by John Locke
“Listen. Twiddling your thumbs all day is hard work. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not.”
“Hilarious. Look, if you want to catch Felix, we can’t do the same things. You’re wasting my talents and resources.”
“I agree. This was a spur-of-the moment decision. I hoped to interview the victims, see if they saw anyone suspicious.”
“Did they?”
“Yes. They saw Felix. And Santa, Elvis, and the Tooth Fairy. They were so drugged up they could barely think.”
“I could’ve told you that before you made the trip.”
“I know. But I wanted to see them for myself, in person. It fuels me.”
I put Lou’s call on speaker. Then ask, “Any news on Felix?”
“If I had anything, I would’ve called you.”
“I believe you. But where would we be if I failed to ask?”
“It’s been less than two days since the fair. You expect him to do something this soon?”
“Yes. This is an angry corporate chemist. Probably lost his job recently, so he’s got free time, fresh supplies, and a whole lot of pent up aggression. If we let him cool off or run out of supplies, he’ll probably quit.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“If he quits, he gets away with it.”
“True. But the world’s a better place.”
Miranda and I exchange frowns. I say, “So he cools off, gets another job, and gets fired again. What then?”
Lou says, “What made you narrow him down to a corporate chemist? Why can’t it be a high school or college professor?”
“Did you see the photos of the kids’ faces?”
“Yes.”
“You think a teacher would do something like that?”
“A crazy one, maybe.”
“This is an angry corporate chemist. He’s been fired recently.”
“Not retired?”
“No. Retirement is something you see coming. Felix is angrier than that. He’s been fired for doing something wrong, or because of the economy. Get your geeks to search that angle.”
“Will do.”
“Keep me posted.”
“I will. By the way, the CFO at Jefferson Memorial said you’re paying the victims’ expenses.”
“After they leave the hospital.”
“That’s a helluva generous offer. But what if Felix does this five or six more times before we catch him?”
“I’ll go broke.”
We hang up and Miranda says, “You know that much about Felix already?”
I frown. “Truth is I know nothing about Felix. I’m just following my gut.”
“You’re certain he purposely targeted kids and moms?”
“I am. Why?”
“Assuming you’re right, you may want to add something to his profile.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s recently divorced, or legally separated. He’s lost his wife and kids to the legal system.”
I look at her and smile. “How about you forget about private practice and come to work for me?”
She laughs. “That’d be a hoot.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
“How so?”
“A hundred grand a year?”
“To work for you? No way!”
“Name your price.”
She laughs again. “I’ll think about it.”
“No you won’t.”
“No, I won’t,” she agrees.
“Will you marry me?”
She smiles. “You’re a nut.”
“I notice you didn’t say no.”
Before she can, I get Lou on the phone again. When he answers I say, “My fiancé and I have been talking.”
“Fiancé? You mean Miranda?”
“Yes. And she gave me a clue.”
“Guess that’s better than clap.”
I pause, and Lou says, “Sorry. That was uncalled for. I thought you were joking.”
“About the clue?”
“About her being your fiancé.”
“I was. But the clue is sound.”
I tell him to have his geeks search for a recently divorced father who either works or recently worked as a chemist.
“This is really good, Donovan,” Lou says, excitedly. “It’s highly searchable.”
“Don’t thank me,” I say. “Thank my fiancé. You’re on speaker.”
“Aw shit,” he says. “I’m really sorry for the remark, Ms. Rodriguez.”
“No harm done,” Miranda says. “But Lou?”
“Yes?”
“If I’m not overstepping my bounds, I think your researchers should also look for any crimes against women and children.”
“A woman or child is attacked every second.”
“I’m talking about groups of women or children. Like a teacher and her entire class. Or a day care. Or a church or camp outing.”
“You okay with this, Donovan?”
“Absolutely. In fact, I like Miranda’s profile better than mine. I still think we’ve got an angry corporate chemist, but maybe he’s not recently fired. Maybe he’s recently divorced or separated.”
“I’ll type it all in and see what spits out.”
“Good man.”
A half hour later Miranda and I enter Sensory Resources and walk down the corridor to my office. I punch in my key code to unlock the door, open it, and see Lou Kelly fucking Rachel’s mom, Sherry Cherry. He’s got her bent over my desk, taking her from behind.
LOU TURNS TOWARD us, his face red from the effort. He gasps, closes his eyes, shakes his head, mortified.
Sherry hasn’t seen us yet, but notices her lover has stopped in mid-thrust.
“Everything okay back there, hon?” she says. “You’re not done, are you?”
I say, “If Felix is in there, you’ve probably subdued him by now. Step away, and we’ll help you drag him out.”
Sherry jumps, causing Lou to slip out of her. He deftly pulls his pants up and says, “I wish I had something clever to say.”
Sherry pushes herself to a standing position and yells, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same, since it’s my office. By the way, I think you owe my desk an apology.”
She looks like one of those “What’s Wrong with this Picture?” photos, standing as she is with her hair and makeup freshly done, wearing diamond-studded earrings and an exquisite matching necklace, a beautiful silk print blouse, but naked from the waist down. She spins around and tries to walk across the room to fetch her skirt from the chair against the far wall, but her panties are bunched around her ankles. Lou, ever the gentleman, drops to a knee and tries to slide them up her legs as she’s doing the penguin walk. His interference causes her to trip. She falls to the floor and cries out, but Lou won’t be denied. He keeps tugging her panties up her legs. When he gets them to her thighs, she slaps his face and hoists them up the rest of the way. Then gets to her feet, puts on her skirt, smoothes it down with her hands, and says, “Who’s the bimbo?”
To Miranda I say, “I’ve told you about my girlfriend, Rachel?”
She says, “Yes, of course. Is this her?”
I laugh. “No, this is Rachel’s mother.”
“You think this is funny?” Sherry says. “We’ll see how funny it is when I tell Rachel you’re fucking this one.”
“My name’s Miranda.”
“I don’t give a shit! You could be Martha fucking Washington, for all I care! What I want to know is what are you doing with my daughter’s boyfriend?”
Miranda looks at me.
I look at Sherry.
“How’ve you been, Sherry? You appear sober.”
“You’re not putting me away, Donovan. You want to make someone miserable? Let Miranda spend some time in that nasty fuck hole.”
Miranda says, “No thanks. I saw the view from both angles just now, and it’s not working for me.”
I say, “Sherry’s talking about the undergro
und bunker at Mount Weather. That’s where Rachel’s eggs are being harvested by government scientists.”
Miranda says, “See? This is why I love hanging out with you! Where else am I going to hear these types of conversations?”
I look at Lou. “You told Sherry about Mount Weather?”
“I did,” Lou says.
“But how did you know about the exchange?”
“Doc Howard told me.”
Sherry says, “I don’t give a rat’s ass who told who!”
“Whom,” Miranda says.
“Fuck you, whore!” Sherry says. She turns to me and says, “You’re not exchanging me for Rachel. Tell him, Lou.”
“Yeah, tell me, Lou.”
Lou clears his throat and says, “I agreed to let Sherry leave. We’ve got no right to hold her here against her will.”
“I agree.”
“You do?”
“Yes. But I’ll take her.”
Sherry looks at Lou. “Kill him if you have to, Lou. But don’t let him touch me!”
Lou gives me a pleading look, and I can see what’s going on. Lou’s been romancing Sherry, telling her how important and powerful he is. To gain her confidence, he told her my plans to get her sober and exchange her for Rachel. Then he promised to protect her from the big, bad Creed. Bought her expensive jewelry and clothes, and eventually seduced her. But now I’ve popped in, and Lou’s afraid Sherry’s going to see him in a different light.
“Let’s talk about this outside,” Lou says.
“Fair enough.”
He and I step outside. As we do, my phone vibrates. It’s Sal Bonadello, crime boss.
“What’s up?” I say.
“My Fourth of July party,” he says.
“You already invited me.”
“What about your blonde? You said you’d ask her. What’s her name? Callie? My party needs—whatcha call—pizzazz! Callie in a bikini? Yowzer!”
“Callie’s not a party animal.”
“Talk her into it.”
“I don’t know, Sal. The kind of people you’ll have there…”
“What about them?”
“Someone’s bound to hit on her.”
“So?”
“Callie hits back.”
“What’s that mean?”
“She might kill some of your guests.”
“I’ll put the word out. Hands off this one. But I gotta see her. And you.”
“You want me to wear a bikini too?”
“No, jerk wad. I might have some—whatcha call—gainful employment for you.”
“We’ll see.”
“We’ll see, we’ll see. That’s all you ever say.”
I hang up and look at Lou.
“Have you even bothered to tell your geeks to start searching the parameters we gave you?”
“Of course.” He looks at his watch. “They’ve been on it about forty minutes now.”
“This thing with Sherry Cherry,” I say. “How long has it been going on?”
“Long enough. I love her, Donovan.”
“She’s been here less than two months.”
“Doesn’t matter. Things are good between us.”
“Are you saying we’re at an impasse?”
He stares into my eyes, searching for hope. Finding none, he says, “Can you at least give us a few days?”
“Give me proof Doc Howard is Darwin, and that he’s dead.”
“If I provide it, you’ll let her stay?”
Yesterday Rachel threatened to kill Gwen. I believe her, she’s killed before.
“I’m in no rush to have Rachel on the outside,” I say. “She’s getting worse. If you can protect Sherry, she can stay here until I’m convinced Rachel’s functional.”
“I told Sherry she could leave.”
“She leaves with me or stays here on the compound. Those are your choices.”
“Why?”
“If something happens to Sherry, the government will never release Rachel.”
“Maybe they shouldn’t.”
“Maybe not. But I hope you don’t intend to take that option away from me.”
“Me? Of course not! I love Sherry. I want her here.”
“You’re aware of her history with drugs?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll protect her?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“I have your word?”
He pauses, knowing what that means.
“Yes,” Lou says. “You have my word.”
We go back in the room. Sherry looks at Lou, hopefully.
I say, “Sherry, there’s good news and bad. Which do you want to hear first?”
Sam Case.
THE TRIP TO Vegas is the worst of Sam’s life. One of the excellent doctors at Mount Weather set his broken nose yesterday, but of course it’s killing him today. Pain killers would be nice, but Sam won’t take them before meeting Maybe Taylor this afternoon. Pain killers could fog his brain, and he’ll need his wits if he’s going to talk Maybe into flying back east to kill Sherry Cherry.
Sam hadn’t considered he might feel severe pressure building up in his nose as the plane begins its initial descent into Las Vegas, but that’s exactly what happens. To make matters worse, his swollen nose has blocked his nasal passages and made him congested to the point his ears feel like they’re going to explode.
He tries not to cry out in pain, but he’s aware his dull moaning noises are annoying the passengers around him. He dabs at his nose with a cocktail napkin. Within seconds, it’s soggy with blood.
“That’s abhorrent!” the lady next to him says. “You need to do something!”
“Sorry,” Sam says.
“Are you crying?” she says.
“Probably.”
The pain in his face and ears is excruciating, and blood’s dripping from his nose faster than his napkin can contain it. Sam looks up to see the fasten seat belt sign lit and knows the flight attendants are buckled in for the landing. He asks the passengers around him if anyone has an extra cocktail napkin he can use, but either they didn’t hear him, or pretend not to. The lady next to him says, “That’s just great,” and fishes two tampons from her purse.
“It’s all I’ve got,” she says. “Do not bleed on my outfit.”
Sam accepts the tampons gratefully, opens them, and inserts one into each nostril as expertly as if he’d done it a hundred times.
“I hope you get toxic shock syndrome,” she says.
Sam packed light, so he doesn’t have to wait at baggage claim. He moves his jaw from side to side and pulls on his ears, trying to open them up. He gets one open in time to answer his cell phone.
“Where the hell have you been?” Darwin says.
“I just landed in Vegas. What’s wrong?”
“Donovan Creed is ruining your plans.”
“What do you mean?”
“He landed in Roanoke two hours ago.”
“Why’s that a problem?”
“Check your messages. I’ve left three.”
Sam makes his way to a quiet area and leans against the wall. “Since you’re already on the phone, can you just explain the problem?”
“Roanoke is near Creed’s headquarters, Sensory Resources. The place you met Doc Howard. The place they kept you after your snake bite. Does any of this ring a bell?”
“Of course. So what?”
“Don’t you think Creed might be there to check on Sherry Cherry? To see if she’s sobered up enough to effect the exchange?”
“Shit!”
“That’s the response I’m looking for.”
“If he’s got her, it’s over. I’ve lost.”
“Not necessarily. He still has to make arrangements with the government, and that will take time. Since you’re in Vegas, get Maybe Taylor on board. I’ll see if I can arrange for Sherry to escape.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, just do your part.”
Maybe Taylor.
&nbs
p; MAYBE CALLS SAM from the lobby and learns he’s on the second floor, room 228.
She’s excited to see Sam. Not because she finds him attractive, or even appealing, but because he adores her so. It allows her to dictate the terms of their relationship. She loves having sexual power over a man, especially a bright, older man like Sam. The fact he’s married adds to the appeal. She’s flattered he prefers her to his wife, and flattered to hear he’s willing to get a divorce to prove his love.
“You look like shit,” she says, when he opens the door.
“You look wonderful,” he says.
She enters, he closes the door, and slides the deadbolt into place.
“I killed Gwen,” she says.
“What?”
She laughs. “Just kidding. But I’ve got a plan, depending on the weapon you’ve brought. I’ve invited her to go shopping with me tomorrow, and—”
“There’s been a change of plans,” Sam says.
“What do you mean?”
“We need to put Gwen on hold.”
“No. I’ve got it all worked out, and you promised me the money.”
“I’ll still give you the hundred grand. It’s just…there’s a different target.”
“I’m not killing Callie Carpenter,” Maybe says.
“Not Callie. A woman from Virginia.”
“What woman?”
“Sherry Cherry.”
“What? Don’t fuck with me, Sam.”
“No, seriously, that’s her name. Look, it’s no big deal. She’s like a housewife or something. It’ll take you five minutes. Five minutes for a hundred grand.”
“Details, please.”
Sam hands her a small metal cylinder. It’s silver, and has the words “Lens Cleaner” printed in black on one side.
“Don’t open it,” Sam says. “It contains a mixture of cyanide and DMSO.”
“What’s that?”
“Dimethyl sulfoxide. You can use this to kill Sherry and Gwen. But you need to do Sherry first.”
Maybe scrunches her nose. “Cyanide’s a poison. What do you do, spray it in her nose?”
“Nose, mouth, eyes, are the best targets. But anywhere on her face will work, if you pump it several times. But be careful. Hold your breath while spraying, and move away quickly. If you do it outside, be sure there’s no wind to blow it back into your face.”
“How long does it take to work?”
