Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Knight Rider franchise. Michael Knight, K.I.T.T., Devon Miles, F.L.A.G., etc. belong to Glen A. Larson. Only Carlee, the Mutilator, and the plot of this story are mine.
Carlee cautiously peered around the door frame, service revolver in hand. Her partner's fate was unknown. The serial killer they'd been tracking for nearly ten months, the Millionaire Mutilator, had been lying in wait when they responded to the anonymous tip about the abandoned estate on the bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The caller had claimed to hear screaming from inside, and had said that they knew the estate's owner, a local millionaire by the name of Riley Simms, had gone to the home earlier in the day to prepare it for an open house.
She realized now that it had been a trap. The estate would take much more than one night to be prepared for an open house. The grounds were over grown with weeds, the windows were boarded over, and the interior was devoid of furniture.
In the past two months, the cat and mouse game the Mutilator and Carlee had been playing had gotten increasingly personal, for both of them. Carlee was determined to catch the man and see him locked up for the rest of his miserable life. The Mutilator had decided that the fact that Carlee wasn't a millionaire could be overlooked, this once.
He had his sights on her now. She was his next intended victim, and this was the trap he planned to catch her in.
She'd be damned if she was going to let him get the drop on her, though!
The house was dark and quiet. Carlee knew it was a large house. Five or six bedrooms, at least. She had come in through the front door, which was a large, heavy fixture made of solid wood. It had bounced off the entry wall with a resounding thud when she had shouldered it open, moments ago. She and her partner had timed their entries so that they both went in at the same time, and just seconds after she'd entered, she'd heard two shots. The first from an unidentifiable gun, the second unmistakably her partner's service pistol. Her partner's shot sounded like it had gone wide, though. Then she'd heard the sound of something large hitting the floor. Now silence reigned.
Carlee crouched down and moved quickly into the next room, a formal living room from the looks of it. There were two doors leading out into other areas of the house. Carlee chose the one that lead closer to the back of the house, it probably lead into the kitchen. She peered through the door, aware the whole time of the door behind her that she hadn't inspected yet, and the potential threat that could come at her from there.
After a quick glance through the second door, Carlee turned back to the one she intended to go through. Suddenly, she was sent reeling. Stars swam in her vision from the full force back hand she'd received. Her revolver went flying into the darkness, clattering against the far wall. That instant of confusion was all it took for him to get behind her and grab her, pinning her arms to her sides.
She lifted one booted foot and brought it down hard on the killer's foot. He grunted in pain, but his grip didn't loosen.
"Hi, sweety!" he hissed in her ear. "Oh, I've been so looking forward to meeting you!"
Saving her breath for the fight, Carlee managed to wiggle one of her hands behind her and grab a handful of the front of his pants. She squeezed with all her strength.
A high pitched scream echoed through the house. Carlee squeezed harder. With the increase in pain came a decrease in his grip on her and she twisted away, running for the front of the house.
The killer pulled his gun from his waistband, and fired two shots wildly at her. They both missed by several feet, but the muzzle flash nearly blinded her, causing her to lose her night vision.
In the confusion, Carlee had gotten disoriented and was actually running to the back of the house. She reached the back door, to find her partner lying dead on the threshold. His pistol was still in his hand, so she grabbed it, then whirled to face the madman chasing her.
"Drop it!" Carlee commanded, her pistol aimed steadily at the man's heart. She slowly backed out the door, putting distance between her and the man who was intent on taking her life.
Sirens blared in the distance, drawing closer with each passing second.
The Mutilator stopped, and bent down to place his gun on the floor. When he straightened back up, he lunged for Carlee. He covered the distance between them so fast, she didn't get a chance to pull the trigger. She was pushed backward by the impact and staggered back into the deck railing. Her breath left her in a rush and she nearly lost her grip on her weapon. The madman had her pinned to the railing with his body. One of his hands went to her throat, the other scrabbled to get her pistol from her.
Carlee brought her knee up into his already sensitive crouch and he doubled over. Then he was lifting her up, intending to throw her over the railing, into the sea below.
Having no choice, she let go of her weapon and grabbed hold of his hair. Pulling his head back, she brought her own forehead into sudden, hard contact with his. He howled in pain and dropped Carlee back onto the deck.
Carlee swung around with all her strength and kicked him in the back. He toppled to the deck and came up holding the gun Carlee had dropped.
A spotlight from above lit up the scene, making Carlee blink in the sudden light. Over the thudding of her heart, Carlee could almost make out the sound of a helicopter.
"Drop the gun!" a uniformed officer, who had just run through the open back door, commanded. His own weapon was trained on the Mutilator.
The Mutilator turned off the safety and pulled the trigger.
The uniformed officer returned the favor for Carlee. The Mutilator took the bullet high in the chest, fell against the railing, and then over it.
Carlee looked down at herself in shock. Blood was blossoming from her own chest. She collapsed to the deck, darkness embracing her.