“Randy won’t be coming back. Call the police and tell them the truth. Tell them he knocked you out. I saw him do it. I also watched him toss you in the back of the truck like a bag of trash. Tell the cops I’m just taking out the real trash.”
Lazarus wrote the note in pencil using his left hand. He was fairly ambidextrous, and the writing might get them thinking the kidnapper was left-handed. They would also be confused as to why he left the note.
Lazarus smiled. If he understood police procedure, and he did, the cops would be slow to make headway with no real leads. They’d try to find something on one of the strip mall’s security cameras. If they were lucky enough to get video, they’d be putting out an APB for a redhead driving a white box van. If they got the plates, that would be a dead end. By the time they got all that processed, Lazarus would be back in Rockport.
Lazarus looked over the edge of the bed. When it was clear, he walked slowly to the box truck, got behind the wheel and drove off, taking a different route back to the storage facility.
*****
When Randy came to it was pitch dark. It took him a minute to realize his hands were bound behind him in what felt like handcuffs. His legs were pulled up, secured by another pair of cuffs around his ankles and linked to the cuffs on his hands. His head pounded as if ready to explode, and blood oozed down the left side of his face. Randy’s shoulders felt like they were about to come out of the sockets. Through the pain he realized the truck was moving, bouncing him around, which added to the agony. Recognizing his dire situation Randy screamed. Nothing came out. There was a rag in his mouth, held in place with duct tape. Panic set in and he passed out.
Back in the storage facility, it was time for Lazarus to feed the dark side of his soul. He changed out of his disguise and into a Tyvek jump suit, booties and a hair net before opening the back of the truck. Lazarus was in no hurry. He stood there, smoking a Gurkha Beast, his personal favorite for the business at hand. Lazarus patiently watched the unconscious man he now knew as Randall Edwards of Katy, Texas. It was 30 minutes before Edwards finally came to.
Lazarus smiled as he climbed up into the truck, pulling a cable with a large carabineer attached to the end. “Hello, Randall,” he said with his dead-eyed smile. “May I call you, Randall? It seems more fitting then Randy under the circumstances.”
Edwards stared at him, his eyes filled with terror.
“Ah, I forgot you can’t speak at the moment. No matter, Randall it is.” He hooked the carabineer to the chain running from Edward’s hands to his feet and tugged on it. Randy moaned with pain. “Now I’m going to be honest with you, Randall. This is going to hurt, quite a bit to be honest. It’s unavoidable. It’s going to hurt more than any beating you ever delivered. Far more painful than the broken jaw you gave the young lady in the parking lot.” Lazarus spoke soothingly, although what he said was anything but.
Climbing down from the truck, Lazarus picked up a control box from the bumper. He pushed the green button and a motor began to whine. Randy was wondering what the sound was when the cable tightened, dragging him towards the door. The pain was excruciating on his shoulders and legs. Randy screamed into the gag before passing out again.
*****
Randy slowly opened his eyes. He was hanging naked from a chain, his feet dangling 6 inches above the concrete floor. He noticed the gag was gone about the same time he spotted the now naked stranger pulling two heavy steel doors together.
“Feel free to scream, Randall,” said Lazarus, “I would, although it won’t matter. These walls are two feet thick. I could set off a grenade and they wouldn’t hear it on the other side of the insulated steel doors.”
Randy tried to say something but couldn’t get the words out. He shook his head, pleading with his eyes.
“It’s too late for forgiveness, Randall. It’s judgment day. I’ve decided you lack any redeeming quality that would benefit the world by your continued existence.” Lazarus spoke as though talking to a child.
Randy followed the strange apparition with his eyes. He watched Lazarus walk to a corner of the room and retrieve something off the counter, but he couldn’t tell what it was. Lazarus stopped in front of Randy, uncoiling an 8’ bull whip. There was something on the end of the whip, a small metal strip. It was narrow and bent to 90 degrees, creating a sharp hook.
The deeply disturbing image of the naked man, smiling with a bullwhip in his hand, would be the image Randy carried into the abyss. He screamed in agony and terror as Lazarus began to shred his skin away, one thin piece at a time. It was two hours before this agent of death put Randy out of his misery, wrapping the bullwhip around his throat and choking the life out of Randall Edwards, formerly of Katy, Texas.
*****
It took about 30 minutes to cut up the body with the band saw he kept in the bay. It took another hour or so to store the pieces under the Rover. Lazarus had sliced Edwards’ body into one-foot chunks, placing each in a large zip-loc bag. The size of the pieces had much to do with how he would get rid of the remains. In this case, Lazarus was going to use one of Mother Nature’s finest disposal units, the American alligator. The smaller pieces would get eaten quickly. Those that didn’t would get picked clean by the crabs, shrimp and scavenger fish.
Lazarus had packed the 20 plus bags in the hidden compartments beneath the Rover. He’d added a cooling system for the storage areas when the truck was modified. With the engine running, it kept the temperature in the bins at 40 degrees. Important if you are transporting dead flesh.
The last thing to be done was cleaning the bay and wiping down the truck. There was little chance he’d left any prints, Lazarus always wore gloves when hunting. He went over everything anyway. He didn’t get where he was by taking chances when it came to trace evidence. Lazarus was dressed in a full haz-mat suit, including a respirator, for the cleanup. The chemicals he used were industrial quality, and caustic as hell. They removed any traces of DNA in the bay or on the band saw.
When he was satisfied, Lazarus took off the suit, gathered up the whip, Edwards’ clothing, the uniform he had worn and anything else that he’d come into contact with. He also included Edwards’ severed hands, loading it all into the furnace and firing it up to 1700 degrees.
Lazarus had added 4 air scrubbers to the exhaust stack when installing the furnace. What little smoke drifted from the stack was almost completely dissipated by the time it reached the exhaust fan in the gable end.
*****
Lazarus took TX288 south out of Houston, bound for Brazos Bend at around 8:00. The state park had one of the largest populations of alligators in the Houston area and it was on his way to Rockport. Finding places to dump the bags wasn’t difficult. There were few visitors in the park at that time of the day. Lazarus set up a camera and waited them out if necessary, to get the privacy needed to dump the remains.
He opened each bag, sometimes adding a fairly large rock before tossing them in the water. Several of the bags were snagged within seconds. The rocks rarely made it into the digestive system, but if they did, they would pass through. Alligators have been known to eat license plates, so rocks weren’t that much of a hazard as far as Lazarus was concerned. He got rid of almost two-thirds of Edwards at Brazos Bend before getting back on the road. His next stop would be the Aransas Wildlife Refuge on San Antonio Bay, home to some of the most aggressive alligators in Texas.
It took longer to finish disposing the body parts at the Refuge. There were more visitors in the park, and fewer remote places. Lazarus was in no hurry, biding his time and slipping in a picnic lunch with the last of the sandwiches and sodas he’d bought at Buc-ee’s.
Lazarus dumped four of the bags containing internal organs in the long grass and brackish water along Heron trail. There were three large gators visible where he emptied them. The last five he tossed out along the loop running east from the observation tower. Lazarus wasn’t concerned about someone finding the body parts in the heavy brush that lined the road. Most wouldn�
��t recognize them as human remains. In addition to the alligators, the refuge was swarming with feral hogs, a more than adequate disposal system of their own.
*****
Lazarus was back on the road at 3:00 heading south, stopping to eat some BBQ on the north side of Rockport before returning to the motel. It was after 5:00 by the time he got to the room. He took a long hot shower and climbed into bed. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. Lazarus slept soundly for 10 hours, dreaming of Angelique.
Chapter Seventeen
When Lazarus awoke, his thoughts and feelings for Angelique remained detached. He had business to attend to with her husband, and he couldn’t afford the distraction, not yet. He needed to recover from the hunt in Houston, too.
There was little chance of anyone connecting him to the murder, but he checked the news anyway. He found an article in the Houston Chronicle he picked up at a 7-11. The story was on the third page. Lazarus wasn’t surprised to see the description of the truck was included. It referenced the Florida plates, but nothing more than the cargo truck was white. The last known location was on Westheimer, heading east out of the shopping center. There was no description of the person or persons who abducted Mr. Edwards. That made the chances of connecting Lazarus very slim.
The police interviewed Randy’s girlfriend, who Lazarus learned was named Tanya Whiting. She told the reporter about being knocked out by Randy, coming to in the back of the pickup with the note and the money. According to the article her jaw had been broken. Randy’s record as an abuser was included. He had a prior arrest for assaulting a former girlfriend and three restraining orders to boot. Lazarus smiled, satisfied that he had selected well for the kill. He believed in Karma, and that sometimes he WAS karma. Consider Randy Edwards for example.
Lazarus tossed the paper after reading the article and never gave the investigation another thought. In his mind, it was a waste of time and energy. Randall Edwards was dead. He had killed him. Lazarus put it in the past and closed the door.
*****
Lazarus spent the next two days building Garza’s trust as Cooper. He drove into Corpus Christi on Friday to meet Garza on the Peoples Street T-Head. They walked along the bay after lunch at Hamilton’s, discussing the details of the plan, particularly Garza’s part.
“First off, we got the money transfer, so that’s outta the way,” said Lazarus. “Now we can git on with the operation.” Enrique nodded, listening closely. “The boss is puttin’ together the itinerary along with a passport, driver’s license, social security and credit cards in yer new name.”
Garza glanced out of the side of his eye. “Is my wife going to find out about any of this?” he asked offhandedly. Lazarus knew it wasn’t casual interest at all.
“Hell no, Enrique,” Lazarus replied. “Why the hell would ya care anyways?”
Garza shrugged his shoulders. “No particular reason. I just wonder how this will affect her in a way.”
“Are ya close, you and the missus?” Lazarus asked. Before Garza could answer he held up his hands, “Sorry ‘bout that, Enrique, it ain’t none a my business.”
“No problem, Cooper. I don’t mind talking about it,” Garza replied. “Angelique and I haven’t shared a bed in over 5 years.” He held up his had to preempt Lazarus from responding. “It’s okay, really it is. I married her because she’s beautiful and was befitting a man of my stature in the community. I was about 20 pounds lighter, and still had all my hair though.” Garza laughed as he ran his hand over the bald spot on top of his head. “She knows I have a mistress here in Corpus and doesn’t seem to care. At least, that’s what the housekeeper told me. I spend one or two nights a week with the girlfriend at the condo on Ocean Drive. Besides, I think sometimes Angelique prefers the company of Rebecca over me anyway.”
“No shit, hoss?” said Lazarus, letting out a long whistle. “Ya ever manage to git in the middle of that?”
Garza laughed at the big cowboy. “I wish,” he responded wistfully. “Rebecca is almost as beautiful as my wife, with a great ass to go with it. Regardless, if they are getting together, they’re keeping it very discreet. I’ve never caught them. Besides, my mistress doesn’t mind if I bring another woman over from time to time to spice things up.”
It was Lazarus’ turn to laugh. “Jesus H., Enrique, yer livin’ the damn dream. So why in the hell do ya want outta here anyways?”
“Los Zapatos,” Garza replied without thinking. “I’ve done something that will cost me my life if they find out before I can disappear.” He was standing on the sidewalk, looking down into Corpus Christi Bay as he spoke. His hands clasped behind his back.
“Bingo!” thought Lazarus, and then asked in a hushed voice, “What happened?”
“I stole money from them.”
Lazarus suspected that was where the 16.7 million came from, now he knew it for certain.
“Damn, Enrique,” said Lazarus, feigning concern. “That’s a damn sure-fire way to git yerself killed.”
Garza nodded his head in response.
They began to walk along the bay, neither speaking as they wound their way around the T-Head. They headed up Peoples Street to the Selena memorial on Shoreline, crossed over Lawrence and came back down past the shrimpers. Many of them were hawking their wares. Enrique stopped to talk to one of the fishermen he seemed to know well, purchasing 5 pounds of fresh shrimp. Lazarus bought a pound and began tossing them one at a time to a brown pelican standing on a nearby pier. The pelican had a large abscess on its neck and one wing was considerably shorter than the other.
The shrimper was pleased to see it. “Thanks buddy. I give him the fish I catch when I can. He can’t fly for shit, and with that growth, whatever the hell it is; he sucks at catchin’ them himself. I’ve been feedin’ him for over a damn year now. Probably the only reason he ain’t dead.” They talked a few more minutes before Garza excused himself, saying he had an appointment to get to.
Lazarus and Garza walked back down the boardwalk and past Harrison’s to the parking lot across from Landry’s. There they shook hands, Lazarus giving Enrique a pat on the shoulder. “Things are gonna start movin’ now, so’s yer gonna need to git ready for what’s acomin’.”
“I’ll be ready, just tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it,” he replied.
“Good. The boss’ll be happy to hear that,” said Lazarus as he got in the Expedition for the drive back to Rockport.
*****
Lazarus made it to the La Quinta in 45 minutes, entering through the main lobby. It was good for the clerks to see him coming and going from time to time. Once in the room, he stripped down for a quick shower. He toweled off and put on a pair of cargo shorts, sandals and a University of Iowa long sleeve tee and headed back down to the Ford. He stopped at the storage facility, swapping vehicles for his Rover, and headed to the house on Cayman.
Lazarus had kept in touch with Angelique during the three days he was gone. He texted her often and called twice to check on Langston and see how things were going. She kidded him about being a worried daddy when it came to Langston. Lazarus didn’t have much of an argument for that one. He walked into the house, surprised to find it empty. There was no sign of Langston; even his food dish was gone. He was heading to the back deck when he spotted a hand-written note on the breakfast bar.
“Welcome home Lazarus. I’m sure you’re wondering where your fierce companion Langston is. We had a sleepover at our house last night. Cheyenne and Langston have become quite comfortable with each other. They’ve taken to play fighting and chasing each other about. We look forward to seeing you, Angelique.”
It was almost 4:00 when Lazarus rang the bell at Garza’s house. Rebecca opened the door after about a minute. “Hello Mr. Solaris,” she said and stepped aside to make way into the home. “She’s out by the pool with the dogs. Please follow me.”
Angelique was lying on one of the lounge chairs in a purple Rio cut bikini and sunglasses. Her hair was pulled up in a loose b
un with a dragon headed stick pin holding it in place. She had a 10” HDX Kindle in her left hand with a martini close by on the right. Cheyenne was sleeping in the chair next to her with Langston lazing on the steps in the pool.
The last part truly puzzled Lazarus. Langston wasn’t known for his fondness of water, yet there he was laying there with his head on a little float. He then noticed Langston was no longer sporting the black studded collar that normally adorned his neck. It had been replaced by a bright green one that was a perfect match for his eyes. Lazarus shook his head. “That has to be Angelique’s doing,” he thought to himself.
Langston saw Lazarus and climbed out of the pool, trotting over to greet him. The first thing he did was shake off the water, nailing Lazarus with most of it. Lazarus just stood there looking at Langston. “Thanks, Langston. I just took a damn shower, ya turd.” Even though Lazarus called the dog a turd, the tone of his voice was light and friendly. Langston responded with a wag of his tail and presented himself for some ear scratching.
Angelique looked up. “Welcome back, Lazarus. By the way, I’ve taken the liberty of securing you a pair of OP trunks – 36” waist. I hope they’ll fit.”
Lazarus grinned, “36 will work just fine. Although it’s 34 for jeans and shorts, if you get another shopping bug.”
Rebecca headed into the house, returning shortly with a pair of blue trunks. “There’s a changing room to the left of the back door.” She pointed it out to Lazarus. He took the shorts and headed to the room.
Angelique watched Lazarus out of the corner of her eye as he returned to the pool. She’d assumed he was in good shape, but he was better than just good. He wasn’t overly muscular, but everything was proportional. He had a nice six-pack stomach and pecs that reminded her of Arnold Schwarzenegger in his younger days. There didn’t seem to be any fat on him. She noticed a scar on Lazarus’ left thigh. It wasn’t clean or neat like a surgical incision, but rather jagged. She was curious but decided not to mention it. The other thing that caught her eye was the tattoo on his upper right arm. The yellow Star of David with Juden overlaid in black. That was something else she would ask about someday. Lazarus dove in the pool, surfacing at the other end and began leisurely swimming laps. He used flip turns at the wall, which surprised Angelique.
Evolution of a Killer Page 10
