Ward said, “Right now we just have to keep him at bay until help gets here, which should be very soon. Todd will get word out and his guys are on their way here.” And he wondered if Todd had indeed made it out to a good signal.
Leslie said, “Can we talk about something else? He's just a crazy man, and talking about him won't get rid of him. We have to figure out a plan to kill him.”
“Did you guys ever have a seance to talk to your son? Maybe he like has an idea. Seances are so cool.”
SEVENTY-THREE
Ward opened the. 38 and looked at the candle's reflection on the brass circles, the contrasting silver primers in their centers. He closed the cylinder carefully, hearing the positive snap of steel on steel as it locked back in place.
Sitting in the silence, he heard a squeak over Alice's Game Boy that was so slight he almost missed it. The women heard it, too, and turned toward the sound. His house had been built using expensive hardware throughout, but even the best metal hinges, when not lubricated regularly, would make a noise when opening.
“Natasha, take Leslie and Alice to our bedroom and lock the door,” he whispered. “You can escape through the window. Once I know he's in here, I'll yell.”
“Maybe it's Todd,” Natasha whispered back.
“No, he'd knock,” Ward whispered.
Alice turned off her Game Boy and looked at Ward. Without saying anything, Leslie took the butcher knife, Alice lifted her tote bag, and they followed Natasha out of the room, moving fast down the hallway.
Ward blew out the candle, got behind the chair, and aimed the. 38 at the kitchen door thirty feet away across the dining table. He heard the bedroom door slamming shut behind the women. He blinked and waited for his eyes to become fully accustomed to the darkness.
Using the back of the chair to brace his extended hands-one gripping the weapon, the other under the butt-Ward felt his gun hand shaking. Never in his life had he been in mortal danger. He knew Louis Gismano was in the kitchen; to get into the rest of the house he had to come through the kitchen door, which Ward could just make out. Once through the door Gismano's choices were to make a hard left turn to the foyer, or come in the darkness straight toward Ward through the dining area. When Louis left the kitchen to come into the den, he would be in range. The only problem was that Ward had never fired a gun at any living thing before.
“Louis,” Ward said in a louder than conversational tone. “I know why you're here. What happened to your son was a terrible tragedy, but it wasn't my wife's fault. There are people with guns coming any minute. You can just go,” Ward said, his voice breaking up slightly. “I have a gun. I don't want to shoot you, but I will if you don't give me any choice.”
He jumped at the sound of Natasha's voice drifting eerily out from the kitchen. “Little guy, Mama loves you so very much.”
He knew the recorded voice came from the stuffed bear that had been stolen.
Ward wondered if his mind was playing a trick on him, or if there was a figure filling the kitchen doorway.
Rage replaced his fear, and remembering Todd's instructions, and trusting his instincts, Ward let his brain tell his hand where to send the bullet, and he slowly tightened his grip, squeezing the trigger back evenly. For a split second when the trigger broke, his hand jumped, bright light filled the large space, and the explosion deafened him. In the flash Ward saw a man standing there. As Ward's eyes adjusted, he was sure the door frame was now empty.
“Shit,” Ward said.
He was answered with a loud, eerie burst of laughter and Natasha's recorded voice: “Little guy, Mama loves you so very much.”
John Ramsey Miller
The Last Day
SEVENTY-FOUR
Holding hands, the three women strode in controlled panic down the hall in the dark, entering the master bedroom. Natasha slammed and locked the heavy door after them.
“The killer is in the house?” Alice asked.
“Not now,” Leslie snapped.
“Well, excuse me for asking questions,” Alice shot back. “There is a maniac after me.”
“Sorry, Alice,” Natasha said. “Why in God's name are you two here? It isn't fair. We have to get you both out safe.”
“What about you?” Leslie said, holding the knife down by her side.
“He wants me,” Natasha said. “Worst case, he gets me. Go, you two. Out the window. Go to the road and flag down a car, or turn right and go to the subdivision and call the sheriff.”
Taking the window crank in hand Natasha started turning it counterclockwise and the window began to slowly open out. As she was about to get it open enough for them to get out, there was an explosion, loud even through the solid door.
“Ward!” Natasha cried out.
“Was that a gun?” Alice asked.
“Ward must have shot at him,” Leslie said, hopefully. “Maybe he got him?”
Or maybe he shot at Ward. “Leslie, you and Alice go now! Get away while he's in here.”
“What about you?” Leslie said. “I'm not going anywhere.”
Alice went to the window and looked out. “It's a long way down,” she said. “I could get hurt jumping down there.”
“You could get killed in here,” Natasha said. “Now go. You, too, Leslie.”
“You're not coming?” Leslie asked, incredulous.
Through the door the women heard the killer's muted laughter.
“Ward needs me,” Natasha said. “I won't leave him. Give me that knife and go.”
“You want the knife?” Leslie asked.
“What, are you going to fight a killer?” Alice asked.
“If need be,” Natasha said.
“But you're a doctor,” Alice said. “What do you know about killing people?”
SEVENTY-FIVE
“Nobody's coming. Hartman never made a call.” The odd, lilting voice came from the kitchen. “The doctor has to pay for murdering my son.”
A sinking feeling captured Ward when he knew that Todd hadn't made it out. But, he thought, Todd had already called for backup, and Louis had no way to know that.
“Todd called for help,” Ward called out in the darkness.
“Ward, I never made any calls. I hope you can forgive me for deceiving you. I never called my guys. But I want you to know I did tear up the check you wrote me.”
“Todd?”
The voice changed, became instantly rec ognizable. “No, I'm Louis Gismano. I've only been Todd Hartman, P.I., for three years. Hartman was a buddy of mine from Bragg. Nice guy, too, if a bit simple. He was an MP from Muncie, Indiana, who married a sweet gal from Australia and moved to Sydney. We stay in touch. I got his birth certificate and switched our fingerprints and DNA records. He's a successful private investigator because I put in a lot of legit hours, when I wasn't watching you two, or Howard Lindley.”
Ward was still aiming at the doorway, but his hand was shaking worse than before he'd fired the gun.
“You came damn close to doing me serious injury, Ward,” Louis said from the kitchen in a loud voice. The light came on in that room, star-tling Ward. “I've had worse, but for your first shot at a man, it wasn't far off, really. And in the dark and all. I'm impressed. I didn't know I was such a good teacher.”
“I'll come closer next time,” Ward said. “You can still leave.”
“And miss the sight of your intestines steaming on the floor between your wide- open legs?”
“I will shoot you,” Ward called. “And next time I'll kill you.”
“You had your chance and you blew it,” Louis said.
“But I have four more chances and you'll have to show yourself.”
“No, Ward. Take my word. That was your only chance. I just didn't think you could shoot that accurately, even accidentally. Beginner's luck, that's all. I've been bit worse, and I'll survive this little nick.”
“You've left some of your DNA on the floor, I bet. I guess that's a good thing for me, but not so good for you.”