Time of Death (27 page)

She phoned for a cab, waited a few minutes, and went out on the porch. The orange Pacer, looking a sickly mustard color under the streetlights, was still at the curb where she’d waved goodnight to Schultz. She found him sleeping behind the steering wheel, head back, mouth open, snoring for all he was worth. PJ knocked on the passenger’s window and was rewarded by his sudden, jerky awakening during which Schultz smacked his knee on the steering wheel.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She was touched that he’d waited for her.

“What does it look like?” he said gruffly. “Get in, I’ll take you home. You sure gab a lot with your friend. I was expecting maybe ten minutes.”

She used her cellphone to cancel the cab. At her house, Schultz followed her in without a word, and started fixing up the couch with a knit throw and a toss pillow.

“What’s the deal?” she said.

“The deal is I’m sleeping on the couch.” He kept his face averted, uselessly rearranging the throw and pillow.

“Suit yourself,” she said, and climbed the stairs. Her legs were so tired she envisioned them sheathed in stone.

Thomas’s room was directly across from hers, with the bathroom at the end of the hall. She flirted for a whole two seconds with the idea of soaking in a hot bath before deciding to just crash. She could already feel her head sinking into the pillow. Eyelids heavy, she turned into her room and snapped on the light switch.

PJ heard a sound behind her, but didn’t process it very fast. It was unfamiliar, sliding and metallic.

A sword!

She whirled around. Standing behind her was a costumed creature with shaggy, brown fur. It was wide at the shoulders and its face had insect-like eyes. Her breath stopped in her lungs, and her heart nearly stopped with it. Her body tingled with the sudden flow of adrenaline, and her stomach was on a free-falling elevator.

“I have come for Vyzer Lok and the vibrocrystal,” the thing said in a flat, mechanized voice. “Where have you imprisoned him?”

The sword that was fastened to the creature’s arm lifted menacingly. It gleamed in the light coming from her bedroom. PJ was defenseless, except for her words.

She was shaky and her voice came out in a whisper. “Why should I tell you?”

The creature froze in place. Evidently this wasn’t part of its script. Then it advanced on her, the sword pointed at her belly.

“Leo!” That was all she had time to shout, because after that her whole attention was on ducking away from the creature, running into the hall so hard she smacked into the wall, and ending up in Thomas’s room. She slammed the door and locked it. “Leo!”

The door splintered, and the sword protruded through, barely missing her.

No weapons here! Gun’s in my room!

Frantically PJ looked around for something she could use. Everything was happening so fast. There was no time to think!

The blade withdrew from the door. In its place, a hairy hand tried to push through the door, but the hole was too small. PJ’s eyes alighted on one of Thomas’s prize possessions: a
Star Wars
Millennium Falcon made of die cast metal. She ran to it and yanked the foot-long, heavy model off its display stand.

The sword smashed through the door again. This time, a large part of the center of the door gave way. She heard a snuffling sound, almost like it was trying to sniff out her location. She stood to the side of the door, and when the questing hand came through, she bashed it with the Falcon with all her strength. There was a yelp, and the hand quickly disappeared.

Cautiously she took a look through the hole in the door, just in time to see Schultz running down the hall yelling, a battering ram in boxer shorts.

She tugged the door open, and there was Schultz struggling on the floor, trying to pin the sword arm. Her heart thudding in her throat, now deathly-frightened for him as well as herself, she circled around so that she could get near the creature’s head. She had to do something, and fast.

They were tangled together and moving rapidly. When she had an opening, she took it, and brought the Falcon down on the creature’s head.

Schultz flopped off the still form, and lay on his back, his chest heaving.

“Jesus Christ,” he said through gasps for air, “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Did I kill it?” PJ stared at the unmoving, giant insectoid in her hallway. She felt tremendous relief that it wasn’t Schultz lying there, wounded or worse.

Schultz rolled over, wincing, and felt for a pulse. “Nah, he’s alive. Too bad. Go call 911. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

She started to walk away, holding her side. A diving roll wasn’t the best thing for healing ribs and multi-colored contusions.

“Wait,” he said. “Give me that spaceship, just in case.”

“You’re not going to do anything rash?”

“What? Oh, of course not. I got better things to do than fill out endless paperwork for squishing a bug.”

On the way to the phone, her legs almost collapsed beneath her, and she felt nauseous. She’d allowed herself to think about what could have happened if the bug had encountered Thomas alone in the house instead of two determined adults.

Her mind awash with bloody visions, she punched 911.

Schultz asked PJ to get him his pants that were draped over the couch after she finished calling the police. He didn’t particularly want to greet his fellow law enforcement officers in his underwear in the hallway of his boss’s house. She was kind enough to bring his shirt, shoes, and shoulder holster, too.

Weapon in hand, he approached the unconscious bug and tugged on the head portion of the costume. It didn’t come free until he groped around in the hair and found the zipper. With the elaborate mask removed, the two of them got their first real look at gronz_eye. It was a shock to discover that he was at least forty years old.

“Thomas will be interested to know that,” PJ said. “Should I call him tonight?”

“It can wait. Geez, what’s this guy’s story, anyway?” Schultz said. “This costume must cost a month’s worth of my salary. It’s got to be custom made. Doesn’t he have anything better to do than play online games, like have a life?”

“Maybe that is his life,” PJ said. “He could have formed such a strong identification with this character,” she gestured at the costume, “that he withdrew from the real world.”

“I wonder if he has a wife and family and a regular job.”

“He might. People with fantasy lives like this are amazingly good at hiding them.”

He dropped the costume hood and stepped back a few feet, watching the man warily. Schultz held his gun at his side, but ready to use in case of trouble.

“I have to say I admired what you did here,” he said. “You delayed him and did some quick thinking with that space ship. Then you stepped right up when I was fighting the guy and whacked him. That was brave.”

“What did you expect me to do? Run away screaming and leave you alone to get sliced open?”

He shrugged. “I was winning. I would’ve had him pinned if you hadn’t taken care of things first.”

“Uh huh,” she said. “Look, I don’t want to get into some kind of pissing contest here, Leo. I don’t have the equipment for it, for one thing. For another, I was scared shitless. I don’t see anything brave about what I did.”

“People doing brave things are always scared shitless. If they aren’t, they’re just plain stupid.”

The doorbell rang. “Patrol car’s here. You get the door and I’ll make sure our bug doesn’t crawl into the woodwork.”

While the scene was being processed, Schultz phoned Dave, Anita, and Lieutenant Wall and left messages for them, explaining briefly what had happened. On the messages to Dave and Anita, he added that PJ was officially on recovery time and not to disturb her. All messages were to be channeled through him for the next twenty-four hours.

While he was on the phone, he saw the splintered wood door being carried out. It shook him up, knowing that she’d gone through that alone. As soon as she’d gone upstairs, he’d taken off his clothes, flopped on the couch, pulled up the blanket, and fallen asleep. He didn’t know exactly what woke him up. It wasn’t the fact that she’d yelled for him, which she said she did. At least, not consciously. He’d awakened with a terrible fear that something was wrong, fear strong enough to propel him up the stairs to check on PJ. He’d seen the figure standing in the hallway just as it plunged the sword through the door. Enraged with the idea that PJ might be on the receiving end of that thrust, he’d charged down the hallway, ready for a battle to the death. It sounded trite as he thought back on it, but that’s exactly what he was prepared for at the time.

Then he saw PJ, or at least her feet, and relief flowed through him like a cool, mountain spring, dousing the anger that had been kindled when he saw the intruder. His training took over, and then it was just a matter of subduing another violent criminal. He was getting the upper hand when PJ’s feet shuffled closer. Before he could shout at her to get away, she swung something at the bug’s head, and the body underneath him went limp.

It was a brave thing for her to do, and he’d complimented her on it. What he didn’t say was that it was a foolish thing. Her approach distracted him from what he was doing, and probably put both of them in greater danger. That sword could have sliced through her legs or across his throat.

He knew why she did it. It was the same reason that he charged the formidable-looking creature with no thought for his own safety: love.

I’d die for her. I’d kill for her.

When the bug was handcuffed and taken out on a stretcher, his face and form immortalized in numerous crime scene photos, and. the last tech was out the door, Schultz took PJ upstairs. He needed to care for her, to do things for her, and she let him. He gently removed her clothes and pulled a nightgown over her raised arms. The sight of her bruised body disturbed him. It was too reminiscent of the battered wives he’d dealt with over the course of his career. He gave her Tylenol since her pain medication from the hospital had run out.

He put her to bed, took off his clothes, and crawled in next to her naked. He held her hand and stared at the dim shadows on the ceiling cast by a nightlight until he could hear her rhythmic breaths of sleep. Only then did he allow himself to close his eyes. In moments, he was asleep at her side.

Schultz awoke to pale light coming through the windows.

Dawn.

She was awake, watching him. “It’s half past five. In the afternoon.”

Sunset, then.

She cuddled next to him, and he noticed that she was naked, too. “Do I detect a certain naughtiness in your attire?” he asked.

“You mean my lack of attire. Definitely naughty.” Her hand stroked him and very quickly, his erection tented the blanket.

“Mmm,” she said, “looks like you’re up to the task.”

“What task?”

In answer, she put her leg over him and then sat up, straddling him. She slowly lowered her hips. He slid into her warm, moist embrace, and there were no words left to say.

S
CHULTZ WAITED IN HIS
car while PJ went into a convenience store. They’d been heading to work when she’d spotted the store and asked him to pull in, saying she had to buy something that was none of his damn business. He knew enough to park and wait meekly in the car while she purchased whatever it was that women bought when they said things like that.

PJ walked out the door, but stopped and started fiddling with something in her bag. Schultz had taken the opportunity to fill up his gas tank, and he was still parked at the pump when she came out. He heard the roar of an engine, tires squealing, clutch popping. Swiveling his head, he couldn’t spot the approaching vehicle, but he knew it was there. The sound was unmistakable.

I’m gonna get some punk for dangerous driving.

He turned the key and started the Pacer, while reaching for his radio. He was going to ask Dispatch to send a traffic cop. Schultz’s days of writing tickets were long gone, but a guy could still have a little fun.

PJ stepped down off the curb into the parking lot. From out of nowhere, a black Blazer roared toward her.

It was too late to get out of the car and knock her out of the way. He’d never make it in time. He honked the horn, and she looked at him and waved cheerfully.

The Pacer was idling. He threw it into gear and lurched forward, leaving most of the car’s rubber on the pavement behind him. PJ finally noticed the Blazer, and leaped back on the sidewalk in front of the store. The car pursued her, swerving crazily and almost losing control, and ended up ready to ram her through the plate glass windows.

The Pacer’s front bumper crashed into the passenger’s side of the Blazer. Both cars jumped the curb. The impact threw Schultz forward, but he’d only struck a glancing blow to the Blazer and he didn’t completely lose control of the Pacer. His seat belt, something PJ had recently talked him into wearing, bit painfully into his abdomen but kept him in place. The Blazer’s front end nosed into the window, and a shower of glass exploded into the store. The two vehicles came to rest.

Schultz looked at the driver, who was wearing a ski mask. Their eyes met. He couldn’t make out anything, not the color of the eyes, nothing. The driver’s gaze held his for several seconds, then suddenly the Blazer was moving. It was in reverse, dropped roughly off the curb, and pulled away from the collision site. The driver yanked the wheel around and sped away, missing the rear end of the Pacer by inches.

Schultz looked over at PJ. She must have tripped, because she was sprawled on the ground, the contents of her bag widely scattered. Two customers were on their way to help her, and the store clerk was in the doorway with a phone in his hand. Store customers were gathered around those who had been injured by flying glass. He hesitated, since procedure said his first duty was to protect and aid the injured, but there seemed to be plenty of help already at hand. PJ sat up, looked at him, and waved at him furiously to follow the Blazer.

That’s my gal.

He backed off the curb, hearing a scraping noise from the undercarriage, and maneuvered to the parking lot’s exit. There was a break in traffic, so he didn’t slow down. He threw the Pacer out onto Chouteau Avenue, turned sharply, and sent the rear wheels into a wide slide. He corrected for it and stepped on the gas. He could see the Blazer ahead of him, and strained to get a look at the license plates. He called for backup, describing both Blazer and situation, and tried to keep the fleeing car in view without doing anything to endanger other drivers. Schultz rumbled for the magnetic rotating beacon to slap onto the roof of his car, until he remembered it was on the floor in the back seat.