Choke: A Thriller (8 page)

A dingy apartment complex in a run-down neighborhood.

Vincent knocks softly on the door of Apartment 114.  There is no answer.  With his gun drawn, Vincent tries the door, it's locked.

He looks up and down the hallway.  It's empty.  He rears back and kicks savagely at the door.  His heel leaves a huge gouge in the door, but it stands firm.  With savage purpose, Vincent rears back and kicks again and again and again.  At last, the door splinters and Vincent pushes it open.

Vincent works his way through the apartment in complete darkness.  His gun is in his hand.  He sees a light at the end of the hallway and slowly goes toward it.

The last room is a bedroom, with a single bed and night table.  There is a framed newspaper article on the table with a small light spotlighting it.

Vincent picks up the frame.

The article is about the crash.  When he was in high school.  The roads were wet, it was storming and although he hadn’t been drinking, his passenger, Kristin McCullough, had been.  He’d lost control of the car, gone over the guardrail into the river.

He’d made it out.

Kristin hadn’t.

Vincent is staring at the article.  It makes no sense.  Kristin was an only child.  Her mother died of cancer a few years after Kristin’s death.  The father died after that from a heart attack.

More importantly, neither parent had blamed Vincent.  The storm had washed away part of the road along with the guardrail.

And Kristin had been drunk.

So who was doing this to him?

Suddenly, the phone rings.   It rings several times as Vincent stands still in the darkness until the machine picks up.

“Hi, it’s Miles.  I can't come to the phone right now.  Just leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.”

The machine beeps.  There is a beat, and then Miles Lucas's voice comes back on.  But this time, it isn't a recording.

“Vincent.”

Vincent nearly jumps at the sound of the voice.

“Come on, Dr. Keyes, I know you're there.  Remember how I said it's easy to keep track of someone with a few high-tech toys?  Well, I know you're there.  I also will know if you try to call the cops when we're done here, okay?  Pick up the phone.”

Vincent crosses the room and takes the phone off the hook.

“Let them go, Miles.”

“Now why would I want to do that?”

“I don’t know why you're doing this,” Vincent said.  He took a deep breath, then said it in a rush.  “But this isn't going to bring Kristin back. She died in that accident and it wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“Interesting theory, Vince.  But you know, I'm having an awfully good time.”

Vincent reconsiders his approach.

“Is that how this all makes you feel?  Good?  That's it?  You're going through a lot of trouble, you must be disappointed.”

“Fuck you, Doc.  I've had enough of your psychobabble.  Listening to your bullshit about visualization techniques.  God, you are a pompous motherfucker you know that?

“You seem to be the one craving attention.”

“All right, I'm through fucking around.  I'm proud of you, Doc.  You've come a long way from that incident in your car where Rachel had to turn off the ignition because you were too chickenshit to do it.  God, you were pathetic, quivering like a schoolgirl.  Just like old times, huh?”

“That's what you want?  To see me scared?”

“And you did well figuring out it was me, I must say.  Could you tell it was me by the way I swung the crowbar?  Yeah, I figured that was it.”

“Miles.  Here's what we're going to do.  You're going to trade my daughter and ex-wife for me.  Once you let them go, you can do with me what you will.”

“Nice try.  I can already get you to do what I want and still keep them.  The thing that interests me is if you can pass the next test.  I'm going to kill them both in the next half hour.”

“No.”

“Oh, yes.  I'm going to kill them unless you come here and stop me.”

“Where?”

“That's part of the test, too, Doc.”

“You are sick.  You need help.”

“I just want to see you try to overcome your anxieties, your phobias about performing under pressure.  Look at it this way, if you try but don't succeed, at least you tried.  That's really a victory in and of itself.  For you, at least.”

Miles laughs.

Vincent looks around the apartment, spies a crude desk:  a coffee table piled with bills.

Most of the bills are from the Valley View Tennis Club.

Vincent looks through more bills, but comes up with nothing else.  He looks again at the address.

Annabel and Bonnie are huddled together in the corner of a locker room.  Their hands are bound, but the duct tape has been removed from their mouths.

“We have to try to get away,” Annabel whispers to her mother.  “He'll kill Daddy.  Just like he did Rodney.”

“Stay positive, honey,” Bonnie says, trying to make her voice sound calm, and knowing she is failing miserably. “We'll get out of here. The police have to know we're missing by now.”

“Mom, we have to try.”

“I know.  I've got the tape on one of my hands loose. But be quiet, just in case he comes back.”

“Mommy, are we going to die?”

“No.  We're not going to.  Your father taught me how to do this, visualize ourselves getting out of here.  Be positive.  Talk yourself into doing it.  We have to believe in ourselves.”

Detective Ponko is in front of Vincent's house.  There is an army of squad cars surrounding the house.

Ponko's superior, Lieutenant Reynolds, approaches.  He is an older man, gray hair, and a ruddy complexion.

“Talk to me, Detective.”

Ponko consults her notebook.

“Sir, a unit just discovered the body of a Rodney Olis at Keyes' ex-wife's house. Apparently he was the new man in Keyes' ex-wife's life.”

“Shit.  At least it wasn't another sports star.  The media are already chewing our asses,” Reynolds says.  His voice is hoarse, and his eyes are bloodshot.

“There's more.”

“There always is.”

“A unit at Keyes' office said someone claims they saw the doctor take off running with a gun.  We've got an APB out on Keyes.  He is armed and dangerous.”

“This guy is one nutcase.  And a shrink himself!  Go figure.”

“Not so fast, Lieutenant.  I think there's a good chance Keyes isn't the psycho here.  He gave me a name.”

She checks her notebook.

“A Miles Lucas.”

“He's giving you a red herring.  It's him.  It's Keyes.”

“I haven't ruled it out.  But I checked out this Miles Lucas.  This kid's been in and out of trouble all his life. He grew up in an orphanage somewhere, suffered through some foster homes, got into trouble with the police, and even did some jail time.  Did most of his criminal stuff in a small town called Cedar Groves, a few hours from here.  Care to guess who else is from Cedar Groves?”

“Keyes.”  Reynolds sighs.  “So it doesn't matter if this kid is the main guy or not, because Keyes could be setting him up.”

“Yes, he could.”

“Either way, we gotta find them both.”

“I've got a unit going to Lucas's last known address,” Ponko says.  “They'll radio me the minute they find anything out.”

“Let's hope it's soon.  I've got a bad feeling in my gut about this one.”

She pinches the roll of fat around the Lieutenant's stomach.

“Really?  How can you tell?”

Vincent walks to the front door of the tennis club.  He checks the parking lot.  It is completely empty.

The front door is ajar.

Pulling his gun from his waistband, Vincent enters the facility.

Vincent walks through the reception area.  A desk is vacant, and next to the desk is a pro shop.  Racks of clothes and tennis rackets adorn the walls. 

All is dark.

Vincent walks through an exercise area.  There is a Nautilus system, free weights, treadmills, and Stairmasters.

He steps around a corner and hears a voice.  He drops to the floor.

Crawling slowly toward the sound, he moves down a short hallway and peeks into another room.

It is a racquetball court.  And next to the court is a television, with an announcer talking.

A photo is splashed across the front of the television.

It’s him.

Vincent.

Annabel and Bonnie, their mouths duct-taped shut again, are walked slowly to a tennis court in the dark.  Miles Lucas walks behind them, the muzzle of his gun pressed firmly against the base of Bonnie's skull.

With their backs against each other, Annabel and Bonnie are forced to sit down directly in the center of a tennis court.

The killer takes the tape off of Annabel's mouth.  With his gun pressed against her temple, the killer speaks to her.

“Your daddy's here, hon.”

“Mommy.”

Bonnie tries to answer, but she can only manage a muffled comment through the duct tape.

“Call your Daddy, darling.  He'll come running and save you from the bad man.”

“Daddy,” Annabel says softly.

“You're going to have to speak up, dollface.”

“Daddy,” she says again, a little louder.

“I hate to have to do this; I'm really anti-violence.  But if you're not going to work with me, you leave me no choice.”

Miles takes a knife from his waistband and puts it against Bonnie's cheek.  He presses hard enough so the point sinks into her skin, and a small rivulet of blood starts creeping down her face.

Annabel screams at the sight of the blood.

“That's better,” Miles says.

He then disappears into the darkness beyond the center of the court.

Vincent hears his daughter screaming, and starts running toward the sound.

Detective Ponko is riding with Lieutenant Reynolds in the squad car.  She is on the cell phone.

“No sign of Lucas?  The door was open?”

She listens for a beat.

“Keyes was there,” she tells Reynolds. 

“Any sign of where they might have gone?” Ponko says into the phone.

She listens.

“I don't care if it's just a hunch.  The Valley View Tennis Club?  Give me the address.”

She jots something down and disconnects the call.

“Guys at Mile Lucas’s place found a bunch of bills for The Valley View Tennis Club next to a newspaper article about a car crash years ago in Cedar Grove.”

“Car crash, huh?” Reynolds says.

“Turn right up here,” Ponko says.  “I had a lesson once at that club.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

“Let’s just say it didn’t take.”

Vincent bursts through one of the side doors that opens onto the tennis courts.  He races straight to Annabel and Bonnie.

“Daddy, watch out!”

Suddenly, the lights are switched on, and the entire court is bathed in bright light.

Vincent turns and Miles Lucas is standing along the back wall, his hand on the light switch.  In his other hand is a gun, pointed directly at Vincent.

“Drop the gun, Vincent.”

Vincent places his gun next to him on the ground.

“Step away from them.”

Vincent responds accordingly as Miles approaches.

“I'm proud of you, Doc.  You made it this far.  I gave you just enough credit to figure this much out.”

“Let them go.  Put a bullet in my head right now.”

Annabel whimpers.

“Just let them go.  They have nothing to do with your mother's death.”

Lucas gives Vincent a sick smile.  “Ah, so you figured it out?”

Vincent nods.  “I remembered there were rumors about Kristin having been pregnant, but everyone thought she had an abortion.  I realized that may not have been the case.”

“How dare you even mention my mother?  The woman you killed with your cowardice.  You make me sick.”

Bonnie is working her hands, trying to get them free from the duct tape.  Annabel is crying now, sobbing.

“Believe me, I've never forgiven myself for the accident.  That's why I studied psychology.”

“So you could strut around, acting like a celebrity?  Helping athletes like Vicki Lee and Demetrius?  You're suddenly an expert on staying cool under pressure.  What a hypocrite.  Do you have any idea what it was like to grow up not knowing who your Mom was, and then finding out she was killed by some guy who let her drown?”

“I don't know how
it
felt.  I do know how
I
felt.  And I did everything I could, Miles.  I’m sorry.”

“You're the reason I ended up on the street. I got my ass kicked every night by cops or junkies.  And you're some rich shit in a big house.”

Vincent is silent as Lucas regains his composure.

“You want a chance to save them?” Lucas says, pointing at Bonnie and Annabel.

“Yes.”

“Tell you what I'm going to do.”

Lucas circles around and forces Vincent to step back, away from his gun, then he puts down his own gun next to Vincent's.  He is now between Vincent and the two guns.

“Everything is on the line now, for you.  The only thing standing between you and your lovely daughter is me.  The pressure's on, Doc.  Can you do it?  Can you stay cool enough to-”

Without warning, Vincent charges Lucas who easily sidesteps the attack and kicks Vincent in the face.  Vincent straightens up and Lucas executes a picture perfect karate kick that knocks Vincent backwards.

“Not too good, so far, Doc, but remember, stay positive.”

Vincent gets to his feet and the two men circle each other warily.

“You're going to die an even worse death than Demetrius,” Lucas says.  “Did you like how I chopped off his hands?  Right in your living room.  I almost enjoyed that as much as watching you dry hump Rachel.”

“Fuck you.”

Vincent swings at Lucas, who steps inside the punch and throws three fast body punches to Vincent's midsection.  He then elbows Vincent in the face, and Vincent goes down.  Blood is flowing freely from his nose, which he guesses is broken.

Vincent catches Bonnie's eye, and she looks down at her hands.  Vincent notices that she just about has a hand free.

He lunges at Miles, catching his heel.  He lifts and Miles is thrown onto his back.  He quickly springs up and gives a straight left to Vincent, then sends a flurry of punches to Vincent's face and body.

Vincent lands on the tennis court, a bruised, battered, and bloody mess.

“Oh, Doc.  You never could come through in the clutch, could you?”

Lucas is backing up toward the guns.

Bonnie has her hands free and is creeping toward the guns.  Lucas looks down and sees her.  It is Vincent's chance.

He lunges forward and catches Lucas in the middle of the chest.  Vincent lands on top and starts punching, short vicious blows that turn Lucas's face into a smear of blood.

But the younger man isn't done.  He kicks Vincent off him and rolls free.  They are both equidistance from the guns, and are now between Bonnie, so she is no longer a factor.

“Here's what's going to happen, you little shit,” Vincent says.  It hurts him to talk, and he knows a few ribs are broken.  He clenches his teeth.  “We are both going to go for a gun, but you aren't going to grasp it correctly.  You're going to fumble, you're going to drop the gun.  I, on the other hand, am not going to hesitate.  I am going to pick it up in one smooth, fluid motion and shoot you in the chest.  Because I believe in myself, and you are destined to fail.”

Suddenly, Lucas laughs, but it's a hollow laugh.

They both dive for the guns, and it happens just like Vincent had said it would.  Vincent gets his gun and rises in one swift motion, while Lucas makes a crucial fumble, bringing the gun up a hair later than Vincent.

Vincent takes careful aim and pumps bullet after bullet into Lucas who is thrown back, his gun arm swinging wildly to his side.

Lucas falls to the court, blood spreading in a pool beneath him.  Vincent stands over him.

Lucas is choking on his own blood.

With a final, convulsive heave, blood pours from the younger man’s mouth and he dies, his eyes wipe open.  Vincent rushes to Annabel and Bonnie, and takes the tape off their mouths.

Ponko and the cops rush through the door to the open court.

“Freeze, doctor!”

Vincent puts his arms around Annabel and Bonnie.  They huddle together in a tight hug, looking very much like a family once again.

THE END