Chapter Eight – Justice Delivered
Bruno Dante had just returned from St. Elizabeth's hospital, still irritated at Petzini for having pulled him into this cat and mouse game with Irons and his mongrel creation, Nottingham. Straightening his desk, clearing off paperwork, he was annoyed to hear a knock on his door.
"What is it?" He gruffly replied.
The door opened slowly, making him curious who would be entering this way. His men would have brusquely walked in by now.
"Captain Dante?" A woman's timid voice preceded her entrance. A plump, elderly woman holding a colorful bouquet of flowers in a vase smiled brightly as he acknowledged who he was with a nod.
"Someone who is most appreciative of the way you do your job has sent these flowers to you. He wanted me to give them to you personally…saying exactly that." She replied.
"Oh…Well…Thank you very much." Dante found it against his nature to be humble.
"Oh…there's a card, too. He was just very specific about everything." The woman remained a while longer, for this was also the request of the young man.
Dante found the card that had been sealed and opened it.
Who's the stupid bastard now, Captain?
Thanks to your lack of bladder control,
I am free to continue my spree.
Catch me if you can, asshole!
The Lonely Hearts Killer
P.S. Give my regards to Dumlinsky!
Dante's face grew red with his rage. He crumpled the card in his hand even though it was considered evidence. This bastard was not ever going to make it to trial.
"Who placed the order? What did he look like? What was the method of payment?" The questions were spewing from Dante. He knew a lead would not be likely.
"Oh, he told me you would react like this. Asked me to stay for a while…not just leave after the delivery. He was a nice young man…rather tall with short, dark hair…had a bit of a beard…very courteous. He paid by cash." Her smile was really getting to him.
"Anything else?" He asked, gritting his teeth, biting back his rage.
"Yes…He told me to tell you similar deliveries were being made to the Mayor's office as we speak…and to the New York Times, the Daily News, and the Village Voice newspapers…on your behalf."
"DAMMIT! He's gonna pay for this!" Dante grabbed the vase of flowers with both hands, throwing it to the floor. Shattered glass and water burst across his office floor. The elderly woman scrambled from his office in tears.
"ORLINSKY! Get your ass in here." Dante screamed as he crushed the flowers under his feet, trying to destroy every shred of his nightmare that had only just begun.
*****
The hospital elevator movement was interminably slow, lurching in spots before they reached the first floor where the elderly couple and the Hispanic orderly disembarked. Danny and Sara both tensed, ready to make a quick move if their target darted out the elevator at the last minute. Doubts started to enter Sara's head. Had they followed the right person? So far, this man had done nothing to indicate he was their guy. If this was not Randy Wyatt, then she just may have condemned Annie and Ian to death, leaving them vulnerable to attack from the real killer. Her face strained with her guilt. Danny's focus had been trained on their objective. He now sensed her fear and was perplexed by it. In silence, he pleaded with his eyes for her to explain her dilemma, knowing full well that she could not. The elevator sounded their final stop.
The mother and her six-year old boy walked off the elevator toward the garage doors to the right. The tall, dark haired man followed in close pursuit, as if he were with them. He held the door as they entered the garage in search of their car. The detectives followed in stealth mode, prepared to react to any sudden moves. They needed the man to move further away from the woman and the child. Fearing the worst scenario, Danny tried to position himself closer to the woman, so he could pull her to safety. Just as he was within two feet of her, the man shoved the alarmed woman into Danny, knocking them both to the ground. Sara made a dash towards the child, scooping up the small boy and ducking behind a nearby car. No more doubt, they had been in pursuit of Randy Wyatt and he was making his getaway.
Danny helped the scared young mother to her feet, while Sara reunited her with her child.
"Get back on the elevator and return to the hospital. You'll be safe there. Please call 9-1-1. Tell the dispatcher what just happened…and two detectives are in pursuit of a suspect. Can you do this?" Danny asked calmly as he showed his badge. He released the woman after she had calmed down and nodded her understanding. Remarkably, the small boy did not so much as whimper. After they left, Sara and Danny drew their guns from their holsters, following in pursuit.
"He went up this aisle, Danny." Sara whispered.
From here on out, hand signals would be their form of communication. Sara took the far right row of cars and Danny took the left, walking cautiously up the long ramp. The lighting was dim, making it hard to see in the shadows where someone could easily hide. The detectives hoped they could find and arrest their suspect before anyone tried to depart the garage. Wyatt would not let such an opportunity to escape be overlooked.
One by one, they searched the shadows between each car. The search was painstaking and tedious, their anxiety growing steadily, as their pursuit remained unproductive. Had he found another way out of the garage? Would they remain a step behind? Being a step behind meant someone else would die. This was not acceptable. They were coming to the top of the ramp where they would be forced to make a decision on which way to continue. With a killer this deadly, they could not afford to separate. Maybe the blade could help her make the right decision. She only hoped she could trust it.
Just as Danny had passed the third to the last car on his side, a movement in the shadows caused him to turn. As he did, Randy sucker punched him, snapping his head back. His gun went flying into the darkness, skidding to a stop under a car near the top of the ramp. Danny hit the concrete floor, but not before banging his head against the metal bumper of an SUV. Shooting pain exploded in his head. Bright lights blinded him before he collapsed to the ground unconscious and helpless.
Sara heard the commotion too late to help her partner. As she turned to her left, she pointed her gun at Randy Wyatt who now straddled the prone body of Danny Woo. Yanking his head back by his hair, Wyatt threatened to cut her partner's throat with the knife he held in his hand.
"Drop it…DROP IT NOW." He was angry at the bitch. Was she hard of hearing on top of everything else?
"Okay…I'm dropping my gun now…just stay calm." Sara slowly crouched to drop the gun, shoving it under a nearby car. At least now Wyatt would not have access to either of their weapons. Sara looked to her partner, hoping he was still alive. She had heard the terrible sound of his head striking the bumper. Her more immediate concern was to get the knife from his throat.
"Try me, Randy. Why don't you try a woman that can defend herself…or are you a coward?" She taunted, hoping to distract him from Danny.
The bitch knew his name. It wouldn't matter now. She wasn't going to live long enough to tell anyone about him. Look at her…so smug. Just like her…just like mommy dearest. She thought she knew him, too. She was wrong.
Sara desperately tried to recall Nottingham's words about Wyatt. Killing his mother over and over…never satisfied…hated her…disdains all women.
"Tell me about your mother, Randy. What did she ever do to you? Maybe you were just a whining, sniveling brat." Sara could feel the blade burning on her wrist, just waiting for her to command it into action. The colors projected swirling red hues into the dark corners of the garage. Wyatt noticed this, began to laugh without humor, seething with anger.
"What the hell is that, bitch? Your mood ring acting up?" He now stood over Danny's body, taking a step toward her.
"Yeah…red is my 'kick ass' color. Come see what I can do to you, little man." She stepped back up the ramp to gain a more level playing field. Wyatt mistakenly took this for a retreat on her part, feeling more confident than he should have. He followed her up the ramp, keeping his dead eyes on her. Sara continued her ridicule.
"Tell me what Mommy did to poor Randy. Did she punish you, Wyatt? Maybe you deserved it. Maybe you couldn't handle a real woman." With every jeer, Wyatt quickened his steps toward Sara.
"Just keep it up, bitch. You're just like her. I saw you coming on to those two guys…the one in the hospital room…and this poor bastard. You're a liar…a user…just like the rest of them." Wyatt was close enough. He held the knife in his right hand, ready to slash her with her next remark.
"You call that a blade, Randy?" With that, she willed the Witchblade to full armament. The shield snaking its way up her arm, with the blade projecting its length high overhead, glistening in the amber light of its red swirling stone.
"Now this is a blade, my friend." She was a bit sheepish to have borrowed the line from Crocodile Dundee but the look on Wyatt's face was worth it.
"Then again…Maybe size doesn't matter, Randy." Yeah, right, she thought. He was mad now. She could see him being consumed by it.
Wyatt took a step back as the deceiver's weapon suddenly appeared on her arm. He lost his cool for a moment, eyes widening as his jaw dropped. What kind of demon was she? No…this had to be another one of her lies…she was full of deceit. It was an illusion…no more. As he lunged toward her, attempting to grab her armament, the bitch closed the space between them, blocking his arm and jamming her elbow into his jaw. His head rocked back and he saw stars for a moment, tasting his own blood as he spun to his right.
Sara didn't wait for him to clear his head. She had to strike fast. As he rolled to his right, she administered a jolting blow to his middle back with her right leg, sending him toppling down the incline past Danny. Sara raced down the ramp in pursuit of Wyatt who was raising himself up to his knees, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. Sara held the blade high, ready to strike.
Feigning his injuries, Wyatt yanked Sara's legs out from under her as she neared. He pinned her arms as he straddled her. She could feel his acrid breath on her face as he spoke.
"Play time is over, whore. Enough foreplay…Time for the climax."
As Wyatt shifted his weight to pin both her wrists with his left hand so he could plunge his knife into Sara's heart, she raised her right hip, using his own weight against him. He tumbled to his right with Sara rolling on top, reversing their positions. Before surprise could even register on his face, she pounded his jaw with three quick and vicious blows of the Witchblade. The right side of his head was a bloody mess. Wyatt's body collapsed into unconsciousness. Sara rose to her feet shakily, the adrenaline still pumping through her system. Trying to catch her breath, she rolled Wyatt to his stomach and pulled his arms one-by-one to secure the handcuffs behind his back. It seemed Randy Wyatt's luck had just played out.
It was over. It was finally over.
Danny, she thought. Rushing to her partner's side up the ramp, Sara knelt alongside him checking for a pulse. It was faint but there. His breathing was steady. She felt along his skull for injury. He would have quite a headache if the size of the lump on his head had anything to do with that. As Sara was cradling Danny's head in her hands, she could hear some commotion at the base of the ramp near the elevator. Two NYPD police officers had their weapons drawn and were cautiously making their way up the ramp. Sara slowly flashed her credentials that were attached to her hip.
"Detective Sara Pezzini…Eleventh Precinct. My partner, Detective Danny Woo, could use some medical attention." One of the officers raced up the garage ramp to assist Sara with her partner while the other stayed near the base, his gun trained on the suspect.
"Who's the guy down there?" The young officer asked Sara.
"Randy Wyatt…The Lonely Hearts Killer. Make sure you read him his rights."
The rest of the evening became a blur to Sara. She knew the officers had called for a gurney for Danny. He had been admitted into the hospital for overnight observation after going through a battery of tests and procedures. The two officers had also helped her retrieve their discarded weapons. Before departing in the squad car to book a very angry Randy Wyatt in at the Eleventh Precinct, she had stopped at Annie's room only to find it empty.
Her personal bag of clothing had been removed also. She found the note Nottingham had left on the nightstand. A smile spread across her face as she read Ian's attempt at humor and poetry. She had recalled when Irons himself had called Ian his Poet Warrior saying that his mind had been developed with the same enthusiasm as his most extraordinary body…and that he is quite intelligent and well read. She was sure Irons would have insisted on poetry a little more challenging than 'Roses are red, Violets are blue…' so the thought of him composing this children's poem with chicken noodle in it made her laugh aloud. Slipping the note in her pocket, she proceeded downstairs to meet the officers who had Randy Wyatt in their squad car. She had a few more hours in her day to complete the booking report and process the suspect. She rode shotgun in the squad car with an enraged serial killer talking trash in the back. Her thoughts strayed to the smiling face of her long time partner, a nice warm bowl of chicken noodle soup, the sleeping visage of an angel, and the strength of her knight in shining armor.
In the strange and bizarre world of Sara Pezzini, Wielder of the Witchblade, days don't get much better than this.
