Humpty Dumpty: The killer wants us to put him back together again (Book 1 of the Nursery Rhyme Murders Series) by Carolyn McCray, Ben Hopkin
Authors: Carolyn McCray, Ben Hopkin
Tags: General Fiction
Ads: Link
Smirnoff, twisted off the cap and sucked the fluid down. Kerosene would probably taste less caustic.
Keeping away from the crime was one thing, but he couldn’t quite stop himself from at least taking a look. He glanced over his shoulder long enough to catch a flash of long blonde hair fanning out as the attacker dragged the girl through the one small pool of light cast by an overhead bulb on one of the buildings.
It was Livvie.
The thought punched a hole in his gut that threatened to take his breath away and never give it back. It was her sixteenth un-birthday. She would’ve been out tonight, celebrating with her friends.
This could have been her.
It wasn’t her. Of course it wasn’t her. But Joshua found his feet moving toward the conflict of their own volition. A stranger he could’ve passed by with little remorse. It would have been just one more tiny drop of shame to add to the sea that already churned within him. Passing by the rape of his baby would create an inner ocean that could never be contained.
Beginning to run, Joshua found the landscape around him tilting dangerously. He pulled back to a brisk walk, holding onto his equilibrium with an iron grip. Now was not the time to fall down from the drink. Had to keep it together for his daughter. Somebody’s daughter.
He caught sight of the girl, now on the ground with part of her shirt torn off. Her attacker was standing above her, a gun in one hand, the other wrestling with his belt.
The first moment of this confrontation was the most important. He could try to sneak in closer and attack from behind, or he could just surprise the guy by calling out to him. A rapist interrupted had two choices: cut and run, or face the added exposure and danger of dealing with the new threat. Most bolted.
“Hey!” Joshua yelled. The rapist stopped worrying about his belt and spun around, the gun now pointed square at Joshua. Perfect. This guy was an idiot with something to prove.
“This has nothing to do with you,” the attacker growled. He was young, Caucasian, with piercings all over his face. “Walk away now before you get hurt.”
“Go ahead. Shoot me.” Joshua edged forward, angling himself to try to get between the man and his prostrate victim. Problem was, it was difficult to be stealthy when you were drunk. His feet kept betraying him, catching on the pitted surface of the neglected asphalt.
“You’re crazy,” the young man barked, moving the gun to follow Joshua’s movements. The attacker paused, then looked closer. “And drunk.”
“Yes… and yes. Very observant.” Just a few more steps and Joshua would be able to leap in between the gun and the girl.
“Stop. I’ll shoot. I mean it.” A note of hysteria had crept into the thug’s voice.
“Look at me. Does it seem like I give a shit?” Joshua leapt just as he finished his sentence, trying to catch the man off guard.
It didn’t work.
His reflexes dulled by the alcohol, Joshua found that his leap was less of a jump and more of a stumble forward. The attacker had more than enough time to respond. The pistol in his hand punched into the side of Joshua’s head, catching him right where he’d been kicked earlier that night. Flashes of light exploded in his vision. But in spite of the pain, Joshua barreled forward, lashing out with his fist in as close to the right direction as he could manage in his current state.
He connected with the guy’s abdomen, and Joshua felt the whoosh of air that rushed out of the criminal’s lungs. The victory was short-lived, however, as the man used his other hand to lash out at Joshua’s side… the one with the cut from the knife injury. The pain was immediate and intense.
Joshua groaned and fell back, clutching at the man’s gun hand as he did so. The attacker pulled back, trying to free his weapon from Joshua’s grip, and as he did so, the pistol fired, the recoil whipping his arm back.
A cry came from the direction of the girl on the ground. She
Keeping away from the crime was one thing, but he couldn’t quite stop himself from at least taking a look. He glanced over his shoulder long enough to catch a flash of long blonde hair fanning out as the attacker dragged the girl through the one small pool of light cast by an overhead bulb on one of the buildings.
It was Livvie.
The thought punched a hole in his gut that threatened to take his breath away and never give it back. It was her sixteenth un-birthday. She would’ve been out tonight, celebrating with her friends.
This could have been her.
It wasn’t her. Of course it wasn’t her. But Joshua found his feet moving toward the conflict of their own volition. A stranger he could’ve passed by with little remorse. It would have been just one more tiny drop of shame to add to the sea that already churned within him. Passing by the rape of his baby would create an inner ocean that could never be contained.
Beginning to run, Joshua found the landscape around him tilting dangerously. He pulled back to a brisk walk, holding onto his equilibrium with an iron grip. Now was not the time to fall down from the drink. Had to keep it together for his daughter. Somebody’s daughter.
He caught sight of the girl, now on the ground with part of her shirt torn off. Her attacker was standing above her, a gun in one hand, the other wrestling with his belt.
The first moment of this confrontation was the most important. He could try to sneak in closer and attack from behind, or he could just surprise the guy by calling out to him. A rapist interrupted had two choices: cut and run, or face the added exposure and danger of dealing with the new threat. Most bolted.
“Hey!” Joshua yelled. The rapist stopped worrying about his belt and spun around, the gun now pointed square at Joshua. Perfect. This guy was an idiot with something to prove.
“This has nothing to do with you,” the attacker growled. He was young, Caucasian, with piercings all over his face. “Walk away now before you get hurt.”
“Go ahead. Shoot me.” Joshua edged forward, angling himself to try to get between the man and his prostrate victim. Problem was, it was difficult to be stealthy when you were drunk. His feet kept betraying him, catching on the pitted surface of the neglected asphalt.
“You’re crazy,” the young man barked, moving the gun to follow Joshua’s movements. The attacker paused, then looked closer. “And drunk.”
“Yes… and yes. Very observant.” Just a few more steps and Joshua would be able to leap in between the gun and the girl.
“Stop. I’ll shoot. I mean it.” A note of hysteria had crept into the thug’s voice.
“Look at me. Does it seem like I give a shit?” Joshua leapt just as he finished his sentence, trying to catch the man off guard.
It didn’t work.
His reflexes dulled by the alcohol, Joshua found that his leap was less of a jump and more of a stumble forward. The attacker had more than enough time to respond. The pistol in his hand punched into the side of Joshua’s head, catching him right where he’d been kicked earlier that night. Flashes of light exploded in his vision. But in spite of the pain, Joshua barreled forward, lashing out with his fist in as close to the right direction as he could manage in his current state.
He connected with the guy’s abdomen, and Joshua felt the whoosh of air that rushed out of the criminal’s lungs. The victory was short-lived, however, as the man used his other hand to lash out at Joshua’s side… the one with the cut from the knife injury. The pain was immediate and intense.
Joshua groaned and fell back, clutching at the man’s gun hand as he did so. The attacker pulled back, trying to free his weapon from Joshua’s grip, and as he did so, the pistol fired, the recoil whipping his arm back.
A cry came from the direction of the girl on the ground. She
Similar Books
