CHAPTER 8—A MESSY PREDICAMENT
Black Heart grumbled as she walked down the deserted country road. At any other time, on any other day, someone would have come along to pick her up. Not her, not now. The escape from Rockbridge had been wracked with problems. Her first liability, of course, had been the Bridal Babe. She had effectively rid herself of that particular burden. Once Bridal Babe was out of the way, she figured her life would be smooth sailing from here on out. Wrong! Very few cars had passed her, and none of them had stopped. She figured it was because the state hospital wasn't that far away and their escape had probably been broadcast to the whole world by now. She had to get out of the ridiculous scrub outfit before someone called the police. She would not go back to the mental hospital. No way. No how. She would die first. Ahead of her, she saw a few lights scattered here and there. She was obviously approaching a town of some sort. She hoped there was a hotel or something; perhaps she could then find some unsuspecting person with clothing and a car. She wanted the Donovans dead by dawn.
She walked and walked and walked. With each step, she grew more and more angry and thirsty for blood. She also noted that the lights up ahead were, indeed, from a small motor court hotel. Thank God. She would take whatever she could find. Less than an hour and a half separated her from her targets, and she had no intention of allowing anything to stop her now. She felt the heavy weight of the tire tool beside her. She had almost forgotten she had had the thing. Black Heart would need it. It was a nice weapon, one that brought swift death if wielded properly. She quickened her pace as she set her sights on the dozen or so vehicles parked in front of the small hotel. She felt that her luck was finally changing. This would be the place. Yes. Here she would find what she needed and take it, even if she had to kill to get it. Of course, she had never had any qualms whatsoever about ending a life. Big deal.
Slowly, carefully, trying not to arouse suspicion, she casually walked past each car in the lot. None of them had keys dangling in the ignitions. The people around here weren't as stupid as she thought. Yet, her plans weren't quite thwarted yet. More than one car was unlocked. Steeling glances all around her, she approached a compact car and tried the door. It came open easily. She found the mechanism that would open the hatchback and she was greeted with a couple of suitcases and a small duffel-type bag. Please let my luck hold out for a few seconds more, she thought. She went for the bag first and unzipped it slowly, holding her breath, and keeping her eyes closed tightly. When she opened her eyes to small slits, she could see a few items of clothing inside. Yes. Hot damn. Her eyes identified a couple of tee shirts and some shorts. This stuff was probably something that a person might sleep in. The weather was much too chilly for shorts, but beggars couldn't be choosers. She seized the bag and closed the hatchback. She stood behind the vehicle for a bit, deciding on which room to choose. Someone would have car keys; someone would have her mode of escape.
Led by some type of weird intuition, she chose a door marked with the number three. She had no idea why, but that particular number intrigued her. It appeared to be some type of talisman. Two had always been her lucky number, and tonight she would kill in twos or pairs. Three. The number three had never fascinated her. Perhaps tonight, she would kill in threes. Her victim at the hotel would make her third. Once she faced the Donovans, that kill would only be two. Who would be her third? Jake? She shook her head to clear out the homicidal thoughts for just a moment. She had to get moving if she expected to finish the job on time and thoroughly. She waltzed up to the door and knocked tentatively, as if she were a child trick-or-treating. To her utter amazement and joy, the hotel patron was a woman so very alone. Easy target. She eyed the woman for a few moments, immediately noticing that her clothes would fit nicely. Black Heart said nothing. She entered the room and swung out wildly with the tire tool grasped firmly in her hand. Number three.
* * *
Donovan stood behind his desk for a long time after hanging up the phone. Tonight, it had taken a beating. Even from his vantage point several inches away, he could see the widening crack in the receiver. What is she thinking? What is she doing? The last time she tangled with Black Heart she had nearly died and had then faced months of rehabilitation before fully recovering. The situation had gone from bad to worse in the last couple of hours. Not only was the Black Heart coming back, but she was also bringing along a friend. If taken alone, Loralei wouldn't stand a chance against them. Shrugging off his shock and anger, Donovan began to move. He was running out of time. He flew down the stairs and faced Cody and Monica. He had every intention of demanding Cody's car keys to try and intercept Loralei before she made it back to the city. The other two agents watched as Donovan's expression changed from one of extreme concern to one of recollection. Why didn't I think of that before, he thought. It was simple. His worried focus on his wife had screwed up his senses. He couldn't think clearly.
"Is that tracking device still in my car," he asked suddenly, focusing his eyes on Cody's face. Cody had installed it a couple of months ago during an intense hostage situation. They had needed it to monitor Donovan during a life and death hostage exchange. It was the only way he could communicate with the team. He recalled ordering Cody to tear it down two days later, but as far as he knew, the job hadn't been done. As he stared frantically into the eyes of the younger agent, he hoped that just this once, Cody had fallen asleep at the wheel.
Not wanting to admit that he hadn't followed an order from the boss, he wasn't sure what answer Donovan expected. He then remembered that his wife had taken his car. Something was up. Something bad. "Sure, it's still there, still juiced."
Donovan wanted to kiss him, and he might have if he weren't so pressed for time. "I need to know where the car is. I want the exact location, no estimates. I need to use your car again so I can intercept Loralei. Call me when you have it." He grabbed Cody's car keys without waiting for a 'yay' or a 'nay.' He turned to run out the door, but then remembered something else. "Reroute Jake and Alex to my apartment building. Tell them to stay there and wait. They are aware of the escapes?"
"Oh yeah. We made sure of that," Monica said.
Donovan nodded firmly. Without another word, he was out the door.
* * *
Although it would take longer than she wanted, Loralei was directed toward a detour that would take her around the accident. She had heard Donovan's shouted orders to the state trooper. He fully intended for her to be locked up, but there was no way she would allow that to happen. She slipped effortlessly and silently away from the hectic mess. Some piddly federal agent's pregnant wife was the least of the trooper's worries. The emergency personnel were rightfully worried about the accident and the victims [as well they should be, she thought]; they wouldn't give her a second thought. Of course, she had to consider the other options her husband had at his disposal. What else could he do? He hadn't lied when he said he had connections. She had discovered he had them literally all over the world. He would only have to pick up the phone, spit out his name, and she would be locked up in a drunk tank in some Podunk mid-western town. She had been surprised that the trooper hadn't known him. She pressed her foot to the accelerator. Her need to get back was urgent, and she had no time to dawdle.
The cell phone beside her rang suddenly. She had totally forgotten about it. Easing up on the gas, she blindly groped for the tiny device that made a wickedly loud noise. It was almost enough to split her aching head. She flipped it open and immediately recognized the number. Frank. She came close to ignoring it, but thought better of it. He was already set to strangle her.
She stabbed a button and put the phone up to her ear. "Frank, before you start yelling, would you let me explain?"
"No," he said. "I will not. I know where you are, and I want you to stop and wait for me. I'm not asking, I'm telling you to do it."
She was too stunned by his admission that he knew her location to even notice that he had given her an order as if she were his child instead of his wife. "How do you know where I am?"
"You can thank Cody for that, my love. After this is over, I intend to. Pull over, Loralei, now. I'm coming to you."
* * *
The woman's name was Marisol Lopez. Ironically enough, she owned the compact car Black Heart had raided earlier. If she had known that, she would have waited before thieving the clothing. She decided to take the dead woman's name, but couldn't do much with her identity. She looked nothing like her. She cleaned up the tire tool as best as she could. The last time she had encountered the Donovans, she had shot Agent Kadin. This time, she didn't necessarily want to do the same thing again. Black Heart was creative at times, and enjoyed cooking up new ways of bringing harm upon her victims. The tire tool had served her well. She didn't like the idea of smacking Donovan, well, at least not in the face. He was too cute for it. However, there were dozens of other places that would do nicely.
Black Heart threw the strap of the small bag over her shoulder and left Ms. Lopez behind. She slid behind the wheel of the tiny car and noticed that it was fairly new. It pleased her. It would take her exactly where she needed to go. When she noticed that the gas tank was full, she smiled. A full tank of gas in this minute vehicle would last and last. Her luck was returning after all. She stuck the key in the ignition and brought the motor to life. She pulled out of the motor court and pointed the car in the direction of her old stomping [and hunting] grounds. Three. What a magical number. She thought about making it her favorite.
* * *
Alex and Jake arrived at the tall building that housed the Donovans' apartment. They had yet to get out of the car. Although unafraid, Jake was in no hurry. He couldn't believe he was dealing with this crazy bitch again. Wouldn't she ever go away? After tonight, he hoped he'd never see or have to think about her again. Alex watched Jake curiously. She noticed the distress in his features, noticed the taut pucker of his lips. She had seen this before. He was supremely pissed. If they had just stayed at the hospital for another hour, they would have thwarted the escape, and no one's life would be in danger. Not only that, but she was also aware of the game the Black Heart had played with Jake. He still hadn't quite healed from that.
He looked over at her. "Can you believe this shit, Alex? We're right back where we left off last year. Amazing." He sighed deeply. "Have you heard from Donovan," he asked into the mic.
"Nope," Cody's tinny voice answered. "Not since he left. Unfortunately, he didn't exactly leave wired for sound. Let's just say he was in a tad bit of a hurry when he ran out. I hope he doesn't wreck my car. It's all I have left!"
* * *
After disconnecting the call, Loralei decided to actually listen to Donovan for once. She pulled the car over to the side of the road. Donovan wasn't very far from her. The thought disturbed as much as comforted her. He wasn't exactly happy with her right now, but she hoped he would at least understand her desire to come back. Black Heart was just as much her fight as his. The thought that she had teamed up with Kelly Bartlet was a frightening one. She couldn't sit back safe and snug while her husband risked his life fighting against these evil women. After a period of waiting, just up ahead of her, she saw a set of headlights approaching an exit toward where she had parked the car. She was certain it would be Donovan. She glanced up in the rearview mirror and noticed another car approaching from behind. She attached no significance to it. This was a busy and oft traveled highway, even on Sunday.
Black Heart saw the car ahead of her. It was pulled over to the side of the road. The headlights were on, so she was sure the car was in perfect working order. She also noticed a lone figure sitting behind the wheel. She hoped it was another woman. She reached over to the seat beside her and felt for her tire tool. Blessedly, it was still there. She just might need it. She thought long and hard about stopping, and almost came close to ignoring the urge. But again, something was pushing her forward. Perhaps it would be a good idea to ditch the small car and get another. Lopez's body had probably been discovered by now. If it hadn't, it would be discovered soon enough.
From a distance, Donovan saw the car approaching Loralei. A blooming sense of dread spread from the pit of his stomach up to his heart where it lingered. He kept telling himself that the person could be a concerned motorist looking out for another in need. However, he wasn't stupid. He rarely ignored his gut feelings, and at that point, he was certain the Black Heart had unwittingly found his wife.
Loralei jumped in her seat as the cell phone rang. She grabbed it and stabbed a button nervously. Behind her, the car had slowed and was pulling over. "Frank?"
Unconsciously, his foot pressed down onto the accelerator, he was still quite a few feet away. "Lock the door, start the car, and get the fuck out of there. Don't ask questions, just do it."
Scared out of her wits now, Loralei hit the auto locks and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. The smell of gasoline was all around her. Oh hell. In her panic, she had flooded it. She dropped the phone and couldn't hear Donovan's urgent, insistent voice. She tried to start it again, but still nothing. Behind her, a lone figure got out of a small compact car. Loralei could see it was a woman, and she appeared to be carrying a tire tool. No. Oh no. Black Heart. Black Heart stepped up to the window and grinned when she saw the occupant inside. She had gotten quite the surprise of her life, and it wasn't even her birthday.
"Fancy meeting you here, Mrs. Donovan," she sneered before shattering the window with the tire tool.
Donovan came screeching up behind the other two cars and had barely had the car stopped before he threw the door open. Ahead, he could see Loralei trying to evade her attacker as Black Heart jerked open the door. His feet seemed mired in cement as he ran toward Loralei. She seemed so very far away. He didn't even realize he was calling out her name. He watched in horror as the crazed woman dragged Loralei out of the car. By that time, she saw Donovan approaching at a full panicked run. She took the tire tool and held it up to Loralei's throat, effectively cutting her airflow to half of its capacity. Dizzy now, Loralei tried to throw the witch, but she tightened her hold. Little dots swam before her eyes. She couldn't stand much more of the pressure. Donovan stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed that Black Heart's grip hadn't let up.
"Come on then," Black Heart spat toward Donovan. "Come on. If you so much as take one more step, she's dead. I can do it, you know."
He fixed her with a cold stare, one filled with hatred. I should have killed her when I had the chance. "Let her go. I put you where you were, not her." He fixed an extremely pained gaze on Loralei's face. It was growing darker by the second. She was suffocating before his very eyes. His heart was breaking into a billion pieces. If he lost her now, he'd die. He felt the heavy, satisfying weight of his pistol resting against him. If he could squeeze a shot…
"If you reach for your gun, you bastard, I'll snap her fucking neck. It would be really easy to do right now. Do you want to watch your wife die? I can arrange that!"
"F-Frank," Loralei croaked.
How could she have the air to even speak? He tried not to focus on her struggle for breath. If he lost his head now, Loralei would surely die. "Let her go, Carly, it's me you want," he spat. It took extreme control to stay put, to dicker with this evil bitch from the deepest depths of hell.
"Go, Frank. Go," Loralei managed before losing her hold on consciousness.
When Black Heart felt her victim slumping against her, she smiled. "Poor baby all passed out. I'm taking your permanent piece, but I just don't know where yet. I'll keep her alive for you. Come find her. Find her and die with her."
Donovan made a move to rush toward them, but Black Heart saw it. Utilizing all her strength in her wiry body, she brought the tire tool up against Loralei's throat again. "Stand back. I can snap her throat like twig, and I won't hesitate to do it. Stand down, Donovan, stand down. If you want to have your last moments with her, you'll do it."
His eyes were focused on Loralei's decidedly battered and limp body. The urge to draw his weapon and fire it entered his mind more than once. However, he wouldn't risk putting a bullet in his wife's body. He couldn't do it. There was another way out. The car had a tracking device. Yes. Take the car. I'll find you, and when I do, I'll see to it that you never see daylight again.
"What'cha gonna do, Donovan? I'm waiting on baited breath," she said with a smile. "I promise to call you when we get where we're going. I may even let her talk to you a minute or two before I kill her. Wanna watch me do that, or would you rather I do it right now?"
Knowing he would never forgive himself, knowing that he would never forget this night as long as he lived, he swallowed a huge lump in his throat. "Take her," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. God forgive me, he thought.
Not taking her eyes off Donovan once, Black Heart worked the auto locks and opened the back door. She shoved Loralei's crumpled body in the backseat. She slammed the door and stood looking toward him with the tire tool raised menacingly. "You made a wise decision, Donovan. I'm quite proud of you. But I don't know how your little wifey is going to feel knowing her hubby gave up so easily."
He literally snarled at her. He made another step toward the Black Heart. She held the tire tool in her hand like a javelin. It was pointed straight at Loralei's abdomen. Donovan held his breath and gritted his teeth. No.
"Naughty boy. If I hit her hard enough, I could probably do some serious damage, maybe even cause internal bleeding. Back off."
Struggling mightily with his rage, he stopped and again fixed a murderous glare on Black Heart. For now, Loralei was alive. If he acted on his impulses, she would not survive the night. He kept remembering the tracking device in the car, and prayed that it would lead him to her. A dull ache settled in his heart and in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't watch, but he also couldn't tear his eyes away. He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth as Black Heart moved to the drivers' side of the car. She slid easily into the car and started it with no trouble. As the car sped away, an anguished wail escaped the depths of his throat. It was the roar of a mad man.