'Shut up! I hate to hear a woman curse, hate it, hate it, hate it! You didn't make the center in time, Marty. I've got to punish you now.'
'Just how will you do that, you little creep?'
'Damn you, shut up!' He pulled a hunting knife out of the sheath at his waist. It was a foot long-sharp, cold silver. It gleamed in that dead white light.
'Why a maze, Marlin? Before you punish me, tell me about why you use a maze?'
'It's special for you, Marty, just for you.' He was playing with the knife now, lightly running the pad of his thumb over the blade. 'It's real sharp, Marty, real sharp.'
'Of course it is. It's a knife, you idiot. Not only are you pathetic, you're also a liar. You didn't build this maze just for me. Your little game isn't at all special. You aren't capable of any originality at all. Nope, the same thing over and over. Every one of the women you've killed had to find her way to the center of your maze. Why the maze, Marlin? Or are you too afraid to tell me?'
He took a step closer, then stopped. 'How do you know about all the other women?'
'I'm psychic, you toad. I can read that miserable little brain of yours without trying. Yeah, I'm psychic, as opposed to a psychopath, which is what you are. Why the maze, Marlin? You're afraid to tell me, aren't you? I knew it, you're nothing but a pathetic little coward.'
'Damn you, shut up! I'll tell you, then I'll cut out that filthy tongue of yours and I'll make you eat it before I slice you like a stalk of celery.' He was panting, he was breathing so hard, as if he'd sprinted a good hundred yards. 'My father loved mazes. He said they were a work of art when done well. He taught me how to build mazes. We lived in the desert outside Yuma. There weren't any nice thick green bushes, so we had to build our own bushes, then we had so many, we made them into mazes.' He shook his head, frowned at her. 'You got me off track. You made me change my lines. I've never done that before. I've got to punish you for that now, Marty.'
'I sure hope your father isn't alive. He sounds as sick as you. You said the other women didn't make you change your lines. Why did you punish them? What'd they do to you?'
'Damn you, shut up! Don't you dare talk about my dad! And I won't tell you anything!'
'Bad language, Marlin. You're not a very good role model. Did the women you butchered always use bad language? Or was it because they insulted their husbands?'
'Bitch! Shut up!'
She shook her head at him. 'I can't believe you called me that, Marlin. I hate bad language, too. It makes me crazy, did I tell you that? I'll have to punish you as well. Who goes first?'
He yelled, running at her, jerking the knife over his head.
Savich yelled, 'Down!'
At the same instant, full lights came on. Marlin stumbled, blinded by the sudden lights. So was she, but she knew what to do.
She was already rolling as she jerked her Lady Colt from her ankle holster and came up onto her elbows.
Marlin Jones was yelling, bringing the knife down, slicing it through the air again and again, yelling and yelling. Then he saw her, lying there, the gun pointed at him.
Captain Dougherty's voice came out of the darkness. 'It's the police, Marlin. Throw down the knife and back away from her! Do it now or you're dead.'
'NO!'
'I want to kill you, Marlin,' she whispered, aimed the gun at his belly, 'but I won't if you put that knife down.' Her finger was stroking the trigger. She wanted to squeeze it so badly she felt nausea rise in her belly.
Marlin stopped in his tracks. He stared down at her, at that gun she was training on him. 'Who are you?'
'I'll tell you that in court, Marlin, or I'll wire it to you in hell. How many times did you stab all those women, Marlin?
'Was it always the same number of times? Didn't you ever vary anything? No, you didn't. You stabbed them and then cut out their tongues. How many times, Marlin? The same number as Hillary Ramsgate? Twenty stabs? Keep coming to me now, Marlin, if you want a bullet through your gut. I want to kill you, but I won't, not unless you force me to.'
He was shaking his head back and forth, his jaw working madly as he took one step back, then another. Then, suddenly, in a move so fast it blurred before her, he aimed the knife and released it.
She heard Savich yell even as she jerked to the right. She felt the knife slice through her upper arm. It didn't hit the bone. 'Thanks, Marlin,' she said, and fired the Lady Colt. The impact sent him staggering back, his arms clutched around his belly.
Savich yelled, 'He's down! Hold your fire! Don't shoot!'
He wasn't in time. Sporadic rounds of fire burst from a dozen weapons, lighting up the warehouse with dim points of light. Savich yelled out again, 'He's down! Stop!'
The guns of the dozen police officers surrounding the maze fell silent one by one. They stared at the ripped- up rotted flooring. Incredibly, they hadn't hit Marlin Jones. The closest shot had ricocheted off the side of one of his army boots.
Then the silence was abrupt and heavy.
'Sherlock, damn your eyes, I'm going to throw you from here to Buffalo!'
She was lying on her back, grinning up at him even as he dropped to his knees beside her, ripping the sleeve off his own shirt. The knife was sticking obscenely out of her upper arm. 'Hold still now, and don't move a muscle. This just might hurt a bit.' He pulled out the knife.
She didn't yell until she saw it in his hand, her blood covering the blade.
'Don't whine. It barely nicked you. Hold still now.' He bound her arm with his shirtsleeve. 'I can't believe you did that. I'm going to kill you once you're okay again. I'm going to tromp you into the mat three dozen times before I even consider letting up on you. Then I'm going to work your deltoids so hard you won't be able to move for a week. Then I'll kill you again for doing this.'
'Is he dead, Dillon?'
Savich turned to look at Ralph, who was applying pressure to Martin's stomach. 'Nope, but it will be close.' Ralph said. 'You got him in the belly. The ambulances are real close now. You did good, Sherlock, but I agree with Savich. You nearly got yourself killed. After Savich is done with you, I think I should take you to my boat in the harbor, go a bit out into the ocean, and drown you.'
She smiled up at Savich. 'I sure hope he bites the big one. If he doesn't die, he'll prove he's mad, which he is, and if he gets a liberal judge and easy shrinks then he could be pronounced cured and let out to do it all again in another seven years and then he-You pulled that knife out of me. It sort of hurts really bad now. Goodness, look at all that blood.'
Her eyes simply drifted closed, her head lolling to the side.
'Damnation,' Savich said, and pressed harder on the wound.
He heard two men and a woman calling out, 'Let us through. Paramedics! Let us through!'
Savich took the Lady Colt from her slack fingers, stared down at the little gun that could so easily kill a human being, shook his head, and pocketed it. He didn't touch the bloody knife.
15
SHE WOKE UP IN THE ambulance, flat on her back, an IV dripping into her arm, two blankets pulled up to her chin. A female paramedic was sitting at her feet. Savich was sitting beside her, his face an inch from hers.
He said the moment her eyes opened, 'It's all right, Sher-lock. Mrs. Jameson here redid the bandage on your arm, applied a little pressure, and the wound is only bleeding lightly. You're going to have to be checked for any arterial damage, then have some stitches when we get to the hospital, and antibiotics, but you deserve it. I'm going to tell the doctor not to anesthetize you at all and use a big needle. The IV in your arm is just water and some salts, nothing for you to worry about. I told you, the knife just nicked you, no big deal.'
Her arm burned so hot she was vaguely surprised that it didn't burst into flame. She managed to smile. 'So I'm not to whine?'
'Right.'
Mrs. Jameson said, 'You've got great veins. How do you feel, Agent Sherlock?'
'Really good actually,' she said and nearly groaned.
'She's lying. It hurts like hell. Listen to me, Sherlock. When Marlin threw the knife at you, if you hadn't
