The blood coated her leg by now, but she was hanging in there. Helen Beck was tough, just like her husband had been. Max would have admired this if it were someone else, but he just couldn’t bring himself to praise the bitch who was spoiling his big plan.
“Spread out,” he said to his men. “Cover all the exits.”
“What about her?” asked Jason. His scorpion tattoo was still on show.
“I’m sure I can handle her.”
As the men dispersed, Max grabbed Helen by the arm. She whined as he hauled her through the old building. It was a shell of the nightclub it was going to be – the ghost of an idea. Helen was about to see many ghosts.
He took her through the main hall and crossed the dance floor. There was dust and rubble everywhere, remnants of the demolition that had been started but canceled at the last minute due to permission conflicts. This had left a gaping hole in the roof and a mess on the floor below, but the building was otherwise intact. Max kicked himself for not having found this place sooner. If it weren’t so obvious a location, he could’ve stayed here the whole time.
Helen kicked and wriggled in his grip, but she didn’t beg or scream. Max admired this, but it was driving him crazy. With her in one hand and a gun in the other, he simply tugged her harder, realizing just how much stronger he was.
They came to a room in the back. It looked like it used to be a security room. Old, dust-covered shelves were nailed to the wall with just enough space for camera monitors. A large metal cabinet was overturned in the corner. But more noticeable than any of this was the smell. It reached deep into his sinuses and threatened to make him puke.
Max shoved her forward. She fell onto her front, a blunt crack sounding in her elbows. Still, she didn’t moan, commendably turning onto her side, where she tried to face him. But her efforts ended as she saw something below the desk. All attempts to remain brave ended right there as she laid eyes on what he’d left for her. A piercing scream escaped her throat.
“See that?” he said, sneering. “That’s one of your missing officers. I must admit, I was surprised to see Chicago PD had given up looking for him. I thought those guys always looked out for their own. Isn’t that right, Helen Beck?”
Helen rolled slowly onto her back, gagging at the sight and the smell. The cop’s body had been rotting there for weeks. The stench was unbearable, and the corpse looked like something out of a horror movie. She gazed up at him, her eyes watering as her wound prevented her from standing.
Max stepped forward.
“This whole time, you’ve been acting like the victim. Like I just swooped in and took your husband from you. But you never stopped to ask why, did you?”
“Why?” she asked now, almost breathless.
“Would you believe it if I told you?” Max knelt in front of her, grabbed her hair, and stared hard into her eyes as he bared his soul. “Because your pig husband was a rapist. His pig friends held her down and watched. They laughed while I had to see it happen. Imagine that – a trained FBI agent helplessly watching as his wife is brutally attacked by rookies.”
“You’re lying,” Helen spat.
“Oh no. It was your husband who lied, and then he paid the price.”
Max stood up, gaining some distance from her. Killing Scott Beck was one of the best, most redeemable actions of his entire life. As he made his way through the list of police officers who had been involved in the deed, Helen had been nothing but a thorn in his side. Seeing her here now was nothing short of satisfying. She was helpless, like wounded prey. It was almost too easy, and that very thought made him wildly uncomfortable.
While Helen lay there bleeding, Max took a couple of steps back until he was in the long, dark corridor. It was empty, but it felt like it wasn’t. He’d been dreaming of this for months. Years. Now that it was here, it just seemed too good to be true.
As it turned out, his instincts were right.