Shatter Point Page 23

  Terry would be stuck in this prison for a month, and he couldn’t take that. He had to make sure tonight was this Maggie’s last.

  He held a glass vial filled with a potent psychedelic drug he’d stolen from the pharmacy. Multiple warnings about side effects and proper dosage amounts peppered the outside of the bottle. He barely glanced at them, and dumped the entire contents of the vial into a freshly brewed cup of chamomile tea.

  Maggie had given him the idea for it. She had fire. No one else had stabbed Cooper before. Terry liked that spirit, but he needed to give her spirit a boost. Cooper would return soon, and by the time he arrived the drug should already be working.

  Lately, Cooper’s mood had been erratic, quick to anger. Hopefully tonight would be more of the same. Hopefully tonight Terry would have a chance to use the surgical instruments.

  Maybe he’ll even let me take out the heart.

  Terry lifted the tray and his spirits buoyed. One way or another, tonight would be stimulating. He needed Cooper to return to cut his Maggie Time short, and Terry had already made plans to dispose of her body.

  Jack tore his eyes from Aunt Jackie and studied the chief of staff, who lay on the floor. Tears streaked from his light blue eyes and his body trembled with fear.

  “How do you know? It has to be him,” Tom said. “If he’s not the right Cooper, then what are we going to do? We don’t have any other leads. Mom is running out of time. Aunt Jackie is dead. It can’t all be for nothing.”

  Moses is right. We don’t need the chief of staff. Jack couldn’t say exactly how he knew, but he was certain of it. His wasn’t the face that haunted his mind’s eye, but the monster was in the room, and he stood next to Steven.

  Jack ripped off his mask, rose to his feet, and pointed at the vice president. “He’s the Cooper we need. He’s the man we want.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m going to be the next president.” The vice president sounded indignant and his face turned red.

  Tom looked at Jack warily. “Are you sure?”

  “You’re going to have to trust me, Tom. There are times when you’ve to go with your gut. I’m sure!”

  Jack watched Tom’s face twist with doubts. He could almost hear him perform calculations and probabilities in his head.

  Finally, Tom nodded. “If you say so, I believe you.”

  ***

  Tom turned and faced the vice president. His mind made up, he narrowed his eyes and inched his way toward him.

  Steven leveled his handgun and aimed the weapon steadily at Tom’s chest. “Don’t come any closer, Tom. We can’t take him on a hunch.”

  The vice president shifted behind Steven to use him as a shield, resting one hand on Vanessa’s chair. She tried to push away, but he held the chair in place.

  “Jack’s word is good enough for me,” Gabriel growled.

  “Stand down!” ordered Steven.

  Everyone in the room froze.

  “I thought we needed someone named Cooper,” Moses said. “The vice president’s name is Peter.”

  “His full name is Peter Cooper Simmens,” Mary said. “Everything fits The Professor’s profile. He finished in the middle of his class at Princeton. He’s three years older than Maggie. He floated around different business divisions of the Simmens Group for years before he became a senator from New York. He became Vice President after serving only three years in the Senate. Ethel Simmens is his mother. I should have seen this before.”

  “That’s not enough.” Steven kept his gun pointed at Tom, but it looked heavy in his hand. Indecision had crept into his eyes.

  Tom had never seen that look on him before, and wondered if Steven could pull the trigger.

  Jack growled, “I know it’s him! I’ve seen his face. You have to believe me.”

  “You’re nothing but a bad tennis instructor! How dare you accuse me!” The vice president’s voice cracked as his eyes danced around the room. He hooted shrilly and pulled at his hair.

  Tom slid closer. “How do you know Jack is a tennis instructor?”

  ***

  Steven lowered his gun. As an expert interrogator, he now knew the truth. Peter Cooper Simmens was the Cooper they needed.

  He nodded at Tom. Sheppard had ordered him to keep the vice president safe, but Steven had seen the pictures. He knew Maggie and felt the worry from the boys. He would not protect this monster.

  His days of being a soldier were over. When he left the government, he thought he needed to take orders from someone else, someone better. Now he had Sheppard, a man he believed in, and his orders remained meaningless. He’d have to sort out his own decisions from now on.

  His hand trembled. He was more scared than he’d ever been.

  Steven spotted movement from the corner of his eye.

  The chief of staff lunged for a handgun only a couple of feet away on the floor, and grabbed it before anyone else in the room reacted.

  “Look out!” Vanessa shouted.

  The chief of staff leveled the gun at Moses.

  Gabriel dove at his friend and pushed him out of the way. Moses went flying, but the chief of staff discharged the weapon and shot Gabriel in the back. He went down hard.

  In a heartbeat, Steven leveled his gun and blasted the chief of staff in the head.

  “Gabe!” Moses rushed to his friend’s side.

  Maggie watched as Terry entered the suite carrying a tin tray with a freshly brewed cup of tea on it, whistling a happy tune and bouncing on his toes as he walked.

  “I thought you might like something hot to drink.” He smiled as he placed the tray on the small table beside her.

  She needed to know whether he would help her, and didn’t have much time left. Cooper’s volcano was bubbling up, and the next time they were together, one of them would die. She needed to warn her boys, and Terry was her only chance.

  “Did you contact my sons?” she whispered.

  He smiled. “You should drink the tea.” He handed her a full mug; steam circled above it. “I’ve added sugar the way you like it.”

  She took the mug. “What about my note? Did you reach my boys?”

  He nodded. “Yes, Maggie, I sent them a text message explaining everything.”

  She studied the expression on his face. She had raised two sons mostly by herself. They were good boys, but they had spun a yarn every once in a while, and her finely tuned truth meter suspected he was lying. “What number did you send the message to?”

  His eyes flickered. “I sent the text to the number on file. I think it was Jack’s number. Now drink the tea.”

  Maggie’s truth meter blared.

  He’s lying to me. He won’t help me.

  Anger swelled up in her. “You know what Cooper does here, don’t you? How many women have you helped him murder?”

  His face turned frigid as he leaned toward her and spoke through gritted teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you drink your tea? It will make you feel better.”

  Sensing danger, Maggie disarmed him with a smile. After working many years at a high-powered law firm, she’d learned how to disarm volatile, stressed-out attorneys.

  How hard could he be?

  “I’m sorry. I’m under so much stress. I know you’re helping me and would have nothing to do with such nastiness.” She glanced at the porcelain mug and inched it toward her mouth.

  He relaxed and his smile returned.

  Something is amiss.

  Maggie lowered the mug and peered inside. “What type of tea is this? It smells unusual.”

  “It’s chamomile. I’m sure it will help you rest.” He tried to sound sweet, but he balled his hands into fists and clenched his jaw tight.

  He’s too interested in the tea. Why does he care so much if I drink it?

  She glanced at the cup again. “I think there’s something swirling in the tea.”

  “There’s nothing in that mug.”

  His face turned red, and when he leaned close to exa
mine it, she thrust the cup at him. Hot tea scalded his face, and he squealed.

  Maggie grabbed the tin platter from the table and bashed it against his face, knocking him backward and toppling him to the ground. She jumped from her chair, raced to the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.

  What am I going to do now?

  Gabriel moaned as Jack and Moses removed his shirt and peeled off his armored vest. A nasty bruise had developed on his back, but only the tip of the bullet peeked through the armored material. It had held.

  ***

  Cooper cackled. He rubbed his manicured hands through his perfectly feathered hair, and muttered gibberish.

  Cornered, he couldn’t understand how they had found him, how they could have caught him. Rage ripped through him.

  I am Vice President of the United States! What are they? Nothing. Inferior stock.

  He shuddered, furious. Animal instinct warned him that he was in trouble, and he fought hard to keep himself together.

  I have superior genes.

  He snapped out of his fog, furious yet lucid. “I used to go by Cooper when I was young. I always liked that name better, but Ethel preferred Peter, and Ethel always gets what she wants.”

  “How could you hurt all those women?” Mary asked.

  “Those women were nothing. I took them away from a miserable life and gave them everything. They were lucky to be with me. They had a moment in the sun instead of a lifetime in darkness.”

  “You killed them!”

  “They had to die. They were no good. They deserved to die. I needed to understand why... why Maggs refused me. The secret should have been inside them. It was their fault.”

  He brushed his hair, straightened his tie, and smiled. “But I never found the reason. No matter how hard I searched or how much I hurt them. Now I understand. Maggs was the problem all along. She was the defective one!”

  A wild fury grew inside him. “I hate her! She has to die, has to die, has to die!” He lowered his head and stared at the floor, half-expecting a trap door to spring open at any moment and for him to fall through and plummet to hell.

  ***

  The maniac started muttering to himself.

  Tom leaped over the table and landed at his side. “Where’s my mother?”

  A wicked smile graced Cooper’s face. “I like hurting your mother. I’ve always liked it.”

  Tom slapped him hard across the face, and blood trickled out of his mouth.

  “You will never find her.” The words floated in a slow, high-pitched, singsong voice. “Never ever find her.” He closed his eyes tight and clamped his hands over his ears.

  Steven pulled a five-inch hunting knife from his vest and held the blade to his throat. “Tell us where she is.”

  Cooper twisted his face furiously, and laughed uncontrollably. He pulled at his hair and stumbled backward against the wall, searching the room frantically, as if seeing people who weren’t there. “I don’t want children! Why am I never good enough? Mom!”

  He twisted and stared at the wall behind him. “Stop staring at me! I don’t want to be President. Who are all you people? You have no right to be here. Make your own decisions! Stop asking me! Go away, Grandfather, and leave me alone! I’m not weak! I killed you! I killed all of you!”

  Steven glanced at Tom. “I can’t interrogate him like this. He can’t separate real from unreal. I tried questioning someone else in the same condition a long time ago. It was useless. I had to slit his throat in a mercy killing. Even drugs won’t help.” He lowered his knife from Cooper’s throat.

  Cooper tore the fine cotton collar of his shirt and scratched at his face, breaking the skin. Blood trickled down his left cheek as he turned and faced Tom straight on. He seemed to look right past Tom—through him.

  “Help me!” He spun away and stared at the wall, sobbing. “Why won’t you live with me and my parents? I don’t want any of it. I just want you!”

  He twisted and laughed again. “Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock! What’s wrong with me?”

  He continued spouting random thoughts and jabbing at things not there. He pulled out his hair in chunks, twisted in place, and clawed at his face.

  Finally, he collapsed on the floor and shook violently.

  ***

  Tom turned toward Jack, whose face clouded with uncertainty. “He’s reached the shatter point, Jack. How are we going to find Mom now?”

  “Maybe I can pry the truth out of him.” Jack sighed. “Something is wrong with me. It’s more than sensitivity to light or noise. I’ve been seeing visions. At first, I thought they were daydreams, but they’re more than that. That’s how I knew he was the Cooper we needed, and what was in Aunt Jackie’s bag, and that you’d been fighting with Mary. Even now, I see things from his mind—disturbing things—but they’re hazy, as if hidden behind the insanity. When I touch someone, the visions sometimes become clearer, stronger. If I grab him, I might learn where he’s holding Mom.”

  Tom felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He knew Jack needed help, but he didn’t know his condition was this bad. “Is it dangerous?” He knew the answer but had to ask anyway.

  Jack shrugged and stalked toward Cooper.

  “Wait!” Tom stood in his path. “Those were the times when you got the worst headaches. You were unconscious for five minutes at the lodge. I can’t lose you again.”

  He thought he had lost Jack four months ago when he lay in that coma, and a hole ripped opened in his heart that had never fully closed. He’d sworn he would never lose him again, but that hole tore open again; only this time the pain was even worse.

  “I’m not sure I ever fully came back.” Jack turned to face George, who stood at the right hand corner of the room. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Darian’s been trying to reach you. There are still treatments we can try.” He offered the right words, but his face told a different story.

  Tears swelled in Tom’s eyes.

  Jack squeezed his arm. “You’re a good brother. The best! I wouldn’t trade you for anyone. This is our only chance to save Mom. I know she’s running out of time. I feel it. We have to do whatever it takes to save her. I need to do this. You’d do it for me. You did do it for me.”

  Tom tried to breathe, but the air caught in his throat. All he could do was nod and step aside. His legs turned to liquid and he did his best not to collapse to the floor.

  ***

  Jack wrapped his bloodied hands around Cooper’s throat. Electricity jolted through him, the pain in his head intense.

  He dove into Cooper’s mind, finding a kaleidoscope of thoughts, one merging into another. Trying to sort through the fragments, he drifted among Cooper’s visions, feeling rather like he was in a raft circled by sharks. He searched for Maggie, and found her face, but she swam away from him—just under the surface. He concentrated on her image, and bits of memory flashed into his mind—she was in their apartment, and a note fluttered to the ground.

  Jack groaned as his head split open, but he increased his concentration and bore down deeper. He experienced a sharp pain in his leg, as if someone had stabbed him, and then he caught something—a sign for a hospital.

  Tom’s voice, full of worry, floated on the sea of thoughts. The words sounded garbled, as if they came from the other side of a wall. He tried to hear them clearly but couldn’t.

  Then he saw Aunt Jackie’s face. The collar of her shirt was open and the top of a horse tattoo peeked out. Suddenly, she looked young again and beautiful, but her voice sounded old and raspy, as she’d sounded before she died.

  “Get going, sonny boy!”

  Somehow he found the strength and pushed Cooper away.

  Jack opened his eyes and his body shook. White-hot pain seared through his skull and pierced through bone. His words slurred together. “She’s at the New York Hospital in the mental ward.”

  He looked at Tom through watery eyes. Tom’s face fractured and the pieces scattered as rage flooded through Jack. He saw the
women Cooper had ravaged—all of them. He felt Cooper’s excitement and heard his sick thoughts. He tried to escape, to bury Cooper, but he couldn’t. The feeling intensified and grew first white hot, then black, and....

  What now? Maggie scanned the bathroom.

  Slam!

  Terry must have left the suite. She breathed as deeply as her broken ribs would allow and tried to clear her mind.

  I need time.

  She stared at the closed bathroom door, knowing that it offered her no real safety. Terry would come back. She needed one last chance to kill Cooper. There had to be something, some way to keep Terry away from her.

  She noticed a small, thin metal plate by the side of the door, and it hit her. Electricity operated the door, but if she opened the plate and disable the motor, it would slow him down.

  She grabbed the nail clippers from the dresser and pried open one of the small and pointy attachments. Good enough.

  Two Phillips head screws held the metal plate in place. Using the attachment from the clippers, she loosened the screws until the plate popped off.

  What now?

  Her strengths had always been in the arts and her ability to connect with people. Science was foreign to her, but she had raised Tom. He lived science, and after seventeen years of home experiments, she had learned a few things.

  She studied the wires—red, green, and black. Her hands twitched between the three. Their doorbell at home used the same configuration; Tom had fixed it two years ago while she watched over his shoulder. She closed her eyes and summoned the image.

  He’d chatted incessantly about the electricity.

  What did he say?

  He’d rambled about currents and proper grounding....

  Finally, she heard his voice. “The red one is the hot wire. The green one connects to the motor and the black is a ground. It’s important....”

  She bit her lip. What did he say next?

  “It’s important the red and green wires don’t touch. That would blow out the motor.”