Page 112 of Her Last Whisper
Katie leaned closer and strained to listen.
The woman whispered faintly, “I told the truth.”
Chills raced through Katie’s body from the top of her spine and down her legs. “It’s okay. I’m going to untie you. Okay?” She couldn’t tell if the victim was the missing woman Tess Regan or another victim—she was in rough physical and mental shape.
The woman made a strange guttural sound and she repeated over and over, “Please… please…”
Katie looked around the room and saw a discarded screwdriver and a pile of painter’s tarps in the corner. Whatever the killer was deciding to do he wasn’t going to leave her alive.
She pulled out her cell phone with a slight trembling hand and pressed the saved number that directed her to Dispatch. Her phone responded with three beeps.
“Shit, no reception.”
Katie moved back through the opening into the living room where her cell phone gave the tone that she was back in range again.
“911—what’s your emergency?”
“This is Detective Katie Scott with the Pine Valley Sheriff’s Office, badge number—”
She didn’t get to finish her sentence when someone slammed her hard and threw her to the ground. Her smashed phone catapulted across the room.
Lying face down with her cheek against the stinking carpet, Katie struggled to keep her eyes open. She saw a pair of shoes—they weren’t typical everyday shoes but the work shoes that police officers wore with a steel toe. Her phone dropped in front of her face as the person above her stomped its remains into tiny shattered pieces.
The next moment, her attacker pulled her weapon from her holster and she knew at that instant they were going to shoot her and be done with it. To her surprise, as she fought to keep herself conscious, trying to widen her eyes, she saw the outline of the person empty her magazine and the bullets drop to the floor one by one—each garnering a reflection from the low light. No matter how hard she fought, she closed her eyes.
Afghanistan. Her team had been searching a building when it was hit with heavy artillery. She and Cisco had been momentarily knocked out, tucked in a small area where the roof hadn’t collapsed on them. She lay still as she heard the enemy speaking in their language nearby in a hurried manner—it was clear they were arguing.
Play dead, she thought. Not moving a muscle, she remained still and hoped that Cisco wouldn’t move as she gripped him against her body. The men bickered barely a foot from her. Something made them move on, leaving her for dead. It hadn’t been her time to go yet…
“Well aren’t you a smart detective,” hissed a man’s voice, pulling her from her past nightmare and into the current one. His voice was a cross between a whisper and a stressed shout. “Too clever for your own good and look where you are now.” He took her empty service weapon and threw it through the window next to the door. Glass shattered in the aftermath of the impact, sprinkling pieces of shards around the living room.
Katie blinked hard, still only seeing the man’s shoes pace back and forth. She pried open her eyes wider to gain her bearings, straining to see who had ambushed her. His voice wasn’t familiar to her, but he obviously knew who she was by his tone and attitude. She caught a glimpse of him. The man standing over her held her life in his hands. She tried as hard as she could to identify him, but he wasn’t anyone she had spoken to or interviewed. That much she knew.
Then she suddenly realized he must be the security guard McGaven had talked to by the photograph from the DMV. He was the one that had helpfully copied security footage for the investigation. He had access to the chemicals found in evidence and it would have been easy for him to follow Amanda and the others. He had watched and waited for the right opportunity.
Randall Drake was the killer. The man Amanda couldn’t identify from his whisper, but was terrified would come back and kill her.
Katie would bet that Randy had a high-end late model vehicle that had left an imprint on Amanda’s back—most likely during a struggle. But all that didn’t matter right now.
She fought to move her arms but the weight of them kept her pinned down. Fleeting thoughts of McGaven crossed her mind. Why couldn’t she hear Cisco barking?
Cisco…
Katie closed her eyes again and played dead as her body slowly recovered from the intense blow, shattering her nerves and muscles. Her hands and upper body began to come back to life and she knew that the longer she waited, the more strength she would regain.
“You’ve ruined everything,” Randy ranted. “This wasn’t part of the plan. I have to dispose of you, so that it won’t find its way back to me.” He began to breathe hard, his fevered breath causing him to pace faster. “There’s only one thing I can do now.” He slammed the front door and locked it with a key.
He walked up to Katie and kicked at her leg. “Sit up. I know you can hear me. I said sit up!” He continued to pace. “Answer me! Sit up!” He kicked her hard again; this time it made a direct hit to her side. She felt the extra force from the steel toe.
Katie let out a wail of pain and rolled onto her back. It felt like her side had torn wide open.
“See, I knew you were awake.” He towered above her. “Detective Katie Scott. I didn’t get the pleasure of meeting you—just your partner.”
As he waved his arms, Katie noticed several tattoos and heavy burn scars on his upper forearms. He kept rubbing his hands together, obviously fighting his urges and keeping his impulses in check—for now.
“Well, Detective, don’t you have anything to say?”
Katie was winded and the pain in her side kept pulsing with pain. “Did you kill… Amanda Payton?” she whispered.
