by Scott Blade
"Sun, I have no earthly idea where Gillard Shutter is. In case you haven't noticed, my plate is full. I have things on my mind other than the whereabouts of a half-crazed serial killer from over a year ago," Shane replied. He snatched his tie away from her fingers.
"Only strange thing is not only has your most famous client vanished," she said, "but a new suspect could overturn his conviction and possibly award him millions in damages. Yet, he is still nowhere to be found. Why would he be hiding? So, I started thinking that maybe I should check up on Paul Verize as well. And, Mr. Lasher, no one has seen him either.
"Doesn't it strike you as odd that your clients keep vanishing?"
"Clients disappear sometimes," Shane responded. I began creeping out from behind his eyes. I was curious to see the expression on Sun's face. She was a good detective. It would be a shame to convince Shane to do something to her that he would fight against.
"I'm not going to lie to you. The department is very interested in how two of your clients, both accused of murder, have vanished into thin air. We are not going to dismiss this as coincidence. If you do not start cooperating with me on this, it is possible that the department will open an investigation into their disappearances. You better hope that they don’t find anything."
Sun backed away. She stared off beyond her Mustang and then turned around to face Shane one more time.
"Are you threatening me?"
"I don't care about hurting you, but I will find Shutter," she said. She paused for a moment. "I will be in touch. I hope that you aren't hiding something from me."
"Detective, I have nothing to hide, but I am not required to tell you everything. It is your job to find evidence. It is my job to defend and protect my clients," Shane said. I snickered at Sun Good from inside the dark crevices of Shane's skull.
Sun Good retreated into her car and sped away.
We watched her vanish down the street. Shane was hiding something from her––me.
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Shane walked into his office, brushing past Ally Embers.
She lingered in the doorway, circling the glass. She looked as though something detrimental was on her mind. It was so important that she barely let Shane take off his expensive coat.
"Shane?" she said, clambering into the office uninvited, which she knew better than to do.
"Ally! Wait five minutes. I'll call you in when I get the chance," Shane said with an authoritative tone. That was one of the powers that I gave him, influence. He could yield my voice and command his listeners better, even control them from time to time.
"I just wanted you to know about the article in The Post."
Shane shut the door, but heard her words: "the article in The Post."
We were both curious.
Shane hung his coat up and loosened his tie. He set down his briefcase and approached the desk.
We saw the newspaper folded in half and lying on the edge of the desk, towards the chair. Ally had placed it within plain sight.
He sat down in the chair and unfolded the newspaper.
The headline almost made me jump straight through his skull and out of his head.
It read:
"Lawyer hides serial
killer's whereabouts"
Shane leapt out of the chair.
Someone talked to the press about our missing clients. It had to be Det. Sun Good. She was putting the squeeze on Shane about Gillard Shutter's disappearance. And now she knew about Paul Verize. She must have leaked it yesterday to a reporter in order to scare us.
She was conniving.
Shane took a look underneath the title to find out the name of the reporter. It was Katlyn Fox, the same reporter that uncovered the existence of the StoneCutter. The same reporter that made Shane famous with her coverage of Gillard Shutter, and more recently she had covered Paul Verize. So now we had to hunt the StoneCutter, dodge the police, free a wrongly accused suspect, free Shane from his guilt, keep Terrance happy, and avoid the press.
Fantastic!
Sun Good knew Katlyn. When Sun dated Shane, she used Sun Good for information. They were friends, not close friends, but friends nonetheless.
Sun Good leaked her discovery of our missing clients to Katelyn. We needed to know how much she told the reporter. We would have to speak to Sun Good again.
"Ally, get Det. Sun Good on the phone," Shane said through the intercom on his office phone, a high-tech, glossy looking device.
"Yes sir," Ally replied.
Within a minute Sun Good was on the phone.
"Shane? That was fast," she said. Shane could hear a snicker in her voice.
"Did you tell Katelyn about my clients?"
"Oh this is about the article in The Post," she replied.
I loved how she liked to toy with Shane. I adored it. She was like the mongoose that played with the cobra. It was believed that mongooses are the mortal enemy of the cobra, one of the deadliest snakes in the world. The cobra never feared a furry critter like a mongoose. Cobras feared nothing.
"The MPD doesn't leak information, especially with those kinds of allegations, not against anyone. If I leaked that information to Katelyn or any other member of the press that would be considered libel and a breach of department policy," she said.
Sun leaked it. She just confirmed it.
"This could be very bad for me personally. You shouldn't have done that."
"You shouldn't be dodging me."
"Goodbye Detective," Shane said. He slammed down the phone.
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The police had DNA evidence from Alex Kline. He was sleeping with the Frost's underage daughter, not the wife like we had originally been told.
Alex claimed that he saw their daughter earlier the night that the StoneCutter buried her alive with the rest of the family. They fought over something stupid, and she broke up with him. Their fight had taken place hours before the family was murdered, but Alex possessed no alibi after the fight, during the time of the murder. He claimed that he went for a walk to clear his head. No one could back up his story.
We sat in the cell with Alex. His face was swollen from crying. He started to tell Shane about a phone conversation he had with his mother. I tuned out for that. This was the part of Shane's life that did not interest me. I paid attention to only the details that would help us find the StoneCutter. That vermin was out there, taunting us.
After about an hour of me ignoring Shane's client, our phone rang.
"I'm sorry, Alex. I have to take this," Shane said.
"That's ok, Mr. Lasher," Alex said. He was a polite boy. He was far too nice to be a murderer. The evidence that the police had on him didn't mean that he was the StoneCutter. It merely indicates that he was involved with the Frost girl and nothing more.
Shane stepped away from the boy and looked at his iPhone. The caller ID read: Terrance Graves.
"Terrance, what is going on?" Shane answered, trying to sound confident.
"Are you with the client?"
"Yes," Shane answered.
"Good. At least you are doing something right," Terrance said.
He must have known about The Post article. Both Shane and I were frustrated with that article. It jeopardized Shane's career and brought unnecessary attention to us.
"Shane," Terrance continued, "I have seen the article in The Post."
"I'm sorry about that Terrance, but I can't control what the papers print."
"The partners have also seen it. Shane, they have called a meeting."
"A meeting? About what?" Shane asked.
"The board wants to discuss you, and your status here."
"Me? What about me?"
"I don't even know where to begin. First, they are pissed off about your spread in Vanity Fair. Then yesterday someone from the D.C. police department called this office making accusations about two missing clients. Today there is this article in The Post claiming that you are hiding information of their whereabouts," Terrance said.
"I am working
to rectify all of that," we said. Sun Good has caused a lot of problems for us. I wished Shane would let me kill her.
"Shane, there is one more thing. My office barely put in any effort investigating these claims and do you know what we found? Several missing clients, not just: Shutter and Verize, but others as well. They are all from your branch."
My nonexistent heart sank into the darkness of Shane's skull.
"When is the meeting?" we asked. I wanted to kill someone.
"That is why I am calling. I know that you are busy with Alex Kline, but that meeting is tomorrow. The partners do not require your presence, but it would greatly help your case if you show up and fight these accusations."
Shane sighed.
"Thank you, Terrance. I will be on a plane tonight."
We hung up the phone and glanced back at Alex Kline.
"Alex, I have to leave now. I have some important notes to look over. We will meet again in a couple of days," Shane said.
"I haven't told you my side of what happened yet."
"Tomorrow, my assistant will be here to interview you. Tell her. She is good and knows the right questions to ask you. For now we have to conclude. I have somewhere important to be."
Shane packed up his suitcase, and we left Alex hanging out to dry, but only for the moment. Ally could take care of the Secretary's son for now.
Before Shane got into his Mercedes, he called her.
"Ally, I need a roundtrip ticket to JFK airport. I will be leaving tonight. Returning tomorrow."
"Yes," she responded.
Shane got into his car, and we headed home to pack.
Terrance wanted us to face the partners. I didn't like the feeling that I had. It burrowed into the pits of my stomach. Facing the board of partners was as close to sitting in an inquisition as I ever wanted to feel.
Thankfully they can't sentence us to death.
6
Partnerships
"I am the monster in your head."
––Breaking Benjamin, Lights Out.
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New York City was one of my favorite cities in the world. I've never killed anyone there, not yet. I've always wanted to.
Shane sat in the lobby of an impressively modern building—the firm's headquarters. The decor of the interior melded together old works of art with modern technologies. The high-tech security in this building resembled that of a top-secret government building. Yet, the art expressed hellish images from ancient Greece and even from the middle and dark ages.
Every time we visited the main office in New York, I felt a sense of hell––of home.
Shane arrived at JFK around 7:30 a.m. He had not slept. We had to take a redeye from D.C. The flight was short, but the plane was delayed for three hours.
Off in the distance the elevator doors opened, and a perfect specimen of a woman walked out toward Shane. She wore a white, low-cut dress. Shane couldn't help but watch her long legs as she walked towards us, elegantly, frightfully.
He was exhausted. I was losing my grip on his senses. Rarely, did Shane's sexual urges surpass my homicidal ones.
How human of him, I thought.
"Mr. Lasher?" the woman said. She spoke with a Hungarian accent. Her English was perfect. Most people would have confused her for Russian, but I knew better.
"That's me," Shane answered. He stood up and lifted his briefcase.
Shane's tall, lean frame was dressed in one of his most expensive suits. It was black with a blue shirt and matching tie. Shane wanted to look confident and strong. We had to impress the board today. There was no room for error. We had to maintain the appearance of success.
"Mr. Lasher, I'm Tina. I'm Mr. Graves' new assistant. We haven’t met, but I've been on the phone with Ally a few times since I was hired," she reached her dainty hand out and shook Shane's.
We could have crushed the bones in her hands so easily, but Shane wanted something more sexual from her. I would have been satisfied with crushing her bones. The crackling sounds, the white dust, and her screams taunted my mind like a potent erotic, homicidal fantasy.
Maybe I was a little tired as well. Every monster needs his beauty sleep in order to be the beast. I was the beast in Shane's head.
"What happened to Evelyn?" Shane asked. She was Terrance's last assistant and also very attractive.
"We don't really speak of her, but I think she vanished one day. Her desk was empty and she never returned to work. No one in the office really knows what happened to her."
She probably quit because Terrance overworked her. He was a tyrant of a boss. He was a good provider for Shane. We had a good life, but he was difficult to live with, even more difficult to work for.
"This way, Mr. Lasher," Tina said. She walked us past two stocky security guards and toward a pair of glass elevators. She pressed the call button. We rode the elevators up to the top floor.
I watched through Shane's eyes and through the elevator's glass walls. The elevator rushed up into the bowels of the building. The lobby disappeared quickly into the darkness of the elevator shaft.
The inside of Shane's skull, my home, buzzed from the vibrations from the cables above us as they whipped like the long, rubber tentacles of an unseen monster. The monster's tentacles were like the veins that attached me to the inside of Shane's head. I held them tightly, whipped them back and forth. They were my reigns. I used them to drive my carriage of death.
"This is our floor, Mr. Lasher," Tina said. She got off and we followed her down a twisting corridor of expensive wall decor and heavy metal doors.
"I haven't been here in a long time. Where is Terrance?" Shane asked.
"Sorry, Mr. Lasher, I wish I could show you around, but the board is already in session. Mr. Graves is waiting for you in the boardroom. They started early, but have not been in there that long," Tina said. They stopped at a pair of majestic, dark oak doors. The heavy doors were kerned and inscribed with pagan art. I'm certain that the doors were a replica of Augusta Rodin's The Gates of Hell. At the top of the door stood three little sculptures of the slave men that encrusted Rodin's Gates of Hell.
"Wait out here while I announce your arrival to the partners," she said. She pushed against the heavy doors. Slowly, they opened to let out a dim, cryptic light from inside the chamber beyond.
Shane peeked in, but only saw the long table where the partners congregated. He saw a dozen suits, but could not make out any of their faces.
The partners of Graves and Associates were well known throughout the firm. Our firm was one of the largest in America and we were expanding every year. There was talk of moving into the European courts next year.
Shane was nervous and I held us together, as usual. The dark, inquisition-like meeting that lay ahead of us did not scare me. I have kept Shane's composure in the company of Federal Agents, judges, juries, and politicians. I could handle Graves and Associates' board of partners.
After a moment, Tina returned to Shane in the hallway.
"Mr. Graves said that you may enter now," Tina said. She leaned in close to us as we began to pass her.
She whispered, "Remain calm."
Calm? I was a killer, an avenger, and a mass murderer. I was a freak of nature who never freaked out. I had the steady hand of a surgeon. We would remain calm.
Shane, however, was nervous. I knew it. I felt it in his bones, his blood, and in the dark corners of his brain. I would have to take over a little, just to keep his composure. I would have to answer some of the questions for him in order to keep us together.
Into the gates of hell we walked, hand in hand. It was good practice for us. Someday, we would walk through the real gates of hell and into eternal damnation. We would face the devil high on his throne. Shane would cringe, tremble, and wince. I would crawl out of his head and face my maker.
I would say, 'I don't believe in you, Father.'
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Shane and I sat in the boardroom—the belly of the beast. The partners stared at Shane for a mome
nt. Until Terrance, the Chairman of the Board and our savior spoke out.
"Dear partners, we are here because of serious allegations by The Washington Post that one of our most notable lawyers, Shane Lasher, has been complicit in the obstruction of justice.
"We are here to review this matter and to conclude the fate of Mr. Lasher," Terrance said. He looked at Shane.
"Shane, this is a formal meeting, but you can act causal. We are here because of the Board's concern over The Post's accusations and the bad press that has been following you around lately.
"Now, I have here a few questions to ask, and then you can give a statement. The Board has requested that I recuse myself from any voting or debating. However, they have agreed to allow me to ask all questions and I may give advice."
"Fine," Shane said. He remained calm like the eyes of the dead.
"First, the Board wants to share some privileged information with you. We are considering you for a partnership, and that is the reason for this meeting. In light of recent events, we need to redetermine your future with the firm."
Shane did not expect that he was being considered for a partnership. I knew that it was coming. He was very good at his job. Together, we would be killers and lawyers.
"Shane, are the accusations that The Post is making against you true? Are you hiding former clients from the police?"
"Mr. Graves, Partners, I am not hiding anyone. I imagine that many of my clients do not want to be found. Mr. Shutter was a mentally disturbed man. He suffered through a long, excruciating trial process. I imagine that he packed up his belongings and moved away. He probably changed his name. Obviously, he was innocent of the charges that now face my current client," Shane said. He remained seated with his back straight, showing incredible posture and strength. He was a great lawyer. This made him good at defending himself. I hoped that the day never came when we would have to really use his talents to defend our own neck.
"What about Paul Verize? He too is missing according to the D.C. police department," Terrance asked.
The atmosphere around the Board clouded over because of the dim light from the lamps. Darkness ossified and consumed the air. Maybe this really was hell.
