The 7th Victim - Alan Jacobson [171]
Remembering that the leg muscles were the strongest in the body, Vail tightened her stomach and brought her thighs together. But as she squeezed, she felt the killer’s hands pulling on her ankles, trying to pry the legs apart.
It was a smart move, because gripping the legs down low gave her leverage, leverage that Vail found hard to overcome. Sharp knee pain shot up her thigh. Her muscles started to shake. And her legs slowly parted. “Damn it!” she screamed, desperate to keep her hold. “Ahhh!”
It was all she had left. In the seconds that followed, all she could think about was how much she wanted to live. Jonathan and Robby. She filled her mind with those thoughts as her legs spread apart. Dead Eyes twisted free and fell to her knees. Coughed spasmodically. Then grabbed the stun gun from the floor, stood up, and swung hard, smashing the light bulb.
Vail hung there, her leg strength spent, her stomach muscles cramping. Overriding pain just about everywhere.
In total darkness.
Awaiting the searing jolt of electricity.
eighty-five
With the chopper’s high-intensity spotlights swirling over the Farwell ranch below, Robby spied an older model Audi parked perpendicular to the front porch.
“This is it!” he yelled into Bledsoe’s ear. He thrust a finger into the helicopter’s window, indicating the vehicle below.
Bledsoe craned his neck to have a look, then leaned over the pilot’s shoulder, pointing at the ground. “Set her down! Set her down!”
The helicopter descended rapidly and touched down in the clearing, thirty feet away.
“Air Unit Four,” Bledsoe shouted into the mike, “positive ID at Farwell ranch. Requesting backup.”
“We’re not waiting till they get here,” Robby said.
“Hell no. Let’s go!”
They climbed out of the chopper, weapons drawn, and ran without cover toward the front door. Had someone been crouched anywhere nearby with a rifle—or even with a pistol and a steady hand and a good eye—Bledsoe and Robby would have been tin cartoon characters in an old fashioned arcade game.
But they reached the door without drawing fire. They threw their backs up against the clapboard siding of the house and watched the helicopter lift up and away to search the immediate area in case the offender had attempted to flee.
Robby motioned to Bledsoe that he would take the point. After receiving a confirmatory nod, he crouched low and stepped through the splintered doorway.
Into pitch darkness.
Bledsoe followed and tried a light switch. On-off, on-off. Shook his head. Nothing.
They pulled their flashlights and swept the narrow beams across the path ahead of them. “You go up,” Robby whispered into Bledsoe’s ear. “Once you clear it, meet me back down here.”
Pistol in hand, Bledsoe proceeded up the creaky stairs as Robby moved through the rooms slowly, relying on his ears as much as the tightly focused cylinder of light. After their initial analysis, the forensics crew had crated everything and moved it out for additional evidence collection at the lab, so clearing the house was efficient and quick. Less than a minute later, Bledsoe descended the stairs. Robby met him at the landing.
They pivoted 360 degrees.
“Any ideas?” Bledsoe whispered.
Robby leaned down to Bledsoe’s ear and said, “I’ll take the closets. You look for crawl spaces.”
Bledsoe trained his light on the worn wood flooring to search for an access point. A broken trail of caked mud littered the ground. He turned and tapped Robby’s arm. Nodded at the soil tracks. They both checked their shoes: no dirt.
Robby followed the mud with his flashlight as it trailed from the house’s rear door through the downstairs hallway. It ended at the entryway coat closet, built into the back of the staircase. With everything having been removed, Robby knew it would be empty. He motioned to Bledsoe and they positioned themselves on either side of the door. Bledsoe yanked it open.
Robby swept the area with his pistol and flashlight, then shook his head: nothing. Bledsoe started to close the door, but Robby stuck out his arm. His eyes caught a straight-cut line in the wood floorboard.