Inhuman: Detective Chase hunts an animal who protects his own

by Nathan Senthil

  The intruder had been driving a red Ford Edge. He was twice as tall as her, intimidating, and had a crazy hot body and kind voice. He wore a ski-mask, but she said she could identify him if they showed her his biceps. Weird. But her son had seen the man’s face.

  “Can I talk to him?” Gabriel said.

  “Michael,” Helen called out.

  “Just a minute, Mom,” Michael said to the TV. “I’m in the middle of a fight.”

  “Stop it and come.”

  “I don’t wanna,” he shouted.

  “You march your little butt here this instant,” Helen said, in that ever-dreadful I’m-getting-tired-of-your-shit mom voice.

  Michael got up, rolled his eyes, and dragged himself to Helen.

  Gabriel showed him Tyrel’s photo on his phone. “Is this the man who took you out?”

  “Yes. It’s Uncle Tom. Hey, is this an iPhone XS? That’s so cool!” Michael screeched, and the veins in his neck bulged.

  “I’m sorry.” Helen pulled Michael close to her and kissed the top of his head. “He has a condition with his ears, so he speaks louder.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gabriel said.

  “What do you remember about Uncle Tom?” Emma said.

  Michael put a hand up to denote height. “He’s tall and strong—”

  “Yeah, yeah, so we’ve heard,” Emma said. “Anything else?”

  “We went to get ice cream, and he bought me one cone and two cups.”

  “Which ice cream shop?”

  “Zesto.”

  “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know.” The boy shrugged.

  “What do you mean you don’t know? Then how’d you take him?”

  “No, he took me.”

  “Oh, he used that little TV-thingy in the car?”

  Michael stared at Emma. “No, he didn’t use the GPS. I guess he just knew the shop.”

  Gabriel looked at Helen, whose head hung low. The heavy gun and the damaged little doll rested on her lap. He didn’t think she was holding anything back. Her pleading eyes and weak posture attested to that.

  They got a pitcher of ice water, drank it, then said goodbye to the mother and son.

  * * *

  When they were leaving, a group of fighter planes tore through the atmosphere at deafening speeds.

  “Hey, Gabe?” Emma said. “Tyrel didn’t harm the boy. You think maybe he won’t hurt Agnes?” Her voice quivered.

  “I honestly do not know, Em. But I’m not gonna wait around to find the answer. It’s already been twenty days since he abducted them.”

  “What’s your opinion, as a shrink, Gabe?”

  Gabriel thought for a few moments. “So far, he hasn’t shown mercy to any of his victims. He’s on a screwed-up quest for justice. In his mind, Barnabas is now a mother cow, and Agnes is the veal. Tyrel is also capable of extreme cruelty, so he may be treating Agnes like veal to torment Barna—”

  “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s talk about how we’re gonna get him. Now that Helen is another dead end, let’s plan our next course of action.”

  “No,” Gabriel muttered. “I don’t think so.”

  “What?”

  “I take back what I said about Noah choosing Helen’s account at random.”

  “You think she isn’t a stranger to them.” Emma frowned.

  “She is, but Noah didn’t choose her out of the blue.” Gabriel looked at the sky. “And I’m fairly certain that Tyrel lives in Louisville.”

  Emma crossed her arms. “You know, you aren’t allowed to make leaps when you’re with us slow-minded folk, right? I don’t follow.”

  “Noah had a reason to choose her.” Gabriel took the inhaler from his pocket and used it. “Or at least, someone from this neighborhood.”

  “How come?”

  “Think about it. Michael told us that Tyrel took him to the ice cream shop, didn’t he? Tyrel didn’t use the GPS. Meaning, he’s familiar with this neighborhood.”

  “So?”

  “That got me thinking. It’s risky to have three hundred grand in your trunk and drive for hours. So Noah put the money in the account of someone who lives close to Tyrel.”

  “Still, that’s not enough to conclude that he lives around here.”

  “It isn’t, but I have two more reasons.”

  “They are?”

  “Second reason. Why didn’t Tyrel abduct people from California, Florida, or North Dakota?”

  “Why? He didn’t have a problem going around the world.”

  “Unlike Noah, Tyrel enjoys his work. He loves it to the extent that he collects keepsakes to remember his victims by. He can’t smuggle them in when he’s crossing international borders. But he knows he would be tempted to give himself a trophy and bet on his luck after killing someone within the country.”

  “So he decided not to kill in those three states, but Lexington is somehow fine?”

  “Again, the risk in driving long hours with a tied-up man or a bag of cash or a bloody skull is high. Even a nonfunctional taillight poses a threat.”

  “Okay?”

  “I believe he stopped killing in the US, and when Conor said Tyrel abducted Barnabas from Lexington, I thought there was no pattern. But when I began entertaining the possibility that he lives around here, I found one. He chose this guy because Lexington is close to Louisville, too.”

  “Oh.”

  “Third reason—Fairfield is not far from Louisville. Though Tyrel gave away his animals, he would want to make sure that Andy is providing good care for them.”

  “And to make sure of that, he can just take a short trip to Fairfield, which is also close to Louisville.”

  “Exactly. It’s not an accident that we’re smelling his trails around here.”

  “It makes sense. But how are we going to find him? Louisville is the largest city in Kentucky.”

  “There is a way. A long shot. We need the FBI for that.”

  They went back to the car and called Conor. Gabriel told him why he thought Tyrel lived in Louisville.

  “Sounds logical,” Conor said. “What do you need me for again?”

  “You said Tyrel spends around five hours a day on PETA’s website. Can you get a warrant and ask them to send you the list of all IP addresses that log onto their servers for more than three hours a day? Doesn’t necessarily have to be every day and doesn’t have to be in one sitting. An aggregated average will do.”

  “IP addresses only from Louisville?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me see what I can do.”

  “Great. We’ll wait for your call.”

  “Don’t hold your breath. It’s going to be a tricky warrant to type.”

  When Gabriel hung up, Bill said, “I found another way to go after our target.”

  “What’s that?” Emma said.

  “What did everyone in Apex say about Tyrel?”

  “That he is a rabid dog?” Emma replied.

  “No. The other thing.” Bill raised his eyebrows.

  “That he is gay?”

  “Yup. If Noah taught him everything he knows, then he would have taught Tyrel to never live in a small city where he will stick out because he is a homosexual. The bigger and more diverse a city, the better for him.”

  “Yes, we’re already working under the assumption that Tyrel is living in Louisville,” Emma said.

  “So we go and inquire at homosexual bars? I mean, we have the sketch. Maybe someone has seen him?”

  “That’s not a bad idea, Bill. But who goes to gay bars anymore? They’re like dying businesses, you know? Since dating apps, they’ve become redundant.”

  “I don’t think Tyrel would use an online dating service, Em,” Gabriel said.

  “Why not?”

  “They ask you for a photo, and your chances of meeting someone increase only if you put one up. Noah’s student wouldn’t be so stupid to upload his picture on the Internet for the whole world to see, especially when he knows the police are after him and is
already living the life of a fugitive. He would prefer the old way.”

  “Fair enough. To the gay bars, then,” Emma said. “Good job, Bill. You finally contributed something to the investi—”

  Bill hit Emma on the head. “This is for before when you braked and planted my face—”

  She turned and hit him back.

  “When we get back home,” Gabriel warily eyed the splaying arms moving too close to his eyes, “I’m requesting the captain to transfer me to a precinct where I’m free of you two.”

  Chapter 39

  April 13, 2019. 04:15 P.M.

  Horse races had never crossed Gabriel’s mind when he thought about Kentucky. The Derby was something akin to Christmas in this part of the country, bringing excitement weeks before it happened. Apart from its famous race, Louisville was also known for whiskey, as one-third of all bourbon was made here. This tidbit in Wikipedia had wormed into Gabriel’s brain because a) he was an alcoholic, and b) he had been visiting bars to make inquiries.

  They had checked out eleven bars, but no one recognized Tyrel. So they had eaten lunch at a sandwich joint, rested, and were now driving to the twelfth. As Emma slowed at an intersection and took a right onto the street where the bar was, Gabriel received a call from Conor.

  He put the phone on speaker. “Yeah?”

  “I got the IP addresses from Louisville that spent three or more hours on PETA’s website per day, almost every day of the month.”

  “How many?”

  “Fifty-one.”

  “Holy shit,” Bill said, from the back.

  “It’s fine, Bill,” Emma said. “Louisville is a big city, so just fifty is good. Your Gabe taught me the logic behind it three weeks ago.”

  “What do you mean your?” Bill said.

  Gabriel, sensing an impending altercation, shushed them both.

  Then into the phone, he said, “Okay. In that data, isolate people whose online behaviors suggest they are vegans or animal rights activists, but also meat-loving gastronomes who like to try new recipes.”

  “I don’t understand,” Conor said.

  “I’ve been thinking about this, and I assumed you would bring me dozens of IP addresses from PETA, but we don’t have the time to inspect them all individually. Therefore I came up with a way to condense it further down.”

  “How?”

  “From the result you have, filter out the ones whose online behavior shows they love meat. They search the Internet for recipes, mostly for chicken or pork. These are the people we will need to look at.”

  “Why would vegans search that? Isn’t it contradictory?”

  “Vegans wouldn’t, but having a vegan in the family doesn’t necessarily mean everyone in the household is one. Though families don’t always share the same ideology, they share Wi-Fi.”

  “Your point being?”

  “So from this new pool of result, I want you to exclude the IP addresses of Wi-Fi that belong to a family or a group of people living together, like college students. Then you will be left with only one IP address. Tyrel’s.”

  “Why chicken or pork, though?”

  “Apparently cooked human flesh tastes similar to pork and chicken.”

  “Let’s pretend I didn’t ask you that.”

  “Let’s.”

  They arrived at their destination. Emma parked the car in front of a bar named Inferno. Two homeless people were sitting in an alley beside the bar, and one of them lit a cigarette stub.

  “But why would he need the Internet for recipes?” Conor said. “He’s been doing it for more than two decades. Wouldn’t he know what to cook?”

  “Who is Tyrel?” Gabriel said.

  “A psychopathic serial killer who eats people?”

  “No. I mean, what is he like as a person?”

  “Reckless. Angry. Fearless.”

  “Fearless. Why?”

  “Because he travels out of his comfort zone, sometimes even to other countries, and kills.”

  “Exactly. This type of man wouldn’t be a fan of routine. It will bore him to death. From his socks to his hairdo to the type of toothpaste he uses, he will prefer variety. He wants to experiment. Cooking the same dish, again and again, isn’t something he would be fond of.”

  “He’s a foodie. Makes sense. Forgot that you have a psychology degree.”

  “It helps. Rarely. And it is not just psychology. Didn’t you say that Tyrel’s ISP records from Apex showed that apart from surfing PETA, he also used the Internet for recipes?”

  “Yeah, that’s correct,” Conor said. “Let me search these fifty with your parameters and get back to you.”

  Before the trio exited the car, Gabriel used his inhaler twice. Then he asked Bill to go and talk to the homeless. People who lived on the streets often turned out to be viable witnesses because they never really slept. Little that happened around them went unnoticed. A bribe for booze or a pack of cigarettes would make them forthcoming to help the law.

  As Bill proceeded to the alley, Gabriel and Emma went inside Inferno.

  Unlike the bars they’d checked out so far, this one was decent. And packed. Didn’t Emma say it was a dying business? Perhaps tourists who’d come to watch the festival had contributed to the crowd.

  Gabriel pushed through the crowd, to the bartender, while Emma interviewed the patrons. As he got close to the table, Gabriel glanced at his face in the mirror behind the bar. It was swollen and oily, matted with the dust of four states.

  “What’ll it be?” the bartender said.

  “Have you seen this man?” Gabriel showed him the sketch of Tyrel on his phone.

  The barkeeper put on a pair of reading glasses from under the table. He squinted at Gabriel’s phone.

  “Yeah. Seen him fool around a couple times.”

  Gabriel’s breath cut short. “When was the last time you saw him? With whom? And do you know where he lives?”

  He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice, but failed apparently, because the barkeeper took a step back.

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Detective Gabriel Chase, from New York City.”

  He received the look of disbelief he’d expected would come from someone who didn’t know him.

  “That is Detective Emma.” Gabriel pointed his colleague out, hoping he wasn’t going to be asked for an ID.

  It would be embarrassing if he had to call her over to prove himself.

  The bartender relaxed when he saw Emma, who now seemed to be bullying a customer rather than questioning him. To strangers, Emma’s buzz cut, rough eyes, and prematurely aged face always gave away that she was a cop.

  “How can I help, Detective?”

  “This person.” Gabriel touched Tyrel’s forehead. “When did you last see him?”

  “I don’t remember. He doesn’t come in often. Last Saturday, I think. What’d he do?”

  “He is a witness in a theft.”

  “My, my. You New York cops are just like on the TV, aren’t you? You don’t let even a thief escape. I could only imagine the bad luck of the poor sobs who decide it’s a nice idea to off someone up there.”

  The barkeeper was wrong, but Gabriel didn’t want to educate him and destroy the awe that might prove helpful. Auto theft, larceny, and burglary didn’t even reach thirty percent in the annual clearance reports. Nearly sixty percent of rapes, one-fourth of murders, and half the robberies went unsolved in NYC. But the NYPD still beat many metropolises around the world by a huge margin in their quality of work, resulting in it being one of the safest cities. It just wasn’t the utopia inside the bubble floating over the bartender’s head.

  “Know anything interesting about him?”

  “No, Detective, I’m sorry.” The barkeeper shrugged. “I don’t even know his name. Come to think of it, we haven’t talked except when transacting business.”

  Gabriel handed him a card. “Okay. Call me if you see him again.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out,” he said, enthusiasti
cally.

  Gabriel exited the bar, got into the car, and Emma joined him minutes after.

  “The barkeeper’s seen him,” Gabriel said.

  “So this is the one Tyrel visits?”

  “Not frequently enough for us to do a stakeout. No luck your end?”

  Emma shook her head.

  “We need to speed up the process, Em.”

  Gabriel’s phone rang, and it was Conor.

  “As you predicted,” he said, “some IP addresses have that contradictory pattern. Ten, to be exact. They are both animal rights activists and meat lovers. And one IP address stood out in this ten.”

  “That’s great,” Gabriel said.

  “Um, I don’t think so.”

  Gabriel frowned. “Why not?”

  “The other IP addresses belong to Wi-Fi modems. But this one doesn’t.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “All these nine Wi-Fi modems have several other devices that regularly connect to them. Like you said, family or a group of friends will use the same Wi-Fi network. But the last IP address is not a modem. It’s a laptop. And it connects to random Wi-Fi hotspots whenever it’s online.”

  “He is using free public Wi-Fi to access PETA,” Gabriel said.

  “Yeah.”

  Gabriel cursed Noah for teaching Tyrel to escape cyber forensics, too.

  “All right,” Conor said. “I’ll flag his laptop. When he logs in again, we will get him.”

  “But the girl doesn’t have that kind of time,” Gabriel said, through his teeth. Then he exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. Identify the hotspots he connects his laptop to regularly and send me their locations. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thought you might say that, so I already did.”

  “I’ll look into that.”

  “I also sent you some pictures.”

  “Okay. Let me check them. Bye.” Gabriel hung up.

  Bill yanked the door open, sat beside Gabriel, all teed off.

  “Detective Chase, you gotta come—”

  Gabriel lifted his hand. He unlocked his phone and opened his email. A PDF file and five JPEGs waited for him in the inbox. He opened the PDF first. A list of seven addresses of the hotspots.