Eleven (Brandon Fisher FBI Series #1)

by Carolyn Arnold

“We’re here to do a job. Can you handle that?” Jack’s eyes hardened. I tried to read them, to see if there were more layers to the man than he wanted to project. I was shut out.

  “Yes.”

  “Alright then. Answer the question. Explain the picture of you, and why you think Earl was innocent and not Bingham’s follower in the murders.”

  “We discussed the traits this type of killer would possess.”

  “Such as?”

  “He’d likely be a psychopath, unfeeling. Earl was afraid.”

  “Keep going.”

  “He didn’t want to talk. A narcissist would do their best to talk and manipulate their way out of a situation. A narcissist would love themselves too much to hold a gun to their head even if trying to establish an upper hand.”

  “Okay, then why the picture of you sent to Bingham?”

  “Just as he said, it was supposed to be funny.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Bingham is the one with control and power. He definitely fits the profile of a narcissist. He takes pride in maneuvering events to please himself. He basks in glory when people follow in his lead. He only surrounds himself with those who build him up, feed his ego, and give him that power.”

  “Okay so take Bingham out of the picture. What does this tell us about his apprentice?”

  “He’s a follower. Weak.”

  Jack matched eyes with me. “Now, we’re getting somewhere, Kid.”

  “Earl could have been the apprentice.” My legs felt weak.

  Jack pressed his lips and nodded.

  In that moment, I felt stupid and naïve. I should have known better. My head turned back towards Earl’s body. Now instead of looking on the man with sympathy and compassion, rage and redemption filtered over my vision as a screen. Doctor Jones and his assistant were enclosing Earl in a black bag.

  “He was going to kill me.” I turned back to Jack who lifted a shoulder.

  “Guess we don’t have to worry about that now.”

  Jones walked over to us. “I’m taking him back to the morgue. Cause of death is no mystery.” He took pause, his attention going between Jack and myself. “However there will still be a full autopsy.”

  “I would expect no less,” Jack said. He had turned over his firearm as per protocol. Any time a gun was fired, it needed to be confiscated for review to determine whether it was a good shot, or in other words justifiable.

  “Earl was a respected member of this community agent. He will be missed.” Jones’s Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. “He was born here.”

  Jack said nothing, and I knew there wasn’t anything he could have said. An apology would have presented itself insincere at best. Jack had already said it best to the team, us or them. I’ll always pick us.

  “I better git goin’. The bodies are piling up in my morgue.” Jones walked away, limping to the right side, as he always did. Somehow it seemed more apparent today. Maybe it was sadness weighing his steps.

  “Boss.” Zachery came into the dining room. In a gloved hand, he held up a book. “It’s on the coinherence symbol.”

  Zachery had fallen into a submissive, quiet role since Earl had raised the gun on him. Even when he matched eyes with me, they were vacant of the jovial spark they normally fired with.

  Paige came up to us, breathless and rushed. “We’ll be sending his computer to Nadia, but there’s some documents on there.” Her voice lost its strength. One look to Jack, and she regained it. “Pictures of the burial site, and the victims. Pictures of all of us taken at the crime scene. He had captions under all of us.”

  “What was mine?” I asked.

  Paige averted eye contact with me.

  I came to within inches of her face. “What was it?”

  “Sinner.” She let out a jagged breath. Her eyes lifted to match mine. “Sinner who must be punished.”

  To again be confronted with my sin, my mistake, it felt like a bruise that would never heal, that kept being hit repeatedly. I walked away.

  “Brandon.” I heard Paige call out after me. I suspected Jack and Zachery were watching me.

  I went into the main bedroom and found the CSI who had confronted Jack and pushed him against the wall.

  “What the—”

  I tightened my grip. “Tell us what you know!”

  His face wrinkled up. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

  “Get your fuckin’ hands off him!” The other CSI, who had been beside him in the dining room, came into the room and pulled back on my left shoulder.

  Wrong move! I spun around. My fist connected with his jaw.

  A hand went to cradle his face for a second before he started after me. “You little f—”

  Jack came into the room, but his image was blurred by the rage pumping through my system. I turned back on the other CSI. He punched me in the gut, doubling me over. His knee met my chin. Each blow only strengthened the fight within me, infusing more adrenaline into my veins. I straightened out and went to strike him back but I had taken pause for too long.

  He was lying on the floor, curled into a fetal position. Blood poured from his nose, and he spit blood onto the carpet. The other CSI whose jaw I hit was sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands up in surrender.

  Jack’s knuckles were bloodied. He yanked me out of the room, through the house and onto the back deck. He dragged me along so quickly that I never got a flat foot planted beneath me, only moved heel, toe, heel, toe. He pushed me back from him.

  His cheeks were red, his breathing deep. “You ever pull a fuckin’ stunt like that again you’ll be off the team. You hear me?”

  “They know something!”

  “Do you hear what I’m saying?” We were inches apart. Jack’s voice projected loud enough to reach the end of the street.

  “Royster shot a gun at me three times!”

  “And he missed every time.” We stood facing each other in a deadlock. “He’s trained in weapons. If he wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”

  “It doesn’t explain the pictures on his computer, the caption, the photo he sent to Bingham in prison.”

  Jack faced heavenward.

  “I know he said he didn’t mean anything by it. But how can you not mean anything when you fire a gun?”

  “You’re not going to get anywhere with your hotheaded temper. Fuck your red hair! Do you think they’re going to want to talk to us now? You’ve probably shut them up for good.”

  I let out a deep breath. “They’ll talk to us.”

  Jack held up a hand to silence me. “You pull something like that again, or force my involvement, you’re finished. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

  Shadows moved on the other side of the patio doors. Coming into view, it was Paige and Zachery watching us. Somehow, I picked up on Paige’s concern through a pane of glass.

  “I said do you hear what I’m saying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I hear what you’re saying.”

  Jack slid open the door and went back into the house. Paige stepped onto the deck and closed the door behind her. Zachery followed Jack.

  “Are you okay?” She extended a hand to my shoulder but pulled it back before making contact.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I couldn’t look in her eyes.

  “If it makes you feel better, I’m on your side.”

  I lost the fight and looked at her. The way the sunlight hit her face, the paleness of her skin, the soft curls that framed her face, how her lips were swollen as if she had spent hours kissing. They turned upward into a smile. I turned away. I couldn’t allow myself to get sucked back in. I heard Debbie’s voice, and the way she spoke I love you.

  “I can’t do this.” My jaw tightened. I swallowed hard and matched eyes with Paige.

  “I know.” She licked her lips and bit down on the bottom one.

  “I’ve got to get back in.” I jacked a thumb towards the house.

  “Yeah.” The disappointment
in her voice evident, yet I had nothing with which to melt it away.

  Jack stood in the doorway to Royster’s bedroom, his back to the hallway. I came up behind him. Zachery was inside the bedroom, his arms crossed. He gave me a look that condemned me to a life of mall security while Jack just ignored me. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

  The one CSI sat on the bed with a hand cradling his jaw. His gaze on me. “Just keep him away from me.”

  Jack’s eyes filtered to me for an instant, a barely measureable amount of time. “How close were the two of you to the vic?”

  “You mean the man you shot.” The younger CSI who had been flattened to the floor when I had left was now leaned against the far wall.

  Jack didn’t say a thing.

  “Earl and I were close.”

  “I asked how close.”

  Zachery brushed between Jack and me to leave the room. He mumbled something to Jack on the way by about how he was going to look at the computer with Paige and see what else he could find.

  “We go back to sc-school years.” The CSI’s arms crossed.

  With the motion, my mind went to the evidence collected in the case. These men were part of the forensic investigative team. If they knew of Earl’s involvement, or were even involved themselves, everything would be compromised. “Did you know he was working with Lance Bingham?”

  All three pairs of eyes, including Jack’s, shot to me. Again, the younger CSI spoke, “Hell no.”

  “Are you saying that to protect a memory, or yourself?”

  “Is this guy for real?” He shared scoffed laughter with the other CSI.

  “Answer his question,” Jack said, cutting their mockery short.

  “Kev,” he nodded a head to the CSI sitting on the bed, rubbing his jaw. “Earl and I, none of us was involved in no murder.”

  “You didn’t know that your best friend was working with a serial killer?”

  Kevin matched eyes with the younger CSI. “Charlie, maybe we should say something—”

  “Damn right you should say something!” Jack took a few steps forward. The anger radiating off him now paled by comparison to the wrath he projected when he verbally lashed me.

  Charlie pushed off the wall with his leg. “It’s not like we know something. He’s just been different for a while. But I mean that’s to be expected.”

  “To be expected,” I said, hoping he’d continue.

  “Well, his younger brother went missing a while ago now.”

  “So you think he suspected Bingham of something and got close to him?”

  Charlie placed a hand on his hip, flexed his hand, and then tapped his fingers there. “Six years ago Robert, that was Earl’s brother, left for work but didn’t return home. When police followed up, his workplace hadn’t even seen him that day.”

  “Somewhere between home and work, he went missing.”

  Charlie glared at me. “Very good.” He continued, “We all did what we could for Earl, but it was hard on him. Robert was the only family Earl had left. We all have families,” he gestured a hand between him and Kevin. “Kevin has a wife and kids. I have older parents I care for. Things are busy in life even here in the country.” He looked between Jack and me as if ready to defend his statement. “Lance was there for him when the rest of us couldn’t be. He didn’t have family responsibilities.”

  I recalled the body Jones had shown us in the cellar. It was a male and dated back about six years. Maybe that had been Robert Royster.

  “Oh good God.” Kevin’s face paled. His eyes weren’t focused on anything for seconds as we waited for an elaboration. He matched eyes with mine. “Lance told Earl that wherever Robert was, he was at peace.”

  There was a rap of knuckles on the doorframe. Zachery stood there. “You’re going to want to come see this.”

  Paige looked up from behind the desk in the office. “Wait until you see all this for yourselves.”

  Earl’s office was organized. No stray paper littered the surface of the desk, filing cabinet or bookshelf. I traced a hand over his collection of fiction and recognized some of the authors. Earl Royster had a fascination with science fiction. I noticed the void where the book on the coinherence symbol must have been.

  “These were found in a folder called miscellaneous,” Paige said as she moved over to make room for Jack and me behind the desk. Zachery was already there.

  The images that filled the screen were familiar, but only in a vague manner. There was a picture of a circular grave but it had stakes in the ground. The last one left empty didn’t have them. “These were taken before a victim was placed inside?”

  Paige faced me. “Yep.”

  We held eye contact for a second before I turned to Jack. “He was in on this.”

  “Hmm.”

  I took it mostly based on facial expression, the downward curvature of his mouth, that my response didn’t impress him.

  “We need a little more than this, Pending,” Zachery said. “Maybe there’s another explanation. What if he thought Bingham had his brother? He snoops into the guy’s house when he’s helping a farmer and finds this.”

  “Still doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t report it.”

  “Earl was a submissive person. Bingham would have easily overpowered him mentally.”

  “So, you’re suggesting that he found out Bingham killed his brother and was okay with it?” Paige straightened out, crossed her arms. “I’m not buying it.”

  I got involved in the debate. “The guy isn’t exactly an innocent. He shot at us. He risked not only my life but his neighbor’s. Heck, he pulled a gun on you—,” I gestured to Zachery, “—or have you forgotten already?”

  “Cool it. All of you. None of this is getting us anywhere.” Jack’s words reprimanded us.

  “No there’s more than just this. He was watching Bingham.” Paige glared at Zachery, and based on the intensity, I couldn’t help but think better him than me. She moved back, placing a hand on the mouse again, and clicked on another photo. “Bingham outside his house. See the fields, I recognize those.”

  “You recognize fields out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Enough you two,” Jack said. “Focus on the case.”

  “The corner of the building matches the board exterior of Bingham’s house, as well,” Paige defended herself. “But there’s all sorts of these pictures.” She kept clicking, and images showcased on the screen. “In all of these, Bingham didn’t have any idea the photos were taken. But, this one…” she straightened up. “In this one, well it’s obvious he did.”

  The two men were in front of Lakeview Community Church. Bingham was taller than Earl by about four inches, and had his arm around Earl’s shoulders. Both men were smiling.

  “They look like the best of friends. How can you be friends with the man you suspect of killing your brother?” I said. “Maybe he just got too close. Bingham started having control over him?”

  Zachery headed for the door. “I’ll be back in just a second.”

  “I know that look anywhere. He believes he’s on to something,” Paige said.

  The image remained on the screen—the smiling faces, the presence of the church. The portrayal cast a drastic contrast between life and death, righteousness and evil.

  “Okay, so I’m Earl. I found the burial sites years ago yet I don’t say anything to the Sheriff. Why?” I attempted to run through the scenario aloud.

  “Because he became involved.” Paige’s eyes lit, and she tapped her head as if to say, duh.

  I cocked my head to the side. “It just seems like we’re making a lot of excuses for him. Bingham held power over him; Bingham made him do it even if that meant his silence. I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t have reported it. We’re talking about his brother.”

  “Maybe he stayed close because he wanted to take care of Bingham in his own way,” Paige offered.

  “Or he knew there was something a lot larger going on.”

  Both of us looked at
Jack who had said that.

  I picked up on his thought, “What if all his snooping brought him to that discovery? I mean he obviously found an empty grave.” I gestured to the monitor referencing back to the photo we had seen there. “But he could have been so close with Bingham by that point, he never even realized he was being brainwashed to keep quiet.”

  “Brainwashed? Huh, Kid, that’s the best you got?”

  “You know what I mean. Bingham exerted an influence.”

  “Okay, how and why?”

  “Narcissists only accompany themselves with those who empower them, and make them feel a sense of elevated importance.” They both kept watching me. “Bingham benefited from the relationship. Earl allowed himself to be manipulated until he could get a handle on what he discovered.”

  “So before he knew it, he was Bingham’s apprentice,” Jack said.

  “Let’s just rephrase the entire thing. Bingham has named himself The Redeemer; let’s officially call his apprentice, The Follower.”

  “You distanced your phrase from Royster, why?”

  My eyes went back to the screen. “Because I don’t think he is The Follower.”

  “He shot at you, at all of us. Why then?”

  It didn’t take any time for me to calculate the answer. I was staring at it. “He knew we were going to find all this and his life would be over anyway. It’s pretty clear to conclude he knew what was going on, but was he actually involved? We’ll have to prove that.”

  “Hmm.”

  Something told me Jack was impressed this time.

  Zachery sprung around the doorframe holding a picture frame. “I thought I remembered seeing Royster smiling in another photograph. Paige, bring up that one of him with Bingham again.”

  “It’s still up.”

  Zachery shoved in between Jack and me, and held the photo out towards the screen. “Just as I thought. Compare the two pictures, focus on Royster’s smile.”

  The framed photo was of Royster with a man who had similar features. This must have been his brother. Both men held up a beer to the cameraman who took it at the perfect moment. Each of them had sharp eyes, and bright smiles. By comparison to the one with Bingham, it was simple to see the difference.