“I’m sorry about the Bible-thumper comment,” he said.
Silence, for a moment. Jim finished his coffee and Saffi polished off the last of the sorbet. After a moment, she spoke again.
“It’s getting late. I have an early day tomorrow.”
“Me too. I have an early meeting with Major Kant, my C.O., and I still have a few things I want to look into.”
“You don’t quit, do you?” Saffi chided him, gently.
“I’ve never quit on anything in my life,” Jim said flatly.
It was a matter-of-fact statement. No sense of brag or false bravado. He smiled, lessening the tension.
“Not even the devil himself is going to keep me from closing this case.”
Saffi smiled back, weakly. Poor guy. If this really is demonic, he doesn’t have a clue what he’s up against.
“Maybe there is something supernatural, maybe not. Just in case there is, let me pray for you,” Saffi said.
Jim looked surprised.
“Now?”
Saffi’s smile strengthened. She reached across the table and took his hand. In spite of herself, she liked the feel of his skin against hers.
“It probably feels weird to you, but why take chances? I believe there is a greater power. Let’s see if we can get it on your side.”
“I guess it can’t hurt.”
His hand closed on hers.
“No, it can’t,” She assured him, “and it might actually help. Let us pray.”
***
The demonic network in South Florida had worked itself into a frenzy of activity. Although Baalzaric could not be in two places at one time, he received reports from the various wraiths under his control. Not only were they a legion, but in the supernatural world, they moved at supernatural speed.
Baalzaric, miles away in Tampa, found himself amused by the reports. So, Demore had found a prayer partner. Good luck with that.
Demore reminded him of that fool Father Miguel, the priest who thought he could exorcise Baalzaric from the Spanish Adelantado, Juan Carlos de la Viña. Father Miguel had lost both his life and his soul. Why should Jim Demore fare any better?
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Kevin Williams drove back to the beach after dark. The girl’s car remained parked by itself. In the sky above, the moon peeked out from behind occasional clouds, briefly illuminating the tops of breaking waves. Kevin pulled up beside the girl’s car and turned off the van’s lights.
Call her.
Kevin tried to ignore the voice. He was not ready to talk to Kat.
Call her now.
The other voices joined in. Kevin put his hands over his ears, but the voices continued, one moment whispering, the next moment shouting.
Call her. She needs your help. Call her now.
Kevin cursed. He cursed God, he cursed the voices, he cursed himself. He climbed into the back of the van and pulled the plastic off the girl. Her skin had cooled and Kevin could not feel a pulse. Her open eyes stared vacantly at the van’s roof. Kevin began removing his shoes.
Yes, one more time.
The voices encouraged him.
Then call her.
They nagged him.
Kevin took off the rest of his clothing. The voices’ excitement was almost palpable. He would have the girl one more time, before she got too cold, and then he would obey the voices. He would call Kat and tell her about the plan to deal with Demore. The voices agreed.
***
Trooper Carl Johns was driving home from his last shift with the Highway Patrol before his reserve unit’s deployment. He had wanted to leave early, but some unexpected paperwork kept him busy until just after dark. It was funny how some crap just seemed to come out of nowhere. Carl’s cell phone rang as he drove north, away from downtown Ft. Myers. Carl hit the button on the side of his Bluetooth earpiece.
“Trooper Johns,” he said.
“Hi, baby. You going to be home soon?”
His wife had the sexiest phone voice he’d ever heard.
“Yeah, I’m on the way. Need anything?”
“Just you, baby. I have a surprise for you. Why don’t you take the beach road? Take your time. I need a few extra minutes to get some things ready.”
“One of your special nights? Magic love candles and everything?”
Carl did not buy into his wife’s magic crap, but it seemed harmless enough. Moreover, when the candles got hot, she got hotter.”
“Everything, baby,” she cooed. “See you soon.”
Carl and his wife, a nurse who worked crazier shifts than he did, lived in a turn-of-the-century cottage near the beach. He had spent hundreds of off-duty hours making the house into their dream beach cottage, and this would be their last weekend together in that perfect little house for almost a year. Carl turned onto the access road that led past the beaches.
While the days were still blazing hot, the unseasonably warm weather was finally giving way to cooler evenings. Carl rolled down the driver’s side window and breathed deeply. He drove slowly, not wanting the beach experience to end too soon, in spite of his desire to get home to the surprise his wife had waiting for him. Afghanistan, where his unit would be deploying, was a landlocked hellhole and offered little in the way of niceties.
The early fall sun had already crashed into the Gulf of Mexico, leaving only a faint glow on the horizon. Carl’s headlights illuminated two vehicles parked next to each other in a small beachside parking lot. A small sedan sat parked next to a full-size van. His headlights also illuminated an “overnight parking prohibited” sign. Carl saw no other vehicles and no people. Resisting the urge to simply drive by and call the local sheriff’s office, Carl pulled into the parking lot.
***
Kevin had started dialing Kat when he heard a car approaching. The girl lay in the back of the van, naked, uncovered, and dead. The voices reassured him.
Don’t panic. Be calm. Part of the plan.
They sounded confident. In charge.
Kevin closed his cell phone and grabbed the Taser. He slid it into his pants waistband, leaving his shirt untucked. He reached into the center console and removed the syringe he had used on the girl. He checked to ensure that it had enough of the drug remaining and that he had replaced the needle cap. He placed the syringe in a cargo pocket, opened the van door, and stepped out.
A vehicle pulled up next to the girl’s car. Kevin watched as a large, black man in a Florida Highway Patrol uniform exited the sedan.
“Evening officer,” Kevin said.
The trooper walked around the front of his car and stopped next to the driver’s side window of the girl’s vehicle. He let his flashlight shine into the passenger compartment and then came around to where Kevin was standing next to the van. Kevin smiled and tried to look friendly.
“My friend’s car wouldn’t start and I think she got too much sun or something.”
“Would you mind showing me some ID?”
Without even knowing the officer, Kevin disliked him. The trooper was tall and muscular. He looked like a football player, and Kevin hated football players. He had hated every player on his high school’s football team. The torment he had experienced from them started in junior high and lasted all the way through high school graduation. Even the smart, intellectual players had screwed with him.
“I have my driver’s license and my state employee ID. They’re in my wallet, in my right cargo pocket.”
“Okay. Let’s see them.”
The trooper’s hand rested on his weapon.
“She was feeling dizzy. I’m glad you came by,” Kevin said. “This is a little off the beaten path for the Highway Patrol isn’t it?” Kevin held out his identification. “I usually only see you guys patrolling on I-75. I work over at the District One RTMC.”
The trooper appeared to relax. He took his hand off his gun and reached for Kevin’s documents.
“I live up at the north end of the beach,” Carl said. “Sometimes I drive down here just to enjoy
the fresh air.”
“You don’t by any chance know a Trooper Jim Demore do you?”
“Yeah, I know Jim. He’s a good man. Despite the crap they said on TV. Where’s your friend?”
“In the back of my van. Lying down.”
“Okay, let’s take a look.”
Kevin followed him to the back of the van. The inside curtains covered the back door windows. The trooper tried the handle. Locked.
“Oh, sorry,” Kevin said.
Kevin reached into his cargo pocket and retrieved his keys.
“She climbed back there through the front.”
Kevin unlocked the rear doors and stood back.
***
Carl stepped forward and opened the van’s rear doors. Although Mr. Williams looked a little creepy, he was probably not a bad guy. After all, the date on his state ID showed that he had worked for the state for a number of years, and the State of Florida did not make a habit of hiring complete dirt bags.
Carl’s reaction to the naked girl lying in the back of the van was a split second too late. Something pushed against the back of his neck and a burst of electricity shot through his body. Strength fled his muscles. He was in trouble. He’d been tased. No other possibility.
He reached back but could not budge the hand holding the device. Too weak. He collapsed, falling backward. With his other hand, he tried to unholster his weapon. Nothing. His muscles refused to respond to his brain’s commands.
He went down hard on his back, and the little creep from the van climbed onto his chest. He pressed the Taser against Carl’s neck one more time. Carl felt his body jerk and he watched the moon slide behind a cloud. He saw a syringe flash past his eyes, felt the prick in his neck, and then felt himself slide behind a very dark cloud of his own.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Kevin Williams finally called Kat.
“It’s about time you called me.”
“I’m sorry. Not everything has gone the way I planned.”
“No kidding. I expected more from you Kevin.”
Calling Kat left Kevin conflicted. He hated the tone Kat was using with him. It reminded him of his mother. She would chide him when she caught him in a lie or doing something wrong, and when his father got home, she would tell him everything. The old man would then commence beating the crap out of him. Later, his mother would come into Kevin’s bedroom, lie down next to him, and hold him and whisper to him how he would be a better man for the beatings. Thanks a lot, Mom. That shit really helped.
“I did everything right,” Kevin told Kat. “Nobody should have lived through that blast. The son-of-a-bitch is charmed, but something new has come up. Give me a second. I’ll call you back.” Kevin disconnected.
***
Two minutes passed and Kat’s phone alert sounded. Message from Kevin. It simply read “photo attached.” Kat poked the photo icon with her finger. The little creep is up to something.
The photo opened and showed the back of Williams’ van. One door was open and Kat saw what looked like someone in a Highway Patrol uniform laying in the back. She looked at the tiny picture, thinking that just maybe Kevin had come through for her, but it was not Demore in the photo.
The individual looked to be a black male trussed up tight and his mouth sealed with duct tape. She zoomed in on his face. His eyes were open, looking both afraid and angry at the same time. Even in the small picture, Kat could discern a muscular thickness to his body. She used her finger to zoom out slightly and pan around the photo. It looked as if Kevin had stacked the trooper on top of something. Or someone. Kat looked closer. From what she could see, the other body appeared to be female and nude. The little freak’s been busy. What is he up to?
Kat’s phone rang again. She stabbed the answer button.
“What the hell are you up to?”
“He’s Jim Demore’s friend. I can bring him to you, but I have to move fast. I need to get somewhere safe before they start looking for him.”
***
The plan came to Kat in a single flash of understanding and inspiration.
“There is an old estate near Ft. Myers,” she told Kevin. “I’ll email you a map. Bring your cargo there and don’t get caught. Someone will meet you and let you in. And Kevin,” she paused for effect, “don’t screw this up.”
Kat exercised the power she had over Kevin. Something tangible, alive. Something she could touch, and that reached out and touched him.
“Just be careful,” she continued. “You know the voices don’t like it when you screw up.”
“I have a couple of things to take care of...” Kevin began.
Kat disconnected the call and dialed Bruce. When he answered, Kat heard the background noise of a club. Kat’s voice was sharp.
“Where are you?”
“Where do you think?” Bruce asked.
The sharpness cut both ways.
“I got lonely,” Bruce continued. “Where are you?”
His tone of voice surprised her. So, stupid Bruce wants to be an asshole?
“I need you to do something for me,” Kat said.
“That sounds fair,” Bruce replied, talking over the background music. “I need you to do something for me, too.”
It was impossible to miss the innuendo in Bruce’s voice.
“Okay, Bruce. I’ll do whatever you want, any way you want, anywhere you want.” Kat turned on the seduction. “But, first, you have to help me. I need you Bruce. I was nice to you. Very nice. Now you be nice to me.”
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“I want you to meet someone at the place you took me to. The old estate. His name is Kevin. He’ll be in a van and he has someone with him. Do what he asks and don’t ask any questions. I promise I will make this worth your while.”
“I want you for myself. Exclusive. Me only.”
“Whatever you want, lover. Everything you want, everything you need, everything you deserve.”
“Will I see you there?”
“You’ll see me. I promise.” You’ll see me, alright, and if you screw this thing up, I’ll be the last thing you ever see.
“Now go. You have the Viper?”
“Ah...yeah. How did you know?”
“I just know, Bruce. Hurry, but don’t get stopped.”
Kat hung up and dialed Robert.
***
Kevin Williams stared at his phone. How the hell does she know about the voices?
The reality, of course, was that it didn’t matter. That’s what the voices told him.
“She knows because she knows.”
“She knows because she has the power to know.”
“She knows because we need her to know.”
The other reality was that Kevin did not have time to worry about it. He needed to get the Highway Patrol car out of sight. Behind the bathhouse would work. Not easy to see from the access road.
Kevin moved quickly. He hid the trooper’s car and got his van on the road. No one else had come around. Once far enough away from the beach, he would stop and wait for the email. You’ll thank me for this, Kat.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Bill Joyce sipped his coffee. The small talk had ended. Not that he minded making small talk with Major Kant. She was an attractive woman who somehow managed to remain feminine in spite of a decidedly unfeminine uniform. Joyce wondered if her men took her seriously.
Major Kant picked up her phone and punched a couple of numbers.
“Send Corporal Demore in,” Major Kant ordered.
She hung up the phone and looked at Joyce. Joyce tried not to smile too widely. He was going to enjoy this. Around Florida law enforcement circles, Bill Joyce knew he had a reputation as a prick. And it was true. He could be a prick when he needed to be. But he also had the highest case clearance of any FLDC special agent, and one of the highest in the entire state of Florida. He also knew he had the ability to outthink ninety-nine percent of the population, and he used that ability daily. So he could
afford to be a prick when needed. Or, just whenever.
Someone knocked on the major’s door.
“Come in, Jim,” she said.
The familiarity disappointed Joyce. Shit, she called him Jim. That’s okay. I’m still going to enjoy this.
Joyce watched Demore enter the office. Demore glanced at Joyce before coming to attention in front of the major’s desk. He spoke with perfect military etiquette.
“Corporal Demore reporting as ordered, ma’am.”
Major Kant’s smile looked friendly and familiar.
“At ease, Jim,” she said. Indicating Agent Joyce, she continued, “This is Special Agent Joyce from the Department of Law Enforcement. He is here at the Director’s request. I don’t know if you have met, but Agent Joyce and I go back a few years. He and the director go back even farther.”
“I’ve heard of him, ma’am.”
The lack of enthusiasm in Jim’s voice was not lost on Joyce. Major Kant’s voice remained friendly.
“Have a seat, Jim,” she said.
Jim sat in the chair next to Joyce. In spite of Major Kant’s easy manner, Joyce saw that Demore was uncomfortable.
“Jim, the governor’s office has decided to pull the Briggs’ investigation and hand it off to the Department of Law Enforcement. Agent Joyce owns it now.”
Silence reigned for a moment.
“With all due respect, major, this is bullshit.”
Joyce jumped in.
“Corporal Demore, I hope you realize that not only was Jefferson Briggs one of Florida’s most prominent businessmen, he was a personal friend of the governor. The governor has grave concerns about the progress of your, well, what used to be, your investigation. So now it’s my investigation.”
Joyce smiled his best “Gotcha, bitch” smile.
***
Joyce looked smug and Jim heard echoes of his pinch-faced, third-grade teacher. A condescending, stick of a man who lorded his authority over the children in his class. Jim had grown to hate his third-grade teacher, and he was not feeling warm and fuzzy about Joyce. He listened as Joyce droned on.
“Look, the governor knows the Highway Patrol usually does good work...”
Jim thought that Joyce put too much emphasis on “usually.”
The Demon Pool Page 24
