A Killer Harvest

by Paul Cleave

  Toni stares into her glass. There are no answers in there. “Are you going to arrest me?”

  “I should, because I’ve had the worst damn day, and it all stems from what you and Ben and Mitchell were doing. There’s a dead kid out there that I’ve been blaming myself for, and even though it all comes back to what you guys were doing, it still feels like it’s my fault, so for that I’m angry. For that I shouldn’t just arrest you, I should shoot you and give your organs to some people with better ethics than either you or I have, and maybe I’ll do that, I don’t know. I really don’t know. I’ll sleep on it.”

  “We were trying to help people,” Toni says, and she really should have poured that second drink. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know, I know you are,” Vega says, and she takes a deep breath and calms herself. “Look, right now I want to talk about Joshua. Can we do that?”

  “Yes,” Toni says.

  “You’re not going to give me any of that doctor-patient confidentiality bullshit, because if you are, then—”

  “No. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  “Is it possible he’s really seeing these things that his dad saw?”

  “Ben believed so. In fact . . . he wanted me to perform an operation on him and Erin.”

  “What kind of operation?”

  “He wanted one of Erin’s eyes. He believed it would give him the ability to see who had pushed her off the roof.”

  “Two minutes ago I thought I’d heard the most insane thing I’ve ever heard,” Vega says. “You’ve just managed to top it.”

  “I told him it was crazy, and that I wouldn’t do it.”

  “I’m glad you at least have some kind of moral compass,” Vega says, not giving Toni a chance to respond before carrying on—not that she would have. “I want to take Joshua out of here.”

  “You can’t. He’s under observation.”

  “It’s important. I’ve been updated on his condition. The MRI and tests are all clear. There is no reason he needs to be kept in here.”

  “There is a reason,” Toni says. “ ‘Better safe than sorry’ might not sound like much of a reason, but it’s a valid one.”

  “Look, Doctor, we now know there’s another killer out there. Did he save Joshua, and is he a hero? Or is he just another criminal? I don’t know. This thing you’ve been involved with, this little . . . Frankenstein business of yours, it’s gotten people killed.”

  Toni knows she’s right. In the beginning they’d harvest organs and save lives and there was something good in that, but then the darkness of it all crept in.

  “They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and right now that’s a road you’re a long way down. Me, I have my own demons to get under control because of today. You and me, we need to do this. Right now. There’s a killer out there, and we need to find him right now.”

  “By putting Joshua in danger.”

  “By getting Joshua to help. If we do nothing and this guy kills again and you could have done something to prevent that, are you going to be able to live with yourself?”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about,” Toni says.

  “I promise I’ll keep him safe.”

  “We,” Toni says, pushing her empty glass aside.

  “Sorry?”

  “It’s we, Detective. We will be keeping him safe. If you’re taking Joshua out of here, I’m coming with you.”

  FORTY-SIX

  It’s after visiting hours, and Joshua’s mom is no longer allowed to stay. His mom arranges a ride back to the railway tracks because her car is still there. They hug good-bye, and she tells him she loves him. For a while he doesn’t think she’s going to let go.

  He lies down on his bed and turns on the TV, hoping for a distraction, hoping to see something other than the endless footage in his mind of Scott being murdered. All that’s on are reality shows. There’s one about renovating houses, one about cooking, another one about renovating houses, and another one about cooking. During breaks he sees advertisements for reality shows about mass dating, shows about teenagers partying, shows about heavily tanned housewives swearing at each other, shows about cops pulling people over with blurry faces and potty mouths. It’s the kind of TV that makes him miss being blind.

  The day is catching up with him, and he’s feeling exhausted, but when he turns off the TV he finds he can’t get to sleep. His mind is racing in such an uncontrollable way, he would be seriously surprised if he ever slept again. His hand itches, but unlike when his eyes itched after the operation, he’s able to dig his finger under the bandaging to scratch at it. When Dr. Coleman comes in, he’s surprised to see her—and he thinks somehow she’s found out he’s scratching at himself and she’s coming to tell him off the same way people were telling him off when he scratched at his eyes—but then Detective Inspector Vega walks in after her, which tells him something else is going on. He sits up.

  “How ya feeling, Joshua?” Vega asks.

  “Has something happened? Is Uncle Ben still okay?”

  “He’s still in surgery,” Dr. Toni says.

  “Joshua, I want to ask you about something,” Vega says.

  “Is he going to be okay? Uncle Ben?”

  “We’re hopeful,” Dr. Toni says.

  He crosses his arms and nods. “What do you want to ask me?”

  “It’s about cellular memory,” she says.

  “I didn’t think you believed me.”

  “I’m keeping an open mind,” she says. “I want to know, is it possible if you saw a picture of the other man who was there this afternoon, you might recognize him?”

  “You want me to look through mug shots?” he asks.

  “No, because we found prints at the scene today that don’t match anybody—all the people in our mug shot books have names and fingerprints, so we’re dealing with someone who doesn’t have a record,” Vega says.

  “So somebody else was there,” he says, and even though he knew he couldn’t have been the one to kill Scott, it comes as a huge relief to have proof. But who did? And why kill Vincent and save him? “It’s just like I told you.”

  “We believe somebody else is involved, yes,” Vega says, and suddenly his relief disappears. It sounds like Vega is still making room for the possibility he’s been lying to her, because we believe somebody else is involved isn’t the same as we know it wasn’t you.

  “So what are you asking me?”

  “Would you be willing to come with me to Vincent Archer’s house to take a look around?”

  He thinks about it for a few seconds. “You think I’m going to see a photograph of the person who killed Vincent Archer?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “But I didn’t see who killed him, and even if there is a photograph in Vincent’s house, it’s probably going to be a picture of a friend of his, right? Why would a friend kill him?”

  “Most people who are killed are killed by somebody they know,” Vega says. “Also, Archer has been taking photographs of other people he was following. I think that if you come to the house you might see something that I can’t see.”

  “But like I said, I never saw who killed him.”

  “No, but you might recognize something, or somebody, from your dreams.”

  “Okay,” he says. “I’m in.”

  “I’ll call your mom and run it past her.”

  Vega makes the call. She explains to his mom what their plan is. His mom tells Vega she’ll call back with a decision in a few minutes, though Joshua isn’t sure what it is she needs to think about. Dr. Toni sources some clothes for him. A pair of jeans that are a little too long and a faded T-shirt that is a little too tight. The shoes and socks fit okay. He wonders who they belonged to and what happened to that person. He likes the idea of being able to help. He thinks his dad would be proud of him.

  His mom calls back. She tells Vega she’s not willing to let Joshua go. Joshua can’t understand why, and nor can Vega, who argues the point. His m
om can’t be convinced. Joshua feels all the energy leave the room. He’s upset with his mom. He wanted to go.

  “Your mom has agreed that we can talk about it again tomorrow,” Vega says after she’s hung up. She sounds disappointed. “She said she wants to run it past your lawyer first.”

  “I don’t need her permission to go,” he says.

  “No, but I do. You’re sixteen years old, Joshua. If I took you to Vincent Archer’s house without her consent, I’d lose my job.” She looks like she wants to say more but can’t seem to figure out what. She takes a deep breath, then sighs slowly. “On that note, I suggest we call it a night. Joshua, I’ll have someone escort you to the station in the morning to meet with your mom and your lawyer, and then we can interview you and get a formal statement.”

  “I think mom is going to meet me here,” he says.

  “Either way,” Vega says, sounding dejected, “I’ll see you at the station tomorrow.”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Vega feels flat. And angry. And tired. She wants to drive to Michelle Logan’s house and shake her by the shoulders until she changes her mind. For the life of her, she can’t figure out why Michelle said no. Sure, she wants to protect her son, and that’s understandable, but Vega questions if there’s something more going on.

  She walks with the doctor and they part ways at the elevator. Vega makes her way to the waiting room outside the operating theater where Ben is being operated on. Several off-duty officers are hanging about, even though visiting hours are over. She updates them on the case. Nobody here holds any malice towards Joshua—their blame is directed at the man responsible, but she can’t help but think some of it should be directed at Ben Kirk as well. Despite his claims that killing Simon Bower was an act of self-defense, she now knows it was an execution. She spends time with their colleagues, swapping stories about Ben—stories that don’t reveal what he was truly capable of. She wonders if any of them knows what Ben and Mitchell were up to. She wonders if Tracey knows.

  From the hospital she drives back to the railway crossing. Lights have been set up along the railway line. Crime scene tape has been strung up with patrol cars guarding the intersections. Somebody in the crowd of onlookers is eating a pizza out of the box while watching. She wants to grab him by the collar and show him up close what death looks like and tell him it isn’t entertainment. Police officers are stationed along the fence line, pacing back and forth and asking people to stop taking photographs and threatening them with arrest if they don’t comply. The photographs of the bodies posted online earlier have been removed from the source—but those photographs were copied and shared thousands of times already. The exercise isn’t completely pointless—those who took and uploaded the pictures will all be charged, and hopefully it will send out a message to others willing to do the same stupid thing. Only she doesn’t think it will. The kind of person who takes a photograph of a dead teenage boy and puts it online isn’t the kind of person who understands how society should work. Some of those photographs were selfies, the photographers standing on the fence smiling into the camera with the crime scene behind them. It’s the kind of behavior that gives her grave concerns for civilization.

  For the briefest of moments, she thinks those photographers would make great candidates for Ben and Mitchell’s organ-transplant program.

  Detective Travers is talking to Officer Walker, the officer who found Vincent’s Lexus. Detective Kent, Travers’s partner, is standing with a forensic technician a little way down the tracks. Vega walks over to Kent. She’s always had somewhat of a crush on Kent, and that crush never lessened after the detective was left with a horrible scar on the side of her face after somebody tried to kill her a while back. She thinks back to her conversation with Dr. Coleman earlier, about seeing all kinds of bad things on the job, and seeing Kent now makes her think how easy it must have been for Ben and Mitchell to justify to themselves what they were doing. She isn’t sure what she would do to somebody who hurt Tracey in such a way, but she suspects if she were truly honest she knows the answer.

  Vega has met the forensic guy on other cases. His name is Mike Peterson, and Peterson is one of those guys who use their hands a lot when they talk. He’s in his fifties, completely bald with a pointed head like the end of a rugby ball. He’s always friendly and happy to talk, and not the kind of guy you want to get caught on the phone with if you’re in a hurry. Together, Kent and Peterson walk her through the scene and give her what Peterson calls the “most likely scenario.” He gives the phrase air quotes to stress that the word likely means there’s a factor for error.

  They show her disturbances in the stones and grass, and tell her whose blood is where, and whose shoes made which impressions. Peterson does most of the talking. The “most likely scenario” supports what Joshua has been saying, that Scott chased him down the train tracks, tripped him, and sent him down the stony embankment. There are blood marks on stones that Peterson tells her came from Joshua’s hands and knees. There are signs of a struggle, then footprints where Joshua tried to run. They come to a stop farther down the tracks—the spot where Scott Adams was killed. It’s here where Joshua dumped his schoolbag. The body has been removed.

  “It’s hard to tell what happened next,” Peterson says, as they walk to the location where the second body was found. “We think Archer dragged Joshua Logan up to the tracks. We got clothing fibers and trail marks that lead up the bank.”

  “There are grazes on Joshua’s back,” Vega says.

  “On his uniform too,” Kent says, “which was badly torn.”

  Peterson is nodding. “All of it indicates he was on his back and dragged by his hands.”

  “One possibility,” Kent says, “is that Archer was planning on letting Joshua get hit by a train to hide what had really happened. I’ve seen it happen before.”

  “Only at some point Joshua gained partial consciousness and made his way further down the tracks,” Peterson says.

  “But not right away,” Vega says.

  “No, not right away,” Peterson says.

  “Between him getting dragged up here, and ending up down there, we think that’s when our unknown subject showed up. He takes care of Archer. We think because Archer dragged Joshua up the slope, he had his back to the tracks and the path on the other side, so never saw his attacker coming. The blood trail suggests he was hit with the rock before making his way down the hill to flee. It’s why there’s a distance between the bodies.”

  “Have you spoken to Tracey?” Kent asks.

  “Not yet,” Vega says, but she needs to. And not just about Vincent Archer.

  “My guess is Archer’s attacker caught up and hit him again with the rock, perhaps a few more times. Tracey will be able to confirm,” Peterson says.

  “We can’t explain why Joshua had the knife,” Kent says.

  “I think I can. He told me he can vaguely remember being dragged up onto the tracks, and after that he thinks he walked along them.”

  “It would explain why he was so far down,” Kent says.

  “I think it’s possible Archer put the knife in Joshua’s hand hoping that when the train hit it would somehow stay in there, or at the least have Joshua’s fingerprints on it. He had no idea we were looking for him and, if we hadn’t been, and it had happened that way, we’d all be drawing very different conclusions. My guess is Joshua held onto it as he walked along the tracks before collapsing. Any witnesses?” Vega asks. “Any of these camera-happy neighbors have anything useful to say?”

  “Nothing,” Kent says. “There’s something else that even makes less sense than this guy coming along and saving Joshua and then fleeing. Why leave Joshua out on the tracks where he could be killed? Why not drag him off to the side?”

  “He fled the scene because of us,” Vega says. “He heard the sirens and he figured the police would find Joshua before the next train did.”

  “It’s one hell of a gamble,” Kent says.

  “Well, it wasn’t his life
he was gambling with,” Vega says.

  “It still doesn’t make sense,” Kent says.

  “It does if you factor in that the guy who saved Joshua is a Good Samaritan with something to hide.”

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Joshua wakes up at six a.m. He sits by the window, watching the city come to life. He had no idea how many people would be up and about at this time. There are people jogging on the streets, making their way to or from the nearby park. There are delivery trucks, taxis, police cars, perhaps people finishing work while others are starting it, perhaps people on their way to the airport to fly a few thousand miles for work or holiday. He’s been on a plane a few times. Two years ago his parents took him to Tahiti, and he’s been to Australia twice; he rode some roller coasters at a theme park there and it was one of the best days of his life. He wants to go back.

  Dr. Hatch comes in a little before eight. He smells of coffee and there’s some kind of stain on the lapel of his white jacket, perhaps chocolate. He smiles at Joshua and asks how he’s feeling, and Joshua replies he’s feeling fine, and doesn’t mention how tired he is, or how sore he is. During the night the headache came back, but if yesterday’s was a ten, then last night’s was a three. It was uncomfortable enough to make falling asleep difficult. It didn’t help that whenever he closed his eyes he saw the look on Scott’s face when he realized he was dying, and other times he would see the look on Uncle Ben’s face as he was bleeding out. The cuts on his hands are hurting too, as are the scrapes on his back.

  “Your uncle is going to be fine,” Dr. Hatch tells him. “The operation was a success, and he’s going to make a full recovery. It will take some time, but he’ll get there.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “Not yet, no. He’s still in intensive care, but he’s stable. Perhaps later today, or tomorrow.”