Yet, in spite of the horrors of war and the pain of losing friends in combat, he did not feel particularly jaded. He had seen man’s inhumanity to man firsthand — but he had also seen random acts of kindness that restored one’s belief that, despite the evil in the world, pockets of goodness also flourish. No goodness existed in the report that he had just watched.
He felt an unfamiliar hatred rising up inside of him. A hatred of all things unfair, all things corrupt. A righteous indignation. For the first time in his life, he was the direct target of a horrible, and deliberate, injustice.
The evidence pointed toward someone, something, working behind the scenes, not only to sidetrack the Briggs investigation, but now to personally destroy him. Some force that seemed to go beyond simple criminal activity. He could not name it, but it was there. He felt it, and he had become its target.
He reached a quick and simple decision. Whatever person, persons, or power it was, he would face it head on and defeat it, regardless of the personal cost. He would destroy it, or it would have to kill him. No compromise. He would be relentless, even ruthless if necessary. He would track the evil down and stop it — or he would die trying.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
A frustrated Kevin Williams listened to the voices. They had kept quiet for a while, but when they finally spoke they were not nice. As a matter of fact, they had become decidedly unfriendly since his failure to stop the Highway Patrol Trooper. It’s not my fault.
He knew they could hear his thoughts. I did what you asked. It’s not fair to blame me for the bastard’s dumb luck.
It amazed Kevin, that Stormtrooper Demore could be so damn lucky. I can’t be held responsible for someone else’s luck. It isn’t fair.
Kat had tried to call him. Her cell number showed up on his caller ID, but he was afraid to speak to her. He let the call roll over to his voice mail. He had not even checked to see what she had said.
Martha, from the occult supply store, had also called him, but he did not want to talk to her either. Now, the voices were calling him. In his head. Calling him names. He wanted them to quit, to go away, but they lived in his head and had no apparent interest in going somewhere else. He tried to explain his new plan to get Demore, but they did not want to listen.
“Moron. Coward. Idiot,” they said.
Those were the nice words. They shouted down Kevin’s own thoughts, and as they continued, the names got uglier, the language more vulgar. Kevin, in his mind, yelled back. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
Kevin tried to drown them out with his thoughts as he drove along the access road. Damn you all. Damn you. Damn you. Damn you. Leave me alone.
He patrolled along the beach, looking for some relief from the frustration that had been, and was still, building. He needed to feel good again. There was only one way for that to happen. Only one thing really made him feel good.
The afternoon sun splashed into the gulf, sinking slowly into the horizon. Soft waves kissed the mostly deserted sand, the summer people already having left for the season. Kevin actually preferred the summer people. They were more likely to be too trusting, less cautious. Loosened up by near-naked, sun-ripened sexuality and copious quantities of alcohol. It would also be more difficult for the authorities to coordinate an investigation with the family of some unlucky victim if that family lived hundreds of miles away. It had been a long while since Kevin had patrolled this section of beach.
“Incompetent. Loser. Impotent fool.” The voices continued their rant. Even the principal voice, the seeming leader of the group, had joined the chorus. Kevin fought back. I have a plan, damnit. I’ll show you who is impotent.
Tonight he would regain their respect. He turned left onto a shell driveway that led to a more secluded section of beach. Palm trees and shrubs helped to isolate the small beach park from the main access road. Ahead, next to a cinder block bathhouse, a compact car sat stranded with its hood up. A girl wearing shorts and a bikini top stood alone looking at the engine compartment. Kevin drove the van just past her and pulled up to the north side of her car. The voices quieted.
The girl stood no more than five feet tall. Very pretty, with ample breasts and slightly thick legs. She had a built-to-please look that delighted Kevin. Ripe for the harvest.
Kevin smiled as he looked around the area. No other vehicles and no other people in sight. The voices began talking again, a little nicer this time. He teased them. You like her, don’t you, boys?
A cacophony of lustful cries echoed through Kevin’s brain. The sensation in his groin belayed their earlier accusations of impotence. Kevin had a question for the voices. His turn to torment. You want me to have her, don’t you? To do her over and over.
Their lustful cries and groans pleased Kevin. He continued to tease them, this time speaking aloud.
“Be nice to me and it will be nice for you,” Kevin told them.
He put on his game face and got out of the van. The girl watched him with a mixture of concern and expectation. Kevin smiled his best I-am-here-to-rescue-you smile. The sounds of demonic glee filled his head. Kevin’s thoughts teased them some more and the voices laughed with wicked delight. You’re going to love what I do to this one.
***
The girl watched a man get out of a van that looked like a throwback to the Seventies. She felt a slight sense of concern, but the fact that someone had shown up tempered that feeling. She had burned up her cell phone battery two hours earlier, sitting in the sun, getting a tan, texting, and talking to friends. She had no classes today, and even this early in the term, studying bored her. She welcomed the midweek beach trip as a refuge from the usual grind of a first-year college student.
The man who got out of the van was short and a little weird-looking, but he smiled and did not look particularly dangerous. Actually, he was not that much taller than she was. He wore a pair of khaki cargo pants and a tight T-shirt with a popular kids’ cartoon character on the front. Nothing sinister.
“Can’t get it started?” he asked.
Nothing threatening in his voice, either. He was not dangerous, she decided, just a short, weird, Good Samaritan.
“I think I ran out of gas and I ran my cell phone down a couple of hours ago. I am so embarrassed.”
She gave him her cutest can-you-help-me-please smile.
“Let me have your keys,” Kevin told her.
She was not sure why, but she felt compelled to do what he asked. She gave him her keys.
He took the keys, slid into the driver’s seat, and turned them in the ignition. The engine tried to turn over, but the car did not start. He tried a second time, cranking the engine until it seemed that the battery would run down to nothing. He glanced down at the gas gauge, which rested below the “E.” He got out and closed the driver’s door.
“Yep, out of gas.” he said as he closed the hood.
“Can you give me a ride?” She asked with a hopeful, sweet smile. “I can pay for gas.”
The man smiled back. He seemed pleased to be able to help her.
“Sure, get in the van.”
She went around to the passenger side of the van, opened the door, and climbed in. It surprised her how clean the inside of the van looked. Someone had carpeted and paneled the interior. Not professionally, more of a do-it-yourself look. Decent, but not custom, and certainly not as nice or fancy as the almost-motor home van her parents drove. The inside of this guy’s van had a faint smell of pine disinfectant. At least he was not a pig.
The man climbed in next to her and closed the driver’s door. He hit the power locks from his side. She looked at him, biting her lip, and he must have seen the concern on her face.
“Don’t want you to fall out.”
He smiled at her, put the keys into the ignition, and started the van. The stereo came on as the engine turned over and pumped white-boy, wannabe rap into the cab. She listened to the music for a moment, watching the waves roll in. An offshore wind pushed them toward the beach. She realized he hadn�
��t put the van into gear, and started to turn toward him to say she would really like to get going. At that moment, what must have been a bolt of lightning dropped out of the sky and struck her in the neck.
She spasmed as the current from fifty thousand volts overrode her body’s electrical system. Her vision dimmed as she fought to remain conscious. The lightening disappeared as suddenly as it had come, leaving her numb and unable to move.
Something pricked her arm. Her eyes closed in spite of her efforts to keep them open. She wanted to see what had bitten her. Smack the creature before it escaped. Her body ignored her mind, refusing to respond.
A warm feeling flowed out from the center of what she thought might have been a mosquito bite. Her head lolled around. Not a mosquito bite. Something else.
She knew she was in trouble, but knowing was not enough. Her body refused to respond, even as the man’s hands molested her breasts.
***
Kevin had pushed up her bikini top, exposing her. The Taser had incapacitated her. The shot would keep her that way. He liked the way the girl’s breasts felt. It excited him so see her bare flesh, to touch it. It excited the voices too.
Kevin stopped playing for a moment and climbed between the seats into the back of the van. In the back sat an upholstered box Kevin had bolted to the van’s floor. The carpet on the box matched the carpet that covered the floor.
A high-quality combination lock kept the box secure. Kevin worked the numbers until it released. Reaching inside, he removed a clear plastic tarp, which he spread over the carpeted floor. A low moan came from the girl. The drug he had administered was just strong enough to keep her under control until he could get her into the back of the van and properly secured.
He turned back toward the box and removed several pieces of rope and a long strip of cloth. He closed the box, placed the cloth and the rope on top of its cover, and climbed back into the front seat for the girl. Kevin moved the girl to the back of the van without difficulty.
Before the voices started visiting him, Kevin had always been weak and puny. His physical strength had grown significantly with the arrival of the voices. He had had no problem controlling any of the other women, and a couple of them had been close to six feet tall.
Kevin tied the ropes around her wrists and ankles and secured her spread-eagle to four stainless steel eyebolts fastened to the floor in the four corners of the van. He took the length of cloth from the top of the box and used it to gag the girl. Her eyes popped opened and stared into Kevin’s demon-possessed eyes. The dumb bitch knows. That’s the best part. Too late now, princess.
Kevin straddled her hips, keeping her from struggling against her bonds by clamping his thighs alongside her body. He stared into her terrified eyes as he leaned forward and cut the pushed-up bikini top loose. She tried to talk, to scream, but the gag was too tight. Her eyes entreated him, begging for mercy. Her body shivered and jerked at his touch. Inside his mind, the voices were happy again. Kevin planned to keep them that way.
He looked at the girl’s breasts. The main voice shouted, drowning out the others. He roared inside Kevin’s brain while the other voices went silent. In his mind, he told the main voice his idea, the plan. Kevin giggled as he shared it. He felt giddy. The main voice told Kevin he would help him. Be his friend. His mentor. When they finished with the girl, phase two of Get Jim Demore would begin. Kevin looked at the girl’s terrified face. This is going to be the best one yet.
The voices agreed.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Jim sat in his patrol car and tried to make sense of the past week. What should have been a straightforward investigation had turned into a bizarre series of events filled with even more bizarre characters. A millionaire businessman and his trophy girlfriend, a federal government bureaucrat, a topless dancer, a polite voodoo queen, and a freak-of-nature state employee. All tied together somehow. Maybe.
Jim rubbed his temples. His head felt better right after the explosion than it did now. What was the common thread? What am I missing?
His cell phone interrupted his musing.
“Demore here.” It was the best he could muster.
“Jim, it’s Major Kant.” Her voice sounded serious. Almost grave.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Jim, you’ve been put on administrative leave. Starting today.”
It took Jim a moment to get past the initial shock.
“Damnit, major. They can’t do that. I’m in the middle of an investigation.”
“Jim, this is straight from the director. I don’t have any choice.” Resignation shaded the major’s voice. “Come back to Troop Headquarters. Besides, you’re exhausted. I saw that when you were in my office. You need a break.”
“I need a break in this case, major, not a break from this case. Someone tried to kill me, someone tried to blackmail me, and now the director is pulling me off the case because of some uncomfortable publicity?” Passion replaced fatigue. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I am not going to lay down and let them do me. I need to talk to my union rep.”
“That’s your right, Jim, but the director gave me a direct order. However...” The line went silent for a second. “I waited as long as I could to call you, and today doesn’t end until midnight. You have a few hours. Do what you can do, but at one second past eleven fifty-nine and fifty-nine seconds, you are officially on leave. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, major.” Leave or no leave, I’m not giving up my case.
“Be careful, Jim.” Major Kant cautioned him. “And don’t even think about working on the Briggs’ case while on admin leave. That would be disobeying a direct order from the director. No faster way to end a promising career. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jim replied.
Jim disconnected the call. He had never deliberately disobeyed a direct order. Ever. Not in the Corps, not as a cop. First time in life for everything.
Jim began dialing again. The phone at the other end rang twice before Saffi answered it.
***
The phone rang as Saffi read the subject line of the email, “Unauthorized Lab Tests.” Poop.
She closed the email and answered the phone.
“Crime lab, Stefansen.”
“Got time for dinner?” Jim Demore asked, trying to sound upbeat.
Pleasant surprise.
“I’ll be free in about ten minutes. Everything okay?” Saffi asked.
She sensed the tension underlying Jim’s attempt to be positive.
“They want me to take some vacation. Did you see the news?”
“I’m so sorry, Jim. That reporter is a witch.”
“Yeah, although I think I would have used a ‘b’ instead of a ‘w.’”
As they spoke, Jim’s voice sounded more upbeat.
“Anyway, I need to figure some things out and I thought you might want to help. Maybe we could ask the professor for some extra credit. Crime Solving in a Political Environment 101.”
Saffi laughed. Working at one of the seven Florida Department of Law Enforcement crime labs gave Saffi special insight into the politics of crime solving.
“I like Italian or Chinese. Or Italian and Chinese,” Saffi volunteered. “Pick me up at the lab?”
Saffi could almost hear Jim smile.
“Ten minutes. Bring your appetite.”
“See you in ten. Bye, Trooper Demore,” Saffi said.
She had tried to sound coy. She was not sure she had pulled it off. Maybe she had just sounded stupid. Go ahead Saffi, make a fool of yourself. You have my permission.
Saffi removed her lab coat and headed for the women’s bathroom. She looked at her watch. Ten-minute total makeover.
***
Jim showed up in exactly ten minutes. Not seeing Saffi, he snooped around the lab, careful not to touch anything. Saffi’s section of the lab dealt with blood evidence and DNA. State-of-the-art equipment dotted the room and the lab could have been mistaken for a university research facility.
Spotless and efficient.
Jim peeked into the small office that adjoined the lab. Two desks were crammed into the closet-like space. On one desk sat a picture of Saffi with a group of girls. They stood next to an old school bus. The text on the side of the bus read Gulf Coast Baptist Church. The girls all wore jeans, t-shirts, and happy, smiling expressions. The joy on their faces reminded Jim about how he felt the day he made it into the Highway Patrol Academy. He wondered what was behind their smiles.
He heard the outer door of the lab open and Saffi walked in grinning and looking very pretty. Jeans and a comfortable top created a simple, girl-next-door look. Nothing exotic or deliberately sexy. Just a lovely, all-American girl. Jim found himself moderately smitten.
“I hope you didn’t plan on anything fancy. I didn’t have time to go home and dress up,” Saffi beamed. “I talked to my friend in the blood lab.”
Saffi smiled like a little girl who knew a secret that no one else knew.
“Okay,” Jim replied. “And what do we know?”.
Jim waited for Saffi’s reply, but she just kept on smiling. Must be good news. God, I hope so.
“She verified that you were drugged. Absolute certainty. I called your C.O. and she said they would put out a press release late this afternoon, once she has a copy of the official results. Plus, I have a friend who works at one of the other television stations. He wants to hear your side of the story.”
The weight of the last few days melted away. The truth would be out. No way could the Highway Patrol keep him on leave once they had all the facts. Saffi had really come through for him.
Jim would get the rat bastards behind this mess and then life would be back to normal. At least until Linda called again. A mile-long smile plastered itself to his face. Of course, when Linda called again, nothing said he had to answer the phone.
“I know a great place to get Italian and Chinese that has no problem with jeans...” Jim looked down at himself, “or uniforms.”
The Demon Pool Page 22
