Ian agreed and snuck out of Sanderson’s sight by crouching as he left. By the time Ian was well beyond the parking lot Sanderson approached Drake and interrogated him as to who he was talking to.
Drake looked at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not an idiot Winchester, who was he?”
“He?” Drake looked about, completely perplexed, “Mister Sanderson, I have no idea who you are talking about. I was talking to Sho Kazeke but you interrupted us and now he’s working in his cube on the other side of the room.”
“Not him,” Sanderson barked, “The other one.”
“What other one?” he looked past him at the lanky coworker who tied to conceal his laughter. “I’m sorry Mister Sanderson, but I think I need to get back to work before I waste any more time. Besides,” he looked at the man behind Sanderson, “I think Mister Dalton wants a word with me.”
Startled, he whipped around and examined the man. He nodded, looked at Drake and muttered, “We’ll talk about this later Winchester.”
Drake smirked, “Of course we will.” He looked at his coworker and chuckled, “What’s up?”
Jeremy took a seat and laughed, “I do love messing with him,” he told Drake with his slight German accent. He stopped a moment to recall why he’d even dropped by, but suddenly realized it, “Oh! Do you happen to have the sales reports for the last quarter? I’ve been looking for it but I can’t seem to get my hands on it.”
Drake shook his head, “Sorry, ask Sho, he might have seen it.”
Jeremy nodded and thanked him, but stopped at the end of the cube and asked, “Might I be able to persuade you to lend me a set of headphones? The right ear of mine just died on me.”
Drake agreed (as he felt obligated for the stunt Jeremy performed to give Drake the leeway to have his brief talk with Ian) and fished a set of black earbuds out from his desk and tossed them at him. Jeremy failed entirely to catch them, but thanked him anyway as he picked them off the ground. As soon as Jeremy left Drake cursed his luck as he watched Sanderson make his return approach.
---*---
7:05 PM
Baltimore, Maryland
Detective Ryan Sage sorted through a few pages of notes he’d collected on a case he wasn’t overly convinced existed. His office was small and didn’t offer too much room to think, let alone pace as he did on more than a few occasions, but it did allow him a bit of respite from the cacophony outside his walls. The office only signified that he was the head detective and allowed him a bit more wall space than he would normally usurp to plot out investigations. His newest case, one he’s stumbled upon and one he wasn’t even approved to investigate, utilized nearly all of the desk and wall space he had, even though he knew a majority of it was caused by his own ineptitude toward traditional organization.
He glanced outside his window at the city of Baltimore. His second story view showed him very little of how bad it truly was in the city. Detective Sage took a breath and watched the shadows of a few birds that streaked across the amber sunlit windows of a nearby tower. Sage gathered his thoughts and left his office and intercepted his partner on his way out.
“You ready?” Detective Chuck Felton asked him.
Sage nodded, “As ready as someone can be with this sort of plan.”
They had been partners for nearly half a decade. Detective Felton was partnered with the previous head detective, but that man died during a failed drug heist. Three weeks later Detectives Sage and Felton interrupted the same group who they had previously attempted to bust and successfully stopped one of the most notorious East coast gangs’ spread of illicit drugs throughout the city. The arrests made headlines nationwide, though the press quickly died down, to both detectives’ relief. Sage was promoted to head detective at Detective Felton’s recommendation, though the two remained partners afterward.
“How sure are you again?” Detective Felton asked.
“You read it over didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s unfortunate, but probably the case.”
“You do realize this will put us on the case, right?”
Sage nodded, “Of course, that’s the whole point.”
The pair walked up to the Chief of Police’s office and knocked on the door. Once he told them to enter they did. Chief Martin Johnson sat behind his desk with a concerned look on his round face. His short gray hair complemented his thick black moustache, which only held traces of gray. The man weighed a bit more than both of the detectives believed he should, for someone in his position, but neither of them, nor anyone within the station ever made mention of it, out of respect for both the man’s position and his feelings.
He looked at the two of them, and asked hesitantly, “What is this about?”
Sage began, “Sir as you know, there have been a number of murders all over Baltimore.”
“You gotta be specific here, Sage,” Johnson told him while he rubbed his head with his dark hands.
“A string of murders related to an assassin who burns a crescent into his victim’s right forearm.”
Irritated, the Chief interrupted, “Sage I’ve told you that there’s no case, this is probably some rising gang trying to get some territory or street credit or something.”
Sage tossed a file onto Johnson’s desk, “Eight bodies in the past forty days, all with the same mark on their forearms.”
Johnson picked the file up and examined it as if it were a relative’s long, stale photo album. “Are you saying you think this is the work of a serial killer Detective Sage?”
Felton answered for him, “Unfortunately yes chief. Any rookie would say so, as would the general public.”
Johnson swore. “The last thing we need…” he looked at the detectives, “Do you have any leads other than the matching scars?”
Sage nodded, “Each victim met the following victim before they died.”
The chief leaned back in his chair. He nodded, “Keep talking.”
“The first guy was Red Irons, age forty-three. He ran a yoga…house? Shop?” He looked to Felton for the correct term, but his partner only shrugged. “At one point he thought he was the anti-Christ, which is why he attempted to kill himself, I guess.”
Felton continued, “Red tied chains to his feet and jumped into the harbor. Half an hour later our second victim, Breanna French, is jogging by and then jumps in to save him, claiming she ‘knew he was down there.’ Four days after that, Red dies. He’s the first victim with the scar in his arm.”
“Six days later Breanna’s found dead in her car by the third victim, Bryce Noland, who opened the locked car by merely touching the vehicle, no key or anything. Four days after that, Bryce gets in a wreck with our fourth victim, Tim Qing, who walked away from the accident without a scratch. A day later, Bryce is killed at his apartment after he was released with a minor concussion and a broken wrist.”
The Chief intervened there, “Qing dies five days after Bryce right?”
Sage nodded, “But he found and returned the missing cat of our fifth victim, Ana, before then.”
“How did you find that out anyway?” asked Felton.
“I ran a search for both of their names and found that a lost cat notice was revoked, with Qing as the one who returned it.”
“Anyway,” Felton continued, “Ana, the fifth victim, meets Tony Allen at a train station; Tony’s our sixth. Ana dies in Tony’s bed eight days later. Tony’s accused of murder and meets the attorney he’s given, Rachel Schmitt, who’s our seventh victim. She watched Tony die two days after Ana in one of our holding cells.” Detective Sage made sure the chief understood and repeated where it happened. “Rachel gave her testimony of the incident to Brett Foster; she died a day after Tony.”
“And Brett’s killed nine days later.” Johnson finished. “Every victim is in some way connected to the next person before they died…”
“Which means someone Brett met within the past nine days is going to die,” Felton
muttered.
“So it seems. Who do you think he met within that time frame?”
Detective Sage told him it could be anyone. “Brett set the record for the marathon last Sunday, so between all the runners he met, the press, and any other random person he could have ran into there’s a wide area of possible targets…”
“Well who do you think is still in Baltimore?”
“Who knows? It could even be someone he met when he bought groceries, or when he brought someone into the station,” Felton answered.
Sage flipped open the file and browsed through it. Brett Foster was an officer at nineteen, was very athletic, despite his asthma, and regularly attended the Bahá'í Faith church. On the fifth of August he set the world record for the marathon at an hour and forty minutes, and after numerous drug screenings, he was awarded the world record as well as the first place prize for the marathon in which he raced. He was found dead in his apartment by a neighbor four days later, dead at the age of twenty-five.
The detective tossed the file on the desk and rubbed his eyes, “There are too many people…” he mumbled, “We don’t have a good lead.”
“Can you at least make a guess?”
“It could be anyone,” Felton told him, “Someone he met at the marathon, or a movie…anybody.”
Chief Johnson nodded, “Then there’s nothing we can do until the next stiff turns up.”
Sage looked cross, “We can’t just ignore this. We’ve got a duty to these people and if we don’t do our damn job this son of a bitch is going to slaughter too many people before he draws enough attention to himself to force our hand. It’d be better if we tried to stop him early rather than–”
“And how are we going to do that?” the chief inquired. “We seem to lack any suspects and we don’t know who this alleged killer is going to target, and we can’t guard the entire city all at once, so unfortunately I say we need to wait for more evidence Sage.” Chief Johnson returned the file to Detective Sage with an apology. “We’ve got plenty on our hands as it is. You two did hear about the botanical gardens in the Druid Hill Park that the Delta attacked, right?”
Felton nodded. “We did…How are things?”
“Burnt it right to the ground long before any firemen could arrive,” he told them. “We were just lucky that Sergeant Murdock and Officer Maguire happened to catch three of them in the act and managed to arrest them. Caught them with jugs of gasoline, Molotov cocktails, and handguns. The city will have to decide on whether rebuilding the gardens is a realistic endeavor, but I’d like to know why they decided to burn down a botanical garden of all things.”
The Delta was a gang known for their rather anarchist violence. What separated them from most other gangs in the area was that the Delta didn’t vie for territory throughout the city (or throughout the East Coast either). The gang managed to conduct their business, regardless of physical space, and relied on other means to traffic their illicit items. However, although the Delta remained one of the prominent gangs in Baltimore, their organization was once much stronger and structured. But what the Baltimore Police Department feared most of all was that the Delta seemed to stem from their city, yet the department seemed unable to find any sure leads to combat the threat.
“Either way,” Sage pressed on, “Combating the Delta isn’t going to happen soon. We need to at the very least open up an investigation for this serial killer.”
“And I would agree if we had something to actually work off of,” Chief Johnson told him. “Once the next body turns up, I’ll let you two have at it, but right now what do you think you could do? Wander throughout Baltimore asking whether each and every person met Brett within the last nine days?” He shook his head, “There’s nothing to work off of now, just wait and help us deal with everything else in this city, like the theft problem we’ve got in the Westport area.”
Detective Sage reluctantly agreed, and both he and Detective Felton shuffled out of his office, case in hand. Once they closed the door Felton let out a breath and apologized to his partner. “I’ve got to agree with him, there isn’t anything we can do at this point. Maybe once the ninth victim shows up we’ll be able to work at it. But there really isn’t anything to go off of now.”
Sage nodded and started back toward his office. Felton told him he needed to speak with Sergeant Murdock about the arson case and departed in the opposite direction. Sage held the case file in his right hand while he wore a scowl.
One of the younger officers nearly collided with him as he dashed through the station. “Sorry about that sir, I’m just trying to get my things and get out of here.”
Sage forgave him and asked without any real interest in the subject, “Are you going out or something?”
The officer laughed, “No, I’ve just got to get back to tend to my neighbor’s cat.”
“Well walk, okay Maguire?”
“Sure! Sure!” the officer said as he sped off to the lockers.
Sage returned to his office and found their newest officer at his desk. He couldn’t recall her name immediately, but one glance at her name tag gave him her last name and spared him any embarrassment. “What can I do for you Hendricks?”
She frowned, “I need to know if we have anyone who handles identity theft cases here on the force.”
He shook his head, “I don’t know of anyone off the top of my head…” he looked at her, “What’s this about?”
She rubbed her head, “I’ve recently discovered that someone’s been making purchases in my name throughout the nation, though mainly in Washington DC.”
“So you think your identity’s been stolen?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve talked with my bank, and we’re handling the fraudulent charges, but whoever this is, they keep at it.” She scowled, “They even bought a passport in my name.”
He raised his eye brows, “Then it should be easy enough to find whoever it is, since they have to have their photo–”
She stopped him, “I’ve tried that, and all it comes up with are two passports in my name with my information and image.”
He thought for a moment, and came up with what he thought to be the best solution for her, “Bring it up to the district attorney and see what she says. Other than that I’ve really got no idea what you should do.”
Officer Hendricks frowned, but thanked him, “I’ll talk to her as soon as I can and see what can be done about it.”
Sage set his folder on his desk, opened it, and skimmed over the pages. He didn’t get too far, as Detective Felton stuck his head in the door and told him about a disturbance in Point Breeze they needed to investigate. Sage only took a second to close his file and stick it in his desk drawer before he chased after him and to his job.
---*---
Chapter 2
August 13th, 2029
5:13 PM
Bothell, Washington
A warm breeze pervaded the park that sat on the edge of a forest. Blythe Park was vast, with a spacious green field, a large playground that consisted of multicolored slides, large bridges which led children from play structure to play structure, tunnels of blue and green, and a tall swing set that allowed nearly a dozen people. Blythe Park also bordered a highly trafficked bike trail, a narrow river, and a lush forested area on a hill.
The roar of an engine signaled the entrance of a young man who still hadn’t fully mastered the art of riding a motorcycle. Nick parked, shoved the keys in the pocket of his leather jacket, and walked over to a small group of friends who sat underneath a tall and shady tree. Nick finally removed his helmet, face covered in sweat, and muttered openly about how warm it was.
Drake, Ian, Jordan, and a young woman with whom Jordan held hands all met him with their eyes. Jordan smirked and told him it was ninety-three degrees, “What’d you expect in the middle of August, rain?”
“No, b-but that w-would have been nice.” Nick glanced at Jordan and asked how he kept so cool while he wore a long sleeved shirt.
Jordan shrugg
ed. “I guess I’m used to it, considering this is basically my work uniform and I have a long drive home to and from my shift every day in a car with busted air conditioning.”
“Then you’re acclimated?” Drake cut in.
“Maybe I am.”
“Just take your coat off and you’ll be fine Nick,” Ian told him. Nick followed Ian’s suggestion and after stripping the coat off he plopped down beside him. “Why did you even bother to bring that jacket?”
Nick shrugged and said, “I-I don’t know…It-It rained a f-few days ago s-so I thought–”
“Didn’t you even look outside?” Jordan mocked him, “The fact that there isn’t a cloud in sight should have been enough of a clue not to wear it.”
“Leave him alone,” Drake interjected. Drake sat with his back against the tree and his eyes on the slits of sunlight above them that managed to pierce the thick canopy. “Let him wear the jacket if he wants to. Besides, he probably gets cold flying around on that thing.”
Nick would have thanked Drake, but decided to spare himself the embarrassment. He tried to change the topic and asked Jordan, “Is this Rachel?”
“Naw, this is my other girlfriend.”
“Jordan.”
“Sorry,” he apologized and told him she was Rachel.
Rachel reminded Nick that they’d met before, “A few times actually, mostly at parties though…You do know that Drake’s my cousin, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I-I got that. I-I re-remember.”
Jordan rolled his eyes and intervened, “I understand there’s going to be another party soon?”
“Yes,” Drake said as he lurched forward, at attention, “This one for our dear Ian as he departs for the Queen’s Country.”
“Drake–”
“It’s set for the twenty-fifth and I’m still looking into reserving a place, but in the meantime start getting the word out.”
Impact (Book 1): Regenesis Page 3
