The End of Evil

Junie had barely come to live with her new owners when ugly reality intruded on their idyllic world. Her search for a Master had caught the attention of a serial killer and she had barely escaped being his next victim. He was caught and facing trial; but now Junie had to testify. The whole idea of leaving her new home was more than she could bear to think about.

But she had to do it. Not only was there a subpoena, there was Monica. Her new friend, Monica, the only other woman to escape with her life, was a tiny fragile thing. Her body was barely healed from the horrific trauma of her assault and if Monica could be brave enough to face court and the man who had mutilated her, Junie knew she had to do it too, for Monica's sake.

Junie knew she was not going to have to do it alone. Her owners, Bob and Donna, were going to be there with her every step of the way. She knew she couldn't do it without them.

Chapter 13: Escape

Bob's eyes were instantly alert and scanning the crowd. He took Junie's arm in his hand and pulled her to walk beside him. Junie looked up at him, confusion on her face, "What? Where are we going? I can't leave. I am supposed to be at the courthouse." She pulled back, trying to get free from his hand.

Bob gave her a little shake and growled, "Be quiet, girl, and obey. I will explain later." Junie looked up at him with frightened eyes and let him hurry her along into the parking garage.

It was quieter in the parking garage, but it seemed to Donna that Bob seemed even more tense and alert. Suddenly she became aware that if Sam Card was loose, he could be anywhere; that they could be in danger. She looked around the concrete structure, suddenly aware of how many places someone could hide in there. She turned frightened eyes to her Master and realized that he had a dangerous aggressive stance; that he had instantly changed from his role of waiting and watching. He was in charge now and protecting Junie and her was his only focus.

As soon as they were in the SUV, Donna locked all the doors and then turned on the radio, scanning one station to another, trying to find some news. Again Junie spoke up, "Where are we going? If I don't show up to court, I will get in trouble."

Donna reached down and handed Junie the waste basket. "Junie there won't be any more trial for a while. Sam Card has escaped from jail."

A tiny whimper leaked out of Junie right before she vomited. Donna continued, "Now, Junie, that is all I know. I need you to be quiet so I can listen to the news and find out what is going on. We are going to go to the rental and try and get in contact with the court people and let them know we are there and find out what they want next." Junie panted nervously, her breathing was uneven and shallow, but she nodded. Donna thought her eyes seemed so large that they took over her whole face.

Donna searched from one radio channel to the next, but there seemed to be only music and strange talk radio shows. She muttered angrily about the sad state of media news. As soon as they got home she pointed at the television in the front room. "Does that thing work?"

"Works fine." Bob did not explain how he knew.

Donna grunted, "Make it work. Find a local channel. I want news."

Bob looked at Junie standing, looking lost in the center of the room, her huge eyes looking around fearfully. "Girl, you heard your Mistress, turn on the television."

Junie did not move. It was like she had not heard what he had said. She swallowed and gagged, and then spoke in a quavering voice, "Are you sure?"

Bob looked at Donna, "Keep an eye on her. I will do the television in a minute. I want to check the house."

Donna looked at him frowning and confused, but he ignored her and walked around the house making sure that the doors and windows were locked. He pulled down the shades. Slowly realizing he was still very much alert, she felt a prickle of fear across her skin. "You don't think he would come here? How would he know where we are?"

Junie made a terrified sound, rushed to bathroom and threw up again. Bob shook his head, "I don't know what he knows. All I know is a monster is loose and, until he is caught, I am going to be fucking careful." He picked up the remote control and began to flip through the channels. Soon he found a local channel, but there was an advertisement on it. Donna stood impatiently in front to the TV, glaring at it.

Junie crept back into the front room and curled up on the couch, hugging her knees. A convulsion shook through her; her voice was a panicked squall, "Oh god, does Monica know?"

Donna looked sharply at Junie, "Monica was with David. He will keep her safe."

The advertisement ended and the image of the courthouse unfolded. A grim looking man in a suit was standing in front of it with a microphone in his hand. "Welcome back to the ongoing coverage at the courthouse, I am Graham Best. Today at around 11:30 a.m. a guard was found dead and the man he was guarding is missing." A police photo of Sam Card was flashed across the screen. "Sam Card was at the courthouse for his trial for rape and attempted murder." A second picture flashed across the screen. A press photo of R. P. Sanders looking serious, holding a pen. "Also missing is the famous true crime author and member of the defense team, Rachel Penelope Sanders." The picture cut back to the courthouse and the man with the microphone. "Police report that the entire courthouse has been searched and they are expanding their search to the entire Portland Metro area. Unconfirmed reports say that R. P. Sanders' vehicle is missing. The police will not comment as to whether R. P. Sanders is a hostage or has aided the fugitive in his escape." The newsman began to talk about the trial and the crimes Sam Card had been charged with.

Junie was gasping and choking, repeating to herself over and over, "Oh god, oh god, oh god."

Bob sat down and pulled her into his arms. "Junie, I won't let anything happen to you. You are safe. Remember that. You are safe. Say it back to me."

Junie stammered, "I... I... am safe."

"Good girl."

Bob looked at Donna, "Make some calls. Find out what's going on."

Again Leena's cell phone went straight to voicemail, but this time it was not full. Donna took some comfort in the knowledge that Leena was at least checking her messages and left a message. "This is Donna Campbell. When we heard that Sam Card had escaped, we came home. I did not want Junie on the street when she found out. Call me and let me know if we need to come back to the courthouse."

Donna was surprised when Agent Durant answered his phone. His voice was clipped and terse, "Where are you?"

"We are at home, at the rental."

"Is Junie there?"

"Yes."

"Lock the doors. Don't leave. I can't talk now. I will call when I can." He hung up without saying anything more.

Donna looked at the phone in her hand and looked up at Bob. "David says to stay here. He says he will call back."

Junie whimpered, "Can we go home?"

Bob held her close and rocked, "Say it again, Junie."

"I am safe." She did not sound at all convinced.

FBI Agent Durant looked at his cell phone. He snapped it shut. He had tried to call Junie multiple times, but her cell phone was turned off for some reason. He did not have Donna Campbell's number with him and had been glad to get her call. At least he knew where they were. He was glad that Donna had the good sense to go home. Now if he only knew where Monica and her mother were, he would feel a lot better.

He thought back to the argument he had with Monica's mother and him walking out of the restaurant. Monica's mother was not answering his calls. He was pretty sure they were headed home. He had a police officer on the way to their house to inform them of the escape and to stay with them.

The car he was in pulled up in front of the building where R. P. Sanders had an apartment. Nobody could find the manager to unlock the door, so he had a city police officer with a heavy battering ram to break down the door. He was damned if he was going to wait for a locksmith. He banged on the apartment door and when there was no answer, he pulled out his gun and nodded to police officer, "Knock it down."

There was a sturdy deadbolt on the door and it took several solid blows to break the door jamb. When the door swung open Agent Durant went in with his gun ready. The police officer was close behind him. It took seconds to determine that no one was in the apartment. Agent Durant looked around. The place was a mess; clothing, papers and half eaten to-go cartons of food littered the rooms. He began to look at papers and almost immediately he picked up a picture of a house. He recognized the brick rental cottage that Bob, Donna, and Junie were at. Under the photo was a report from a private detective. He had followed Donna and Junie home from the courthouse the day they had met with the judge.

Picking up his phone he called a friend at the police department. "I need a unit to go out to another residence. I will explain later. I just want a guard there. It looks like Sanders knew where the second witness was staying. I don't trust her. Yes, I am sure he is going after them. That was all he thought about."

Dialing Donna's number he spoke tersely into the phone, "Donna, this is David. No, just listen. Sanders knew the address of your rental. I have a police officer on his way over to guard you. I will explain later."

His eyes fell on a stack of yellow notepads covered in writing. The penmanship was messy and the letters were large and angular. He recognized Sam Card's writing and picked one up and began to read. His mouth went dry when he realized that he was reading the killer's own description of the first time he had ever killed a woman. He leafed through the notebook and then a second, seeing names of women he recognized from his own investigations and names of women he did not recognize. He looked at the stack of notebooks and estimated that there must be at least a dozen there. His hands began to shake as he gathered them up.

Monica sat sullenly in the passenger seat of her mother's car. She had declined to go into the accounting firm where her mother worked, preferring to wait in the car. Her mother had insisted on taking a detour to her place of employment to pick up something. Monica was too angry to listen to what. Ever since her mother's refusal to believe that R. P. Sanders had betrayed them, Monica had given up listening to her mother and spoke only when absolutely necessary.

Today at lunch, her mother's dismissal of Monica's joy at having her court testimony behind her, her not so thinly veiled dislike of Agent Durant and her attitude that Monica had somehow been to blame for what had happened had boiled over and Monica had said she was going to move out. Her mother had called her a little stupid slut and David had blown up and then the two of them had started yelling. The next thing she knew, David was walking out of the restaurant and she was too cowardly to chase after him.

Her mother came out and climbed into the car and started it without speaking. Monica turned her head and looked blindly out the side window.

When they got to their house, a city police car was just pulling up. He waved at them and Donna's mother got out of the car and approached them. Monica got out and heard her mother arguing. "I don't believe it. He is lying. He is just harassing us."

Monica looked curiously at the police officer, "What?"

"Miss Bond?"

"Yes?"

Monica's mother interrupted, "Don't listen to him."

Monica waved at her mother dismissively, "What is it that she does not want you to tell me?" Her mother threw up her hands in frustration and marched toward the house.

"Miss Bond, there has been an escape from the courthouse. Sam Card has escaped. I am here to make sure you are guarded until we can move you to a more secure location."

Monica's knees sagged and she staggered back. If the policeman had not caught her, she would have fallen.

After that, it was like everything was in slow motion; her mother's screaming seemed to come from far away. It was muted and fuzzy like Monica was once more hearing sounds through layers of blankets. She turned slowly to see her mother running out of the house, her mouth gaping wide as she screamed and screamed. The policeman dropped her, drew his gun, and ran toward the house as she fell to the ground. Happy ran out the door of the house, trotted up to her and began to joyfully lick her face. Monica blinked and looked at her puppy's feet. They were covered in blood.

Monica had no memory of moving or being moved into the back of a police car. She was holding Happy in her lap, clutching the puppy to her chest and rocking, ignoring the puppy's whimpers and wiggles to get free. There must have been a dozen police cars parked along her street. Blood was smeared on her white blouse from the puppy's feet.

Her mother was standing talking to a group of police officers; her voice was loud and hysterical. "What are you going to do? How did he get in? Where is he now?" Monica tipped her head to one side and watched as her mother screamed at the policemen and waved her arms around.

Slowly she got out of the car and walked up to a man in a black suit, talking on a cell phone. Still cradling Happy, she stood quietly in front of him and gently, insistently, tugged at his jacket. He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked down at her, initially irritated to be interrupted, but then seeing the blood on her clothing, he asked, "Are you all right, ma'am?"

Monica nodded and spoke in a soft little girl's voice, "Are you an FBI man?"

"No, ma'am, I am with the police."

"I need to talk to David Durant with the FBI. I know his phone number if I can use your phone please." She reached for his phone and would have taken it out of his hand if he had not lifted it out of her reach. Monica frowned, "It is very important that I talk with David Durant. He is an FBI agent."

Monica felt a hand on her arm and turned to see her mother pulling at her. Her mother's lips were moving, saying something, but Monica shook her arm free and said softly, "You get away from me."

The man in the black suit turned and pointed at a large black car pulling up, "If you want to talk to the FBI, that's them just pulling up."

Monica smiled and murmured softly, "Thank you very much," and began to walk toward the car, ignoring the strange sound and movement that was her mother.

Two men in familiar dark suits were getting out of the car. Monica walked directly up to the closest one, blocking his movement. When he looked down at her, she smiled her voice small and soft, "Hello, I am Monica Bond. I need to speak to David Durant. He is an FBI agent. He is in Portland. I know his phone number."

The man nodded without speaking and handed her his cell phone. Monica smiled a little more broadly, like she had finally found what she was looking for. She dialed David's number and when he answered she spoke in her tiny voice, "David, this is Monica. I need you." Then she handed the phone back to the man who had given it to her and sat down abruptly on the ground to wait. Happy tried to squirm free again.

The FBI agent spoke on the phone, "Yes, she is okay. She just seems pretty shaken up. We will. Yes. Okay."

The FBI agent leaned down and spoke softly. "He is already on his way down here, ma'am. He figures he will be here in a half an hour. Do you want to wait in the car?"

Monica looked at him and solemnly shook her head. "No, thank you, I just need David."

By the time Agent Durant had arrived the puppy had stopped trying to get out of Monica's lap and sensibly gone to sleep. Monica sat still, her large blue eyes looking at the chaos going on around her. When a man with a microphone tried to approach her to ask questions, one of the FBI agents had warned him off and a police officer was assigned to stand near her. Agent Durant's instructions had been very clear. Make sure she was not hurt, make sure she does not go into the house and leave her alone.

They could not prevent the reporter from taking pictures and the next day a picture of Monica sitting on a sidewalk surrounded by police cars, holding a half grown golden puppy, her face a strange mix of serenity and shock was on every news wire in the US. It became a symbol of the whole manhunt.

David watched her from a distance, every fiber of his being needed to go to her. But he knew once she knew he was there, he would not be able to talk and he desperately needed to get information.

He had been on the phone all the drive down. The body in Monica's house had to be Sanders; the clothing and the size was right, but it was so mutilated it they were going to have to wait for fingerprints to know for sure. For some reason Card had seemed to focus all his rage on her face. Not only had she been savagely beaten, but then he had systematically slashed at the battered flesh until the body was unrecognizable. The first police officer on the scene suspected he had been gone only minutes when he first entered the crime scene. The body was still bleeding when he checked for a pulse.

As soon as the officer determined that the body in the house was deceased he had returned to make sure that Monica and her mother were safe and called in the murder.

At the back door Agent Durant put on a pair of cloth surgical shoe covers and entered the crime scene. The first thing he noticed was the dozens of small, bloody, paw prints covering the floor. The puppy had obviously walked through the blood and tracked it through the house.

R. P. Sanders' body was on the floor of the small front room. Her hands and feet were tied together and her face was a mass of slashed and pulped flesh. Agent Durant clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. On the phone they had not mentioned the one intact eye open and staring out in horror, a tiny piece of identifiable humanity in a mass of raw meat.

A medical examiner was photographing the body. Agent Durant asked, "How long has she been dead?"

The doctor looked at his watch, "Less than an hour. It looks like the last wound was this one on the throat." He pointed a long deep gash. "I will have to wait until I get her back to the morgue, but my best guess is he did this when the police car pulled up and then went out the back. The police officer reported she was still bleeding when he found the body. So she died about the time he walked into the room."

Agent Durant looked around and cringed to see the old Cocker Spaniel dead in his bed, his throat cut. David raised his eyes to the ceiling, looking past the spots of blood on the popcorn texturing. Silently, he sent a thank you to his god for the fact that Monica was not hurt, that she had not seen this and that, for some odd reason, Happy was still alive.

"Is there any other evidence here?"

"Crime scene isn't done fingerprinting or taking DNA samples, but other than that we didn't find anything."

He walked into the kitchen and saw that the knife drawer was open and empty. "He took all the knives." The refrigerator was standing open, but Agent Durant could not see anything out of place. "Make sure that the crime scene guys process everything in here. He might have taken a drink out of the milk carton or something like that."

The medical examiner looked over his shoulder. "We got a good team. If there is something here, they will find it. They will run the bathroom too. If he washed his hands or took a piss, they will find it."

Agent Durant went back out the back door and took off the shoe covers. He walked back around and approached Monica. She was sitting still, gently rubbing at the dried blood on her puppy's feet. He knelt down, "Hey, pretty girl."

Monica looked at him, and her face lit up. "Oh, David, you are here. I knew you would come." A shadow fell over her face. "You need to help me. Happy is hurt." She pointed at the blood on her puppy's paws.