First Time Killer (34 page)

He was getting carried away. Like how Livvy got sometimes when she heard something that spooked her. She’d embellish and elaborate, until there was a bogeyman behind every door and under every table. It was all too much nonsense. He’d get to the mall, find Winn and Livvy playing Frogger and eating popcorn. Winn was depressed, he needed cheering up. Just what he told Barb. And Livvy was the top-of-the-line cure for the doldrums, that was for sure.

But the feeling of dread remained lodged in his gut. Rick considered calling Adams. Letting him know his suspicions. What would he say? Winn Hummel, kindly Winn Hummel, curmudgeonly-but-in-a-good-way Winn Hummel, has been gallivanting around, butchering people and chopping off body parts? Adams would lock
him
up. Didn’t matter if Rick had been right about Dimitri, Adams would summon the men in the white coats and Rick would be doing all his future broadcasts from a padded cell at St. Elizabeth’s.

Rick forced himself to calm down, to examine the situation from the perspective of an impartial observer. Did his suspicions about Winn hold an ounce of water? He hoped not. For once, he hoped he was flat out wrong. But it all seemed to fit. After all, who was one of Winn’s victims? Garth the Goth. In Winn’s eyes, the epitome of youth gone bad. Garth had rubbed Winn wrong from the day he’d shown up—antagonized him mercilessly. Winn probably enjoyed cutting off his ear.

Tin Man’s voice on the radio interrupted Rick’s thoughts.
We need to step up. Do something. If you see someone acting strange or doing something you find dangerous, get involved. Don’t sit back and wait for the other guy to take care of the problem. It’s up to us—each and every one of us—to get off our asses and step up to the plate. Take a mighty swing against evil. Don’t let any opportunity go by. If anybody gives you grief, tell ’em Tin Man sent you. We need to take charge of our lives, our world. Save someone today…

Rick’s car shot through the intersection. Traffic seemed to thin out after the light. He glanced at his watch. Another few minutes to the mall lot. Then a minute to park, another three minutes to the arcade. Ten minutes until his theory was proven. One way or the other.

He floored it.

R
ICK BURST THROUGH
the mall doors and sprinted down one of the side halls leading to the main shopping area, dodging groups of shoppers, ignoring shouts at him to slow down. The arcade was upstairs, next to the food court, and the nearest set of escalators was located in the center atrium, next to a little stage set up for community performances. A sign promoting the
February Festival
recital balanced on an easel. He’d taken Livvy to the same show last year.

He cut in front of two elderly ladies and bounded up the moving stairs on the left, leaving several gawking shoppers behind. Two-thirds of the way up, a group of teenagers clogged his path. “Coming through.”

Two boys whirled around, one dropped his soda. The top came off and the liquid splashed onto Rick’s jacket on its way down the escalator. “Hey, man, you—”

Rick streaked by, obscenities in his wake. When he reached the top he paused. The food court extended to his left. Ten or twelve fast food outlets ringed the large eating area where rows of tables provided seating for the diners. The area looked more chaotic than usual. Dozens of chairs had been dragged to the edge of the balcony to afford people a view of the performances below. He scanned the food court, hoping to see Winn sharing a snack with Livvy. Too crowded to see it all from where he stood.

Jogging, he traversed every row, aware of the strange looks he was getting. He wanted to shout out, “lost kid,” but didn’t want to start a panic. If he didn’t find Livvy soon, he’d reconsider. In less than two minutes, he’d searched the entire eating area and come up empty. No sign of them. He allowed himself ten seconds to catch his breath, then sped off to the arcade.

Game Galaxy was located two shops down from the Arby’s, the last restaurant in the food court. Rick had never been inside before, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Livvy started begging him to go. Their twice-annual visit to Chuck E. Cheese was already more than Rick cared for. Dim lighting, plenty of noise, a vague aroma combining root beer and ripe kids. He started on the right of the cave-like arcade and made his way to the back, looking for an adorable little girl with blond curls. His little girl.

He bulled his way through the crowd, hopes sinking with each unsuccessful step. In the back of the arcade, the attendant, a tall, skinny man with wild, Albert Einstein hair perched on a stool behind a glass display case. On the wall behind him, scores of cheaply made prizes hung, waiting to be claimed by eager little ticket holders. Rick headed for the attendant. Maybe he’d seen Livvy.

Before he got there, Winn approached the counter from the left, wallet in hand. “Winn! Hey, Winn.” Rick pushed a couple of teenagers aside and grabbed Winn’s arm, swinging him around.

Panic seized Winn’s face, eyes wide. When he saw it was Rick, his face relaxed a bit, but to Rick, he still seemed jittery. “Hey. What are you doing here?” The sides of his mouth sagged. “Everything okay?” Winn tried to shrug Rick’s hand off, but Rick held tight. The older man’s eyes narrowed.

“Where’s Livvy?” Rick asked.

Winn pointed over his shoulder. “Over there. Saving a machine. I wanted to change a twenty. Don’t like putting such a big bill in those machines. They always seem to eat my twenties.”

Rick dropped Winn’s arm and took off in the direction Winn pointed. From behind, he heard Winn call out, “What’s wrong? Barb okay? Rick? Rick?”

Rick forged ahead, turning sideways to slip through the crowd. His head whipped back and forth, searching for Livvy. With all the larger people around, he knew little Livvy would be hard to spot. “Livvy! Livvy!” A few patrons looked at him, the crazy dad yelling in the arcade. Rick ignored them all. He needed to find his daughter.

“Wait up,” Winn yelled. Rick turned back to see Winn squeezing through the mass of people.

When Winn caught up, Rick said, “Where is she? Goddamnit, where is she?”

Winn’s head swiveled around. Slowly, he pivoted his body in a complete circle. A perplexed look grew on his face. Morphed into concern. Winn’s reaction burned a hole in Rick’s heart. Where was she?

Winn gestured at the machine next to him where a pudgy boy, maybe ten years old, was playing, working the controllers with exaggerated body motions. “She was right here. At this machine. I just left her for a sec—”

Rick grabbed the boy’s shoulder and spun him around. “Did you see a little girl here? Blond?”

The kid brushed Rick’s hand from his shoulder. “Yeah. Left with some dude.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the entrance.

Rick stared down at the kid. “Who? Who took her?”

The boy stared up, then shrugged. “Dunno. Some big dude. Never saw him before. Kinda scary looking.” Then he shrugged again.

The world swam in front of Rick’s eyes. A picture of Sarah Sue, lying in the huge hospital bed, a china doll in a big girl’s bed. Except it wasn’t her face. Livvy’s face, gaunt and pale, poked out above the gown.

He snapped back to the present. The kid had returned to his game. Livvy! Rick opened his mouth to ask Winn if he’d seen a scary dude hanging around, but stopped as he realized Winn wasn’t standing next to him. At the arcade’s exit, he saw Winn high-tailing it away.

Rick bolted after Winn, but tripped over a backpack someone had plunked down in the aisle. He went sprawling, wiping out two pre-teens playing some Mario game. He barked out a terse apology as he scrambled to his feet and took off in pursuit.

At the entrance to the mall, the brightness caught him off guard. He paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Squinted left, then right. Heard the shouting before he saw the commotion.

Thirty yards away in the food court, Winn was wrestling with a large man dressed in a burgundy Redskins jersey. Rick’s heart stopped. Tucked under one of the large man’s arms like a football was Livvy.

Winn was old and out of shape. The large man held him at bay with one arm. Rick streaked toward the battle, screaming as loud as he could. “Help! Security! Someone call the cops!”

As he ran, he saw Livvy’s kidnapper kick Winn in the leg, a vicious blow. The old man went down to his knees, but still grabbed for his assailant. In the blink of an eye, the hulking figure pulled a knife from his pocket, flicked it open, and slashed Winn in the face. Blood sprayed in the air and the shrieks of nearby shoppers fueled the frenzy. Winn crumpled to the floor as his attacker ran.

Rick put it into high gear. He closed to within fifteen yards. “Stop. Stop right there,” Rick yelled.

The monster did stop. And turned toward Rick. He brandished a knife in Livvy’s face.

Rick was near enough to see the panic in Livvy’s eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the eyes pleaded, pleaded.
Save me, Daddy
.

A weird smile grew on the large man’s face. “So, here we are. Recognize me?”

Rick knew that voice. He’d heard it before. Almost daily. But he couldn’t quite place it. Then it hit him. Standing before him, holding his daughter hostage at knifepoint, was a blond, cleanly-shaven, Garth the Goth. With both ears intact. “Garth?”

“You can call me First Time, if that makes you feel better. Let’s face it, you care more about him than you ever did about Garth the Goth.” He sneered. “Ringmaster, my ass.”

“Let her go, man. She’s just a child. Stop this.”

Garth held up his knife in one hand, raised Livvy slightly in his other. “No. You stop. Or I’ll cut her. Bad.”

Rick swallowed, feeling like he was floating in the air, watching the horror unfold from above. He held his arms out. “Okay. Take it easy.” He glanced to the side, saw Winn lying motionless on the ground, a small puddle of blood gathering around his head.

Garth’s face had turned a deep red. When he spoke, a few specks of white foam gathered at the sides of his mouth. “You blew it. Big time. And then you had the balls to badmouth me to all of America. You disloyal piece of shit. I should cut out your tongue right here.” His eyes shone. “Right here in front of your precious daughter.” Contempt dripped from his words.

Livvy’s sobs got louder. Garth shook her, then squeezed. “Shut up. Shut the hell up.”

Rick stepped forward, but froze when Garth raised his blade. “Watch it man. I’m in the cuttin’ mood. Ease back.” Before Rick could respond, Garth touched the tip of the blade to Livvy’s neck. She squealed as a drop of red appeared.

“I’m moving, I’m moving,” Rick shuffled back two steps, concentrating on Livvy. And on Garth. His entire world had narrowed to two people. His daughter and her captor. “Hang on. Don’t do anything rash.” He tried to keep his voice calm, a soothing tone. Buddy to buddy.

An ugly laugh spewed from Garth’s mouth. “Stow it, Rick. I’m immune to your charms. Remember, I heard your shtick for years. It sucked then and it sucks now.”

“Let her go. Whatever your beef is, it’s with me. Take me instead. Hold me hostage.”

Garth shifted Livvy in his arm. “My beef
is
with you. We could have kept this thing going. Made millions. Instead, you ruined it. Without me, the ratings will sink. And the deal will be off. And our fucking equity worthless.” He glanced around, ducked his head. Whispered. “We could forget about all this. Tell everyone this was just a crazy radio stunt. Go back to the way it was? What do you say?”

Crazy. Garth was insane. Where were the cops? Somebody must have called them. An ambulance, too. Winn needed help. Fast.

“Daddy! Daddy! Help me.” Livvy kicked and swung her arms, but Garth the Monster was too strong. Too big. A few ringlets of golden hair flopped down into her eyes.

“I will sweetie, I will.” If he waited too long, he had no doubt Garth would kill them both, just like he’d killed the others. To him, killing people was like swatting flies.

Rick stepped forward. One step. Two steps. Edging closer. “Just take it easy.” He held his hands up, palms out.
No tricks here.

“Don’t you fucking understand English?” Garth licked his lips. The big man’s eyes flitted around. From Rick to Livvy to the escalator on his right.

Rick froze. Would he take off with Livvy? Use her as a shield when the cops arrived? Slash her throat for kicks? “Come on Garth, you don’t want to do this. Let her go and we’ll talk.”

“How does it feel, Ringmaster? Now that you’re not hiding in the studio, spouting bullshit to the masses. Now that you’re about to see your girl…” Slowly, he brought his knife closer to Livvy. Flashed the blade under her throat. “How’s it feel now?” Garth’s eyes bored into Rick’s, dilated and wild.

Livvy’s head jerked sideways and her mouth clamped down onto Garth’s wrist. He let out a yelp and dropped the knife. The little girl clawed wildly at Garth’s face, kicking and thrashing and yelling. Rick lowered his head and launched himself at Garth, butting him squarely in the chest.

The collision knocked Livvy free. Rick heard her cry as he rammed his body into the larger man. Legs driving, he forced Garth back a few feet, until they crashed into a couple of chairs by the glass safety barrier, overlooking the stage below.

Rick wrapped his arms around Garth’s midsection and kept on driving. He had Garth off-balance and wouldn’t let him get his legs under him, couldn’t. If it came down to a match of strength, Rick didn’t stand a chance. He had to rely on his advantage in leverage. He kept driving, but his forward momentum came to a halt. He’d driven Garth back into the glass panel.

The backstop was a boon to Garth. Within seconds, he managed to get both feet on the ground, enabling him to push back. And push back he did. Although he was still driving hard, Rick began to slide backward. He was losing the battle.

Now or never. His one chance. Rick crouched, gathered himself. Then he dipped his shoulder and exploded into his adversary. Garth resisted, then, like a rubber band snapping, he flew backward, hitting the middle of his back on the chrome railing. His upper torso extended out over nothingness, over the atrium lobby below, while his legs pawed the air, searching for something solid upon which to gain a foothold.