Chapter Seven
The sun was just breaking through the early morning cloud cover when Richard moved Peter's car to the back of a used car lot several blocks away, nervous that it was still too close to their location if discovered where he had previously left it.
After he parked the car, he had another exhausting seizure – further evidence of his declining condition. When he recovered from its incapacitating grip, he felt his thoughts were slower and he became frightened he was losing some of his accumulated knowledge. It was a constant fear of his. So, he looked about for a quick fix.
The only person he saw out in those early morning hours was an elderly nun slowly limping by using a cane. After only the briefest of hesitations, in which he overturned every facet of his Catholic upbringing, he went after her.
"Excuse me," Richard said innocently, jogging up to her side in a relaxed, easygoing manner designed to put his victim at ease. "I'm not from this area and I'm afraid... well, I hate to admit it, but I'm lost."
The kindly woman smiled at his feigned lie of embarrassment. "That is nothing to be embarrassed about, young man. We are all lost until shown the way. Where exactly are you going?"
Richard cringed and put a fist to his forehead, fighting against a sudden headache. "Son, are you okay?" The older woman asked out of concern, placing a gentle hand on his arm.
"Yeah, yeah, I am. I have a doctor's appointment this morning about these migraines, but first I have to stop at this address," he said with a shaky voice as the headache finally started to pass. "It's okay now... it's passing. Sorry."
"Nothing to apologize over. Perhaps, you should sit down. Your coloring is not good at all."
"No, no, I'm okay, really," Richard said with more confidence than he felt. He needed another shot of knowledge and he needed it fast.
"Well, if you say so... do you know the address of the place you are looking for?"
Richard patted his pockets like he was looking for an address, then sighed, "Oh, I left the address in the car. Where's my head this morning? Say, I've got a map in the car, too. Maybe you could help me find it on the map, then I promise I'll leave you alone. Sorry to be such a pain."
"It is no trouble at all. You are lucky that I was going to check on my brother so early this morning or you'd be alone in your search. Not many folks out and about at this hour in this area."
"I really, really appreciate it. Thank you so much."
Richard continued the ingratiating facade as they approached Peter's car. He made sly glances while they walked, checking the immediate vicinity for other people and was pleased to find none.
Richard opened the car door and pretended to reach for the map, but instead with his other hand, he pulled out the taser. He stood, spinning around quickly and stunned the older woman before she had a chance to react at all.
Catching her as she fell, he sat down on the car seat with his legs apart and the fallen nun between them, leaving her to lean against his legs in an upright position. He rapidly moved his fingers around to her neck and began to squeeze hard, cutting off the nun's oxygen supply.
Something within him told him when death was imminent and he moved one hand to pick up the taser again, activating it in order to increase the amount of information transferred through his link to the victim.
As his own muscles reacted to the biting sting of electricity coursing through his system, he felt the awesome bliss of knowledge flowing into his mind and he relished in that euphoria for long moments after the process was completed. Then his increased awareness told him he'd better put some distance between the victim, Peter's car, and himself, so he hurried to slip away unnoticed.
Unfortunately, that last murderous act backfired on Richard, because as he made good his escape, he was filled with even more guilt and remorse than his increased awareness could rationalize away. And he fumed about it all the way back to Peter's location.
oOoOoOoOo
Peter slowly returned to consciousness and sighed in relief to discover he was alone, but that feeling rapidly disappeared as Richard's footsteps pounded down the hall. Peter glanced up with swollen eyelids and made an instant decision as Richard stormed into the room, red-faced with anger and frustration.
Taking the offensive as Richard strode up to him, his eyes glued on Peter's mid-section, eager to use him as a punching bag again, Peter leapt upward, wrapping his hands around the rope. He swung back to gain momentum, then forward.
As he swung forward, he wrapped his legs around Richard's neck, using the added height to lift his rope ties off the hook. Then he jerked hard with his legs, throwing off Richard's equilibrium. As they were falling, Peter shifted again, releasing his hold on Richard and rolled away, employing every bit of his famed athletic prowess to wind up on his feet.
Stunned by the sudden attack, Richard careened headfirst into a pile of junk, falling to the side a few feet from Peter. The detective reached into the junkpile and pulled out a thick, rusty metal pipe, about three feet long, holding it tightly with both hands.
Richard grunted with his impact and stumbled to his feet, wiping a hand to clear blood away from a gash above one eye. He took a few steps toward Peter, before reacting to the potentially lethal weapon in Peter's hands.
"Bravo, Detective Peter," Richard exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "You've got murder glinting in those dark eyes of yours. What makes you so different from me? You saw that I was in a murderous rage and, boom, you flew into action like a seasoned pro. Caught me off-guard... even bloodied my face."
Peter warily watched Richard and knew he didn't have much time. He had to incapacitate Richard quickly or Richard's bigger, stronger, healthier status would overwhelm. His father's teachings filled his thoughts. 'When dealing with a larger opponent, use his own strength against him.'
Richard was still talking and Peter squinted to listen as he planned his moves.
"I have the satisfaction of first blood, though. And second, and third... well, you were there, you remember, don't you?" Richie chuckled.
"Oh, yeah, Richard. I remember everything."
He took a menacing step forward, lifting the pipe a little higher for a stronger swinging range.
"I could just wait you out, Peter. I doubt you could last thirty minutes on your feet. You've taken quite a beating during your visit with me. No food. No water."
"You afraid, Richard?" Peter asked with a low husky voice. "Why are you backing up?" He figured he was within swinging distance when Richard pulled his own length of pipe from another pile. Now, there was a renewed glow of anticipation in his eyes.
"For this!" He laughed. "I know your father is heavy into Kung Fu. So was Cory Nichols and he was pretty good with the staff. Let's see just how good you are."
Richard slowly made a wide arc around Peter as the two men sized each other up. Peter didn't have to wait too long before Richard expertly lunged with the pipe. Peter parried the move easily, then swung upward, clipping Richard in the ribs.
Richard grunted aloud and backed up a few paces, his eyes narrowed in hatred and anger.
"What's the matter, Richard? Can't take what you dish out?" Peter taunted, knowing Richard couldn't handle the slightest comments against his abilities. Richard rushed him right away and Peter batted him with his pipe after moving aside at the last moment, dinging Richie on a crucial elbow nerve bundle.
Peter allowed himself a slight smile as he saw Richard release the hold of his pipe with one of his hands and let the limb dangle for a moment, then clenched and unclenched the hand, working feeling back into it.
"You won't be smiling, Caine, when I'm done with you," Richard whispered.
All humor had left the big man's face and Peter knew he was definitely in a life-and-death battle.
"Stop yakking and let's get to it," Peter whispered back in equal measure and the final battle began.
Peter held his own for a long while, tagging Richard time after time, but as Richard predicted, Peter was in a weakened and injured state and it rapidly caught up to him.
All it took was one sure blow to Peter's already battered ribs and the detective went down hard. The rest was history as Richard walked up and kicked the prone detective in the ribs. Then, he paused and kicked him again, kneeling down to roughly pull Peter's face close to his, completely ignoring Peter's bonds and injuries.
"There! Teaches you to try and pit yourself against a man with the life experience of dozens! With your little stunt, you made me forget why I was so angry with you."
Peter looked at Richard with squinted eyes, unable to breathe and sick to death of the new Richard Petry.
In a moment of defiance, he spit into Richard's face and prepared for the aftermath. Strangely, all Richard did was to wipe away the bloody spittle with the back of one hand, then spoke, "If I could have made it home in time to kill you and take your intellect, as feeble as it is, I would have done so, but I couldn't. Because of you, I killed a nun instead."
He tightened a hand around Peter's neck as he went on, his anger flaring again as he went. "A nun! Damn it! And now – now, she's inside my head, along with Mother! Damn it to hell, I'm fighting a blasted war inside my skull! And it's all your fault, Peter Caine!"
Releasing Peter's throat, he raised a trembling fist, then battered Peter's already bruised and bloodied face before releasing him. Peter dropped to the ground, aggravating almost all of his injuries.
"If I wasn't out covering your tracks, moving your car, then I would have been here to use you when I needed to, instead of her! Damn, damn, damn!"
Richard stood, looking down at Peter with a mixture of hate and disdain as the detective finally succumbed to unconsciousness.
oOoOoOoOo
Peter wasn't sure how long he had been out, but he was finally able to small breaths without fireworks going off in his chest with each inhalation. He was on the floor still, huddled into a fetal position, probably his last protective act done before passing out.
He looked around and was surprised to see Richard standing by the bedroom window with the blanket pulled aside, staring out at the drizzling rain, apparently lost in thought.
Peter was trying to devise a way to escape or overcome Petry when the younger man turned toward him with tears in his eyes. Shock replaced the more imminent need to get away. There was such pain and remorse in an expression very reminiscent of the old Richie. It was a fleeting, solitary glimpse at the old Richie, yet it was tempered with the burden of a much grimmer world in which Richard had created for himself.
"I killed a nun, Peter," Richard said softly.
Peter didn't say anything, only nodded as he remembered Richard's admonition prior to beating the crap out of him. Peter's rage at his pain, rage at Richard's murdering ways, and rage at being bound and helpless to do anything about it made him forget the budding compassion he'd felt at seeing his old friend in such turmoil.
Peter went to speak, but his voice was much weaker and hoarser than he wanted it to sound. He coughed, which flared his injuries into life, but still spoke regardless of his infirmities.
"Along with her wisdom... this poor nun... must have also... given you a bit of a conscience, too, huh? How does it feel to have one again after murdering countless times without guilt?" Peter whispered bitterly, his voice raw with pain.
He knew he'd pay for his words, but right then, he didn't care. Too many people had already died for him to remain silent. Richard's momentary swell of guilt instantaneously transformed into an ugly beast, going from angelic to demonic in the blink of an eye.
Flying into a blind rage, Richard's vicious kick coming and curled into a ball trying to protect those damaged ribs, but ultimately was unable to do much to prevent it, bound with rope as he was.
He braced himself for the impact, but it was still a crushing blow. He felt a rib go as he gagged, trying to breathe, but knowing it was pointless. Nothing was going in or out, nor would it for several moments to come.
"How's that for a conscience, Caine, huh? How's that?"
Peter didn't try to answer him, for he knew speech was beyond him right then. Remaining conscious was very much in question, too. He was paralyzed with pain like he'd never known before. As he lay there, he was surprised to hear Richard admit aloud, "DAMN! Why doesn't that make me feel better anymore!"
Richard paced the confined room, his anger working his body into a frantic frenzy. "No, I am doing this because I want to do it! Because it pleases me to do so. I've been stupid and ignorant all my life! Now, I want to grow smarter. I like it! And I will continue to do whatever I need to maintain this level of intelligence which I've been denied all my life!"
Richard suddenly doubled over, then his muscles went into convulsions and Richard fell unconscious, leaving Peter to wonder what would happen to him if Richard died from a stroke or similar malady. Who would find them then?
Peter spent the next several minutes trying to loosen his rope bonds, still desperate to escape, but before he could, Peter watched dispassionately as Richard finally revived. Richard slowly got to his feet and spoke, though there was a definite shakiness in his voice.
"Detective Peter? What have I done to you? I'm so sorry. I don't want to hurt you... you're my friend. What's ha-happening to me?" he said with his hands pressed to his temples.
"Richie?" Peter asked, swallowing back his pain.
"I can't stop them from doing the bad things, from hurting people like you. They even hurt my own Mom. What's going to happen to me without her? What?" he screamed in a fearful panic.
"You'll survive. You don't have to do it alone, Richie. We just need some help right now. Can you call 9-1-1 on my cell phone?"
Peter hoped to manipulate Richie's more pliable personality into helping him before he disappeared into the steady stream of other, more aggressive personalities.
Richie put his hands to his head and moaned. When he spoke again, the evil Richard persona was back in control. "Don't you get it? The entire world owes me a life and I plan to make up for that debt by taking what I want when I want! And I believe I will start by romancing your partner, Detective Jody Powell! In fact, it's time for you to call her and ask her to come over here."
"I... sure as hell... will... not!" Peter declared defiantly, his hoarse words echoing in the shabby room while curled up as tightly as his bonds would allow, waiting for his pain to dissipate.
"Sure, you will, Peter. At least, you will because I'll be doing it for you. You see, you came to this location and just collapsed. I need her help to figure out what's wrong with you. Good thing today's her first day back on the job after her vacation. I was really starting to miss her."
"You... bastard!"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Pure emotion with no intellectual content whatsoever in your response, Peter. I fear absorbing your intelligence will be a major disappointment to me. Ah, well, I know Jody Powell will not disappoint me like you have. In fact, I can pretty well guarantee that she will love me, one way or another.
"Either she will fall for my charming ways, or she will do what I want because I have you as my prisoner... Of course, that's before I will be forced to kill both her and you. What do you think about that, Detective Peter?"
"I'm... wondering," Peter spat out his words slowly, but with more venom than he thought humanly possible.
His hazel eyes locked onto Richard's leering expression. Blood dripped past swollen lips, but Peter was now oblivious to his own pain with the multiple threats Richard made against his partner and friend.
"I'm wondering... how fate could have been... so fucking wrong when it took Victor and left you here to kill. Victor must be rolling over in his grave. If I weren't bound... "
"YOU LEAVE VICTOR OUT OF THIS!" Richard shouted, spewing spittle in his violent reaction. He took a couple deep breaths before continuing, "Stupid, stupid man! You are bound, Peter, and quite effectively too. Hmm, sometimes I wonder how you ever made detective-grade with your meager powers of deduction. Perhaps, having Blaisdell as a father did have some major advantages after all."
Peter closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath, at least as much as his damaged ribs could allow, trying to ignore Richard's taunts. Instead, he channeled his anger into the closest thing he could manage in the form of a healing trance.
Buying into Richard's madness would only spur him on and ultimately served no useful purpose.
"So, Detective Peter, this conversation has just become moot. And you are boring me. I've got to go get things ready for Detective Jody's arrival. Everything must be perfect for her. And I definitely don't want to keep her waiting for her night of romance."
Richard's threats toward Jody broke through Peter's healing trance and Peter was moving to attack him before remembering he was still bound and injured. His abrupt motion nearly rendered himself unconscious. Richard's next blow to his ribs finished the process.
oOoOoOoOo
Jody came into work and put away her purse. She'd heard that the troops were out searching for Peter since he hadn't showed up for work the past few days. Strenlich had promised her a private briefing on the situation, then he'd been called away to the phone.
It seemed like just about everyone normally in the bullpen was either on the phone or gone. Nothing like a missing cop to put everyone out on the streets.
Her cell phone rang and she answered it. "Powell."
Richie's frightened voice came over the telephone line, then he sounded so different than any previous conversation she'd ever had with him.
"Detective Jody, it's – it's Richie. S-Something's wrong with Detective Peter."
She could tell he was scared by the stuttering tone of his voice, but there was something different about him. However, when he mentioned Peter, all other thoughts became unimportant.
"Why? What do you mean, Richie?" Jody asked, concern giving her voice a hard edge. She'd been gone for the past five days, visiting relatives and helping her favorite grandmother celebrate her eightieth birthday.
"He wanted me to meet him here in this abandoned building, but when I got here, he collapsed. Jody, he's really messed up. Someone beat him up pretty bad."
"Richie, hang up and call 9-1-1. Do it now."
There was no room for compromise in her tone.
"I can't... Detective Peter made me promise not to. Something about it can't be reported to the department yet."
Jody's heart leapt into her throat with his next statement as Richie's voice took on a whispery, scared little boy tone, as if he was afraid what he was reporting was going to get him into serious trouble.
"Um, he really doesn't look very good, like he's in pain. I-I don't know how to help him. I'm scared, Detective Jody."
"Where are you calling from?" Jody asked, softening her tone after she heard the pronounced fear on the other end of the line.
"Peter's cell phone. He's right beside me and said if you promised not to tell anyone where we are, I could call you and you would keep your promise. W-Will you do that for him, Detective Jody?"
Jody closed her eyes as she considered the magnitude of the requested promise, knowing Peter wouldn't ask that kind of thing lightly. "Will you keep your promise to Detective Peter? Otherwise, he said I can't tell you where we are."
Jody's heart pounded with a contagious form of fear transferred over the phone line from Richie. There was a prolonged silence as Jody fought against all the things she knew she should do, then she abandoned the 'should do's' in favor of the 'have to do's' and gave in.
"I promise, Richie, I won't tell anyone. Where are you?"
He gave her the address and hung up. Jody looked around for someone to talk to, but there wasn't a soul who wasn't on the phone or busy. Pacing a bit, she bent down to her desk and wrote a note about her phone call and the address Richie had given her, thinking the note would be her backup.
She grabbed her jacket and purse and took off running. She pushed her way past a file clerk as she headed out the door, not pausing to notice that the woman was dropping off a large stack of case files on her desk... right on top of her note.
oOoOoOoOo
Richard thought his performance on the phone with Powell was eerily perfect, especially considering that less than two weeks before, he'd never considered lying, let alone plotting harm and murder so casually. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he stared down at Peter's still body.
After Peter's little adventures had resulted in a few personal injuries, Richard decided he had been allowing too much mobility, even for an injured man. He now had Peter bound with his arms extended before him as he lay unmoving on his stomach. The rope bindings, which Richard had intentionally tied too tight, were cutting into Peter's wrists, staining the white rope into a macabre blend of deep red, brown and even black.
Imagining the level of pain Peter had to be going through when conscious made his chilling grin widen even more, before it disappeared from Richard's face in a startled twitch.
"NO!" Richie screamed as thoughts of guilt and remorse flooded his mind.
A trio of female voices, now irritatingly predominant, rang out in his head, admonishing him for his various atrocities. Dorina, Camryn and the nun were determined to stop him from abusing Peter any longer.
Covering his ears, he paced the room, shouting to mask their voices. "I DO WHAT I WANT TO DO! I WILL NOT LISTEN TO ANYTHING ELSE BESIDE WHAT I WANT TO DO!"
Stopping abruptly, Richard looked around the silent room, pulling his hands away from his ears, then smiled in sweet relief. Miraculously, the voices had stopped. But it was only a momentary lull, because they began again in full force as if they'd never stopped.
"No, no, no! I will not listen to you. You better stop or I'll do something and it will be all your fault!" he threatened in a frantic shout. They didn't heed his warning and he began pacing again. "Stop it or else!"
Slapping his hands over his ears again, his reddened face scrunched into an expression of pure fury. Looking downward, all he could do was stare at Peter's prone body, prostrated before him. Taunting him, even in unconsciousness, like those teenagers had done back at the precinct right before his magical transformation. Just like those female voices screaming in his head right then.
Richard paused in front of Peter's unconscious body as the voices in his head continued driving him mad as was the slight twitching movement of Peter's arms.
Richard raised one foot as he exclaimed, "Okay, okay, I warned you! I told you to be quiet and you wouldn't! So, now you'll really, really be sorry!"
He stomped down on Peter's right forearm with all of his weight, the sickening crack of broken bone echoing in the empty room. Peter groaned on some subconscious level of acknowledgment of deep pain, but never came close to reviving.
Richie didn't wait around in the room to hear any more reproaches from the voices in his head. He had to put the final touches on the arrangements he had made for Jody's visit.
"Soon, Jody will be mine in a way she'd never imagined. I will make her love me. And if she won't... well, by the time I'm done, she'll be begging for my touch! One way or another, I will have her."
oOoOoOoOo