AN: Special thanks goes to my beta for her wonderful words of encouragement, awesome proof reading and endless patience. This chapter is dedicated to her and to all my readers who have followed this story. To those who had time to leave me feedback - thank you all for your lovely reviews. We are nearing the end...hope you'll enjoy this longer installment :-)
ACT V: Part 2
4th Street, San Francisco, 1973
Jeannie cringed and counted her lucky stars as the bullet shattered the glass door of the phone booth. Letting go of the telephone receiver, she ran out of the booth and down 4th Street. The pain in her ankle became more bearable and she pushed herself to run faster.
Turning back to look behind her she saw Larson raise his gun, aiming it at her back. The distance to turn into the next side street was still too great and she knew she wouldn't make it before the trigger was pulled. A wide drive way opened up to a large building a few steps away and she cut across the pavement to enter the property, hoping to find an entrance. The front door wouldn't budge as she threw her weight against it. Looking around wildly for another way in, she saw one of the wooden slats that was boarding up a window had already been pried off and lay on the ground. The gap was just large enough for her slight stature to squeeze through. A shot rang out just as she disappeared from the shooter's sight.
Though there were no lights within the building, Jeannie was thankful for the large chunks of roofing that were missing, allowing the incandescent glow of the full moon outside to provide her with all the light she needed. The street lights also filtered through the gaps between the boards across the windows.
Taking in her surroundings, Jeannie could see that she had stumbled into an old disused warehouse. Rows and rows of metal racks and empty shelving stretched across the vast expanse of the building, towering over her. Large broken crates were stacked haphazardly between the rows of shelves and heavy metal scaffolding lined the walls. The sound of wood splintering reached Jeannie's ears. Jerking her head around, she saw Larson clambering through the cramped opening between the wooden planks boarding the window. Jeannie quickly ran down one row of shelving towards a group of wooden crates and hid amongst them. She said a silent prayer and peered around the edge of a crate. Sure enough, Larson was already standing in the very spot that she had been just a few moments ago.
Townsend Street, San Francisco, 1973
Steve Keller put the pedal to the metal and his Porsche tore through the streets of San Francisco until he turned into 3rd Street. He eased the pressure on the accelerator and searched the desolate neighbourhood for any sign of Jeannie. Dividing his concentration between the road ahead and the pavement on both sides, he almost failed to see an elderly man waving him down in the middle of the street. Skidding to a halt, the young Inspector cursed out loud at the close shave. He realized he had reached the intersection to Townsend Street. The hotel where Jeannie was staying at stood at the corner. A small gathering had formed outside the door. Pulling into the curb, Steve pulled the key from the ignition and exited the car. The elderly man he had almost run down rushed toward him.
"Someone shot the hotel manager!" the old man declared as Steve brushed past the group of onlookers to enter the building.
"Police! Stand back please!" Steve called out as he held up his badge. It didn't take long for him to find the hotel manager laying on the ground clutching his bloody chest.
"Has anyone called an ambulance?" Steve looked around at the faces in the crowd but it was apparent from the blank stares and murmured replies that no one had called for help. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes and vent out his frustration, Steve instructed the man closest to him to call for paramedics and police back up then asked the woman beside him to fetch some towels. Kneeling down next to the wounded man, Steve examined the injured site and tried to calm the victim down as best he could.
"He…he….after the girl. Shot…" the wounded man struggled to form words when a racking cough brought forth a frothy crimson liquid.
Steve's heart went out for the man but out of fear for Jeannie's life, he pressed him for more information. "Where is she? The girl? Can you tell me which way she went? Was she with another guy?"
"Outside. I…I think…turned right…right…no guy…" the man recalled but was stopped short when he struggled to draw breath.
"Thank you. Hang in there. An ambulance is on its way, "Steve replied softly then ignoring the barrage of questions and confused stares, Steve rushed out of the hotel and back to his car. Unable to radio for help or to tell Mike that his daughter was in danger, Steve had no choice but to find Jeannie singlehandedly. As he pulled away from the curb he recognized the dark LTD parked nearby which belonged to Inspector Scott Graham. Grimly, he wondered what became of him but the sickening realization that Jeannie was seen on her own confirmed his worse thoughts. If he were alive, Steve knew he'd be with Mike's daughter and she wouldn't be running for her life on the streets. He wished he could go back and search the hotel for Graham's body but with Larson hot on Jeannie's heels, he couldn't afford to waste any more time. From what he already knew of Larson's MO, it was highly unlikely Graham was left alive.
Abandoned Warehouse on 4th Street, San Francisco, 1973
Cain Larson's eyes glinted with malice as he scanned the interior of the warehouse for the young woman he hunted. Where are you, sugar lips?
"Come out, come out wherever you are, college girl!" Larson called out in a sing song chant and whistled. Cold laughter echoed off the grimy walls. "I have something I want to teach you. I bet they don't teach you everything in college. Or do they?" He began to walk from one side of the large hall to the other, keeping his eyes on high alert for the slightest movement or sound. "You know, if you had just walked into that store a minute later, we wouldn't be here. I can't say I'm terribly disappointed. You know what they say about fate, don't you? If you come out and show yourself now, I promise I'll make it good for you too," Larson jeered. When no response was forthcoming, his infuriation began to build. "If you make me chase you, I'm going to get pissed off! I'm going to count to ten then I'm going to find you and when I do, I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget!"
Larson's booming threat caused Jeannie to jump in fright. Tears ran down her face unbidden. She heard her hunter begin the count down and knew she would have to try to outsmart him by keeping on the move until somebody found them. Would Steve know where to look after the phone call she made? She hoped more than anything that Steve, Mike and a team of SFPD units would storm the place before Larson finished his count.
"Two….one. Alright, college girl. You're time is up," Larson shouted.
Jeannie's heart raced and hammered loudly against her rib cage. Taking two deep breaths, she steeled herself for the fight of her life. She wasn't going to sit in the corner and wait for him to find her. She listened carefully as footsteps drew nearer. Poking her head around the crate carefully, she spotted Larson moving down the next row of metal racks. She needed to move. On her hands and knees, Jeannie crawled away from her concealment and entered the next row of shelving only to find there weren't any crates or obstacles for her to hide behind. A word she would never say in front of Mike entered her mind. Crouching low, she crept down the length of the warehouse. Half way down, something dropped onto her shoulder and she covered her mouth to keep from crying out when she saw a large, dark furry rodent scurry away from her. The animal knocked over an empty can which rolled across the floor, under the metal racks and into the isle where she last saw Larson. Panic gripped Jeannie and all she wanted to do was run but she forced herself to backtrack the way she came and use the crates from the isle next to her as cover.
Larson's head whipped around at the source of the noise. Through the dimness, he squinted but he couldn't see the girl. Something nudged his boot. Looking down he saw an empty can at his feet.
When she heard Larson on the move once more, Jeannie got down onto her belly and crawled beneath the next row of metal shelving. The isle she entered this time was littered with crates and scaffolding. Rising to her feet slowly, she cautiously stepped over the metal rods and weaved in between the crates.
Brandishing his gun in front of him, Larson's hawk like eyes caught a shadow move a couple of isles away. Grinning slyly, he pointed his weapon in the direction of a pile of crates and fired two rounds consecutively.
Driving down 4th Street, Steve looked out the window and saw an abandoned warehouse. The sounds of a gun firing was all Steve needed to determine this was the whereabouts of Larson and possibly Jeannie. Stopping at the curb, he climbed out of the car and hurried up the driveway toward the front entrance.
A gasp escaped Jeannie's lips as a searing pain cut across her upper arm. Out of instinct she grabbed the area and felt a warm stickiness oozing through her fingers. Taking her hand away and lifting it to her face, she saw it was smeared in blood. Her blood. Realizing she'd been shot, Jeannie's fear escalated. She fell back against the crates as her wobbly legs became entangled in the metal rods and heavy scaffolding. Before she could free herself the crates began to shift. Her weight pushed them out of alignment and as one fell crashing to the ground behind her, another threatened to fall on top of her. Extricating herself from the metal rods, Jeannie's blue eyes caught sight of a small office area straight ahead, past the rows of shelving. She made a run for it.
Sneering malevolently, Larson sprinted down the aisle then waited at the end under cover of the shadows.
Jeannie raced toward the end of the row of shelving, hoping to reach the room at the far end of the warehouse. As she exited the labyrinthine rows of metal racks, strong arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders and brought her to the ground hard. She screamed but a rough hand covered her mouth while the other pointed a pistol in her face. Larson's larger frame pinned her to the ground. Two more shots were fired and Jeannie's heart skipped a beat as for one heart stopping moment she thought they were from the gun in Larson's hand. Before she could gather her thoughts, she felt herself being pulled to her feet.
The front door slammed open, revealing a young man armed with a revolver. "Hold it! Let her…" before the Inspector could finish, another shot rang out. The pistol flew from his fingers and clattered across the floor, beyond his reach. An angry graze burned the back of his hand.
"Uh-uh. Not this time, cop. No, I'm going to have me some fun here with this pretty little college girl. Stay down or I'll blow her brains out!" Larson threatened.
Steve Keller clutched his wounded hand and kept his eyes on the maniac in front of him. He edged his way toward him and his hostage.
Larson dragged Jeannie backwards, the gun still trained at her head.
"It's over, Larson. Let her go," Steve said slowly in a voice of forced calm.
"Don't come any closer!" Larson shot back as he pulled his hostage with him down one of the rows of shelving.
Steve raised his hands in a gesture of compliance, all the while moving with them down the aisle. There was no way, he thought, that he was going to let Jeannie go alone with a killer, even if it meant risking his own life.
Larson continued to back himself down the aisle of shelving when suddenly his feet tripped over a metal rod.
The distraction was all that Steve needed to make a grab for Larson's gun. One look into Jeannie's eyes and he knew she understood what he was about to do. As Steve lunged forward, Jeannie struggled out of her captor's grasp. In the ensuing struggle the barrel of the pistol pointed directly at the Inspector's face and Larson squeezed the trigger only to find the chamber was empty. Cursing he threw the gun at a fleeing Jeannie, catching her in the back of the head.
Dazed from being struck by a hard object, Jeannie fell to her knees.
Sickened and furious by Larson's attack on Jeannie, Steve drew his fist back and punched the perpetrator in the face. He followed through with another well placed fist driven into Larson's stomach but the hardened criminal wasn't about to go down that easily. Ducking under Steve's next swing, Larson used his strong shoulders to ram the detective into the metal shelving.
Steve felt his head connect with the metal rail behind him, leaving him dazed.
Keeping his opponent pinned against the metal rack, Larson let loose a series of hard punches into the man's unprotected abdomen.
Seeing Steve was at a disadvantage, Jeannie scrambled to her feet and jumped onto Larson's back.
Incensed, Larson twisted his body and attempted to throw Jeannie off him but lost his balance when the girl kicked him in the side of his knee. Falling back against the shelves, Larson reached inside his jacket pocket and drew out his switchblade just as the Inspector straightened himself up.
Eyeing the blade in Larson's hand, Steve gasped two words, "Jeannie, run!"
Jeannie took her cue and turned on her heel just as Larson started after her.
Badly winded and battered from the fight, Steve grabbed a handful of Larson's jacket and grappled with the offender but the next thing he felt was a sharp pain ripping through his side. When he looked down, he realized that Larson had delivered a backhanded knife thrust, slicing him across his lower ribs. His legs gave out as Larson shoved him away and he fell to the ground.
Before Jeannie made it half way down the aisle, Larson ran her down and grasped a handful of her hair, stopping her in her tracks.
Struggling to his feet, Steve lunged forward, ploughing into the taller man who jerked his head back, catching him in the jaw. A sharp jab by Larson's elbow caught Steve in the ribs, doubling him over.
Not wanting to have to let go of the girl and chase her again, Larson decided to finish the job on the cop later and swung his boot into the side of the wounded man's head, knocking him out cold before he even hit the ground.
Turning his attention back to the girl, Larson threw her to the ground then straddled her, pinning her in place. Jeannie struggled to free herself and was rewarded with a backhanded blow to her face.
"Let's see what we have here, college girl," Larson taunted breathlessly as he used the sharp blade of his knife to cut through the fabric of Jeannie's top.
The lustful hunger in Larson's eyes filled Jeannie with dread and she renewed her struggles.
"Hold still you b…" Larson's snarl was cut short as he was yanked to his feet from behind. Swung up against the shelving, his hand was slammed repeatedly against the metal rail until the knife fell from his grasp. Unarmed, the crook shrugged away from the Inspector and slugged him in the mouth then wrestled him to the ground. Reaching across the floor, Larson's fingers found the cool handle of his switchblade. Gripping the weapon firmly, he raised it, ready to plunge the blade into the detective's chest.
Years of training on the force came back to Steve as he drew his knees up and propelled his assailant off him, sending him crashing into the precariously stacked crates behind them.
Larson opened his mouth in horror as the crates tumbled down like an avalanche on top of him burying him beneath their weight and causing his head to hit the scaffolding with a sickening crack.
Rolling away in time to avoid the same fate, Steve then slowly crawled over to Jeannie who struggled to her knees.
Jeannie looked up and threw her arms around Steve's neck when he reached her.
"It's okay, it's over. I've got you. You're safe now," Steve said softly as he held Jeannie in his arms and gently stroked her hair. Pulling back slowly, Steve looked her over for injuries and found blood trickling down her arm where Larson's bullet had grazed her flesh. Pulling out a handkerchief, he used it as a makeshift bandage. Biting back a wince, Jeannie's eyes travelled to Steve's side where his shirt was beginning to seep through with blood.
"Steve, you're hurt!" Jeannie gasped as she reached out to lift his shirt and examine his injury.
"I'll be okay. Don't worry about me," Steve gently pushed her hand away from him. He reached up to touch the bruise on her cheek. A painful lump formed in the back of his throat as his eyes took in the damage Larson had inflicted. Seeing Jeannie this way made him forget about his own injuries and he hung his head in shame, feeling as though he had failed to protect her from harm. "I'm so sorry."
"Hey, look at me. I'm okay," Jeannie replied with a small smile of assurance as she lifted Steve's chin so that his eyes found hers. She moved closer to him brushed his lips with hers. The kiss ended almost as soon as it began as sirens wailed nearby and Mike's hollering broke through the moment.
A panic stricken Mike, followed by a crowd of uniformed officers entered the premises. Relief broke out on his face as he made his way toward his daughter and his partner. "Call an ambulance!" He called out behind him.
"Mike!" Jeannie rose unsteadily to her feet and was instantly enveloped in her father's arms.
"I thought I was going to lose you, sweetheart. I love you so much. Are you okay?" Mike's voice was thick with emotion as he held her. Finally he drew back to take a good look at his daughter. His mouth gaped open at the sight of blood on her sleeve and the swelling to her cheek.
"I'm alright, Mike. If it weren't for Steve…" Jeannie replied as she steered his attention away from her and turned his focus onto his partner who was still on his knees with an arm wrapped around his waist.
Mike let Jeannie go and reached down to help his partner to his feet.
Steve groaned and leaned heavily against Mike, breathing in painful gasps. The Lieutenant gently pulled Steve's arm away from his midsection to examine the wound in his side. "That's going to need stitches. Come on, let's get you both outside. Paramedics should be here any minute."
Leaning against the hood of the tan Galaxy, Steve took several small shallow breaths.
"Are you hurting anywhere else, buddy boy?" Mike asked as he held on to Steve's arm, concern creeping into his voice when he observed the paleness in his partner's face.
"No, not really," Steve replied breathlessly. He knew Mike would catch his lie but he didn't want to admit how badly he felt, especially in front of Jeannie.
"What do you mean not really? What kind of an answer is that?" Mike demanded, feeling both concerned and annoyed.
Steve turned to Jeannie for support but she gave him a look that resembled the one her father was giving him right at that moment. A smirk slowly formed on his face at the striking inheritance and he sighed in resignation, mumbling, "Okay, fine. I'm just a little sore here and there. Will you stop with the interrogation now?"
"Don't get smart with me, hot shot!" Mike snapped in a playful tone, while Jeannie rolled her eyes.
"You asked!"
"And you haven't answered my question! Come on, seriously."
Jeannie smiled warmly as she watched the two most special people in her life carry on with their banter and knew that everything was going to be alright.