Page 41 of Survivor
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Taylor
“You killed my parents, didn’t you?” Taylor asked the man that said he was his dad. He could see a resemblance between them and it was irritating. He didn’t want to be anything like this man. Whoever the hell he was, he might be Taylor’s biological father, but Sean Langford was his dad, as was Charles Stone. Not the psycho in his kitchen.
Leaning against the dishwasher, Landry looked relaxed, which was frightening. “I did. But in my defense, I did warn your mother that if she ever left me, I’d find her and I’d kill you both. She didn’t listen to me, George, she thought she could take what was mine and disappear, that she could stay one step ahead of me, just out of reach. It took me thirteen years, but I found her.”
Frank’s on the way.…Just keep him talking until Frank gets here,Taylor thought, edging farther away from Landry. In a panic, Taylor had swung the knife he was using to cut the onions, but Captain Crazy caught the blade with his hand, slicing his palm open as he wrenched the weapon away from Taylor. Landry cursed, tossing the scarlet-tinged knife onto the counter, twisting around and slapping Taylor, hard, with the back of the hand that wasn’t bleeding on the kitchen floor. His face ached and his lip was busted, the bitter coppery taste of blood on his tongue when Taylor licked his lips.
Searching the counter behind him, Taylor’s fingers brushed the bottle of wine.Perfect.“I’m going to tell you a story, George, before I finish what I started ten years ago.” Their eyes met, but Landry’s were cold and dead, no heart breathing life into them. Clearly, the man was a sociopath.
“The first time I saw your mother, I was smitten. She was seventeen at the time, dating a teacher’s aide that worked at the college in Bangor. I can’t for the life of me remember his name. Doesn’t really matter; you knew him as Sean Langford, so I’ll just refer to him as Sean in the story. Anyway, Melissa was so vibrant and beautiful, full of life, very independent. As soon as I saw her, I knew I had to have her. Not because I loved her…because I wanted to break her, snuff out that fire inside her that gave her strength.” Landry paused, staring at him blankly for a moment, a wry smile on his face.
“It took time and patience; she was very strong-willed. But as soon as we found out she was pregnant, well, that was just another pawn I could use against her. You see, there was nothing your mother wouldn’t do to protect you, even before you were born. But then I realized that once she stopped fighting and submitted to my every whim, I was quite bored. So I had to come up with new ways to entertain myself. At first, she wouldn’t even scream. But when I held my knife against her belly she begged me so perfectly not to hurt you. Things were good after that for a while. She submitted so beautifully; her howls of agony were exquisite, and I let her have you.” Landry was leaning back on one elbow, watching Taylor with those cold, dead eyes as he swirled the wine left in Taylor’s glass, then downed it and dropped the empty glass into the sink.
“You’re insane,” Taylor hissed, edging a little bit farther away, the door leading to the garage in arms’ reach now. His plan was to smash the wine bottle over dear old dad’s head and make a run for it if Frank and Caleb didn’t arrive soon.
Blood continued to drip onto the kitchen floor, a small puddle forming at Landry’s feet. “Oh my, it would seem I’m making a terrible mess.” He clucked his tongue, reaching for the roll of paper towels and winding several over the torn flesh of his right hand. Hopefully, the wound would hinder his movement enough for Taylor to get away.
“Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes! The night we brought you home from the hospital, I had to make sure she knew that I was still in charge, that I came first, not the screaming, puking, shitting bundle of blue in her arms. So I loaded my Glock and aimed it at your head and reminded her of our bargain. She got to keep you, but you both belonged to me. I made a promise that night, George. I told your mother that if she ever left that I would find her and I would end you both. My promise was to kill you first, while she watched, then her. But the bitch was a little smarter than I gave her credit for, hiding you in that crawl space in the attic. And then I got pulled over under an alias that was tied to a gun charge. Essentially, you lucked out, boy. You got to live your life on borrowed time while I sat in jail and followed your every move.”
Taylor wanted to tell the man to shut the fuck up, but his rambling was likely the only reason he was still alive. Just as he started to wonder where Caleb and Frank were, movement behind Captain Crazy caught his eye. Taylor kept his focus on Landry, not wanting to call attention to the figure in the door to his and Frank’s bedroom in his periphery. He remembered getting up in the middle of the night and cracking the window in the bedroom because it was stuffy in the apartment. That must be how whoever it was had gotten in.
Several things happened in quick succession then, everything a blur. The figure emerged from the bedroom and shouted, “FBI, freeze!” Landry spun around, lifting the knife in the air and a gunshot rang out, hitting him somewhere if the curse that flew out of his mouth was any indication. It didn’t take him down, though the knife flew from his hand and hit the person with the gun. Another shot went into the microwave beside Taylor’s head and he ducked when sparks flew.
“Goddammit!” Landry shouted, slamming his fist on the counter. Taylor reached for the bottle of wine just as the door to the apartment burst open, Caleb and Frank charging in. Landry’s attention on the men rushing through the door, Taylor took the opportunity, not sure there’d be another, and hit the man that was apparently his father in the back of the head with the wine bottle as hard as he could swing it.
Landry went down, out cold. Caleb moved fast, putting his big booted foot on the man’s chest and holding him down just in case. “Taylor!” Frank somehow vaulted over the bar, landing on his feet beside Taylor, grabbing him and pulling him close.
“I’m okay, Frank.” Taylor leaned into him, the fear subsiding, leaving him trembling and weak.
Davis stormed into the apartment, gun drawn, his focus on Frank and Taylor. “Is the scene secure, Moore?”
“Yeah,” Frank answered before grabbing Taylor by the neck and pulling him down for a kiss. When Taylor hissed in pain, Frank leaned back and stared at him. He knew the moment Frank saw the bruise on his cheek and his split lip, his eyes going from scared and concerned to livid in a split second. “That piece of shit, I’ll kill him.”
Taylor caught his arm, pulling Frank back to him. “Frankie, baby, I need you.” And just like that, he had Frank’s undivided attention once again. The last thing Taylor wanted was for Frank to get in trouble for beating the shit out of Captain Crazy.
Landry was coming to, and Caleb was reading him his Miranda rights with a few colorful expletives peppered here and there. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you threaten to kill the suspect, Officer Moore, just like I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you tell Agent Landers that you were going to send him to your taxidermist to be stuffed.” Davis shook his head, hands on his hips.
Said Agent ran into the apartment, his ears obviously burning. “Where is he? Where’s Blair?”
“Who the hell is Blair?” Taylor asked, confused.
“Kian, his real name is Blair.” Frank’s fingers brushed over the large bruise on Taylor’s face. It was uncomfortable, but feeling Frank’s touch made him feel safe, and right now, that was more important to him than a slight sting. A long bang caught them off guard and Frank shoved Taylor behind him shouting for Taylor to get down as he and Caleb both drew their weapons.
Taylor leaned around Frank trying to see what the hell was going on in their living room. It was chaos. Davis was standing in the corner by the patio doors talking on his phone. Rory was pacing back and forth, wringing his hands, and at least two medics were working on someone on the floor, trying to start an IV if Taylor was seeing things right. “Wait, Frank, is that Kian?” He tried to move past Frank and Caleb to go to his friend but they both blocked him. “What’s going on? Is he okay?”
He and Frank had both been pissed when they found out that men they trusted and cared about had entered their lives under false pretenses, and rightly so. But standing there watching paramedics trying to save the life of a man he’d considered a friend, a brother for close to eight years, put things into perspective. The fact that twenty minutes earlier Taylor wasn’t sure whether he’d live to see another day only intensified the need to hold on to the people in his life that he loved. “Frank, please tell me he’s going to be okay.”
“Oh, thank God!” Agent Landers shouted, holding the IV bag for the medics so they could lift the stretcher. Kian was unconscious, an oxygen mask covering his face and his shirt was torn open, a bandage stretched across his abdomen soaked in blood. But he was alive, breathing. The paramedics rushed out the door with Landers behind them and Taylor breathed a sigh of relief when he heard one of the paramedics say that Blair was stable.
Davis walked toward them, shoving his cell into the pocket of his suit coat. “He’ll be okay, Taylor, he lost a lot of blood, but he’s stable now.”
“Your apartment is a crime scene, Moore, you can’t stay here tonight.” Davis flung his arm toward the puddle of blood in the corner. “And you,” Davis snarled, pointing at Landry who was unsteady on his feet, blood trickling down his face from a gash on his forehead. “Are under arrest, idiot.”
Landry spit in Davis’s face and immediately regretted it when Caleb spun him around and shoved his head into the wall. “Damn, I’m sorry, I must have slipped on all this broken glass.” Caleb said dryly. “Frank, you and lover boy can stay with me and the Missus tonight; pack a bag. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take out the trash.”
Davis shook his head, trying hard not to smile, the muscles in his jaw twitching. When he turned and looked at Frank, the mask of indifference the Sergeant usually wore was firmly back in place. “We’ll wait while the two of you pack a bag and then I’ll have this nice officer here drive you over to Knight’s house. Normally, I’d want your ass in the squad room writing up a report. But given the circumstances, I’ll expect you and your boyfriend at nine in the morning to give your statements, and you can write up your report then.”
Taylor took Frank’s offered hand, following him toward the bedroom. “One more thing, Officer Moore.”
“Yeah?” Frank stopped in the door of their room, looking over his shoulder.
“Leave the kiss out of the report.” Davis chuckled.
