by Paul Seiple
“Where is his sister?” Reid asked.
“Cleveland. And get this, her husband is a reverend.”
Twenty-One
Cleveland, Ohio
“You never left the past behind, did you, Sidney?”
Sidney Barrett rocked the chair against the floor with such force. She tried to splinter the wooden legs. Her hands were tied behind her back with an extension cord. Her ankles were free, allowing her to swing her legs at Norman. But there wasn’t much punch behind her kicks. She exhausted too much energy trying to snap the legs of the chairs with the swaying.
“Father left you all that money and yet you live in the same house you were raised in by your foster family. Did you give all that money to the husband’s scam of a church?”
“Jackson?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch,” Norman said.
“I...I thought you were dead.”
“Jackson is dead, my dear sister. He died long before the accident. He died when I watched our father's brain paint the wall. Did that not bother you? Or are you a whore just like mother?”
“Do not talk to her that way,” Theo Barrett said, maneuvering the makeshift gag, with his mouth .
“Silence the false prophet,” Norman said. “I don’t want to hear his voice again.”
Sanford pulled the handkerchief, splitting Theo’s lips with the cloth napkin. Theo let out a muffled moan.
“Oh, do that again,” Hella said. “Something sexy about a man of God moaning. Don’t cha think, Sid? Do you make him moan?” Hella dropped to her knees and crawled to Theo who was tied to another wooden chair. She placed her hands on his knees and looked at Sidney. “I bet I can make him moan. I bet this mouth can make him renounce his Lord.” She opened her mouth and circled her bright red lips with her fingertips.
“That’s enough,” Norman said.
Sidney sniffled and fought back tears. “Why are you doing this, Jackson?”
“Why am I doing this?” Norman pulled up a chair and sat next to Sidney. “Haven’t you ever heard that the child pays for the sins of the father?”
“I was just a little child, Jackson. I hated that mother cheated on father just as much as you did. I hated that we were separated.”
“Hated it so much, that you remained in the home you were raised in afterwards?”
“Through the Lord, I learned to forgive,” Sidney said.
“That’s funny, through the Lord; our mother learned that the closest way to get to God was bedding the pastor.”
“I’m not her, Jackson.”
“Of course you aren’t. You’re not even of her blood.”
Fear left Sidney’s voice. “What do you mean by that?”
“The child pays for the sins of the father. I wasn’t referring to you, dear sister. Do you
think father was innocent?”
Sidney didn’t answer.
“You’re the reason mother cheated. She put up a good front, but every day when she
looked at you she hated father more and more. You’re the product of one of father’s many affairs. Your bloodline is some cheap whore.”
“You’re lying.” Sidney’s tone became defiant.
Norman let out a brief spurt of laughter. “The truth is stranger than fiction, dear sister. But what I am telling you is the gospel. I heard it straight from mother’s mouth,” Norman paused. “just before I slit her throat.”
“And I thought my childhood was screwed up,” Hella said, running her fingers through Theo Barrett’s hair. She rubbed her breasts against his arm.
Norman stood up and threw his arms in the air. “I am left to pay the debt of my father’s transgressions.” He leaned into his sister. “Seeing father paint the walls with his brain didn’t traumatize me. When the gun went off it shined a light on the eyes of all the evils that hide in the shadows of this world. I was born to lead them to the light. To make the world bow to my power.”
“You’re crazy,” Sidney said, a single tear ran down her cheek. “My husband has nothing to do with this. Let him go.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Sidney. Your husband is a snake oil salesman. He preaches from a book, as if it were gospel, when we all know it’s the greatest work of fiction ever written. Theo is a deceiver.” Norman looked at Theo. “Correct if I’m wrong here.” Norman quoted 2 John 1:7. ‘For many deceivers have gone out into the world, those who do not confess the coming of Jesus Christ in the flesh. Such a one is the deceiver and the antichrist.’ He turned his attention back to Sidney. “Your husband preaches of flesh materializing on a fictional character and if you don’t follow this sheep mentality you’re labeled the antichrist. I’m here to tell you there is no Heaven. Just Hell on Earth and I’m the one that brings forth judgment.”
Hella’s clapping interrupted Norman. “I’m so horny now. Can I hop on and ride the Holy Roller?”
“For spreading false hope to the blinded masses, I name Theo Barrett a deceiver and sentence him to death.” Norman tilted his head in Sanford’s direction. There was a blur, followed by a sickening crack. Theo slumped over in the chair.
“No,” Sidney screamed.
“No is right,” Hella said. “Now who’s gonna satisfy my aching. Maybe you? You know, I like girls too.”
Hella started toward Sidney. Norman put his forearm in her chest stopping her in mid-stride. “Wait.” He handed her another extension cord.
“What, Jackson? You’re not going to do it yourself? Are you a coward? Don’t turn your back on me.” Sidney quoted from Revelations. ‘As for the cowardly, the detestable, as for the murderers, the sexually immoral, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.’”
Norman faced his sister and smiled. “This saddens me. We could have been so good together.” He handed the extension cord to Hella. “I’ll be waiting in the car, don’t be too long.”
Twenty-Two
Saint Louis, Missouri
“I’ll take Tanner. You and Mack head to Statesville.”
Those words replayed in my mind, like a broken record, as I waited for Mack to return from the lab. Reid thought it would be best if we split up. Mack and I would try to dig up anything we could on Richard Lick. While Reid and Jill would fly to Cleveland to talk to Sidney Barrett, Norman’s sister. Reid didn’t think much would come from digging into Patty Cline's past. She was just a pawn. A sacrifice to advance Norman’s position. I didn’t mind pairing up with Mack, he seemed to be a likeable enough guy and with the stories he could tell, his mind was worth picking, but Reid pairing with Jill was a recipe for a bad call. He confided in me that things were not great with Barbara. She accused him of wasting his life, chasing a past that he couldn’t change, and cheating on her with the hope of retribution. It was obvious that Jill was star stricken with Reid. And while I knew he loved Barbara, the male ego sometimes makes poor decisions when the mind isn’t on its game.
I stopped Reid as he walked by to get another cup of coffee before leaving. I bumped into him and whispered, “You really think this is a good idea?”
“Are you questioning my thirty-five years of experience?”
There was a hint of sarcasm in Reid’s voice, but part of me felt it to be passive-aggressive. “Not at all. These are the biggest leads we’ve ever had. It’s just that,” I paused to make sure I had the words right. “It’s just that...do you...do you think going with her is a good idea? She has a crush on you. I doubt that she can be professional, if you know what I mean.”
“What I know is that I love my wife, and I am professional. You do not need to worry about that. You need to find out Norman’s connection to this Lick guy.”
Reid grabbed his cup of coffee and turned to walk away. Before leaving, he stopped, and came back to me. “I’m taking Tanner because I think Sidney Barrett will feel more comfortable with a woman present. We have no idea if she knows Norman is her brother. If she doesn’t, it will be the biggest shock of her l
ife when I tell her that her brother didn’t die years ago. He just reinvented himself as the smartest serial killer I’ve ever encountered.”
I felt stupid for questioning Reid’s intentions. “Makes sense,” was all I could muster.
“I know what I’m doing, kid,” Reid said, smiling before taking a sip of coffee.
“You’re still drinking that crap,” Mack said, passing by him, with a briefcase in his right hand.
Reid tipped the cup in Mack’s direction. “What doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger.”
The commercial flight was a welcomed change. Chatter from every direction kept my mind from getting lost in the one-hundred and one ways to survive a plane crash. A kid in front of me was reading the latest comics and his brother held his Walkman tight while reading the liner notes to the latest Poison cassette. To my right, Mack opened his briefcase. He pulled out Richard Lick’s rap sheet.
“So James Callahan was your father. I mean your…”
“Yeah, James was my father.”
“Great man,” Mack said, opening a can of Sprite. “I had the pleasure of working with him once.”
“You knew my father?”
“It was my second year with the Bluefield CSU. Worst case you could imagine. Three teenage boys vanished from playgrounds only to end up stuffed in plastic drums floating in the Bluestone River. Suspect in the case had ties to Winston Salem. Your father bent over backwards to help me nab the sociopath that killed those boys.”
“I vaguely remember that. Wasn’t the guy called the Teenage Reaper or something like that?”
“Timothy Solomon. He died in jail before I had the pleasure of watching two-thousand volts stop his heart. Anyway, James Callahan fought the good fight. How about you? You follow in Dad’s footsteps?”
“I was Homicide for a while. Gave it up after finding out about Norman. I wanted to fight the good fight, but I realized that stopping one bad guy only opened the door for two more to take his place. It's a fight I couldn't win.”
Mack took a swallow of soda as turbulence rocked the plane causing a little to dribble into his beard. “Sounds like you’re running away to me.” He wiped his facial hair with his hand.
Deep down, I knew that by quitting the force I was running away. Hoping to shield my new family from the bad in this world by living in a cocoon. If I turned a blind eye to it, maybe it wouldn’t see me either. Having someone else tell me that I was running away made me feel more like a coward.
“I was, but you know what, I’m done running. How about you? What’s with this love for bugs?”
“I grew up in a science family. My parents worked at the CDC studying the methodology of infectious diseases and their vectors.”
“Must be pretty hard to profile a mosquito,” I said.
Mack smiled. “Not really, you only have to worry about the females.” He handed me Lick’s rap sheet. It was pretty boring outside of the pool cue incident. A few DUIs , a couple of shoplifting charges, and a trespassing conviction.
“See anything weird with that?”
“Besides getting picked up for shoplifting Rick James albums,” I said.
Mack chuckled. “Yeah. Look at the crimes, nothing violent until the bar fight. Even the DUI reports describe him as being courteous. Courteous? You rarely see a drunk getting popped for drunk driving that isn’t belligerent in some sense.”
“And with a name like Dick Lick, you know the guy got teased.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. Lick is listed at six-foot-seven and weighs three-forty. You’re tall, you ever get picked on?”
“Not really. But my dad was the chief of police, ya know.”
“Every indication is that, except for a few poor decisions, Lick was a gentle giant until the bar fight. I’m willing to bet that’s about the time he met Wallace.”
“Do you really think he has some sort of magical influence on people?” I asked.
“Jim Jones convinced over nine hundred people to drink the Kool-Aid. Anything is possible.”
Twenty-Three
Cleveland, Ohio
“Sorry for falling asleep on the plane,” Reid said, driving the rental car away from the airport. “Sleep is a luxury for me these days. I never turn it down when it finally decides to show up.”
“No problem,” Jill said. “Mind if I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Why this case? I mean, I’ve followed your career and you never seem to get personally involved.”
“Why did you choose to be a cop, Tanner?” Reid asked, ignoring her question.
Jill fidgeted, unsure if she had overstepped boundaries with her question. “My father was murdered when I was a kid. Committing to a life of protecting the innocent is my way of honoring him.”
“I’ve spent years digging into Norman Wallace. Many years. Long before you were born. And in less than a day, you find more than I found in twenty years. That’s damn impressive, Tanner. You’ll make one hell of a detective.”
Jill smiled. She felt her cheeks warm. Blushing was embarrassing and damn near impossible to conceal with her pale complexion. “Thanks, but the Harold Frederick connection was the break. Why have I never heard of Wallace? I consider myself to be up on the latest serial killers,” she paused and smiled again. “But I’ve never heard of this guy.”
“To the world, Norman Wallace died thirty years ago. Took his own life in a cowardly act after it was discovered that he murdered several women. Wallace isn’t as flashy as the Zodiac. Isn’t as openly crazy as Manson. Wallace is a different breed of killer. He has mastered the art of becoming a ghost. But more importantly, he's learned to control the urges.You could see him in the grocery store and you would never guess that he was the most dangerous man in the world. The public is under the impression that ghosts cannot harm the living. Wallace is proving them wrong and they don’t even realize it.”
“But he has caught your eye.”
“Wallace has done more than catch my eye. He’s destroyed my life. One of the women he murdered was my mother.”
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” Jill said.
Reid turned the car onto Hyacinth. A block and a half away from Sidney Barrett's house, a line of news vans mimicked rush hour traffic. In the distance, flashing red and blue lights ricocheted off of the white vans and onto the asphalt. Reid’s Motorola DynaTAC, one of the first cellular phones with a hefty four-thousand dollar price tag, rang.
“Get that for me,” Reid said.
Jill picked up the phone, flipping it around, trying to figure out how to answer it, as it continued to ring.
“Hit the orange send button,” Reid said.
“Reid Hoffman’s phone,” Jill said, bringing the brick to her ear.
“Who is this? I need to speak to Reid.”
“He’s driving.”
“Give him the phone.”
“He’s driving I said.”
“Yemana, it’s OK, talk to her,” Reid said loud enough for the person on the other end to hear.
“How do you know who it is?” Jill asked. “Is this your bat phone?”
“Tell Reid that there’s been a homicide at the Barrett residence.” Yemana's voice cut in and out.
“What?” Jill asked.
“We’re too late,” Reid said as the yellow tape came into view.
He parked the car on the opposite side of the road from the gaggle of reporters and took the phone from Jill. “What do you know?”
“Call came in not an hour ago. Theo Barrett didn’t show up for a prayer meeting. Two church members went to the house to find the back door torn from the hinges and two deceased inside. One male, one female. I’m assuming it’s Theo and Sidney Barrett,” Yemana said.
A tap on the driver-side window brought an abrupt silence to the conversation. Reid turned to see a skinny cop mouthing something through the glass. Reid rolled the window down.
“You can’t park here. You’ll have to park on Hyacinth with the rest of the m
edia vehicles.”
“We’re not media,” Jill said.
Reid pulled his badge from the inside pocket of his corduroy blazer. He handed it to the officer.
“FBI? You guys have bat sense or something?”
“I’m starting to wonder that myself,” Jill said.
“Come on, I’ll get you in. I’m Officer Jacobs.”
Reid stuck out his hand to shake. “Reid Hoffman. This is Jill Tanner. What’s it look like in there?”
“I’ve seen worse. I’d say it’s not random. Looks personal. The male had his neck broken. Female was strangled with a drop cord.”
The three stepped onto the front porch. Before they could enter the house a man about six-feet-two with a stocky build walked through the door and blocked their path. He was wearing a Cleveland Indians baseball cap.
“Captain, this is Special Agent Re…”
“I know who this is,” Captain Wells said.
Reid extended his hand to shake. Captain Wells brushed it away. “Agent, I am a reasonable man. I have no idea why you’re here. This case just hit the news. I’m taking it that you weren’t just in the neighborhood. But I’m willing to open up my investigation to you as long as you’re up front with me and don’t try to turn this into a movie of the week.”
“Fair enough,” Reid said. “Two priests were murdered in Saint Louis. I have reason to believe there is a connection to this crime scene. If you’ll allow me to go inside I can fill you in on what I know later. Besides you probably don’t want the media snapping shots of us out here.”
Captain Wells stepped to the side and motioned Reid to pass. Jill followed close behind. The backdoor lay on the kitchen floor, splintered from the frame. The screen door held on only by a center hinge.
“I’d hate to meet the man, and I use that term loosely, that did this,” a chunky man said, tucking a clipboard under his arm and pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. He wore a navy windbreaker that had the words Medical Examiner written, in yellow, across the back.
