Murder 42 - A Thriller (Sarah King Mysteries Book 2) (19 page)

43

The first thing Sarah saw when she stepped off the plane was Stefan. He was pacing back and forth, his hands in his pockets, staring down at the floor. Sarah went to him, and he looked up and grinned.

“Despite me asking you not come… I’m glad to see you again.”

She blushed and didn’t know what to say. The truth was, she was glad to see him, too. “Did you find anything at his hotel?”

He nodded. “A video from the ATM on the corner. I’ve got it ready to go on my laptop in the car.”

They hurried out of the terminal. Stefan was telling her how he had waited several hours after she’d called, and when Gio didn’t check in, he called in a missing agent report. Every officer and federal agent in the city was on the lookout for him. Sarah got the impression that he was trying to calm her, but she couldn’t be calm. She had seen what was waiting for Gio.

The car, a black sedan, waited out on the curb. They got in, and Stefan pulled down the laptop from the dash and played a video. It was grainy and black and white. Sarah could barely make out what was happening. But she did see a man who looked like Gio get out of his car and open a back door. Right behind him, someone slid out of a van, hit him in the head with something, and then lifted him into the van. The door slid shut, and the van pulled away.

Sarah felt as though she might throw up. “He has him.”

“We got some techs on the video to clear up the license plate. Every cop in the state is looking for him. We’ll find him.”

She shook her head. “No, you can’t. But I can. Take me to the hotel.”

“There’s nothing there. I think we should—”

“Please take me to the hotel.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Sarah didn’t speak as they drove. Stefan told her stories about people who had gone missing and then were found, but she didn’t really pay attention. She tried to focus her mind like a laser on one thought:
Gio
.

They arrived at the hotel. Sarah sat quietly for a moment before stepping out of the car. She crossed the parking lot to Gio’s car. The door was closed now, but when he had been taken it was open. Sarah closed her eyes and laid her hand on the car.

She saw him get out of the car and go to the backseat. He was reaching in when the man hit him on the back of the head. Sarah could see him. He didn’t cover his face. Tall and lean, white. He was strong, too—strong enough to lift Gio into the van. When he opened the doors, Sarah saw something flutter out of the car. A slip of paper. She wasn’t sure if the man noticed, but if he did, he did nothing about it. He shoved Gio in and slid the van door closed before leaving.

Sarah opened her mind and had to lean against the car. Her strength had left her and was replaced with pain. She spit. A glob of blood spattered on the pavement. Straightening, she scanned the pavement and underneath the car that had taken the van’s spot. Near the rear wheel was a bit of paper. She picked it up and looked at it as Stefan approached her.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she said. “Look at this.”

He took it, and a smile spread on his lips.

44

Top Shelf Storage sat in a large lot in Burbank. Stefan drove and Sarah sat in the passenger seat again, running her fingers along the receipt they’d found in the parking lot. The paper had once been held by
him
, and she’d hoped she could get something from it, but nothing came.

They parked out in front, and the owner was already there. Stefan had sent a local sheriff’s deputy to pick him up and bring him there when he protested that it was too late, and they were closed. The man wore a coat though it was easily seventy degrees, and he looked agitated and annoyed. He stood with his arms folded as they got out of the car and walked over.

“Don’t know why this couldn’t wait till morning,” the owner said.

Stefan handed him the receipt. “This man rented a storage unit here. I need access to it.”

“You have a warrant?”

“Don’t need one. Exigent circumstances. Now open the damn door.”

The man’s brow furrowed. He looked at Sarah as though for help and then back to Stefan. “Fine, be an asshole.” He looked at the receipt. “Over here.”

They followed him as he opened the gate and turned off the security alarm. He didn’t look back as he led them through the rows of storage units with orange entrances that looked like garage doors. He stopped before one halfway up an aisle and unlocked it.

“There.”

“Whose unit is this?” Stefan said.

“I’d have to check on the computer in the office.” Stefan didn’t move, and the man sighed. “Fine.”

As he stomped off, Stefan lifted the door, and both of them stared.

The unit contained what looked like painting equipment—brushes and cans, rollers, palettes and mixers, blank canvases, frames. Several finished paintings were leaned against the wall. Stefan stepped inside the unit. Sarah could tell he didn’t want to touch anything before forensics got there, so he just stared at it all.

“Look at this,” he said.

She joined him. He was staring at a painting leaned against the far wall. The man in it stared back at them. He looked like a king, with a fancy coat and jewels, but he was too modern to be a king.

Sarah stepped forward, having to maneuver around supplies, and then slowly reached up. The moment her fingertips touched the paint, she curled over and groaned.

A woman was screaming. She lay on her stomach on a bed, and a man sat on her back and slashed her. He cut her so deeply her spine was exposed. And then when she stopped moving he took a tube and plunged it into one of her wounds, blood cascading down the tube into a bucket. Sarah could see his face—it was the same man who had taken Gio.

Stefan had his arms around her, making sure she didn’t hit the floor. “What happened?”

“He uses blood for these paintings. He drains them of blood and mixes it with his paint.”

Stefan looked up at the painting.

“That’s…” she gasped, “that’s what the video is. It’s not some random child rapist, Stefan. He thinks he’s making art.”

Stefan held her up. “You’re bleeding.”

Sarah took out a napkin and went to dab at her nose, but the napkin came away dry. She felt tickling on her cheek and touched it. Pulling away, she could see blood on her fingertips. It was coming out of her eyes.

“You need a hospital.”

She stared at the blood. It looked black in the dim lighting. “I’ll be fine.”

The owner stormed into the unit with a slip of paper. He shoved it at Stefan, and Sarah could see it, too. It was a name, an address, a phone number, and email. But Sarah just kept reading the name: OLIVER HADRIAN FARKAS.

The precinct was buzzing with activity though it was nearly midnight. Stefan had brought her to a local LAPD police station, and she sat in the detective’s bureau. Stefan spoke with them and a couple of other agents from the FBI.

They ran Farkas’s name and came up with a history. Farkas was born to Zsofia and Gregory Farkas, immigrants from Hungary. He was homeschooled and briefly attended the University of Southern California, studying painting and art history. His criminal history was clean, except for one charge: an aggravated assault. One of his professors had been attacked in his home and beaten viciously with a baseball bat. Farkas was charged and arrested, but the charges were dropped due to lack of evidence. The professor had gone into a coma and never woke up. Without any witnesses, they couldn’t do anything.

“We’ve got three addresses for him right now,” Stefan said. “The apartment we raided, a condo in his name near the apartment we raided, and then an apartment in Watts, of all places. Not sure why he has that.”

Sarah spoke up. “It’s probably his work studio.”

Stefan nodded. “Sounds about right. If we’re gonna hit ’em, we’re gonna hit ’em both.”

Another officer began going over strategies and lamenting that they didn’t have more time. A commanding officer discussed use of the SWAT team. This would be a joint LAPD/FBI operation, and they had various protocols for the situation. Sarah pulled Stefan aside.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“He’ll be waiting for you.”

“So? He can’t fight a SWAT team.”

“He’ll kill Gio if he sees you coming.”

“He won’t see us coming.”

“He will. This is a guy who sat across the street and watched while you raided that other apartment. He’ll see you coming.”

He folded his arms. “Well, that’s the best we got unless you’ve got a better idea.”

“Let me go by myself. I mean, not by myself, but alone to the door. Let me talk to him and see if I can convince him to let Gio go.”

“What? That’s crazy. He could shoot you on the spot.”

She shook her head. “He won’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because that wouldn’t be artistic. He’s an artist, Stefan. That’s what he thinks he’s doing. Let me talk to him before you do anything. Please.”

He sighed. “I’m going to have snipers across the street.”

“No. Nothing that could tip him off. He doesn’t know who I am, he’ll have no reason not to trust me.”

“Sarah, you could die.”

“And if you raid that house, Gio will die. I know it. Farkas doesn’t care if he’s caught. It might even be part of his art; I think that’s why he was so careless with that receipt. But he’ll kill Gio. I’m going. If you want to help, give me a ride down there. Otherwise I’ll find someone else.”

He thought for a moment. “I’ll take you.”

45

No one spoke in the vehicle on the drive over. Stefan sat next to Sarah in the back, with two FBI agents up front. Stefan had asked her where she wanted to go, and she told him she wanted to go to his work studio. That was the most likely place he would be holding Gio.

“What’re you even gonna say to him? Pizza delivery?”

“No, I’m going to tell him I know who he is and that I need to talk. If I can touch him, maybe I can find something out about him, something that can form a connection and convince him to let Gio go. When Gio’s out of the house, you can do whatever you want.”

“Will you do one thing for me? Will you wear a mic?” Stefan pulled out a small device that looked like a garage door opener. “Just put it in your purse. If anything goes down, we’re raiding that house.”

She dropped the mic in her purse. Her mind raced, and her heart beat so furiously that she was scared it might stop, as if it only had so many beats in a lifetime, and she was using all of them up. Her mouth went dry, and she wished she had some water.

The section of Watts they drove to looked abandoned. Graffiti covered walls, telephone poles, broken business windows. She stared at people crossing the street, at men huddled together on corners though it was nearly two in the morning. The realization of how late it was surprised her. Normally by two in the morning she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Now, she felt as though she could run a marathon.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Stefan said as the driver pulled into an apartment building.

“It’s the best way to keep Gio safe.”

The car stopped, and she reached for the door handle. Stefan grabbed her and kissed her. It was a quick kiss to her lips, and he pulled away. She could tell he instantly felt ashamed.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I’m… just worried, I guess.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, opening the door. “Just don’t do anything until I have Gio out.”

The apartments were split into four buildings. The one Farkas rented was in the farthest building, and Sarah began the walk over there. The parking lot was empty, and all the lights in the apartments were off—all except one. She looked in and saw a couple in bed, staring at a television.

Farther down were a dirty pool and a small playground with toys strewn over it. She passed them without much more than a glance and kept her eyes on the building she was headed to.

The building was ugly, and she wondered what Farkas thought of it. Maybe the ugliness was somehow required for making his art. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind, put on her best smile, and went to the door. She knocked and waited.

The buildings were split into four apartments, and Farkas’s was on the bottom floor. Sarah took a step forward. She wanted as little distance as possible between her and Farkas. Within a few moments, the door opened.

Farkas looked taller in person. His head nearly touched the top of the door, and he was so pale that he looked sick. Sarah smiled as widely as she could and said, “I’m so sorry. My car broke down, and I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t have a cell phone. I was just hoping I could use your phone really quick.”

Farkas stared at her. His eyes narrowed slightly and then widened, and he grinned. “Of course. Come in.”

She followed him inside the apartment. As she’d guessed, the apartment was a work studio. There was no furniture, only painting supplies. The walls were coated in plastic, as was the floor. Only one lamp in the corner provided any illumination, but it was a black light, and Farkas’s pale skin was lit an even brighter shade of white.

“Wow. This like a painting studio or something?” she said.

“It’s where I work, yes. Let me get you that phone.”

“Sure,” she said with a smile.

Farkas went around the corner and disappeared into the other room. From there, he called, “You’re lucky I was still up.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know how late it is.”

“Where did your car break down?”

“Just out on the street.”

“Huh. Did you not see the convenience store across the intersection?”

“No, I did. I just thought this was closer.”

Farkas stepped out of the other room. Dangling from his hand was a blade that shimmered in the black light. Sarah’s guts tightened, and she instinctively took a few steps back until she touched the door.

“There is no convenience store across the intersection.”

Sarah swallowed. “Where is he? Is he going to be part of your art?”

“Not anymore. But you, Sarah, you will definitely be a part of something great. Something… luminous.”

“Is that what the
Murder 42
video was? Art?”

“Oh, yes. That. It was indeed. I wanted to make something that transcended all morality. Something so horrific to the average person that it would change their view of the world. That’s true art, isn’t it? Have you seen the video?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“And you’re not the same, are you? It’s… transformative.”

“Not for the child.”

“What’s one child’s life compared to an eternal work that will live for centuries? The child should be grateful she was allowed to participate in such a glorious undertaking at all.”

Sarah took one step to the side, nearer to the doorknob, and Farkas moved toward her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said.

“Where’s Giovanni?”

“Agent Adami isn’t here, I’m afraid. It’s just me and you.”

“Where is he?”

“Oh,” he said, taking a few steps across the living room, “I wouldn’t worry about him. I’d worry more about your own transformation.”

Sarah looked around. As far as she could see, the only other way out of the apartment was a window that had stacks of paintings against it. “You knew, didn’t you? About the receipt? You knew you left it there. A part of you wants to stop, Oliver. It’s the part of you that’s still human. Let me help you stop.”

He shook his head. “No, that part is dead.”

In a flash, he lunged at her. Sarah dodged away from him, tripping over some canvases. She got up and ran around the kitchen with him right behind her. She sprinted down the hall and into a room, slammed the door behind her and leaned against it with her back.

The tip of the blade crashed through the thin wooden door right next to her face, and she screamed. The blade withdrew. She hit the floor, and it hacked into the wood again, piercing right where her throat would have been.

Sarah got to her feet and ran to the windows, but it was too late. There was no lock on the door, and Farkas swung it open and stood there with a grin, staring at her as she tried to unlock the windows in the semi-dark.

“I have something glorious for you, something special. Because they say you are special. Are you special, Sarah? Do you see things others can’t?”

Sarah turned, her back to the wall. He stood in front of the only exit in the room, and she could see almost nothing. She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, and opened her mind.

A burning shot of agony went from her stomach, up her spine, and into her skull. She screamed and held her head, which caused Farkas to stop and consider her. She screamed again and looked up at him.

Her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe what she’d just seen. “That child… it was your daughter.”

Farkas smirked. “So you
can
see things, can’t you?”

“It was your own daughter. How could you do that? How could you put her through that much pain?”

“Art is pain. And even I must be willing to make sacrifices for it.”

“You’re right. You’re not human anymore.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever claimed to be,” he said, lifting the blade.

He rushed at her, stabbing into her stomach. The pain seared, and she nearly vomited, wanting to faint. Her knees were giving out, her muscles aching to let go. But not before she let him see what he did. She might die, but she wouldn’t let him get away. No matter what, there were some things that were unforgivable and needed a reckoning.

Sarah wrapped her hands around his head. “Take it!” she screamed. “Take it and see what she went through. See what your
art
did to her!”

Farkas’s eyes rolled back. He groaned, almost inaudibly at first, and then he began screaming and dropped to his knees. Her fingers dug into his skin, and she felt blood running out of him. All the pain his daughter felt, all the terror, it rushed into Farkas’s head. He felt it because Sarah felt it, and she let him see.

He screamed again, and Sarah grabbed the blade out of his hand and shoved it into his throat to the hilt.

Farkas gurgled, his blood spurting over her. She couldn’t see it, but she felt its warmth over her hands. He collapsed onto his side, the blood pooling around him. Sarah reached down and took the blade out, throwing it across the room. He would bleed to death much faster.

Just then, the door was kicked open, and Stefan and the two agents charged in, guns drawn. As Sarah watched them run to her, she became aware of a new warmth on her leg. It was her own blood, slowly leaking from her body into her boots. She felt the wetness on the bottoms of her feet before she collapsed.

“No!” Stefan shouted. “Call an ambulance!”

Sarah smiled. “He’s in one of the apartments,” Sarah said.

“What?”

“Gio. He keeps them near him. He has to be in one of the other apartments. Find him, Stefan.”

“You just hang on, don’t worry about him. I’ll find him. Just hang on!”