One In A Million (The Millionth Trilogy Book 1)

by Tony Faggioli

  “So?”

  “He logged into a number of places: Bank of America, Mint.com, Yahoo News. But he hardly spent any time on them. Then it gets interesting. He went to Google Maps and looked up a few addresses. No print history, so…”

  “Probably just wrote them down.”

  “Yep. But then he went to Zillow and inputted the same addresses.”

  “Where at?”

  “Great.” Parker shook his head.

  “What?”

  “South of here.”

  “South?”

  “Yeah. La Jolla and Coronado.”

  “He’s backtracking?”

  “Looks that way. But why?”

  “We can ask the wife. Probably has family down that way. Or friends.”

  “Well, I’ve got a few names: Larry Klein and Timothy Reardon. He Googled them like crazy.”

  “Why Google someone you already know?”

  “My guess?” Parker asked, surprised.

  “No. I’m asking the damned computer monitor for its opinion.”

  “No phone. He ditched it. Probably looking for phone numbers.”

  Napoleon nodded. “Makes sense. These days no one remembers phone numbers. They just plug them into their contact list and speed-dial them.”

  “That, or he’s too stressed to remember, so he comes here.”

  Napoleon had his own notepad open. “Larry Klein and Timothy Reardon?”

  “Yep.”

  A good clue and a few solid leads, and Napoleon felt the stirrings of some juices inside of him, just like he used to get. It was the thrill of the hunt. They had a lead on Kyle Fasano, it seemed, and to top it off, his cold finally felt like it was subsiding a little.

  “Hmm,” Parker said, “that’s not all”

  “What else?”

  “He went to Facebook too. Didn’t log in as himself though, assuming he has an account.”

  Napoleon frowned. This was getting interesting. “What’d he do?”

  “He created a bogus profile, then searched Klein and Reardon.”

  “Can we see what he did after that?”

  “Not unless we can login to the bogus profile. We’d have to guess at the password, which could take forever. Or we can call Palo Alto.”

  “Palo Alto?”

  “Facebook headquarters.”

  “Yeah, right. We’ll need a subpoena for that, and it will cost us time.”

  “Guessing passwords will too.”

  Napoleon stopped to think for a bit. “I agree, but we can try a few, I guess. Passwords usually have some relation to the login name. What was it?”

  Parker squinted at the screen. “Hmm. Weird. Do I have this wrong?”

  “What?”

  “Fasano’s a white dude, but he picked a Spanish name.”

  Napoleon scowled. “No shit? What?”

  “Joaquin. Joaquin Murrieta?”

  It was as if Parker had spat in Napoleon’s face or called his mother a whore. The words flew off his tongue like sprayed venom.

  “What the hell did you just say?”

  Parker was startled. “What? Shit. I just said the name.”

  “Say it again.”

  “Joaquin Murrieta.”

  All the blood in Napoleon’s body flushed ice cold and his throat tightened as if a large hand were around it, choking him.

  Instantly Napoleon thought of little Esmeralda in her tan dress and that puddle of blood. That huge puddle of blood. How could a child have so much blood?

  “Joaquin Murrieta? You’re sure?”

  “You okay man?” Parker asked from a million miles away.

  Napoleon felt dizzy for a second but pulled it together, intent on not losing it in front of the rookie. “Yeah. Fine. Finish the interview with the old lady. You’re on your own there. I’ll meet you outside at the car.”

  “What?”

  Napoleon turned and walked swiftly out of the library. He needed fresh air, something to get his mind off that miserable murderer’s face in the courtroom that day. That smile. Watch what I do next, homie.

  Once in the parking lot, he couldn’t help himself. He darted behind a row of dying hedges and puked, the whole time repeating his own personal mantra: there were no such things as coincidences. There were no such things as coincidences. There were no such things as coincidences. Which now begged a question.

  How in the world did Kyle Fasano know about Joaquin Murrieta?

  CHAPTER 17

  The bus ride to Monterey was going to take a good four hours. That was a long ride to be sitting fifteen feet from an agent of hell, but Kyle was managing to block her, and all the negative thoughts she stirred up in him, by saying, of all things, the Lord’s Prayer. He was surprised to find that he still remembered it. Though he went to church most weekends, it was mostly for the kids and to appease Tamara.

  But there was no mistaking the power of that prayer. The painful memories within him and the fear of the thing sitting so nearby subsided each time he prayed, so he did so repeatedly: “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…”

  Glancing up at Bonespur, he was stunned at what he saw. Her face had gone slack, and her eyes were locked in a faraway stare at the wall behind Kyle, as if she were slipping into a static state.

  No. Pay attention. She’s no longer…

  Watching.

  She can’t watch while you pray. It hurts her to do so.

  Kyle shifted in his seat. These thoughts disrupted his prayers, but there still seemed to be some lasting effect because Bonespur still wasn’t moving.

  Again, he had to stave off the idea that he was going mad. What was happening to his life? What did all of this mean? How could it be? Wasn’t this all stuff you told yourself maybe you believed in, but then again, maybe you didn’t? He still wasn’t fully convinced.

  That was it. His thoughts of going mad were his stubborn way of insisting, even now, after all that had happened, that maybe it still wasn’t real.

  A creeping unease spread to his core, because if he couldn’t fully believe now, after all he’d seen, then what was it going to take to finally convince him? He didn’t even want to think about that.

  Bonespur’s hands were folded in her lap, like a good schoolchild, but Kyle noticed one of her fingers twitch, just barely. He was going to pray again but stopped himself. If his theory were true, he had to test it. He’d only said the prayer a few times. Now he would see how long it took her to reanimate.

  He took a deep breath. He was so tired, but sleep was a faraway fantasy.

  Keeping his mind busy, he thought of Monterey, situated on the Central California coastline, of Cannery Row and of the restaurant at the end of the pier that served fantastic clam chowder.

  He’d taken the family there on more than one occasion, mostly so the kids could check out the aquarium, but Kyle always loved it there. The sea was a darker shade of blue, almost purple in places, with jagged rocks throughout the bay that almost always played host to a basking seal or two.

  It was a strange coincidence that on all those visits he’d been within miles of his first love’s home and never knew it. He wondered if he’d ever walked right past Victoria on the street, or parked his car across from hers at the gas station while heading back home from vacation. Had she seen him? Had she wanted to say something to him?

  He wondered if her hair was still long and brown, if it still seemed to glow with soft yellow streaks whenever she was in direct sunlight, or if her lips still curved slightly downward at the edges even when she smiled.

  A heartache from lost youth stirred in him, and he remembered the very first time he made her laugh. It was as if the air around her electrified. He’d broken through those inner clouds of hers, in spite of her best efforts to the contrary. She looked at him suddenly, with such a unique and precious expression, as if the sound of her own laugh was a surprise to even her. And Kyle knew, at that very second, that she’d fallen in love with him, which was good because he’d fallen in l
ove with her too, her laugh the final bridge they needed to cross to really meet each other.

  Kyle came back to the present, to the bus, and when he did he realized he had a small smile on his face.

  It disappeared as soon as he looked up and saw Bonespur staring at him again. He tried to look away, but in her eyes he saw reflected there the bitterness and regret that were the true remnants of all those sentimental memories: he’d discounted his feelings for Victoria after they’d finally had sex, even though her love for him was only growing, and then a while later he went off to the Colorado River for a family reunion just before their senior year and made out with a girl from Arizona, never telling anyone except his cousins.

  When Bonespur spoke, Kyle jumped in his skin. “Made out? Oh, come now, boy. So good at lying to yourself, aren’t you? What really happened? Why… you sprouted ten thumbs and couldn’t keep your hands off her, could you?” Her voice was raspy and electronic, a product of one of those voice boxes that heavy smokers use near the end of their lives. “You would’ve gladly screwed her too if she hadn’t said no. Such a looong walk back to your tent that night wasn’t it? With the worst case of blue balls too. Tee-hee!”

  Kyle was speechless in the face of this memory, long buried within him, that she’d somehow exhumed.

  Bonespur cackled softly, lowered her chin and leered at him.

  Kyle’s mind slipped a little and then data flooded him again. This creature wasn’t just a watcher. She was a deceiver. She and her kind destroyed people through their minds. And this one was good. She had destroyed countless lives. Over the years. No. Over a century.

  Glancing around quickly at the other passengers on the bus, Kyle saw, for the third time in his life now, that the world had frozen in place, as if everyone was tucked off in some corner of the universe that was impervious to time.

  Sneering, Bonespur leaned slightly forwards, as if to share a little secret between the two of them. “Come now, boy. Tell me how much you loved your dear Victoria while you were with the other girl, you randy little pig.”

  He wasn’t crazy. Not yet anyway. But her voice? He knew at his core that her voice, which ended every sentence with a long, sucking sound, would drive him mad if he let her keep talking.

  “Our Father, who art in heaven…” Kyle tried to start again.

  “That trick won’t fool me twice, boy. You only got me because I thought you were further along in your training. I never expected such a simple tactic. You’re still so human. It will be so delightful to drink your blood soon.”

  “Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “Oh. I guess not, but let’s go on. About that night, with your cousins? You wanted to talk about what you did, didn’t you? Let’s go all the way with this story, baby.” And this time she managed a full laugh, deep and hearty. “What else did you do, you little pig-man?”

  “Stop…”

  “Why, you wanted to tell them all the details about what you did.”

  “Our Father, who art in heaven—”

  “Shut up. I’m not finished.”

  “Yes, you are. I won’t listen anymore.”

  “What? Not even about your darling Victoria?”

  Kyle swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure, but Bonespur’s face seemed to be bleeding more now, as if all the talking was stretching and tearing the scar tissue around all her spurs, which were glistening beneath the fluorescent lights in the bus.

  “Do you know that she never loved like that again, the way she loved you? It was utterly spectacular the way you ruined her. We rejoiced, you know, my brethren and I. That’s how we knew you were special, even back then. Such… a profound effect on another human being, and at such a young age. You were gifted. A true catalyst for evil.”

  Looking around the bus for an exit, Kyle realized it was no use; he would have to get past her to get off the bus, and he doubted she was going to let that happen.

  “So she decided she lost you because she wasn’t sexy enough. Kinky enough. Dirty enough. Did you know that?”

  “You’re a liar.”

  “No. Really. So in college she got a little wild. Oh my. The things she did.”

  “Screw you.”

  “Ahhh.” Bonespur leaned her head back slightly and closed her eyes in a brief display of pleasure, as if his discomfort were a blown kiss.

  Sitting up again, she straightened her skirt and continued. “So. Anyway. There’s pretty much nothing she hasn’t tried in bed now.”

  It were as if he’d been stabbed by her words, and now wounded he could think of nothing else to do… until something dawned on him. Each time he’d tried to pray, Bonespur had cut him off. She even rather convincingly tried to downplay what he’d pulled off earlier, when he’d stunned her. But what if…

  “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name—”

  “Shut up!”

  “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done—”

  “I said shut up, you dribbling piece of shit!”

  Kyle looked into Bonespur’s eyes again, and this time there was fear reflected in the contorted mask of her face, her eyes swimming in confusion and the blood from her spurs dribbling down her cheeks and neck. She began garbling in a cascade of unintelligible languages, as if trying to counter Kyle’s prayer.

  “On earth, as it is in heaven.” Again he felt the blue begin to course through him, fainter this time, less a pulse and more a charge. “Please give us this day, our daily bread…”

  Bonespur didn’t even try to get up; instead she folded her arms backwards, like a spider, the bones and joints in her upper torso cracking. She climbed up across the bus seat, away from Kyle, until her hands hit the bus window and her bony fingers scratched at the latch to open it.

  Kyle felt the simplest of guidance again, from far off. “And forgive us our trespasses…”

  She glared at him. “You pig-shit little bastard, shut up, shut your filthy mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

  Kyle pushed on. “… as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

  She screamed at the word “forgive,” as if he had slapped her. Kyle maintained his focus on her face, but it wasn’t easy; her hands behind her were moving at such speed, but the simple logic of the latch seemed beyond her.

  “I’m warning you, boy. Don’t say it.”

  Kyle was afraid he’d forgotten the rest of the prayer, that wouldn’t have been good, but then it came to him. “And lead us not into temptation…but deliver us from evil.”

  Shrieking, she bared fangs at him that seemed to grow instantly from her gums.

  Kyle continued, “For thine is the kingdom… and the power and the glory…”

  Her red eyes flared as her fingers finally loosened the latch.

  “Forever and ever… Amen.”

  It was when she opened her mouth wide and her jaw unhinged and opened even further that Kyle knew he was in trouble. The buzzing within her erupted and flies began to pour out of her in waves, throughout the whole bus. With pure disgust Kyle realized that they were combing over his face and at the corners of his lips, trying to burrow into his mouth.

  Thank God he had started the prayer when he did. There were so many flies he might never have been able to finish otherwise. They swarmed over him, as if to cocoon him in filth and germs. A few tried climbing up his nostrils.

  Her voice pierced his brain. “You’re lucky that I’m not allowed to chew out your eyes, boy. This time. Remember that. But maybe I’ll see you again. Until then? Remember this too…”

  The bus exploded in black and the image came to him: Vinnie, all grown now, only visited on his birthday and holidays, sitting alone and sad at the care home Kyle and his mother had chosen for him. Staring out at a world that didn’t understand him.

  Wondering why, after all this time, even his brother didn’t either.

  The weight of the image thrust upon Kyle by the wicked creature that had now crawled out of the bus window was crushing him. “No,
no, no, no, no…”

  Then it was over.

  The bus, the driver, the people on board were all back in their places, undisturbed. The world outside the window began to pick up speed and Kyle collapsed sideways in his seat, drained beyond imagination, as reality was set into motion again.

  The conversations of the rest of the passengers and the hum of the bus engine resumed, and Kyle knew he was safe, at least for a little while.

  Then he fell into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER 18

  By the time Parker had finished in the library and made his way to the car, Napoleon had managed to get himself together. Not so much by figuring out this odd turn of events, but by simply forcing himself to set it aside for now. When something in a case didn’t make sense, sometimes that was the best thing to do. But Napoleon was running out of room in his head for the things he was setting aside in this case though. There was the crime scene, the video footage and now this.

  The sun hung like a stone over a distant mountain, casting partial shadows from the clouds down over the rolling plains, giving Beaury the momentary appearance of some sleepy little town in Kansas or something.

  This place was the utter opposite of anywhere Napoleon ever lived, and he imagined the cops here would be different too. Time would tell.

  Parker cleared his throat, opened the car door and got in while Napoleon braced himself for the questions that were sure to follow.

  “You good?” Parker asked.

  Here it comes. Napoleon nodded.

  Instead, Parker didn’t press. He simply put the key in the ignition, started the car and said, “Where to next?”

  Napoleon swiftly did the calculus. At least he could still figure out Parker. The case? Not so much. But Parker? No problem. He’d been in the library a little longer than expected before reappearing. Napoleon smiled. For the first time he sensed that the rookie had real potential. He’d had the balls to mock the captain earlier, and now he’d had the balls to dig up the dirt on his own partner.