by Tim Kizer
“Tomorrow’s Sunday. I’ll wire the money on Monday.”
When Paul fell asleep, Sam asked Eric to leave the room. He locked the door behind Eric and checked his watch. It was 8:43.
The instructions did not specify the time at which the ritual had to be performed. They just said that it had to done on a full moon night, so Sam figured they were good to go as soon as it got dark. It had been over two hours since night had fallen.
At first he had planned to wait until midnight: he had started the ritual at ten minutes past midnight when he performed it in the Dallas County Jail last January. Then he had decided to do it when it got dark; if he failed, he would try again after midnight.
Sam opened the file drawer and retrieved the surveillance monitor, which received the video signal from the hidden camera in the larger room. Both men sat in chairs. Eric Pruitt was reading a magazine, and Ryan was doing nothing.
“When are we going to do it?” Jeff whispered.
“Now,” Sam whispered back, and placed the monitor on the desk.
They lifted Luke from the sofa and laid him on the floor. Luke stirred, let out a low groan, and smacked his lips. His eyes remained shut. Jeff pushed Paul’s chair to the sofa, grabbed Paul under the armpits, and with a grunt pulled him up.
“Need help?” Sam asked.
“No, I got this.” Jeff put Paul on the floor beside Luke.
Sam turned Paul on his right side and bent his legs at the knees so he wouldn’t roll onto his stomach or back. Jeff pushed Luke close to Paul, turned him on his side so he was facing Paul, and then pressed his face against the back of Paul’s head. Sam took an adjustable nylon belt out of the bag and bound the young men’s heads together with it. To stabilize Luke’s position, Jeff put his left arm over Paul’s body.
“Look at them. They’re spooning.” Jeff laughed.
Sam smiled. As he stared at Luke and Paul, he remembered lying behind Sam Curtis on Sam’s bed in the Dallas County Jail on the night of January eleventh, breathing in the smells of his hair and sweat, whispering the incantation, with his face pressed to the back of Sam’s head and his left arm wrapped around him. If a guard had seen them, he would have thought they were having sex.
Although he was not gay or bisexual, spooning his cellmate had not made Sam feel uncomfortable.
Has Edward been raped yet? Sam wondered. Edward wasn’t a muscleman, so there must be plenty of inmates in his unit who were strong enough to force him into submission.
Did rape take place in death row prisons?
Sam looked at the surveillance monitor. Eric Pruitt was still reading the magazine, and Ryan was gazing at the ceiling.
From his pants pocket, Sam pulled the piece of paper on which he had written the incantation, and unfolded it.
“Let’s do it,” he said.
Jeff stepped a few feet away from Luke and Paul and folded his arms across his chest.
“Naiz orod imat semas tauni mopela tus,” Sam read aloud.
The incantation had to be said by Sam because it worked only if it was said by the person who had performed the sacrifice.
“Naiz orod imat semas tauni mopela tus.”
Sam’s heart was pounding as hard as it had when he performed the ritual in the Dallas County Jail.
“Naiz orod imat semas tauni mopela tus.”
In his imagination, Sam saw lightning streak the sky and heard thunder roar.
Sam removed the belt from Luke’s and Paul’s heads and put it in the bag. Then they sat Luke and Paul down on the sofa.
“Let’s wake him up,” Jeff suggested.
“Okay.” Sam shook Luke’s shoulder. “Wake up! Wake up!”
No reaction.
Sam shook him for about fifteen seconds before giving up. He figured Luke still had a significant amount of chlorpromazine in his system.
He tried to wake Luke up again half an hour later. After Sam shook his shoulder a few times, Luke opened his eyes and looked around. When he saw Paul, he raised his eyebrows and said, “Is it over?”
“What’s your name?” Sam asked.
“Paul Pruitt.” Luke pointed at Paul. “Is this my body? My old body?”
“When is your birthday?”
“July nineteenth.”
Paul Pruitt’s birthday was July 19.
“What’s your father’s name?”
“Eric Pruitt.” Luke was staring at his hands with disbelief.
“What illness did you have?”
“Brain tumor. Is the procedure over?”
“Yes, it is.” Grinning from ear to ear, Sam turned to Jeff and said, “It worked.”
Sam was euphoric. He was glowing with excitement. Everything was going according to plan, and in two days he would be twenty million dollars richer.
Jeff clapped Luke on the shoulder and said, “Congratulations, son.”
Luke stood up and looked closely at Paul’s face.
“How are you feeling?” Sam asked.
“I’m feeling great,” Luke replied.
Sam patted Paul’s jeans pockets. “Did you have anything in your pockets?”
“No.”
“Would you like to get your clothes back?”
“No. Do you have a mirror?”
“Yes, we do.”
Sam opened the file drawer, took out a handheld mirror, and gave it to Luke.
Luke examined his face for half a minute, and then said to Sam, “Thank you, Jake. Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome. Come with me.”
Sam and Luke walked out of the room, and Sam said to Eric, “The procedure’s over. We’ve successfully transferred your son’s consciousness to Luke’s brain.”
Eric got up from the chair.
“Dad, it worked,” Luke said to him with a smile.
Looking fixedly at Luke, Eric asked, “What’s the password?”
“Godfather and shenanigans.”
“What movie did we watch last night?”
“Inception and Skyfall.”
Eric’s serious expression softened.
“Is that correct?” Sam asked.
“Yes.” Eric nodded. To Luke, he said, “Tell me the joke you told me this morning.”
“What's the difference between a bull and a cow? A bull smiles when you milk it.”
“What’s the name of the girl that gave you your first blowjob?”
“Julia Burns.”
“What’s the name of your cousin in Seattle?”
“Adam Browning.”
“I put something in my pants pocket before we left the house. What was it?”
“A Japanese coin. Fifty yen. It’s me, Dad. Are you going to ask me all the questions we prepared?”
“Yes. Who did we meet in Vegas last May?”
“Robert Downey Junior.”
“What happened in Hawaii last August?”
“I lost my phone.”
“What’s the name of your uncle in Houston?”
“James Pruitt.”
“What did you have for breakfast this morning?”
“Scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and a lettuce salad.”
“What happened in the great room two weeks ago?”
“I broke a vase.”
“Who’s Jordan Duggan?”
“He was my classmate. When I was seventeen, he asked if he could suck my dick. I said no.” Luke smiled. “Dad, it’s me.”
“Are his answers correct?” Sam asked Eric.
Eric nodded. “Yes.” His eyes filled with tears. He put his arms around Luke, and said, “This is amazing. This is amazing.”
“I don’t have a tumor anymore.” Luke’s eyes were swimming with tears.
Eric shook Sam’s hand, and said, “Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome,” Sam replied.
To Luke, Eric said, “I need to talk to Jake. Will you please wait in the hallway?”
Then he asked his assistant to wait in the hallway, and when Ryan and Luke stepped out of
the office, he said to Sam, “Can I talk to Luke?”
“Why? Do you still have doubts?”
“I’ll feel better if I talk to him.”
“What do you want to talk to him about?”
“I’ll ask him the questions I asked Paul.”
Would Pruitt refuse to pay if they didn’t let him speak to Luke?
Sam thought for a moment and then said, holding up five fingers, “Five questions. You can ask him five questions.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t tell him you’re the father of the guy he traded bodies with.”
“Why?”
“He might try to pretend he’s still your son. It’s happened before.”
They went into the smaller room, and Sam asked Jeff to wake Paul up.
It took Jeff less than a minute to rouse Paul from sleep.
“What’s going on?” Paul said when he awoke. He looked at Jeff and then at Eric, who was standing next to Jeff.
“What’s your name?” Eric asked.
“Luke,” Paul said.
“What’s your last name?”
“Gannon.” Paul frowned.
“Do you know who I am?”
“No.” Paul shook his head.
“Are you satisfied?” Sam asked Eric.
“Have we ever met before?” Eric asked Paul.
“No.” Paul shifted his gaze to Sam.
“Good night, Luke.” Eric headed for the door, and Sam followed him.
When they walked out of the room, Sam explained to Eric what needed to be done next. Then he gave Eric the bank account number that the twenty million was to be wired to. Eric asked Sam to come to his house on Monday at one p.m.
“I’m going to use my home computer to make the wire transfer,” he said. “I want you to verify that all the information is correct before I send the money.”
Chapter 36
1
Had Sam Curtis switched bodies?
It was Sunday, December 3. Last night, Mark had watched Curtis’s house from five p.m. to one a.m., with a two-hour break from eight to ten. He had seen no one leave or enter the house, the windows had been dark, and Curtis’s car had been nowhere to be found.
Even if Curtis had gotten a new body, he would still have gone home, wouldn’t he?
Mark checked his watch. It was 9:14 p.m.
Where the hell was Curtis?
Maybe he’s asleep?
Mark got out of his Impala, stretched his back, walked twenty yards down the street, then turned around and went back to his car.
The night was quiet and windless.
He would have to kill Sam Curtis eventually. He simply had no choice: if Curtis was prevented from swapping bodies in a county jail, he would do it later in a state prison. The only prison in Texas where Curtis wouldn’t be able to switch bodies was the death row block at the Allan B. Polunsky Unit, where the inmates were held in single cells for twenty-two hours a day. Curtis was not going to be sentenced to death for attempted murder.
Through the gaps in the blinds Mark could see a huge flat-screen TV in the house in front of which he had parked. Mark got in the car, picked up his phone, and sent Joan a message saying, “I’ll be home by 11.” A minute later, a white Mazda 6 pulled up to the curb in front of Curtis’s house. The driver got out, and when Mark saw his face, he let out a sigh of relief: it was Sam Curtis.
2
Emily Phillips was walking across the parking lot of Hamilton Middle School, where she taught math, when Edward called. She didn’t recognize the number and wondered if it was the parents of one of her students.
“Hi, Mom, this is Edward.”
Emily’s heart jumped when she heard Edward’s voice.
“Eddie? Oh my God!”
“How are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“I miss you, Mom.”
“I miss you, too, Eddie.”
“It’s been a long time since I last saw you. Why aren’t you visiting me?”
Emily’s stomach churned with guilt. “We’ve been busy. I’m sorry.” Lying to her son made her feel even more ashamed. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Eddie, honey, we love you. You can call any time you want.” A thick lump formed in Emily’s throat, and tears came to her eyes.
“Did Dad… Did Dad tell you not to visit me?”
“No, no, he didn’t.” Emily wiped the tears away.
“You can tell me the truth, Mom. I won’t be upset.”
Emily sighed heavily. “You know how your father is. His reputation is very important to him.”
“I understand him. Did Dad tell you not to attend my trial?”
“Yes. But I wanted to go. I really did.”
“It’s okay. I forgive you.”
Emily got in her Ford Explorer and put her purse on the passenger seat.
“Are they treating you well?”
“I have nothing to complain about.” Edward paused. “I want to see you. Can you come visit me?”
“I’d love to come. Can I visit you on a Saturday?”
“Yes. You can find the visitation schedule on the Internet.”
“I’ll look it up.”
“I miss you so much, Mom. Please come.”
The anguish in Edward’s voice made Emily’s heart twist.
“I will.”
“When?”
“By the end of this month, for sure.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, honey.”
“How’s Dad?”
“He’s fine.”
“Don’t tell him I called you, please.”
“Okay. Oh, I spoke to a police detective from Austin. His name’s Carlos Aguero. Have you met him?”
“Yes, I have.”
“He said they’d commute your sentence if you helped them solve the murder of a woman named Laura Sumner.”
“Let’s talk about it when we meet.”
“I think you should help them if you can.”
“We’ll talk about it when me meet, Mom. My time is up. Goodbye, Mom.”
“Goodbye, honey. I love you.”
Edward hung up.
Emily took a facial tissue from her purse and blotted her eyes.
Her Eddie wanted to see her. He missed her.
Jeff would be mad if she went to see Edward in prison.
In mid-January, Jeff had told her that they should stop visiting Edward in jail. He said that their son was a psycho murderer and that he deserved to be disowned.
“He disgraced our family. From now on, when people talk about us, they’ll say, ‘By the way, their son stabbed a girl to death,’” Jeff said.
Emily told herself she had to comply because Jeff was her husband and she loved him. But the truth was, if she had really wanted to visit Edward in prison or attend his trial, she would have done it. The reason she heeded Jeff’s request was simple: part of her agreed with him.
From time to time Emily wondered if abandoning Edward made her a bad mother. She did not dwell on this subject because she believed that lack of parents’ attention was the least of Edward’s concerns. The only thing a man on death row wished for was freedom, and she couldn’t give it to her son.
She had to visit Edward. Jeff wasn’t going to be mad, because she wouldn’t tell him that she’d met with their son.
Chapter 37
1
As he neared the front porch of Eric Pruitt’s marvelous mansion, Sam thought: in just a few hours I’ll be able to afford a house like this. He would be able to afford it even if he paid income tax on the money received from Pruitt (they were going to give Uncle Sam his cut because messing with the IRS was a foolish and dangerous idea).
Sam was dressed in the same suit he’d worn in New Horizons’ office last Saturday.
Eric Pruitt opened the door before Sam could knock on it.
“Please come in.”
They shook han
ds, and Pruitt led Sam to his study.
“Did you take a cab here?” Pruitt asked, pulling his laptop in front of him.
“Yes.”
“How’s Luke?”
“He’s fine.”
It was a lie. Luke was dead and buried in the woods twenty miles east of Dallas. Sam had killed him the same way he had killed Helen Hinton, Laura Sumner, and hitchhiker Edgar.
“Thank you for saving my son’s life, Jake. I’m extremely grateful to you.”
“You’re very welcome, Eric. Did your son speak to Luke’s parents?”
“Yes, he did. Everything went smoothly.” Pruitt started typing on his laptop.
“Does Paul like his new body?”
“Yes, he does. Are you going to tell Luke who he traded bodies with?”
“No.”
The door swung open, and Ryan and a tall burly man in a dark suit entered the study. Ryan walked over to Sam, reached inside his suit jacket, and pulled out a pistol.
“Get up,” Ryan commanded.
Sam looked from Ryan to Pruitt and then back to Ryan. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
Sam felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t like it when people pointed guns at him. It took virtually no effort to kill with a pistol, and it was very easy to shoot someone accidentally.
“Eric, what’s going on?” Sam forced a smile.
“He’s got a gun,” Pruitt said. “If I were you, I’d get up.”
Sam rose to his feet.
This motherfucker didn’t want to pay the twenty million!
Were they going to kill him?
Sam’s skin crawled into gooseflesh.
The burly man patted Sam down thoroughly and then said, “He’s clean.”
“Eric, you’re a respectable businessman, and I expect you to keep your end of the bargain,” Sam said.
The burly man drew his gun and pointed it at Sam.
Sam swallowed hard. “Can you lower your guns, please? They make me really uncomfortable.”
Pruitt’s goons ignored his request.
“Eric, can you tell your guys to lower their guns? I’m not going to run, I promise.”
“Everything will be all right, Jake.” Pruitt stepped out from behind his desk. “Cuff him.”
Ryan took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and put them on Sam’s wrists.
“You’re making a big mistake.” Sam glared at Pruitt.
