The Ackerman Thrillers Boxset: 1-6

by Ethan Cross

  “I’m sorry I’ve been away so much with work.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t mind. I like being on the road with you where I don’t have to be at school, and I can spend all day working on my Legos. I’ve been able to try out a lot of new ideas that I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.”

  Marcus said, “That’s good, buddy. But it’s still not okay for me to be gone. I should be making more time for you. It’s just that we’ve had a lot going on lately with this case. A lot of things hitting all at once. To be honest, I don’t know if I’m coming or going. But that’s no excuse. I guess I’m just trying to say that even though I haven’t been hanging out with you as much as I would like, I want you to know that it’s not always gonna be like this. And it definitely doesn’t mean that you’re not important to me. You are the most important thing in my world. I want you to know that. I love you, kid.”

  Dylan didn’t look back at him, didn’t pause his building, but the boy said, “I love you too, Daddy.”

  Closing his eyes and thinking of how much of a failure he was as a father, Marcus said, “How about I help you out. Maybe we could put this piece over here.” Then he picked up a large blue Lego and attached it to the flying fortress that Dylan was creating—which reminded Marcus of one of those flying aircraft carriers from the Marvel movies.

  As soon as the block was in place, Dylan began shaking. The boy’s breathing became rapid and his whole body trembled. Dylan snatched the block from his Lego masterpiece and threw it across the room. Through clenched teeth, Dylan said, “That doesn’t go there. I have these things all planned out. What, do you think I’m just sitting here sticking pieces together? No, there’s a certain way that all of it needs to fit together.”

  “Okay, my bad. But it’s really not that big of a deal, buddy. It’s not permanent. I put it there, and you took it off. You don’t need to be so angry about it. That’s the cool thing about Legos. There’s no set way that you have to do it. You can’t make any mistakes when building these things. And if you do, you can just tear it down and build it again. It’s not permanent.”

  “You don’t understand. Can I just get back to work? I’m sure you have a lot of things you need to do on your case.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re so upset. You’re much more important to me than some case, and I—”

  “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll see you later. Love you,” Dylan said, and then he grabbed his iPhone and earbuds and headed for the bathroom.

  Marcus just nodded and watched him go. After Dylan slammed the door and turned on the exhaust fan, Marcus said, “What am I doing wrong, Agent Lee?”

  The young agent raised an eyebrow and said, “Don’t look at me. I don’t even have a cat.”

  “Great, thanks. I’ll leave you to it, but if he starts requesting weapons grade uranium to go into some of his Lego creations, be sure to drop me a text and let me now.”

  “Agent Williams?” she called after him. “Has there been any headway in finding Jerrell? I mean, Agent Fuller?”

  He could hear a tremble in her voice. He said, “The two of you were close, I take it. I didn’t know.”

  “They wouldn’t let me be an active participant in the investigation to find him, because of our … relationship. But I volunteered to help with his case in any way I could, so they gave me this job.”

  After explaining the few twists the investigation had taken, he said, “I can’t promise that we’ll find him alive. Not at this point. But I haven’t given up hope, and I never will.”

  Grabbing him with an unexpected and awkward hug, Agent Lee wiped a tear from her eye and said, “Thank you, Agent Williams. Jerrell is one of the best men I’ve ever known, if anyone could survive something like this, it’s him. And don’t you worry a bit about your boy. I’ll keep him in line, and if anyone wants to get to him, they’ll have to go through me.”

  65

  Corin knew that the man who had repeatedly brutalized her could walk. She had watched him stroll naked toward her a few times in the beginning, but she had quickly learned to close her eyes and find distance. Even then, she heard his bare feet padding into her concrete world.

  So who was the guy in the wheelchair?

  The other girls had already set the table and prepared the meal by the time Sonnequa wheeled Corin into the ornate dining room. A long table covered in a white linen cloth occupied the center of the room. The walls were are a dark, rich wood, and a crystal chandelier hung over the formal place settings.

  Sonnequa had wheeled her up to the table, and the other girls took their assigned seats. Once everyone was in place and silent, The Good Wife left the room and returned, this time pushing a man in a wheelchair. Sonnequa walked with an air of superiority, as if she were escorting royalty. The man in the chair took his spot at the head of the table, with Sonnequa filling the seat at his right hand.

  He was perhaps the most beautiful man Corin had ever seen. An expertly groomed head of sandy-blond hair sat above bright-blue eyes and a combination of other flawless features that would have been the envy of cinematographers everywhere.

  The others seemed to fear and respect this man. They treated him as though this was the Master they had told her about. She had assumed that the Master and the man who had raped her were one and the same, but she also knew that her tormentor could walk.

  Was this really the man in the skull mask playing some kind of sadistic game with her? Was he faking an injury? It had to be a trap of some kind. He was testing her—her obedience, her self-control, her patience, her fear.

  The young Asian girl named Tia, the one with no tongue, served the food to the Master. Corin could taste his dominance hanging over them like a cloud of noxious fumes. The other girls seemed to be holding their breath as the man in the wheelchair savored his first bite and finally said, “My compliments, ladies. Enjoy.”

  He continued eating and the rest of the girls started passing around the porcelain serving trays filled with eggs, potatoes, bacon, biscuits and gravy, sausages, and all manner of rolls and croissants.

  Corin burned to show at least a small gesture of defiance—perhaps ask a question when she knew not to speak, or refuse to eat—but she fought the urge. She needed to play the role of the mouse: quiet, patient, waiting.

  They ate in silence until the man in the wheelchair tossed his napkin atop his plate and said, “As you all know, we have a new addition this morning. Welcome to the table, Corin.”

  In unison, the other girls said, “Welcome to the table.”

  She said nothing. She just stared down at her plastic fork. Maybe she could pierce his eye with it, or ram it into his ear? She didn’t necessarily have to kill him, just slow him down, incapacitate him.

  He said, “You’re now part of something very special, Corin.”

  One of the girls who hadn’t been present the day before—a tall, thin woman with red hair and freckles—began weeping at the end of the table.

  The man in the wheelchair said, “Let’s not be rude, Estelle. This is Corin’s moment.”

  “You killed my baby,” the redhead whispered.

  “Now, my dear, I did no such thing. I would never harm one of my children. We’ve been over this. It wasn’t your fault or mine.”

  “You let him die. You’re a doctor. You could have saved him.”

  “Estelle, you know the rules. If the child doesn’t have the will to survive, then it’s not worthy of life. Your baby was weak. But don’t worry. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future to bear children. Let us not forget that we are only a few days away from going to the Island.”

  “Who are you?” Corin said abruptly, unable to hold back her words any longer.

  He laughed. “She can speak. And this is a time to speak freely, Corin. In answer to your question, I am Dr. Derrick Gladstone. I’m a geneticist and fertility specialist.”

  “What is this place?”

  “The facility is an abandoned luxury resort. There was s
upposed to be a golf course and spa and the whole nine yards. Unfortunately, black mold spread through its heart like a cancer. Board of health condemned the whole place. But don’t worry, the dangerous areas are locked away.”

  “But what is this? What are you trying to do here? And what the hell is the ‘Island’?”

  “The answer to that is quite simple and yet infinitely complex. I’m building a better world, one child at a time. I call it the Eden Project.”

  “You’re insane.”

  Sonnequa snapped, “Show the Master respect!”

  “It’s okay, my dear. This is a time to speak freely. She merely lacks understanding.”

  Corin said, “I understand that this whole thing is about as sick and perverted as it comes. It doesn’t matter what religious message you try to dress it up with.”

  “Religious message? Hardly. I don’t believe in that sort of thing. What I’m doing here is saving the human race.”

  “See, right there. Listen to that statement. Doesn’t that sound a little insane to you.”

  “If spoken by a lesser man, perhaps. Let me explain. First of all, are you acquainted with the basic concepts of evolution?”

  Corin said nothing, but as he spoke, she slipped a plastic fork from the table and concealed it beside her leg.

  “Crash course. Evolution 101. The core idea is that all species evolved to what they are today by means of natural selection. Now, natural selection is very observable in nature. I could quote you many clearly defined cases from the classic examples of the peppered moths during the Industrial Revolution to Darwin’s finches to Italian wall lizards and the cane toads in Australia. All examples of species adapting to better survive in their environments. You may have heard that ‘only the strong survive,’ but that’s not necessarily the case. Oftentimes, it’s genetic mutation or viral outbreak or some other random factor that determines which distinct subset of a population will survive. Unfortunately, our species has created a society where the poor and ignorant are those most likely to reproduce.”

  “What are you planning to do? Release a virus to kill the world and create your own Noah’s Ark?”

  “Nothing quite so dramatic. No, I’m not trying to kill the world. I’m merely attempting to right the ship. You see, all living things evolve. The difference between humankind and any other species in history is that we have the knowledge and means to affect our own evolutionary course for the better. How do we do that? It’s very simple. We control breeding.”

  “One guy and a few sex slaves can’t influence humankind.”

  “First of all, you’re not slaves. You’re the Chosen.”

  “Chosen by who?”

  “By your genes, and by your will to survive. Everyone at this table has been tested thoroughly using the most advanced genetic screenings available. We are all free from genetic markers causing disease or defect. As you can see by the diversity, this has nothing to do with the color of one’s skin. I could care less if two hundred years from now the Caucasian race is a small minority. All I care about is that the individuals who are in the majority are healthy, well-educated, productive members of society.”

  “So you’re basically trying to rape humankind as a whole … That’s wonderful. I’ll kill myself before I let my DNA become part of this insanity.”

  Derrick wheeled away from the table and pushed himself closer to her. “I don’t think you have suicide in you, Corin. You’re a fighter. Unlike your mother.”

  “What the hell do you know about my mother?”

  “I know everything about you, Corin. I know who you really are and all that you’ve done. Everyone at this table is a survivor. By whatever means necessary. That’s the kind of people I need to correct the evolutionary destiny of our species.”

  She wondered what he really knew. Her mother’s suicide was public record. He could have gotten that information from newspaper archives. But there was no way that he could truly know all that she’d done to survive over the years.

  Derrick said, “My plans go much farther than merely this compound. But consider this before you decide the issue of my sanity and the validity of my plans. About eight percent of men in Asia can trace their lineage back to the great Genghis Khan, a personal hero of mine. He reportedly fathered hundreds of children, but that doesn’t always correlate with a strong genetic legacy. After all, fathering a multitude of sons doesn’t always mean that those sons will sire their own multitudes of offspring. Establishment of such successful lineages often relies on social systems that allow powerful men to father heirs with many women. Unfortunately, most societies which present the necessary circumstances are considered barbaric by the modern world. So I decided that the only way to move forward was to form my own society. From the ground up. And through technology and the current crumbling of our culture, I intend to leave an even broader legacy than the great Khan.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “Am I? Why is that?”

  “What you’re doing is wrong.”

  “How do you define right and wrong, Corin?”

  “It’s pretty widely accepted that kidnap and rape are wrong.”

  “Right and wrong are religious concepts. In order for something to be ‘right,’ there has to be an inherent measuring stick by which one assesses what is right and what is wrong. For many, that’s where God comes in, but the truth is that we are nothing. Mankind is but an enlightened animal with a tendency toward delusions of grandeur. If you want something in this world, you have to take it. You see, ‘only the strong survive’ actually isn’t anything that Darwin ever said or even a core concept of evolution. But on a personal level, on the level of our individual generation, it’s still the truth of a finite, mortal existence. The law of the jungle. The strong prey on the weak. And if I’m strong enough to affect the genetic destiny of our entire species for the better, then why is it wrong for me to do so?”

  “They’re going to catch you. It’s not just wrong. It’s illegal.” Corin turned her wheelchair to face his, her muscles coiled and ready to strike.

  Derrick smiled. “The police or feds or whoever are welcome to try and stop me. If I’m not strong enough and smart enough to carry out my plans, then I don’t deserve to be the genetic father of millions. You see, I intend to …”

  She had heard enough.

  While he basked in his own glory, she readied her weapon. Then, picking her moment, Corin lunged forward and grabbed him by his perfect mane of golden hair while thrusting the end of the plastic fork toward his ear.

  66

  Baxter’s memory of Detective Natalie Ferrera was of a woman a bit younger and a few pounds lighter, but his former partner was as still as beautiful as ever. Her skin reminded him of white-sand beaches after the tide came in—pure, moist. Natalie was born in Cuba, but her parents had defected when she was in junior high. He had often thought of her family, washed up on a Florida beach like a message in a bottle.

  Natalie wore a red blouse beneath a coal-black pantsuit. As she approached, she caught him admiring her. He could see it in her eyes. The beautiful brown mirrors to her soul filled with a warmth that he remembered fondly. But then her memory must have landed on one of the bad times because her eyes went cold.

  Beside him, Jenny said, “That’s your old partner? She’s gorgeous.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “You ever hit that?”

  Baxter had tried to talk Jenny out of coming along to the police station, but it was her day off, and he couldn’t find an adequate explanation for wanting to leave her behind. He didn’t know why he should feel awkward. Jenny wasn’t his girlfriend. She was just his secretary, apprentice, or whatever. And Natalie was no longer his partner. She hadn’t been for quite some time.

  In response to her blunt question, he smiled over at Jenny and winked. “A gentleman never tells.”

  Detective Ferrera reached them and immediately said, “I don’t need your shit today, Baxter. This had better be good.”

/>   “With me, darling, it’s always good.”

  Natalie rolled her eyes. “Except when it’s bad. I remember a lot of bad, Bax.”

  He glanced over at Jenny who was still questioning him with her eyes. “Well, I suppose this is kind of a bad case, but it’s a hell of a good lead.”

  “I’ll bite. A lead on what?”

  “An abduction. Girl’s name is Corin Campbell. It’s one of your cases, kiddo.”

  “Cut to the chase. What do you want for it? You need a favor or something?”

  “I want full access to the case.”

  Jenny said, “We want full access.”

  “My apologies, Jennifer. May I introduce Detective Natalie Ferrera, and Nat, this is Jennifer Vasillo. She’s my … apprentice.”

  “Partner,” Jenny said.

  Natalie grunted and looked Jenny up and down. “Good luck with that, little girl.”

  Jenny attacked Nat with her eyes. Before things got out of hand, Baxter said, “This is the kind of lead that solves a case. I could pursue it on my own, which is what my client is paying me to do. But I figured that we might as well work together and possibly save this poor kid’s life.”

  Nat’s gaze finally shifted from Jenny back to him. She said, “Don’t try to manipulate me, Bax. If you don’t inform us of something that could help save a life, then I would feel obliged to arrest you as an accessory.”

  Baxter chuckled. “I always love it when you talk all professional like that, but as you said, let’s cut to the chase. I’ll give you the info. You know I will. Even if you shut me out. You have resources I don’t. Ones this case needs. But I have resources you don’t. Somebody else is paying my bill. Why not let me help you for free? You need me on this.”

  Shaking her head and grinding her teeth, which he recognized as her tell for reluctant acceptance, she said, “Fine. I’ll let you in. But it’s your eyes only. Lose the girl.”