Deadly Shadow

by Kim Cresswell

  The noose was tightening around him, squeezing, suffocating him, and it didn’t feel good. It wasn’t over yet, though. Jeremy knew what needed to be done.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Derrick clipped the identification card to his shirt pocket as The Secret Service vehicle passed through Gate 3, on the west side of the army base near Annapolis and Reece Roads, an area reserved for Department of Defense identification holders.

  Derrick looked at his father. “I haven’t been back here in about seven years.”

  They drove past the sprawling glass and steel building that housed the National Security Agency, as well as the U.S. Cyber Command, a centralized command center for cyberspace operations. It was used to defend the information security environment, beefing up the DoD’s cyber expertise to withstand, and respond to, a cyber-attack.

  His father nodded, staring forward. “A lot has changed since then.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Mainly the explosion of high-end residential properties outside of Fort Meade. Urbanization at its finest. And of course, the centralization of services—the DAAF.”

  Derrick remembered reading a few years back that The Defense Adjudication Activities Facility was now home to all the adjudicative offices of the DoD, including personnel security investigations regarding eligibility to occupy and access national security and classified information.

  “Budget cuts, son. Slice and consolidate is the name of the game between the power players.”

  “Are Evelyn Cobb and Colonel Collier still running the Elara Project?”

  A low-flying plane’s engines rumbled and whined, preparing to land at Tipton Airport, south of Fort Meade.

  His father nodded. “Both have always been huge supporters of the project, as you know. The president wouldn’t have it any other way. He trusts them to keep the project always moving forward and under the radar.”

  As they drove through the sprawling base, Derrick spotted the movie theater where he’d hung out at least twice a week while perfecting his paranormal skills. He remembered the first movie he’d watched: “Reservoir Dogs”.

  After their driver parked behind the Department of Defense Consolidated Adjudications Facility, the DoD CAF as it was known, Derrick and his father got out of the vehicle and walked to the back door of the three-floor white building with red brick and towering white pillars. The structure looked exactly as Derrick remembered it. A harsh north wind blew and spit snow in his face.

  Derrick turned his face out of the wind. “Any idea what type of special skill this new recruit has? The president sounded excited.”

  His father grinned. “This one you’ll have to see to believe.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Inside the 151,000-square-foot facility, two hulking male soldiers carrying M16A4s and dressed in two-tone brown fatigues, stood like statues on either side of the private elevator that lead to the basement where the Elara Project was located. After one of the soldiers checked their IDs, Derrick and Roland entered the elevator. Roland pressed the button for B1. The doors quietly slid closed.

  To outsiders and employees of the ten agencies lodged within the facility, the basement contained another arm of the DoD’s consolidated services. No one was the wiser.

  Moments later, the elevator dinged, and the doors spread open. They stepped into the wide, brightly lit corridor. Directly across from them was a metal door marked ‘Authorized Personnel Only’ in big bold red lettering. Roland placed his right thumb on the screen of the keypad lock. The lock buzzed as it scanned his fingerprint, then beeped three times before the screen flashed green. He turned the knob and opened the door. They walked around the corner and stopped in front of another door with a retinal scanner.

  “I see you’ve upgraded security,” Derrick said.

  His father leveled his eyes at the scanner and waited. “Can’t be too careful, considering what’s going on behind door number two.” The lock clicked loudly, then the thick metal door automatically swung open.

  Dr. Evelyn Cobb, the project’s scientist for over twenty years, greeted them in the cozy reception-like area that looked like a living room, complete with couch and a seventy-inch TV mounted on the wall. Derrick remembered spending a lot of his free time in the room with the other recruits.

  Her blue eyes twinkled as she smiled. “Derrick. It’s wonderful to see you.”

  “You too, Evelyn. It’s been a few years.”

  The woman hadn’t aged a day since he’d seen her last. In her mid-fifties, she looked as if she were in her thirties, the way her short brown hair was cut in a pixie style, framing her smooth porcelain skin. She was wearing casual street clothes under a white lab coat.

  She shot a sideways glance at Roland. “You need to bring this guy around more often.”

  “I’ll certainly try.”

  Derrick shrugged off his coat and set it on the L-shaped leather couch. “Where’s the colonel?”

  “Richard is out of town headhunting until next week. He’ll be sorry he missed you.” She blew out a breath. “Well, come on. I have lots to show you.”

  Derrick and his father followed Evelyn into the main area of the project. The space was spotless. It looked like a giant lab with brushed steel, white washed walls, and pristine white flooring. The bank of tall arched windows that once flooded with sunlight had been covered with a dozen glass soundproof chambers. On the other wall housed workstations, computers, monitors, cameras, and scientific equipment.

  Evelyn stopped at the first chamber.

  Derrick peered through the glass at an attractive blonde-haired woman sitting next to a man with brown hair cropped short around his ears. Both were wearing black headphones and had their eyes closed. Every few minutes their eyes would open, then they would feverishly write down information and close their eyes again.

  “We’re still using remote viewers?” Roland asked.

  “For specific assignments. Mia and Adam are our most accomplished recruits, experts in the field of RV. They’ve been able to locate classified documents in Russia, Iran, and North Korea, that contained nuclear program details, as well as data confirming possible terrorist attacks and plots to assassinate President Burke. Everything we do is still monitored closely by Richard and verified on the ground, the same way it was done when Derrick was with us.”

  Derrick moved to the next glass enclosure. Evelyn and his father stood behind him.

  “This is Elisha Murphy. She’s one of ours, a sergeant with the military. She’s been with the Elara project for two months now. Elisha is an omni-linguist. She can understand any form of language. She’ll be used on the ground in various countries.”

  “A pretty handy skill to have,” Roland said.

  They continued to move down the line.

  “Neil Frader manipulates dreams. I’m sure you’ve both heard about a certain female dignitary in Pakistan who recently died of a sudden and unexplained heart attack.”

  “That was Neil’s doing?” Derrick asked.

  Evelyn nodded.

  In the next glass chamber, a thin man was sitting at a table across from another man who appeared to be twice his age.

  “Troy Cruz is the younger one with dark hair. His expertise is ESP. He uses it to interrogate enemies without the use of drugs or torture. He’s already been in the field for the CIA at various black sites around the world.”

  “This group appears older than many of the original recruits twenty years ago,” Derrick said.

  “They are. The median age is twenty-eight. Some of the paranormal skills we’ve used have changed since the Cold War Era, depending on our needs. Some of our recruits are required to be older, like in Troy’s case. We can’t send a sixteen-year-old to a black site and be taken seriously. In your case, Derrick, you don’t need to be in public to be able to use your abilities, so age never mattered.”

  Roland glanced at Evelyn. “Remind me not to piss off any of these recruits.”

  “I think you’re safe.” She winked.
“The Elara Project continues to be the crème de la crème, a free-for-all of super paranormal powers geared to protect the security of the United States. Quality over quantity. The way it should be. The way it has been in the past. We have a nineteen-year-old joining us next week who uses psionic blast.”

  Derrick raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

  Psionic blast wasn’t something he’d thought was real. If it was, overloading a person’s mind could cause extreme pain, memory loss, unconsciousness, and even death. It was a skill not unlike his own, as the talent could be operated remotely, but that’s where the similarity ended.

  “Scientifically, there isn’t an explanation as to how psionic blast works, as far as brain function is concerned. No one thought what you, your father, or grandfather could do was possible either. You’ve proved all the scientific nay-sayers wrong.”

  Derrick nodded. “Good point.”

  Evelyn led them past the remaining empty glass chambers and opened a metal door at the end of the space. Inside the smaller space, a bald-headed muscular man in his twenties, wearing heavy black-framed glasses, was sitting on a couch playing an XBox game.

  “There he is. Meet Nathan Jacenko, our newest recruit. He’s only been here for a week.”

  Nathan set the game controller beside him and stood. “Hi.”

  “This is Derrick, and his father, Roland.”

  Nathan gave them a small smile.

  “They’re here to learn more about your special ability.”

  “It’s different from the others,” he said. “Really different.”

  Derrick noticed a sadness in Nathan’s voice as he spoke. He could tell the kid thought of himself as a freak, just like Derrick had felt long before he’d first joined the Elara Project. But it hadn’t taken Derrick long to relax, and realize he wasn’t the only one who had felt that way.

  “Have you rested enough to give them a short demonstration?” Evelyn asked.

  Nathan nodded again. “Sure.”

  He entered the separate metal chamber, built differently from the rest, with a rectangular glass viewing window. Derrick stepped up to the window and waited. A mannequin and various other items were in the room; a half dozen big red balls and firewood were stacked in the center of the room.

  “Seems like a nice kid,” Roland said to Evelyn.

  “He’s quieter than the others, sticks to himself more than I’d like. It’s an adjustment being here away from family and friends.”

  “Being different isn’t easy. He’ll come around. It’ll take time,” Derrick said, knowing better than anyone.

  Evelyn nodded to Nathan. He turned and stared at the stack of fire wood. Seconds later, each piece of wood caught fire. Then a candle on a small table lit.

  Derrick’s eyes widened. He’d witnessed a lot of things that defied scientific explanation. “Pyrokinesis.”

  “I told you, son, you’d have to see it to believe it.”

  Evelyn’s eyes sparkled with pride and excitement as she watched the young man.

  Derrick stared and concentrated his energy at one of the balls. It lifted slowly off the floor and into the air. Nathan targeted his energy at the ball. It burst into flames.

  “There is no scientific evidence suggesting this phenomenon is real, that the brain can trigger explosions of fire. As you can see, it is very real.”

  “This is why the Elara Project is so important and why if anyone threatens it, they need to be stopped immediately.” Roland said.

  Derrick knew his father’s comment was directed at him, regarding Eddie Bullington and Melissa Mann.

  No one spoke as they continued to observe, mesmerized as Derrick moved the objects inside the room with his mind while Nathan set each of the items on fire, disintegrating them.

  Derrick felt his father’s hand heavy on his shoulder.

  “Looks like you might have some serious competition, son.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Six hours later, Victory and Ryan left the pharmacy. The snow had stopped, and the roads were clear. Victory rested her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. Exhaustion had set in. They had been going non-stop for days and another all-nighter was taking a toll. The hum of the Suburban’s engine was making her sleepier.

  Hundreds of cops and FBI agents in Cincinnati and Cleveland were searching for Jeremy Elder. He wouldn’t be able to hide for long with his face plastered on TV and all over on the internet. The ERT had discovered a dozen boxes of Rohypnol stashed at the pharmacy. It was beginning to make sense. He used his looks to pick up his victims then used the odorless and tasteless date rape drug to kidnap and keep his victims sedated until he killed them. For the first time in almost a decade, Victory felt some satisfaction, knowing they finally knew who The Wrapper was. A pharmacist, of all people. She couldn’t wait to question the man. She was betting Jeremy Elder loved to talk about himself a lot. Serial murderers often did.

  “You want a coffee? Ryan asked.

  She half-opened her eyes and yawned. Her head felt thick and foggy from a lack of sleep. “Yes. Caffeine solves everything. We still have to make quick stop at Melissa’s house to solve the next riddle before I crash for a few hours before Jade comes home and the annual festivities begin.”

  “Happy Birthday, Vic. It’s official. You’re old.”

  “Great. Thanks. Your time is coming.”

  “Come on. It’s not that bad. Feel any older?”

  “Just call me Grandma McClane.” Victory yawned again. “Where’s my rocking chair?”

  Ryan laughed. He slowed the Suburban and stopped at the red light. “What are you going to do about Derrick and the flower situation?”

  “According to you, I’m now old which makes me wiser than you. I’ll take care of it. You’ll be the first to know…well the second.” Her eyes closed.

  Ryan floored the vehicle.

  The forward jolt from him accelerating away from the traffic light forced her eyes open. She glared at him for a good fifteen seconds. “You did that on purpose.”

  “Gotta keep you and your old bones awake.” He steered into the coffee shop drive-through.

  At quarter to seven, the small coffee shop wasn’t busy. There was only one car ahead of them.

  “Since it’s a special day, I’ll even buy your coffee.”

  “Nice guy. In that case, I’ll take a chocolate glazed donut too.”

  “You want a candle on it?”

  She shook her head. “Obviously, you’re as tired as I am.”

  After going through the drive-through, Ryan drove out of the parking lot.

  “Where are we heading?”

  “Monticello Avenue.” She took a drink of her coffee, savoring it, needing the hit of caffeine in a big way.

  Ryan turned onto I-75 and drove north.

  “Why do you think Elder killed all those women?”

  Victory fell silent and weighed her partner’s question for a long moment. Someone had made Jeremy Elder angry, furious enough to take it out on eight innocent women in a most sickening and demented way. The baby oil and bubble wrap reminded the killer of someone and something about a park compels him to kill. “Somewhere along the line someone close to him pissed him off. A woman. He’s making a very conscious decision to kill. She’s the real target of his rage. Pure payback.”

  “Hope we find him soon.”

  Through exhaustion and fog, the long days had blended together, and she wasn’t sure what day it was. Then it dawned on her. “The tenth anniversary of his first kill is tomorrow, Ryan.”

  Victory didn’t like that the killer was still out there, and they didn’t know where he was. She ate her donut and stared out the front window. They weren’t any farther along in the case then they were twenty-four hours ago, other than they knew the killer’s name.

  “If we don’t nab him, expect another body to turn up sometime tomorrow. He’s a creature of habit. The anniversary is important to him, means everything to him. He has to ki
ll even if it means he’ll get caught or killed,” Victory said.

  “Just when I thought we were ahead of the game.”

  “It ain’t over till it’s over.”

  “Yoga Berra.”

  “You’re one smart cookie this early.”

  Thirty minutes later, the sun crept above the horizon and Ryan maneuvered the Suburban onto Monticello Avenue.

  Victory straightened in the seat and gazed out the window. “It’s the gray brick ranch halfway up the block on the left.” All she wanted to do was get this part of the day done, go home, take a hot shower and sleep. By the time they reached Melissa’s house, the caffeine and sugar fix had kicked in giving her a shot of energy.

  Victory watched as a dark blue Jaguar F-Pace SUV parked in front of the house. The male driver got out and looked up and down the street as if he was looking for something or someone. Then he walked toward the front door.

  Victory squinted in the glaring sunlight through the windshield. “Wait. Is that?” She squinted again. “Derrick Lynn?”

  “What is he doing here?” Ryan asked, as he wheeled the vehicle in driveway and parked.

  She climbed out of the SUV and shut the door, harder than she normally would.

  Derrick turned. His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. He appeared bewildered.

  “What are you doing here, Mr. Lynn?” Victory asked.

  “Call me, Derrick.” He smiled and put his hands in his coat pockets. “I have an interview with Melissa Mann.”

  “At her house? This early?” Ryan asked, obviously not convinced.

  “She called my office yesterday and said to come by the house this morning to go over everything before she did a feature on Dragon’s Drought next week. She wanted to get the prep work done before going to the station.”

  There was a beat of silence between the three of them before Derrick spoke again, his gaze locking with Victory’s. “It’s nice to see you again.”