Mrs. Peterson handed him a key. “Please check on my dogs. They’re in the backyard.”
Pat was so infuriated that he was blowing spit out of his mouth as he yelled, “Make sure that bastard didn’t take any of my stuff. He’s going to pay for what he did!”
Jim nodded. “Yes, sir. I need to get over there.”
“He made me eat shit, now he’s been fucking with my possessions!”
Jim was now standing by the door. “I understand that. I’m heading over there now.”
Pat raised his fist and shook it. “He ruined the sanctity of my home!”
Jim walked out the door as Pat yelled out, “Get that fucker! He deserves the electric chair!”
There were two cops standing guard outside Pat’s room. Jim handed one of the officers a piece of paper with the Peterson’s address. “I need a team at this address ASAP. Have them meet me there.” Jim nodded to Ron and Thomas to follow him as he walked down the hallway. When they got in their car, Ron looked at Jim with a disturbed look. “Skull is here in Atlanta?”
Jim didn’t even respond as he drove out of the parking lot. He was embarrassed—Seth had told him that he was at the Peterson’s house. Twenty minutes later, Jim and his team and several local officers stormed the house. When it was clear, Jim made a call to Mrs. Peterson to let her know that her dogs were fine, but their safe had been broken into. Jim could hear Pat yelling in the background. Jim hung up the phone. He looked at Ron. “We’ll let the local jurisdiction handle this. Let’s go over to Pat’s rental property.”
Jim and his team met with local officers at Pat’s building. They took him into the basement and showed him where Pat had been tied in the tub. When they got back outside, Jim noticed some cameras mounted on the adjacent building. He asked one of the officers to check the recordings and get back with him. It was around 5 PM and they had been going all day. Jim decided to go to their hotel. While Ron and Thomas took naps, Jim made a call to the sheriff’s department in Dubois, Idaho regarding the deceased man at the morgue. He emailed them a description of the man including a picture. A few hours later he received a fax. They had identified him as Rick Warren. He was a local troublemaker who had come up missing six months ago.
Later that evening Jim and Ron decided to leave Atlanta and fly to Dubois to check out their lead. Thomas was mad as they drove to an airport. “This sucks. We could have taken a flight in the morning.”
Ron looked back at him. “We need to find out what connection this person had with Skull. It might give us another lead.”
“We could have done that tomorrow. I haven’t gotten much sleep.”
“Lucky for us we can sleep on the plane while we’re traveling. Skull doesn’t fly, so that gives us an edge.”
Jim spoke up. “It helps us stay on his heels. He has to sleep and that slows him down.”
Thomas shook his head. “That’s just great. I can’t sleep on planes.”
Ron turned around and faced forward. “Then you can get your beauty rest in the car after we’re there.”
A few miles from the airport Jim’s phone rang with a number he didn’t recognize. The caller ID read, Your best buddy. Jim answered. “Agent Thompson.”
“What are you up to, pal?”
Jim gritted his teeth when he recognized Seth’s voice. “In Richmond, hanging around the office.” Jim was lying. He didn’t want Seth to know he was still in Atlanta, and he sure in the hell wasn’t going to acknowledge the painting, or ask how Seth got a hold of his phone and added the contact information.
“You should be out catching criminals. That’s what my tax dollars are for.”
“Since you’re so interested in what I’m doing, then I want to know what you’re doing.”
“Having a meal with my buddy Wyatt at this really cool diner.”
“Where at?”
“Sorry, Jim. By the time you get here from Richmond, Virginia we’ll be done. If you were closer, let’s say, like in Georgia, I would have told you.”
Jim wanted to throw his phone. “Just more of your double talk.”
“I’m telling you the truth. If you were closer I would tell you.”
“Alright, gosh dammit! I’m in Atlanta.”
“Wes’ Burger Shack off Highway 82, just west of El Dorado in Arkansas. And you better hurry—they close in about an hour.” Seth hung up the phone.
Jim was pulling into the airport. Ron had already made arrangements to take a Cessna Citation X to El Dorado, and then change over to a helicopter. The men quickly got on board, and within minutes the aircraft was in the air. Jim was smiling as he looked at Ron. “The bastard didn’t expect that we were minutes from an airport when he called. We’ll be there in no time in this thing. Even if we don’t catch him there, we will be on his ass from the air.”
Thomas spoke up. “How do you know he was telling you the truth?”
Jim didn’t want to mention the Peterson’s house. “Skull might be a very sadistic killer, but he values the truth.”
Thomas noticed the jet was moving fast. “How fast are we going?”
Ron had a lot of knowledge about planes. “Over seven hundred miles per hour. It’s powered by two Rolls Royce turbofan engines. This is one of the fastest private jets on the market.”
Thomas smiled. “That’s fast.”
“Sure is. One mile for every six seconds. We’ll be up Mr. Death’s ass before he knew what hit him.”
Thomas laughed. “This is why I joined the FBI. I will never get to own a toy like this, but borrowing one is just as fun.”
Ron looked at Jim. “Do you want to call in the local police before we get there?”
“No. I don’t want to scare him off.”
“They can at least set up traffic checkpoints.”
“I don’t want to cause a media circus. Shutting down the highway will draw too much attention.” He thought for a moment. “I know, contact the sheriff’s department and have them do simple checks on all the rural roads. That way we can concentrate on the major highways from the air if we don’t catch him at the diner.”
“Do you want to keep it priority one hundred?”
“Yes.”
Ron pulled out his phone and made a call. Thomas looked at Jim. “What is a priority one hundred?”
“It’s a code name for keeping Skull’s bullshit under wraps. The less the public knows about what’s going on the better.”
“Shouldn’t they know? Their lives could be in danger.”
Jim shook his head. “One thing I have learned about Skull is he’s very specific about his victims. Law abiding people don’t have anything to worry about.”
“What about your partner? He was law abiding.”
Jim pointed to a seat at the front of the plane. “Park it over there.”
Thomas stood up. “I, uh…”
“Go before I have you sit in the cargo bay.”
Ron hung up the phone. “Done. They’re sending out deputies to set up check points.” He leaned over towards Jim. “I couldn’t help overhearing Thomas’ comment about John. Don’t let him get under your skin.”
“I know, I know. But he’s right about John. He was a decent man. He didn’t fit into Skull’s MO. I’ve been trying to figure out what caused him to do that to John.”
Jim and Ron sat quietly for the duration of the flight as Thomas stared out the window pouting.
Forty minutes later the pilot came over the intercom. “ETA, five minutes.”
Jim looked at Ron. “Is the helicopter ready?”
“Yes.”
When the jet landed, the men quickly went over to a helicopter. Within fifteen minutes they were landing in a field behind the diner. Several local officers were pulling into the field in unmarked vehicles at the same time. Jim and his team joined the officers, then entered the diner. There were only three people sitting in booths. Jim yelled out for Ron to check the restroom, and for another officer to check the kitchen area. Jim walked up to an older, heavyset wa
itress and showed her a picture of Mr. Carter. “Did this man come in here with another man about an hour and half ago?”
“Sure did.”
“What time did they leave?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
“Which way did they go?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“What were they driving?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“What did the other man look like?”
“Hispanic, or maybe Indian.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Tall, dark skinned. Had long black hair and a goatee. Kind of rough looking, but in a good way.”
“Will you be willing to sit down with a sketch artist?”
“No need for that.” She pulled out her phone and showed Jim a picture of Seth and Wyatt sitting in a booth, posing. Wyatt was smiling; Seth was giving a thumbs up.
Jim motioned for one of the officers to come over. “Get the picture from her phone.”
She put her phone down her bra. “You got a warrant?”
Jim looked stunned. “Ma’am, I don’t need a warrant.”
“Hell if you don’t. When you get it, I might or might not have the picture.”
Jim shook his head as he looked at the officer. “Work on this after we’re gone.”
Ron came walking in from outside. “Hey, Jim. No one saw what direction they went or what they were driving.”
“Let’s get moving. They left about twenty-five minutes ago.”
Jim was walking to the door when the waitress yelled at him. “Sir, are you going to take care of this?” She held up a piece of paper.
Jim held his hands out, palms up. “Take care of what?”
“Their bill.”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “Whose bill? What are you talking about?”
“You’re Jim Thompson, right?”
Jim nodded sarcastically. “Yeah.”
“JD said you were going to pick up their bill when you arrived.”
Jim looked at Ron. “You believe this shit!” He turned back to the waitress. “Ma’am, you got to be kidding me. I’m here to arrest him.”
She gave him a stern look. “I don’t care if you’re here to do the Cha Cha to the jukebox with your buddy Ron. You owe nineteen dollars and twenty-three cents.”
Jim looked back at Ron.
He shook his head. “I have no words.”
Jim looked back at the woman. “The man is a fugitive. Why do you expect me to pay for his meal?”
She put her hand on her hip. “He told me you were a tightwad. And I don’t know why you’re after him; he’s a nice man. They both were.”
She started to walk away, but Jim pulled out his wallet. “Stop! Here.” He handed her a twenty. “Keep the change.”
She looked at the money. “Big tipper there, bud, but JD already gave me a couple of tips.”
Thomas was standing off to the side shaking his head. He spoke before he thought. “How much?”
She pointed to Jim. “That he’s an asshole.” She then looked at Ron. “He’s his shadow.” Then she looked back at Thomas. “And you’re a wannabe asshole.”
Thomas got upset. “What?”
She gave him a go-to-hell look. “You asked about the tips. That’s what he gave me; tips about y’all.” She looked at her finger. “And this gold ring. What a nice man.”
Jim shook his head. He knew the ring probably came from Pat’s safe. “That’s nice, but he’s still a fugitive.”
She looked back at him and Ron. “He told me how you two have been harassing him. You cops need to leave people alone.”
Thomas was mad. He let his anger get to him. “You know you’re talking about The Angel of Death.”
Jim’s eyes got real big. He glared at Thomas. “Shut up, boy! You’re way out of line.”
She laughed. “I don’t care if he is The Angel of Death or Santa Claus. He’s cleaning up our streets. That’s more than I can say about y’all.”
The cook came out from the kitchen. “Yelda, leave the cops alone. I told you that you can’t get all riled up like this.”
She shook her head as she walked away. Jim looked at Thomas and Ron and motioned for them to go with him. They went straight to the helicopter. When they got on board, Jim told the pilot to head west above Highway 82. They all watched out the windows, staring down on the traffic below as they flew down the highway. Thomas had been sitting quietly, but finally got the courage to speak. “What are we looking for? He could be driving any one of those vehicles.”
Jim looked at him and sternly said, “You’ve lost your speaking privileges. Not another peep.”
Thomas looked back out the window.
Ron leaned towards Jim. “He’s right.”
“Just look for anything out of the ordinary.”
“You know that’s not his MO. Skull isn’t stupid enough to cause a scene when we’re on his tail.”
“You never know. He could get into an altercation—he has a thing against rude drivers.”
Ron looked aggravated. “What do you make of that waitress? Skull is like a rock star to some of these people.”
Jim was still aggravated about the whole situation. “I don’t want to talk about it.” About that time, Ron’s phone received an email. He looked at it and noticed it was from Atlanta PD. They sent him a picture. It was a still shot taken from a camera next to Pat’s rental property. He handed his phone to Jim without saying a word. Jim looked at a picture of Seth and Wyatt as they were driving by in a car. Seth was holding a gun to Wyatt’s head with one hand, while his other hand was making fingered rabbit ears above Wyatt’s head. He handed the phone back to Ron. “I give up. Get the pilot to take us back to the airport. We’re going to a hotel to regroup and call it a night.”
Ron looked shocked. “What about Idaho?”
“Fuck it! It’ll still be there tomorrow, or the day after.”
Ron sat back in his seat. He had never seen Jim lose his cool before and back down.
Fucking Psychos are People Too
Wyatt was watching a helicopter. “There’s another one. Think they’re still looking for us?”
“It’s flying diagonally to the highway. It’s not related.”
“It’s risky driving this vehicle. The guy you took it from could have called the cops.”
“Look around. How many black vehicles are on the highway?”
“Yeah, but this one has Georgia license plates.”
“No, it doesn’t. It has Texas plates.”
Wyatt looked confused. “I thought it did.”
“I changed them.”
“When?”
“Back at the diner when you went in to take a shit and I stayed back at the car.”
“Oh, yeah.” He noticed they were entering Louisiana. “Where’re we going?”
“Shreveport.”
“Why?”
“To get some rest.”
“Do you think that is wise after the shit you pulled back at the diner? You know Jim will keep looking for us.”
“I have a friend that we’re going to stay with. The car will be parked out of sight.”
“Are we just gonna show up out of the blue?”
“I sent her a text earlier.”
“Her? Who is she?”
“A friend.”
“How does she know you?”
“I’ve been seeing her for a while.”
Wyatt looked surprised. “That’s interesting.”
“Why is that?”
“No reason really. Just hard to imagine you having a social life, I suppose.”
“That hurts my feelings; fucking psychos are people too, you know.”
Wyatt blew off Seth’s humor. “Does she know what you do?”
“Of course.”
“I know better than that. You fooled me the last time when I asked if your friends knew.”
“Then if you knew the answer, why ask?
”
“I’m curious about something.”
“Nine inches.”
“You wish. And that’s not it.”
“Yes, I like women.”
“I wouldn’t have figured that considering how you are always gluing, burning or cutting off someone’s dick.”
Seth laughed. “You got me with that one.” He looked at Wyatt. “So, what are you curious about?”
“What would you do if a cop pulls us over?”
“I would get my oxygen tank from the backseat and put on the oxygen mask.”
Wyatt looked at the tank in the backseat, then at Seth with confusion. “I asked what would you do if a cop pulls us over. What does the tank have to do with it?”
“I told you what I would do. That’s why I carry it. It’s been modified for just that situation. The top half is filled with air and the bottom with a gas that will knock someone unconscious, released though a hidden switch. If a cop walks up to my window, he will be breathing the gas, but I’m not affected because I am breathing the air from the top portion of the tank. He passes out; we’re heading down the road.”
“That’s ingenious, but what about me, Einstein?”
“What about you?”
“I would be breathing the gas as well.”
“You’re not driving… And you said you needed some sleep.”
Wyatt looked bothered. “You could have brought one for me, just in case.”
“Don’t you think that would look a little suspicious if we were both in need of oxygen?”
Wyatt shrugged his shoulders. “I guess you’re right. What type of gas is it anyway?”
“An opioid.”
“A what?”
“It’s a synthetic narcotic, similar to opium. The one I’m using is an aerosol version of Carfentanil.”
“What’s it for?”
“It’s used as a general anesthetic for large animals, such as elephants.”
“Is it safe for humans?”
“Not really.”
Concern overcame Wyatt. “Could it kill someone?”
Seth looked over at him. “Hell yeah, if they breathe too much of it. It’s one of the most potent opioids known. It’s ten thousand times stronger than morphine.”
Wyatt held his hands out, palms up. “You’re going to use that shit in here if we get pulled over?”
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 72
