Gabriel shook his head. “It’s a setup. Tyrel would’ve let her go once he killed Barnabas.”
“I guess so, too. Tyrel abducted her to hurt Barnabas. To cause him more pain while he died. The pain of losing a child.”
“Just like those cows in his veal farm.”
“Ugh.” Emma curled her lips. “We’ve been racing all this time to save Barnabas, someone who shit on the law and was indicted for animal cruelty? Why don’t I feel super?”
“Because he is not a nice person.”
“I wish we were late.”
“We don’t get to choose who we save. Bad guys do. We are just regular cops trying to uphold the law.”
“So it’s just like you said before? We do the job, go home, and sleep with a bitter taste in our mouths?”
“Not always. But sometimes, yeah.” Gabriel patted Emma’s shoulder. “By the way, why haven’t they taken Bill to the hospital yet?”
“Why else? Busy night tonight. We were given only two ambulances. They transported Tyrel and Barnabas in one, and they just returned. They’ve got Bob in one, and this is Bill’s.”
“You heard from the hospital?”
“Barnabas is in the ICU. He’s lost a leg, his tongue, and his lips. He was also flogged and force-fed some shit. He’s in hell, all right, but somehow alive.”
“Tyrel?”
“He’ll live, too. Neither shot penetrated anything vital. Not even a bone.”
“He is still dangerous. I won’t be surprised if he breaks the cuffs and escapes. Please tell me we’ve got guards on him.”
“We do. Louisville PD is guarding him—”
“That isn’t enough—”
“I knew you would say that.” Emma lifted her hand. “Remember Sidney and Ned from Fairbanks? They will relieve the guards of their duties later tonight. Conor is putting Tyrel under CIRG’s watch, twenty-four-seven. Oh, and he’s flying here as we speak.”
“That’s good.”
“He did a number on you both.” Emma snickered. “If it wasn’t for me saving your sorry asses, the two of you’d be long gone by now.”
“Shut up, douchebag.” Bill got up. “You should have helped us sooner. If it weren’t for that ugly mutt of yours, Tyrel would have escaped.” Bill rubbed Beast’s head, and the pug returned the love by licking his fingers.
“No, Bill,” Gabriel said. “If it weren’t for the love Tyrel has for animals. He could have killed Beast and escaped, but he didn’t. Tyrel’s got a sense of morality.” He looked at the smoky sky. “Problem is, he has too much of it.”
Chapter 47
May 4, 2019. 07:41 P.M.
Gabriel turned off the shower, exited the bathroom, and stood under the ceiling fan. When his skin had completely dried, he donned his regular choice of attire and went into the kitchen. An hour before, Conor had called and asked him to collect Bill and come to his office immediately. Something urgent, he said, but he couldn’t discuss it over the phone.
With a cereal bowl in one hand and phone in the other, Gabriel returned to the living room. He sat on the bed and touched one of the news apps. Another article about Tyrel greeted him. He shook his head in disdain at the title—Vegan Cannibal. Out of all the things the media had named him, this oxymoronic nickname was the stupidest yet. He liked Skull Collector and Heart Eater better. Even Psycho Cupid rang fine with him, given Tyrel’s disposition to steal hearts, literally.
As Gabriel skimmed through the lines, he became aware that they’d been recycling the same old crap for weeks—jumbling sentences, using the thesaurus and a pinch of creativity to revamp it. Thanks to these assholes, Tyrel had amassed an enormous following, inside prison and out. He’d been receiving love letters from both genders, and fan mail from around the world. Apparently these fanatics had forgotten the cannibal part in his latest moniker.
A pair of long honks blared outside his window, signaling that it was time. Gabriel pocketed his phone, locked the door, and trotted downstairs. Emma’s Accord idled near the curb, and Bill was slouching in the back. Considering the extra space Bill’s broken leg might require, Gabriel got in the front.
“Evening.” Emma put the car in gear. “Meeting your new bestie for dinner?”
“I don’t think it’s for dinner.” Gabriel removed the inhaler from his pocket and took two short breaths from it. “And he isn’t my bestie. You two are.”
“Hey, Bill.” Emma glanced at the mirror. “Do you know that ever since Conor was promoted as the leader of BISKIT, he’s been cajoling Gabriel to join the FBI? Your Detective Chase might not hang out with us normies anymore.”
“Pretend the car is driving itself, Bill.” Gabriel turned back. “Leg’s feeling better?”
“It’s healing okay, but…”
“But what?”
“My bank balance is seriously hurt. Physical therapies, DMEs, doctor fees, and drugs, they all cost mighty high when you don’t have coverage and you gotta pay them out of your own pocket. I was on suspension when Tyrel beat the crap out of me, so there are complications in claiming insurance.”
“Yeah, the captain told me. He’s doing everything in his power to invalidate the suspension and get you your money. In the meantime, if you need anything, let us know, all right?”
“Yeah,” Emma said. “Our interest rates are low. And if you don’t pay up, we’ll just cut off your bad leg.”
Bill laughed. “More than anything, I miss you, Em.”
“Now, now. Don’t get all soft on me and make it awkward. I haven’t forgotten your bloody kiss.”
“Say,” Bill propped his elbows on their seats and leaned forward, between Emma and Gabriel, “you haven’t done your routine checkup recently, have you?”
“No. Why?” Emma replied.
“Don’t you know nasty diseases spread via blood?”
“What do you mean?” Emma frowned.
“Nothing,” Bill whispered. “Or maybe you’ll get a not-very-pleasant surprise on your next physical.”
“You’re kidding?”
Bill smiled menacingly.
“You are kidding,” Emma said to herself, but her face shrunk in doubt.
Bill turned to Gabriel. “The Daily Herald named you Demon Chaser? That’s kickass. Ashley did a good job.”
“She sure did,” Gabriel said.
Ashley was chairperson of the biggest news conglomerate in New York. An unfortunate victim of Mr. Bunny, she later became friends with them all, especially with Gabriel because they shared a similar pain. And she certainly did a great job on Tyrel’s story, in spite of Gabriel begging her not to. It’s one of the interesting things that happened following their return to NYC from Louisville. But the most interesting thing was that he and Liz had gone to see Avengers: Endgame. Twice in the same evening.
Conor being Conor, capitalized on everything he could from the affair, eventually netting the big job he’d been aiming for. During the first week, Gabriel couldn’t surf the news without spotting Conor’s face. He took credit as their boss, but told the reporters that Gabriel, Emma, and Bill had done all the legwork and caught the cannibal. Since Gabriel was already known to the news and still fresh in the public’s memory from Mr. Bunny’s case, they made a circus out of it.
Though Gabriel denied all requests for interviews and book deals, he low-key enjoyed the spotlight. Being renowned for good conveyed the message that baddies never won in the long run. Also, he loved his job. By catching Noah and Tyrel, he’d brought closure to more than fifty murder victims and their families. It was an achievement he was proud of. So a little recognition wouldn’t hurt.
He also liked the picture his friend had printed on the front page of the Daily Herald. Some smart photographer had taken a shot of Gabriel lying on top of the Camaro, listening to songs and gazing at fireworks, while the paramedics, cops, and CSU personnel worked around him. But he didn’t like the picture other newspapers had printed—Tyrel in prison garb, smiling and throwing a peace sign to the cameras outside the
federal courthouse in North Carolina.
In the end, everything turned out okay. Tyrel would never breathe free air again, Gabriel got his job back, and Conor was moving to Quantico next week.
Then what was this sudden meeting about?
It took them one hour to reach the Federal Plaza. Emma stopped the car in front of the building.
“You guys wait here. I’ll go park in the basement and come back.”
Gabriel opened the back door, got the crutches from the footwell, and helped Bill out. Then Emma drove around the building, parked and returned.
With Gabriel assisting him on his side and Emma guarding the back, Bill hobbled up the short series of steps leading to the shiny, spacious lobby.
“Damn, Gabe,” Emma said. “Look at the buns on this lardo. He’s gaining weight like a pregnant pig.”
“Oh, forgive me for not going on my daily runs,” Bill said. “A serial killer broke my freaking leg, is all.”
Both continued bantering until they got into a crowded elevator. The surrounding suits kept them on their best behavior until they got off on the twenty-third floor.
Gabriel was hit by déjà vu as he shambled to the same bulletproof booth he’d scuffed to almost a month ago. The same petite woman welcomed them from behind the glass and made them go through the same drill. She stashed the guns, photocopied their IDs, and then came out. She used her access card to open a series of doors and led them to the same enormous meeting room where Gabriel first encountered the pink-haired girl, Madeline.
The déjà vu ended here, because Conor was in the room instead. The first thing Gabriel noticed was that Conor’s nose had healed. He was sitting at the head of the table, scrolling through his phone.
When he saw the trio, he stood. “I didn’t know you were bringing Emma.”
“Bill can’t drive,” Gabriel said, “and I don’t have a car. He wouldn’t be comfortable on a motorcycle.”
“It’s cool.” Emma moved to the door. “I can wait outside and chat with that charming receptionist of yours.”
“No, please don’t… I didn’t mean to…” Conor’s demeanor was serious, unlike his usual self.
And grim.
“What is it?” Gabriel said.
“Take a seat.” Conor motioned to the chairs near his.
They skirted the table, sat and waited, but Conor didn’t speak. He absently toyed with the flap of a brown envelope resting in front of him.
Now Gabriel didn’t like anything about this sudden meeting. Premonition gave rise to a nerve-racking sense of impending dread in his stomach.
“We tracked your dad’s phone,” Conor finally said, avoiding eye contact. “I… I’m sorry, Chase.” He slid the envelope to Gabriel’s side.
Gabriel’s heart raced while everything around him froze. It couldn’t be.
“I just… I don’t know what else to say.” Conor got up and squeezed Gabriel’s shoulder. “I will… um… I’ll leave you guys alone.”
Once Conor closed the door behind him, Gabriel inched his hand to the envelope and picked it up. His fingers trembled as he opened it and shook the 8x12-photos onto the table.
The first one showed an ocean, its glittery surface reflecting the orange light of the setting sun. The picturesque image was blemished by what was on the narrow beach—two dead bodies lay side by side, partially submerged in the waves.
The second photo was a closeup of their upper bodies. They were both men, and their hands were tied behind their backs, and burlap bags pulled over their heads. Something had perforated the front of the bags, and dark brown stains encircled the tiny holes. One victim wore jeans and a cardigan, while the other wore camo pants and a maroon T-shirt that read #1 Pizza Lover in yellow, Comic Sans font.
Gabriel recognized that T-shirt. It was his gift to Joshua last Father’s Day.
Now the sickness in his stomach became more tangible. Teardrops fell on his cold fingers. In a quick motion, he wiped his eyes and moved on to the next photo.
Peter Lamb, Bill’s father, Joshua’s partner, who’d gone with him to hunt for Lolly, was lying on a steel table. Under his left eye, a circular gash replaced half his cheekbone. The gaping wound had a hollow center, bordered by red, torn muscle tissues, brown dried blood, and yellow fat. Exit wounds were always uglier, especially if a huge caliber gun did the deed. The kind of gun Lolly had used throughout his career as the most murderous bank robber in the history of the US.
Gabriel’s consciousness slowly abandoned him. It evaporated and hovered over the room, his mind attached to his body by a thin string that might snap anytime. His instinct knew what he was going to find in the last photo, even before seeing it. He shuffled to the final 8x12, with numb hands. It showed Gabriel’s dad lying on another steel table. He was missing a part of his face, too.
Gabriel shut his eyes. Maybe it was a nightmare. All he had to do was force himself to wake up, and everything would vanish. He needed everything to vanish. He prayed everything would. But when his eyelids fluttered open, nothing had changed.
With Gabriel unable to tolerate the pressure, his mind shut off. He was mildly aware of Bill asking what was wrong and then looking at the photos himself. He, too, broke down after seeing his dad on the postmortem table.
Was Gabriel going catatonic? Because he didn’t respond when Emma consoled Bill and him. He didn’t respond when Conor came back and informed him that Joshua and Peter would be transported to NYC the next day, from Detroit. He didn’t respond when Conor promised he would pull some strings and give them the police burial they deserved. After all, they had died while doing detective work, even though they were retired.
They did. Didn’t they? It wasn’t fair for their fathers to have led the kind of lives they had, and meet the ends they met. Wasn’t fair at all.
Gabriel couldn’t control the anguish. It was too much for him. His eyes closed, and this time everything did vanish.
Everything but the raw stabbing pain in his heart.
Chapter 48
May 5, 2019. 12:00 A.M.
Gabriel didn’t remember riding the elevator to the Federal Plaza’s basement, or getting into Emma’s car, but he remembered her driving him to her house. He remembered slouching at the dinner table, but he didn’t remember eating. Emma gave him a sleeping pill, but did he take it? And how did he end up on the couch, watching some talk show, with Beast on his lap?
Drifting in and out of reality had been his brain’s only feeble attempt to escape the pain. It didn’t help, though. He knew what would. And to do that, he needed to break out of this stupor.
With enough concentration, he extended his arm and cradled Beast. He stretched his legs, rested his feet on a coffee table, and laid his head back on the couch.
And then he let it out.
Tears cascaded down freely, warm and pure. He sniffled and tried his best not to bawl. It had always been him and Joshua—he’d never had any family except his dad. A friend more than a father. A role model more than an adviser. Gabriel became a cop to follow in his footsteps. Joshua Chase fought crime and dedicated his life to its victims. Now some worthless maggot had killed that great man and tossed him to the fishes.
Rage unlike anything Gabriel had ever felt brewed inside. The sickness in his stomach transformed into broiling fire, which crawled up to his heart, replacing the blood it pumped into his veins with seething lava.
Motherfucking Lolly. Gabriel gritted his teeth and closed his fist. He wanted to kill Lolly. No. He wanted to destroy him—mince the body, incinerate the pieces, and dissolve the ashes with pee in a toilet bowl. It wasn’t in Gabriel’s character to feel this kind of fury, but there was only so much a person could take. First Noah, then Tyrel, and now Lolly. Gabriel wanted to scream. So he screamed, not in the dark room painted with the flickering of late-night TV, but into the void in his head. Beast, sensing danger, slid down from his lap and scurried away.
The front door opened and Bill entered with two 500-milliliter bottles of cheap
vodka. He stopped, caught Gabriel’s agonized eyes, and questioned him silently.
And Gabriel answered with a subtle nod.
Bill gimped over to the sofa and plunked himself on the other side. Without a word, he handed a bottle to Gabriel. Both screwed the caps open.
“To our dads.” Bill raised the bottle.
“To slain heroes,” Gabriel replied, in a raspy voice.
Despite being a recovering alcoholic, he didn’t even pause before placing the bottle between his dry lips. The liquid burned on the way down and fueled his already combusting heart. The burning need for vengeance melted his composed personality, exposing something else. Something unrestrained.
“Our dads didn’t deserve to go like…” Bill rubbed his face on his sleeve. “They deserved better.” He tightened his jaws and stared at Gabriel. “We gotta make this right.”
Gabriel agreed. They had to make this right. There was no other way life could go on. So he took his phone from his pocket and called Conor.
“Yeah, Chase?” Conor said, softly.
“Is the offer still open?”
It took Conor a few seconds to understand what Gabriel meant.
“Of course. Yes, yes, it is.”
“I will join the FBI’s new department that you’re gonna lead.”
“That’s such a great—”
“On one condition.”
“Let me guess. You wanna investigate Lolly, arrest him, and get justice? Granted.”
“No.”
“Huh?”
Gabriel turned up the bottle over his mouth and drank the remaining portion in one sip. His head spun, but his thoughts had never been clearer.
“I thought you always wanted justice,” Conor said. “If that’s not it, then what do you want?”
“Revenge,” Gabriel said, between clenched teeth, in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own. “I want Lolly dead.”
Inhuman: Detective Chase hunts an animal who protects his own Page 29
