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Clark grabbed at him, driving forward and stopping the blow. He pulled the attacker’s shoulders close, switched his hips, and tossed him over his shoulder to the ground.
He reached for the knife, but the attacker planted his foot on Clark’s chest and shoved him backward. He fell against the far wall and got quickly to his feet, hands up and chin tucked in a boxing stance.
The attacker chuckled. “You’re good, Clark. I never imagined you’d be this dangerous. I always thought you were more of a desk jockey.”
“Who are you?” Clark demanded. “What do you want with me? Did the cartel send you?”
The attacker laughed again, circling Clark, knife held ready in his right hand. “No, I’m not a demon from your past, Gordon. I’m a demon from your present.”
Clark knew then. His eyes widened. “You’re the Copycat.”
“I prefer to think of myself as the master’s greatest student, here to take the throne that is rightfully mine.”
He lunged at Clark, but Clark saw the blow coming and ducked it easily. He swept at the attacker’s foot, but the man danced away. Clark’s shoulders burned, and he felt moisture over the right side of his chest. His injury must be more serious than he thought.
“Really?” Clark said contemptuously. “That’s what you aspire to? To be the next Donkey Killer?”
“Everyone reaches for greatness in their own way,” the attacker said, launching another attack with the knife.
Clark ducked it again and this time buried his fist in the attacker’s solar plexus. The attacker doubled over, but when Clark tried to grab his wrist and free the knife, the attacker fell to the floor, dragging Clark with him. He flipped Clark over his shoulder, wresting his arm free. Clark crashed into his TV, knocking it over and shattering the screen. He jumped to his feet quickly, narrowly avoiding another swipe with the knife.
Clark’s chest heaved, and he felt more wetness on the top of his scalp from where he impacted the TV. He had to stop this guy soon. He was losing energy quickly, and he didn’t like how much he was bleeding from his shoulder.
He had to keep the guy talking and try to find an opportunity.
“So your greatness,” Clark said, “is to mimic another killer. Your name literally is the Copycat.”
“For now.” the attacker said. “I intend to finish what my master started.”
“Oh yeah?” Clark said, circling behind his couch to create some distance between him and the attacker. “What’s that?”
“I’m going to kill Faith Bold,” he said.
A chill ran through Clark. “Faith Bold? Why her? She’s not even on this case.”
“She wasn’t,” the attacker said, “but you brought her back.”
“I asked her to look at some paperwork,” Clark said. “I’m the one who’s been after you. I’m the one you want, not her.”
“I’ll get you too,” he said, “that’s why I’m here. But let’s face it, Clark. You’re small time. You’re not all that special. Killing you will just be another notch in my belt. But Faith. She’s special. Trammell knew it. He considered Faith to be his crown jewel. He was going to break the FBI’s rising star. He was going to take her body, take her will, and take her life. He came up short. I won’t.”
Clark laughed as he moved toward the coat closet. There was a bag of golf clubs in there. If he could get to one, he could knock the attacker out.
“Faith is going to mop the floor with you, asshole,” Clark said. “You’re nothing to her. She found your master, and she’ll find you.”
“She’s already found me,” the Copycat Killer said, “she just doesn’t know it.”
“So now, what, you kill me, then you kill her?”
“You, yes. I won’t kill her yet,” he said. “I’m going to break her first. I’m going to take her will. I’m going to take away her strength until she’s begging for death before I even touch her.”
“Trammell tried that, remember?” Clark said, inching closer to the closet.
“Trammell was sloppy,” the Copycat Killer said. “He was a visionary, but like most visionaries, he lacked a practical understanding of how to achieve his goals. I don’t suffer from that lack. I am careful. I am patient. I will take as much time as I need to execute the perfect assault on her mind and character. I nearly succeeded, in fact, until you stopped me. I had Faith on the ropes mentally, and you rescued her.” He shook the knife back and forth like he was waggling a finger. “That’s cheating.”
“Yeah?” Clark said. “Well, that’s the difference between you and me. See, there’s only one of you. There’s a whole damn lot of us.”
“One less after today,” the Copycat assured him.
