“You like nature, don’t you, Detective Chase?” Bill said. “Look at the view.”
Gabriel sat straight and pulled the lever under his seat. The upholstery arched and stopped on his back. He found Emma lying on her stomach in the backseat, one arm dangling while she snored lightly. Poor Beast was denied the top berth with his mom and lay on the rubber mat.
According to the GPS, they were now driving on Mountain Parkway, still two hours out from their destination. The road rose up and down like concrete waves frozen in time. Orange trees on the ridges flashed past, and the golden tarmac ascended to the gray and red morning sky that was smudged with random patches of dark clouds. An awe-inspiring portrait of nature.
He filled his lungs with the misty, cool breeze of mountain air and closed his eyes. But the breathtaking scenery he saw just seconds ago vanished when horrific images flickered behind his eyelids. Images of a treasure trove of colored skulls.
Bill cleared his throat. “We’re dealing with a real monster? Something that eats people?”
“Not a monster.” Gabriel lay back on the seat. “If anything, Tyrel is the saddest person ever.”
“How come?”
“He was bullied, pushed around, ignored, and treated like shit his whole life. So all this rage combined with his newfound strength has made him lash out at the world that’s been nothing but mean to him. He doesn’t let anyone control his life anymore, or make him feel sad or weak. In his mind, he thinks he now controls the world with violence.”
“So that makes him eat people?”
“Yes. And not because they taste good. It’s all about control. Like how a lion or a tiger has complete control over the deer it hunts.” Gabriel looked out the window. “And what better way to control someone. Rather than just destroying them, consuming them also? Cannibalism is the highest form of domination.”
* * *
The Camaro cruised past Tyrel’s new address at 7:05 a.m. The FBI’s Critical Incident Response Group was waiting for them at the street corner. Gabriel asked for plainclothes since Tyrel might be monitoring the roads with hidden CCTV. Noah had been a paranoid man, and Gabriel didn’t put it past him to have passed it along to his student.
The two men from the Critical Incident Response Group that they met down the street were in their forties and introduced themselves as Sidney and Ned from the FBI in Kentucky. One of them had the blueprint of Tyrel’s house and rolled it open on the trunk of their car.
The house had two doors—front and back—a hall, a bedroom on the left, and a kitchen. The living area was small. But there was a vast piece of grazing land behind the house, and a two-story building sat on its center, not unlike the one Tyrel had owned back in Apex. A ranch.
The left side of the house had a wooden fence interwoven with the surrounding dry bushes forming thick foliage. The space between the house and the mini-forest paved way to the ranch in the back.
The whole property belonged to a man named Andy Neilson, an animal rights activist who was famous twenty years ago. There was no record of him renting it out to anyone.
“Probably to evade taxes.” Sidney rolled the paper back.
Ned said that when they drove past the house, the front door appeared to be locked.
“Anyway, we came prepared.” He lifted the trunk lid.
A crowbar shined in the morning sunlight. Also glinting in the trunk were two pistols. They retrieved the equipment and went to work.
Everyone hunched their shoulders and proceeded to the house. As only three of them had a firearm, they divided into three units. Emma went alone and took the left. Gabriel and Sidney secured the front, while Bill and Ned moved around the right to the back. Unarmed, Gabriel was made to follow Sidney.
The front door was not locked. Sidney tossed the crowbar to Gabriel and nudged the door open with his weapon.
A clattering ceiling fan spun over their heads and circulated air that smelled of cigarettes and stale beer. The house was beaten down by years of wear and tear. Plaster peeled off the walls, and mold grew in its lower corners. A couch rested on one side, and a TV hung on the wall opposite, with some reality show playing on it, and Gabriel could have sworn he heard one of the hundred Kardashians arguing.
For a man the size of a grizzly bear, Sidney’s movements were slick and precise.
There was a door on the left, which, according to the floorplan, led to the bedroom. A fish tank was fixed on the partial wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the living room. But it was empty except for a few chunks of rock. On closer inspection, Gabriel saw they weren’t rocks. They were snail shells. And Raphael, cold-blooded like his owner, was loafing in the middle of the remains of his prey.
“Help.”
They stopped in their tracks. The groan came from the bedroom door. Sidney signaled Gabriel to clear the rest of the house, and he would go check the bedroom.
They parted, and Gabriel edged to the kitchen. There was a frying pan on the stove, and an omelet was sizzling on top of it.
Wait. This isn’t right…
A scream stopped Gabriel’s heart and vibrated the silverware. His senses heightened as his thoughts scurried away. It came from the bedroom. He crept toward the source, wielding the steel tool at his side.
Inside, Sidney was helping an old woman get into a wheelchair and shushed her at the same time.
“Don’t you dare shush me, asshole. And put the gun away. There ain’t shit in this shack worth stealing.”
“Stop shouting, old lady. I’m the FBI.” Sidney showed her the badge. “We are on duty.”
“What duty? Harassing an old cripple?” she shouted.
Just as Sidney went to calm her again, a deafening bang made all three jump. A microsecond of silence followed by birds chirping away in terror.
The gunshot exploded from the ranch, and it wasn’t a pistol.
Emma.
“You guys better not piss that boy off or hurt his animals. He’s crazy about them, and if you so much as look at them funny—”
Gabriel bolted outside. The old woman’s threat merged with the adrenaline thumping inside his ears and became background noise.
He sensed Sidney sprinting after him, shouting, “Wait, bro. You don’t have a…”
But Gabriel didn’t care. If anything happened to Emma, he would never forgive himself.
As he rounded the corner, his vision became sharp. His sight fixed on two figures scuffling on the ground twenty yards from him, which he covered in seconds. A huge guy was on top of Emma, elbowing her. Gabriel found a shotgun on the ground, a few feet from the duo. He ran towards it and picked it up.
When he got close, he saw that it was Emma who had the upper hand. She was choking the big man from behind, her legs wrapped around his hips. Eventually, the guy passed out on top of her. Bill, Ned, and Sidney jogged over and stopped near them.
“Oh, my god.” Bill grabbed his hair, his eyes wide like a doe’s. “You killed the wrong guy, Em.”
“What?” Emma grunted and pushed the heavyset man away, who sprawled on the ground with a thud. “I didn’t kill… what kind of police officer are you? I just put him to sleep.”
Ned laughed.
“Don’t just stand there like a bunch of assholes. Help me up.”
Gabriel stopped smiling and gave Emma a hand. The guy came to.
“What’re you doing here, Andy?” Sidney said.
“Andy?” Gabriel said.
“Yeah. The house is registered under his name.”
“What the?” Andy got up and brushed mud from his sleeves. “Who are you people?” he shouted.
“Police,” Bill said.
“That don’t give you a right to strangle me.”
“I am sorry about that—”
“Don’t be sorry, Gabe,” Emma said. “He tried to shoot me.”
“I heard a noise from behind. Thought you were a coyote sneaking up on me. The same motherfucking coyote that’s been killing my chickens. I’ve been waiting
for that son of a bitch here all morning.”
Gabriel told Andy that they were searching for a man named Tyrel, who’d transported his animals to Andy’s ranch.
“Well, I don’t know about no Tyrel,” Andy said. “A guy named Lennon called me one day and asked if he could leave his animals with me. Said his dad used to maintain a ranch and he passed recently, and Lennon couldn’t take care of them no more. So I accepted.”
“Why?” Bill said.
“Because I love animals.”
“But you have an omelet.” Gabriel thumbed behind him, at the house.
“That’s my ma’s.”
“Do you generally accept strangers dumping animals on you?” Emma said. “Are you loaded with money or something?”
“Who said anything about free? I would be happy to, though. If I was rich, that is.”
“So Ty—I mean, Lennon gave you the money?” Gabriel said.
“Yes, sir. Three hundred and fifty thousand in cash.”
“What?” Bill said.
“Gave fifty thousand dollars a year and a half ago and said he would settle the rest soon. Asked me to care for the animals in the meanwhile.”
“When did he give you the rest?” Gabriel said.
“Fifteen days ago, give or take.”
“Lucky you, huh?” Sidney said.
“Why do you say that?”
“I mean, you clearly ripped him off. Who needs almost half a million for animals?”
“Have you ever taken care of a ranch?”
“I have a cat.” Sidney smiled.
“So I forgive you for not knowing the expenses. Lennon gave me twenty-four cows, three horses, a few rams, and a donkey, and that entitled turtle who only eats mollusks. For one animal, the food costs two dollars a day, seven-fifty a year. Around twenty-one thousand a year for all of them, and two hundred ten thousand for ten years, which is how long Lennon said I should care for them. Given their current age, they would all start to die around that period.”
“Oh.” Sidney scratched under his chin.
“And that’s for food alone. There’s labor cost and medical expenses, electricity, water, land tax. Don’t forget to account for inflation and the rise in the prices of commodities. So what he’s given me is somewhat in the ballpark, but I believe I may have to chip in some.”
“So basically he trusted you with thousands of dollars and the animals?” Emma said. “Didn’t it seem odd?”
“It didn’t, because I trusted him, too.”
“Why is that?”
“Would you guys spend fifty-G’s on your father’s ranch animals, which have no commercial value?”
No one answered.
“Yeah, didn’t think so.”
“What do you mean, no profit?” Bill said. “Don’t cows give us milk?”
“Not these cows, no. They are all old, sterile, or have some medical complications. None of Lennon’s animals are capable of making a penny. He said his father saved abandoned animals like these and gave them new lives. So I trust this guy. Respect him, too. Goddamn hero is what he is.”
“You respect him?” Emma spat. “Why don’t you tell that to the families of—”
Gabriel lifted a hand and signaled her to stop. Andy didn’t need to know his hero was actually a serial killer. And Gabriel also decided not to seize the cash. They hadn’t travelled this far to take food away from sick and disabled animals.
Gabriel took his inhaler out and puffed.
“Don’t you want to use the money for yourself?” Sidney said.
“It’s not mine to use,” Andy replied.
“You can skim a little off the top, and no one would notice.” Sidney tipped his head towards the house. “Looks like you guys could use the money.”
“I see why you would say that. I am a poor guy with an old mother—”
“I meant no—”
“It’s easy being good when you have everything and live a happy life. But it’s not easy when you’re suffering. Doing a little bad can save us a lot of grief, and some people cave in to the pressure. But not me.”
“Just trying to help.” Sidney lifted his hands.
Andy gave a dry chuckle. “Why are you after Lennon?”
“He isn’t exactly who you think he is,” Gabriel said.
“I guess I misjudged him, huh? Leave your card. I’ll ring you if I hear from him again.”
“That’d be lovely, Mr. Neilson.” Gabriel dug out his card and handed it over.
Andy looked at the card, but his mind was elsewhere.
“You know something, Detective? Good people become bad and do some super-bad stuff. But remember, they weren’t like that to begin with.” He sighed and shook his head in contempt. “It’s this world, I tell you. It corrupts the best among us.”
* * *
Back in the car, Gabriel punched the dashboard. A wasted nine-hour journey. Then he calmed and breathed deep until he felt the air struggle against the tip of his esophagus.
Think, goddamn it.
He rested his forehead on the board and obeyed his mind.
“Yeah, that’s surely gonna help,” Emma said. “Let’s all pummel Bill’s dad’s car until an idea magically pops up.”
“That isn’t useful, Em,” Bill said.
“Neither is fracturing your knuckles.”
They all stared at each other in silence.
“Hey, you remember Noah’s letter?” Emma said.
“What about it?” Gabriel sat up straight.
“Didn’t he say he sent a substantial amount to his protégé from the Cayman Islands?”
“There is no lead there. Noah didn’t transfer it to Tyrel’s account.”
“Doesn’t matter. Big Brother is always monitoring online transactions, Gabe. This is a lot of money. Money from an offshore account. Catch my drift?”
Gabriel did. His brain sparked and his eyes lit up.
Tyrel sold his properties and withdrew the cash. His bank account wasn’t used after that. So how did Noah send him $300,000?
That’s it. Emma was a genius. Follow the money.
Gabriel called his new FBI pal, who answered on the second ring.
“Please tell me you got him,” Conor said. “I already picked what suit I’m gonna wear for the press meet.”
“If only pretty-pleases worked in catching murderers.”
“Ugh.” Conor sighed. “What now?”
“Tyrel withdrew three hundred thousand dollars recently. You are gonna help me trace it.”
“And how am I gonna do that?”
“Ask around about any money that came into the country from offshore accounts—”
“That’s super-easy. Tens of thousands of people transact that much every day.”
“Three hundred grand exactly, on March 24th. Noah escaped from the prison around 7:00 p.m., drove to a cybercafé in Indianapolis, and sent the money from a bank in the Caymans.”
“Yes, you told me all this when you talked about Noah’s letter.”
“Factoring in the time he took to change his clothes and car in Irving, New York, he must have transferred the money between 3:00 and 6:00 a.m. I gave you the amount, date, and time.”
“Okay, that’s not bad, but—”
“Don’t complain so much. Think. Three hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money coming from overseas. Taxable money in the eyes of the government, until proven otherwise. Even for tax exemption, they need documents. So the IRS definitely should have tracked this already and looked into it, particularly because the money was transacted from a tax haven. All you have to do is ring someone from the Department of Treasury and inquire.”
“Now this work, calling someone and waiting on hold, it sounds simple. My kind of job.” Conor hung up.
In five minutes, he called back. “Her name is Helen Fletcher. Noah deposited the money into her account. Fun fact—she also bought a gun recently.”
“You got just one result?” Gabriel said.
“Oh, no.
A dozen people received more than a hundred thousand dollars within the timeframe you’ve given me.”
“Then how did they isolate Helen?”
“Because the others were cleared by the IRS. Everyone on the list made regular big transactions, except this woman, who had twenty-three dollars in her account balance until last month.”
Like Emma had said, that large an amount from an offshore bank would get the attention of the taxman. Noah would have known that and not transferred it to Tyrel’s new identity. So he had sent it to someone else.
A poor scapegoat.
“Okay. Text me Helen’s address,” Gabriel said.
“Will do. Hey, I just got something from the computer nerds.”
“What is it?”
“According to Tyrel’s ISP records from Apex, he spent an average of two hours on YouTube, an hour on PornHub—interracial gay porn, if you are interested—then vegan shops and recipes every once in a while. Fairly boring stuff.”
“It is—”
“Until I cracked his freaking pattern!”
“What? Hold on a sec,” Gabriel put the phone on speaker and placed it on the dashboard. “Tell us how.”
“The key here is animal rights websites. Tyrel logged onto PETA for four to five hours a day. He followed this pattern until the last day he was in Apex. Chances are, he is still doing the same.”
“That’s just… wow,” Emma said.
“I know, right? Yay! Everybody’s so stoked on me.”
Emma rolled her eyes.
“Anyway, he chooses people who are accused of extreme animal cruelty. Articles about Gerald and Mila were published on PETA’s website, and Tyrel killed them shortly after. Same goes for Mr. Woo and some Japanese shipping magnate.”
“Shipping magnate?” Gabriel said.
“Yeah, you missed it. But there is no way you could have known. Even I spotted it only after I saw the pattern. PETA published an article about the whaling problem in Japan, and our guy goes and guts him. Like, literally disemboweled him. You know how I made the connection? This victim was missing his heart, too.”
“You did good,” Gabriel said. “How many in total?”
“After Mr. Woo and that whaler, there are five other people who were published on PETA’s site, but Tyrel picked only two.”
Inhuman: Detective Chase hunts an animal who protects his own Page 23
