Saturday. 12:30 A.M.
‘Is he dead?’
McCabe turned and saw Maggie leaning against the door frame, watching, her weapon in her hand. Even in the dim light, she must have been able to see his left hand covered with bloody Kleenex, because she walked toward him and raised it over his head like a child in class who knew all the answers, though he knew he really didn’t. ‘How’s Lucinda?’ he asked.
‘Physically okay, I think. Otherwise? Who knows. The wound in her chest is superficial,’ Maggie said. ‘He must have been drawing the process out. Killing her slowly.’
‘Sadistic bastard,’ he said. He paused. ‘Kane’s dead.’
‘I know. I heard the shots and came out to help. Saw him go over the rail.’
McCabe looked straight into Maggie’s eyes. They were practically the same height. ‘He came at me with a scalpel,’ he said. After an awkward moment, he waved his bloodied hand in her direction as a kind of proof that he hadn’t done anything wrong.
She touched her hand to his cheek. ‘You don’t have to convince me, McCabe.’
Then she took the Maglite, and together they went back into the room where Lucinda Cassidy lay on a steel autopsy table, still naked, her hands and feet still bound to the table, her eyes wild with fear. A thin red line of blood ran neatly from just below her neck to just above her navel. It was already drying.
Maggie bent down and retrieved the hospital gown from the floor. She covered Lucinda’s body, tying the strings around her neck. ‘Lucinda,’ she said, pointing the light at her own face, ‘you’re safe. I’m a police officer. Detective Margaret Savage.’ She shifted the beam to McCabe. ‘This is Detective Sergeant Michael McCabe. Nobody’s going to hurt you.’ She handed the light back to McCabe. ‘You’ll be all right now. You’re safe,’ she said, speaking gently like a mother trying to comfort an injured child. Lucinda’s frantic eyes darted rapidly from one to the other of them.
‘I’m going to take the tape from your mouth now,’ Maggie continued, ‘and unbind your hands and feet.’
McCabe watched, sure Lucinda would start screaming and thrashing, as Maggie pulled away the duct tape and untied the restraints. She didn’t. She let Maggie take her in her arms and help her to a sitting position. Then Maggie hugged and stroked her and told her over and over that she was safe. That she would be okay. That the nightmare was over. To McCabe’s surprise, Cassidy simply closed her eyes, laid her head on Maggie’s shoulder, and quietly wept. She babbled a little, the babbles mostly incoherent, except for the word ‘Mommy,’ repeated a number of times. For Lucinda it was going to be a long road back. McCabe put the light on the autopsy table next to Maggie and went downstairs.
In nearly complete darkness, he felt his way to the back utility room and flipped on the main power switch. The lights came back on. The Goldberg Variations picked up where they’d left off. In the hallway, Lucas Kane lay in the middle of the floor. Dead once. Now, dead again. This time for good. It was over.
McCabe could hear sirens. He walked to the front door and opened it in time to see three Maine State Police cars and a MedCU unit scream into the compound. Maggie must have called Ellsworth after all. Good for Maggie.
Troopers poured out of the cars dressed for combat. McCabe walked out of the house, hands in the air, holding his shield high over his head for the troopers to see.
‘McCabe?’ one of them called. A sergeant. Apparently in charge.
‘Yes,’ McCabe shouted and went to join them by the cars.
‘Sergeant Bill Dickinson, Ellsworth Barracks.’ He held out his hand.
McCabe shook it. ‘Katie Dubois’s murderer is inside the big house. He’s dead. My partner’s upstairs caring for a female hostage.’
‘The Cassidy woman?’
‘Yeah.’ He turned to the EMTs, one of whom was bandaging his cut hand. ‘The woman upstairs – she’ll need to be sedated. Otherwise she seems okay. Third floor.’ They nodded and both of them headed for the building.
‘What else?’ asked Dickinson.
‘Some people are holed up in a large basement area under the cottage over there. A doctor. Some nurses. An old man with a serious heart condition. He’ll need medical attention, too.’
‘Armed? Fortified?’
‘No. They’re using it as an operating room. Just let them know you’re here. My guess is they’ll come out without a peep.’
Two heavily armed troopers rushed the building and tried the door. Unlocked. They slipped inside.
McCabe watched them go, then turned and started walking back toward the house.
‘Where are you going?’ Sergeant Dickinson’s voice boomed out behind him.
McCabe looked back. ‘Me? I’m getting my partner and going home.’