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thou shalt not kill

CLASSIC ROUND ROBIN

Chapter 8

by JoAnn Baca

Detective Juarez watched with a grim smile from his position in the control van. In just a few more minutes, Detectives Hughes and Danvers would bring the last two phony Lost Boys marching out in handcuffs, and he’d have a big red bow tied around these sicko vampire wannabes who had been torturing and killing women.

A sudden horn blast pierced the quiet of the street, causing him to wince. What the…?

“Sorry, Juarez, he got his hand away from me for a second there. Got him back under control now.” The voice on the radio belonged to the cop who had grabbed up Earnie Oswald.

But the damage was done. At the signal that something was wrong, McLaren and Emerson backed out of the front door of the Alcott house so quickly they nearly tripped over themselves. They turned and ran, dropping their cloaks and masks for a quicker getaway.

Cursing, Juarez shoved open the van’s back doors and gave chase, followed at a significant distance by Hughes and Danvers. The latter two had, after all, been hiding deep inside the house, hoping the two baddies would fall into their laps during an attempt to abduct or kill Catherine Chandler.

Juarez unfortunately had eaten a few too many calzones in his time, and his days as a long-distance sprinter were long over. He tried his best, but he couldn’t keep up with two criminals highly motivated to escape. The cops stationed around the house – the ones not required to stay with the lookout and driver already in their custody – were even more out of position for a foot pursuit than Hughes and Danvers.

They all tried. But it was a lost cause.

McLaren and Emerson melted into the neighborhood and the darkness, their footfalls growing fainter until Juarez and the others could no longer track them.

Earnie felt good. He had redeemed himself from his screw-up, and now, no matter what happened, he felt he had done all he could.

Catherine waited for the signal to come up from the basement. And waited. The arrest should have happened by now.

She edged into the tunnel just out of sight of the basement stairway to call in a low voice, “Vincent, did you hear anything inside the house?”

He replied in a hoarse whisper, “The break-in, yes. Then a car horn sounded, and all those inside seemed to rush outside.” He leaned in to look at her. “Stay where you are, Catherine, until the police signal you. If those men have escaped custody, they are still a danger to you, perhaps even more so now, as they are desperate.”

“I can’t just sit on my hands and do nothing,” she argued.

“That’s what you must do. Follow the plan. The police know where you are; the men who are looking for you don’t. I will go Above and search for them myself.”

“Be careful!” she whispered, but he had already rushed away in pursuit.

Father listened to his patient’s heartbeat, nodded to himself, then put away his stethoscope. As he hung a new bag of saline drip, he said, “Well, now, Miss Tammy, you seem to be doing a bit better. How do you feel?”

“I…I do feel a little better. But…but…I can’t pay for…” She glanced at her old friend Lucy with desperate eyes.

“All you need to do is rest and get better, sweetie, OK? Nobody’s asking for payment.” Lucy squeezed her friend’s hand. “I’ll be just outside. Close your eyes now.” She stroked Tammy’s hair to relax her, willing her to slow her breaths and let her body focus on healing.

Very little sound penetrated into this hidden sanctuary, and Lucy felt the bliss of such quiet. Citizens of New York were usually subject to a level of noise that put them all at least a little on edge: the clamor caused by millions of busy humans packed tightly together. How rare this place was…even luxurious in its silence.

The peacefulness worked its way into Tammy. Lucy felt the tension in the woman slowly recede. After Tammy’s eyelids drifted shut, Lucy left the Hospital Chamber. She found Vincent’s father sitting in an armchair, unmasking and pulling off his gloves.

Lucy knew she was truly safe in this place, so much so that she felt she could voice her true feelings, even to this intimidating man. So she spoke what was foremost on her troubled mind. “You know what makes me mad?”

Although startled at her bitter tone, Father merely said, “Tell me, my dear. And please, sit.” He indicated the armchair next to his. “Tea?”

He poured her a mug without waiting to hear her agree to one. She smiled, figuring he assumed tea fixed everything. And who was to say it didn’t? She took a sip and let the sweetened liquid slide down her throat. It was nice, but the tea didn’t fix the knot of anger clenched in her stomach.

“You were saying, Miss Lucy?”

“The cops didn’t want to hear about Tammy maybe being in trouble when she disappeared from the hospital after being hurt by those men. But when a well-known lawyer gets attacked…”

“That’s hardly fair,” Father protested.

“You’re right, it isn’t hardly fair!” she said, misunderstanding the meaning of his words.

Wisely, he let that go. Because, he realized belatedly, Lucy was correct. Inequities existed. Certain people were listened to in this world, and certain people were ignored. Didn’t he know both sides of that equation from personal experience?

“Well, Catherine will make sure…with your help, I know…that these terrible men no longer roam the streets at will. And that’s what truly matters, is it not?”

Just then, Cullen called into the antechamber, “Father? I brought the wheelchair down. Fixed the armrests, good as new.” He entered backwards, pulling the chair along. When he turned around, he seemed startled to find that Father wasn’t alone. “Oops, sorry! Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“It’s no intrusion,” Father promised. “We were just discussing the unequal treatment of people from various strata of society when it comes to the time and attention of the authorities.”

“Oh, you mean the treatment that means the rich and well-connected get help, and everyone else can go pound sand?” Cullen’s snide voice punctuated his acerbic comment.

Lucy snorted. “You said it better than I did.”

“Such cynicism, you two.” Father shook his head, but he was smiling sadly. “Yes, I suppose it happens more often than we would hope.”

“It’s why we’re down here, right? To give help and get it from…what did you call it, Father? Oh, yeah…our ‘strata of society’!”

“Very true, very true.” Father saw an opening to leave both the Hospital Chamber and the conversation, and took it. “Well, I’ll let you two continue philosophizing on the downfall of society while I get back to the mapping project I left in Mouse’s hands…gods help me…” He rose somewhat stiffly and accepted his cane from Cullen.

The two younger people watch the older man hobble out on his next errand.

“He’s quite different than I first thought when I met him,” Lucy said, as she watched Vincent’s father disappear down the corridor.

“A whirling dervish of a man, fueled by Earl Grey and gritty determination. He’s got a lot of anger, just like you, Lucy, just holds it in somewhat better.” Cullen shrugged. “Well, haven’t we all got it. We didn’t come Below because we had options. The world Above had taken all of those away from us.” He patted Lucy on the shoulder. “You fit in better than you know, Miss Lucy.”

Grateful for his thawing attitude toward her, she smiled.

As she was about to reply, the pipes erupted with an emergency code. Intruders!