Belladonna Dreams

by Hadena James

  Not a single one of them suspected that she was orchestrating everything; she and a benefactor who she had yet to meet. She pulled out a care package from him. He never signed a name, just a V at the bottom of his letters. He had helped her plot her revenge.

  It was amazing how right he had been. She had done exactly as he had instructed and Alejandro had gone from angry and resentful to being a serial killer. Alejandro had even taken that extra step, sending a bomb to the house of Malachi Blake. It hadn’t worked, but it had been interesting to watch.

  In a few days, maybe a week, she would be rid of the family that had weighed her down for years. The family that had forced her to stay in that stupid asylum. They’d all be dead or in prison and she could have a life for the first time.

  Not for the first time, she imagined meeting up with V once it was done. They could run away, maybe go to Europe. They would live a lavish lifestyle, according to him, wherever they went. He had promised her so much and then became upset with her, because of how slowly things were going.

  After Maria and Tyler were dead, she was heading to Nevada. She had his address, so she would surprise him at his construction company. They could run away together that very day. She would have to go to the construction company, as he had stopped writing over the winter because she had failed to finish the plan.

  It was V that had hired the hacker to make her brother Roberto disappear. He obviously had money. He had also made most of Alejandro’s records disappear and altered her own. She owed him everything, which is why it bothered her that she hadn’t heard from him. Her heart hoped that, once he heard the news, he’d try to contact her. He had enough money that he could find a person, possibly even a protected person. This last part she was unsure about. She didn’t understand how witness protection worked, which was why she would go to him, after she killed Maria and Tyler.

  Love was a wonderful thing, almost as wonderful as killing people.

  Thirty-Three

  Helena looked exhausted, but she sat across from me with a stoicism that I had to admire. She didn’t wring her hands or fidget in her chair. She didn’t yawn or look put out to be back in the building, despite it being just before dawn.

  “Did you have a brother named Roberto Johnson?” I asked.

  “No, I had a cousin named that. He died about six years ago,” Helena answered. “Another serial killer, go figure. It runs in our family.”

  “Were Roberto and Alejandro close?”

  “Are you kidding? They hated each other. Alejandro would have killed him eventually if he hadn’t run afoul of the FBI first.”

  “Do you have another brother? Besides, Gavin and Alejandro, I mean.”

  “I did have,” Helena looked at the table. “He’s dead too.”

  “How did he die, Helena?” I asked.

  “A couple of kids were at a party doing LSD that they no doubt got from Gavin and his buddy, whatever his name was. He decided to inject it and in the clouded disagreements of what happened after that, he climbed a tree and fell. He landed on a rock and split open his head.”

  “How long ago was that?” I asked.

  “Twenty years ago, it was shortly after that incident when Anita called me to tell me she was fleeing and why. I didn’t believe that Gavin would do that at first, but then I got suspicious and started following him.”

  “How old was he?”

  “Sixteen.” Helena got a haunted look on her face. “Maria was at the party, she and Hector were twins, but she doesn’t remember exactly what happened. She’d also taken some of the drugs. It took days to calm her down. She swore some of the kids had been licking the fluid that leaked from his head as he died.”

  “Including Roberto?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Helena sighed. “What does this have to do with Alejandro?”

  “When Alejandro was poisoned, Maria mentioned there were five siblings. Yesterday, you mentioned there were four.”

  “I didn’t include myself, I was an adult when our mom left, and I had just turned eighteen the month before. That’s why I raised the kids. I didn’t do a very good job of it.”

  “I think the deck was stacked against you from the start and you did the best you could.” I stood up. “Do you know where we can find Maria?”

  “Sure, she’s at the hotel. Why?”

  “I would like to ask her about that night, see if she remembers anything else.”

  “She probably won’t,” Helena stood up, “but you can ask if you think it will help.”

  “Thanks,” I left her with her escorts. Outside in the hallway, I sat down on the floor. Lucas held his hand out to me, but I shook my head. I’d heard of some twisted things before, but never licking the fluid from someone’s head as they died from a head wound. It made me feel weak-kneed.

  “Ignoring the horror-movie grotesquery at the moment, it could explain why Roberto was punching holes in people’s skulls. If Hector had LSD injected into his cerebral fluid and the others drank it, it might have gotten them even higher. For the record, I’m speculating. I actually have no idea if that would work or not, but since he had ASPD and the cerebral fluid is slightly different than those without ASPD,” Xavier shrugged. “Never mind, I think I’ll sit with you.”

  “Aside from the graphic nature of that incident, does it help us catch our other killer?” Fiona asked.

  “Yes, because I believe Maria saw exactly what she said she saw and I believe Hector had someone inject his brain with the LSD instead of taking it orally,” Lucas answered.

  “I feel so much better about my own family at the moment. Do not get me wrong, we are all screwed up, but we are not licking up brain fluid from the dying or practicing necrophilia,” I said.

  “How did this get us closer to the killer?” Gabriel asked.

  “Whoever injected Hector, injected Violet Braun,” Lucas answered. “Most people wouldn’t think to inject LSD directly into the brain stem. Also, it is someone that was close to the family, probably is family, but is not Roberto Johnson.”

  Lucas went into the conference room. He was in there long enough for me to get my balance back. I was leaning against the wall when he came out.

  “Our killer is Joaquim Rivera,” he announced with a flourish.

  “Who the hell is that?”

  “He is a half-brother,” Lucas announced. “He was twelve when Hector fell out of the tree.”

  “A half-brother how and to whom?” I asked.

  “To Alejandro’s entire family. Alejandro didn’t take a shine to him, but Gavin and Hector did. They let him tag along. Alejandro, on the other hand, was resentful that his mother had reproduced with someone else and then sent that kid to grow up with her sister, who was Roberto Johnson’s mother.”

  “Where is Joaquim?” I asked. “And please do not say dead. I am really tired of chasing people that are dead.”

  “He isn’t dead. He’s suffering from deterioration of the brain and in a hospice, right here in Sioux Falls, South Dakota,” Lucas said.

  “The deterioration came from drug use, didn’t it?” Xavier said.

  “Yep,” Lucas answered.

  “Then he might as well be dead. How long has he been in hospice care?” Xavier asked.

  “Five years.”

  “I hate this case, a lot,” I muttered.

  “Five years with a deteriorating brain and he isn’t dead?” Xavier sighed.

  “The power of ASPD,” I told him.

  “I’m with Ace, this case sucks. It’s complicated and messy and there are a lot of dead-ends and vague ends and dead people and almost dead people and far too many serial killers,” Fiona said.

  “I will go see Mr. Rivera in the morning and report back on how bad it is.” Xavier looked at the clock. We all needed sleep. I wasn’t sure how long it had been since I had been awakened for the hostage situation, but it seemed like years.

  On the way back to the hotel, we went through the drive-thru of an all-night taco joint. My head hurt from all
the stupid circles we had spun today. I also agreed with Fiona. If this case got any more complicated, it would need a special file in Ripley’s Believe It or Not.

  “For a girl with tacos, you don’t seem very happy,” Fiona said as I slid my key through the lock on my door.

  “If you do not mind a little gore with your tacos, I will explain why,” I told her.

  “I’m getting used to gore and tacos,” she said as she followed me into my room. We both flipped on lamps, getting as much light in the room as possible. “Tell me what’s bothering you?”

  “First, the case gets wrapped with a nice little ribbon and bow and then suddenly, we are blindsided by serial killing cousins and half-brothers and people licking head wounds. It is a bit much.”

  “My aunt was a mass murderer. I have a cousin who did something similar. It happens.”

  “Well, yeah, I have a cousin, a brother, and a grandfather who are all killers, I get that it happens, but…” I thought for a moment, “…it is too much like my own life. My sister was killed, so my brother avenged it. My grandfather is notorious. My cousin practiced vorarephilia. It just seems like a lot of stuff similar to my own life.”

  “So the coincidences bother you,” Fiona sighed. “My aunt made us all pies, only her family ate it. Seven years later, a cousin put cyanide in the Thanksgiving turkey. Thankfully, it made the turkey smell weird so no one ate it. At which point, she became pissed that no one would eat her turkey and pulled out a gun. My dad took five rounds to the chest and still managed to subdue her.”

  “I’m guessing the belladonna pies were made by your dad’s sister.”

  “Yep, and the cousin that tried to kill us all was the daughter of my dad’s brother.”

  “And your father kept after the attacker after being shot and you have worked with me long enough to realize the signs.”

  “That’s it in a nutshell. What if I have it?”

  “That is why you do not like getting physically involved, you are afraid you will like it.” I looked at her. “If you were a sociopath or psychopath or hybrid, you would not be asking yourself these questions because you would already know the answer. I knew when I was six that I was different and by the time I was ten, I had a name for it. Also, I liked it before I tried it. Killing my serial killer captor was the first time I had ever inflicted pain or death on someone, but it was something I had thought about before that day. For me, when the real thing did not live up to the fantasy, I managed to ignore my bloodlust. I knew it would never measure up, so,” I shrugged. “It does now, but I have lowered my expectations from the fantasy based on experience and part of the thrill comes from knowing that I have just killed a bad guy. I could not go around committing wholesale slaughter and get the thrill that I get from killing a serial killer.”

  “Creepy,” Fiona said. “But at least I know I don’t have the bloodlust. So, it mirrors some parts of your own life and that bothers you.”

  “Yes, yes it does.”

  “Why? Alejandro is older than you.”

  “He also had access to my personnel file at one time and he can follow my life story on the news,” I answered. “What if this entire thing is one big charade? What if they are putting one over on us?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “What better way to discredit the SCTU than to let two serial killers outwit them? Two serial killers who come from a family of serial killers and whose brother was a member of the SCTU? And why would Alejandro erase the files of a cousin he did not like?”

  “Oh man, I hate when your crazy talk sounds plausible,” Fiona moaned. “It usually means something bad is about to happen.”

  “Fiona, something bad is always about to happen with me.”

  Thirty-Four

  I explained what was bothering me to Lucas, Xavier, and Gabriel. Despite it being nearly dawn, we were now standing outside of three hotel rooms. Fiona and Lucas were taking one, Gabriel and I were taking one, and Hunter and Xavier were taking one. We hadn’t been told who was staying in which room. At the moment, I was hoping Hunter and Xavier had gotten Tyler’s room.

  Gabriel held up his hand and began a countdown. I didn’t know if real cops in other places did this sort of thing, but we did. It helped keep us organized, and believe me; it was hard to organize a group that contained a sociopath and someone with brain damage. Gabriel deserved a medal for keeping us in order.

  “US Marshals’ Service, get on the ground!” Several people started shouting as we burst through the doors. Gabriel had called ahead, getting the US Marshals’ guarding Alejandro’s family to leave. I was somewhat surprised they had listened.

  Inside the room, Maria was in the corner, knees curled up to her chest. Tears ran down her face and she was shivering. Gabriel gave me a look before attending to the woman. She seemed genuinely scared. It was the second time I had seen her afraid. Suddenly, I realized I had made a mistake.

  Psychopaths didn’t feel fear. Therefore, Maria wasn’t a psychopath. She also didn’t seem to be a sociopath.

  “Get on the ground!” Lucas shouted in the room next to us. There was a gunshot and everything went silent.

  “Go,” Gabriel nodded to me. I dashed from Maria’s room. Hunter joined me as I entered the other hotel room. Fiona had her gun drawn. Her hands were shaking. Lucas was staring at the body of Helena Jones. There was a hole in her throat that was soaking the carpet with blood. Lucas finally reached over and took the gun from Fiona. We all waited for the crime scene techs. I stood in the corner of the room, watching them work. Xavier finally rolled the body over. Underneath it was a small gun of unknown make and model, at least to me. I sighed, finding myself relieved that Fiona hadn’t shot an unarmed woman.

  “We found these in her belongings,” a tech reported, as he handed the evidence bags to Gabriel. Gabriel read them for several moments and then let out a whistle. I walked over. Instantly, I recognized the handwriting.

  “She got played,” Gabriel said.

  “Yes, yes she did,” I answered.

  “Tell me I’m wrong and that’s not Patterson’s handwriting,” Gabriel said.

  “I dealt with The Butcher for years, so it is hard not to recognize the precise and pristine handwriting,” I sighed. “Patterson did what he does best. He found someone to manipulate and did it.”

  “He’s been in prison,” Xavier said, still examining the body.

  “The letters stopped when he went to jail, according to this date,” Lucas said. “By then, she was already in love with him. In the original plan, she was going to kill Alejandro, but she told Patterson he was getting stronger. So, they pushed his buttons about Gavin and his disability until he snapped.”

  “So, we will never actually know if Gavin was the serial killer or if Helena was.” I sighed.

  “Well, she killed the witnesses, Patterson references it. Patterson also mentions that he paid a hacker to remove Alejandro and Roberto’s files,” Lucas said.

  “My grandfather has been plotting for some time to kill Alejandro, but the serial killing cult in Chicago nearly beat him to the punch,” I said. “Shit, shit, shit.” I walked out of the room and downstairs.

  Fiona was sitting in the back of an ambulance being checked out. Blood was coming from her arm in tiny streams. A paramedic was working on it. I lit a cigarette and wandered over to her.

  “Looks like you got shot,” I said. “But I only heard one gunshot.”

  “I think we fired at the same time.” Fiona shrugged and stared at my cigarette.

  “She going to live?” I asked the paramedic.

  “It just grazed her, she needs stitches, but she’ll be alright,” he answered.

  “Great, put some steri-strips on it and I will get her patched up in a little while, unless you can put the stitches in,” I said.

  “No, ma’am,” answered the paramedic who dressed the wound. Fiona jumped out of the ambulance and stole my cigarette.

  “You are going to start smoking again full time if you do
not stop that,” I said as I lit another cigarette. “Why does everyone think I look like a ma’am? I hate being called ma’am.”

  “It’s a sign of respect and normal people find you scary. Even not so normal people find you scary,” Fiona said, her hand was still shaking slightly as she took the cigarette out of her mouth.

  “Good news, you are not a serial killer, or your hands would be steadier. Bad news, my grandfather set at least part of this in motion. I think he did it to kill Alejandro. This means Alejandro cannot go to The Fortress because that is where Patterson is. Suggestions?” I asked the only other girl on my team. I was starting to like having her around.

  “Kill Patterson,” she answered.

  “I do not think I can kill Patterson while he is in prison. That seems…” I searched for the word, “…reckless and insane. I also cannot kill Alejandro, because it will look like revenge.”

  “Then let Alejandro go to The Fortress and see which of them dies.” She looked at me.

  “That is a little cold.”

  “They are both terrible human beings, so who cares,” she shrugged.

  “I am not a great human being either,” I reminded her.

  “Actually, you are a good person. You rushed into that room, gun drawn, ready to take down whatever bad guy had fired at Lucas and me. I finally understand why Gabriel, Lucas, and Xavier aren’t afraid to follow you into the lair of a serial killer. If something happens to them, you will let yourself die before you let them. I hope to join that club one day. I hope that one day I can stand shoulder to shoulder with you knowing that you will rein in that demon and use him for the purposes of good, including keeping me alive. I know I’m not there yet, but I’m getting closer.” Fiona stubbed out her cigarette. “And if that means I get to smoke full time again, so be it.”

  “Most people in the SCTU do not live long enough to get lung cancer,” I told her.

  “Then a few cigarettes shouldn’t hurt me, but I have a feeling with you around, the expected life span of SCTU members has gotten longer.”