04 The Edge of Darkness (17 page)

THIRTY-FIVE

SHARI’S HEART JUMPED WHEN she heard her doorbell ring. The uneasy feelings she had about being followed and two near-death experiences had made her jumpy. She reached over the edge of the couch and grabbed a baseball bat. Earlier in the day she had taken it out of the closet for security. She hobbled to the door and peered through the peephole. It was Paul Wallach holding two pizza boxes and a bag. She unlocked three latches and let him m, then quickly locked all three behind him.

“These are hot, right out of the oven. I’ve also got drinks in the bag and some cheese bread and dressings.”

“It sounds great. I’m starving.”

He looked at the bat in her hand.

“Planning a little batting practice tonight?”

Shari laughed.

“No. It’s sort of a security blanket for me. I just feel safer when it’s around.”

Paul went into the kitchen and got down a couple of plates. Shari paused at the door and looked outside. Even though she did not see anyone she still had that eerie feeling that something was wrong. She shook her head.

You are getting paranoid
.

She leaned the bat up against the back of the couch and went into the kitchen to help Paul. He wouldn’t let her do anything but go sit down at the small dining table.

Dinner was pleasant and yet a little uncomfortable. Paul wanted to talk about their relationship but held everything inside so as not to pressure Shari. She, on the other hand, was trying to determine if Paul really wanted to change or if this was some kind of passing phase.

At one point Shari shared with Paul her thoughts about being followed and the two close calls.

“Well, aren’t you a Christian? Won’t God protect you?”

“Yes, to both of those questions, Paul. But even Christians pass away at some point. I’m not afraid to die, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to go just yet.”

“Shari, I don’t mean to make things worse, but what if your apartment filling with gas and the near-miss with the car weren’t accidents? What if they were deliberate?”

“That’s a terrible thought!”

“Can you think of anyone who is mad at you or wants to do you harm?”

“No. I don’t think I have any enemies.”

“How about an angry ex-boyfriend?” Paul was fishing to see if Shari had been dating other people during his absence.

“No. I’ve been too busy helping Dr. Murphy to do any dating.”

Paul visibly uncoiled. “Well, let’s try to put recent events behind us and think of something else. How are things going at the Preston Community Church?”

Shari noted that Paul was trying to get into her world and her concerns. In the past, his conversation seemed to focus more on himself.

This is new. Maybe he has changed
.

“Pastor Wagoner is doing a series of messages on false teachers and things involving the occult. It’s quite interesting. You ought to come. I think you’d enjoy it.” Shari was putting out a feeler to get Paul’s reaction to spiritual matters.

“That sounds good. I would like to start going back to church. The people there are certainly more honest than those at the Barrington News Network.” He was obviously still bitter.

“That would be great, Paul. If you really mean it.”

Paul hesitated and then spoke candidly. “Shari, I am not putting on an act for you. I do want to change. And I do want to turn my life around. I just hope you’ll give me a chance to do that.”

“And how about spiritual matters, Paul?”

“I want to see that change also. I may not believe everything you do yet, but I am keeping an open mind.”

“It’s not that complicated, Paul. The Bible tells us that all you have to do is believe in Jesus. That He’s God’s son … that He died for our sins, and that He was raised from the grave to give us new life. And then, just invite Him into your heart.”

Paul nodded his head.

“A person can do that anywhere, anytime. It doesn’t have to be in a church. It could be in a car, or while you’re walking, or even all alone in your bedroom.”

Shari realized that she should not put pressure on Paul. It had to be his decision. Even though she had plenty more to say, she thought it would be best to take it slowly.

“Let’s clean up the dishes and watch the movie you brought.”

“No. You turn on the TV and relax and I’ll clean up. You should stay off that ankle.”

Shari smiled. “You’re the doctor.”
This is a nice change
, she thought.

Partway through the movie, Shari thought she heard a noise. But she couldn’t tell if it came from her bedroom or from the television. Paul didn’t seem to hear it. He was deeply involved in an action scene in the movie.

Shari started to get up.

“Where are you going?”

“I was just going to check something in my bedroom.”

“Can I do it for you?”

“No, I’ll be right back.”

Shari limped over to the doorway of her bedroom and turned on the light. She couldn’t see anyone, and everything was in its place. The window was slightly open and the wind was blowing a curtain back and forth against the lamp shade by her bed. She laughed to herself.

You’re going to go to the psycho ward if this keeps up
.

She went over to the window and looked outside. She saw no one. She closed and locked the window, turned out the light, and left the room.

What she failed to notice was that her closet door was slightly open.

THIRTY-SIX

PAUL HAD GOTTEN UP for another soda while Shari remained on the couch. He was rummaging through the refrigerator trying to decide what to drink. Cherry Coke, Dr Pepper, or a Pepsi.

Shari was still feeling jumpy, so when she heard the slight squeaking sound, it registered that she had a loose floorboard just outside of her bedroom. She glanced in the direction of the squeak and let out a bloodcurdling scream. It startled Paul and he dropped the Cherry Coke he had in his hand. He followed her gaze and his heart skipped a beat.

There in the hall stood a large, thin man dressed all in black, with bone white skin and a black mustache. His eyes burned with evil, sending a stab of fear into Shari. She had never seen eyes like that before. It was like looking into the face of death.

The man entered the living room and something flashed in his right hand. Something sharp. Something deadly.

The stranger’s cold eyes coolly appraised the two of them like a predator deciding which of its prey to devour first. As Shari scrambled up off the couch, the man in black sprung into action, leaping forward and planting a fist into her face.

The blow struck her on the cheekbone and she went backward over the couch and onto the floor. She seemed disoriented and lay there defenseless.

Paul’s ignored the instinct to run to Shari, and instead rushed to the back of the couch, grabbed the baseball bat, and came up swinging. The man in black ducked in the nick of time and Paul hit the lamp on the stand at the end of the couch. The lamp went flying across the room and shattered against the wall.

Paul cocked his arms back, preparing for the next swing. He knew that he couldn’t afford to miss this time. Something about the man told him that he was a trained fighter. He would have to make every blow count or he and Shari were done for. They danced around each other, the man in black first going one way and then the other, looking for an opening. Paul was doing the same thing, mirroring the stranger’s moves and blocking each feint. One good swing, that’s all he needed.

Paul caught a glimpse of Shari on the floor and shouted, “Get up, Shari! Get out! Run!”

His words penetrated her stupor and she struggled to her feet, limped to the door, and fumbled with the three locks. Blood dripped from her cheek and tears streamed down her face. She tried to move faster but it seemed like one of those dreams where you’re trying to escape from a monster but cannot move.

She heard Paul calling out behind her, “Get out, Shari! Run! Run!”

The man in black did not like the idea of her leaving. He circled around the other side of the couch to get her. Paul blocked his way,
brandishing the bat. He could hear Shari behind him screaming and crying and struggling with the locks.

“You stay away from her!” Paul warned.

The standoff continued a few moments more, until Shari unlocked the last latch. As the attacker lunged toward her, Paul swung. The man ducked, reaching for Shari. Paul swung the bat around blindly and connected with the man’s right index finger, crushing it against the molding of the door.

The man in black screamed in pain. Blood spattered all over Shari as she finally got the door open and ran the best she could with a sprained ankle. She was yelling for help at the top of her lungs.

The bat had completely ripped Talon’s artificial finger off his hand. The pain was excruciating and as he stared at his deformed hand, Paul swung one more time and caught him on the back. He slammed hard into the door but was up like a shot. That was the final straw. This kid was dead meat.

He spun around and fired off a side kick into Paul’s gut, making him gasp and fall to the ground. His brain told him he had to get up and he had to breathe but nothing was working. His eyes were wide with fear.

Talon could hear Shari’s voice disappearing down the street. She was screaming and crying for help.

“Call the police! Somebody, help! Call the police!”

People began to open their doors to see what all the commotion was about. Two men approached Shari and she tried to stop sobbing and tell them what was happening. One elderly lady called 911.

Talon had never been this angry before. All he could think about was inflicting the maximum amount of pain.

Paul somehow struggled to his feet. His only thought was to try to escape, not stay and fight. Talon kicked him in the chest, breaking several ribs and knocking Paul over a footstool. He went down hard and was really hurt this time. It was an effort to catch his breath, and the broken ribs almost made it unbearable.

Talon could hear sirens in the background, but he wasn’t through with this punk yet. He kicked him repeatedly until Paul coughed up blood. Talon then struck a downward blow into Paul’s face with his left hand. The wound started to bleed profusely and Paul felt lightheaded. He was finished.

Talon strode into the kitchen, grabbed a dishtowel, and wrapped it around his throbbing stump of a finger. The sirens grew louder and he heard car doors slamming. Talon walked toward the door and retrieved the metal finger that had been effectively amputated by the bat. He walked over to Paul.

“You’re dead. You hear? Look at me! You are dead!”

He grabbed Paul by the throat and held the sharp steel edge of the finger close. Paul’s head lolled to one side. Talon heard footsteps on the stairs, close now. One swift motion and it would be done. He searched for fear in his victim’s eyes, the terrible certainty of his imminent demise, the knowledge that Talon’s sneering face was the last earthly sight he would ever see….

He found none of these as Paul lapsed into unconsciousness.
I could still do it
, Talon told himself.
I could still end his worthless life
.

The footfall of the police storming down the hallway thundered in Talon’s ears.
No
, thought Talon,
why put him out of his misery? Let him suffer a while longer
.

The two police officers made all of the neighbors wait outside. Shari was sobbing in the arms of Mr. and Mrs. Krantz. They lived two houses down from Shari’s apartment and had become like second parents to her.

Several police officers cautiously entered the apartment with their guns drawn. They were shocked at the state of the living room—furniture overturned, the shattered remains of a lamp—clear signs of a massive struggle. Then they saw Paul’s body on the floor, his blood soaking into the thick white carpet.

One officer knelt down beside him and felt for a pulse.

“His heart is still beating but it’s extremely slow. He’s in bad shape. Call for the paramedics at the Kings Crossing firehouse. They’re only a couple of blocks away.
We
have to get him to the hospital as soon as possible.”

“Do you think he’ll make it?”

The officer frowned and shook his head.

THIRTY-SEVEN

WHEN MURPHY GOT WORD about Paul and Shari being attacked in the apartment, he rushed to the hospital. It had been one-thirty in the morning when Bob Wagoner called and woke him up with the news. Several nights a month, Wagoner would work as Police Chaplain for the Raleigh Police Department. They had asked Wagoner to come down to the hospital to be with Shari. As Murphy arrived, he could see there were still three police cars outside of the emergency room. He recognized one of the officers.

Barry Miller was a large man who was definitely in shape. He had a buzz haircut and was clean-shaven. His arms bulged out of his short-sleeve police uniform like they were about to explode. He was taking notes for his report when Murphy came up.

“Barry, how are they?”

“Hello, Doc.” There was no smile on Barry’s face. He stopped writing.

“Shari has a few bruises and contusions, but she’ll be okay I’m not sure about Wallach. They’re—working on him in intensive care. I think it’s pretty much touch and go. Most of his vital signs had dropped by the time he arrived in the ambulance.

Murphy headed to the emergency room entrance and stopped. There were about ten people in the waiting room, but Shari was not one of them.

The night nurse, Clara Jane Moline, was behind the counter filling out some insurance forms. Murphy remembered her well from the day Laura had been brought to the hospital.

“Hi, Clara, I’m looking for Shari Nelson and Bob Wagoner.”

She smiled. “Oh, hi, Doc. They’re down the hall in a small waiting room that families use.” She pointed with her pen.

“Thank you. Good to see you again,” he added as he rushed off.

“You too,” she called after him.

When Murphy got to the waiting room he could see Bob Wagoner and Shari sitting in silence. She lifted her head when he entered, thinking he might be one of the doctors with some news.

She looked a mess. Her hair was disarranged. One eye was black-and-blue and very puffy. There was a bandage on her cheekbone with a large red bruise surrounding it. She looked worn out, like she had been crying half the night, and she started crying again when she saw Murphy. He went over and held her for a few moments. Finally, he asked: “How is Paul?”

Through her tears she tried to speak.

“We don’t know. He’s still in the operating room. We overheard the nurses talking about internal bleeding.”

That was all she could get out before she was crying uncontrollably.

Wagoner looked at Murphy and shook his head. “It doesn’t look good, Michael. There must have been a terrible fight. Paul was beaten
severely He protected Shari and gave her time to escape. If he hadn’t been there and fought the way he did, I’m sure she wouldn’t be alive. He’s been unconscious ever since they brought him in. They say he’s in very serious condition.”

“Excuse me, Dr. Murphy, but could I see you for a moment?” It was Officer Miller. He was motioning for Murphy to follow him.

In the hallway, and out of earshot of Shari, Miller spoke. “Do you know anything about what happened last night?”

“Only what Pastor Wagoner told me when he woke me up at one-thirty Why do you ask?”

“After they took Wallach to the hospital, we stayed around and searched her place for clues. We found a bloodstained note that said ‘Back off, Murphy!’ Do you have any idea what that’s all about?”

“Maybe.”

Miller began to write as Murphy shared what he knew about Talon. He gave a description of what he looked like, and reported that he spoke with a South African accent. He tried to explain his artificial razorlike finger and how Talon used it to assassinate his victims. Miller was shaking his head back and forth as he wrote. This was quite a story.

“Thanks, Doc. I think the crime lab people were able to get a number of bloody fingerprints. They’re also doing a DNA blood analysis to see if there are any matches. With all the blood in there, there’s a good chance that not all of it belongs to Mr. Wallach and Miss Nelson. We think that Wallach may have injured his attacker in the struggle.”

“I doubt if you’ll find any fingerprints or DNA that will match. He’s too clever for that. If someone had ever taken his fingerprints, I’m confident that he would have killed them and destroyed the evidence. This is an extremely ruthless and evil man.”