Eleventh Hour

“It’s finally time for you. For more than thirty years you’ve thumbed your nose at everybody. Now it stops. No more time for any big announcements to anyone else from you. It’s simple justice, you know it.”

“You think you can manage it this time when you didn’t the last two times, you little wimp?”

“I was trying to scare you, not kill you, you monster. I didn’t think I’d have to kill you then. Is your brain so far gone you can’t remember that?

“But this time, I am going to kill you. All your threats to tell the world what you are will die with you. After that fall you took—I really hoped you’d die, but you’re still tough, aren’t you? Why didn’t you make your big announcement?”

Captain DeLoach said, grinning widely, “Of course I’m tough, but no one could tell that by looking at you, you little pussy. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to torture you more, boy. Make you wonder, worry when the blow was going to fall. Threatening your daddy, trying to scare him—nearly to death—that’s not a nice thing, you know. And you left me there, lying on the floor, my head all bloody.”

“Shut up. No more abuse from you, old man, no more.”

“I’m still your only daddy, you puking coward. Jesus, I can’t believe that you’re actually part of me, although your mother was weak, always whining, just like you. And then she died, and it was just you and me, but you weren’t strong, you weren’t a man, you were just like her. And then you just up and left after high school, believed you’d escaped me. Well, I was sick of you, I wanted you out of there.

“But I kept tabs on you, boy. After all, you were the only one who knew. I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t ever tell anyone. And now you want to kill your own daddy.”

“Quiet! Just shut up, damn you. No more threats, no more lies. I’m going to send you to hell, where you belong.”

Weldon paused a moment, then said, “What I really can’t believe is just how long you’ve lasted.” He reached into his pocket.

Nick said, “No, Weldon, you’re not going to do anything to your father. Step away from him.”

Weldon DeLoach jerked up, appalled and surprised as he looked into the muzzle of the SIG Sauer, held in the hand of that homeless woman he’d seen on TV. What the hell was she doing here? He straightened slowly, took a step back.

The old man laughed, rubbed his arthritic hands together. “She’s my own personal bodyguard, Weldon. You thought there was only two cops. Not a chance. She’s here, staying right in my room. What do you think about them apples? She sharp, or what? Salute her, Weldon, she’s with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. She’s a special agent.”

Weldon kicked at his father’s wheelchair, missed, and yelled, “You moron, she’s not a cop. She’s a homeless woman who just happened to see things that would make her a real danger to the murderer.”

“What shouldn’t she have seen, Weldon?”

“The murderer just after he killed the priest in San Francisco.”

“Hey, does she think it’s you?”

Weldon was still blond today, deeply tanned, his eyes a pale blue. Nick wasn’t at all good with guessing people’s age, but if she had to, she’d say he was easily in his forties. Was it makeup? Contacts? Or was this the way he really looked? Nick simply didn’t know if he was the man she’d seen in the church. Maybe disguised, but she knew she’d be useless in court. She held the gun steady, knew she had to get him down to the floor, get him tied up so she could breathe again, so she could think, get help. She was scared, almost as scared as she’d been when she had faced John Rothman.

Still, she had to try. She said, “To be real accurate, Weldon, yes, I saw you.” She continued, now looking back at the old man, “Sir, I saw Weldon in a church just after he’d murdered Father Michael Joseph. And he’s killed other people as well. He wrote TV scripts, then copied them in real life. I’m sorry, but he is a very evil man.”

Captain DeLoach said, “Hey, you really mean that? Nah, that doesn’t make any sense. Weldon’s a pussy. No spine in that back of his, just mush. You really a homeless woman? Fancy that, I won’t have to pay you, will I? You don’t expect anything because you’re not an officer, right?”

“Right, this is for free,” Nick said, not looking at the grinning old man, who really did sound pleased as punch.

“You said Weldon is a murderer? He’s really a criminal?”