Secrets to the Grave

73

He hadn’t counted on the knife.

Zahn came at him like a wild animal, and Vince flashed on what Anne had said: You know, people don’t look the same when they turn on you.

“Vince!” Mendez shouted, drawing his weapon.

Zahn’s arm came down in an arc, the light catching on the blade of the knife. By reflex, Vince caught hold of the man’s wrist and stepped to the side to get out of the path of the weapon.

“Zahn! Drop the knife!” Mendez shouted. “Drop the fucking knife!”

But Zahn didn’t hear him. What was reasonable and civilized in him was gone, overridden by fear and demons. He struggled to pull free of Vince’s grasp, the two of them crashing into the bed frame, falling against a nightstand.

Madness fueled and intensified Zahn’s strength. Vince had half a foot and a good fifty pounds on him, and all he could do was stumble backward on his heels as Zahn continued his attack.

“DROP THE FUCKING KNIFE!” Mendez shouted again.

From the corner of his eye Vince could see him trying to maneuver around them to get a clean shot.

Zahn twisted and yanked free of the hold Vince had on his wrist, stumbling backward and banging hard into the wall. Vince took the chance to dive across the box spring to the other side of the bed.

“DROP THE DAMN KNIFE!!”

“TONY! DON’T SHOOT!” Vince shouted.

Zahn stood there, looking stunned, looking like he didn’t know where he was or who he was or who they were. He looked at the knife in his hand, his arm still cocked at the elbow, ready.

“Zander!” Vince said. “Zander! It’s me, Vince. Put the knife down.”

Zahn stared at the knife in his hand, fascinated. He stared at the knife and at his arm as if it weren’t attached to his body.

Mendez had taken the stance to fire, his arms straight out in front of him, his finger on the trigger of the weapon. Everything about him was pulled as taut as a string on a bow. His dark eyes were as bright and hard looking as polished onyx.

“Zander, put the knife down,” Vince said, lowering the tone and volume of his voice. “You need to put the knife down. Isn’t your arm getting tired?”

Zahn looked uncertain. His fingers flexed on the handle of the knife.

“Aren’t you tired, Zander?” Vince asked. “You’ve had a rough day.”

He let the quiet hang, imagining his words trying to find a way into Zahn’s brain and, once there, struggling to be routed and processed.

“I’m very tired, Vince,” he said in his small, soft voice. The look in his wide eyes was still glassy and far away. He seemed to be staring into another dimension. “I’m very tired. Terribly tired.”

“So let’s put the knife down,” Vince said, moving slowly down to the foot of the bed. “You don’t need that thing. Put it down and we’ll sit down and you can rest.”

“I’m so very sorry,” Zahn said.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay. No harm, no foul, right?”

He took a slow step toward Zahn, keeping one arm stretched out in front of him, just in case.

“No,” Zander murmured.

“Did you come here to see Marissa?” Vince asked quietly.

“Marissa. Marissa is gone.”

“You miss her, don’t you,” Vince said. “She was a very special person, wasn’t she? She accepted you for exactly who you are, didn’t she?”

“Marissa,” Zahn murmured. “Marissa is gone.”

“I’m sorry for that, Zander. She was special to you and now she’s gone. That’s a scary place to be, isn’t it? She left you alone, and you don’t feel safe. But you’re safe with us. So why don’t you put the knife down?”

“I’m sorry,” Zahn said, his hand flexing on the handle of the knife. “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, Zander?”

“I’m so sorry. Very sorry. Terribly sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, Zander?” Vince asked. “Did you do something wrong? Did you do a bad thing, Zander?”

He began to rock slightly with his upper body, a sign of agitation.

“Very bad,” he said. “I’m very bad. Terribly bad. Bad, bad.”

“I don’t think so, Zander,” Vince said. “Why don’t you put the knife down and we’ll talk about it. Your arm must be very tired by now.”

Zahn rocked a little harder.

“So tired,” he said. “Very tired. I’m sorry.”

“Did you hurt Marissa, Zander? Is that why you’re sorry? Did you hurt Marissa?”

“Marissa, Marissa. Mommy, mommy. I’m so sorry.”

“Did you hurt Marissa, Zander?”

“Very tired. Terribly tired. Have to go now.”

With that Zander Zahn brought the knife down and plunged it into his own stomach.