A shiver ran through Gabriel’s body. Now he knew why he had been shaken when he first saw Tyrel’s photo. He had been staring at the eyes of a demon in human skin.
Chapter 32
April 11, 2019. 12:34 P.M.
No matter how many times Gabriel tried, he couldn’t wrap his head around the gruesome fact—Tyrel was not only strong enough to beat his victims to their deaths with his bare hands, but also twisted and disturbed enough to eat them. He was a wild rabid animal, a predator of humans. While processing this bloodcurdling tangent, the solution to what had previously seemed like a complex problem revealed itself. Gabriel now knew how Tyrel smuggled his victims’ hearts back into the country.
In his stomach.
Considering the reek of alcohol on Shane’s breath, he was asked to leave his car and ride with them in the Camaro. He was more comfortable with the team’s K9 unit than the people in it. He cupped Beast’s face between his hands and whispered to it.
After Deputy Laura left the group, Gabriel asked Shane if he had any of Tyrel’s personal effects, other than the Pandora’s box. Shane took them to his apartment and got a couple of items of clothing that belonged to his ex. He said he had mistakenly packed them in a hurry the day he had broken up with Tyrel. The clothes were great sources to extract DNA, unlike the hand wraps in the gym that had been out in the open for too long and exposed to the elements.
With Tyrel’s undergarments in a ziplock bag, they visited a private lab Sheriff McCune had recommended. It was small but professional. Gabriel informed the technician that they needed the job done ASAP. She agreed to move it up the line and have the preliminary result before nightfall. They could also collect the full report in seventy-two hours, provided they paid extra. Upfront.
Neither Gabriel nor Bill had that kind of dough. They both turned to Emma, who grunted and pulled her wallet out. From his phone, Gabriel forwarded Gerald’s DNA profile that Ethan had received from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, to the technician’s email, and asked her to call him only if they matched.
Back in the car, Gabriel questioned Shane about the colorful skulls he’d mentioned at the bar. He said he’d stolen them from Tyrel’s cellar, and then he directed them to a house in the upscale part of town.
Apparently his place had been broken into and ransacked two years ago. He suspected it was Tyrel searching for his souvenirs. But Shane had hidden them in his mother’s house, not his apartment, because they gave him the chills.
Once they recovered the skulls, they drove to Tyrel’s ranch. It was on the other side of the highway. The town disappeared minutes after crossing under the overpass, and they were on lonely backroads. A right turn led them onto a bumpy drive deluged in withered undergrowth. Massive trees bordered the roadsides, blocking out the afternoon sun. The entrance at the end of the road hung open because one of its wooden doors had skewed in the hinges.
The ranch was a broad expanse of grazing land, the center of which had three man-made structures—a rooftop water tank to the far right, a shack to the left, and a two-story building in between. Its rolled-up shutters combined with the many windows on its front, and gave the impression of a six-eyed gigantic old demon that was bored. They parked in front of it, stepped out, and walked into the yawning maw.
It turned out that the building was only single-story, albeit with a tall ceiling and spacious hall. A long series of troughs parted the middle vertically in two halves.
They began walking, starting at the left. Besides dried dung, disintegrated hay, and scattered cattle feed, they found nothing.
“How many animals does he own?” Gabriel said.
“Maybe thirty?” Shane replied. “Don’t remember the exact figure.”
“He must have hired one of those animal transporting trucks to take them with him,” Gabriel said, more to himself than to Shane.
“I don’t know. A college kid used to work here part-time. I will ask him to give you a call.”
“You do that.”
When they took their last turn, Gabriel came across a large aquarium near the wall. It was cracked, and a chunk of glass was missing from its bottom right corner. A mound of small round objects had spilled from within.
“What’s this?” he said.
“Snail shells. Tyrel has a turtle named Raphael. Cute little guy, but a picky eater.”
As they exited the building and headed to the shack, Shane disengaged from the group.
“That’s where he tortured them.” He pointed at its door, his eyes welling up. “In the cellar. I’m never going in there.”
“It’s all right,” Gabriel said. “You go stay in the car.”
Shane had been nothing but cooperative. If the mere sight of that place brought back the horror he had been trying to drown in booze, making him quake in his shoes, then why traumatize him by dragging him down there? He might clam up and call a lawyer. Or worse, call that hulking Sheriff.
The trio continued without him and went in.
It was a toolshed. A myriad of farming equipment hung on the walls around them. Because they knew who had once owned those sharp metal tools, they appeared wicked. Even the innocent brownish-red rust staining their tips made Gabriel queasy, so he looked down at a rectangle outline on the floor.
The dust-covered cellar door was secured with a mammoth lock. But it’d be ludicrous to complain about it, given where they stood.
Bill took a pickaxe from the board and went to work. Most of the blows missed the lock, a few almost by a foot, earning him some vulgar jokes from Emma that questioned Bill’s sexual competency.
Gabriel left them to it, stepped out, and scanned the environment. No tall buildings or hills nearby. A small fence circled the farmstead, and the intimidating forest around threatened to engulf the flimsy mesh. The only place where there was no vegetation was the entrance and the shady road beyond.
The pounding inside the shack grew more desperate and forceful, Emma’s jokes and chuckling more contrived, until it all ended with a feeble clank.
By the time Gabriel went back in, Bill was heaving, and pit-stain crescents stretched down to his hips.
Gabriel lifted the door and descended the stairs. Except for a thick smell of dampness and mold, there was nothing down there—not the stove, the bags of coal, or the shackles Shane had described. Neither were there heaps of hair, teeth, or nails, along with other inedible parts, like Gabriel had imagined. Yet he was unnerved. People had been tortured and killed in this claustrophobic room.
Shane said he had witnessed a live man chained to the wall, with his leg missing, hadn’t he? Meaning Tyrel cooked in front of his victims, from whom he’d sliced their flesh, and ate it as they wailed in agony.
Gabriel shuddered. He couldn’t climb the steps any faster.
* * *
“We have the skulls, but what happened to the… you know… the rest?” Gabriel said to Shane. “He couldn’t have eaten them all?”
They were all sitting in the car, the AC cranked up to its maximum, but Gabriel still found it hard to breathe.
“I don’t know. Tyrel is mentally sick.” Shane put his head down, too tired to cry. “Once, he compared eating people with eating pork and chicken. I think he ate them all.”
Gabriel didn’t think that. If Noah’s words were true—and they had been, to date—then Tyrel had killed thirty people up to now from the year he’d killed Ricky, his first victim. With some rough, gut-wrenching math, Gabriel calculated that Tyrel must have procured a mountain of human meat. He couldn’t have consumed them all, not without skipping meals at home, which Shane assured was never the case. So Tyrel must have been selective of what he ate, and buried the remains somewhere, preferably in a place where he would be away from prying eyes, not giving anyone a chance to see him dig holes once every nine months. After they parked at an abandoned piece of land surrounded by wilderness, Gabriel’s mind quickly arrived at the most probable solution.
He knew where the bodies were, but he needed help
to dig them up. He could ask McCune for an excavation unit, though the sheriff’s department didn’t have their own. Chances were they would request excavators from big cities nearby, and it would take days to get approval. Even then, they wouldn’t be big enough to exhume thirty bodies in a short period.
There was only one department that boasted the coolest toys and fastest response time.
He dialed a number, introduced himself, and told the operator who he wanted to be transferred to. As he waited, he found that he was drumming the back of the phone. Then the caller came on line.
“Why the fuck—how dare you call me?” Conor spat. “You want to apologize! Ha! Take your sorry and shove it up your—”
“It’s not about what I want. You wanted a case. I got you a case. A huge one, at that. Now give me a minute, or else you will regret it forever.”
There was labored breathing on the other side as Conor struggled to compose his emotions.
Then Gabriel heard, “You get half. Starting… now.”
“The killer I wanted your help to find? Turns out I could do it myself, after all. This guy’s travel records link him to two murder cases abroad—”
“I should have known.” Conor sighed. “Not this again. I’m gonna hang up now.”
“One of them is a billionaire in Germany, and the FBI botched the investigation.”
No reply.
He peeled the phone from his cheek and looked at the display. To his surprise, the call timer was still counting.
“We’ve even got the perp’s DNA, which will connect him to another high-profile case in Canada. I also have a witness who saw one of his victims die.” Gabriel let it sink in. “He agreed to testify in court. With the DNA and his deposition, there is no way our guy will escape.”
“Why should I care?” Conor said.
There was no anger in his voice anymore. He was just playing hard to get.
“I haven’t even told you the best part, have I?” Gabriel took a breath from his inhaler.
He could feel Conor getting impatient.
“I’m probably standing on top of a mass grave of thirty missing persons.”
By the silence, Gabriel knew he had Conor by the balls.
“What? Are you serious?” Conor finally said.
“Oh, and did I say he eats people? Yup, our guy is a cannibal. This will be big. Even bigger than Mr. Bunny.”
“R-really? This isn’t some sick way to get back at me for making you jobless, is it?”
“Look, Conor.” Gabriel filled his lungs to capacity and slowly released the air. “I don’t like you any more than you like me, but this is something that benefits us both. Grapevine says you want to make a name for yourself. Me? I just want to stop this guy. What do you say we put our differences aside, like good cops, and work towards the common goal?”
Gabriel waited anxiously as the phone slipped in his sweaty grip.
“All right, all right, fine. Tell me where you are and what you need.”
Chapter 33
April 11, 2019. 04:17 P.M.
As the black FBI helicopter negotiated its landing, the rotors chopped wind and pressed it against the ground, spraying dust and debris in its wake. Moments later, the door slid open and Conor jumped out. For all the cool buildup, his left knee buckled, causing him to stumble.
Cursing, Conor scrunched and jogged towards Gabriel and Emma, who were leaning on the Camaro’s hood, with Tyrel’s shoe trunk in front of them. As Conor got closer, Gabriel noticed that his nose was still plump and raw. From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma wipe away a smile.
When Conor reached them, he yelled something.
“What?” Gabriel shouted back.
They waited until the blades stopped making a racket.
“You are a tenacious man. I give you that,” Conor looked around. “I just hope to god I’m not wasting my time in this shit town.”
Shit town? Conor said he would be flying to Raleigh in an FBI jet, and then from there to Apex in a helicopter. If driving to Apex was one of the most therapeutic experiences Gabriel had ever had in his life, he could only dream of the serenity he would feel when soaring over the mountains like an eagle. How could Conor have not fallen in love with that sight?
“You brought the team?” Gabriel said.
“There he is.” Conor pointed his rolled-up newspaper behind Gabriel’s ear.
A truck crept through the open gate and parked near the fence, and a guy in a floral shirt and chinos got out. He waved at Conor, opened the tailgate, and pulled out an impressive-looking detector. The guy popped his chewing gum and wore headphones as he began moving the plate-like device over the ground.
Only a single forensic anthropologist for this vast land? Gabriel didn’t let it worry him, though. If the guy found what Gabriel thought he would, then an army of CSU would be joining him soon.
“What is this? A treasure trove?” Conor eyed the trunk. “Is our guy a pirate? What exactly are we doing here?”
“Searching for human remains,” Gabriel said.
“So just a normal day.” Conor tried to sound like a TV cop, Gabriel noticed. “Where is my witness?”
My witness? Gabriel had to admire Conor’s cockiness. Emma had dropped Shane back at his house and left Bill behind on guard duty. Not that Shane would escape, but he might try to hurt himself. He wasn’t yet ready to be shared, particularly not with an insensitive guy like Conor.
“In time,” Gabriel said.
Conor narrowed his eyes. “Why are you hiding him?”
“I’m not. But I can’t hand him over just yet. The perp is my witness’s ex-boyfriend. Understandably he’s heartbroken. We need to counsel him and tell him how he’s being brave and all that. Frankly I doubt you could be compassionate to anyone. So, we are taking care of it. I will give him to you when it’s time.”
“This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have trusted you. I’m going back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Give me one good reason to stay.”
“I can give you thirty.”
Gabriel placed the tip of his shoe on the lid of the treasure trove and tossed it open.
The skulls gleamed in the sunlight, making the tribal art on them radiate vibrant colors. They turned Gabriel’s stomach, and from the look on Emma’s face, they did the same to her. But Conor seemed curious.
“They look so… artsy,” Conor said. “Like designer gumballs. Are you sure they’re real and not Halloween decorations?”
“What can I say?” Emma said. “Serial killers, right?”
“How did you get them?” Conor said.
Gabriel told him the story. “The witness says he stole this box as leverage and hid it in his mom’s house, just in case the murderer came after him.”
Conor lifted an eyebrow and nodded.
Then he pulled Gabriel to the side and turned his back to Emma, and whispered, “As long as we share the fame, it—”
“I’m gonna go and look inside the chopper, Gabe,” Emma said. “Never seen one up close.” She left them alone.
“It’s not about fame,” Gabriel said, when she was out of earshot. “For all I care, you can have it all.”
“My bosses aren’t gullible enough to believe that. We should play like it’s a team effort.”
“How would your bosses believe that? Your complaint against me and that fat bruise on your face will let on we aren’t exactly buddies.”
Conor touched his nose, and his eyes turned feral.
“Let me worry about it,” he said, between clenched teeth. “You just share camera time when the news gets here.”
“What news?” Gabriel frowned.
“I called them on my way over. Which reminds me, I told them I’d send them the coordinates when I landed.” He took his phone out.
Gabriel snatched it from his hand. “No. No news yet.”
“What the… why not? You didn’t bring your best set of clothes? Give me my phone back.”
“Try to be
a cop for once in your life.” Gabriel switched off the phone and handed it back. “If you involve the media now, then you won’t get Tyrel. He’ll escape.”
“We specialize in hunting criminals.”
“Didn’t you listen to anything I said in our first meeting?”
“Imagine that I didn’t and indulge me.”
Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tyrel is Mr. Bunny’s… mentee. You remember how hard it was to catch Mr. Bunny?” He let go of his nose, and his voice rose a few decibels. “Of course you don’t, because you didn’t catch him. We did.”
Conor’s calm cracked. Gabriel reminded himself not to blow his second chance.
“Since Tyrel learned from the best in the business, so to speak, he knows how to escape for good. If he sees his photo plastered over the news, he will most likely leave the country and go someplace where he’s a stranger, and live the rest of his life there. Mr. Bunny had a similar plan, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he taught the same to his student.”
“So what do you suggest we do?”
“Either we get Tyrel and pose for pictures with him later, or you alone pose for them with nothing now. Your choice. But trust me, if you choose the latter, I walk.”
“All right, fine. What do you want now?”
Thank god for the selfish and simpleminded.
“I need time to get this guy. When I do, he’s all yours. And then you’ll get your media.”
“Okay. Not mine, ours—”
Conor jerked when the anthropologist called out, “Sir,” behind him.
“What?” Conor spat.
“I found something.” He removed the headphones, looking ashen. “I need help. I mean, real help. It’s like a graveyard down there.”
* * *
In the next two hours, a dozen FBI vans pulled into the ranch. Gabriel called Bill and ordered him to reach out to Tyrel’s relatives and fish for something useful. Then he asked Emma to contact the trucking companies in and around Apex to find out which one Tyrel had used to transport the animals. So off she went, leaving Gabriel alone to brave what was turning into a long night.
Inhuman: Detective Chase hunts an animal who protects his own Page 20
