Luther glanced back at Donaldson, saw the blood draining out of the hole where his ear used to be. He turned around and stuck his finger in the hole, holding Donaldson’s head while he screamed. Blood rushed out, and then the flow eased.
“That better?” Luther asked. “I’m kind of tired of repeating myself.”
Donaldson fell to his knees, and then rolled onto the ground. Luther raised up a boot over Donaldson’s bad arm, and the fat man began to blabber.
“She’s a cop,” Donaldson moaned. “Busted a bunch of serial killers. In person, she’s cute. But strong. And smart. I really wished I’d had a chance to dip my wick. Been thinking about going back and looking her up, after I heal.”
Donaldson squinted at Luther, who had found a rusty kerosene lamp with a little gas left hanging from the rafters. He used his Zippo to fire it up and hung it on a rusty nail. A soft, orange glow filled the barn.
“You think you’re going to get that chance now?”
“That depends on you. I’m at your mercy.”
“Yes, you are. You know how this little game usually turns out, don’t you?”
“I know. Can’t say I really care all that much at this point, either.”
“You’re not afraid of death?”
“Brother, I AM death.”
Luther seemed to consider it. Then he walked over and kicked Donaldson in the arm.
“And I am PAIN,” Luther said. “I’m a lot worse than death.”
Donaldson grabbed his swollen appendage and whimpered through the pain until he found his voice again. “Why so interested in that cop? Got a thing for women in uniform? Or… wait a sec… you’re going to make a run at her, aren’t you?”
“I know you think you’re the best at what you do. Obviously, the fact that I’m here, healthy and comfortable, refutes that. There is no one like me in the world. I need a challenge.”
“I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help. Clearly.”
“You could use someone to watch your back. This one isn’t easy. Trust me. She’s a tough nut to crack. We could… hunt her together.”
Luther knelt down and looked Donaldson in the eyes.
“Two more questions and then we can move on to other things. I want your opinion. Is Jack Daniels lucky? Or is she really better than you are?”
“Bitch got lucky.”
“How about me? Did I get lucky, too?”
“Every dog has his day,” Donaldson said, then spat in Luther’s face.
Luther wiped the trail of saliva away with one finger and touched his tongue to it.
“How about Lucy? Looks like she did quite a number on you. Did she get lucky? Or maybe it isn’t luck. Maybe you’re just a used-up, fat piece of shit, and that’s why Lieutenant Daniels beat you. Why Lucy beat you. And why I’m about to beat you. To death.”
Luther kicked Donaldson in the chest, and then began to stomp on the man, using his boot heel.
At first, Donaldson tried to cover up, protect himself.
Eventually he stopped trying.
“That’s just a taste,” Luther said, delivering one final kick and wiping the blood off his boot and onto Donaldson’s heaving chest. “I’ll be back when I move the cars. Stick around, make yourself at home.”
Luther strolled out of the barn and disappeared.
Donaldson struggled to sit up.
“Lucy!” he whispered.
He rolled over and took her tiny face in his hands. Shook her head.
“Wake up!”
He smacked her face three times, and she stirred, her eyes fluttering opening.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“He’s gone.”
“Who?”
“Luther, you dumb bitch. He shot you with a tranq dart. Something short-acting.”
Lucy sat up, moaning. “The nerve block has almost worn off. My legs are on fucking fire.”
“Take a number and join the club.”
“Where are we? It stinks in here.”
“A barn. Your friend, Luther, is not a nice man. I can’t walk and carry you. You can’t walk at all. Where are the keys to these handcuffs?”
Lucy rubbed her eyes. “What?”
“The keys, you stupid-”
“Oh.” She grinned. “It’s like…kind of embarrassing.”
“Look, if we can get these cuffs off, I can surprise him when he comes back. Then we can take his car. But I can’t do that if we’re fucking chained together.”
“Why should I help you? That man… Luther… is my friend.”
“That man ain’t anybody’s friend.”