Severed

by Corey Brown

  “No,” Cody said, harshly, stepping back. “I’m fine. Forget it.”

  Harris and Derek exchange a glance. Both men are worried.

  “Sorry,” Cody says, quietly. “I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole. I’m just.…” Cody pinches the bridge of his nose. “Listen, I’m just tired. I fell but I’m okay.” He looks at Derek. “Really. I’m all right.”

  Derek holds Cody’s gaze for a moment then looks away. He has never seen Cody this way. It doesn’t feel right.

  “Okay. No problem,” Harris says, easing back into his seat.

  “Cody, this isn’t like you.” Derek says, still standing, folding his arms across his chest.

  Then Derek realizes how obvious, or suspicious, two men facing off in a Walmart food court would look on a security tape. He unwinds his tense posture and sits down, gestures for Cody to the same.

  “What’s wrong?” Derek says.

  “Glen,” Cody says. “Is Tina McGrath your patient?”

  “Uh, well, yes.”

  “Is she pregnant?”

  “Tina McGrath,” Derek says. “As in the McGrath Foundation?”

  “The same,” Cody says, nodding. “How about it, Glen? Is she pregnant?”

  Harris shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Cody, I can’t discuss her medical history. The others, they were different, I gave you those records, but Tina McGrath isn’t connected to any of this. Is she?”

  “Well,” Cody says. “I just saw her in the backwoods on J.P. Oil Road about twenty miles east of here. She was with a New Orleans detective, I think they’d been to a church called The Crossing.”

  “The Crossing?” Harris says, blanching. “Oh shit. I remember Nick mentioning that church. And she was there with a policeman?”

  Cody nods. “She was. Tina might be next. Is she pregnant?”

  “No,” Harris says. “But she has been. Mrs. McGrath has miscarried twice, once in my care and once before.”

  “She miscarried? Is her husband dead?”

  “Uh, no, Jordan McGrath is alive and well, as far as I know.”

  Derek says, “Cody, you want to explain what’s going on?”

  Kneading his lower lip, Cody looks at Derek. His memory of meeting Eric Hansen and Tina McGrath has all but vanished. After leaving the two of them, Cody had driven fast, working his way toward a store in Opelousas, hammering the speed limit. That talking snake, Tina McGrath and Eric Hansen had quickly slipped into a haze of mixed up thoughts and memories.

  Cody squints at Derek and struggles to focus, struggles to remember.

  “On my way up here,” Cody says slowly, “I saw Tina McGrath and Eric Hansen— he’s a cop out of District One, he’s got Nick’s case. They were riding in an unmarked NOPD squad. I followed them down from Highway One-Ninety to some old refinery road called J.P. Oil, but I lost them. I stopped at an intersection to figure out where they went and that’s when I saw the road sign for The Crossing.”

  “What does that---” Derek starts to say

  “Let me finish.” Cody knows he has to get it all out as quickly as possible. “While I was contemplating my next move I think an animal attacked me.” Cody looks hard at Derek. “I think that’s how I hurt my head.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re not sure,” Derek says. “Sounds to me like you hit your head pretty hard, you might need stitches, you might have a concussion, who knows?”

  “Trust me, I’m all right.”

  Derek sighs. “Okay. What happened then?”

  “That’s when Hansen and Tina found me flat on my back, out cold.”

  “You were unconscious?” Harris says. “Cody, you really need to let me check you out.”

  Cody waves him off again. “Not now, maybe later.”

  “So Hansen and Tina McGrath found you,” Derek says. “What then?”

  “Nothing. I left and came here.”

  Derek shrugs. “I don’t get it. You follow them, lose them, get knocked out, they find you and you leave. You didn’t have a conversation, you didn’t ask them what they were doing out in the middle of nowhere? They didn’t ask you?”

  “No,” Cody says then closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Well, yeah, Hansen did ask, but I was fuzzy and I knew I was late. But they probably wouldn’t have told me anything.”

  “How do you know?” Derek says. “Why wouldn’t they tell you?”

  “I’m certain they went to that church. The Crossing. It was only a few miles away, why else would they be out there?”

  “Hell if I know. Why do you care about this church in the first place?”

  Cody glances at Harris. This was all going to sound so crazy. At least he has Harris to back up most of this story. “You want to start?” Cody says.

  Harris looks down at his coffee cup. His shoulders droop, he nods.

  DoctorHarris recounts the story, for the third time, to a third cop. He tells Derek about the Finlay and Sheldon patients and about his own patients. He talks about missing DNA in those unborn children. Throughout, Derek remains silent as Harris tells the tale. He does not interject or ask questions, but Harris sees the incredulous look on the FBI man’s face. Doctor Harris knows Derek is finding all of it difficult to believe.

  Cody picks up with Julia’s murder, how the apartment had been trashed and how the intruder had been looking for something in particular. He talks about Nick’s investigation, Nick’s chronicle on the data CD Jamie lifted from his apartment. Cody tells of how Nick’s investigation confirmed Harris’s ideas about a ritualistic sex ring among an elusive group of New Orleans cops but what Harris didn’t know was that these cops were making and moving drugs, selling weapons, even selling people.

  “According to Nick’s investigation,” Cody says. “The sex and the trafficking didn’t seem to have a tangible connection. He suspected The Crossing wasn’t a real church but was just a front for moving contraband. Now that I’ve watched The Destroyer and found Hansen and Tina together in the vicinity of the church, I’m certain of it.”

  Harris looks at Derek. “My daughters rented the movie. After I saw it, I knew I had to contact Cody. That movie was….” Harris searches for the right words. “That movie is what happened to Doctor Finlay’s patients. It happened to my patients.”

  “What is the movie about?” Derek says.

  “Well,” Harris says. “It’s hard to believe but Cody and I both watched this thing and----”

  “The movie describes all of this,” Cody says, interrupting. “The violent sex, the pregnancies, the corrupt cops, everything.”

  Derek passes his gaze between the other two men. “So let me get this straight,” he says, after a few seconds. “This movie is about sex, violence, dirty cops and drugs?” He looks at Harris. “And somehow this relates to your patients?” Then a glance at Cody. “And to your partner’s death?”

  “It’s not that simple,” Cody says. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but work with me on this.” Cody turns to Harris. “Glen, did either of your patients have children?”

  “Mrs. Bowman-Lee had an older child from a previous marriage, but none with Mr. Lee. The Cochran’s have been trying for about three years but without success.”

  “What about Reverend and Mrs. Mueller?”

  “They had a son who was killed in a boating accident. The boy was young. Doctor Sheldon said they had been trying for another child for a while. I guess the problem was with the Reverend. In fact, the same was true for Mr. Cochran, low sperm count.”

  “What about Jordan McGrath?” Cody says. “How was his count?”

  “Cody, I can’t.” Harris looks away, takes a deep breath. “Oh, what the hell. They’re both fine in terms of fertility, but Tina keeps miscarrying. I don’t know why, she’s perfectly healthy.”

  Cody leans back in his chair and thinks for a moment. “Well,” he says, kneading his lower lip between his thumb and finger. “It’s not exactly the same as the movie but its close enough. Remember how the women in
the movie couldn’t bear children? We kind of have the same situation here only in reverse, the women are fertile but the husbands aren’t making the grade.”

  “Not quite,” Harris says. “Mr. Lee just doesn’t want kids. His equipment is fine. The McGraths haven’t gotten pregnant and Jordan McGrath is still alive.”

  “Maybe not for long.”

  Harris swallows, nods at the implication.

  “But there is one common thread,” Cody says. “Rich women who want babies but can’t have them.”

  “Okay,” Derek says. “Give me details. Exactly what happens in this movie and what is the correlation to these people you’re talking about?”

  “That’s not important,” Cody says. “What is important is the fact that the screenplay was written by one guy.”

  Derek shakes his head. “Cody, you’re pissing me off. Why---”

  “It’s important,” Cody says, cutting Derek off. “Because his screenplay follows what has happened so closely that he must be involved. I think all of this was planned and he made a movie about it a year beforehand.”

  “I agree,” Harris says. “David Carlson has something to do with all of this, but how and why?”

  “Carlson is the screenplay writer?” Derek says.

  “Yeah,” Cody replies. “I did some checking, he lives out in California. He just won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay and on Oscar night he hopped in the sack with some actress. He banged her so hard she had to go to the hospital. The police arrested him for battery, wanted to nail him with rape, but it doesn’t look like she’s going to press charges.”

  “Did he beat her up?” Harris says.

  “No, just rough sex. Really rough sex. Just like your patients.” Cody frowns. “I may have to take a little trip out west. I’d sure like to have a talk with Mr. Carlson.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Derek says.

  Cody pauses, looks at Derek. “Not at all.”

  Derek stands and paces for a few moments then sits back down, rubs his jaw.

  “Listen---” Cody starts to say.

  “Glen,” Derek says, interrupting, a tight smile on his face. “Would you mind getting another round of coffees?” He fishes a ten-dollar bill from his pocket. “And grab a few doughnuts or something. We’ve been here for a while and tape is rolling on the security cameras. We want this to look like a social gathering.”

  Harris looks unsure about the idea but says, “Uh, yeah, okay. No problem.”

  Derek waits until Harris is out of earshot then leans in close. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” He whispers, straining to keep his voice low. “What are you doing? I don’t know who is the bigger fool, you or me. But you need to get a grip.”

  Cody’s eyes flash angrily, he feels betrayed.

  “You’re wrong,” Cody says. “I’m telling you there are cops in New Orleans who are cranking out moving drugs and guns, and banging wealthy society women.”

  “Big deal,” Derek says. “If cops and rich ladies want to get it on who cares? That’s not against the law. And the drugs or guns or whatever? You don’t have one shred of proof. And all this shit about a movie and David Carlson? Jesus, you should hear yourself.”

  “But Glen’s patient records---”

  “Those records don’t mean shit. If what you say is true, it’s weird, but not illegal.”

  “But their husbands---”

  “Which is another reason why this is completely insane,” Derek says. “Husbands got their wives pregnant. So what if they croaked afterwards? It’s not a crime to die of a heart attack while having sex with your wife. You got that part, right? About how those men were doing their own wives. Not cops, not strangers.”

  “Don’t jack me around,” Cody says, his voice a growl. “I gave you an out. You called me back, remember?”

  “I called you back because I thought you were in trouble with a case. I didn’t know it was a head case. Cody, we’ve known each other a long time and I trust you, but this is too much. As your friend and as a cop, I’m telling you to forget all of this. Who gives a shit if Tina McGrath gets pregnant or if some goddamned playwright has wild sex? None of it has anything to do with you.”

  Cody starts to speak but, as if the words are hanging in the air before his eyes, he can see the Bible verse, John three-sixteen: ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son and whoever shall believe in Him will have eternal life.’

  Cody stares at the letters, he looks at the words, trying to make sense of what he sees. Cody mentally constructs a sentence he cannot comprehend. The letters seem to be repeating themselves, rotating, turning over and around. Watching this freakish spectacle, Cody begins to lose spatial orientation. He feels dizzy, nauseous and Cody struggles against dizziness by concentrating on the letters.

  Then, just when he actually reads the words, just when Cody understands, the letters evaporate. And in the ghostly mist of John three-sixteen, several figures appear. Cody recognizes them but labors to recall how or why. As he works the memory, four horsemen, bloody and embattled and fearsome, show themselves.

  And it comes to him. The vision he had in the Tulane parking garage a few days ago. Not a vision, a nightmare, a place he had visited while retrieving his car. What had the disembodied voice called it, an Outland?

  An Outland where these warriors slaughtered millions, where death had streaked through Cody’s mind like a comet. The recollection, vague as it is, still makes Cody shudder. He wonders if just thinking about what he saw will make the terrifying vision return.

  Each horseman, one at a time, looks at Cody. And in their faces he sees why they are here, Cody understands what the horsemen are fighting for, or rather what they fight against. These riders do not kill innocents. They rage against the Skulls of the universe, they hunt evil, deliver justice. To Cody’s surprise, he feels a kinship with these enforcers and at that moment Cody knows: he is a rider, just like them.

  As with the floating letters of John three-sixteen, the four horsemen turn to fog, they fade, disappear from view.

  “Hey,” Derek says. “You all right? Cody?”

  His sense of disorientation intensifies, Cody feels light-headed. The sheen of perspiration glazes his forehead and Cody feels his underarms growing moist. He slumps back in the chair, tries to relax.

  “Uh, yeah I’m okay.” Cody wipes his upper lip with the back of his hand. “Pass me a napkin, will you?”

  Derek pulls two from the chrome dispenser, hands them to Cody, who mops his face and forehead. “You don’t look okay,” Derek says. “You look like you’re going to throw up. Seriously, Cody, you need to go to the hospital. I think you’re going into shock from your injury.”

  Cody crumples the damp paper napkin but instead of tossing the wad, he clamps a fist around it. “It’s something else, not the cut on my head,” he says. “Believe me, it is definitely not that.”

  The numbers, three-sixteen are beginning to make sense. Cody’s skin grows cold as he begins to understand. Tina McGrath would be number three, Harris’s third patient. Sheldon lost one, Findlay lost six. It wouldn’t be six, one, two anymore. It would be six, one and three. In reverse, three-sixteen. Or maybe chapter Three, verse sixteen, For God so loved the world.

  Harris returns before Cody can begin to process these thoughts, before he can answer the questions.

  “You won’t have to go to California to see David Carlson,” Harris says, dropping a newspaper on the table top. “According to the Times-Picayune, he’s in New Orleans. And he’s dead.”

  Chapter 22

  “Ma’am? Ms. Carlson, we’re here.”

  She does not want to move, cannot move. She is numb. Every inch of her body feels brittle. Suzanne thinks she will shatter into a million pieces if she flexes even one muscle. There is no one left, everyone is gone. She is completely alone.

  The phone rang last night at eleven forty-five PM, Pacific-time, and a woman who identified herself as Doctor Robiere apologized for calling
so late, but there was bad news.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Ms. Carlson,” Robiere had said. “There’s been a tragedy.” Her tone was soothing, but the words stung like leather strips whipped across Suzanne’s flesh. “Your brother is dead. I’m so sorry.”

  Suzanne had spent most of the night arranging flights and ground transportation. After an hour of fitful rest, Suzanne hurried off to catch the sunrise flight to New Orleans. Then a delay meant she had wasted two and half hours sitting around LAX. Why had she not come out here with him yesterday? That is what he had wanted, practically begged her to do. Was it only yesterday? One day since she had spoken to him? It was because of her job, if she’d just stopped working for that one goddamned day, maybe he’d still be alive.

  The realization that she has just cursed, even if it was only in her own mind, using the Lord’s name in vain makes Suzanne say a quick prayer, she asks forgiveness, asks for understanding. Suzanne has been in prayer, more or less, from the moment the news of David’s death crashed into her world. Prayer is her first line of defense, call upon God for strength and guidance then stand on faith, the cornerstone of her life.

  And Suzanne needs to rely on that cornerstone, now more than ever. Everyone in her family is dead and faith is all she has left. But will it be enough? Will faith carry her through?

  Staring out the limousine window, Suzanne wishes she could float away. Maybe it is all just a dream and she will float away from it.

  The limo driver has the door open, waiting for her to exit the car. “Ms. Carlson we’re here, we’re at the hospital.”

  Suzanne looks up at him. His eyes are sad but full of kindness.

  “I’m sorry,” the driver says, extending his hand. “I know this is hard.”