13CHAPTER SIX
Flack hopped down from the interior stairs and drew his sidearm, hearing a muffled scream from the back of the apartment. Poking his head around the corner, he spotted her, straddling the guy from the bar, tied to the bed. She had a nasty-looking knife in one hand and there was blood-a lot of it-all over the sheets. He could see what looked like directional drops and drag marks from the living room to the bedroom. She'd been at this awhile, and he cursed himself for not getting there sooner.
"Drop the knife," he suggested, in a commanding tone, coming around the corner to face her.
She started. When she turned to face him, Flack noticed, she didn't seem all that surprised, though. "Ah. You're a cop. You know, I was gonna pick you in the bar, but you already looked pretty damn miserable. I wanted somebody who was gonna last awhile."
Flack glanced at the man on the bed. He was breathing, his chest heaving in short bursts. He didn't look good. "We both know you're not gonna let me take you in," Flack said, returning his eyes to the knife in her left hand. "So should I shoot you now, or….?"
She slid the knife up to the man's throat. "Go for it," she urged. "You drop me, I'll slice him open like the guys at the fish market, and his blood'll literally be on your hands."
Flack grinned darkly. "Lady, I've already got blood on my hands." He pulled the hammer back. "I don't mind adding yours."
"You'll never know why I did it," she countered.
"Funny thing?" Flack returned, "I don't care."
Matt listened to the cop's heartbeat. It was completely calm, steady. He really doesn't care, Matt realized, and wondered what had happened to this guy. It was hard to think of much else, with the cold knife blade at his neck and the realization that his stomach wound was bleeding heavily. His body was starting to go numb. Please, God…just end this one way or the other…
"You're an odd one," Amanda said, returning her eyes to the man on the bed. "That's not normally how cops talk to the people holding someone hostage."
"Nobody has ever accused me of being normal," Flack returned. "Guessing that goes double for you?"
"How'd you find me?" Amanda asked, skirting the question.
"Lot of late nights and seedy bars," Flack shrugged. "Started up in the theatre district, picked the nastiest holes in the wall I could find. Lookin' for a girl who can blend in but keep a guy's attention. You fit that bill."
"I'm flattered."
"Shouldn't be," Flack said shortly, and he saw her flinch. He took a step into the room, his gun never straying far from center mass. "What's the matter? You that starved for attention that this is how you get it? Tie a guy up and cut on him all night until your alarm goes off at five in the morning? Got a day job? I'm bettin' it's a matinee show."
"You're adorable," Amanda said. "I'm not an actress. And you've got me all wrong, Mr. Detective."
Matt listened to the exchange. He's trying to piss her off. It wasn't a half bad tactic, except if it went too far, Matt was on the receiving end.
"Personally," the detective said, "I'm pretty sure you're just fucking crazy."
Amanda's heartbeat ticked and he felt her turn to look at the detective. "Fuck you," she spat. Matt felt her arm twinge. "I'm not cr-"
He felt Amanda move, heard the loud report of a police-issue pistol, and Matt cried out as her full weight landed on top of him.
Flack holstered his gun even as he was crossing the room, pulling the woman off the guy and letting her drop to the floor. It'd been a clean shot and she was now lying on the floor. He pulled his pocketknife from his pocket and cut the ropes tying the guy to the bed, then reached up and removed the tie knotted around his mouth. "Can you hear me?" Flack asked him.
"Barely," Matt whispered, trying to focus on the cop's voice.
"I'm gonna call an ambulan-" Flack was reaching for his phone when the man's hand shot up surprisingly quick.
"No. Don't. C-can't go to the hospital. Phone…kitchen. Claire. Call Claire." He wondered if this was the same speech he'd told Foggy the night of his ass-kicking at the hands of Fisk's ninja. He still didn't remember anything before waking up with a pissed off and scared Foggy in his living room.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Flack was incredulous. "You're gonna bleed out-"
"Not…if you…hurry," Matt breathed. "…Please."
This night just keeps gettin' weirder, Flack sighed, and went to go find the phone. It was the strangest phone call he'd ever had. The woman on the other end didn't even seem surprised or all that terribly concerned when he told her he was in the apartment of some blind guy that had almost been tortured to death. Flack hung up and then proceeded to try to staunch some of the bleeding from the man on the bed.
"You know, if I'm gonna be in bed with you, you could at least introduce yourself," Flack offered as he pressed harder on the wound.
Matt coughed. "M-Matt," he said after a moment, trying to get the pain and his breathing under control. "I-I ah…" he started. He tried raising a hand for the cop to shake, but couldn't get his arm much higher than his stomach.
"Thank me later if you don't bleed out first," Flack suggested.
He heard the front door open and quick footsteps coming into the apartment. "Matt?" a woman's voice called. Flack looked up to see a woman around his age carrying a small duffel. She paused at the doorway, taking in the scene.
Then she shook her head. "I don't even want to know. Slide over."
Flack knew he should've been calling in the body. But he could only watch as the woman he assumed was the Claire he'd called worked on Matt, trying to patch him up. "Don't suppose either of you want to tell me what the hell is going on here, or why I'm not calling for an ambulance?" he asked finally.
Claire glanced at Matt. "He okay?" she asked him, tossing her head at Flack.
Matt's voice was soft. "I think he's one of the good guys," he said, looking over in Flack's direction.
Flack opened his mouth to protest. But he saw Jess Angell's face in the window, smiling at him. So he didn't say a word.
A few nights later, Flack leaned against a dumpster in an alley near Clinton Church in Hell's Kitchen. The streetlights had just come on. Leaves were stirred up by the chilly fall wind, flitting down the sidewalk. Now and then, a car passed down the street but nobody paid him any mind. Apparently, strange men hanging out in alleys was passé in Hell's Kitchen.
He heard a thud on the fire escape, and he turned to see a man standing there, wearing black pants and a longsleeve black t-shirt. A half mask was tied over his nose and eyes, obscuring his features.
"You're recovering nicely," Flack deadpanned, pushing off the dumpster to face him. "So you're really him? The guy they're callin' the Devil of Hell's Kitchen?"
Matt nodded. "In the flesh. What's left of it," he grimaced, holding a hand to his side. "Claire'll kill me if I rip these stitches."
"You know, I'm not even gonna ask how you manage all of this, bein' blind," Flack told him.
"It's a long story anyway," Matt replied. "Speaking of long stories…anything on our girl Amanda?"
Flack nodded, then rolled his eyes, realizing Matt couldn't see the gesture. "Her, um, her real name is Lauren. Lauren Roberts. She is…was…an usher at one of the theatres on Broadway."
"She coulda been on the stage," Matt murmured. "What else do we know?"
"Not much. Everybody that knew her describes her as being 'totally normal'." Flack used air quotes and Matt could see them in his voice. "Pulled an address off her employee records. Apartment was interesting."
"Interesting how?" Matt placed a hand on the dumpster for support.
"We could sit down, you know," Flack offered.
Matt coughed out a laugh. "Trust me, you don't wanna know what's in this alley, and you definitely don't wanna sit in it."
Flack waited for more, didn't get it, and shrugged. "Fine, then. Our girl was well-read, bookshelves ran the gamut from medical textbooks to profiling to Acting For Dummies to Goosebumps."
"She did say she did a lot of studying," Matt sighed, his free hand drifting to his stomach. "Any ideas as to motive or how she picked m-the victims?"
Flack shook his head. "Not really. Didn't really have a type. As to the motive…can't find that either."
"She said it was fun," Matt told him. "That's probably all the motive there will ever be. She went down too easy. I think she wanted to get caught, just to see what it would be like."
"Yeah, well, sorry about not giving her the perfect ending," Flack shrugged. Matt nodded, and Flack pondered that. "Jesus, she was fucking crazy." He studied Matt for a moment. "What I can't figure out is how she managed to get the jump on you, of all people. Some of the after-action reports I've seen…guys I've booked and testified against in court…I mean, you're not exactly helpless."
Matt was silent. "Didn't think she was a threat. Thought I could handle her on my own," he admitted finally. He shook his head, grateful the detective couldn't see his expression. "Sorta always been my problem; thinking I can handle things without help."
The detective's heartbeat picked up, and Matt cocked his head to listen. "Sounds like I'm not the only one who has that problem," he said. "What about you?"
"What about me?" Flack scuffed the dirt with his sneaker. "And what do you mean 'sounds like'?"
Matt shrugged, sensing it would be better just to tell him the truth. "I, um, your heartbeat picked up a little there. And you're sweating. I hit a nerve."
"You can…how…" Flack shook his head in disbelief. "I…"
Matt smirked. "Yeah, I get that a lot." He gestured to him. "I just realized…I don't know your name."
"Flack. Don Flack," the blue-eyed detective introduced himself.
The name rang a bell. "Flack….you had the partner…the one that got shot a couple months ago," Matt said. Flack's heartbeat went into overdrive. "Sorry."
"It's fine." His heart pounded.
"No, it isn't," Matt countered. "That night, at my apartment. Were you trying….you were goading her. You wanted her to make a move. I think you wanted to shoot her."
"Awfully observant for a blind guy," Flack snarked at him.
Matt nodded. "I get that a lot, too," he said. "So…this whole thing some kind of vendetta? Stress relief?"
"You don't know shit," Flack countered.
"I can tell you're lying," Matt pointed out. He grimaced. "Ack, okay, I gotta sit down." He carefully picked his way over to a stoop and sat down, breathing heavily. After a moment, he spoke again. "I seriously doubt this is what your partner would've wanted."
"Funny, that's exactly what she said," Flack said. Matt frowned, confused, but Flack didn't say anything more. After a moment, Flack slid down to sit next to him. The two of them sat in silence.
"Revenge is a dark road," Matt said after a minute or two. "Hard one to come back from."
"Sound like you speak from experience."
"The guy I'm after," Matt explained, "he's done some bad things to people I care about. People my friends care about. I'm not gonna stop until he's behind bars."
"Kinda feel like I should be arresting your ass," Flack told Matt.
Matt grinned. "I'd like to see you try," he offered. Then he turned serious again. "Look, I'm not gonna pretend I know what it's been like for you. What I will say is you shouldn't be dealing with this on your own."
"You're one to talk," Flack pointed out.
Matt shrugged. "Yeah well, do as I say, not as I do," he said. Matt stood up slowly. "I gotta go." He paused, turned to look down at Flack. "You don't wanna get on the wrong side of me," he informed him. "Saving my life isn't gonna mean anything if I catch you on the wrong side of things."
"That a threat?" Flack asked him, standing to join him.
Matt shook his head, deadly serious. "A promise. You seem like a good guy. Stay that way." With those as his parting words, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen half-walked, half-limped into the darkness. Flack watched him leave, thinking.
"See?" Jess spoke up from across the alley. She pointed at Flack. "Told ya."
Flack snorted and shook his head. "Are you gonna be a pain in the ass in the afterlife too?" he asked her.
Jess grinned. "For as long as it takes."
Her partner sighed and shook his head. Then, he started walking for the street to see if he could find a cab. As he stood on the sidewalk, he pulled out his cell phone. "Monroe. Hey, it's Flack. Is…um…how's Danny doing?"
He held up a hand as a yellow cab came rolling up to the curb. "That's um…that's good. Are you guys…you up for company at all?"
Matt crouched on the roof of the apartment building, watching Flack slide into the cab, still on the phone. The cab pulled away, heading north. He nodded.
"Thanks."
