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Mic stepped into her shower and cut on the hot water letting the steamy heat roll over her tired, aching bones. It had been a hell of a day. She stood in the shower for about ten minutes and for the first time, felt relaxed. She grabbed two large white bath towels and wrapped one around her head and the other around her body. Thank God for Irish whiskey and hot water. I feel like a new person. She toweled her hair dry and slipped on a pair of pajamas. She walked out of the bathroom, into her bedroom and over to the front windows. She reached to pull the draperies closed, but they were stuck. She looked down at the street below and noticed how dark and isolated it was. Her grandfather clock struck midnight and as she turned around to walk toward her bed a sound stopped her. Fear shot through her body. It was the sound of a man clearing his throat. Mic turned quickly and her eyes widened at the sight of a man staring at her from the foot of her bed. She looked into his eyes and was chilled by the reflected lust and cruelty. She saw the knife in his hand.
"Did you have a shower, Detective McPherson? Are you nice and clean now?" The man asked in a low, confident voice. “You smell good,” he said, a lecherous look of his face. He lifted the knife, rubbed his finger against the sharp tip and said, "I've been waiting for you. I’ve waited for hours. What took you so long?" He laughed at her fear as he took a step forward decreasing the distance between them.
Mic was paralyzed with fright, felt her heart race and her blood heat the muscles of her body. Was that a tattoo on his hand? Somehow, he was familiar to her, but she couldn’t think how. Think, Mic, think. You’ve been in situations worse than this. Calm down and think. You can get out of this.
The man took another step closer holding the shiny knife at his side. Michaela backed up until she was almost on top of her nightstand. She slid open the drawer and reached inside, her hand searching for her gun. She tried to shield her search with her body as her fingers covered every square inch of the drawer. Her fear increased when she realized the gun was gone.
"Oh, Detective, are you looking for this?" the man asked, a note of sarcasm in his voice as he reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out her Glock. Mic stared at him as terror spread throughout her body. He was a big, heavyset guy. He probably outweighed her by at least sixty pounds. She quickly realized her strength would be her agility and speed. She also remembered she had a second pistol tucked under her mattress.
She lifted her head and searched his eyes. "Who are you? Who the hell do you think you are coming into my house at midnight and sneaking up on me? What are you, crazy?" Mic’s words were strong and forceful, but her fear was real as her heart slammed in her chest and her knees buckled with fear. She held his eyes with hers, unwavering.
The man smirked at her and said, "I've been here for hours. Before that I was down at your restaurant and bar watching them haul dead people out on stretchers." He smiled at her, an evil smirk on his face.
You’re half of the poison boys or whatever they call you." She noticed his blue shirt. He was the guy at Dottie's house. “Who the hell are you?"
The man stared at her with lust as his eyes raked her body. He remained silent.
"Oh, so you were outside my friend’s house today as well? You surely do get around,” she taunted him. “Looks like we’ve pretty much spent our day together, only you were always looking in... and I was already in,” she said sarcastically.
Snake smiled at her again, a slow sardonic smile.
“Didn’t you ‘drop in’ at the luncheon after the funeral this afternoon?" Mic goaded him as she put her hands on her hips and spoke in a derogatory voice.
The man’s eyes twitched and Michaela felt his gaze undressing her. She needed to get him to talk, to buy her some time until she could figure out a way to escape. She eyed the door but knew he'd shoot her before she could get there. Her mind searched all tactical means of escape. Maybe she'd play a few mind games with him. Anyone who went around poisoning kids had to be crazy.
She took a step closer to him and stared into his dark eyes. "You must be pretty tired. You had a busy day. First of all you showed up at my friend's funeral, my friend that you and your buddy poisoned where you were spotted and chased by the police. Then, you showed up at the luncheon over on Monument Avenue, where the police chased you again." She gave him a knowing look and said, "Oh my. I gotta give it to you. You’ve got some balls, but you must be a tired boy," she ended as she shook her head, a triumphant gleam in her eyes as she saw the pain flash over his face. Then she laughed, as loudly as she could. "You’re always on the outside looking in, aren’t you? What's the matter, asshole?" she taunted as she reverted to her Irish sing-song voice. "You havin’ a hard time keepin' ahead of the police?"
Snake was pissed. He hated being made fun of and that's precisely what the bitch was doing... making fun and laughing at him. How dare she! His eyes glittered with anger as he picked up the knife and came towards her.
Mic saw his hesitation and continued, "Where's your tall, skinny friend? The one with half his head caved in? Is he comin' here to get you out of this mess?" She continued to bait him. "Or did he leave you on your own, to fight your own battles for a change?" she taunted as she shook her head and gave him a pitiful look.
Snake was white with fury and raised the knife. There was less than a foot between them and Mic, quick as a flash, pulled the lamp from her bedside table and slammed it into the side of his head. Snake staggered, his head poured blood, but he kept his balance and stayed upright. "You bitch," he hissed. "I was going to play with you for a while, but I think I'll just kill you," he said as he lunged towards her. Mic dodged the knife and rolled across her king-size bed, headed towards her bedroom door and hall. If I can just get down the steps and get to a phone, I can call for help. I've got to get away from him. He's going to kill me.
Michaela fled into the hall, and ran towards the wide stairway, but she wasn't fast enough. Within seconds, the man had overtaken her, and put her in a chokehold as he dragged her down the steps. Her body banged on every wooden step until they reached her entry foyer at the bottom. Snake pinned her to the floor, straddled her and looked down into her face. Mic turned her head away from his foul breath and evil eyes.
"You're not doing so well now are you?'" he sneered with a vicious grin. "It looks to me like you've run out of tricks... or at least police tricks," he added with a vicious grin. "But," he said as he inspected her, "I've got some other tricks in store for you," he threatened, his intent clear.
Mic looked into his face. “What do you want? Are you gonna rape me? Prove you're a man? Because you aren't! Real men don’t murder children and old ladies." she hissed.
Snake jabbed his knee between her legs causing a pain which Mic likened to riding a boy’s bike and slipping off onto the cross bar. Agony poured through her body, but she didn't let it show. She'd never let this bastard know he'd caused her any pain.
She looked up into his eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you that you run around poisoning old ladies and little kids? You're some kind of a lunatic, a sick son of a bitch," she spat as she challenged him with her eyes. "You can kill me if that's what you want to do, but that's all you can do to me. My mind is shut off from you and what you're trying to do," she assured him. She stiffened her body as she felt him pulling at her pajama bottoms.
"Shut up, shut up, bitch," Snake hissed as he fumbled with her nightclothes.
Mic turned her head and saw the brass umbrella stand next to the front door, but it was too far away. Then she saw her front door was cracked open. But why. Then she realized he’d entered through her front door. What the hell had happened to her burglar alarm? Then her eyes wandered and she noticed her high heel shoes, the stilettos she'd kicked off when she'd entered the house earlier. They were down by her feet. She strained her body and kicked one of the shoes up towards her hand. Almost. Her fingers were within a half an inch of the shoe. She had to get it. It was her only way out. She arched her body closer to Snake’s and wiggled under him.
Snake looked down at her and smiled, a lewd and lascivious grin on his face and said, "You're loving this, bitch, aren't you? You broads are all alike. You fight, moan and groan, and then you can’t do without it. You just gotta have it. I can see right now I’m not gonna be able to keep you off me.” He gave her a vulgar grin.
Michaela gave him a satisfied smile, let him grind his body into hers for a few seconds and then reached for the pale blue shoe. She grabbed it tightly in both hands and arched her body as high as she could. She reached over Snake’s head and ground the sharp end of the stiletto heel into the bottom of his head, into his hindbrain. She could feel the crunch of bone and tendon as the heel penetrated the skin and pierced his brain.
Snake howled in pain and surprise as he rolled off her as his hand grabbed the back of his neck. Michaela quickly sprung away from him and stood, running towards the kitchen, but Snake caught her foot with his free hand and pulled her down. She pulled away and seconds later, they were circling each other around the dining room table. Snake had the knife in his hand, and he waved it in the air. “I’m gonna cut you into little pieces, you bitch, you just wait. You’re gonna know what pain feels like,” Snake promised in a hoarse voice, almost a whisper. He held one hand behind his head in an effort to stop the bleeding and pain.
Mic was silent as she studied Snake. She could hear blood droplets splatter on the marble floor from the wound in the back of his neck. Snake grasped the table for support and weaved back and forth, as he looked at her. Michaela’s heart leapt with hope. He must be getting dizzy... he’s lost a lot of blood. Maybe I can wait him out and he’ll pass out... Mic prayed to herself. She continued to watch him as a shadow in the front yard caught her attention. Did she hear something? She turned her head, looked out the front window and thought she saw a dog. Was it Angel? She heard Snake mutter something and looked back at him.
“What’s out there, bitch? Do you see something?” he roared as he jumped across the table at her. Mic dodged him and quickly circled around the table, but her bare feet slipped on something slimy. Her feet slid from under her and she fell. She could see blood. She’d slipped in the blood from Snake’s head wound. Damn.
“I’m coming to get you. You won’t get away from me again,” Snake promised as she scrambled to get off the floor. He grabbed her body and pulled her out of the dining room back into the center hall of the house, striking her head on the doorframe. Michaela was dizzied by the blow but struggled to stay conscious. But she wasn’t sure she could.