All zeroes on the caller I.D.
He showed it to Victoria who nodded once for him to answer. She had them all quiet down as best she could. He pressed the button.
“Hello Leonard.”
Metallic chuckling came through the speaker and a bit of feedback with it. Jaxon pulled the cell phone away from his ear. “Bravo, Detective. Bravo. Unfortunately, you are a bit slow.”
“We’re coming for you, Leonard.”
“Apparently, you aren’t listening,” Worthington said, turning off the voice distortion.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jaxon said. “You’ve got nowhere to go.”
Jaxon heard what he thought was a whimper come over the speaker and then Worthington said, “Are you listening, now Detective?”
A whine and then a howl of pain as Jaxon recognized Reverb’s cry. The line went dead.
He turned to Victoria. “He’s not here! He’s at my place! Come on!”
They sprinted for his car and yelled for a couple more patrol cars to follow. Victoria got on the phone with the SWAT commander enroute and discussed the options. They decided this team would stay in case Worthington was playing them and was actually here. The bomb squad would stay also and search the area for incendiaries and triggers. The FBI would send a team to Jaxon’s place and they should all reach the apartment at about the same time.
Jaxon had the lights and siren on as they worked their way through the early evening traffic. Luckily it was light, but they had to travel all the way from Reston to Annandale. It was taking too long and Jaxon knew they would miss him. Victoria remained in constant contact with her team at the Bureau and kept Jaxon in the loop.
“We’ll get there,” she said.
Arriving at his place, the FBI group getting to his apartment just before them, Jaxon sprinted from the car, racing for the apartment. Victoria and the FBI team yelled for him to stop, but he was going in no matter what. He knew the killer was not here and he knew there was no bomb waiting for him. The only thing he was unsure of was Reverb.
Bursting into the apartment, he ran from room to room. He stopped short of the kitchen and slumped. Victoria came in behind with her gun drawn, the FBI following behind. She saw Reverb hanging from the light fixture in the small kitchen and moaned.
He had been skinned and eviscerated like game, the muscle and connective tissues still glistening in the fluorescent lights. Jaxon pounded the door frame with a fist and turned away. One of the FBI guys swept past and looked over the area.
Jaxon’s eyes moved to Victoria’s whose look of sadness was probably only matched by his own. She touched his sleeve.
“You guys need to see this,” one of the FBI agents said.
Victoria looked past Jaxon and then moved into the kitchen. Jaxon stayed where he was. Victoria called to him and he finally turned and went into the kitchen. He avoided looking Reverb’s way.
A piece of newspaper was ripped from the main page and scribbled in big black letters were the words, ‘Too Late.’ The asshole used a piece of trash to write on. It was like a slap in the face and Jaxon knew it was meant that way.
“Yeah,” he said, under his breath. “We know we’re too late, you prick.”
Victoria suddenly grabbed his arm. “Oh Shit! Maybe he means we’re too late for the kids!”
Jaxon grabbed his phone and dialed the number. With a sinking feeling and everyone silent around him, the phone rang and rang. He hung it up and pulled the radio off his belt.
“Guardian 1, this is Jaxon, over.”
Silence. “Guardian 1, this is Jaxon, do you copy!”
They ran for the cars.
Chapter 44
Leonard David Worthington drove calmly down the street, reminding himself what is was to be a survivor. The scars he bore from the shotgun blasts were badges of honor he wore proudly.
That old fool had thought he took care of him, but he had been sorely mistaken. He had to admit to himself that he had almost succumbed to the injuries, but apparently, he was meant for greater things and somebody had been looking out for him. Too bad the person who had pulled him from the frozen lake hadn’t been as lucky. The man had drowned saving him and there was nothing he could have done about it. Worthington had been too weak to do anything but help himself.
Smiling to himself at the memory, he pulled in behind the police vehicle. He could see the man look into his mirror as his own lights illuminated the interior of the patrol car. Worthington shut the engine off, extinguishing the headlights. He opened the door and stepped to the driver’s window of the car. The officer was rolling down the window.
“Good evening, Officer,” Worthington said. He was carrying a stuffed animal in his left arm. It was a purple unicorn with a bright pink bow wrapped around its neck. The officer looked at it and chuckled.
“That’s not for me, I take it,” the policeman said.
Worthington smiled. “No. It’s for my daughter, Ellie.”
The cop’s smile faltered and Worthington could see some wheels turning in there. The cop suddenly grabbed for the radio. Worthington’s right arm shot up and the can of mace he was carrying fired directly into the officer’s face. Worthington immediately reached in and grabbed the officer’s neck, and with the purple unicorn soaked in model airplane fuel, he muffled the officer’s cries with it by stuffing the unicorn into his face and holding it there until the officer succumbed to the fumes.
Walking into the backyard and through the hole in the fence, he approached the second squad car from the rear. This time, he held the unicorn below the officer’s line of sight and tapped on his window, startling the man. The officer rolled it down. Worthington maced him immediately, and then rendered him unconscious in the same fashion as the first.
Striding to the basement sliding door, he shattered it with a swift kick, the noise loud in the night, but it didn’t matter. He would be in and out within minutes. Commotion from upstairs could be heard as he strode briskly up the stairs. Bursting through the door, he saw the mother directly in front of him, standing with her hands to her face, frozen. He took a step to her and grabbed the junction of the nerve bundle at the base of her neck adjoining the shoulder and applied pressure. She moaned and collapsed, unconscious within seconds, her head striking the floor with a sickening crunch.
The boy came around the corner and paused for a second, staring at him. Then Lucas Harrison charged at him and this surprised Worthington, but nonetheless, it was foolish. As the boy came within range, he moved to his left and brought his knee up into his abdomen, bending him at the waist. His right fist struck the base of his exposed neck and he was down for the count. Worthington grinned and even admired the boy’s foolish courage. Maybe he would re-evaluate the boy’s destiny.
Hearing heavy footfalls above his head, Worthington moved into the hall and turned left into the living room.
And there she was.
The shock on her face only amused him. Of course she would not believe. He knew she had seen a picture of him, but the real recognition came when she saw his eyes. He watched as who he was registered in her mind and then was surprised when she said, “Hello, Daddy.”
Then she ran.
It did no good. He was too quick for her and he cornered her easily. He talked to her soothingly as she
