He nodded, “A few, though they’re gone now.”
“Did you get their testimonies of the accident?”
“Of course,” he said. “I already gave them to Detective Felton though.”
“Hey Sage,” Detective Felton called out from the site of the wreck, “Hurry over.”
Sage left Officer Maguire there and crossed traffic to reach his partner without so much as blinking while he crossed. He examined the car from the start and noted it was a head on collision that wrecked the front left side of both vehicles and crushed the entire left side of Angela’s car.
“Look at this,” Felton told him. Sage peered into Angela’s car, as bloody as it was and as destroyed as it stood. “Her airbags never deployed.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” he mentioned. “I’d like to get the car checked out to see whether this was a mechanical failure or sabotage.”
“I’ll make a note of it.”
Sage examined the rest of the car closely. The windshield was cracked but not shattered, the driver’s door was open and extremely damaged (Sage assumed the cab driver pried it open to get to Walsh, which Felton confirmed was true), and the entire front end of the vehicle was irreparable. He rounded to the back of the car and found it to be relatively fine, but he stopped at the right side of the car and looked intently at a small indent in the middle of the side. He guessed the impression was about two feet wide and nearly a foot tall.
“Felton,” he said, “I need a camera.”
The detective called for one and Officer Hendricks brought it over to Sage. He snapped a few images of the dent and returned the camera to the officer.
“Can I ask what that’s supposed to be?” she questioned him.
“I’m not sure yet,” he told her, “I’m curious as to whether this impression was here before the accident or not.”
Felton walked over and saw the area they in question. “How could the crash do that?”
“Do you think it’s just something else?”
“Do you honestly think it’s a part of this?” he asked his partner.
Officer Hendricks intervened. “I think we actually have footage of the crash as well as images of both cars from before the wreck from the traffic cams around here,” she told them. “That should answer your questions.”
Sage agreed and asked for her to get them if she could. Hendricks agreed and left to make the call. He turned to Felton, “Now, let’s go talk to the driver.”
“Do you really think he’s Cladis?”
Sage shook his head, “I doubt it.”
“Why?”
Sage looked at him, “Would you stay around the scene of a crime you committed when you didn’t have to?”
“We would have all of his information from the cab though,” Felton reminded him, “So we would find him.”
“Assuming the information is legitimate and that he, Cladis, wouldn’t have stolen the car from the real Mario Evanston.”
“I guess that’s true…”
They reached Evanston, who sat in an ambulance recovering from the minor concussion he had crossed with the shock of the entire incident. Detective Sage started, “Mister Evanston, I’m Detective Sage and this is Detective Felton–”
“I didn’t do anything,” Evanston started. “I didn’t even hit her, she swerved into my lane.”
“We’re not accusing you of anything,” Felton told him, “We merely need you to accompany us to the station to answer some questions.”
“I didn’t do anything though. I tried to save her,” he told them, “But-But she’d just lost so much blood…” he looked down at his own bloody clothes and muttered, “I tried to save her.”
Sage reassured him he wasn’t in any sort of trouble. “We’ve simply been investigating another matter, one we believed she was a part of. We simply need you to answer some questions that pertain to that.”
Evanston looked at both of them, “Am I a part of that investigation?”
“Yes, since you were in a wreck with her,” Felton told him.
“So I’m a suspect because–”
“You aren’t a suspect,” Sage stopped him. “We just need to ask a few questions before we let you go and we need to record them at the station along with your testimony of the accident.”
Mario Evanston reluctantly agreed. Once the medics agreed to release him he joined the two Detectives and they headed back to the station.
-- -- --
“Do you think it’s such a bright idea to bring Evanston here?” Chief Johnson asked Detective Sage.
“I’m not too sure about that yet,” Sage admitted.
“But you do think he’ll be the eleventh victim?”
Sage nodded.
“How soon will you know?” Felton asked.
“If he doesn’t manifest any ability in a few days we’ll release him,” Sage told them.
“A few days? Do you really think he’ll agree to stay for that long?” the chief asked. “We can’t detain him and you know that.”
Johnson, Sage, and Felton all stood behind the one-way mirror and watched Mario Evanston as he waited in the small interrogation room. Sage wanted to keep him there as it was in the heart of the station and only had one door and no windows. If he was Cladis he would only have one exit and if he wasn’t there was only one way in to get to Evanston.
“I take it you haven’t told him about any of this, have you?” asked the Chief.
“We were about to.”
Sage and Felton left the room and entered into the small room to talk with Evanston, who waited for them uneasily. He asked as soon as the door opened, “When can I go home? I answered you questions, didn’t I?”
“Yes you did, but the situation is somewhat more complex than you realize,” Sage told him. “You see, we have reason to suspect the accident was actually perpetrated by someone who wanted to kill Angela Walsh and if that is the case, we are worried he is going to try to come and kill you next.”
Mario looked at them both and asked why he would be someone’s target. “I haven’t done anything to anyone.”
“Unfortunately that isn’t really why he would come after you,” Felton told him. “You see, this person has been targeting select people throughout the city–”
“Wait, a serial killer?”
Felton hesitated but confirmed it. “My partner and I have been tracking him for nearly two months now and we feel that we’re closing in on him.”
“Well who is he?”
“We’re not sure of his actual identity,” Sage began, but we do know that he’s following a pattern and that if you are his next target, he will try to kill you.”
“How will you know if I’m next up though? Does this killer leave a note or a picture of who he’s targeting?”
Felton chuckled, “I wish…”
Sage hesitated to say it, “We’ll know if you…we’ll know if your behavior changes in the next couple of days.”
“Changes like how?”
“If you begin to exhibit odd…talents…”
“Would you just tell me what it is already?”
“If you gain…super powers,” he said flatly.
Mario stared at him, and blinked slowly, “Super…powers? Like flyin’ around the room, catching bullets in my hand, breaking solid concrete walls with my bare hands super powers?”
“Yes…”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” the man laughed, “Did you expect me to believe that?”
“No,” Felton told him. “But it’s unfortunately the truth.”
Mario stopped laughing. He looked at both of their stone-dead serious faces and paled. “You…You two aren’t joking.”
“Not in the least bit,” Sage sighed.
“How, how did you find out about this?”
“It’s a long, complicated story we don’t really have time to go into at the moment,” Felton told him.
“But if I gain super powers, then what do we do?” he asked.
&n
bsp; “If you do gain powers we’ll keep a twenty-four hour a day watch on you and if the murderer does try to come to kill you we’ll meet him and apprehend him.”
“Okay, but does this serial killer have his own super powers?”
Sage let out a breath and admitted that they were unsure. If he does though, we’ll find a way to stop him.”
“How can you be so sure you can?” Evanston asked. “What if he’s got lasers that come out of his eyes and he’s bulletproof?”
Felton stopped him. “We don’t know anything about this guy, so there’s no use in overreacting.”
“But–”
“We’re going to handle things Mario,” Felton continued, “Just let us handle things on our part. If you happen to discover some sort of power, let us know, and then we’ll take precautions to keep you safe.” He reminded Evanston that they weren’t even sure that he was the next target. “Just try to keep calm for now, alright?”
The detectives walked out of the room and regrouped with Chief Johnson, who asked, “The kid does raise a good point. What if Cladis does have his own super powers?”
Sage didn’t know how to answer them. He looked at the two of them and asked, “How do you kill a super hero?”
---*---
Chapter 7
August 22nd, 2029
1:15 PM
Bothell, Washington
Although he appreciated the small help Jessica was, Nick felt he needed to continue to investigate on his own. The event frightened him, as well as angered and confused him. None of it made any sense to him, as such he felt powerless to evoke any sort of change to the problem. Though he doubted he could truly make any difference in the matter, Nick felt he needed to at least try.
He sat at a computer in the King County Library in Bothell and tried to research the man Jessica found called the MP3 Assassin. Nick failed to uncover anything though, from the man’s real name to his recent whereabouts or even a photograph. He continually found information about some of the more famous assassinations he was responsible for, yet the articles themselves were useless for anything beyond a headline. The lack of information and Jessica’s thoughts on the situation caused doubt to swell within him.
Nick’s poor researching ethic and rather insufficient knowledge of how to accurately perform internet searches only proved to be a hindrance to him. He started with the most basic search engine, typed in relatively vague search terms, and started from the top and worked his way down the list in hope of answers. The immediate information he received was useless or completely irrelevant; it only served as a confirmation to what he already knew. In short, the only thing the process garnered was a reminder of why he loathed research in the first place.
Nick rubbed his forehead out of frustration as another useless website loaded on the rather slow computer. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he answered it without checking the ID or abiding to the library’s cell phone policy.
“Hello?”
“How are you doing?”
“Jordan?”
“Yeah.”
“I-I’m okay,” he lied. “I’m at the library.”
“Why?”
“I’m t-trying to d-distract m-myself for a while,” he lied again. “Wh-What are you doing?”
“I’m spending the day with Rachel. She’s ordering coffee or something so I thought I might just quickly call to see how you were holding up.”
“Thanks, b-but I-I’m getting better.” He took a shaky breath and asked Jordan how he was.
“I’m feeling better too. Rachel’s been a great help, considering how she’s been with me a lot of the time since it happened.” He sighed over the line and admitted, “I’m thinking about finding some sort of shrink or therapist though.”
“Why?”
“I’m having pretty bad nightmares,” he revealed. “That and my hands won’t stop shaking.”
He frowned. “Jordan, its only b-been s-six days. It’s going t-to t-take time.”
“I know…” He changed the subject, “Did you ever call Amy?” Nick muttered that he hadn’t and Jordan groaned and asked why he hesitated.
“I-I’ve been–”
As soon as Jordan realized that Nick had no reason he cut him off. “Nick, call her.”
“Why?”
“She needs to talk to you.” Jordan thanked Rachel over the call and Nick assumed he sipped his beverage and set it on a table before he continued, “Amy’s gotta be freaked out and because of that you need to call her.”
“B-But why me?”
“Because she likes you and if she could talk to you she’d probably start to feel better.”
Nick felt his heart leap in his chest. He hadn’t realized it.
Jordan apologized and told Nick he needed to go. “Call her though, okay?”
Nick closed his phone and remained silent. He shut his eyes tightly and focused on what Jordan said. Nick wasn’t accustomed to anyone having feelings for him and it alienated him. He’d never been on a date in his life or even fared well in general friendships outside of Jessica, though he believed they would be the last people on earth to ever fall in love with one another. The idea that anyone might even one day love him made him sick. Nick kept his eyes closed and took a few breaths before he opened them and logged off the computer.
He left the library and dialed Amy as soon as he was outside. It rang three times before she answered, “Hello?”
He took one apprehensive breath and started, “Hello, A-Amy? It’s Nick.”
“Oh, hey, how are you?”
“Fine.” He wavered where he stood and as he felt uneasy he decided he should take a seat on the walkway with his back to the building. Although he hoped to quell the restlessness he felt, he didn’t find much comfort. His stomach churned and his ears burned. He simply continued, “Jordan g-gave me your n-number. He th-thought I should c-call you to m-m-make sure you’re okay.”
She giggled over the line and Nick’s heart stopped. Amy thanked him, “I was going to call you, but I wasn’t sure if you were busy or not.”
He thought to say that he wasn’t ever busy but refrained. She asked how he was holding up, he told her, “I-I’m managing. H-How about you?”
“I still can’t sleep,” she admitted. “I have nightmares when I do. It’s always a dream about that guy coming after me.”
Nick wanted to say it wouldn’t happen, but truthfully he felt the same way, that the killer might come after him too. He lied and told her that would never happen, “Wh-Why would anyone want t-t-to kill you?”
She let out a breath and told him she knew it was silly. “I don’t think anyone would, I just…I’m just scared. I mean, who would want to kill Crystal of all people?”
“I-I’m not sure.”
“That’s why I’m scared.”
Nick wasn’t sure what to say. He thought to tell her everything would be fine, that no one would ever come to hurt her, but he felt the words would sound empty.
Amy asked, “Are…” she hesitated, “Are you nervous?”
“About what?”
“About that party you’re going to,” she clarified.
The party escaped his mind days ago. He chuckled, “N-Now, that y-you mentioned it, yes.”
“I’m sure it won’t be too terrible.”
He agreed. A thought came to him suddenly, though at the start he disregarded it, he gave the idea another moment of thought and asked, “Did…Did you want to go w-with me?”
“To the party?”
“Yes.”
She paused, “As a date?”
He felt flush at the words, at the mere suggestion of such a thing. The pit in his gut burned and his mind raced to her rejecting him, mocking him, and days of self-loathing and burning hatred directed inward. Nick trembled and took another breath before he suggested that they could go as friends if she wanted. “It’s okay i-if you d-don’t want to…”
“No,” she stopped him, “I do. I’d love to go with you.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged (but realized the action was wasted), “I-I don’t know. Wh-What do you like?”
“Anything really.”
“Japanese?”
“Sure. When’s the party?”
They made plans and Nick felt his nagging fear slowly release and he believed it was the first good thing to happen in the past few months. He thought his brother would be proud of him too, proud that he actually planned on doing something beyond his usual threshold. Amy’s lighthearted tone made him smile. He worried about her at the start of their conversation, but she sounded better, happier even. Nick could tell she still hadn’t recovered from the incident; he and Jordan seemed to be getting better, but after the past few days she seemed just as frightened as when it happened.
Nick hadn’t stopped to consider that in the past week his brother was killed and that he’d witnessed a murder a day later; he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t traumatized or suffering from a complete mental breakdown. He believed he should have been, he thought normal people would be, but he wasn’t. Nick would still cry if he thought about the loss of his brother for too long, but he felt he was beginning to get better, beginning to move on. He didn’t know whether Crystal’s murder shocked him from his sorrow or if such a thing was possible, but he believed he was getting better. He did continue to harbor hatred for whoever killed Victor though.
Even as he sat outside the library discussing their date he felt tears reach his eyes and felt as if everything around him may have begun to restore itself. He wiped the tears away silently and happily engaged himself in the conversation with Amy, who sounded just as content as he felt.
---*---
4:25 PM
Baltimore, Maryland
Mario Evanston sat with his back to the wall in the small interrogation room he’d made a home out of, with a wide grin on his face. He had asked to speak to Detective Sage again and waited his arrival. Evanston’s room was small, with only a one-way window that reflected his image. A cot, small table, and his chair were all that furnished his domain. Atop the table was a bottle of water.
Impact (Book 1): Regenesis Page 15
