by J. E. Taylor
Kyle looked at the phone. The name didn’t mean anything to him, but that would soon be eradicated as he headed out of his apartment to the local library.
Kyle sat down at the computer bank and Googled Ty Aris. What came back made him break out in goose bumps. The guy was a serial killer all right, but did it with flair and went out with a bang.
His body was never found and if the voice on the phone was indeed Ty Aris, Kyle was in trouble. The guy had been a member of Mensa, a technological genius and a psychopath, the likes of which the state of New York hadn’t seen in years.
He combed through all of the stories, reading the details and wishing he had access to more than what was available in the public archives. The only piece of information he had that he could use was that Ty’s brother was still alive.
He Googled Christopher Aris and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. This guy was a billionaire. He leaned back and took a deep breath, his next steps beginning to formulate.
He continued his research on the billionaire, stumbling on the story of the warehouse that occurred five years before. His gaze stopped on a name, Eric Connor, Steve’s partner at Quantico.
“Jesus.” The kid was connected to the voice on the phone.
Kyle leaned back in the chair and then did a search on Eric Connor in the news archives. He came up with quite a few articles. He cruised through them, finding one about his mother marrying an actor, the public divorce a few years later and the warehouse incident. The last article was what he was looking for. It was his obituary and gave the information about surviving parents and the towns they lived in.
Kyle smiled and stood up.
Plan B was now in effect and there was more than one acquisition on his list. He needed funds to carry out his plan but in the wake of the credit card denials online, he decided on a different direction and headed back to his apartment. He pulled out the transfer instructions, tucked them into his back pocket, and then began rummaging through his drawers. Finally, he found what he was looking for.
Credit card checks.
They took time to clear and that’s exactly what he needed. Kyle wrote out a check and headed to the bank. The teller at the local branch gladly took the check, peeling off the amount as he flirted with her. He whistled as he pulled away from the bank with a pocket full of cash.
The unmarked van with removable ambulance lights was a little more difficult to obtain, but Kyle called in a list of favors and within a couple of hours, he was heading north. He arrived in Brooksfield at a little after four.
He slipped into the private uniform, donning a fake mustache and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses before he stepped into the hospital, looking for the Administrator’s office. He walked in and gave a winning smile to the receptionist.
“Hello, ma’am.” He tipped his hat and handed her the bogus transfer request. Jennifer Williams was being moved to Mount Sinai Hospital in Manhattan by request of her husband and a Dr. Horowitz. The receptionist typed commands in the computer and waited. She smiled at Kyle as he waited patiently in the seat. The confirmation beeped on the computer and she picked up the phone requesting the patient be brought to the emergency bay for transfer.
Kyle returned to the make-shift ambulance, pulling it up to the emergency bay and taking out the gurney. He waited and a few minutes later, an orderly wheeled Jennifer out. He helped transfer her to the waiting gurney along with the IV bags and loaded her into the ambulance, securing the bed so it wouldn’t roll during the ride. Kyle nodded and slid into the driver’s seat, pulling out moments later.
He held his breath until he crossed the state line and then the muscles knotting his neck and back relaxed. One down, one to go. He found a small local hotel and checked in, pulling the van around to the back, away from the view of the road. He stripped the lights and decals off the van, storing them under the gurney that held Jennifer. Her unconscious form tucked tight under the sheet aroused him and he shut the doors to the van.
Just one more video…
Kyle clipped the camera to the ceiling and turned on the overhead interior light, peeling back the sheet from Jennifer and stripping her hospital gown. He ripped the monitor pads off her body tossing them onto the floor. Next came the intravenous connections and the catheter, leaving her without any tubes or wires or pads.
Kyle stared at her, running his hands over every inch of her skin, squeezing her chest and fondling her, all the while, smiling at the camera.
“I enjoyed fucking your wife every time I visited the hospital in Brooksfield. I was there so much that your father-in-law actually thought I was a doctor.”
Her body bounced on the gurney with every one of his vicious thrust.
Kyle closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the release. When he pulled out, he stared into the camera. “I’ll make sure to give you a live demonstration and next time, I’m going to fuck her perfectly tight ass.” He tapped his finger on his lips. “I wonder just how far her blood will fly when I slit this pretty throat.”
He hopped off the gurney and took the camera down, leaving Jennifer naked and exposed for the night.
Chapter 51
Sarah pulled over at a hotel across from the beach in York, Maine. She checked in and fell into the bed, exhausted. Her mind raced, trying to wrap around all she had read and the encounters with the doctor and the man at the gravesite to the point sleep evaded her tired body.
“Goddamnit,” she muttered and threw on a pair of sweats. Pocketing the hotel key, she left the hotel room and crossed the road to the beach. Meandering down the stretch of sand, she watched the waves lick the shore in a steady soothing pattern. The moon was not quite full and its reflection shimmered on the surface, periodically broken by a white cap or two.
The dull ache of exhaustion crept into her legs and she turned to head back. A man sat on the steps leading to the road taking sips from a steaming cup and his gaze found hers. Her heart skipped a beat and her palms broke out in a sweat. Something about the way he studied her was unnerving.
Even so, he was easy on the eyes. Not like Steve Williams, but enough so that the knot in her stomach eased. Blonde hair, athletic build and a comfortable smile greeted her and she couldn’t help but smile in return as she climbed the steps.
“Nice night,” he said.
“Yes, it is.”
“Would you like to join me?” he asked as she stepped onto the stair next to him.
Sarah paused and looked down at him. “I’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
He nodded and looked back out at the ocean.
Sarah took a few more steps and stopped. Her mind was still racing and perhaps some light conversation with a stranger would be helpful. “I guess a few minutes wouldn’t kill me,” she said and plopped herself next to him on the steps. “My name’s Sarah.” She extended her hand.
“John,” the man introduced himself. “What brings you to the coast of Maine?”
“Business. You?”
“A mixture of business and pleasure.” He smiled took a sip of coffee. “You from the city?”
Sarah smiled. “Brooklyn, born and raised.”
“Ah, I thought I recognized the accent,” he replied.
“Where are you from?” She couldn’t quite pin down the accent.
“Connecticut. I’ve never been up this way and figured it might be interesting.” He shrugged looking around. “It certainly isn’t nearly as busy as New York.” His eyes drifted back to her.
“What do you do?”
He took a sip of coffee. “A little of this, a little of that.” He evaded the question. “How about you?”
“I’m a homicide detective.” She watched his reaction.
He laughed. “A little thing like you? I don’t believe it.”
Offended, Sarah said, “I am a good cop.”
He put his hand up in an apologetic gesture. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just you don’t look like your average homicide detective.”
“What do
you mean?”
“You’re beautiful.” He commented and looked down at his coffee and back. “I just never would have guessed. Sorry if I offended you.”
Sarah relaxed a little and nodded.
“Are you on a case?” he asked, looking at her sideways.
Sarah sighed. “Sort of,” she said. “I’m looking for answers,” she clarified. “And hopefully I’ll find them here.”
“I hope you do too.” He raised the coffee cup and took the last sip. “Thank you for spending a little time with me.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “It was a pleasure meeting you and perhaps our paths will cross again someday.” He smiled and shook her hand.
Sarah watched him cross the street and head to the opposite end of the hotel.
* * * *
Kyle walked away, each step a disappointment. His initial thoughts about having fun with her died when she said she was a cop. If he killed her here, there’d be no way he’d be able to get out of town with his next acquisition.
He took a last glance back with an iota of regret because she certainly was a fine piece of ass.
Chapter 52
Chris neglected to tell Steve about the phone call. He didn’t want Steve to know he was narrowing down the location either. He knew if Steve got a whiff of where Kyle was it was over. Both of their souls would be damned.
Steve paced all day, driving him bat shit.
“You have anything yet?” Steve asked again for the millionth time.
Chris glared at him over the computer. “Get out.” He pointed at the door.
Steve stopped pacing and his eyebrows rose.
“You are worse than my kids. Just get out, go for a walk, go to the museum, go see that cop, just get the hell out of here and out of my hair for a while.” Chris spat the words out from between tight lips. His patience was gone.
“No. I want to know where he is, Ty.” Steve pressed, knowing using his real name would provoke a reaction.
Chris leveled his gaze at Steve sending a silent command for Steve to sit and shut up.
Steve obediently sat on the couch, his eyes wide at first but anger flowed into them seconds later, aimed straight at Chris.
Chris focused back on his computer but the edges of his vision slipped to black and he blinked. The swoon hit him like the full force of a nor’easter barreling in over the Atlantic and he muttered, “Shit.”
Darkness descended, pulling him down into the swirl.
The iron grip released and Steve turned his head at the thump. Chris was no longer sitting in the computer chair. He stood, crossing the room and staring down at Chris, unconscious on the floor.
“Jesus,” he whispered at the thin trails of blood leaking from the corners of Chris’s eyes. He crouched and pressed his fingers to Chris’s neck, breathing a sigh of relief at the strong pulse.
Chris’s eyes blinked open, looking up at him in confusion, both eyes now red, like the blood vessels had declared a mutiny.
“You passed out, again,” Steve said, helping Chris to his feet. He left him for a moment, retreating into the kitchen to grab some paper towels before returning and handing them to Chris. “You really should have that checked out.”
Chris grabbed the paper towels out of his hand and wiped his face, muttering under his breath. “Penance sucks,” he said
“What’d you say?”
“Nothing.” He closed his eyes, suddenly looking every bit of his forty-five years and then some. “I think I’ll call it a night.” He opened his eyes, raising them to Steve.
Steve glanced at his watch. “It’s only eight. You sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine and don’t worry. I’m not going to die before we find that bastard,” Chris snapped. He locked the computer and headed into the bedroom without further word.
Steve watched him, surprised at the outburst. He glanced down the hall and then at the computer, itching to know where Kyle was.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Steve looked up at Chris standing in the hallway and he pressed his lips together, clamping down on the nasty comment that came to mind.
“Look, I need sleep. Don’t fuck with the computer, let the program run and I’ll look at it first thing in the morning,” Chris said.
Steve gave the computer a last glance and nodded, settling on the couch for the evening.
Chris turned, leaving Steve to his own devices. In the bedroom, he picked up the phone and dialed his residence in Maine.
“Hi, Jess,” Chris said.
“Hey, sweetheart. You sound tired.”
He took a deep breath, cloaking his thoughts. “I am. I found the money trail for Steve, now we’re just waiting for a confirmation of an address.” He closed his eyes falling back on the bed. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” She whispered. “Can you cross over?”
“I’m way too tired, babe,” he said with a sigh. If she saw his eyes, there would be nothing to stop her from coming down to New York and hauling his ass home. “Can I say good night to the kids?”
“Sure.”
The shuffle of the phone being handed off filled his world and then Tommy’s voice came through the line. “Daddy, when are you coming home?”
Chris opened his eyes and swallowed the bitter taste of tears. Home. He didn’t think he’d ever see home again. “Soon,” he lied.
“I miss you,” Tommy replied.
“I know. I miss you too,” Chris said. “You be good for your mother.”
“I will. I love you Daddy,” Tommy said and the phone shuffled.
“Hi, Dad,” CJ said with no enthusiasm in his voice. The words sounded so grown up and filled with bitterness, like he knew his father was never coming home.
Chris bit his quivering lip. “Hey,” he said when he had control. “Are you being good for your Mom?”
Silence met him.
“CJ?” Chris sat up.
“Yes. I’m being good,” he answered.
“I miss you, kiddo.”
“Then come back,” CJ pushed.
Chris hung his head. “I love you, CJ,” he explained, “but I can’t come home just yet.”
A heavy sigh filled the line and after two beats, CJ spoke, his voice softer, more resigned. “I love you, too, Dad. Here’s Mom.”
“You’re blocking me from your thoughts on purpose. What’s going on Chris?” Jessica asked, her voice carrying the weight of her worry.
“I just miss all of you,” Chris answered but his voice cracked, belying the deep sadness that took seed in his gut. “I love you, Jess. Now, I need some sleep.”
“I’ve never heard you this tired.”
“Steve’s been running me ragged. I’ve only had a couple of hours of sleep each night and it’s getting to me.” Chris stretched out on the bed. “I wish you were here with me,” he whispered.
“I wish I was too, sweetheart. Get a good night’s sleep.”
“Mhm.” He was already fading. “Love you.”
“Love you, too. Good night.”
Chapter 53
Chris woke a little before eight the next morning and checked his computer. Bingo, he had an address. He scribbled a note saying nothing had come back from his searches and he was going out to run some errands. Before he took off, he changed the password to something Steve would never figure out and headed out, leaving Steve snoring in the guest room.
He took Interstate 95 into Branford and stopped in front of the address. The street was quiet and he slipped across the road to the door. With a quick look up and down the street, he turned his attention to the door, willing the lock to unhitch. The telltale click made him smile and he commanded the door to open, stepping inside without touching the door. Another tilt of his head and the door shut behind him.
Chris stood in the entry with his eyes closed, scanning the apartment and within seconds he knew it was empty, but he didn’t trust his intuition with all the hokey stuff going on lately so he quickly searched room
by room, making sure his sixth sense hadn’t deserted him completely. Even so, he hoped he was wrong. The opportunity to hurt the son of a bitch who killed Eric sent his blood racing, but unfortunately, that would have to wait. Kyle definitely wasn’t there.
Chris took a seat and closed his eyes, wishing he was home and felt the transition. His eyes snapped open to his own living room in Maine and he shivered. He’d never transitioned on a wish before. Usually he had to have some sort of connection with his destination, either a mirror, which always seemed to act as a portal, or on the phone, and he didn’t remember a mirror in the living room of the empty apartment. “Damn,” he whispered at his empty house.
“Jess?” he called. When no one answered, he sighed. She was probably shopping while the kids were in school. He closed his eyes and felt the magnetic pull yanking his soul back to his body.
He opened his eyes to the strange apartment again, glancing around.
Nope. No mirrors.
“Shit.” It was like his powers were short-circuiting and now they were as unreliable as the outcome of his current situation.
Chapter 54
Sarah pulled up to the gate and looked at her watch. It was seven forty-five. She rang the buzzer hoping Mrs. Ryan was awake, especially with two young boys who had to get ready for school.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice asked.
“Mrs. Ryan. My name is Sarah Connelly and I am a detective in the seventeenth precinct in New York. I need to speak with you for a moment if you wouldn’t mind.” She waited and the gate slid open for her to enter. As she pulled up, a woman stepped out of the front door, her face etched with worry.
“What can I do for you?”
Sarah noted that the worry lines smoothed out as she approached and Mrs. Ryan’s gaze shifted from worry to mistrust. “I, uh.” She began, pausing to formulate the bizarre questions floating through her mind.
Mrs. Ryan gave Sarah the once over, crossing her arms. “What is it you need to discuss?”
Sarah realized she didn’t quite know how to ask the questions that plagued her. “It’s about your husband.”
