Symphony of Blood, A Hank Mondale Supernatural Case Page 19

  Mackenzie ran down the corridor, her pink sneakers seeming like roller blades, she moved so fast; I followed so closely behind I practically knocked them off her ankles. She threw open a door, then descended a flight of steps, two at a time. I slammed the door but didn’t slow to lock it.

  The steps were plain, unfinished wood with no carpeting. Halfway down was a landing, then the stairway twisted and continued downward. I heard the door smash open above us. The creature didn’t use the knob, simply knocking it aside. The steps led us out inside a garage. Mackenzie hit a button on the wall and the garage door loudly began to open.

  “Hurry!” she yelled, but she didn’t have to. She was hustling towards the driver’s side of a pink Jeep Wrangler with oversized wheels and no roof. I was leaping over the passenger’s side door before she even finished getting the word out of her mouth.

  “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!” I yelled as the creature appeared at the bottom of the steps.

  Apparently, I didn’t need to tell her anything either. The key was already in the ignition and the gas revving before I finished my first “Let’s go.” She gunned the engine then quickly had the Jeep in reverse. Before I could snap shut my seat belt, she had us out in the open air, then hit the remote control for the garage door and it was on its way down. For a spoiled brat, she was showing impressive poise under pressure.

  She cut the steering wheel hard and the car fishtailed around, then she corrected and straightened out the wheel and the Jeep was facing in the right direction. She floored the gas pedal as I looked back to see the garage door settle to a close. I could see the creature through a row of square windows on the garage door, its big eyes glistening in the light, but it wasn’t coming after us.

  “It’s not coming!” I yelled out.

  She looked in the rearview mirror and said, “He will.”

  “What do you mean, he will?”

  “That’s my Symphony. I told you he’s very conservative. He doesn’t want to show himself when someone might see him.”

  “Your Symphony?”

  She shrugged.

  “You also said he was five feet tall and very timid. That thing wasn’t very timid.”

  “I don’t know what happened to him.”

  “You don’t know?” My voice was cracking from the frustration.

  “He’s different.”

  We approached the edge of the property and she hit another remote control button that opened the front gates. I looked to the security hut, and it was empty.

  “He left early today,” she said as she waited a few seconds for the gates to open fully.

  “Lucky day for him.”

  The wrought iron gates opened, and she accelerated onto the main road. The tires squealed, then we drove over a decorative boulder at the corner of her driveway, bouncing twice then coming roughly to a landing.

  “Different, huh? I’ll say.”

  “You believe me now, Hank Mondale?”

  I didn’t know what to believe. But I know what I saw. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

  “You believe me now, Hank Mondale!” she repeated, but her volume raised. Then she turned her head away from the road and yelled, “Well! Do you? Huh!”

  I looked down at the digital speedometer and it was flipping rapidly somewhere above eighty miles per hour. The road was windy and narrow, and she was looking at me, not the road.

  “I said I believe you!” The open air was blowing loudly. We had to speak up just to hear each other, but with the stress of the moment, we were both yelling well louder than necessary. “Would you look at the road…please!”

  She finally looked back at the road, then pushed the engine even harder. We came to the parkway and she directed the Jeep onto the entrance ramp. We bounced up and down and the underbody of the car scraped the roadway. Mackenzie merged aggressively into traffic; a man in a gray minivan honked, but quickly backed away as we flew by on his right, then left him in the dust.

  “Okay, what do we do? What do we do? Shit! What are we going to do?” The grace under pressure she showed earlier apparently was left behind along with her furry little dog.

  “Just relax. We’re safe for now. It’s not chasing us.”

  “Yes, but he will. He’ll find us.”

  “Please relax.” I looked at the speedometer and it was fluttering in triple digits. “And slow down.”

  She kept a heavy foot on the gas pedal and held the wheel with one hand while running the other hand through her hair. “My dog. My poor pookie.”

  “Your dog will be fine. We’ve got bigger problems right now than your dog.”

  A tear ran down her cheek. “He’s never been without his mommy before.”

  “Mackenzie, please. Please slow down.”

  She weaved between the two lanes of the parkway, passing slower cars so fast I could hardly make out their color. She shook her head back and forth.

  “We’re fucked. We are so fucked, Hank.”

  “Relax, Mackenzie. We need to think this out.”

  “There’s nothing to think about. Symphony is going to find us and he is going to fucking kill us!”

  “There must be somewhere to go where we’ll be safe.”

  “There is nowhere to go. He can track us. He will track us. He will find us and he will kill us.” Then she took her eyes off the road again, without slowing down. “And don’t think you can leave me, Hank Mondale. Symphony will find you, too. He knows you saw him. He knows you know he exists. He will find you and he will kill you.” The lone tear that was in her eye was suddenly joined by others, and they ran down her cheeks, dragging black mascara down with them. “And he’ll kill me, too.”

  I looked ahead and saw the rear bumper of a giant SUV approaching. Mackenzie was sulking, hand rubbing her temples.

  “Mackenzie! Slow down!” My palms were so sweaty, I rubbed them on my pants. I looked at her, then the road, then back at her. She wasn’t paying attention. We were gaining ground on the SUV, about to kiss its rear end. “Mackenzie! Slow down!”

  She looked up and swerved into the left lane, then around the SUV, then back to the right lane. The tires squealed with misery and the smell of rubber stung my nostrils.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Mackenzie. Slow down.” I clenched my teeth and fists simultaneously.

  “What’s the goddamn difference! We’re dead anyway.”

  “Enough. Slow down.”

  “Fine!”

  She slammed the brake pedal with both feet while looking at me with a devilish smile that reminded me she’d never had a real problem in her entire life. The Jeep shrieked to a stop. The SUV quickly came upon us and swerved.

  “Stupid bitch!” the guy yelled as his truck cut off an old Ford whose driver was minding his own business in the left lane.

  The driver of the old Ford slowed and looked at us with wide eyes. Mackenzie shot a nasty look back at him, and he shook his head then continued on.

  We came to a complete stop in the right lane of the parkway. Traffic shot by, some without slowing, others slowed and honked and shouted obscenities. Mackenzie sat still, both arms on the steering wheel at ‘ten and two’ position. She looked straight ahead.

  “Mackenzie?” I asked, my tone soft and somber as if we were in church, in spite of the racket from the cars scrambling to get around us. “Put on the hazard lights.”

  She blinked and took a deep breath. “What?”

  “The hazard lights. I don’t want to get hit.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” She reached towards the dashboard and pushed the small red button for the blinkers.

  “How about if I drive?”

  “Asshole!” came a shout from a passing motorist. We didn’t look over to acknowledge him.

  That sinister smile returned to her face. Then she climbed out of her seat, hopped onto my lap and said, “Sure, Hank. You drive.”

  “Okay. If you’d get off me, I’ll drive.”

  Mackenzie grinded her ass into my groin and began lig
htly rocking back and forth. I couldn’t help but notice what a great ass it was.

  “Please, Mackenzie. Would you let me get up.”

  She leaned backwards and the smile disappeared. In my ear I heard her whisper, “I’m scared, Hank. Please protect me.”

  I patted her shoulder with about as much emotion as my fifth grade science teacher used to describe Darwin’s theory. It was crucial to maintain a business relationship, and keep my senses sharp. She wasn’t making it easy.

  “It will be okay. Don’t worry.”

  “Symphony is going to kill us, Hank. I know it.” She brushed her cheek against mine as she turned her head. It was soft and wet. She smelled good. She pushed her face into my chest and the wetness sunk through. She wasn’t bawling, just sniffling and tearing.

  Another car honked, and I shook her off.

  “Let me get up.” I twisted my body and she rolled off me. I climbed over the gearshift and sat down in the driver’s side, then flipped off the hazard lights and put the Jeep in gear.

  * *

  We drove in silence for about half an hour, heading south, towards the city, but with no real destination. She tried to call her father on her cell phone a few times, but got no answer; other than that, she hardly moved. I kept the speedometer steady at fifty-five and it was a good thing too, as we passed not one but two New York State Troopers, tucked in neatly behind the pine trees.

  Someone had to break the silence. When I looked over her way, she seemed dazed. She was staring out the side of the Jeep, a whipping wind blowing her shoulder length hair around wildly. I guess she was thinking. I was too. But I was tired of thinking. I needed a plan.

  “Where should we go?” I asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Of course it matters.”

  “Symphony can find us. He can find us anywhere.”

  “Then maybe we should get far away.”

  “It took him weeks to find me after he’d first seen me. But he did. He found me, alright.”

  “When did he first see you?”

  “At a fair in Queens. That’s where I saw him kill Bobby.”

  “You saw him kill Bobby?”

  “Yeah. That’s why he came for me. And that’s why he’ll come for us.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything when he killed Bobby?”

  “Like what? And to who?”

  “The cops, I guess.” We laughed together, the punch drunk laugh of futility.

  “Yeah, right. Excuse me, officer, this monster just ate my boyfriend.”

  “I guess that would have been a tough sell.”

  “They’d lock me up like a mental patient.”

  “Yeah, they probably would.” I looked in the rearview mirror, half expecting to see the creature gaining ground on us. Instead, I just saw cars and the trees passing by on the side of the roadway. “But you told your father.”

  “Eventually. Yeah, I did.”

  “What do you mean, eventually?”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “It does to me. I need to know what we’re dealing with. That…that thing is after you. I saw it too. I heard it. It is after you! Not me. Not the world. You. It said your name. It chased you.”

  “I told you. It knows that I know it exists. If humans know it exists, then it’s in danger. Symphony knows that.”

  “You’re not telling me everything, Mackenzie. I am a detective, you know.”

  “Whatever.”

  I looked at her sideways. There wasn’t any point in pressing her now. It was more important to find a safe place to hole up for a bit while I figured out a plan.

  “Do you know somewhere that we can go?” I asked.

  “How about your place?”

  “I don’t think so. There are going to be people looking for us. They are going to want explanations. People are dead, Mackenzie.”

  “Poor Wes, and Marty. Oh God, and Horace too.”

  “Yes, they’re all dead. In your father’s house.”

  “Oh, God. My dad.” She tried his cell phone again. “He’s not answering. Oh, shit. I hope he’s okay.”

  “Your dad is resourceful. I’ll bet he’s fine.”

  “You’re just saying that. You can’t be sure. Symphony may have gotten him.”

  I tried to stay positive. “I’ll bet he’s fine.”

  “I have to try again.” She tried again, and got no answer again. Then, she turned towards me and said, “I know a place we can go.”

  “Really?”

  “We’d be safe there, at least for a while.”

  “Good. A while is all we can ask for right now.”

  “Okay. Keep going south.”

  We continued on heading south, and as we approached the Westchester/Bronx border, she pulled out her cell phone and made a call.

  “Hi, baby,” she said, cool as a snowflake, her wide and mischievous smile returning to her face.

  I took one look at her, and she kept her eyes straight ahead as if I wasn’t there, so my focus returned to the road.

  “What drama is going on at my house right now. My dad is tripping and I need somewhere to hang for a while.” She paused but with the thrashing wind blowing in my ears, I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation. “Thanks. You’re a doll. I can always count on your Ange’. Oh, and I have someone with me.” She giggled. “No, not him. Another guy.” Her voice got high and squeaky as she said, “Stop it, you tramp. He’s just a friend.” She looked at me, and this time I kept my eyes ahead as if she wasn’t there. “Listen, we’re on our way. We’ll be by soon. ‘Kay. Bye.”

  She put the phone back into her purse and looked over at me. “Hank, my friend Angelina has a place where we can crash for a while. No one will know to look for us there.”

  “Why not?”

  “They just won’t. Okay.”

  “Fine. Where to?”

  “The Bronx.”

  “A friend of yours lives in the Bronx?” Her friends owned buildings in the Bronx. At least their daddies did. They certainly didn’t live there.

  “Yes! What’s the big deal?”

  “Fine. Lead the way.”

  The Taconic turned into the Sprain Brook Parkway, which then led to the Major Deegan Expressway. Suddenly, I knew exactly where we were headed—the neighborhood anyway, but I didn’t let on.

  “Get off at the next exit,” she said as we neared Fordham Road.

  I merged over to the right lane then got off the exit. We caught the traffic light while it was green, so I slowed just slightly and made the left onto Fordham.

  “I didn’t say to make a left.”

  “Sorry. Am I going the wrong way?”

  “No. You’re not.”

  I looked at her cross-eyed and she quickly looked away.

  “There was a hooker murdered down here, you know?”

  “No. Why would I know?” She folded her arms and looked at me defensively.

  I was pretty sure she was telling the truth, so I dropped the subject, continuing the cat-and-mouse game. “No reason.”

  As Jerome Avenue approached on our right, I continued to accelerate. She jumped at the last second and reached across me to grab the wheel. “Make a right here!”

  “Okay, okay.” The tires squealed slightly as I turned with one hand and brushed her back with the other. Two pedestrians who were a couple of steps into the road anticipating the opportunity to cross jerked back and shouted at us.

  “You’re a maniac,” Mackenzie cried.

  “Come on. It wasn’t even close.”

  We came down Jerome and a half a block before we hit the McDonald’s, she said, “Make this right.”

  I turned the Jeep up the quiet and familiar side street. “This is right near where the hooker got murdered.”

  “So?”

  I was pretty certain she didn’t know anything about the hooker murder. I couldn’t say the same about the others. Those she knew about. She was holding out on me, and I was going to get full discl
osure out of her. One way or another, Mackenzie Blake was going to tell me what she knew. Both our lives depended on it.

  “Look for a spot to park.”

  I looked at the rows of parked cars. Most of them were crummy old American models with dings, dents and faded paint jobs. “You’re going to park this here.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Well, a pink Jeep stands out just about anywhere, but in this neighborhood…”

  “Don’t be such a pain. It will be fine.” Then she pointed to an empty spot. “There. Park right there.”

  I parallel parked the car, Driver’s Ed style, and then shut off the engine. “We better put on the top,” I told her. She nodded, removed the top from a hatch in the trunk and we sealed up the car.

  As we walked away she said, “Give me the keys.” I handed them over and she activated the alarm. An obnoxious beep rang out.

  I laughed and said, “Sure. That’s really gonna help.”

  “Oh, stop it, Hank. I’ve parked my car here millions of times.”

  She walked down the sidewalk and up a short flight of steps that opened into a courtyard that separated two buildings, each four stories high. Two young guys wearing basketball jerseys were sitting on a stoop, one was chugging from a bottle that was wrapped in a brown paper bag while the other puffed away at something that smelled way too strong to be a cigarette. We walked towards the other stoop.

  “Yo yo, baby,” one guy called out. “You are lookin’ good.” Mackenzie didn’t pay him any mind but I could hear them arguing over whether I was a cop or not.

  The front door to the building was propped open with a rock, and she pulled the door and walked inside. I followed. We walked into the entrance hall, to our right was a row of metal mailboxes, to our left an ugly, brick wall, desperately in need of a good sandblasting.

  Mackenzie walked along the left side and pulled at a heavy door painted an institutional shade of orange.

  “Allow me,” I said as I grabbed the door from behind her and pulled it open.