Dean lifted one of the vine like objects. “Definitely a nest. I think. I’ll know more with testing.”
“Fuck.”
“What?”
“That’s all we fuckin need. I have a war to fight and now this shit.”
“Well, look at it this way; at least we got a heads up on what we might be up against.”
“True. You think the reason we aren’t seeing them is because they do that invisible shit like predator. Because Dean, I really think we’d see a lizard looking thing.”
Dean paused. “Hey, um, Frank? Can you not tell too many people about your alien theory?”
“Absolutely.” Frank nodded. “I don’t want to cause a panic.”
“Um … yeah.”
“Shit.”
“What now?”
“My surprise.”
“Oh, yeah, what is it.”
“You’ll love me.”
“I already do.”
Frank tilted his head. “You’re not gonna start calling me Shortcake, too, are you?”
“Doubtful.”
“Check it out, Dean. You know how I was saying ow?”
“Yeah.”
Frank lifted his leg to the counter. “Check out my boot.”
“Holy shit.” Dean propped the tiny hole with his finger. “What did this?”
“This.” From behind Frank pulled the steel net and laid it on the counter. “I think it’s hungry.”
“Oh, my God.” Dean started to open the net.
“Wait. Stop. It bites.”
Just as Dean’s finger reached, the creature squirmed, jumped, and snapped its jaws. “Shit. OK.” Dean walked across the lab, prepared a syringe. “Can you hold it still?”
“Yeah.” Frank laid his palm on the creature. “What are you giving it?”
“Some thorazine. Should knock it out.” Dean injected. “Fuck, its skin is tough.” Within seconds of the injection, the creature stopped squirming.
“It’s not dead is it?” Frank asked.
“No. Listen.” Dean tilted his head toward it. “It’s breathing.”
Frank grabbed the net, opened it, and rolled it out onto the counter with a thump.
“Easy,” Dean told him. “Whoa.” He pulled forth a magnifying glass on a stand. The creature was no bigger than six inches. With Tweezers, Dean examined it. “Two arms, legs, eyes, nose.”
“Tail,” Frank said.
“Fleshy. But a tail yes.”
“Dean, this looks human, but it’s not. It’s like the smallest Killer Baby I’ve ever seen. And these things fucking jump. Jump, bite, jump away. Do you know what it is?”
“I can give you a great guess, but again, I’ll know more when I examine it. And also the nest. To see if this came from that.”
“It’s alien.”
“No,” Dean said. “It’s human. But it looks like you are right. They are reproducing. This really is the smallest Killer Baby, because it’s … it looks like a fetus.”
“A fetus?” Frank’s head cocked back.
“Yeah, like a four month gestational fetus,” Dean said. “I think what happens here is sort of like with the kangaroo.”
“What do you mean?’
“When a kangaroo gets pregnant, they deliver a fetus, not fully developed, it craws up the mothers leg and into the pouch where it finishes. I think the Killer Baby offspring do a similar.”
“So this is a fetus?”
“Yes,” Dean said. “Notice the tail. The eyes aren’t fully developed, nor the nose.”
“Fuck. Killer Fetuses.”
“Looks that way.”
“At least you know to beat them all you have to do is step on them.”
Dean gazed up from his examination. “You can’t step on them Frank.”
“Why?”
“Because you can’t. It’s wrong.”
Frank shrugged.
“Can I have this?”
“It’s yours. Can I name him?”
“Sure.”
“OK, call him Harry,” Frank said.
Dean chuckled. “You know Frank...” he walked to find a cage. “This is so fascinating. I wish to God I had time to just dedicate myself to learning all about the killer babies.”
“Why’s that?”
“Not just because it’s interesting,” Dean placed the fetus in a cage. “But because when El and I went to the future, Beginnings was overrun with them. Now we can guess why. Look at the Killer Fetuses. But if we can learn more about them, we may not have to have such problems with them.”
“You need more time?”
“Yeah, unfortunately I can’t have it. Any luck with that Coyote?”
“Huh?’
“Sorry, I changed the subject too fast.”
“No. that’s ok, no luck yet.”
“Anyhow,” Dean continued. “With the lab work, the clinic, surgeries, and so forth, I don’t have the time.”
“Sort of like if you could just disappear for a while and not be missed, huh?”
Dean nodded. “Exactly. I’d learn Harry. But…” he fluttered his lips. “I don’t have that luxury.”
“Dean,” Frank spoke serious. “There’s something I need to show you.” He reached into his back pocket. “I brought it …” Just as his arm went back, Frank’s phone rang. “Hold on.” He grabbed the phone. “Yeah.” His eyes shifted to Dean. “When? Is it bad? Good. How can we be sure?” Frank held of snickering. “I’m on my way.”
“Problem?” Dean asked.
Frank put his phone way. “Sort of. We’ll finish this talk later.” He walked to the door. “You’re clear though.”
“Of?”
“Anyone suspecting you as the mutilator. They just found a victim,” Without saying anymore, Frank left.
Dean shook his head. “El.” He stopped. “Wait. El didn’t come home.” After a shrug, he embarked on examining Harry.
<><><><>
Robbie slept on it. Or at least tried. Actually, he stopped by the lab at four in the morning, when he saw Dean. “Can I get something to help me sleep?” he asked Dean.
“What’s wrong?”
Robbie shook his head.
“Robbie?”
Robbie exhaled. “Just the investigation that’s all.”
“Need to talk?”
Robbie shook his head and Dean gave him something to relax him. By the time he arrived home, he was walking in a fog, and was out the second he laid on the couch. He supposed his adrenaline was still pumping and in a few hours, he was awake.
At first, Robbie thought it was a dream. It had to be. It didn’t make sense.
It was so far into the senseless realm; Robbie didn’t want to tell anyone until he figured out the how and why of it.
When Dean asked him if he needed to talk, Robbie’s first thought was that he wouldn’t talk to Dean. Then as reality hit him on the way to his office, he realized Dean could be the only one he could talk about it with.
Dean could be the only one to help make sense out of it, or help him to find out the how. That was an option for later. If he couldn’t do it on his own.
Robbie ran the print match.
When it came up a positive match, he couldn’t believe his eyes. He ran it again, and shut down the program as soon as the results were in.
“No.” he rubbed his eyes.
Returning to the office, he did it again. He watched the little ‘x’ marks of matching appear of the screen. One by one until it was a 99.9% positive match.
It was true. The prints matched. He just couldn’t share the results with anyone. If the killer was a mystery before, then it was turning into an even bigger mystery. One Robbie wanted to solve without the help of his brothers. When he solved it, he would present it completely.
But he had to be the one to solve it. He had to be.
If he was asked he would simply answer, ‘Nothing yet. No match.”
He couldn’t tell about the positive match, because he couldn’t explain it.
<
br /> The only thing that made sense to Robbie was the fact that Darrell didn’t see Dean the clone carry the thermos into the office.
He wouldn’t have.
The clone wasn’t the one that carried it in.
Robbie failed to ask that question. Instead of asking Darrell if he saw Dean carrying anything. He should have asked Darrell if he saw the thermos. When he realized that was the question he should have asked, he went to the clinic.
“A thermos?” Darrell asked.
“Yeah, like a mug, only bigger.” Robbie described.
“Oh, yeah,” Darrell nodded. “I saw it. That was a given. It was always in Joe’s office.”
“Was it there that day?” Robbie asked.
“Absolutely.”
Absolutely.
Of course, it would be there that day; it had the explosive in it.
Robbie went back to his office. He stared at the results one more time before taking them from the screen.
He would remove all traces of his search.
At least for the time being.
Until he could look into it more.
Back to the basics. Back to the beginning? Robbie had new evidence and would have to view the case from a different angle.
In fact, he’d listen to Darrell’s tape differently with that information in his mind.
The prints belonged to one person.
On the explosive. The container and the timer.
One person built it, carried it, and set the timer.
One person secured his father’s death.
He finally had a match to that one set of prints.
It really was someone in Beginnings. It was the last person he’d expect. Clear cut matching evidence was in. The prints belonged to the person responsible for the explosion that killed his father. Only problem was the identity of the bomb builder.
The prints came up a positive match... with Joe.
<><><><>
The clinic lab door was open. Dean stood, shoulder leaning against the archway, one arm crossed over his waist, while the other hand covered his mouth.
That’s how Frank found him.
But Dean wasn’t covering a look of concern or worry. He was hiding his laughter.
“What’s going on?” Frank asked.
“I beat you here.”
“No fuckin shit. I went to the field house first. That’s where they told me he was.”
Dean shrugged. “I guess you missed him in transit. I got the call he was on his way here, right after you left.”
“I wish someone would have told me.”
“Shh.” Dean pointed. “Listen. Henry’s bitching.”
“When doesn’t he?”
Dean sniffed. “Seems he’s having one heck of a time getting the eye shadow off.”
“So why is he here and not at Bentley’s for some cold cream?” Frank asked.
“Injured in the mutilation.”
“Really?” Frank raised his eyebrows. “Did you see him when he came in?”
“Oh, yeah. Caught a real good glimpse.”
“And?”
“Priceless.”
Frank snorted a laugh. “Did anyone get … pictures?”
Dean nodded. “Danny did. Said it was for the investigation. But somehow I doubt it.”
“Tell me…wait.” Frank cleared his throat. “In an official capacity, can you tell me what you witnessed of the victim doctor?”
Andrea’s. ‘Sweet Jesus, Henry hold still.” Rang out.
Dean smirked. “Absolutely, I’ll tell you. It appears the victim was found unconscious in the bunk house of the field workers…” Dean paused when Henry shrieked.
“Henry!” Andrea snapped.
“Sorry Andrea, you got soap in my eyes.”
Dean crinkled his brow up and down. “Wait, Frank until you see his eyebrows.”
“Gone?”
“Plucked.”
“Fuck.” Frank cleared his throat again. “Continue.”
“The victim was found ….” Dean paused. “Wearing a wonderful shade of pink. As satin mid length skirt, too much make up for my liking, though the shade of lipstick was becoming, and his attire was finished with a boa.”
“So what was the mutilation?”
“Uh!” Dean flashed a grin and gave a swat to Frank’s arm. “Frank, that was funny.”
“What?”
“Your joke.”
“What joke?”
“You asked what the mutilation was.”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t a joke. That was my question.”
“Henry in drag was the mutilation.”
“Oh” Frank exhaled. “I thought he was dressed like that and then got mutilated.”
“Even better.”
The door to the examining room opened loudly and Henry stormed out.
“Henry, calm down,” Andrea ordered.
Henry skid to a stop and spun to her. “I can’t. I can’t calm down, Andrea. There were ribbons in my hair. And now I look like an Asian Joan Crawford.” He turned around and stopped before Frank. “Look at me.”
“Henry,” Frank said. “It’s not that bad. I don’t see permanent mark. At least you don’t have that.”
“No?” Henry stepped to Frank. “No. Look at my ears Frank. My ears were pierced. Both of them!”
Andrea interjected. “I removed the diamond studs.”
“But now I have holes in my ears!”
Frank said, “Henry, you’ve always had holes in your ears.”
“My lobes, asshole!” Henry barked.
“Hey!” Andrea yelled. “Respect! Sweet Jesus Henry. They’ll close up in a week.”
“They hurt!”
“Try ice!” Andrea shouted.
With scolding eyes, Henry pointed a finger at Dean. “You. This is all your fault.”
“How?” Dean asked. “How is this my fault?”
“You did this to me. You did this.”
Frank interjected. “Uh, Henry, that’s a negative. Dean was in the cryo and or home all night long. From Ten on. Tracked. Not Dean.”
“Then he set this up to clear his name. Awfully convenient this happens, to me, when I’m insisting on the mutilator being caught.” Henry barged by Frank and Dean. “I want Justice, Frank. Justice!” He stormed down the hall and slammed his hands against the doors in his exit.
Frank whistled. “He’s pissed.”
“Well …” Andrea huffed out. “Usually I am outraged by the attacks, but this time …I’m angry at Henry.”
“Wow,” Dean said surprised. “Why? Because he’s behaving so badly?”
“No,” Andrea replied. “Because there was one pair of size nine, Ben-Tastic, pink and green heels and Henry not only was wearing them, he ruined them in his tantrum. I wanted those size nine shoes!” Andrea huffed again, folded her arms, and turned, mumbling, “I hope his eyebrows don’t grow back. Let’s go, Joe.”
Frank watched Andrea walk away, and then after she slammed her office door, he exhaled loudly and turned.
“Where are you going?” Dean asked.
Frank pointed with his thumb. “To find Danny for those pictures.” He took a step. “You gonna go back to Harry the Killer Fetus?”
“Yeah, I want to talk to Andrea first, while she’s alone.”
Frank gave a ‘go on’ nod and walked away.
Dean, still chuckling, headed to Andrea’s office. He raised his hand to knock, but paused.
“I don’t know,” Andrea said from inside. “I just don’t know, Joe. On one hand, I see Henry’s point, on the other. I wanted those shoes. I know you won’t say anything.”
Dean retracted his knock, if he were going to ask for clinic time off, he’d wait until she was in a better frame of mind.
CHAPTER NINE
Robbie covered the lag himself. He wasn’t the happiest camper when he took watch, but that’s what he had to do.
‘No one’s on the schedule for fourteen through eighteen, Robbie,’ Frank told him.
Robbie responded with a sincere apology and told Frank he forgot.
“If the investigation is too much, then I’ll put someone else on it.”
“No.” Robbie said. “I’ll clear my head and work on that when I have time.”
Robbie got defensive at first, barking back at Frank that he was in his shit too much and to quit double checking everything. But after his initial stewing he admitted that Frank had a point. Robbie, though doing his job as head of Security, didn’t have his mind in it. There was a time and place for everything. He had to start putting the investigation out of his mind.
It was tough.
He couldn’t get past the fact that his father’s fingerprints were the one on the bomb, even worse, the ones on the timing device. Which meant, to Robbie, Joe set the bomb.
And that’s where the sense went out the window.
Why would his father build and set a bomb to take his own life. Unless he didn’t intend to die.
Walking back to the office, he paused to watch the construction of the new end unit that would replace Joe’s office.
His mind flashed back to that day. The day the office was destroyed, a frame remained, and Frank carried his father’s dead body.
What went wrong?
With the rounds finished, and the schedule fixed, Robbie returned to his Security office. It was the first time it hit him how much of a mess the small office was.
Boxes of evidence from the investigation, the computer in there for fingerprints.
He had to step over things to get to the desk.
At least he had time to listen to Darrel’s interview again, and try to pick up something he missed before.
Just seated, hand reaching for the tape player, Frank interrupted with a “Robbie” and a single knock before opening the door.
“Hey, Frank.” Robbie looked up.
“Sorry about coming down on you,” Frank said.
“No. No problem. You were right. My mind wasn’t on the ball. I’ll be better.”
“I know. So, what are you doing right now?”
“Finding some time to work on this investigation.”
Frank snorted a laugh and looked around. “This place is a mess.”
“It’s a big investigation. But like I said, I will make time for it. Schedule it. Plan it.”
“One problem you may have is everything is right here,” Frank said. “It’s staring you in the face. Unorganized. Why don’t you move everything in the investigation somewhere else? Think about it. If it’s out of sight, you won’t feel so compelled to work on the puzzle. Having to go to it will make you work by the time slots.”
The Third Ten Page 89
