Chapter 64
One of the reasons Morris had brought Parker along was because the dog acted as an early alarm system. This started backfiring on him when night critters started coming out and Parker began chasing after them, making sure to slow down just enough so he wouldn’t catch any of them. When one of these critters almost led Parker off the cliff, Morris decided that was enough, and he brought the dog inside Stonehedge’s home. It was after eleven then. The actor was still up and he made prime-rib sandwiches for all of them, and brought over bottles of Czech beer for himself and Morris.
Stonehedge asked, “Given how busy your killer’s been earlier this evening, you still think there’s a chance he’s coming here tonight?”
Morris took a long drink of his beer before answering. “He didn’t do what he wanted to do. He’s frustrated. Even though we kept the Pences out of the news, he must know we found their bodies and that we’re onto him. The guy’s not very bright, but he’s still smart enough to know that’s why my daughter left LA. Whatever he has planned, he’s going to try to do it tonight while he still can.”
“And you think that’s to kill me?”
Morris shrugged. “I’m not sure who he’s planning to target next, but whoever it is, it’s to send me a message.”
Stonehedge considered this as he chewed on a mouthful of his sandwich. “I hope you appreciate my letting you use me as bait,” he said.
Morris smiled thinly. He would’ve much preferred Stonehedge to leave town until the killer was caught, but when he suggested that the actor flatly refused, claiming he wasn’t going to let himself be chased out of his home by a lunatic. The real reason was that he wanted to be part of the action.
“Yep, and I also appreciate the sandwich and beer,” Morris said. “This is damn good prime rib and damn good beer.”
Stonehedge beamed. “I get the prime rib specially made for me by Fernad’s, which makes the best in LA. I had that beer in Finland two years ago while shooting Dangerous Alliances. Ever since I’ve been having cases shipped to me.”
Their conversation became muted after that as they both slipped into their private thoughts, and when they were done eating, Morris suggested Stonehedge turn in for the night.
“If he’s waiting outside, he’s not breaking in until after the house goes dark.”
Stonehedge somewhat reluctantly agreed, and headed off to his bedroom suite. He would be locking himself up and he also had a .38 caliber pistol Morris had brought for him. If the killer was going to get to Stonehedge, he’d have to get through Morris and Parker first, and if he was somehow successful, he was going to be in for a surprise once he faced a loaded .38.
Morris cut the lights throughout the house and settled in for the night, taking a sofa in the great room, while Parker lay next to it. When he took over for Malevich, he had told the LAPD homicide detective that he would cover a double shift, which had been more than okay with Malevich.
It was maybe an hour later that Parker sat up abruptly, his ears straight up. Up until that point Morris hadn’t heard anything, and he whispered for the dog to stay where he was. When he reached for Parker’s collar, the bull terrier bolted away. Morris was off the sofa and pulling his service revolver out of its holster as he ran after the dog. He heard the fierce rumbling of Parker’s growling, and then a yelp and what sounded like a door being slammed shut. After sitting with the lights out for an hour, Morris’s eyes had adjusted to the dark of the house, and as he turned a corner he saw a glint of metal swinging at his head. He ducked the blow and drove his left fist into what had to be the killer’s stomach. The killer let out a loud oomph, and that was followed by his body hitting the hardwood floor. Morris continued after him, but tripped over the crowbar the killer had thrown at his shins.
As Morris picked himself up, he heard Parker growling and barking furiously from a room somewhere behind him. He next heard the killer scrambling to his feet and his footsteps leading away as he fled deeper into the house. Morris followed after him and saw the killer’s outline in the moonlight shining through one of the windows. He swung his revolver toward him.
“Get on your knees now,” Morris growled, his voice hoarse.
Something round and hard hit him in the shoulder, screwing up his aim. The killer had led him into Stonehedge’s game room, and had thrown a billiard ball at him. Something instinctual caused Morris to duck as another billiard ball whizzed over his head. The killer used the opportunity to charge him, swinging a pool cue at Morris’s face. He dove at the killer’s knees and upended him. There was another loud oomph as the killer crashed to the floor.
Morris felt a twinge in his left knee as he got back to his feet and turned around. The killer was already running away and Morris grunted as he started after him, the twinge turning more into a slicing pain. He heard the killer go through a side door, and Morris fought against the pain as he followed after him. Once he was outside he heard the killer’s footsteps crunching on gravel before seeing him silhouetted in the moonlight. As Morris ran, he took aim and fired. The killer fell to the ground, but was quickly up and running again, although not as fast as before. Morris wasn’t sure whether he had hit him, or whether the shot had simply scared him, but whichever it was, the killer was moving at a slower pace. It was now more of a fair race. Even with the slicing pain in Morris’s knee, he was gaining ground. He slid his gun back into the holster. He didn’t need it. He was going to catch the psycho bastard.
The killer was no more than thirty yards up ahead when he reached the gate and struggled to pull himself over it. Morris slowed down to a jog. He used a security code to open the gate.
Morris stepped onto the road and could see the killer laboring badly to get away. It wasn’t going to happen. He took another step, and out of the corner of his eye saw a flash of something moving toward him, and then he was lifted up into the air and rolling over the hood of the car that had struck him. In a dizzying whirl, he bounced off the pavement and everything went black for a moment. His body ached everywhere as he struggled back to his feet.
He fell back to one knee. The car that had hit him was gone. So was the killer.