Chapter 5 - Justice on the Roof
The roof of Pier 14 was slick with freezing rain, suspended eighty feet above the dark, boiling waters of Boston Harbor.
Victor Vance sprinted toward a waiting twin-engine bell helicopter idling on the far landing pad, its rotor blades whipping the thick fog into violent, swirling eddies.
Suddenly, a two-hundred-pound black beast exploded out of the roof access door.
Rook didn't slow down. Guided by the unmistakable scent of the man who had destroyed his life six years ago, the blind dog leaped across a ten-foot gap between two air conditioning ducts, hitting Victor Vance full-force in the upper chest.
CRASH!
Victor let out a strangled scream as he was slammed backward onto the slick gravel roof, his gun flying out of his hand and spinning over the edge into the dark ocean below.
"Get off me! Get off me, you damn beast!" Victor shrieked, striking Rook's ribs with his heavy tactical case.
Rook didn't bite Victor's throat. He did what he was trained to do as a military working dog: he clamped his massive jaws around Victor's right wrist—the wrist holding the secondary detonation remote—pinning the killer to the ice-covered ground with unyielding, mechanical force.
The roof door slammed open.
Dominic Vale stepped out into the freezing wind, his black suit soaked with rain, his suppressed pistol held firmly in his right hand.
Mara rushed out right behind him, her hands flying to her mouth as she saw Rook holding the struggle down on the landing pad.
Victor Vance lay trapped beneath the blind dog, his face pale with agonizing pain, looking up at Dominic with terrified, desperate eyes.
"Dominic... wait!" Victor begged, his voice high and shrill against the roar of the helicopter blades. "It was Lucchesi! He paid me five million! I was just taking a contract! I didn't know your wife was in the car!"
Dominic walked slowly across the roof. His steps were unhurried, measured, and absolute.
He stood over Victor Vance.
The cold wind whipped Dominic’s silver-touched hair across his forehead. He raised his pistol, aiming the black barrel directly between Victor Vance’s eyes.
"Dominic," Mara called out softly, stepping onto the wet gravel behind him.
Dominic didn't lower the gun. "He took Elena from me, Mara. He took Rook's eyes. He spent six years sleeping peacefully while I lived in a graveyard."
"Look at Rook, Dominic," Mara whispered, her voice filled with a quiet, profound grace that cut through the roaring wind.
Dominic glanced down.
Rook wasn't tearing Victor apart. He was simply holding the killer fast, his cloudy, blind eyes looking toward Dominic, waiting for his master's command.
"If you execute him in cold blood right now," Mara said, stepping closer, resting her warm hand against Dominic’s back, feeling the intense tension vibrating through his spine, "you make Elena's memory about his evil instead of her love. Let the law take him. Let him rot in a federal cage for the rest of his life knowing a blind dog caught him."
Victor Vance swallowed hard, weeping in terror beneath the dog. "Please... Dominic... please..."
Dominic stood motionless for ten agonizing seconds, the barrel of his gun hovering an inch from Victor’s forehead.
Slowly, the lethal, dark rage in Dominic’s eyes began to recede, replaced by a deep, quiet peace that he hadn't felt in six long years.
Dominic lowered his weapon.
"Caleb," Dominic spoke into his earpiece. "Call the FBI regional director. Tell him I have Victor Vance on the roof of Pier 14 with the remote detonators for six cold-case homicides."
He looked down at his dog.
"Release, Rook," Dominic commanded softly.
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Rook immediately opened his jaws, stepping back and standing proudly beside Dominic’s leg, his tail giving a single, dignified wag against the rain.
Victor Vance slumped onto the wet gravel, sobbing in absolute defeat as the sirens of thirty state police cruisers began to wail in the distance, echoing across the dark waters of Boston Harbor.
