“What about my parents?” Dirk hated her mother and her. He was competitive and wanted all the attention of his father, who now shared it with his second wife and Cari, a product of Nalani’s first marriage. Dirk had hated her the moment he met her. He saw her as direct competition.
“They also have police protection.”
“But for how long?” Though Dirk had threatened her mother, the biggest part of his hatred was reserved for Cari. She’d seen him fire the handgun at his girlfriend, Denise, and murder her. He was a cold-blooded killer. In court, a psychiatrist had labeled him as sociopathic. His world consisted of his rules and regulations. He defied the laws of society at every turn.
By age twelve, he was selling drugs at his school. And that was when he became an addict. By age fifteen, Dirk had amassed a group of boys who sold the drugs over an even larger area where they had lived. And by the time she was sixteen years old, and saw him murder Denise, he was a regional drug lord. And as much as law enforcement tried to indict him for drug running, Dirk was incredibly intelligent and was able to avoid being caught.
Until Denise. She felt sorry for the girl then, as she did now. Dirk was a law unto himself. Cari wondered during the trial if he’d murdered other kids. If so, it had never been found out. But her intuition, which was very strong, told her that Denise had not been his first victim. Or his last.
“How long can you give us protection?” she demanded.
“Ma’am, we can’t do it forever, but we will make sure while we try and hunt him down, that you are protected twenty-four hours a day.”
That wasn’t much consolation because Cari knew how smart Dirk was. He hadn’t graduated high school, disappearing into the massive suburbs around their home with his gang. She’d seen it all happen with her own eyes, never interested in taking drugs or selling them, which he’d wanted her to do. She’d told her parents about his illegal activities, and they had talked with law enforcement, spent tons of money with psychiatrists and social workers, to try and “save” Dirk.
But none of that type of support had worked. Dirk was out of control with a fierce, focused need to have his own “army,” as he’d referred to his drug gang. And, he hated women. Especially her. Dirk had created a tattoo when he was twelve to make the boys around him feel like they were part of something special. Anyone wearing the Nazi swastika on their left forearm, with the word WARRIOR below it, indicated that he was one of Dirk’s followers.
Too often, Cari had seen him in school with his gang, bullying other boys and girls, as well as selling drugs anytime he could get away with it. He was always being sent to the principal’s office, always getting his hand slapped, but he wouldn’t stop. Adults didn’t scare him in the least. In fact, Cari wondered if anything scared him. She was sure as hell afraid of him.
She wondered about her parents. Were they still up? It was near four a.m. Should she call them now or wait until a decent hour? And what about herself? She usually took the bus into work, her car left in the garage beneath the townhouse. Was she safe to go out now or not? Was Dirk nearby? Watching where she lived? Waiting to jump her and put a bullet in her head like he had through Denise’s head?
A cold wash of terror, so deep and upsetting, flowed through her. Intuitively, Cari knew Dirk would go after her first. He hated her more than anyone else on earth.
Sitting on the bed, she heard herself say into the phone to the sheriff, “What if he jumps me on the way to work?”
“Ma’am, we don’t have those kinds of resources. The best we can do is to watch your townhouse.”
Her throat closed up with dread, her hand moving against her neck, her fingers tightening around the phone. “What can I do? How do I protect myself? Dirk hated me and he hates my mother. What if he goes to attack her?”
“We’ve already talked to your parents, ma’am. They know the realities of this. Maybe you should take a vacation and remove yourself from this area for a week or two? We hope to catch him by then.”
That was little comfort for something that was life-or-death to Cari. “A vacation?” There was derision in her tone. Disbelief. “That’s the best you can do to protect us?”
“We told your parents to hire a trained bodyguard who could provide around-the-clock protection. You could do the same.”
That blew her away. “I’m sure a personal bodyguard for hire would cost a fortune.”
“Yes, ma’am, it would be a lot of money.”
Anger wound through her. “Will you keep me and my parents informed on your search to find Dirk?”
“Yes, we will. Once he’s caught, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Did he escape alone or with others?”
“No. He was alone.”
“He had a huge drug ring. Wouldn’t it be logical that someone in that group helped him from the outside?”
“The prison is still trying to trace his steps to escape. I don’t have those answers yet, but once we do? We’ll be in touch with all of you.”
Her voice drained. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.” And she hung up, sitting there, staring at the window with the blind drawn. A bit of light leaked in around the edges of it. Living in the city meant she couldn’t see the stars at night, something she’d loved as a child. But now, having streetlights felt comforting, making her feel less unsafe.
What was she going to do? What? Her mind was a clash of questions and no answers. What if they didn’t catch Dirk? Prisoners had escaped before and disappeared. Why couldn’t he? And she knew he was like a chameleon. He was scarily intelligent, crafty, and strategic in his thinking.
She wiped her cheeks dry. Tears of fear.
The phone rang.
Cari jumped. Her heart took off in a wild staccato beat.
“Hello . . .” she whispered, afraid of who might be on the other end.
“Thank goodness you’re there.”
Relief plunged through her. It was her mother.
“Mom? Are you and Blake okay?”
“We’re fine, Cari. I just wanted to call you to see if you’d heard from the sheriff yet.”
“I-I just got off the phone with them. What are we going to do?”
“Not much except wait,” Nalani said, sadness in her tone.
“How is Blake taking this?” After all, Dirk was his son.
“Not well at all. He’s torn between Dirk maybe getting killed if law enforcement corners him, to Dirk hunting you and me down like he promised he would once he got out.”
That cold, icy hand gripped her heart again. “Yes,” she whispered faintly, “I’ve never forgotten, Mom.”
“Neither of us have. He’s so smart,” she said wearily. “A brilliant genius gone astray.”
Cari snorted. “He’s a cold-blooded murderer, Mom. I don’t care how smart he is.”
“You’re right, of course. We need a plan, Cari. What if they don’t capture him? I know in my soul he’s going after you first, and I’m tied in knots worrying about it.”
Her hand tightened on the phone. “Yes . . . he will. I feel so helpless. What can I do? I hate guns with a passion. I don’t want to learn how to carry or shoot one. I couldn’t kill anything, you know that. God, I’ve had such a wonderful life since graduating. I have a dream job, something I love. Everything was going so well . . .”