A Port in the Storm Read online

Geri turned and glared at her husband. “And no dodging questions like you did last night.”

  Both girls looked pale and drawn and their gazes flitted between Fredericks and their dad.

  A moment of silence filled the kitchen.

  “Girls,” Alice said. “Why don’t you select a donut and take it upstairs? Afterwards, you can play for a little bit.”

  Susie’s eyes never left the bowl. “We’re not allowed to eat in our room.”

  “This one time, it will be all right to do so,” Alice said. She picked up the clothing from her lap, stood and motioned for them to follow. She paused and gazed back at the adults. “If you will excuse me for a moment, in my day, ladies didn’t dress quite so scantily.”

  Susie and Christine each got a donut out of the box, climbed quietly off of their chairs and shuffled toward the living room with Alice.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, Alice squatted down in front of them. “After you finish your donuts, get yourselves dressed and cleaned up. Then make your beds and play quietly until your father comes to get you, all right?”

  Both the girls nodded, still anxious.

  “Everything will be fine. Alice will look after it. Now, off you go.” She prodded them further down the hallway. When they had disappeared into one of the rooms, she ducked into the bedroom she’d woken in. She quickly slipped on her pants, took a deep breath, whirled and stalked back down the stairs.

  No one had moved.

  Fredericks glowered at her as she stopped at the edge of the kitchen. He looked at his partner. “Raf, tell me why you have a known killer in your house, wearing your daughter’s pajamas.”

  Geri’s gaze snapped over to Mike. “Known killer? Who, her?” Geri indicated Alice.

  “Yeah, her. We arrested her a month ago for killing that bishop. What’s his name?”

  “McGinty,” Alice and Rafferty both said.

  Geri’s jaw dropped.

  Rafferty caught his wife’s gaze. “Believe me, the scumbag got what he deserved.”

  “He totally did,” Mike said, “but that doesn’t make this okay.” He indicated Alice, who stood behind the chair she’d been sitting in. “I mean, shit, Raf, your daughters—” He lowered his voice. “Your daughters are right upstairs. They were holding her hand a second ago.”

  Rafferty glowered at his partner. “How about you let me worry about my daughters, okay, partner?”

  Mike looked at him and held his hands out, imploring. “You saw the video. You talked to her afterward. She put one right in the middle of his forehead and never even blinked.”

  “I assure you, Constable Fredericks, I am no threat to anyone in this house,” Alice said.

  Mike glared at Alice. “Oh, okay. Well then, don’t worry about it, Raf. She says she’s not a threat.”

  “Sarcasm does not become you, Constable Fredericks.”

  “Fuck you, Sister. Probably not even a real fuckin’ nun.”

  “Hey, take it easy, Mike,” Rafferty said.

  Mike looked aghast. “You’re on her side? McGinty is just one that we know about. We found three others where her prints were at the scene. As cold as she was, there’s no way McGinty was her first. Probably not even her fourth. How many more do you think there are? Five? Ten?”

  Alice cleared her throat. “Three hundred and twenty-seven.”

  “Excuse me?” Mike said. “Three hundred and twenty-seven what?”

  “More,” Alice said. “Three hundred and twenty-seven more.”

  Rafferty’s jaw dropped. “I knew the count would be high but...really, Alice? Three hundred and twenty-seven?”

  Mike’s gaze narrowed. “Are you telling me you’ve killed three hundred and twenty-eight people?”

  Alice met his gaze and nodded. “I am.”

  “That’s it,” Mike said and yanked his handcuffs out from behind his back. “Diplomatic immunity or not, you’re under arrest.” He stepped toward Alice.

  Rafferty moved between them. “Hang on a second, Mike.”

  Mike tried to push past Rafferty. “Get out of my way, Raf. This bitch is going to jail. Three hundred and twenty-eight—"

  “That’s enough!” Geri slammed her open hand on the kitchen table.

  Both men started and snapped their heads around.

  “Mike, back off,” Geri said.

  “But, Geri—”

  “I said, back off” She glared at her husband. “You, too, Marty.”

  Rafferty opened his mouth to protest.

  Geri silenced him with another glare.

  When the two men relaxed and took a step back, Geri moved her gaze to Alice. “I’ve seen a lot of violence in my life. I’ve known guys who took great delight in killing. Guys who were really good at killing. Guys who were born to kill. On a battlefield, in a war, those guys are the greatest asset. If you point them at the enemy, you can guarantee that enemy’s going in the ground. But I wouldn’t want those guys, those killers, anywhere near my girls. Are you one of those killers, Alice?”

  The question hung in the air between them.

  Rafferty and Mike, their jaws slack and their eyes wide, looked from Geri to Alice and back again.

  Alice clasped her hands together in front of her and watched Geri closely. “I, too, have known men as you describe. One often wonders whether men like that are truly human. All of us, though, have that capacity for brutality. All it takes is the proper circumstances to set it in motion.

  “While it is true I have killed many times, I take no delight in it. I am quite good at it only because one tends to improve at any skill one practices diligently.

  “To answer your question, Geraldine, Susie and Christine are safer with me than with anyone else on earth.”

  “Yeah, right.” Mike said.

  Alice kept her gaze on Geri as she said, “Constable Fredericks, your skepticism is only a result of your lack of information.”

  Rafferty jerked around. “Alice, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do. It is the only way to placate your partner and, more importantly, reassure Geraldine.”

  “What are you going to do?” Geri asked.

  Alice pulled out her chair and sat down at the table, motioning Geri to do the same. Rafferty joined them. That left Mike standing.

  “Come on, Mike. Have a seat.” Rafferty nudged a chair out from the table with his foot.

  “Fuck that.”

  Geri rolled her eyes. “Michael Fredericks, sit down and listen.”

  Mike crossed his arms. “Not gonna happen. Anything that comes outta this bitch’s mouth will be bullshit. I—”

  It was Alice’s turn to slap the table. “Child, for once in your blessed, bloody life, open your narrow, infantile mind and use the ears God gave you for what he intended rather than for holding up your infernal sunglasses!”

  Geri and Rafferty struggled to hold in their laughter.

  Mike’s shoulders slumped as he settled into the chair, a scowl on his face.

  Alice sat back, folded her hands in her lap and gazed at Geri. “For quite some time, one pope or another has tasked me with eliminating threats to the church’s reputation. When one priest or bishop or another member of the church sullied the good name of Roman Catholics everywhere, the Pope would send me round to...clean up their mess.”

  “That’s just semantics,” Mike muttered.

  Alice speared him with her gaze. “Hush, child.”

  “Why you?” Geri interlocked her fingers and leaned forward on her elbows.

  “Because my soul will never be judged by God in heaven or by Jesus Christ upon the resurrection.”

  Geri shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means.”

  “You go to church, don’t you?”

  Geri nodded. “I do. Not as often as I should but...”

  “What happens when you die, according to the Bible?”

  Geri thought for a moment. “Your soul ascends to be judged before God and then you get sent to Heaven or Hell t
o await the resurrection.”

  “Quite correct.” She waited.

  Geri furrowed her brow. “And your soul will never be judged...”

  Alice watched her working it out.

  “So, your soul will never ascend?”

  “Correct.”

  Mike rolled his eyes. “She’s trying to tell you that she can’t die.”

  Geri’s gaze shifted to Mike and then back to Alice. Her brow furrowed again. “What do you mean you can’t die? Everybody dies.”

  Alice raised her brows.

  “How much longer are we going to listen to this line of bullshit from this psycho?” Mike said.

  “Geri,” Rafferty said softly, “where’s the bullet wound?”

  “The bullet wound?” Geri mumbled. “Oh, shit, the bullet wound!”

  “What bullet wound?” Mike said.

  Geri looked at Mike. “Last night when Alice got here there was a bullet hole in her jacket and her shirt. The blood had soaked through. But when I exposed her stomach, there was no wound.”

  Mike scowled and shrugged. “Sounds like a setup, to me. She’s running some kind of scam on you, Raf.”

  Alice pursed her lips. “Do you always doubt everything you’re told, Constable Fredericks?”

  Mike nodded emphatically. “It’s what makes me a great detective.”

  “Indeed. Well then, doubt this.” Alice shot to her feet, leaned across the table and snatched the large knife from the butcher block on the island.

  Geri jerked back. Mike shoved his chair back and yanked his Glock from its holster, leveling it on her. “Hold it right there,” he snarled.

  A crash at the front door startled all of them. Alice pivoted and sprinted into the living room. The door hung on one hinge and the shattered remnants of the door frame lay on the foyer floor.

  As Alice rushed toward the doorway clutching the butcher knife, three men dressed head-to-toe in black charged inside. She met them at the edge of the foyer and plunged the knife into the chest of the first.

  “My gun’s in the safe,” Rafferty shouted. Footsteps sounded as the detectives rushed into the living room.

  The first attacker dropped to the floor, the knife still in his chest, dead.

  The detectives were behind her and only Mike had a gun. Alice would need to get out of the way so he would feel free to shoot.

  As the other two leveled their guns at Alice, she ducked and drove one foot into the kneecap of the closest. The crack echoed through the living room. He grunted and went down in a heap, clutching his knee.

  “Mommy, what’s happening?” Susie called from the top of the stairs.

  Alice rolled to her left, toward from the remaining gunman. As she came to her feet, she snatched the wrist of his gun hand.

  “Susie, get back in your room. Hide under the bed!” Rafferty screamed.

  Alice twisted the attacker’s arm and pivoted, one leg thrust behind him. He toppled backward and hit the floor with a thud. The gun barked in his grasp, the shot deafening inside the house, but Alice had it twisted away from her. She drove her fist into the attacker’s throat.

  He made a retching, choking sound, dropped his gun and clutched at his throat.

  “Mommy!” Susie screamed.

  The second gunman, still on the floor with a shattered knee, leveled his gun at Alice.

  Mike stepped over him, his Glock trained on the man’s forehead. “Don’t do it,” he warned.

  The gunman’s gaze flickered to Mike then back to Alice as he pulled the trigger.

  “No!” Geri screamed.

  “Mommy!”

  The bullet caught Alice in the stomach. She cried out as it threw her against the closet doors. The doors rattled.

  Mike’s shot caught the gunman full in the face. He twitched, then lay still, his face destroyed.

  “Call 911!” Mike threw over his shoulder as he rushed over to Alice. “Take it easy. The ambulance is on its way.”

  Alice looked up at him, shaky. “That will not be necessary, Constable. I don’t require an ambulance.”

  He looked down at the bullet hole and the blood on her clothes. “The hell you don’t. You’ve been shot.”

  “I know.” Alice swept the nightgown up, exposing her abdomen. “Twice in the last twenty-four hours. I believe you will find there’s also an exit wound if you’d care to look.”

  Mike knelt beside her, pulled her forward and peered down at her back. “Yep. Lots of blood. Big hole in the shirt.”

  She felt him tug the back of the shirt up.

  “What the…?” Mike stammered.

  She could feel herself healing.

  Mike shifted her back and looked down at her exposed stomach.

  She could feel that healing, too.

  She eased to her feet as he looked up at her, his jaw slack. She looked down into his eyes. “Now you see, Constable? I cannot be killed.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

  “I can see I’m going to have to speak with both you and your partner—"

  “Mommy!” Susie screamed from the top of the stairs.

  Geri rushed to the stairs and looked up. “It’s okay, Susie. Everything’s alright.”

  “No! Chrisy’s bleeding!”

  “What?” Geri paled and rushed up the stairs. “Oh my God! Marty!”

  Rafferty sprinted up the stairs. “Jesus Christ! That stray shot!”

  Alice peered up the stairs.

  “Mike, call an ambulance! Chrissy’s been shot!” Rafferty screamed.

  Alice grabbed Mike by the arm as he turned toward the kitchen. “That, also, will not be necessary, Constable. Trust me.” She rushed up the stairs. Geri had Christine cradled in her arms. Christine was pale and barely conscious. Blood stained the carpet at the top of the stairs. Rafferty knelt next to them.

  “Geraldine, give her to me,” Alice said softly.

  Geri looked up at her, tears flowed free down her cheeks.

  Alice nodded. “Trust me, Geraldine. She will be fine.” Alice reached forward and slid her arms under Christine’s still form.

  She gingerly lifted Christine from her mother’s arms and laid her on the carpet. The bullet had also hit Christine’s stomach and Alice quickly turned her over to check for an exit wound. There was none.

  “Good. No exit wound.”

  “Good? What do you mean good?” Rafferty cried.

  Alice held out her hand. “Constable, your knife, please?”

  Rafferty furrowed his brow. “My knife?”

  “Quickly now,” Alice said.

  Dazed, Rafferty pulled a folding knife out of his pocket and handed it to Alice. “Look after Susie and your wife, Constable. I’ll take care of Christine.”

  Rafferty gathered Geri and Susie into his arms.

  Alice heard Mike come up the stairs behind her.

  “Anything I can do?” Mike asked.

  Alice shook her head. “Just refrain from interfering, Constable.”

  She sliced Christine’s shirt open to expose the wound. Then she drew the point of the blade through the flesh of her own index finger. She tossed the blade on the floor, placed her finger above the wound and squeezed. Blood from her finger dripped into the wound.

  She could feel the finger healing. When the wound closed over, she sliced it to the bone, again.

  Beside her, Mike shook his head. “Fucking amazing.”

  As she squeezed, her blood dripped onto Christine’s wound. Alice wondered if Christine could feel it healing as she always did.

  When the bullet appeared, pushed out by the tissue knitting itself together, Rafferty and Geri both gasped. It emerged, rolled off Christine’s stomach and tumbled onto the carpet.

  Alice let her finger heal as the flesh over Christine’s stomach turned from red to pink to fully healed.

  The room swam before Alice’s eyes. “She will need some rest now. The healing is quite taxing on one’s constitution.” She was slurring by the end of the sentence. She listed to the sid
e and felt someone’s arms catch her as the darkness closed in.

  * * * * *

  When Alice woke, she was in the bed she’d woken in that morning. She looked at the curtains. No light showed from outside. She tossed the covers off. Her t-shirt had been changed. She’d have to apologize to Susie for her ruined nightshirt.

  She eased herself off the bed, still shaky, and made her way to the door and opened it. It was dark in the hallway.

  She took the same grip on the railing as she had that morning and struggled down the stairs to the landing.

  A full sheet of plywood was nailed over the ruined door frame and reinforced with two-by-four crossmembers.

  Bracing herself with a hand against the wall, Alice shuffled to the kitchen, where a low light was on.

  She sat in a chair and saw movement through the window, out on the deck. Rafferty and Mike were leaning on the deck’s railing.

  “You saved her,” Geri said, from behind Alice.

  Alice turned, startled.

  Geri sat on the far corner of the couch, shrouded in darkness.

  “Christine is well, then?”

  “By dinnertime, she was up running around with her sister and arguing with me about eating her lima beans, just like she always does.”

  Alice scrunched her face up. “Ghastly things, lima beans. I don’t blame her in the least.”

  Geri stood and walked into the kitchen, right up to Alice. “How can I ever thank you?”

  Alice shook her head. “Your thanks are not necessary, Geraldine. It is thanks to my being here that it happened in the first place.”

  The screen to the sliding door off the deck opened. Rafferty and Mike stepped inside, each holding a beer.

  “Hey, fourteen ninety-one!” Mike said and raised his bottle in salute.

  “There she is,” Rafferty said, smiling. “The hero of the day.”

  “No,” Alice said emphatically. “I am not a hero. It is entirely my fault in the first place.”

  “But you are a hero, in so many ways,” a raspy voice said from behind Rafferty and Mike.

  Alice peered past them. Rachel, Rafferty’s younger sister, wheeled her chair up to the sliding doorway, the scar across her face unmistakable.

  “Sister Jacobine.” Alice nodded. “I did not know you were out there.”

  Rachel’s eyes shone bright as her gaze fell on Alice. “Where else would I be? Family emergency and all that.”