Madman on a Drum (Mac McKenzie #5)

Madman on a Drum (Mac McKenzie #5) Page 88

“Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.”

“That’s very profound.”

“Yeah, I got it off an episode of Star Trek.”

The room seemed to breathe; I could feel cool air moving in and out through half-open windows in the front and back of the house.

“What now?” Teachwell said.

“That’s for you to decide.”

“Is it?”

“Drop your gun. Let me see your hands.”

“Fuck that,” Schroeder screamed into the headset—of course, he had heard every word. “Kill him. Shoot the fucker.”

Teachwell turned his head, but not his body, and tried to find me in the darkness. The gun that I knew he had was out of my sight. He tossed words in my general direction. “You think you’re clever,” he said. “But I got you back. I got you back for what you did to me.”

“Why don’t you act your age, Teachwell?”

“I got you back.”

“Shoot him,” Schroeder shouted.

“If you wanted to kill me so badly, why didn’t you do it when I delivered the ransom?” I said.

Teachwell’s shrug was nearly imperceptible in the darkness. “The little girl,” he said. “I didn’t want to pop you in front of her. That would have been…” He shook his head. “I tried to be respectful to the little girl. She never did anything to me.”

“Thank you for that.”

“ ’Sokay.”

I heard a car door slam, and seconds later Schroeder was at the door.

“What about Scottie Thomforde?” I asked.

He shrugged again. “You made him. I knew he would lead you to me.”

“And Tommy Thomforde?”

“Him I shot for fun.”

“And dumped his body on my floor.”

“That was fun, too. I wish I could have seen your face when you found him.”

Schroeder tried the door, but it wouldn’t give. “McKenzie, let me in. McKenzie.”

“What the hell happened to you, Teachwell?” I asked. “You were a decent guy who took a step out of line. You should have been able to get past it. How did you get from there to here?”

“Prison,” he said. “I’m not going back.”

“Fuck it,” Schroeder said. He left the door. I guessed he was going to enter the house the same way I had. Teachwell didn’t have much time.

“Drop your gun,” I told him. “Put your hands in the air.”

“I’m not going back,” Teachwell said.

“Don’t say that.”

“I can’t go back.”

“Don’t.”

“You know my wife. Tell her—”

“Please don’t, Mr. Teachwell.”

“Tell her…”

He never finished the sentence. I guess he decided he didn’t have anything to say to her, after all. Instead, he spun toward me.

I fired three times.

Teachwell’s shadow seemed to rise up and then fell backward hard against the window.

I heard glass shattering.

And the tearing of fabric.

And nothing.

I waited—one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi—my gun at the ready, telling myself that the man who’s healthy, wealthy, and wise never rises too early. Four Mississippi and I launched myself forward, hitting the light switch that I knew was on the wall near the front door. Floor lamps flooded the room with light. I forced myself to ignore Nina and concentrate on the body in front of me. Teachwell was slumped against the wall, his back to the room. The drape was torn at the top and hanging precariously, exposing half the bay window. The window was broken. Teachwell’s arm was caught on the jagged edge of glass halfway up. It appeared almost as if he were trying to pull himself upright. His gun was still in his other hand, lodged between his body and the wall. Normally, I would have kicked it out of Teachwell’s reach; that’s what I had been trained to do. Instead, I left it there for the police to find. It would bolster my story later. Besides, Teachwell no longer had any use for it. I confirmed the fact with two fingers pressed against his carotid artery.

I heard Schroeder bounding up the basement steps. A moment later he was crouched against the wall, his MP7 submachine gun at the ready.

“Is he dead?” he said.

“He better be.”

“What the fuck were you doing talking to him like that?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I holstered the nine and went to Nina’s side. I carefully removed the tape from her mouth. She spoke breathlessly. Her first words surprised me.

“Don’t worry about the window,” she said. “I’ll take care of it before Erica gets home.”

“Are you all right?”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Nina said.

“Good.”