Flawless Dreams

by Hadena James

  “It is a very good thing you are asexual or you would have a hell of a time getting a date.”

  “I know.” I paused for a moment. “But there was the truck and tractor pull last summer with Caleb. That was a date, everyone told me so.”

  “How’d it end?” Xavier asked.

  “I said goodbye to him as he got out of my car,” I answered.

  “Exactly.” Xavier giggled. “Also, everyone went with the both of you on your date. It was like you two were on a date with a group of people. It was awkward and weird for everyone except you, because you have never figured out what to do with a date.”

  “I enjoyed the truck and tractor pull, what more do people want from me?” I asked.

  “Thankfully, not much in that area.” Caleb said from behind me. “However, it was not the worst date I have ever been on, so I considered it a success.”

  “We might have a location,” Xavier told him.

  “Excellent, I’ll bring weapons and people back from the bunker with me while you two continue to enjoy the sunshine and consider Ace’s terrible dating skills.” Caleb winked as he walked by. I had no idea what it meant, so I frowned. I spent an exorbitant amount of time explaining what asexual meant and that some asexuals enjoy human contact more than others. I did not understand romance, dating, or the desire to be touched. Very few people had made it into my inner circle where touching me didn’t weird me out. Also, I was grossed out by the idea of exchanging bodily fluids with someone. It was hard to explain that to a person without them getting confused.

  There was a strange tension in the SUV. Everyone was quiet. Even the radio was left off. I wasn’t sure if it was because we were hoping to encounter a psychopath at the end of the ride or hoping not to encounter the other psychopath that seemed to appear and disappear into thin air. Or both, which was a very real possibility. I had considered calling in reinforcements, but the other SCTU was in California still dealing with bodiless heads and I didn’t know how adept most police forces were dealing with psychopaths. It was a farm, there might be hostages. Worse, it could be open to the public to do business.

  Besides, if we called in reinforcements, they might beat us there. It was roughly an hour drive to Peculiar. That would tip him off and we would end up chasing him on foot or again, in a hostage situation. Hostage situations with serial killers never ended well. Neither did chases. It was better to surprise them.

  A hand slid down my body, grabbing my gun on my right side. Caleb unholstered the weapon and checked the magazine and chamber. I had already done this, but I understood the precaution. Sometimes, I thought we should be carrying something that fired .50 caliber bullets. We did have a sniper’s rifle that fired exactly that, but it required someone to set it up and take aim. Someone other than me. I wasn’t sniper material, I preferred being up close and personal. The gun was reholstered and he reached across me to get check the left. I did not protest his closeness and I felt nothing physically inviting about it. He was just Caleb, checking my guns. Other women might have swooned, but I wasn’t like other women and I had known that for a long long time.

  The left was reholstered and he pulled out my Taser. It was fully charged too. Finally, he set my baton next to me. The baton had been a gift from Malachi. It was made of a titanium alloy and was light, but stronger than steel. It would crack a skull in a need to situation. There was a button that I pushed to flick it out. It would telescope to three feet. That was three feet I sometimes needed. At five feet three inches, I wasn’t really short for a girl, but I was for most men. Their longer arms were occasionally an issue. The baton evened that up in a fist fight.

  “What’s the plan?” Rachael asked.

  “Oh honey,” Fiona looked at her. “The plan is to help subdue and capture the suspect if he’s on scene. Anything more complicated in the plan and it usually goes wrong. I usually just follow Ace’s lead.”

  “I thought Gabriel was team leader normally?” Rachael sounded confused.

  “He is,” Caleb turned further in his seat, placing his shoulder against me. It was starting to annoy me. “This is how it works. The non-psychopaths provide cover for the psychopaths. Gabriel is team leader, but Aislinn takes point for her team. She can take a few extra hits and bullets before she goes down compared to Gabriel or Fiona. Lucas is another good one to follow. He isn’t a psychopath, but he is physically stout enough that bullets don’t always go all the way through the muscle. Making them more of an irritation than a problem. On our team, Malachi and I separate. You’ll follow me, not him.”

  “Why not him?” Rachael asked.

  “Because Malachi gets distracted easily,” Caleb pursed his lips together. “I don’t.”

  “This is going to be a big place,” Xavier said. “I’ll follow Ace, Rachael follows Caleb, and Fiona works her magic at the car to try and keep track of him digitally.”

  “You don’t think he’ll surrender?” Rachael asked.

  “It’s pretty rare that they surrender. Most likely, he’ll run. Seeing Ace, sometimes makes them take up an offensive position. Most male psychopaths think they can take a woman easily.” Fiona answered. “Even when they recognize that she is a psychopath.”

  “I am not a psychopath,” my voice held a cold edge to it as I bit off the words that came from between my lips.

  “Fine, A-Typical Sociopath,” Fiona corrected herself and I imagined she rolled her eyes.

  “Just make sure not to shoot any of us,” Xavier said. “Especially me, I’m a bleeder. Although, if I’m right, that might help stop our suspect. Maybe we should vote on whether to shoot Ace or Caleb the moment we have him in sight.”

  “But you’re the bleeder,” Caleb smirked.

  “Yeah, let’s just go with not shooting any of us.”

  “This is the part they can’t train you for,” Fiona said. “Until you see a psychopath in a full rage, you can’t understand what they are capable of.”

  “Okay,” Rachael said the word quietly and slowly as if she were thinking about it very hard. Fiona was right. They could show you films, make you watch it over and over, but until it happened in real life, in real time, it was impossible to truly understand. I’d never admit it, but capturing a psychopath that put up a fight was my favorite thing to do.

  Twenty-Two

  There were three men sitting in lawn chairs when we turned into the driveway. They all turned to watch us drive up. Several large boxes were set up in front of them with little things moving between them. I suddenly realized they were open bee hives and stopped the car.

  “Anyone allergic to bees?” I asked.

  “Nope,” Caleb answered.

  “No,” Xavier said.

  “I’m not,” Rachael added.

  “Me either,” Fiona was already opening a small computer that she kept in the SUV.

  “My suggestion, don’t aggravate the hives,” Xavier said.

  “Thanks, Doc,” Caleb snarked and opened his door. I followed suit, stepping onto the driveway almost a hundred yards away from the three chair sitters.

  “US Marshal Aislinn Cain,” I shouted, holding up my badge. “We would like to talk to the owner of the farm.”

  All three men stood up. The one on the left was older, possibly a father or uncle to the other two. The one of the right was young and big. He looked confused, but he also looked like he could play offensive lineman for any NFL team. I had some suspicions about him. The middle one though was tall, blond, and by my best estimation, good looking.

  “Middle,” I whispered to Caleb. He gave a slight nod. Neither of us drew our guns or made any attempt to look threatening. It was possible we were working with a team. The big guy could be doing the killing after the good looking guy lured them back to the farm. Hell, the older guy might be helping display the bones. I wasn’t sure. My gut told me we had the right place though.

  “I’m the owner,” the blond announced. Caleb and I started forward. Xavier and Rachael would step out after we were closer. W
e didn’t want to make it look like we were here enforce. It was all about surprise. If they had been inside, it would have been a different story.

  “We just have a couple of questions about someone that may have been here this week,” I told him as I stepped near a hive. I could hear the buzzing of the bees and smell the new wood. They were replacing the hive boxes. I could also smell compost like I had smelled at the other insect farms. “Do you know this guy?” I held up my phone to show him a picture of Thomas Wering.

  “He was here the other day, buying some goat’s cheese.” The middle one said. “What happened to him?”

  “He died,” Caleb said. “However, in the days leading up to his death, he exchanged several texts with someone who has a phone registered at this location.”

  “I get a thousand messages a day from potential customers.” The blond spread his arms. “We are about the only farm in the area that offers goat’s milk, cheese, and butter, as well as yard raised chickens, and insects for consumption.”

  “Can you tell us when he left?” I asked.

  “No, we were busy that day. Three days a week and every other Saturday we are open to the public. They drive in like it’s a farmer’s market,” the blond answered. “Let me see if I can find his receipt. It should have a time stamp on it.”

  “Thanks, we’d appreciate that.” Caleb said. I heard the car doors behind me open. The blond disappeared into the house.

  “I don’t think I’ve caught anyone’s names,” I said.

  “We didn’t offer them,” the older guy said. He was sizing me up and I could tell. He wouldn’t do anything with Caleb next to me, Caleb was intimidating. He just had this vibe to him. The blond came out of the house.

  “It looks like we had about a hundred people come through that day. If you could provide me with a name or license plate number that might help,” he had a box with hand written receipts in it. There was a card reader attached to a tablet as well.

  “Thomas Wering,” I offered. The blond did something on the tablet.

  “I don’t see that name, but most people pay in cash. I’m good with faces and purchases, but not times. Let’s see, I know he bought goat’s cheese and some beetles. He was making some kind of specialty pasta dish he said.” He began rummaging through the receipts. “Ah, here you go.” He handed me a piece of paper. It was marked with a quarter pound of goat’s cheese and three hundred beetles. The price of both gave me sticker shock. However, more interesting was the fact that his license plate was written down. On most of the receipts, the handwritten license plates were in a different person’s hand than the main receipt. There were about a dozen though that had the same handwriting as the rest of the receipt.

  “You write down license plates?” I asked, showing it to him.

  “Yeah, Charlie likes to do it. He keeps them organized that way. When he’s busy, I do it for him.” The blond answered. The time on the receipt was after seven pm. He’d left his apartment at 5:30. There was no way he was buying cheese and beetles from this guy for a pasta dish. I didn’t care how vogue eating insects were.

  “Thanks, Mr.,” I looked at him questioning.

  “Keirnan Janson. This is my cousin Charlie Janson and my farmhand Lewis Parnell.”

  “Isn’t three hundred beetles a lot?” I asked him, handing back the receipt. My shirt sleeve pulled up and his eyes fell on my hand and lower arm. His face went slack for a moment as he stared. The mask of friendly cooperation gone. Then it was back in an instant.

  “I’m sorry, what did you ask?” He was trying to recompose himself. Caleb tensed. I pulled my arm back, letting the receipt fall to the gravel covered ground.

  “Isn’t that a lot of beetles for a food dish?” Caleb asked, his voice lower as his mask also started to fall.

  “We just sell them, we don’t know what people do with them after that,” Lewis stepped up to us. He placed his hand on Keirnan Janson’s shoulder. “It wasn’t his first time here, he’s been coming every couple of weeks to buy them.”

  “Really?” I asked, looking at the man. He was shorter than Keirnan, obviously not a psychopath and obviously aware that Keirnan was. “Is that true, Charlie, does Thomas come in every couple of weeks to buy them?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am,” Charlie had a slight stutter and he refused to meet my eyes. “Momma always has dinner on the table by 6:30 and if I’m late, I get in trouble.” My com buzzed in my ear. Xavier’s voice told me that Charlie had a traumatic brain injury not a developmental disorder. I nodded to the voice and was sure I looked crazy. However, the situation was getting tense. Keirnan Janson was having trouble not looking at my hands.

  “Hey Charlie, would you do me a favor, please?” I asked him, stepping closer to him. “Would you go to your momma’s house for a little while? I think I heard her calling you.”

  “She can’t call me, I lost my phone again,” he told me.

  “That’s why I think she shouted out the door for you. Why don’t you go with my friend over there,” I pointed to Xavier. “He’ll take you home to your momma.”

  “The work day isn’t done,” Charlie said.

  “I think it’s okay for today if you leave a little early, don’t you Mr. Janson?” I looked very pointedly at Keirnan.

  “Go home Charlie, I’ll see you tomorrow. We have that big order coming in.” Keirnan Janson told his cousin.

  “Okay,” Charlie upended a beer bottle and drained the rest of it out. He put it in his pocket and smiled at me. “We don’t litter around here. It keeps the farm pretty for the customers.”

  “That’s a good idea,” I told him. “My friend’s name is Xavier. He’ll make sure he walks you across the road so you get home safe.” I heard Fiona say “shit” into the com. I ignored her and watched Charlie walk past me. As soon as he reached the SUV, Xavier shook hands with Charlie Janson and smiled. Fiona stepped out of the SUV. Her laptop nowhere to be seen, her hands free.

  “Who wants to tell me the truth now?” I looked at Keirnan Janson. “You or your uncle?”

  “He isn’t my uncle,” Keirnan Jason told me.

  “Yes he is,” I blinked at Keirnan.

  “No, he isn’t.” Keirnan answered sternly, drawing his brow together.

  “Yeah, he is,” Caleb poked the bear. “Now, stop the lies and let’s get to what we already know. You run an insect farm and we found Mr. Thomas Wering covered in insects. No goat’s cheese, just beetles. If he wasn’t missing some intestines and nude when we found him, we might believe he bought the beetles and left, but the quantity is way off and no one needs 300 beetles for dinner.”

  “Like Lewis said, after a customer buys something, we don’t ask what for, maybe he wanted to have dinner and go fishing. I don’t personally like the taste of beetles or any insects, but for those that do, they can be almost as expensive as truffles.” Keirnan turned to look at Caleb finally. “It’s time for you all to leave.”

  Twenty-Three

  “Keirnan Janson and Lewis Parnell, I’m taking you both into custody while this property is searched under the special rules laid out by the Serial Killer and Mass Murderer Laws. I recommend you do not resist,” I took a stance.

  “I did it,” Lewis suddenly stepped forward. “I killed that boy. He came back after hours, drunk, wanting to start a fight because the goat’s cheese didn’t have the flavor he wanted. He came at me in the barn, while I was closing up the insect tanks for the night. There was a scuffle and I knocked him into the beetles. He was speared by a piece of wood, ripped out part of his intestine. The insects must have swarmed him without me noticing. I then drove him a few towns over and ditched the body.”

  “What did you do with his car?” I asked.

  “I drove it into a lake a few miles away,” Lewis said.

  “I don’t believe a word of that,” Caleb told him.

  “That’s what happened,” Lewis said.

  “Fine,” I placed handcuffs on Lewis Parnell. Keirnan Janson lost his composure comple
tely. A moment earlier, he had been confused, for real, now he was in a rage. He stormed Caleb. Caleb picked him up and tossed him as if he weighed close to nothing.

  Caleb Green was a psychopathic badass and we all knew it. None of us had ever seen it before though. He was about six feet, four inches tall and two hundred pounds of muscle. However, psychopaths could ignore their bodies’ warning signs that they were overdoing it. He could probably bench press a small car if he was in the darkness that took us over. He grunted at Keirnan Janson. Janson struggled to get up from the beehive he had landed in.

  “Still sticking with that story?” I asked, trying to move Lewis Parnell. “Because I’d be willing to bet you couldn’t move a dead body on your own, especially a fit one, like Thomas Wering, but your nephew could.”

  “Fuck off,” he spat at me. It missed and I ushered him towards the SUV. Fiona and Rachael both rushed to meet us.

  “Take him, I don’t know whether I have to save Caleb from Janson or from himself,” I told them. Fiona nodded. Rachael looked mesmerized. I turned to see Keirnan Janson rush Caleb. The younger man took the Marshal to the ground with a thud. Keirnan drew back and I let go of Lewis. My feet were moving without my mind telling them to. I was running on instinct and waiting for the calm to overtake me. Everything would hurt less when it did. Caleb took a vicious right hook to the face and threw his own, hitting Janson squarely in the jaw.

  “Make him bleed!” I shouted, surprised I still had enough oxygen in my lungs to do so. Keirnan drew back for another punch and Caleb kicked the man, lifted him over his head and tossed him to the ground. It took me a foot step for Caleb to get back on his feet. He took a boxer’s stance and squared off with Keirnan Janson. I lowered my shoulder and hit Janson hard enough to make my bones jar. Janson grunted but didn’t go down and I had made a serious error. I jerked upright and tried to get away from his long arms, but he grabbed me by the arm, exposing the flesh. For a heartbeat, he stared at it and I knew exactly what he was going to do. His teeth sank into the flesh and tugged, ripping it away from my arm. I didn’t cry out, I kicked at him, catching his knee. The blood gushed from the wound, washed over my arm, and ran like a stream off my skin and onto the ground. Whatever issues Keirnan Janson supposedly had with blood, he wasn’t having them now. I felt the calm descend.