by L. Eira
“If they were involved, we’ll find them.”
“Lambert, have the men spread out from here. Look everywhere in these woods. The killer has to be walking around—”
The choppy voice of the walkie-talkie on his belt interrupted him. “Police Chopper to Detective Sparks. We have some people walking away from the scene about a mile northwest of your position.”
“Roger that. Don’t lose sight of them. I’m sending some men that way.” Sparks repositioned the radio on its holder. “Sarge, get the dogs and a few men and follow the sound of the helicopter. Find those people and bring them back here. I betcha it’s those damned kids.”
Older Ellie and the teenagers entered the cave and walked deep inside. Soon they were behind the huge boulder that isolated the hidden compartment they were in from the body of the cavern.
“The proximity-alert app is set,” said Future Ellie. “If anyone comes within one hundred feet from the cave’s entrance, this will vibrate.” She placed the gizmo on a rock next to another gadget, this one brightly illuminating their hideout.
“So, now what?” said Brent.
“Kids, one of our strengths has been, and will be well into the future, our ability to sit together and talk things through,” said Older Ellie. “When things get rough for any of us, we get together and hash it out. Good things always come out of our conversations. So let’s do that.”
“The first issue is William,” said Younger Ellie.
“In my timeline, the cops come up with all kinds of evidence to incriminate you in Doug’s murder, William, and I let you down.” Older Ellie bowed her head. “I began to believe the authorities and doubt you.” She raised her head, her gaze now on William. “But I will not let you down this time. If you say you didn’t do it, that’s what I’ll believe. And we will prove your innocence.”
“I didn’t do it,” said William, his gaze on Older Ellie’s, his face grim.
“Tell us exactly what happened,” said Brent.
William stood and took a deep breath. “I was depressed and confused. I knew Doug would eventually follow the iPhone signal to me. So I waited.” His eyes scanned the concerned faces of his friends. “When he showed up, I told him to shoot me. He wouldn’t. I took the gun away from him and pointed it at his head. I was so angry, I wanted to pull the trigger. But I couldn’t do it either. I threw the gun on the ground and walked away, while he wept like a baby.” William bowed his head for a long moment, and then his eyes returned to meet the others. “I was coming back to find you when I heard a gunshot. I ran back and saw Doug. He was dead. One bullet hole in his head. The gun was gone. I panicked and ran away. That’s when I saw you three.” William sat back down, his head down.
“As soon as the police leave the area, we’ll go look for clues,” said Older Ellie. “If you’re implicated this time, we’ll find something. I promise. I won’t give up on you.”
Younger Ellie stood up and began a slow pace. She turned to her older self. “Earlier today, we met Zack and Mackenzie, twins from the future. You told us you don’t know them in your future.”
“No, not in my timeline,” said Older Ellie. “But I met them too. Nearly dead from gunshot wounds to the abdomen. I tried to save them.”
“We were there when they were shot,” said Brent. “We were wondering what happened to them.”
“I found you two unconscious from a neural depolarizer blast and the twins shot. I did all I could for them, but they were too badly hurt. Too much damage to their internal organs.”
“So they died?” asked William.
“I don’t know. I summoned…” Older Ellie got up on her feet. “I have to tell you about Alexandra.”
“The little albino girl,” said William. “I saw her in a dream.”
“Yes, that’s how she communicates with me,” said Older Ellie. “In dreams. I don’t know who she is. But she’s the one who showed me how to manufacture the time-traveling capsule. I used to think she was God or maybe an alien being of sorts here to help humankind out of this global war that is about to destroy the planet.”
Younger Ellie squinted. “What we learned before meeting you was different. The world was self-destructing due to massive heart attacks caused by the interaction of a virus and a drug called…” She looked at the boys. “What was it? Enox—”
“Enoxepin?” said William.
“Enoxadin!” said Brent.
“Never heard of anything like that,” said Older Ellie, her eyes squinted. “The twins told you that?”
“Yes,” said Younger Ellie, “and we saw footage they brought back in time of when Valerie was older and talking to Brent.”
“Did you know Valerie?” asked William.
“A long, long time ago. She died from a severe peanut allergy. You were with her, William. You and Brent tried to save her, but she died.”
“So we have two future timelines,” said Brent. “Yours, which ends with global war, and another in which Valerie discovers something that ends up killing billions from heart attacks.”
“Either way, we’re screwed,” said William. “The world ends in forty years.”
Sparks paced back and forth while the criminologists gathered evidence from around the crime scene.
A voice came over the walkie-talkie. “We found two adult males walking away from your location and toward a cabin deep in the woods. It’s a crack house. They’re making meth in there. We apprehended two more. They deny killing anybody or having a gun but do admit to drug dealing.”
“Bring them in for questioning,” said Sparks. “Establish a timeline of their whereabouts. The murder was about an hour ago. What do they say they were doing at that time?”
“Making a drug deal a couple of miles away.”
“Good work, Nichols,” said Sparks. “Find the other party. We need to corroborate their story. Then book them all for drug dealing.”
“You think you got the killer, Detective?” said one of the CSI people.
“Nah. These guys will be innocent. I know exactly who did this. One of those nasty kids. They’ve been riding my ass all week. I’ll get to the bottom of this and see the little bastards hang.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Brent noticed the similarities between both present Ellie and her future self. How they paced during tough conversations. The way they squinted their eyes, as equal furrows formed on their foreheads. How they bit their lower lips, and even how they verbalized issues.
“What do you make of this future doom?” said Younger Ellie. “Two different futures. How? Why?”
“Good question,” said Older Ellie. “I don’t know.”
“Can you ask Alexandra?” asked William.
“I’ll try.” Older Ellie sat back down on a prominent rock. “I think she left with the twins. But I’ll try.”
“Where did she take them?” asked Brent.
“I don’t know. Probably the future, where they can get organic spleen, liver, and colon transplants.”
“So why different futures?” asked Brent.
Both Ellies squinted again, equally. Very much alike, only Older Ellie had more wrinkles. Brent grinned.
Younger Ellie spoke first. “And if we were living the other future line where people die from a viral infection, how did you appear in this past life? If coming back to the past changed the future from this point on, then you shouldn’t exist yet, not until we grow older in a different timeline.”
“Different universes?” said Brent.
“Who knows?” said the Ellie from the future. “Pretty confusing, huh?”
“Let’s put this discussion on hold,” said Younger Ellie, noticing William’s quiet and sad demeanor. “For now, we need to figure out who really killed Doug and get William off the hook for it.”
Sparks was tired of waiting for the CSI team to finish gathering evidence. They seemed to be taking forever.
“How much more time, Hunter?” he asked the head criminologist. “I think our CSI team is the slow
est in the land.”
“These things take time and patience, Detective Sparks,” Hunter replied. “Lots of patience.” He stood up and looked around the crime scene. “Maybe another hour. Two at most.” He crouched over the dead body again, and his full attention returned to the task.
Sparks walked away, his head shaking. “Tim Hunter,” he whispered. The badge should really say Dim instead of Tim, he thought. And gatherer instead of hunter.
“Detective Sparks,” he heard from behind him.
He turned around. “What did you find, Nichols?”
“We found the other drug dealers and have them all in custody. But they corroborated the whole story. It doesn’t look like any of these people were the doers. The killer’s still out there.”
“Keep looking,” said Sparks. “I’m sure the killers are the three teenagers we interrogated earlier today. Headquarters is sending their pictures here. Give them out to all the men, and keep searching for them. They’re here somewhere. And watch out. They’re armed and dangerous.”
With a nod, Nichols turned around and left.
Sparks walked around the yellow-taped perimeter of the crime scene, farther away with each pass.
About thirty minutes into his search, after several go-rounds, Sparks stopped suddenly and squatted down by a large tree trunk. There were bushes and a myriad of rocks of all sizes and shapes around the spot. On the bole was a hollow, a cavity fashioned by years of decay and rot. The opening was half covered by leaves and flat stones. He removed the rock and immediately spotted the shiny reflection of the metal portion of the revolver.
“Hunter,” he yelled out. “I found the murder weapon.” Then he whispered to himself, “Got you! This time I got you for good.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“How did it all go down in your past?” asked William. “How does the police implicate me in the murder?”
“There’s fingerprint evidence on the gun,” said Older Ellie. “They build a case against you, but, really, the only solid proof was the fingerprints.” She bowed her head. “The first time around, there was nothing we could do to help you, William. Well, not this time. I’m not letting you go to jail. I believe in your innocence.”
“How will we help him now?” said Younger Ellie.
“If I can get the gun for a minute, I can change the fingerprints on it to fingerprints that belong to nobody.”
“OK, let’s get the gun,” said Brent. “Where is it?”
“I left it with Doug. He began to cry and knelt down on the ground. I threw the pistol at his feet and walked away.”
“If that’s the case, I would think the police already have it by now,” said Younger Ellie. “How can we get it from them?”
“They’re looking for three teenagers. Not an old woman. I want to try to do this by myself, kids.” Older Ellie squinted. “You kids wait here until I get back. Don’t leave this hidden compartment.”
Chief CSI Tim Hunter pushed Sparks aside. He assessed the newly discovered crime scene, this one a scooped-out hollow pocket on a humongous oak tree trunk. He pointed his flashlight at the gun as one of his colleagues took multiple pictures. Their attention next turned to the ground surrounding the oak. More pictures. Then the rocks, mosses, bushes, and flowers. More pictures.
“Hunter, can I take the Beretta yet?” said Sparks. “I’m leaving. Going back to headquarters.”
Hunter thought for a second, and then looked at the CSI man holding the camera, who gave a nod. “Go ahead. We’re done with the gun.”
“I’m out of here.” Sparks advanced toward the oak, causing CSI Hunter to gasp.
“Gloves, Detective Sparks. You need gloves if you’re going to handle the weapon.”
“Don’t you think I know that, Hunter?” Sparks put on a pair of blue latex gloves from a box nearby and removed the Beretta from its partial hiding place. He dropped it into a clear plastic bag labeled “Evidence” and sealed it. He walked off and never looked back at the bunch of nerdy gatherers.
When he reached the path where he had parked his car, he found a whole bunch of gatherers around the Camaro, yellow tape isolating that crime scene.
“Crime scene here, crime scene there, crime scene everywhere,” whispered Sparks. “These people could go a lot quicker if they didn’t spend so much time with the yellow tape.”
Then Sparks saw a woman trying to open the driver’s door of his locked car. She tried to put her face up against the driver’s window, but her cap got in her way. She block out the ambient light with her hands. When she turned around and faced Sparks, he saw that she was older, maybe in her sixties. Pretty old, even for a gatherer. She was wearing blue overalls, the choice attire of the CSI team and a blue baseball cap with the letters CSI embroidered on it in big letters.
“Excuse me,” he yelled as he picked up his pace toward his vehicle. “What are you doing to my car?”
“Oh, sorry, Officer,” said the woman. “I’m new here. Misty Shores.” She rushed toward him, her hand extended.
“Sparks,” he said reluctantly. “Pleasure.” He shook her hand.
“Your car is in my way,” she said with a smile. “I need to look under it. I believe there are footprints under it. May be the murderer’s. We can never tell. I was going to get on my back and then slide under the car, but this bad back. If I did, I wouldn’t get up for days. I mean, what is it with backs, right? You get down on the ground, and then you can’t get up on your feet. Do you ever get that way?” She lowered her voice a notch. “Wow, I’m jabbering, aren’t I? When I get nervous, I’m a babbler. I talk, talk, talk. I can’t shut up. Well, OK, I’ll shut up now. I think you probably want to speak. But you can’t right? Not if I’m talking like—”
Sparks smirked. “I’m leaving. You can analyze the ground under my—”
“Is that the gun the perpetrator used in the crime?” she said with a gasp. “Thirty years on the job, you’d think I’d be used to seeing the weapon used to waste a human life by now. No. I still get horripilation. I mean, what’s the vernacular? Ah yes, gooseflesh. All over. Look!” She pointed at her bumpy skin. “I mean—”
“Look,” interrupted Sparks. He squinted at her.
“Oh, Misty Shores. Ms. Misty Shores. Well, really Doctor Misty Shores. But you don’t have to call me doctor. Just Ms. Misty. I mean, no, just Misty.” She took a deep breath. “Just Misty.”
“Great. Misty. I have to go now. I’ll move the car.” Sparks tossed a wan smile.
“May I take the gun? You don’t know me about this.” She smirked. “I mean, you don’t about me know this.” She shook her head violently for a moment, and then stopped. “Misty, deep breath.” She sighed intensely, and then said, her words staccato, “You don’t know this about me, but I’m an expert on dactyloscopy. I mean, what’s the vernacular?” Another grin. “Ah yeah, fingerprint analysis. I can have this analyzed and back to you in—”
“Misty, I want to take it back to headquarters. It helps me think when I hold on to the murder weapon. I don’t get whatever you called goose bumps. The murder weapon relaxes me and helps me think. So I—”
“Say no more, Officer. Say no more. I understand one hundred percent. It’s not like the fingerprints are so important right now.” She looked side to side, and then back at Sparks and whispered. “The dead boy isn’t going anywhere. Am I right? Stick the gun on the pile. Hey, the lab tech will get to it when the lab tech gets to it, am I right?”
“On second thought,” said Sparks. “You can have it. But I don’t want you to do the analysis. I want you to take the gun to the fingerprint tech I know and trust, CSI Kirk Kigler. He’s expecting the evidence and will work on it right now. Can you do that? You’d be saving me a trip to headquarters.”
“Yes, sir. Your wish is my command,” she said, with a mock military salute.
Sparks extended his hand with the bagged revolver when he heard a voice behind him.
It was Chief CSI Tim Hunter. His gaze was on Misty. “Who the he
ll are you? And more importantly, what are you doing at my crime scene? I didn’t give permission for you to be part of this investigation.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Deep in the cave, inside the locked compartment, the teenagers were getting antsy.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” said Brent. “Can’t hold it in any longer.”
“Me too,” said William. “And I need a bit of fresh air.”
Using the gravify app, the kids moved the enormous boulder that served as the door to their refuge. The three walked around the rock and, in the pitch black, fumbled their way outside the cave.
A few minutes after they arrived at the clearing right outside the cave’s mouth, the proximity app vibrated wildly as it sat on a flat rock inside the hideout compartment. A red light blinked synchronously with the device’s juddering. Two police officers approached the teens from the woods. The kids remained unaware, their backs to the approaching officers.
“Put your hands in the air,” yelled one of the cops. “Turn around slowly. No sudden moves.”
The kids obeyed and slowly turned to face the officers. The police held guns, the barrels menacingly pointing in the kids’ direction.
“Where were you about two hours ago?” demanded one of the cops.
“We’ve been here,” said Brent.
“Bullshit,” said the cop.
“Do you know a Doug Payner?” said another cop.
“Not very well,” said Ellie. “He goes to a different school.”
“Did one of you kill him?”
“Kill him?” said Brent. “No way!”
“Well, Detective Sparks thinks otherwise,” said one of the cops. “We’re bringing you in for questioning.”
“Hi, I’m a new hire,” she said. “Misty Shores.” She extended her hand, and Hunter shook it reluctantly. “Well, new here in town. I’m old. In chronological age. And on the job. I’ve been a criminologist for decades. Wow, I’m really old, aren’t I? On the job for almost four decades. Wow! I’ve worked in Philadelphia, Chicago, Kansas City, and—”
