Sixty-Six
Less than a minute had passed from the time the paramedics had rushed into the ER. Unless I was mistaken, they hadn’t left the building. If Ryan was already outside the building, it didn’t make sense that he would remain nearby, knowing that we would be looking for him. Still, something told me not to ignore what I’d seen.
As I drew the LDA from my shoulder harness, I realized that I was pulling a recently fired weapon. It felt different in my hands as I gripped it, as if it were still warm from being discharged, although that was not the case. I had no desire to fire it again, but knew that I wouldn’t hesitate to use it on Ryan. In quadrants of my mind, I held pictures of his victims, John Doe, Kevin Lee, and the real Dr. John Maiguay. All three were heinous and violent atrocities. Doe had been abducted and maliciously tortured. Lee had been murdered and used as a study for Ryan’s insane surgical procedure. John Maiguay had befriended Ryan, and lost his life as a result.
I was outside the ambulance when I heard a muffled voice coming from within. It was not anything I expected to hear. Once again, the voice was muffled, but what I thought I heard was, “Do you take Jesus Christ as your Lord and savior?” It struck me as so bewildering, but at the same moment I understood. I heard it again, “Do you take Jesus Christ as your Lord and savior?” The possibility was so extremely remote and yet I was one hundred percent sure. I opened the ambulance door.
Terrance Ryan was on the floor, pressed into the corner of the ambulance bay. He was dressed in short sleeve hospital scrubs. Damien Zugg was still in his hospital gown. Without his cap, I could clearly see the horseshoe shaped scar on his head. He had Ryan pinned in place with his foot against Ryan’s throat. He was a large man and had little trouble keeping Ryan underfoot. The IV start was still in Ryan’s arm. Zugg was holding a syringe. The syringe’s needle was already inserted into Ryan’s IV line.
“Damien, what the hell are you doing?”
Zugg looked at me, but didn’t see me, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was off. All the medications had taken their toll on him, the painkillers as well as the scorpion venom. And there was the cancer, the glioma tumors growing within his brain, eating away at him, changing him irreversibly.
“I offer him salvation,” Zugg said.
“I’ve no interest in salvation,” Ryan said. His voice was still adenoid. I could still hear his wind resonating where it didn’t belong, producing an unnerving wheeze, but this was no longer the voice of a child. It was the voice of furious contempt, the voice of an intelligent man who hated the world and every perfect soul that dwelled upon it. “I want everyone to suffer.”
“Damien, you and I both know this is not the way we serve justice. Let me take him in.”
Zugg was still looking and not seeing me. “His hatred is his only true deformity.”
“We both know that, Damien, and we both know this is not the way law enforcement officers administer justice. Don’t do this—you’ve served so many years—don’t let it end this way.”
“Do it! Do it!” Ryan wheezed. “We’ll burn together.”
Zugg looked down at him, “Walk toward the light. The good Lord will overlook your contempt.”
I didn’t know what was in the syringe that Zugg had prepared. I didn’t know whether Ryan’s death would be instantaneous, or if Zugg had planned to administer death as an agonizingly slow retribution to this creature that was foul in appearance and foul of heart. I did know one thing for certain—Damien Zugg was going to squeeze that plunger and end the creature’s life. The LDA was still in my hands, but pointed at the ground. There was something I was supposed to be saying; something about dropping the syringe or I’ll fire. But Zugg was going to squeeze the plunger with or without a bullet in him.
May God forgive me.
I holstered the LDA, made the sign of the cross, and stepped from the back of the ambulance.
It wasn’t until the doors were closed that I once again heard Zugg’s muffled voice.
“And you shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever and ever. Lord hear our prayer.”
Sixty-Seven
Terrance Ryan, the man who had lived his life anonymously, planning one day to walk the streets of New York City normal in appearance, but mentally insane, was found dead in the back of a NYCEMS ambulance. Cause of death would be determined to be myocardial infarction.
My best guess was that Zugg had administered small consecutive doses of potassium chloride through Ryan’s IV. An elevated potassium level will stop the human heart. The problem is that if done in one quick dose, elevated electrolyte levels are detectable during autopsy. By administering small doses once every ten seconds or so, Zugg was able to bring on cardiac standstill and allow the body time to metabolize the poison, making it undetectable in postmortem testing. By the time Ryan’s body was autopsied, all electrolyte levels were once again within normal range. Zugg was not reported missing from his room, and the lethal syringe was never recovered.
Only God, Zugg, and I, knew the way it actually went down, and it is something I would have to wrestle with all the remaining days of my life. One day we will all have to answer for our time on earth. Zugg would likely stand before his maker many years before me—but not today. I prayed that the book of Damien Zugg’s life on earth still had many chapters unwritten.
The sun was coming up over New York City as Lido and I walked back to my apartment, arm in arm. The sky was clear, and the morning air was refreshing. It gave us just enough strength to stagger the path home.
My cell phone rang just as we were mere yards from my doorstep. I didn’t recognize the number. Exhausted as I was, my first thought was to ignore it, but once again, something, call it instinct, told me answer. The voice on the other end of the line belonged to Dr. Bock, the physician that had given me my departmental physical exam. He was calling to give the results of my lab work.
The breath caught in my lungs.
Lido undoubtedly saw the look on my face. “What’s the matter?” I held him at bay until Bock was completely finished.
I mentioned to you before that I pray each night for my loved ones and friends. I pray for the memory of my father, and for Ma and Ricky, and Ambler of course. Gus would always be in my prayers, and I prayed for those like Sonellio and Zugg, the ones that needed a little extra help.
Tonight I would add one more.
I hope that you enjoyed The Brain Vault. Now is the best time for you to review the book, so please click on the hyperlink and post a review while your opinion is still fresh: http://smarturl.it/ypj8qm
For more information on Stephanie Chalice and Chloe Mather thrillers, and my other books, please visit my website: lawrencekelter.com
Write to me at any time and sign up for my forthcoming newsletter: larrykelter@aol.com
In the Stephanie Chalice Thriller Series
Full-Length Novels
Don’t Close Your Eyes
Ransom Beach
The Brain Vault
Our Honored Dead
Baby Girl Doe
Compromised (Summer 2015)
Stephanie Chalice Novellas
First Kill: Prequel #1
Second Chance: Prequel #2
Third Victim: Prequel #3
In the Chloe Mather Thriller Series
Secrets of the Kill
Rules of the Kill
Legends of the Kill
Carnage of the Kill (Fall 2015)
Other Full-length Works of Fiction
Counterblow
Kiss of the Devil’s Breath
Palindrome
Saving Cervantes
Season of Faith
About The Author
I never expected to be a writer. In fact, I was voted the student least likely to visit a library. (Don’t believe it? Feel free to check my high school yearbook.) Well, times change, I suppose, and I have now authored several novels, including the internationally best-selling Stephanie Chalice and Chloe Mather thriller series.
Early in my writing career, I received support from none other than best-selling novelist, Nelson DeMille, who reviewed my work and actually put pencil to paper to assist in the editing of my first book. DeMille has been a true inspiration to me and has also given me some tough love. Way before he ever said, “Lawrence Kelter is an exciting new novelist, who reminds me of an early Robert Ludlum,” he told me, “Kid, your work needs editing, but that’s a hell of a lot better than not having talent. Keep it up!”
I’ve lived in the Metro New York area most of my life and rely primarily on locales in Manhattan and Long Island for story settings. I do my best to make each novel quickly paced and crammed full of twists, turns, and laughs.
Enjoy!
LK
Table of Contents
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty
Fifty-One
Fifty-Two
Fifty-Three
Fifty-Four
Fifty-Five
Fifty-Six
Fifty-Seven
Fifty-Eight
Fifty-Nine
Sixty
Sixty-One
Sixty-Two
Sixty-Three
Sixty-Four
Sixty-Five
Sixty-Six
Sixty-Seven
In the Stephanie Chalice Thriller Series
About The Author