Notorious Nineteen Page 18

  “I have someone in the kitchen,” Ranger said from across the table. “This should be okay.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  IT WAS ELEVEN when we left the restaurant. Two Rangeman SUVs followed Kinsey and Amanda, and another one followed Ranger.

  “Did you think he would make a move at the restaurant?” I asked Ranger.

  “I thought he would try something at the church. It could be that he’s discouraged by the security force.”

  “I like Amanda. It was nice to get to know her. Will she be safe for the rest of the night?”

  “She’s with Kinsey. I have them back in the safe house. She should be okay.” Ranger stopped for a light and looked over at me. “Would you consider spending the night at Rangeman?”

  Oh boy. Desirable for a variety of reasons, the least of which was security, but I was remembering the conversation with Amanda about marriage. And I was remembering Morelli.

  “Not a good idea,” I said.

  “You’d be safe there.”

  “Tempting, but I think I should go home tonight. I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m Orin’s number one target.”

  “No, but you could be his number two target. Hal is following us. I’ll leave him in your parking lot. And do not remove the GPS devices.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ten minutes later Ranger opened my door and stepped into my apartment. He did a walk-through, looking in closets and under the bed.

  “Lock up when I leave and don’t open your door to anyone,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

  I hesitated for a beat. “I’m sure.”

  He traced a line down the side of my face with his fingertip. “Would you like me to change your mind?”

  That got a smile from me. “No, but thanks for offering.”

  He stood outside my door and waited until he heard all my locks tumble into place, then he knocked once and left.

  I glanced over at Tiki. “What do you think? Did I do the right thing?”

  Tiki looked disgusted with the whole process, so I had the last beer in the fridge and went to bed. I’m not usually a restless sleeper but I had a horrible night. I was worried about Orin going after Amanda and Ranger and Kinsey. I thought it was remote that he would attack me. He’d made a show of sending a firebomb into my apartment but I wasn’t convinced he cared about killing me or even torturing me. I figured I was tangential to his vendetta.

  At daybreak I gave up trying to sleep. I forced myself out of bed and into the shower. An hour later I was on the road in search of breakfast. I was thinking something greasy and salty and totally unhealthy. Something fattening with cheese and a worthless piece of white bread. I pulled into Cluck-in-a-Bucket and ordered their breakfast sandwich and coffee. It was too early to go to the office. Connie wouldn’t be there until eight o’clock and it wasn’t even nearly eight.

  Hal was in line behind me. I waited for him to get his order and then I pulled out into traffic. I returned to my apartment building, parked, and went back to talk to Hal.

  “I need a nap,” I told him. “You don’t have to stay here.”

  “Ranger told me to keep my eye on you and that’s what I’m doing,” Hal said. “I get relieved at eight o’clock.”

  I trudged up the stairs and down the hall. I let myself into my apartment, relocked the door, and took my coffee and breakfast sandwich into the kitchen. Rex was sound asleep in his soup can. Tiki was on guard.

  I ate the sandwich and sipped my coffee. “This is the day,” I said to Tiki. “I have to get into the pink dress and march down the aisle today. I’d almost rather face Orin.”

  I turned to go into the bedroom and Orin was in front of me.

  “Your lucky day,” he said.

  He resembled the man in the photo but there were significant changes. He’d lost weight and his face and hands were badly scarred. The dimple was still there, partially obscured by the scarring. One ear was almost completely obliterated. His eyes were very pale blue, almost colorless, and his pupils were shrunk to tiny pinpoints that hinted at total insanity. I sucked in air and the coffee sloshed out of my cup and onto the floor.

  “Hideous, right?” he asked. “Do I scare you?”

  I was unable to speak. My heart was pounding in my chest and I was suffocating, unable to breathe. He was hideous, not because of the scars but because of the eyes. The eyes were terrifying.

  He was wearing army fatigues. His semi-automatic was holstered, as was a large knife. His chest was crisscrossed with ammo belts. Two grenades and packets of what I feared were explosives were strapped to the ammo belts with black electrician’s tape. He was holding a black baton that at first glance looked like a flashlight, but there were two prongs where the light should have been. Heavy-duty stun gun, I thought. Not good news.

  He swung the baton and knocked the coffee out of my hand, sending it flying toward a wall. I yelped, and he came at me with the baton. He hit me hard in the thigh, pressed the prongs against my side, and I crumpled to the floor.

  When I came around I had my hands bound behind me with electrician’s tape, and I’d been propped up against the under-sink cabinet in the kitchen. Orin was sitting on a dining room chair about three feet away, looking at me. He had a lighter in his hand. It was the kind you use to light a fireplace or a grill, and he was flicking it on and off.

  “Do you like fire?” he asked.

  “Sometimes,” I said, working to keep my voice from trembling, not wanting to show fear. I thought about the watch on my wrist. I’d been too flustered to remember to press the button when Orin initially surprised me, and now it was under layers of tape and not accessible.

  “It drives the devil out,” Orin said. “That’s why they used to burn witches. It returns everything to a pure state. It’s the only way the soul can be released from the body in its most beautiful form.”

  “Does cremation count?” I asked him.

  “Not if it’s done after death. We must all suffer to achieve grace. It’s important you understand this because you’re going to suffer terribly. You’re going to beg me to stop the suffering, but it will all be worth it to you. You’ll die cleansed.”

  “Why me?”

  “You’ve been chosen. Ranger chose you. So now I have to cleanse both of you.”

  “So this is about Ranger.”

  “He did a very bad thing. And he encouraged Kinsey to follow him. They abandoned the unit. When they left we were broken up and scattered to the winds.”

  “They left when their tour of duty was done.”

  “We were a brotherhood. It was a holy pact. While we were together we had divine protection. Once the bond was broken we were unprotected. These scars I wear are the result of that broken bond. I was attacked by the devil. It would never have happened if Ranger and Kinsey had kept us together. They did the unthinkable and now we’re all at risk. The devil stalks us and I’m the only one who can set it right.”

  “Ranger thought you were dead.”

  “Everyone thinks I’m dead,” Orin said. “I’m like a zombie.”

  His voice was flat and soft. No emotion. No emotion in his face. I wondered if he’d always been like that or if the craziness had reached critical mass and taken away all else.

  “When the lesson happened I was in a truck in Afghanistan.”

  “Lesson?”

  “The divine intervention that showed me the penalty for Ranger’s sin. The day the devil was allowed to visit me.”

  I could feel goose bumps break out on my arm and a chill slide the length of my spine. As a bounty hunter I’ve come into contact with a good number of unhinged souls, but there was an otherworldliness to Orin that I hadn’t seen before. A total detachment from reality that could only be described as cruel serenity.

  “We were under fire and the truck took a hit,” Orin said. “The impact was so violent the truck was tossed into the air and came to land in a field. There were five of us in the truck and everyone but me
was blown to bits. Nothing left but bloody body parts. As it was I lost my foot.” He raised his camo pants to show a prosthetic. “That’s how I was identified as dead. Nothing left of me but my foot.”

  “But you didn’t die.”

  “I’m not allowed to die until Ranger and Kinsey die. Only part of me burned in the explosion. The rest of my mortal body is waiting.”

  “Why weren’t you found with the rest of the men in the truck?”

  “I was captured and caged. After years of imprisonment, when I realized my purpose for living, I escaped. I inched my way out of the Middle East, to Europe, to rehabilitate myself enough to complete my mission. And here I am.” He said this very matter of fact, his hands folded in his lap. “Imagine how saddened I was to learn that Ranger and Kinsey had infected two women with their evil. Although in a way it enhances the process for them. They’ll have the additional agony of knowing someone they loved had a painful and early death. Perhaps it will save them from eternal hell. So you see I’m not actually a zombie. I’m an angel.”

  I was sure he believed it. He believed everything he said. The whole crazy jumble of devil and divine intervention and abandonment.

  “I’ve brought this fire starter,” he said. “I thought I would burn you a little at a time. Let you enjoy the pain. Allow you to see your flesh blister and melt away. I don’t want to go too fast and rob you of the experience.”

  “I could help you,” I said. “Counseling, drugs, a religious advisor, a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t need help. I’m in a good place. I just need to finish my task. It’s taken me years to get to this point. It’s all I’ve worked for.”

  He grabbed my ponytail and set fire to it.

  I shrieked and tried to jerk away but he held fast. I smelled my hair burning, felt the fire burning my neck. And over my shrieking I heard someone pounding on my door, ringing my doorbell.

  “I hate this sort of distraction,” Orin said.

  He yanked me up by my hair, shoved my head under the faucet, and turned the water on to put the fire out. He went to the door and looked through the security peephole.

  “It’s a man,” he said. “Tell him to go away.”

  I went to the peephole and looked out. I’d expected to see Hal but it was Brody Logan. “Go away,” I said.

  “I want Tiki. I got a bad feeling. Tiki’s sending out weird vibes. I want to see him to make sure he’s okay.”

  Orin had me by the arm, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

  “Go home,” I said to Logan.

  “I don’t have a home.”

  “Then go to your tent.”

  “No way. I want to see Tiki.”

  “Help!” I yelled at the door. “Get HELP! Call the police! Get the Rangeman guy!”

  Orin grabbed me by my bound wrists and threw me across the room. He opened the door, yanked Logan inside, closed and relocked the door, and drew his gun.

  “Dude!” Logan said, eyes wide.

  I struggled to my feet, got a running start, and head-butted Orin, knocking him to his knees.

  “Do something,” I shrieked at Logan. “Do something!”

  Logan went spastic, arms flailing, feet not knowing which way to move. He spotted Tiki in the kitchen and lunged for him, lifting him off the counter, wrapping him in his arms.

  Orin stood and pointed his gun at Logan. I knocked into Orin again, jostling the gun, and Orin drilled two rounds into Tiki.

  Logan let out a roar and charged Orin, bashing him in the face, using Tiki like a battering ram. Blood gushed from Orin’s nose, and Logan immediately rammed Orin again, catching him square in the chest. I heard something go plink onto my tile floor. I looked down and saw that it was a pin to one of the grenades. Time stood still for a moment while we all stared at the pin.

  Orin grabbed at the live grenade still taped to his gun belt, and I kicked him hard in his prosthetic. The prosthetic flew off and Orin lost his balance, wheeling around on one leg. Logan and I dove into the kitchen, and Orin fell facedown and blew up in the foyer.

  I was stunned, sitting on the kitchen floor with my ears ringing. Logan was next to me hugging Tiki.

  “He shouldn’t have shot Tiki,” Logan said. “Hawaiian gods get even. Did you see what Tiki did to his foot? It flew right off his leg when you kicked it!”

  “It was a prosthetic,” I said to Logan.

  “I guess that would make it easier,” Logan said.

  I have a metal fire door with four deadbolts, but Orin had only thrown one of the locks when he closed the door. I heard someone put his foot to the door from the other side, and on the second attempt the door crashed open against the wall. It was Hal. He took a couple steps in, gun drawn, avoiding what was left of Orin, and looked in the kitchen at me.

  “I’m okay,” I said.

  I thought there were sounds of elephants running in the hall, dimly heard over the ringing in my ears. It was Ranger and two more Rangeman guys. Not as big as elephants, but the two men with Ranger could easily have made the NFL playing defense.

  Ranger moved around Orin, stepped into the kitchen, and lifted me to my feet. He took a knife off his gun belt and cut my tape away.

  “I was on Hamilton when the alarm went off,” Ranger said. “I listened to you all the way, and got here just as the explosion occurred. Hal was already at your door by then.”

  I looked down at the plus sign on the watch face. Hard to read because I was shaking.

  “I wasn’t fast enough to hit the button when he first appeared,” I said. “And then my wrists were taped. He must have accidentally pushed the button when he grabbed me.”

  People were accumulating in the hall. Ranger told one of the men to close the door and stand guard outside. Some of Orin was facedown on the tile. Some of him was on my foyer wall. What was on the floor was charred and smoking. Only the prosthetic foot was still intact, halfway across the room.

  “What happened here?” Ranger asked me.

  “He had what I thought might be explosives and a couple grenades taped to the ammo belts across his chest. There was a scuffle and one of the grenades lost a pin. Logan and I dove for the kitchen and Orin exploded.”

  Ranger squatted beside the body. “The most common grenade sends fragments over a wide radius. Orin was a munitions genius, and I’m guessing this was some sort of designer incendiary device. We need to clear this area and bring in a bomb expert to make sure there aren’t any more live explosives on him.”

  “Is he dead?” Logan asked.

  This was a no-brainer question considering what was left of Orin.

  “He’s been dead for years,” Ranger said.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  LOGAN CARRIED TIKI into the hall, I grabbed my messenger bag, and Ranger carried Rex’s hamster tank. By the time we reached the parking lot, emergency vehicles were rumbling in. A fire truck, an EMT truck, two police cars. Morelli in the Buick.

  Morelli parked and jogged over to us. He stood hands on hips, his expression grim.

  “Are you okay?” he asked me.

  “Except for my ponytail,” I said. “And some minor burns on my neck.”

  He looked up at my apartment windows. “What’s going on?”

  “The rocket guy blew himself up,” I said. “He needs to be checked out to make sure he’s not still booby-trapped.”

  “Are you on the job?” Ranger asked Morelli.

  “No,” Morelli said. “I’m off today. Jean Matson was working dispatch and called me when Rangeman asked for police assistance.”

  “I’m going to see this through,” Ranger said. “It’s not necessary for anyone else to stay. I’m sure Stephanie will have to give a statement, but she can do that downtown some other time. I have the explosion and events immediately preceding it recorded.”

  Morelli took Rex from Ranger. “Where do you want to go first, my house or a hair salon?”

  I gave up a sigh. “Your house,” I said. I glanced at Logan, and thought he looked lost, cradling
Tiki, unsure of his place. “Can we take Logan with us?”

  “Sure,” Morelli said, slinging an arm around me. “Let’s go home.”

  We piled into the Buick and chugged out of the lot. Minutes later we were in Morelli’s nice normal neighborhood, and the explosion seemed far away.

  “I thought you were taking me to jail,” Logan said when we parked.

  “It’s not at the top of my list,” I told him. “I want to change out of this wet shirt, zone out on Morelli’s couch, and let it sink in that the nightmare is over.”

  I went upstairs, swapped my shirt for one of Morelli’s T-shirts, trudged into the bathroom, and looked at my hair. Any other time I would have burst into tears, but right now I was happy just to be alive. It’s hair, I told myself. It’ll grow. I crawled into Morelli’s bed and woke up hours later in a panic. The wedding! I’d forgotten all about the wedding.

  I ran downstairs and found Morelli, Logan, Tiki, and Bob on the couch watching television.

  “Did Ranger call? Did I miss anything?” I asked.

  “We got the bullets out of Tiki, filled him in with wood putty, and colored it with a brown Magic Marker,” Logan said. “He’s feeling a lot better.”

  Morelli had his hand in a bag of chips. “Ranger called and I told him you were sleeping. He’s coming by at two o’clock with the dress. Since the original maid of honor didn’t think she could lose thirty pounds in time to fit the altered dress she relinquished the gig to you. And apparently Amanda really wanted you to still be in the wedding. Ranger said if you needed anything from your apartment you should call him.”

  “It’s almost two now,” I said. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “I went up to look in on you and you were out like a light. I thought you needed the sleep.”

  I felt around the back of my head for the burned-off ponytail. “I need to do something with my hair.”

  “Cupcake, that’s a lost cause. I can cut the singed ends off if you want.”

  The doorbell rang and Ranger walked in, carrying the plastic-bagged dress. He was in his tux, with a five o’clock shadow and dark circles under his eyes.