The Watson Girl: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller
Page 27
Michowsky holstered his weapon and grabbed the handcuffs. Suddenly, Welsh pivoted and kicked Michowsky in the stomach, while shoving Tess out of his way. Michowsky, bent over, groaned in pain, while Tess, disoriented and weak, had to hold on to the car for balance. When she recovered, Welsh was already far, running fast, about to disappear behind the bushes.
She didn’t hesitate; she pulled the trigger twice, calmly, and watched how Welsh went down and didn’t move. Michowsky rushed over and checked his pulse.
That was the last thing she saw. Too weak to continue standing, she let herself slide against Welsh’s car, until she hit the ground. Feeling grateful for the support, she let herself fall, and felt the coolness of the asphalt against her face.
As in a dream, she heard Michowsky yell in his phone, “I need that ambulance right now, dammit, we have an officer down. You hear me? Now!” Then he crouched next to her and cradled her head on his knees.
“Hang on, partner, they’re coming,” he said, and swallowed with difficulty. “Hang on. Talk to me.”
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “People die hard. Monica…”
“We’ll find her—”
“No,” she interrupted, barely audible, but he stopped talking and listened. “Car’s GPS must have it. Remote… Glades…”
“I don’t know how to—”
“Call… Donovan,” she managed to articulate, then faded away in a world of silence and darkness.
55
Deductive Reasoning
They rolled her with the gurney so fast it made her queasy. She wanted to tell them to slow down, but they didn’t hear her. She tried to speak louder, forced herself, but only a whimper made it out. She gave up and watched the white ceiling tiles alternating with fluorescent, embedded lamps, as they moved by, fast. Too fast.
Lamps… why were lamps important? What was she forgetting? She struggled to remember, but failed, and conceded that fight.
The gurney suddenly stopped, and she thought she recognized Michowsky’s voice.
“How is she?”
“She’s stabilized now, but weak. She’s lost a lot of blood, and she’s still bleeding internally. That XStat saved her life, but she should’ve…” His voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat and changed the topic. He frowned and averted his eyes. “We’ll let you know after the surgery.”
Tess reached out and grabbed the man’s sleeve. Pearson’s head appeared, leaning over the gurney and looking at her. He was frowning and seemed upset. She was in trouble.
“Sorry…” she whispered.
“Winnett, what the hell you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry, sir, I tried…” she managed to say, but Pearson had to come closer to hear her.
“She did,” Michowsky intervened. “She had no choice, but she did try.”
“What?” Pearson asked, frowning deeper.
“Not to kill him,” Michowsky replied.
Pearson scoffed.
The gurney started to roll again, but she flailed her arm. “No,” she said weakly, “Monica?”
“They found her, just like you said,” Michowsky replied. “She’s all right.”
She swallowed hard and licked her dry lips, but it didn’t soothe her. She looked at Pearson intently. “Why did you send me to interview Garza?”
He furrowed his brow and leaned over the gurney, to hear her faint voice.
“Never mind that,” Pearson replied kindly but firmly. “We’ll talk after the surgery.”
“Please… You knew about the Watsons and the others?” she insisted.
“Yes, I did,” Pearson admitted reluctantly, then rolled his eyes.
“Then why send me?” she insisted, feeling weaker. She drew a deep breath, willing her brain to stay alert.
A male nurse wearing a white lab coat waited with a loaded syringe, ready to push it into her IV line. He was growing impatient and made that clear without words. He must have been the one who’d given Michowsky the update earlier.
“Because you can’t trust anyone worth a damn, whether cops or serial killers,” Pearson replied, then signaled the medical team to proceed.
“Then it was you who recalled me,” Tess said, a little louder, and the man stopped short of injecting the contents of the syringe. “If you hadn’t, I would’ve returned from leave after Garza fried.” She summoned her last bit of strength and lifted her head off her pillow an inch or two, searching Pearson’s eyes. “It was you… Am I right?”
Pearson made another gesture toward the man, this time more demanding.
The nurse pushed the plunger, and Tess felt darkness engulf her. Before letting herself sink into an all-forgiving sleep, she heard Pearson’s voice once more, clearly at first.
“Jeez, Winnett, just shut up already.” He then turned toward the nurse, his voice fading away with the rest of her world, but she thought she heard him say, “She’s amazing, you know. Take good care of her.”
~~ The End ~~
Read on for a preview from:
Executive
A rookie private investigator. An unexpected killer. Espionage, current technology, warfare, and a hint of greed.
~~~~~~~~
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Preview: Executive
EXECUTIVE
Leslie Wolfe
A Novel
*** PREVIEW ***
...Chapter 1: Beginnings
...Thursday, March 25, 9:42AM
...Corporate Park Building, Third Floor
...Irvine, California
"I checked her out, and everything is just as expected." Steve pushed a thin file over the large desk, toward his boss. The man took it and flipped carefully through the pages, mumbling his agreement to the various things he was reading.
"Is she available yet?"
"No, sir, waiting for your approval."
The man gave the file and the photo attached to it another thoughtful look.
"Do you think she's ready?"
"No, sir," Steve answered. "But she could be, with a little bit of time and effort."
"She's so young," the man said, "so young. I hope we're right about this."
"She's not any younger than I was when I met you," Steve replied.
"True."
The man stood up and paced the floor for a few minutes, looking out the windows of his office. The sun was climbing in the sky, inundating their world with the crisp morning light. Everything would turn out all right.
"OK, please proceed."
Steve could hear the smile in his voice.
...Chapter 2: Blackmailed
...Friday, April 2, 11:13AM
...Traveling Tech Corporate Offices
...San Diego, California
"I can't do that. We're talking about one of the best tech support analysts I have ever had." George Auster's chubby face was sweating heavily, while trying to persuade his visitor.
His morning was turning into a nightmare that he could not begin to comprehend. The man standing in front of him was not willing to negotiate. This man had stepped through the door, put a picture on his desk, and looked him s
traight in the eye.
"She has to go. You have 48 hours. Or you lose everything."
He had no choice.
...Chapter 3: Job Search
...Saturday, April 10, 6:22PM
...Ridgeview Apartments
...San Diego, California
Your next opportunity awaits.
"I definitely hope so," Alex mumbled, waiting for a new search page to load, while staring at the promising slogan of yet another job board.
With little patience for what she was doing, and in desperate need of a job, Alex was browsing page after page of countless job postings, reading ads, and looking for possible fits. With rent due in just two weeks' time and no money left in the bank, she was considering a variety of jobs, spanning from boring-to-death customer service to marketing, but not ignoring any other available options. It was no longer the issue of making the right career choice; it was about survival and paying the bills.
At 29, she was living alone in a small two-bedroom apartment that looked like a war zone. Not preoccupied by the appearance of her home, she had furnished the apartment with a bizarre selection of items, all serving the purpose of functionality. She had focused on what she needed at particular stages in her life, with no consideration given to furniture styles or colors.
Her desk was huge, quite old, and made of solid wood. It had two sets of drawers, one on each side. Not one square inch of the desk's surface was visible, as it was covered with bills, handwritten notes, and office equipment. Her computer took most of the available space, together with a modem, two printers, a scanner, and a phone, all connected by numerous intertwined wires.
The past few days had been carbon copies of one another— search after search, application after application. She had no choice but to keep going.
...Chapter 4: Timing
...Friday, April 16, 8:40AM
...Corporate Park Building, Third Floor
...Irvine, California
"She's available and running out of money."
"Good. Place the ad in a couple of days. Let me know the minute she sees it."
...Chapter 5: Labor of Desperation
...Tuesday, April 20, 5:17PM
...Ridgeview Apartments
...San Diego, California
Her chair looked as if it had been taken from a high-end, downtown office setting—black, massive, and all leather, in total contrast to the rest of the room. Leaning comfortably back in it, Alex was reviewing job posting after job posting, and applying to whatever would have had even the slightest chance of landing her an interview. Although she was quickly going through the ads, one caught her attention.
The Agency is looking for highly motivated, independent individual, possessing a variety of business skills and an adventurous spirit. Please email résumé.
"That's weird. The Agency? What kind of name is that?" Alex said out loud, breaking the silence. That had to be just another recruiter. The email address was a Yahoo account, and, without giving it much thought, she submitted her résumé and moved to the next ad.
Seconds later, a familiar sound let her know that she had new email. One look at the sender's name and she opened it right away.
From: The Agency
Subject: Received Application
Thank you for your application.
In order to perform an assessment of your skills, please click on the link below and complete the form. Please note that this process will take at least an hour of your time. Please give truthful answers to all questions, and indicate all the skills you possess. We will carefully review your online application. If selected to move forward in this recruiting process, we will be in contact with you.
"Oh, no, not another form," Alex cried. Most online recruiting forms had proven to be nothing but wasted time, without any benefit for her. Spending an average of 15 minutes on each online application form—creating profiles, usernames, and passwords for a variety of companies—was like shooting herself in the foot. She needed to spend less than one minute on each ad, because of the high volume of ads she had to browse every day. "And this has to be way worse, they say it takes at least a full hour," she complained, but there was no one there to hear her. "You have got to be kidding me . . ." Continuing to grumble, she clicked on the link indicated in the email. A browser page opened up.
Thank you for giving The Agency an hour of your time, the message read.
"Oh, we're not there yet, pal. I've only given you 15 seconds so far," Alex replied to the written text, as she continued reading.
Please grab a cup of coffee, and let's proceed.
"OK." Smiling at the thought of having a conversation with an online recruiting form, Alex rose and went into the kitchen. Seconds later, she came back to her black leather chair, carrying a large, steaming cup of coffee. "Got it, what else do you want from me?" She clicked next.
If you promise total honesty, I promise a recruiting process without any bullshit, the following page stated.
"Oh, that's fresh. That's totally new," Alex laughed. In an environment in which getting a job depended on how well you replied to some well-known questions by giving some well-known answers, the whole interviewing process seemed to her like a bad joke, told repeatedly. She was amazed at how most people refused to deal with intelligent, innovative people, preferring instead a standard, already-know-the-answer person, showing little initiative and absolutely no spark.
An old college buddy of hers was currently working as a human resources specialist for a big bank. She had taught Alex a few tricks and explained that recruiters look for specific indicators, such as no turnover of jobs without spending at least two years in the same company, no "empty time" between jobs, and no varied experience—the applicant should only reflect experience in the specific field of the job applied for. Therefore, if Alex wanted to apply for a customer-service position, she had a better chance to get that interview by listing only customer-service experience. Thanks to Leah, and to her own intuition, she was easily getting interview invitations.
With her curiosity at a peak level, she clicked next again.
Now that I have your full attention, let's start. Please select all options applicable to you.
The first page was the most bizarre selection ever put together. There was an endless list of skills and questions, grouped by categories. Next to each entry, there was a small check box, positioned next to an available option. By clicking in the box, a check mark would appear, indicating the respective statement was applicable or true. On the upper right corner of the Web page, a progress bar displayed that this was the first page out of 26.
"One hour? I might be fast, but I think you guys are trying to hire Superman." She took a long sip of coffee and started clicking.
...Chapter 6: Hooked
...Tuesday, April 20, 5:19PM
...Corporate Park Building, Third Floor
...Irvine, California
"She's online now, sir."
"I'll be right there."
...Chapter 7: The Form
...Tuesday, April 20, 5:29PM
...Ridgeview Apartments
...San Diego, California
The first category was listed under the title "About Yourself." Alex had options for everything that could describe her, such as height, build, hair color, and style. To her surprise, there were also boxes to check about age, gender, place of birth, race, and other questions considered illegal under current labor laws. She dutifully completed each one.
The form continued with a questionnaire meant to assess the IQ level of the candidate. Although dealing with the job market quite often, Alex had almost never run into intelligence testing. One thing was certain: this was no ordinary application form, and Alex had a growing desire to meet the people behind this original selection process. Suddenly, she found herself wondering what kind of job would require such a detailed and unique application.
...Chapter 8: The Wrong Candidate
...Tuesday, April 20, 5:40PM
...C
entroTech Resources Corporate Offices
...San Diego, California
"What?" The HR director could not understand. "Are you telling me I cannot hire this person? Why? Who are you?" She was getting frustrated, and her voice was showing it.
The man in front of her, without saying a word, slowly pulled a wallet from his pocket, opened it, and put it in front of the director's bewildered eyes. She recognized a Federal Bureau of Investigation badge. Her voice dropped to a whisper and her head slowly nodded in compliance.
"As you wish."
...Chapter 9: Another Page
...Tuesday, April 20, 6:42PM
...Ridgeview Apartments
...San Diego, California
New category: Language Skills. This time, she had to type the words herself.
Please indicate the languages you speak fluently.
English, Italian, German.
Please indicate the languages in which you can sustain a minimal conversation.
Spanish, French.
Please indicate the languages you can understand or speak a minimum of 15 words or short phrases.
Weird, Alex thought. She typed: Russian, Polish, Hindi, Punjabi, Arabic.
Please indicate the countries to which you have traveled.
"Are they recruiting for the CIA? Is that it? The Agency? Who are these people?" Her own voice, breaking the silence in her apartment, startled her.