Book 3 - Part 6: Facing Evil - Chapter Thirty
140 Ochie Woods Lane – 5:57 p.m.
Everything is in its place, and like all things, order is called for. And order he shall have.
There, side-by-side, still slumped over, sat Ed, and Stevie, in the chairs he created. Opposite them both, sat sweet Janis.
But she wouldn’t be sweet much longer.
He remembered a promise he made to himself, all because of Claire Waynestead. He would feast on Ed’s and the Gimp’s hearts in front of sweet Janis, before he would end her life in a screaming, terrifying madness.
Just as Baker was coming around, she could feel an echoing pain inside her head as if someone were stepping on her face and wouldn’t let up. Then she opened her eyes. It took a few seconds before she was able to focus on where she was, but across from her, were Stevie and Ed. They were still alive!
But for how long?
“sweet Janis. You are finally awake. How pleasant. At least I can finally explain how things will happen.
“First, I think I will do, Ed. I will cut off his arms first. Then his cock and shove the teeny-weenie thing into the trash compactor. Then I will pull his head back, so you can watch my work, sweet Janis. Watch as I slice open his throat, still alive, and while he drowns in his own blood, I will leave the mark of X across his chest. My version of the crucifix. I bet that was a clue you never did get, was it?
“Forgive me. I know you can’t reply. Is the tape uncomfortable at all? Too bad if it is, but after I am finished with him, then we get right into the heart of this glorious plan I have. Your son!”
Then his landline rang. The new door installed hadn’t been fully closed as yet, as he intended to let them sit in the room overnight and suffer the looks of agony each were going through.
But a message was left.
“Craig? If you are there, pick up. I need to know you are okay. I haven’t seen or heard from you since you moved in, and you haven’t responded to any of my messages. I’m concerned about you. Please call my office. I’m here until eight.”
Freddy went to the door and slammed it closed.
“There. No more distractions.”
1125 Clearfield Street - 8:27 p.m.
After Devon dropped him off, first thing J.W. did, was take a long, hot shower. The last several hours trying to locate Baker, Manning, and Stevie, had worn him out, and a hot shower would bring back much needed energy.
Tonight, he really wasn’t hungry. He micro’d a bag of popcorn, and poured himself a cup of hot tea, then went to his computer and checked his messages.
The fifth one down had his attention.
It read: I leased a home to a Craig Murray recently. Please call my number in Brighton: 509-335-6225.
Pay dirt!
140 Ochie Woods Lane – 8:42 p.m.
All three of them heard the large, steel-lined door open, and for Baker, it would be his third appearance. For Ed and Stevie, their first.
“Very nice. Now, I will have everyone’s undivided attention.”
He walked over to Stevie, gently caressed his face, then licked him from ear to lips.
“I can taste the tears of fear on his young face. But I also see your eyes in his, sweet Janis. Eyes that say, I want to kill you.” He laughed, then slapped Stevie hard.
“Hold onto that anger, boy. It will be the only thing to make the pain of your death end quickly.”
Then he stepped over to Ed.
“You know, in a weird, twisted, and very fucked up way, I can almost see the mentality she had in marrying you. Then again, I said—almost.” With a blurring backlash, he connected with Ed’s jaw and rocked his head back, then he grabbed his hair and twisted Ed’s face toward his own.
“Don’t you dare pass out on me, you fucking weasel. If you do, I will cut off the boy’s other leg off, right now!”
From behind his back, he pulled out a long, razor-sharp Bowie knife. Just as identical to all the others he has used.
“Pretty piece of work, isn’t it? Jim Bowie was a genius when he designed this gem. He just wasn’t too smart about fighting in a war where he had no way out. And that was pure stupidity.
“You have no options. No options, no way out of a bad, or even good situation.”
He turned around and walked over to Baker.
“Then we have you. Smart, alluring, sensual, alert, a good mommy, and I guess, an okay wife.” Then he looked back at Ed.
“How about it, can she polish your knob, or what. Her pussy suck up that piss-poor cock of yours and make you feel like the man you aren’t?”
He quickly turned and looked at Baker again.
“You once told me you knew what I look like. We both know that is a lie. No one can look like me. Not even my brother when he was alive, pretending to be the salt of the earth; and savior of local souls.
“Because you will die, sweet Janis, I will allow you to see the real me. The real me without makeup or mask. The me I wake up to every day, and sleep with every night. The me that has for years been filled with an unending rage, not just because of my brother, or the asylum, but because of life. Of caring for one life and have it taken away by a God we are all supposed to trust and depend on to see us through life’s trials. Do you have any idea what kind of bullshit that is!
“If the shit were gold, I would own the fucking world.
“Get ready, sweet Janis. You will be the third person in a long, long time to gaze at the monster that lies under this mask.
“Besides, I’m betting you are tired of seeing me walk around with Manning’s face; so off it goes.”
The Phone Call – 8:59 p.m.
“Miss Hampton. This is Officer J.W. Roberts, with the Twenty-Second precinct in Montie. I read your email a few minutes ago.”
“Yes, Officer Roberts. Would you mind telling me what your interest in Craig Murray is?”
“Miss Hampton, it’s a police matter, and if there is something you know about Craig Murray, or his whereabouts, which will help us bring him in for questioning, would be appreciated. If you do know something and fail to tell me, that is considered obstruction of justice, and carries a fine and penalty of one year in jail and a ten-thousand dollars.”
“Excuse me; are you threatening me?”
“No ma’am. Just stating the facts as I know them. Your email stated you leased a house to him for an entire year. Didn’t that make you the least bit suspicious of him?”
“Not at all. I’ve had people rent from me up to six months at a time. You have to understand that the houses and cottages out by Standing Room Lake is prime property.”
“What is his address?”
“First, can you tell me something? Is he going to be arrested? Is he a criminal?”
“Yes, Miss Hampton. The worse kind of criminal.”
“Dammit, dammit, dammit!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, just every time I find a guy I could go for, there is always something wrong with him.”
Maybe you should try women. But he knew better than to say that.
“Miss Hampton, his address, please.”
Five minutes later he was pulling on a pair of jeans, grabbed his service revolver and badge, and called Satchell, so he could take a force out to Ochie Woods Lane, and then Devon, so he could pick him up in one of the squad cars.
When Devon showed up, J.W. hopped in the car and said, “Tonight, Cisco and Poncho are gonna rock, buddy!”
The Twenty-Second Precinct – 9:36 p.m.
“All right. Everyone has their assignments. Use extreme precautions. We have two of our best officers inside that house, with a special young man. I want all three of them walking out of there alive. Make sure all exit roads from the house are blocked off. That includes any side roads, trails and so forth. Freddy gets no way out.
“And if you get the chance, terminate his ass with as much prejudice as you can find. Let’s go!”
Nine police cars ran the road without their sirens blaring, and they would maintain all silence when they came up along the edge of Ochie Woods Lane, a good mile from the house. From there, they left the cars behind and proceeded on foot, branched out, covering all the side roads and pathways.
Tonight, Freddy was going down.