My Kind of Town
The warm-up act
>> Portlock
Sprinting back up the path through Lily's garden, Quinn flicked off the safety on the 9mm in his right hand. That's when the woman stopped screaming from inside the house. Pausing at the screen door leading to the house, he pulled the cell phone from his belt, speed-dialed HPD dispatch with his left hand."Central, this is Solo 27, Ah Sun. I need some units. My 10-5 is ..." He gave the address. "Possible break-in, possible assault -- I'm hearing screaming from inside. I'm investigating and will keep the line open." He slipped the cell phone onto his belt, attached the ear piece.
Leading with his pistol, Quinn slid open the screen door, edged into the house. That's when he heard another voice, a male voice, wailing in what sounded like pain. It came from down the hall. Quinn started moving in that direction, wishing he was still wearing the bullet-proof vest he wore on duty.
>> In the maid's cottage behind Lily's home, Elizabeth had heard the scream too and instantly knew as only a child can that it was her mother. The 6-year-old was standing at the screen door to the cottage looking terrified when Lily threw open the door, stepped inside, swept Elizabeth into her arms and locked and bolted the door behind them. "It's going to be OK, Sweetie," Lily said, hoping she was right. "Quinn is a policeman, he's going to take care of everything."
Then, listening for the next sound from Lily's house, they both began to cry softly, fearing for the lives of people they each loved, two people who were very much in danger. And the best they could do was pray.
>> Bleeding from where Mickey had hit her cheek with his .22 pistol, the Filipina maid lay unconscious on the bed --unconscious and nude after he'd cut away her clothes with a big butcher knife he'd found in the kitchen. The only other person around was the little girl he'd heard earlier, calling from the maid's cottage behind the house. Nothing for Mickey to worry about there. So he would finish what he started. Setting the butcher knife aside, he kept the pistol in his right hand and ripped open the Velcro waist band on his black surf shorts with his left, pulled them down around his ankles and positioned himself between the maid's legs. He'd have to hurry. The woman who he'd been following for two days would be home soon, and then it would be her turn. Her name was Lily, he'd learned, and she was the one he really wanted. This little Filipina was just his warm-up act.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com