Fragments

by James F. David

  “Yes.”

  Elizabeth thought about the implication, but it didn’t fit what she normally thought of as psychic powers. “Somehow he must have affected your thinking.”

  “Exactly. He would guess and cloud my mind, convincing me he had guessed correctly.”

  Elizabeth had expected something more dramatic, and looked disappointed.

  “Don’t underestimate his power until you hear the rest,” Dr. Birnbaum said.

  Now his face darkened and his voice softened. Elizabeth recognized the symptoms; something painful was coming.

  “After that last session with him I met with my graduate students to discuss what I’d done, but before we finished I had to leave for a lunch meeting. I don’t remember everything that happened next, but I remember waiting to cross at a light. Suddenly I had an urge to walk into the street. The next thing I knew I was in a hospital—my arm torn off in the accident. The leg they chopped off later.” Bitterness clouded his face. “The witnesses said I stepped right in front of a sports car. Sound familiar?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “You think he did that to you?”

  “I’m convinced. He knew I stumbled onto his secret and he tried to kill me.”

  “Cheating at cards isn’t much of a secret to kill for.”

  “What if that were only the tip of the iceberg? He made me walk in front of that car, and Dr. Kinghorn drive in front of that train. That alone is an amazing power, but what if that power could be developed into something more?”

  “What more is there?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

  Thinking about the implications, Elizabeth stood silently until she saw Dr. Birnbaum staring at her.

  “Now, what aren’t you telling me, Ms. Foxworth?”

  Without hesitation, Elizabeth described Wes’s experiments and the bizarre events surrounding them. Dr. Birnbaum listened raptly, occasionally asking technical questions she couldn’t answer. She hesitated when it came time to describe the hidden room and the body, but she did, including details about Frankie’s drawing, and her discussion with Tom Floyd about the earlier killings. Dr. Birnbaum probed and sifted, asking about every detail.

  His wife returned in the middle of the story, glaring at Elizabeth. Dr. Birnbaum and his wife fought briefly over her presence, but then his wife relented, seemingly surprised by her husband’s assertiveness. When she was gone Dr. Birnbaum reassured Elizabeth.

  “She’s not angry, just surprised. I’ve pretty much let her take over since the accident.”

  Quickly forgetting the fight, he returned to probing for details. Elizabeth noticed that he kept returning to the basement room, asking about the body and what she’d learned from Mrs. Clayton. After an hour his wife appeared with sandwiches and iced tea. More civil, but unsmiling, his wife sat for a while listening to the discussion. When they were done eating, she cleared the dishes and then left, briefly smiling at Elizabeth when she did.

  Abruptly Dr. Birnbaum ran out of questions and rolled to his window, staring out at the atrium. Respecting his need for silence, Elizabeth sat silently, sifting her own thoughts. Finally, without turning, he said, “Describe Gil to me.”

  “Medium height, dark hair, dark eyes. Looks a little Hispanic, or something. He’s quiet, but likable. He’s very good with the savants.”

  “It doesn’t sound like him. But it must be.”

  “You think Gil is doing the killing?”

  “I think Gil is my Carl.” Then he lifted the stump of his arm. “Yes, he’s a killer, but I think you have a bigger problem than that.” Lowering his stump, he rolled up to face her. “Take me with you. I’ll identify Carl—Gil—whatever name he’s using.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. . . .”

  “I can help you. You need someone with expertise in the paranormal.”

  “I know what you’re thinking, about Frankie and the tomb, but how—”

  “Yes, that’s it! I want to help.”

  “I can’t take you.”

  “You need me to help you. We don’t know the extent of his powers.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  Then, raising the stump of his arm again, he said, “He did this to me!”

  Elizabeth paused, knowing he might be of some help—especially with Officer Winston—but before she could answer his wife intervened.

  “He’s not going! He’s still not well.”

  “I’m fine. In fact, I’ve never felt better.”

  Elizabeth sat back while a fight ensued, husband and wife arguing back and forth, Elizabeth learning much about their relationship since the accident. Dr. Birnbaum had been suicidal at first, and morose since then. Today was the most animated his wife had seen him since he regained consciousness, and she was grateful to Elizabeth. But she was drained by the last months, and saw his return to life as relief, a chance for her to live her own life again. She admitted it was selfish, but she wanted a chance to live normally again. The argument seesawed, covering the same ground over and over, and finally Elizabeth excused herself, promising to call later.

  Back at the hotel she called home.

  “Hello, this is Ralph. Who is this?”

  “It’s Elizabeth, Ralph. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine, Elizabeth.” Then, after a long pause, “I’ve got some gum. I’d give you some but you’re not here.”

  “Thanks, Ralph. May I speak to Wes?”

  Elizabeth heard the phone clatter on the table, then Ralph shouting for Wes. A minute later Wes answered.

  “Hello.”

  “It’s me Wes. I met with Dr. Birnbaum, and he was very helpful.”

  “What did you find out?”

  Elizabeth didn’t know how much to reveal. She could share their suspicions of Gil, but what could Wes do? If they shared them with Officer Winston, would he believe them? Without enough evidence to arrest him, they might end up stampeding Gil into harming someone else. If Gil was Dr. Birnbaum’s Carl he had to be stopped, but they had to be sure it was him first.

  “I think I better wait until I see you tomorrow,” she said. “One thing, though. Don’t let anyone out of the house without you. I mean no one.”

  There was a long pause at the other end, and when Wes spoke, he sounded odd.

  “Elizabeth, I think you should know . . .”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

  They said goodbye, but Elizabeth worried about Wes’s serious tone. After dinner she called Dr. Birnbaum, who said in a subdued voice that he would try to join her in a few days. Now Elizabeth found herself disappointed—she would have liked Dr. Birnbaum to be there when she confronted Gil.

  That night she dreamed Daphne was in the center of a whirlwind that spun faster and faster until it was the speed of a tornado. Objects flew around, circling, accelerating until they spun off into the darkness. Then the savants came, Archie first, then Yu, and finally Luis. Tumbling and twisting, they floated helpless until they shot out into the darkness. Next came Karon and Shamita, followed by Wes and Len. They tumbled around Daphne, reaching for one another, clutching at each other’s hands, only to be ripped apart by the powerful winds. Then with a roaring whoosh they were thrown into the void.

  She woke with a start, anxious over the dream. Heart pounding, skin clammy with sweat, she sat, breathing deeply. Unable to calm herself she turned on the light, chasing the shadows away and with them the last of her fear. Dream analysis wasn’t a part of her training, but she found herself reviewing the images. The savants had been in her dream, and the others with the project. Then she realized two people were missing. She wasn’t there, which wasn’t uncommon—people were seldom in their own dreams. Gil was the other missing person, which Elizabeth thought significant, but couldn’t understand why. She spent a restless night, unable to stop thinking about him.

  28

  SUSPECT

  Elizabeth drove directly to the police station from the airport. It was early and Ro
y Winston wasn’t there yet, but the policewoman called him at home and he asked to meet Elizabeth at a restaurant. He was there when Elizabeth found it, eating a stack of pancakes and drinking coffee.

  “You want something? It’s on the department.”

  “Just coffee.”

  “Well, OK, but I think turning down free food is suspicious.”

  “You think breathing is suspicious.”

  “Lack of breathing is what I’ve been dealing with.”

  After the waitress brought her a cup she launched into her explanation.

  “I might know something that will help you with your investigation.”

  “Which investigation is that?”

  “The murder, of course.”

  “Which murder?”

  Elizabeth glowered at him, realizing he wanted her to connect the killings, possibly to let slip something he didn’t know.

  Roy poured syrup over the last bite of pancakes and forked them into his mouth. Then he pushed his plate aside and picked up his coffee cup, staring expectantly.

  “I might know who killed Pastor Young,” Elizabeth said.

  “Me too. Who were you thinking of?”

  “I’m not saying I’m sure, but I think it might be my assistant Gil.”

  The policeman looked surprised. “Why him?”

  Elizabeth started with what happened to her first assistant and the other parapsychologists and then moved to Dr. Birnbaum’s story. As she spoke, his notebook appeared and he scribbled down occasional notes. During the entire story the policeman’s expression never changed. When she finished, he flipped backward through his notebook.

  “Lemme see, where was that? Here it is. When I suggested ESP was involved you called it ‘nonsense.’ Called it that twice actually.”

  “I was upset. Besides, it is hard to believe.”

  “It wasn’t for me. Now you want me to check out Gil?”

  “Of course. That’s why I came to see you.”

  Roy stared blankly.

  “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Sure. When does this Dr. Birnbaum get here?”

  “He said in a couple of days. That’s all I know.”

  “OK, I’ll find out what I can about Gil.”

  “Can’t you arrest him and hold him while you check?”

  “I don’t have any evidence against Gil. I’ve got more to hold Daphne or Yu on than Gil.”

  “But he’s dangerous.”

  “Not to your people. They’ve been living with him for months, and they’re all still alive and kicking.”

  Not reassured, Elizabeth pressed again. “If it’s him, he’s dangerous. Can’t you at least post someone outside the house?”

  Smiling he said, “It’s already been done. Mrs. Clayton’s got a guest. He’s been checking on your comings and goings. I’ll have him park out in front now that you know about it. If Gil’s the one we’re after it might keep him in line—of course, he might bolt too.”

  Both of those alternatives were acceptable to Elizabeth, so she thanked him and left. As she was driving home she began to think about the things Frankie had said about someone wanting to kill Ralph and Shamita and wondered how safe they really were.

  Ralph came out the door as soon as she pulled up, a big grin on his face.

  “I’m glad you’re home, Elizabeth. Did you bring me something?”

  “Thank you, Ralph,” she said, pulling out a ten pack of gum. “Did everything go all right while I was gone?”

  “Sure, sure,” he said smiling. Then his smile was replaced by a pucker, and he looked concerned. “Well there was one thing that happened that wasn’t so good.”

  Before she could ask about it Wes came out onto the porch, a concerned look on his face. Elizabeth’s heart picked up its pace and she knew bad news was coming.

  “What’s happened?” she asked.

  “I think you better come inside.”

  Elizabeth complied, her concern growing. As she stepped in, Daphne trotted to the piano and began playing. Ralph trailed behind, gum smacking in his mouth. Wes led her into the living room. Len and Karon were at the far end, with Gil next to them. Elizabeth stared at Gil briefly, then quickly recovered her composure and spread her gaze among the others. She didn’t see Yu, but Archie was sitting on the couch solving a Rubik’s Cube, and next to him was Luis—his face covered with scratches.

  “What happened to Luis?”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks. He’s just scratched up a bit. Nothing is broken.”

  “Why should something be broken?”

  “Well . . .” Wes began, but Len finished for him.

  “It’s customary to break something when you fall three stories.”

  “What? How?” Elizabeth stammered.

  “It’s who?, what?, where?, when?, and why?,” Len said. “Who? Luis. What? Fell. Where? The university. When? Day before yesterday. Why? Gravity.”

  “Len, please,” Wes said, “this is serious.” Then to Elizabeth, “I took him to the doctor. They X-rayed and found no breaks.”

  “Did he really fall three stories?”

  “Yes. Gil was there, he can tell you.”

  Elizabeth forced herself to stay composed and turned to Gil, who responded evenly.

  “We took a walk through the university and stopped to take a look at an art exhibit. It was on the second floor. When we left we took a skybridge between buildings on the third floor. We were looking at the view when Luis leaned out too far and fell off.”

  Elizabeth was suspicious of another accident but couldn’t see what Gil would gain by killing one of the savants.

  “I didn’t fall, I was pushed.”

  Shocked, Elizabeth turned to Luis, who sat head down. Luis never spoke voluntarily, and now he sat silently, chewing on his lower lip with his oversized teeth.

  “Who pushed you, Luis?”

  Luis started to answer but then paused.

  “Yeah, no one pushed you, Luis,” Ralph said. “You just kind of fell—that grave stuff Len was talking about.”

  “Gravity,” Len corrected.

  Elizabeth glanced at Gil, noticing his cheeks reddened slightly. “Let Luis answer,” Elizabeth said.

  Luis began to rock on the couch, licking his lips nervously, his eyes fixed on the ground.

  “Luis, were you pushed?”

  The rocking increased—Luis was clearly anxious.

  “Luis?” Elizabeth prodded.

  “I guess I wasn’t pushed.”

  Elizabeth watched Gil out of the corner of her eye while Wes smoothed things over.

  “That’s right, Luis,” Wes said. “It was just an accident—Luis just leaned out too far. Isn’t that right, Gil?”

  “No one pushed him,” Gil said. “I’m just glad he wasn’t seriously hurt.”

  Elizabeth forced a smile and thanked him for his concern, not meaning any of it.

  It was bedtime before Elizabeth got a chance to talk to Wes and the others in private. Gil was busy reading a story to the savants, so Elizabeth gathered the team around the kitchen table. She told them about Dr. Birnbaum’s experiments and his last subject and the suspected ability. All of them looked shocked when she told of their suspicions of Gil.

  “If Gil is the same guy, what’s he trying to do?” Len asked.

  “We’re not sure,” Elizabeth said. “He may be trying to better understand his own ability.”

  “So why kill people? Especially college kids he doesn’t even know?” Shamita asked.

  Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in her seat, afraid of sounding crazy. “Dr. Birnbaum agrees with me that there might be a link between the dead girl in the basement and Frankie.”

  Wes started shaking his head.

  “Don’t be so quick to judge,” Elizabeth said. “Think about what’s happened. You integrated Frankie before the hidden room was opened and you got an emotionless, mechanical Frankie—just like Pat. But after the body was discovered Frankie came to life.” Pausing to get h
er courage, she added, “Frankie now has soul.”

  “Elizabeth!” Wes said. “You can’t think Frankie is the ghost of the girl in the basement!”

  “Nancy. Her name is Nancy Watson.”

  “This Nancy is dead, Elizabeth. Dead and buried now. It’s tragic what happened to her, but whatever thoughts she might have had died with her. She’s not part of our Frankie—no ghost is.”

  “How do you explain the similarities between the killings?”

  “Copycat killings happen all the time.”

  “I don’t know, Wes,” Len said. “I think this is stretching coincidence too far.”

  Surprised at Len, Wes turned to face him. “But it doesn’t make sense. How is Frankie doing the killings, when Frankie doesn’t exist without our equipment?”

  Len had no response, but Shamita did.

  “Maybe it’s the odd wave. Maybe that peculiar brain function keeps them together even without your program. I’m not saying I believe in the paranormal, but it would explain—”

  “Yes, Shamita. I’m sure it’s something like that,” Elizabeth said. “Somehow Nancy can bring them all together again—remember how Karon couldn’t wake them up? Maybe Nancy was in control.”

  “But no one died that night. No one even left,” Wes protested.

  “Gil did,” Karon corrected. “He came in just before I tried to wake them. Maybe Nancy was in control and was using Gil?” Then, softer, she added, “Maybe they haven’t found the body yet.”

  Protesting with a shake of his head, Wes said, “Pure fantasy. There’s no concrete connection with our experiment.”

  “I think I know a way to prove it,” Elizabeth said, but then a noise in the living room distracted them.

  Fearing it was Gil, they quieted while Karon checked the next room. Turning back relieved, she said, “It’s only Ralph.”

  “Ask him in,” Elizabeth said.

  Wes frowned and Shamita groaned.

  “Hi everybody. Do you do this every night when we go to bed? Are you playing a game?”

  “No, Ralph,” Elizabeth explained. “We were just talking. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure! But not hard ones. Sometimes the hard ones give me trouble. Don’t ask me addresses. I know where I live but I get the numbers mixed up—know what I mean?”