Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files #8) - Jim Butcher Page 0,46
an earlier page of her notebook and said, I already did. Something called Hammerhands.
Oldie but a goodie, I said. Ruffians push this farmer out onto train tracks and the train cuts his hands off at the wrist. They leave him for dead. But he survives, insane, straps sledgehammer heads to the stumps, and hunts them down one at a time.
And Clark Pell was the victim beaten here earlier today, Murphy said. Badly beaten with some kind of blunt instrument.
Maybe its a coincidence, I said.
She frowned. Can someone do that? Bring movie monsters to life?
Sorta looks that way, I said.
How do we stop them? she asked.
I dragged the con schedule out of my pocket and paged through it. The real question is, how do we stop them before tomorrow night?
Whats tomorrow night?
Movie fest, I said, and held up the film schedule. Haifa dozen films showing here. Another half a dozen in Pells theater. And most of their monsters arent nearly as friendly as Hammerhand and the Reaper.
God almighty, Murphy breathed. Any chance this could be regular folks playing dress up?
I doubt it. But its possible.
She nodded. Well let Greene cover that angle, then. Consider yourself to be on the clock for the department, Harry. Whats our next move?
We talk to the surviving victims, I said. And I try to figure out how many ways there are for someone to do something this crazy.
She nodded, and then frowned at me. First, you get some sleep. You look like hell.
Thanks, I said. Feel like Im about to fall down.
She nodded. Ill see if I can talk to Pell, if hes even awake. I doubt well get to the others before morning. Assuming they survive.
Right, I said. Ill need to get back here and do some snooping tomorrow. With any luck, we can track down our bad guy before something else jumps off the movie screen.
Murphy nodded and rose. She offered me a hand. I took it and she hauled me up. Murphy is a lot stronger than she looks.
Give me a ride home? I asked.
She already had her keys in her hand. Do I look like your driver?
Thanks, Murph.
We headed for the door. Usually I have to shorten my steps to match Murphys, but tonight I was so tired that she was waiting for me.
Harry, she said. What if we cant find out who is doing it in time?
Well find them, I said.
But if we dont?
Then we fight monsters.
Murphy took a deep breath and nodded as we stepped out into the summer night. Damn right we do.
* * *
Chapter Fourteen
» ^ «
Murphy drove me home and parked in the gravel lot next to the century-old converted boardinghouse. She killed the engine in the car, and it made those clicking noises they do. We sat there with the windows rolled down for a second. A cool breeze coming off the lake whispered through the car, soothing after the unrelenting heat of the day.
Murphy checked her rearview mirror and then scanned the street. Who were you watching for?
What? I said. What do you mean?
You rubbernecked so much on the way here, Im surprised your shoulders arent bruising your ears.
I grimaced. Oh, that. Someone was tailing me tonight.
And youre just now telling me about it?
I shrugged. No sense worrying you over nothing. Whoever he is, hes not there now. I described the shadowy man and his car.
Same one who ran you off the road, do you think? she asked.
Something tells me no, I said. He wasnt making any effort to avoid being spotted. For all I know, he could just be a PI gathering information on me for the lawsuit.
Christ, Murphy said. Isnt that thing over with?
I grimaced. For a talk show host, Larry Fowler can really hold a grudge. He keeps doing one thing after another.
Maybe you shouldnt have burned down his studio and shot up his car, then.
That wasnt my fault!
Thats for a court to decide, Murphy said in a pious tone. You got an attorney?
I helped a guy find his daughters lost dog five or six years ago. Hes an attorney. Hes giving me a hand with the legal process, enough so it hasnt actually bankrupted me. But it just keeps going and going.
Neither of us got out of the car.
I closed my eyes and listened to the summer night. Music played somewhere. I could hear the occasional racing engine.
Harry? Murph asked after a while. Are you all right?