Book 3 - Part 6: Facing Evil - Chapter Thirty-One

140 Ochie Woods Lane – 9:53 p.m.

“…. and now you know the rest of the fiendish story my life has led. Of how I became this way. Of how every time I see this disjointed face in a mirror, my heart gives a wrenching cry for the one woman in this world I could have loved forever, and the only woman I could ever fully trust.

“So, you see, sweet Janis, you had, and still have no idea what I really look like. In truth, I have forgotten my looks. When I killed my brother, his likeness, my likeness, died with him. Now, I create different looks for myself, and go from there, and … to hide the misery I feel at times.”

The phone rang in the front room again.

“Craig? Craig Murray, or whoever you really are; the police are on their way to arrest you. You just make sure all your possessions are out of there by the end of this month! If not, I will sell everything at an auction.”

Freddy’s eyes went on high alert. He strode into the front room and scanned the darkness outside for any kind of motion. He didn’t see any. He went from window to window. Nothing.

He came back to the “Special Room.”

“As much as this grieves me, sweet Janis, I am afraid I will have to let you live after all. Perhaps another time, but not before I do at least one thing to prove my intent wasn’t talk.”

He walked to Stevie and stood in front of him, then lifted his Bowie knife high in the air, and began a downward slashing motion.

There was a loud muffled scream, and Baker’s eyes filled with anguish, horror, and tears.

It wasn’t Stevie that screamed behind the duct tape, it was Ed.

Freddy sliced his left arm off.

“Now, you piece of shit, if they are close by, you better hope they can save your life instead of worrying about me! I would suspect you may have thirty minutes, tops.”

As he started to leave the room, he ripped the duct tape from Baker’s mouth and before she could resist, Freddy feverishly and harshly kissed her, and then bit down on her lip, drawing blood.

Savoring her taste, he whispered in her ear, “It isn’t your heart, but for now it will have to do.”

Freddy quickly made his way to the back door behind the curtain where he would go out into the back yard, and would climb over one rise, and safely make his getaway with a small, powered motorboat. It would take him to another larger cruiser waiting for him that would eventually get him to the east coast to his plane for a flight to South America.

He had everything he needed to get past customs on the smaller boat. A new face, and a new passport. He would become Arthur Manzanettie, a buyer of rare gems.

Freddy had just made it to the top of the rise when he heard, “Stop where you are, or I will blow your mother-fucking head off!”

Back Inside the House – 9:55 p.m.

“Ed! ED! Hold on, please!”

“Oh, my God! It hurts so bad, Jan! I’m getting dizzy. Tired.”

“Don’t close your eyes. Ed! ED! Look at me! LOOK! AT! ME!”

“Ed, do what mom says, please!”

Stevie was partly covered by the first gushing flow of blood from Ed’s severed arm, from the bottom right side of his cheek, over his arm, and part of his chest, but he never noticed.

“Ed, don’t you dare die on me! Please, don’t.” The only other thing Stevie could do was cry.

Baker heard a door crash open and then voices.

“Help us! Back here! In here! Hurry!”

It had been Satchell and four other officers. They quickly made their way to the back room. With no thought, Satchell got on his radio and requested an ambulance arrive ASAP.

“Officer down! 140 Ochie Woods Lane! Needs medical attention, now!”

The officers cut away the tape from Baker, Stevie, and gently, Ed’s. But Ed was thrashing hard one moment, and almost limp the next.

“One of you men, get his arm, and wrap it up in something.” Satchell began to stem the flow of blood by using his own shirt, not caring about the blood covering him.

Baker ran over to Ed, kneeled by his side, holding his one good hand. Tears rushed like a torrential rain. She couldn’t find a glimmer of a reason to smile.

“Please, Ed. Don’t you die. Don’t you dare!”

"I think he's going into shock, Baker."

Satchell continued to apply pressure to the open wound to stem the flow of blood. He looked into Baker’s eyes, as his homemade tourniquet seemed to be working. "I want every man's shirt, to slow his blood flow down. NOW!"

“We might get lucky, Baker. It’s all about God, and time, now.”

Overlooking Standing Room Lake – 9:59 p.m.

“It seems you have me, at least so it appears. One little dip-shit of a cop who thinks he is smarter than everyone else. You weren’t smart enough to save that bitch-ass boyfriend of yours, were you, Roberts.”

J.W. wasn’t prepared for that remark and wavered in his thoughts for a single moment. How did he know?

In that brief second, Freddy raised his arm and threw his Bowie knife at J.W.

He saw it coming and dodged to his left and fired three rounds. He knew one made contact. He saw Freddy in the moon’s silvery glare, clutch at his chest. That was the last thing he remembered.

A few seconds later, Devon was by his side and radioed for a second ambulance. J.W. lay on the ground, eyes closed, and the twelve-inch blade was embedded into his chest.

Devon heard the sound of a boat, and he raced to the top of the rise and could see a lone figure getting away. Raising his standard-issue .45, Devon fired until his gun was hammering on empty chambers.

He ran back to J.W.

“Don’t you die on me, Poncho. Don’t you dare!”