to have them. If someone ever touches either of you the wrong way or tries to hurt you again, you cut them. You do this so they will never think to harm you again. Do you understand me?”

  Both girls nodded their heads slowly while staring down at the weapons with which they’d been imparted.

  “Do not ever leave the playground with anyone you don’t know. And if anyone tries to pull you away, you cut them. Make them scream for help so you don’t have to.”

  The girl on the left raised a finger at Sonya’s cheek. “What happened to your face? Did someone…cut you?”

  Sonya looked away before offering a response. “Yes. Someone did. A long time ago.”

  “Did you cut them back?” the girl asked, concern and c
uriosity etching her face.

  “No,” Sonya replied, shaking her head. “But that moment is fast approaching.” She smiled and patted their heads. “Now, go home. Tell your parents what happened here, but try not to mention me, okay? Will you do that for me?”

  After receiving their blessing, Sonya sent them scampering off, then moved in to finish off the bleeding, blubbering would-be snatcher of children who’d yet to perish.

  Eleven

  Young residence

  Its blinding emergency lights still strobing, the ambulance’s rear door squeaked open, and Elisabeth Young disembarked on a set of tired, wobbly feet. She appeared weary and drained of energy, much more than she would normally be after a busy shift, and was having difficulty just keeping her eyes open.

  A man whom Adam didn’t recognize followed his wife out of the vehicle. Once out, the man turned and helped another woman hop down from the elevated platform. Elisabeth and both strangers waved goodbye to the crew and began their approach as the ambulance sounded its backup warning alarm, reversed, then sped off down the driveway. It chirped a tire and tore off with wheels spinning down the road, its sirens coming alive once free of the driveway.

  A heavy-looking blue backpack clinging to her shoulders and her feet dragging behind her, Elisabeth converged on her husband, fatigue on display in every inch of her body language. “Hi, honey, I’m home.” She sighed, forcing a smile.

  “I see that and I’m glad. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever planning on coming back,” Adam said, reaching for her. “Things have been absolutely crazy around here.”

  “Well, as you might imagine, it’s been absolutely crazy for me too—everywhere I’ve been.” She accepted Adam’s affection, but offered zilch in return. “But it’s been way worse for the patients in my care. A lot of heartbreak.” She angled her head at him as he inched back. “You look…I don’t know, surprised to see me.”