Unholy Shepherd

by Robert W Christian

  Maureen lay on the cot along the wall, facing the ceiling. Her back was arched, and her head snapped back and forth on the flat pillow. She was talking in her sleep. Collins had called it gibberish but, though he did not understand the words, Manny could detect language in the patterns of the syllables that came from her lips. The tone was unsettling, almost otherworldly. As he looked on, her movements seemed to take on a dance between two forces. Where at first she seemed to move in time with some unknown force, now it appeared as if she were struggling against it, wanting to move left but being dragged to the right. Her voice began to reach a crescendo, and Manny could clearly make out the final word she uttered before her eyes snapped open. She thrust herself upright and sprang away from the cot, her back crashing into the bars with a loud clatter. She snapped around and locked eyes with him. Though it was brief, he caught a wild, terrified look, like a cornered animal, before she shrank away to the opposite end of the cell and sat, hugging her knees and staring at the floor.

  “Collins!” he called out over his shoulder, masking his disconcertment as best as he could. “I need you back here. Bring the keys to the cell!”

  The other officer appeared moments later, keys jingling in his hand. He was composed as he stepped around the corner, but his mask of calm dropped away instantly when his eyes fell upon the slouching figure in the corner that was their prisoner. He turned to Manny, his raised eyebrows and slacked jaw asking what they were supposed to do now.

  “Open the cell door, Jack,” Manny said as calmly as he could. “Then take a few steps back and let me speak with her alone before we decide what to do.” He hoped it wasn’t showing how upset he was at what he had just witnessed.

  Collins nodded, clearly unable to find any words. He stepped forward and turned the key in the lock. The snap of the lock was the only other sound in the air apart from Maureen’s breath coming in gasps. Manny pushed the door open slowly and looked back at Collins, jerking his head in the direction of the hallway entrance. Collins nodded at him again and backed up a dozen or so paces, far enough so that he could not be seen by anyone from inside the holding cell.

  She didn’t look at him as he slowly walked the five steps needed to put himself in front of her. Manny squatted down so that he could see her eye to eye. It was clear how frightened she was by whatever had just happened.

  “Ms. Allen,” he said softly, trying to sound as empathetic as possible, “are you all right?”

  “Stay away from me!” Maureen shouted, turning ninety degrees to put a shoulder to the wall and hide her face in its bricks. Manny could see the single tear she was trying to cover.

  He dutifully backed up a step but stayed crouched, hoping to make her feel more comfortable by not standing over her. He didn’t really have much experience dealing with someone in this state. He sat back for a moment, trying to decide what to do.

  He didn’t have to wait long. With surprising suddenness, Maureen’s body convulsed, and she shot forward toward the low metal toilet in the opposite corner of the cell. A torrent of vomit erupted from her before she could fully position herself above it, with some falling on the floor between her legs. She paused for a moment, panting, before a second wave burst from her. Manny could only watch as the disturbing scene unfolded. It was like watching a drunk girl at a frat party; that was the only other time he’d seen anything like this. The odor of it nearly made him gag.

  He watched as Maureen let out a pained groan and flopped back against the wall, wiping her lips with the back of one hand before wiping her eyes with the palm of the other. She tilted her head back against the wall with her eyes closed and inhaled through her nose, apparently trying to get her breath under control. After a moment, she opened her eyes and stared at him. The pained smile that creased her lips stood in stark contrast to her weary eyes, and the short laugh that escaped her throat dripped with bitterness.

  “I told you to stay away, Detective,” she said weakly. “It wasn’t a pretty sight, was it?” She let her chin fall to her chest and began to rub her temples. “Do you happen to have a handful of aspirin hanging around? Or better yet, something stronger? Maybe something you might have confiscated? Anything you got would be fine.”

  “Contraband is locked up at County.”

  “Remind me to get pinched by someone from County next time,” she responded flatly as she pushed herself to her feet. “Can I at least get a drink of water to wash the vomit taste out of my mouth? Maybe splash my face a bit?”

  Manny looked her up and down for a moment. She was clearly hurting from the experience and was trying to mask it with sarcasm and a spiteful demeanor. It could, of course, all have been an act designed to facilitate an escape, but judging by the way she was swaying unsteadily while she waited for his answer, he didn’t think so. Still, he couldn’t take any chances.

  “Jack,” he called, not moving his eyes from her, even as he heard Officer Collins’ footsteps come up behind him. “Jack, take Ms. Allen to the bathroom and let her wash her face—don’t take your eyes off her—and then take her into the interview room, lock the door, and wait outside for me. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

  Manny watched as Collins led Maureen by the arm around the corner before looking back at the vomit which had missed the toilet. He had plans for that. As quickly as he could, he dashed over to the supply locker, grabbed an evidence bag and gloves, and then ran back to the cell. He knelt down and scooped as much as he could into the bag and sealed it. This would either help his case against her, or completely blow a hole in it.

  On his way to the interview room, he stopped into the break room and grabbed the bottle of aspirin from the first aid kit, stuffed it in his jacket pocket, and poured himself a cup of coffee. The coffee was only lukewarm, so he popped it in the microwave for a minute and was about to head back to Maureen, when he decided to grab a glass of water. No reason to make her suffer needlessly.

  He had to carry the two cups in one hand while holding the evidence bag in the other, but the walk from the break room to the interview room was a short one. Collins was standing outside as requested, though he looked a little annoyed with his babysitting duties. It was understandable. Collins was the only member of the force younger than Manny, but had aced the academy and was known around the office as one of the most ambitious young officers to have come through in quite a while. Having been relegated to night shift guard duty must have seemed like a slap in the face to him, especially with a murder investigation going on. Manny could sympathize, but everyone had to pay their dues.

  “Did she say anything to you?” Manny asked as he walked up to the young officer and looked through the half-blinded window into the interview room. Maureen was sitting at the table much as she had been earlier in the day, leaning back and slouching in the chair pretending to ignore everything around her.

  “Not a word,” returned Collins in a bored tone.

  “Okay, I’ll take another crack at her. Here, take this.” Manny held out the evidence bag.

  “What is that?” the young officer eyed the bag and its contents carefully.

  “Her puke,” said Manny matter-of-factly. He smiled as Collins made a face. “It’s evidence, pal. I need you to call over to County and have someone come and pick it up. Let them know it’s for the Lowes case. I know it’s late, but the admin desk is staffed twenty-four hours. Someone will pick up. Ask them to see if the DNA they pull from this sample matches the DNA from the sample collected at the crime scene. When you’re done, come back here and wait outside just in case I need you. I might be a while, so try to stay awake.”

  “What about the FBI?”

  “I’m sure County will let them know what’s going on,” Manny said, maybe a little too sourly.

  Collins rolled his eyes, but nodded and carefully took the evidence bag.

  “All right, I’m heading in,” said Manny. “Lock the door behind me and don’t open
it unless I knock.”

  Maureen’s head raised as he shut the door behind him. He walked over to the table, put the aspirin bottle and water in front of her, and sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the table. She eyed him carefully as she reached for the bottle and poured out four tablets into her hand. She popped them into her mouth, took a sip of water, and tilted her head back to swallow. Manny nodded and tried his best to keep a pleasant look on his face as he took a sip of coffee. The flavor made it difficult, but its effect was more important than taste at the moment.

  “Are you feeling better, Ms. Allen?” Better to keep it as light as possible. She had a lot of defenses up; he knew that all too well. If he was going to get her to open up, the last thing he needed to do was put her even further back on her heels.

  “I’ve been worse,” she replied. She had retaken her position, slouched back in her chair, rubbing her temples with one hand while the other draped over the back of the chair to support her weight.

  “Well, I thought maybe we could talk about what happened back in the holding cell a few minutes ago?” He phrased it as a question intentionally, hoping the illusion of the choice to answer would make her think she’s controlling the conversation.

  “It was a nightmare, Detective.”

  “About what?”

  She said nothing, so Manny decided to push a bit.

  “It sure looked like more than a nightmare. You were thrashing around on the cot pretty hard. And you were mumbling something in some foreign language. When you woke up, there was fear in your eyes. Then, of course, there’s the incident in the toilet.” He tried to be delicate.

  “You can just say I puked, Detective,” she shot back. “Not like it hasn’t happened before.”

  “Which part?” She wanted to talk; he could feel it. He just had to wait her out.

  She sat still for what seemed like an eternity. It was so quiet that he could hear their breath.

  “Ms. Allen—actually, can I please dispense with formality and call you Maureen?”

  She shrugged.

  “All right, we’ll go with Maureen from now on, and you can call me Manny if it suits you.”

  She shrugged again.

  “Okay, Maureen, this whole thing is starting to get a little weird. First, you ask me some pretty involved questions at the bar, then you mention details about the murder that were not public, and then I find you in Jacob Lowes’ bedroom later that same night. You tell me that you were there because ‘something about all this seemed familiar’, but you decline to offer anything further. And now, I find you writhing around like you’re possessed and vomiting like something out of a horror movie. What am I supposed to make of all this?”

  “I have a condition.” She shrugged, looking at the table. “I appreciate the water, Manny, but do you have something in the neighborhood of whiskey? It helps me medicate.”

  “Maureen, you act as if all this is a normal day for you. Now either you killed that kid or you helped whoever did, or you know who did it and you’re protecting them for some reason! Any way you slice it, you’re going away, so just help yourself out and give me something I can work with!” Her defiance had pushed him over the edge.

  “I already told you. I had nothing to do with it,” she shot back, straightening in her chair and staring him dead in the eye for the first time since he walked into the room. Her breathing had become rapid, and her face was twisted into a pained look, as if his words had stabbed her in the heart. She sat frozen like that for a few agonizing moments before her expression fell, and she cast her eyes back down. “At least, I had nothing to do with it the way that you’re thinking,” she mumbled, almost inaudibly.

  Manny unclenched his fists as he realized he had stood up in his frustration at her defiance. His back was arched and he was leaning over the table, looking at her. He composed himself and sat back down in his chair.

  “All right Maureen, why don’t you tell me what you’re talking about?” He softened his tone one more time, hoping that he hadn’t blown it. “Please,” he added.

  “You won’t believe me anyway, so why bother?”

  “Maureen, tell me!”

  “You’re going to find another kid dead!” she shouted, almost over the top of him. Her words hung in the air.

  “Okay,” Manny said slowly, after a moment. “Let’s say that’s true. How do you know?”

  “My dreams,” she said softly, staring at the table once again. “In the nightmare you saw me having, I was in a field. I’m not sure where, but it has to be close by. I’m looking through someone else’s eyes, like I’m wearing a mask. I can see what they see, feel what they feel. They’re chanting something in a language I don’t know. I feel the words coming from my throat, but it’s not my voice. In front of me, there is a large pile of wood, like a three-, maybe four-foot-tall log cabin. On top, there was a boy laid out. He was blonde, maybe a year or two younger than the other one, no clothes. I can see that his throat is cut, that he’s already dead. The hands come into view, only they’re not my hands. They’re holding a knife with a carved, wooden handle and a long, curved blade. The knife starts cutting into the boy’s stomach, but not in any violent way, more like he’s being dissected. My own thoughts start to filter in, I can’t stand to watch, and it’s like I’m wrestling to pull myself away. The hands keep cutting him open, but everything starts go black. And the next thing I know, I’m awake and staring at you.” Her hand shot out and grabbed the water. Manny could see that, as she lifted it to her lips, her hand was shaking.

  “And did you have a similar nightmare the night that Jacob Lowes was killed?” This was all too incredible, but he had to make it seem that he was open to the possibility of all this being true. If he kept playing along with her, maybe she’d actually give him something that could break this case.

  Maureen nodded. “In that one, I saw the hands put a rag over his mouth and take him right from his bedroom, through the house, and out the back door. There was the same type of a woodpile in the backyard. The same knife was used. It felt as if my own arm was jerking to cut the kid’s throat before I woke up in my apartment.”

  “Where you were alone, with no one to corroborate your story,” Manny finished. He regretted saying that. He didn’t believe for a second that this woman’s dreams somehow predicted the future, or whatever she was driving at. Still, the misstep in his words might lead to her shutting down again.

  “Told you you wouldn’t believe me,” she scoffed bitterly as she took another sip of water, popped another aspirin into her mouth, and swallowed them both together. “It’s not like anyone has ever believed me.” She went back to not looking at him. It was as if she were talking to the table, and he was just there to overhear her end of the conversation. “And why should they? Why would they? It’s ridiculous.” Her voice lowered until the last words were a whisper, and she sat, continuing to stare at the cold metal table, shaking her head.

  A knock at the door broke Manny’s concentration. A wall was breaking in her mind, and he was eager to take advantage of it. Irritated, he turned toward the door, but decided that it could wait. He had to make the most of this opportunity.

  “Maureen—” he began, but another, louder knock at the door cut him off. Manny let out a grunt of frustration and stomped over to the door. “What?” he called out impatiently.

  The door opened, and he was face to face with Officer Collins who jerked his head back and to the side, indicating that he wanted to talk to him out in the hall.

  “A call just came in,” Collins said once he had joined him out there. He opened his mouth to continue, but hesitated.

  “Spit it out,” Manny said impatiently.

  “A fire was spotted in an empty field up on the north side of town. The fire department was dispatched about half an hour ago. They . . . ,” he paused again and lowered his voice. “There was a body in the flames.�
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  Manny felt his eyes widen but made an effort to set his jaw and stay composed. Even so, a tingle shot up his spine, and he cast an eye back toward the room where Maureen sat.

  “Come with me,” he said, moving back toward the interview room. Collins followed.

  Maureen raised her head as they entered the room. Their eyes met. They didn’t speak, but even so, she began to shake her head again.

  “Why?” she mumbled. “Why me?”

  “Collins, get your cuffs out,” he said.

  “Want me to take her back to her cell?”

  Maureen stopped mumbling and raised her eyes to meet his again.

  “No,” said Manny. “I’m going to the crime scene.” He stared steadily back at Maureen. “And I’ll be taking Ms. Allen here with me.”

  TEN

  The detective’s truck bumped along the single-lane road that ran past a stretch of farmland on the outskirts of town. Maureen sat in the passenger’s seat, hands in her lap. The young cop at the station had closed the cold, steel handcuffs too tightly on her wrists. She kept looking down to see if her fingers were turning purple from a lack of circulation. So far, no. In any case, it’s not like she could slip them, so she had no choice but to endure it all for the moment.

  The truck was heading north, so the sun was on Maureen’s side. Its rays, just starting to break over the tree line that formed the eastern boundary of the fields, poured into her eyes. As she looked at the fields, she felt she had been transported to another planet. She knew she was in small-town America, but the world always seemed so strange to her when homes and buildings were spread so far apart. She’d never gotten used to it in her years on the road; so much space for so few people. They couldn’t have been driving for more than ten minutes, and already up the road about a quarter mile she could see the clustering of police vehicles at the crime scene.