KnockOut (24 page)

GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Thursday

Savich held Sean close, smoothed his fingertip over his boy’s left eyebrow. He felt such blessed relief that he was all right. Sherlock was tickling his ribs. Sean was laughing and yelling at Astro to save him. Astro was jumping on them, yipping his head off, his tail whipping back and forth so fast it was a blur.

Savich smiled over at his mother, who stood close, watching and smiling too, a plate of chocolate-chip cookies in her hand. Behind her stood Congressman Felix Monroe from Missouri, a widower of ten years, and he too was smiling as he watched. Savich didn’t know the congressman well, since he’d just begun seeing his mom. Savich felt funny about it but knew he shouldn’t. He looked over at his mother, saw the worry in her eyes that she managed to hide from Sean.

Dillon? Are you there? Where are you, Dillon?

Savich said, “Sherlock, take this monkey, stuff a cookie in his mouth. I’ve got to take a call.”

“Autumn?”

He nodded.

“Thank God. Go, Dillon. Hey, sweetie, let’s go scarf down some of your grandmother’s cookies, okay? I can see Felix is drooling for some, too.”

“Astro loves cookies,” Sean told Felix. Sean considered Felix cool since he’d showed him how his iPhone worked.

“Your mom’s right. I do too,” Felix said. “Your grandmother makes the best I’ve ever eaten.”

“But you can’t give Astro any chocolate, Sean, it’ll make him sick.”

And naturally, the first question out of Sean’s mouth was “Why?”

Savich walked swiftly from the living room, down the hallway toward the kitchen, and into the half bath on the main level of his mother’s house. He closed the door, then closed his eyes for the simple reason that it immediately cut all distractions.
Autumn? Are you all right? Your mom? Ethan?

He saw her then, clear as day, her back pressed against a wall, her legs drawn up to her chest, her hair in a tangled ponytail, tear streaks dried on her pale cheeks. She didn’t look hurt, but she did look wrung out.

Tell me what happened.

Blessed guessed I called you before, Dillon, back at Ethan’s house. He told me he’d kill Mom and Ethan if I called you again, so I couldn’t take a chance until now. We’re in a motel somewhere. I’m in the bathroom. I heard him tell Ethan and Mama that we were going back where I belonged. I don’t belong at that bad place with my grandmother, do I, Dillon?

No, of course not. I won’t allow that, Autumn. Neither will Ethan and your mama. Tell me how you managed to call me now.

Blessed wanted to go to sleep, so he tied Mama and Ethan to chairs. I think he was afraid if he left them and went to sleep he couldn’t control them anymore. He locked me in the bathroom, told me he’d know if I called you, but I don’t believe him. He doesn’t know, does he, Dillon?

No, he doesn’t know. It’s all right.
Thank God Ethan and Joanna were alive.
Good, Blessed’s asleep. Is Grace there?

No, Dillon. Grace is dead. Ethan shot him with his rifle.

One down.
Do you know where this motel is? Did you see the name of the motel?

She thought and thought. He saw tears come to her eyes.

Too much, too fast. She was just a little kid, a couple years older than Sean, and here he was questioning her like he would an adult. But again, he saw she was looking thoughtful, focused. He felt a strong pull of affection for her, and admiration. She was smart, she had grit. Even this young, she hadn’t frozen.

Did you drive a long time, Autumn?

I don’t know, Dillon. I slept because I was so tired. I think Blessed did all the driving. I don’t know why he didn’t have Ethan or Mama drive. Maybe you can’t drive when you’re stymied.

That’s possible. Tell me about the highway you were driving on. Was it big? Lots of lanes going both directions?

Yes, it’s real big, with a million cars. Blessed pulled off an exit and bought us some Wendy’s hamburgers, then he looked at a motel across the road, but he shook his head and drove onto this old road. He pulled up to this motel.

Did you see the name of a town?

I don’t think so.

Did you see the name of the motel?

She frowned and her fingers began to fret.
I can’t remember it, just some old sign—it’s orange and some letters are missing.

If only he could help her remember.
Autumn? I want you to close your eyes and listen to my voice, okay? Don’t worry about Ethan or your mama, don’t worry about anything, just try to relax and listen to me. Will you try?

She nodded, then cocked her head to one side and obediently closed her eyes.

Good girl. Now, get comfortable, that’s it, lean back against the wall, put your hands on the floor, and pretend you’re floating in a swimming pool.

Bless her, she did exactly what he said. He saw her small hands, palms up, on the cracked linoleum floor beside her. He watched her fingers uncurl.

Autumn?

Yes, Dillon.

That’s really good. Now, you were eating your hamburger. In the car?

Yes. Blessed went in and brought back bags of food. I was sitting in the front seat beside Blessed. Mama and Ethan were in the backseat. They were just sitting there, like they were dead, but they’re not—

He saw her breathing hitch, saw her stiffen up.
It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. Your mama and Ethan will get through this. That’s it, just don’t worry about anything right now, listen to my voice. That’s right, that’s good. You were eating, all right? Did you have mustard on your hamburger?

No, Dillon, I like catsup, lots of catsup. I squeezed a whole bunch from those little plastic packets, more than Mama usually lets me have. I know it’s bad, but—

A little more catsup is all right, your mama wouldn’t mind. Was your hamburger good?

It was real good. Blessed was eating a hamburger too, and a bag of french fries, but he didn’t put catsup on them. All Mama and Ethan did was stare straight ahead and eat. I wanted to talk to Ethan and Mama, but when I turned around they didn’t even look at me.

I know, sweetheart, I know. Now, Autumn, Blessed started up the car again, right? And he drove away from the highway.

She nodded, never moving.
Yes. He drove us down this little road, but just a little ways. Then he smiled, and he pulled into this bumpy parking lot and stopped the car by the office. He has a horrible smile, Dillon.

I know. I’ve seen it. What kind of car are you in, Autumn?
He held his breath, this was right out of the blue, he couldn’t really expect her to know, to even under—

It’s a white van. He had Ethan steal it out of somebody’s driveway not long after we left Titus Hitch.

Okay, you were sitting in the front seat in front of the motel. Did you see a sign?

Yes.

Describe it to me.

It’s kinda old, a real ugly orange color, and the sign isn’t hanging exactly straight.

Now, the name, look at the name. Can you read it?

It’s two words, but I’ve never seen them before. I can’t read them.

Picture it in your mind and show it to me.

Where had that come from? And then he saw that orange sign, couldn’t believe it, but there it was, bright and clear right before his eyes. She was right, there were some letters missing.

L
IZ RD’S
H
IDEA AY
.

He’s coming, Dillon, he’s coming! He’s going to know and he’ll kill Mama—

No, he won’t. Look up now, Autumn. That’s right. Everything is fine. Go wash your hands in the sink. Keep washing until he comes in and sees you. You went to the bathroom, okay? You’re fine, sweetheart. Go.

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER
when Savich and Sherlock walked to his Porsche, he heard his boy singing at the top of his lungs in an off-key duet with his grandmother. It was recognizable—Bobby Darrin’s “Beyond the Sea,” the closing song to one of Sean’s favorite movies,
Finding Nemo
. Even though he was hyped, nearly running, Savich turned back and smiled when he heard Felix’s baritone join in.

His Porsche roared to life. He was backing into the street when Céline sang out “Nature Boy.”

He said into his cell, “Savich here.”

“Ollie here, Savich. Lizard’s Hideaway is in Tennessee, thirty miles from Chattanooga, right off Highway Seventy-five. What do you want to do?”

Good question.
“It’s too dangerous to send a fleet of local cops to the motel; they might end up shooting each other or Autumn. I think Blessed is driving home to Bricker’s Bowl.” Savich knew he was the best person to bring Blessed down.

He said, “Ollie, how about you get some agents from the Chattanooga field office, have them follow Blessed but emphasize they’re not to be seen, and they’re not to try to take him down. Okay?”

“You got it. Now about the car they’re in—”

“A white van; I don’t know the license plate number.”

Ollie was silent. “Okay, we’ll get the highway patrol involved. When we identify the van, we’ll have agents follow them.”

“Good. Call me as soon as they’re spotted. I want to know where they are all the time, okay?”

“Not a problem.” Savich heard Ollie draw in a deep breath. He knew it was about Lissy and Victor, and he knew he wasn’t going to like what Ollie said.

“I’ve got an update on Victor and Lissy. Dane called to tell me a resident living three blocks from Arlington National Cemetery phoned 911 about a hysterical neighbor boy who’d run over to her house shouting that his parents were bleeding all over the kitchen floor.

“The dad will survive, but the mother is iffy, headed for surgery. Of course their car was gone, a red 2007 Chevy Cobalt. The little boy said the car is real pretty and shiny. His mother calls it Honeypot.” Ollie’s voice broke. “This shouldn’t have happened, dammit. We’re going to get them, Savich.”

“Thank you, Ollie. At least we have the description and the license plate. Keep in touch.” And Savich punched off his cell and told Sherlock what had happened.

“Honeypot,” she said, shaking her head. “Thank God that little boy isn’t going to be an orphan. Thank God Lissy didn’t try to murder him too. But his mother Dillon, I can’t stand it.”

Savich thought it made more sense the child had been upstairs and Lissy simply hadn’t known he was there. He didn’t credit her with a crumb of conscience. He found himself praying for the mother to survive.

He said, “Lissy and Victor aren’t going to give up, Sherlock.” His fist hit the steering wheel. “It’s my fault, that family is all my fault, no one else’s.” And he knew in that moment he had to make one of the most difficult decisions he’d ever have to make, but not right now. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Four hours later, Céline sang out “Nature Boy” again.

Savich and Sherlock were in the CAU on the fifth floor at the Hoover Building. When Savich punched off, he said to Sherlock, “That was Agent Cully Gwyn. Lissy was spotted at a Kmart north of Winnett, North Carolina. He and Agent Bernie Benton are covering Victor’s apartment building in Winnett. He wants to know what I want him to do.”

“You know what to do,” Sherlock said.

And Savich made his decision.

WHEN ETHAN WOKE UP,
for one terrifying moment he didn’t know who he was. He only knew he wasn’t where he had been, and he was now someplace different, someplace he didn’t recognize.

Memory flooded back. He was Ethan Merriweather, and he’d been—away. He felt a spurt of fear, then forced himself to think, to remember. He had a rip-roaring headache, and it pounded so hard it was difficult to focus, but he did, and he remembered. He saw himself at the campsite in Titus Hitch Wilderness, remembered whirling about, bringing his Remington up fast to shoot Blessed but not fast enough. Blessed had gotten to him. How much time had passed? What had Blessed made him do? Something inside him didn’t want to know.

He saw sunlight coming around the edges of the draperies. That meant it was daylight, but how late? He knew he’d slept and awakened back into himself. So what did that mean? Blessed couldn’t hold him beyond a certain number of hours? Sleeping broke the hypnosis, or whatever it was?

Joanna and Autumn.
They had to be all right if he was; surely he wouldn’t have hurt Joanna, but he could have. Blessed could have told him to do anything and he’d have done it as fast as he could and to the best of his ability. Even murder. It was in that moment he realized he was tied to a chair, his hands behind his back, nearly numb. He tested the knots. They were solid. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his head and studied the room.

Cheap dresser, ugly brown draperies, threadbare and dirty, covering a set of skinny windows. The brown-painted door looked like a kid could shove it open. It smelled like air freshener.
A motel.
He was in a cheap motel.
Where?

He heard slow, even breathing behind him. At first he didn’t understand—it was Joanna and she was probably tied to the chair behind him, still sleeping or unconscious.

“Joanna?”

No answer. He worked his hands more but the knots held.

He heard a movement off to his left, turned his head quickly, and nearly groaned with the slicing pain in his head. Blessed stood not six feet from him. He looked taller than Ethan remembered when he’d been propped against the wall in his guest bedroom, a bullet wound in his shoulder, his mad eyes blindfolded to protect anyone who looked at him. Ethan froze, quickly looked down.

“You’re awake, are you? No, I won’t stymie you, but I could, real fast, you know that.”

“Ethan!” Autumn ran to him and threw herself against his chest. “You’re awake. Are you back again, Ethan?”

“Yes, sweetheart, I’m back.”

“But maybe not for long, Sheriff,” Blessed said.

Ethan said quickly, “Where are we?”

“You’re in a lovely motel tied to a chair. The woman is tied to the chair behind you. She’s still asleep. Don’t worry about her; she’ll come out of it when she’s ready to. It’s interesting that you woke up first. Usually women wake up faster. Grace always says—” Blessed broke off, swallowed once, then again. He rubbed his shoulder where Savich had shot him.

Ethan said, “You need to get that bandage changed, Blessed, or you might die of gangrene. It still hurts pretty bad, doesn’t it? And how about your arm where Joanna shot you?”

“I’ll be a lot better than you’ll be when this is all over.”

“I saw him take lots of aspirin,” Autumn said.

Blessed walked to Joanna, slapped her face lightly. “Come on, you bitch, face me.”

Autumn jumped back from Ethan and hurled herself at Blessed. “Don’t you dare call my mama a bitch! My mama isn’t a bitch. And don’t you hit her again, you hear me? You’re a monster, you’re crazy. Leave Ethan alone. Leave my mama alone!”

“Now, now, Autumn, child, calm down.” Blessed’s voice had gone all low and soothing, but that sounded bizarre to Ethan, and evidently to Autumn too. Ethan could hear her hitting him, hear her panting, then Blessed must have grabbed her. “Calm down, Autumn, or I’ll stymie the sheriff right now.”

Silence.

He heard her fierce little voice: “Don’t you stymie him again! Don’t, or I’ll run away from you, I’ll hide, and you’ll never find me.”

“I can always find you.”

“Then I’ll go hide in another place and then another and another until you’re dead. You’re old, you’ll die soon. Don’t you dare stymie Ethan again!”

More silence, then Blessed said, “All I have to do is tie you up, little girl. Don’t threaten me.”

Ethan twisted about in the chair so he could see them. There was fear in Autumn’s voice, and rage, and hysteria, building. She started to hyperventilate, and then she was crying, ugly, tearing sobs.

Blessed wasn’t deaf; he heard it too. Ethan heard the desperation in his voice as Blessed said, “Stop breathing so hard, stop it. And stop crying.”

Autumn cried harder.

“Oh, all right, all right. If the sheriff doesn’t try to do anything stupid, I’ll let him be, but only as long as you do what I tell you to do.”

Autumn stopped crying. She started to hiccup.

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise. But you better keep your word or I’ll run and hide from you.” Ethan knew a hysterical child was the last thing Blessed needed. Autumn hiccupped again, but it sounded—it sounded like a fake hiccup to him. Despite the blasting pain in his head, Ethan smiled. She was an incredible kid.

“Sheriff?”

It was Blessed, and he was standing just off to Ethan’s right side. “Your head hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“Get him some aspirin, Blessed.”

“Let him suffer, I don’t have—”

Autumn did it again, the too-fast breathing, a single pathetic hiccup, and Blessed sighed. “All right, Autumn. You just stay still, all right?”

“I won’t move,” she said to Blessed. She stroked Ethan’s hand.

The kid was playing him.
Good.
She wound her skinny arms around Ethan’s neck, and he whispered against her cheek, “You’re on a roll, kiddo, but be careful, all right? Blessed isn’t stupid.”

He felt her nod. When Blessed came back, she straightened and said, “You’ve got to untie him so he can take the aspirin.”

Ethan groaned. Unlike Autumn, he wasn’t faking.

He felt the pull of Blessed’s fingers as he worked the knots at his wrists. Soon they fell away, not that it mattered much since he couldn’t feel his hands. Ethan slowly brought his arms in front of him and began rubbing his hands together, then shaking them. Slowly, they started to tingle and he began to feel them again. His fingers throbbed and ached, but it didn’t bother him all that much because his head was about to explode.

“Don’t even think about coming after me, Sheriff. I won’t let you live next time. Here’s your aspirin.”

Come after him?
As if he could, since his feet were tied. Ethan took the aspirin and dry-swallowed them. He looked at his watch. Eleven o’clock in the morning. But what morning?

“What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

Okay, good.
He’d slept a few hours at most. He closed his eyes and sat very still, waited for the aspirin to do something good.

Autumn said, “I want you to untie my mama too.”

A beat of silence, then Blessed’s voice, irritated now: “No, the bitch stays—”

Autumn screamed at him, “My mama’s not a bitch! Don’t you dare call her that, ever again!” She sounded wild and out of control. She flew at him, hitting him again and again. Ethan heard Blessed curse under his breath, heard him say, “All right all right, I’ll untie her. Calm down, stop acting crazy, you hear me?”

Acting crazy?

Autumn sobbed again, whispering through her tears, “Untie my mama.”

Ethan thought the kid should be in the movies.

Blessed tried to sound tough, but he fell short to Ethan’s ears. “Maybe I will, but if she tries anything, she goes away again. I mean it.”

“Just untie her.”

He heard Joanna moan.

“Don’t you stymie her, Blessed!”

Ethan said, his eyes still closed, “Get her some aspirin, Blessed; she’ll need it bad.”

A minute later, Autumn said, “Here, Mama, here’s some aspirin. I got you some water so you don’t have to choke them down like poor Ethan.”

Joanna let her put the aspirin in her mouth and the glass to her lips.

“Untie her, Blessed.”

Blessed, looking harassed, untied her hands.

“Mama, let me rub your hands for you. That’s better, isn’t it? Ethan? Are you feeling better yet?”

“Yes,” he said, and surprisingly, he was. “Joanna?”

“I’m here, Ethan.” Ethan felt the chair move, and knew Joanna had picked Autumn up and was rocking her.

He heard Blessed walking toward him. He didn’t look up, which was stupid, really. He looked down at Blessed’s boots. He had small feet for a man. Ethan said, “Your boots are dirty, Blessed.”

“Yeah? Well, you should see yourself, Sheriff, and the—woman.”

Ethan knew Autumn was opening her mouth to blast him. Blessed had made a fast save. Ethan said, “What happens now, Blessed?”