by Rick Murcer
Dean sighed. “Yep, that’s what I thought you’d say. I’m trying. It’s just that I’ve not met anyone like her. She fits every profile of a dream woman I’ve ever had . . . well, aside from the changing of my wardrobe part, but I can live with that.”
“What about the unit? One of you would have to leave. The FBI is pretty tight with that regulation as Manny and Chloe have discovered.”
“That’s true. I suspect that might be part of what she’s thinking. So maybe she’s looking out for more than just us?” asked Dean.
“Hard to believe but I think she has that in her. So yeah, she’s thinking ahead.”
Stroking his beard, Dean felt his admiration grow another leap for Sophie. The woman was ahead of his thinking and that didn’t happen to him very often.
“Okay. I’ll just play it by ear and not put the cart in front of the horse, for now.”
“Good call. And like Manny says, if that’s what God wants, it’ll happen.”
“He does say that . . .”
Suddenly, the vehicle was forced out of its lane by an unseen impact. A second hit sent the SUV diving for the ditch. Dean spun into the forced exodus from the highway, trying desperately to right the truck, wondering what had happened. Pungent gas infiltrated the vehicle just as he heard Alex yell. The SUV slid off the road, rolling over the steep embankment.
CHAPTER-26
Slowly, with patience she’d exhibited all of her life, Aphrodite began the procedure of pulling off the long, black, padded glove shrouding her left hand. She’d not changed the glove for two days, which was against doctor’s orders, then again, her current string of dates—and the ending results—was probably not on her list of approved activities either.
She shifted her weight in the wicker chair at the foot of her bed and glanced up at the mirror above the dresser. She stopped what she was doing to pull strands of coal black hair away from her face.
“Damn girl, you’re looking a little tired. Might need a night off,” she said. “Nothing like a few special videos and a good bottle of wine to help recharge.”
Therein lived the problem, however. Lily didn’t want to take a night off. Not now, not for as long as she could continue to set the table for her appetite. That was the key, wasn’t it? Finding the source to feed the beast, so to speak. And, in her case, that source existed of men who wanted her, and men that she wanted—albeit different expectations for each abounded. The mutual lust and need fashioned a match made in Utopia. She never dreamed her love life could be like this. Hell, she never even dared to dream until a few months ago.
Reaching toward the elbow-high glove again, she began to unroll it and, when she reached her wrist, hesitated, then finished pulling it off. This time there was no wince of pain or even a hint of discomfort. She stared at the unnatural limb. She slowly ran her hand over it as she rotated it as far as she could in both directions, stopping only to touch crevices, subtleties, and odd surfaces that hadn’t been there before. If she’d been the kind to be concerned with physical appearance, she might be freaked out. Since that kind of perspective didn’t register with her, she was far more fascinated with what her hand could bring to the table. The condition of the limb portrayed a weakness not present in her, and that deception alone would continue to be an advantage she would wield. The same could be said of her leg and all it had endured. But now these were simply tools in the ultimate quest.
Still, she hadn’t enjoyed what it had taken to get her to this point. Who would? In fact, there were more than a few people who wondered why she hadn’t gone insane.
Little did they know . . .
But there was nothing she could do about that today, and, in the end, she’d realized how instrumental her misfortune had been regarding her evolution, as it were. It had brought unbelievable strength. Strength to do what people like her were made to do.
Her mind flashed back to that night several months prior. She remembered seeing the moon shining full and a fragrance only the ocean could bring before all Hell had broken loose. Nothing could have been more painful, more shocking, yet she was enlightened at the same time.
She closed her eyes and decided not to visit the details again, but she knew if that fateful night—and all it taught her—hadn’t occurred, she might still be hidden under a bushel, so to speak.
After replacing the glove, Lily ambled back to her sofa and sat down. A moment later, she was in full fascination mode as she stared intently at the screen of the laptop as it restarted the looping function with the fresh DVD she’d just made. Scarecrow Man lay prone on the hotel floor, that same look on his face as the others. She could sense his fear, feel his pain, and smell his confusion. Each second of the video showing her actions, her determination, hell, her outright pleasure, began to create that feeling again. That swelling of emotion she’d always known was possible, that, up until the last two weeks, hadn’t been real. Yet they had a face now, didn’t they? Each turn of the corkscrew, each curl of the scalpel guided by her fingers fanned the flame until the final stitch was hooked through his thin lips. Then the video was over.
Her labored breath began to recover as she held her hand to her chest, her mind encouraging her heart to slow, but not wanting it to at the same time. She held to it as long as she could but, eventually, the uncompromised rise the video had given her disappeared, as usual.
Yet, this one had been more intense than the others and she was trying to understand why. She stilled, eyes closed, going over each moment to see if she’d done anything differently, or perhaps he had. Was it the added danger of being exposed? Maybe, but she doubted it. Then what? She only knew the experience had been . . . deeper.
A few minutes later, she moved to the kitchen to retrieve the wine she’d promised herself. Standing near the counter, her mind turned back to the last playing of the video. While she understood physical stimulation, including orgasms—really understood them—the killing-key that had unlocked her unique emotion was different. For her, there was no physical action/reaction, like hitting the brakes on a car and feeling it stop. Or flipping on a light switch and having the light come to life. This was different and growing in its intensity.
Part of her wanted to know why and, if she did stumble on the truth, would it matter? Would it make it better? Did she really care? She only knew one thing; her love life was in full motion and nothing would stop it.
Nothing.
CHAPTER-27
“What the hell? Did you see that?” asked Sophie, doing a double-take in the rearview mirror.
“See what?” asked Manny.
“Alex and Dean just disappeared down the embankment, in a hurry.”
“What?” asked Josh.
“Damn it. You heard me,” said Sophie.
The tension in Sophie’s voice caused Manny to guess what was next. He clutched the gray handle above the SUV’s window just as she slammed on the brakes and put the vehicle into a controlled skid, then spun it hard to the left. Manny felt the seatbelt tighten with unbelievable force as both right wheels left the ground. For a brief moment, he thought she had cranked too hard and they would be bouncing along Highway 17 on the roof of the SUV. Judging by Josh’s yell, his thought was similar. But Sophie, just at the proper moment, jerked the wheel to the right, forcing the large SUV to recover its questionable balance. Five seconds later, they were speeding back to where the CSI’s vehicle had left the road.
“Did you see what happened?” asked Manny.
Sophie shook her head. “I caught something streak past the back of the car. But I was focused on them and didn’t catch what it could’ve been.”
“Whew. This ain’t good for my heart. What did you mean disappear down the ditch? Were they upright? Was it like a blown tire?” asked Josh.
“I mean it looked like they were going ass-over-tea-kettle down the slope of that ditch. It could have been a blown tire or it could have been something else. Hell, I don’t know, but we will in a few seconds,” answered Sophie, biting her li
p.
It had been a while since Manny detected this kind of concern in her voice, and it set him more on edge. He wondered what she thought she’d seen.
They arrived at the spot were Alex and Dean had gone over the edge of the road. Sophie waited for the traffic to clear and gunned the SUV across the pavement and over to the shoulder, slamming the shifter into park just where the deep, disconcerting ruts made by the other vehicle ended. She was out of the car before Josh or he could open their doors. They both joined her in seconds.
Peering into the rift, Manny focused on the bottom of the fifteen-foot embankment, fully expecting to see a destroyed truck—and blood everywhere. His first expectation was unfounded. The FBI unit was sitting on all four wheels, leaning at about twenty-five degrees to the right, still running. There was blood, however—lots of it. It took him a moment to digest the source, then he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the large buck lying ten feet to the rear of the SUV. It brought him a wisp of regret to see the deer’s mangled body, but better the animal than his friends.
Just then, the driver’s door opened and Dean stumbled out. He regained his balance, then looked up to where he and Josh stood. Not waiting, Sophie was already working her way down the wet grass and mud.
“You guys all right?” she yelled.
“I think so, just shaken up,” answered Dean, his voice unsteady.
“Where’s Alex?” asked Sophie.
There was movement from the passenger door window, then Alex’s head popped over the edge of the roof. “Right here. I’m okay.”
By then, Sophie had reached the bottom and gave Dean a fierce hug.
“If something would have happened to you . . .” her voice trailed off and she regripped his neck.
The astonishment, then the instantaneous smile that registered on Dean’s face was priceless. Manny decided to file that one away for a more appropriate time to harass the bearded CSI.
Sophie was still full of surprises. This one he liked. Maybe her heart was on the bumpy road to healing. That was something he understood.
A minute later, the five agents stood at the side of the vehicle. Josh hung up his cell and moved closer to Dean and Alex.
“The wrecker will be here in a few minutes. Okay. Again, what happened?” asked Josh.
“I’m not really sure,” said Dean. “We felt two hits on the back of the vehicle and the next thing I know, we’re at the bottom of the ditch.”
“Well. It doesn’t look like it flipped over so you got lucky on that one and I guess that explains the dead deer,” said Manny.
“Oh, we flipped over, only somehow we landed on all fours,” said Dean.
“Really? You did a three-sixty and landed like that? You must be delusional because that just doesn’t happen unless I’m driving,” said Sophie, hands on hips.
“He’s telling the damn truth. One second we’re driving, the next we’re flying, and the next we’re sitting upright, staring at ditch grass. We’ll have the seatbelt imprint on our chests for about fifty years. But that’s what happened,” said Alex.
“Lucky asses,” muttered Sophie. “But that’s it. You ain’t driving anymore; you’re riding with me. You were probably talking about the newest style of rubber gloves, got excited, and weren’t paying attention.”
“Whatever you say, Princess. And I like it when you take charge. Anyway, I swear I never saw the deer,” answered Dean.
Frowning, Manny ran his hand through his hair. “To be crossing the road that quickly, I’d say something spooked him, especially to be out at this hour of the day. It won’t be dark for another ninety minutes or so.”
“Yeah, but it’s not all that unusual to see them out, especially in the spring,” said Alex.
“I guess you’re right. I mean here’s proof,” said Josh.
“You said you felt two hits. How close together were they?” asked Manny.
Dean looked at Alex and shrugged. “They were pretty bang-bang. Maybe a second or two between.”
“Sometimes they run together. Maybe you hit two deer. Or I should say, they hit you,” said Josh.
“But we don’t see another carcass,” answered Sophie.
“True. But they can run for miles before the adrenaline wears off and they drop over dead, or almost dead,” said Alex.
Moving toward the back of the truck, Manny bent low and began to examine the damage caused by the large buck. It had hit high on the rear quarter panel, cracking the window and causing about a three-inch deep indentation the size of a basketball just below it. There were streaks of blood and tufts of hair in the middle of the dent, trailing toward the back, making it obvious that the buck had hit full bore and was probably killed instantly. Squatting to a deep knee bend, he ran his hand over the rest of the fender and panel, finding nothing that would indicate a second impact.
“What are you looking for?” asked Josh.
“I don’t know. Just a clue of what could have caused the second impact. I guess it could have been something freak, like a stone or a piece of metal. But you’re probably right. It had to be another deer . . .”
Manny stopped in mid-sentence, squinting at the rounded section of the chrome bumper just to the rear door side.
“What?” said Josh.
He didn’t answer, but reached down and stuck his hand underneath the edge of the fender. A moment later, he pulled out a small black box alive with a throbbing green light.
Looking at Josh and the others, he placed the three-inch device in the palm of his hand.
“What the hell? Is that a tracking device?” asked Sophie, her mouth open in surprise.
“It is. It appears someone wants to know where we are,” said Manny.
CHAPTER-28
The red Enclave sped toward Wilmington, North Carolina, just over the speed limit for the stretch of eastbound Interstate 40. It wouldn’t do to be pulled over, given his recent and current cargo. He’d have some splainin’ to do, and frankly, he had no time for that bullshit. The people living in his world didn’t have to explain anything to anyone. Never had, never would. That was just how protocol worked for him, if that were even an applicable scenario. Protocol implied rules, regulation, and proper procedure. The only truth about any of those theories is that none applied to him.
Still, there were a plethora of reasons to stay under the radar, so to speak. He would. And if he’d learned anything over the last twelve years, it had been patience. There was absolutely no hurry to get done what his contact had told him to accomplish.
“There is a season for everything,” he said softly.
He thought about the bible verse in Ecclesiastes he’d been forced to memorize when he was in Sunday school and it led to the reasons he’d been in a church at all. His mother.
She hadn’t been too keen with staying out of the drugs and alcohol. She, however, made sure he and his sister got a Christian education, of sorts. At least as much as feasible when raising kids while being stoned most of the time.
Those thoughts brought nothing to his current assignment. Where he came from and how he was brought up were now as relevant as pissing in the ocean. The next two days were going to be a culmination of months of work and he needed a clear head. As good as he was at what he did, he realized—at least in this case—there was no room for complacency. None. He’d remember his training and finish what he’d begun.
Easing into the passing lane, he rolled past a big rig, turning up the music pounding from the radio as he did. The guys with the beards were kicking out one of his favorite tunes and he hit the steering wheel with his large hand in perfect rhythm to the driving beat. He’d heard from a well-known pastor that rock and roll was the Devil’s music and that it contributed to sending young people to Hell.
He laughed.
There were scarier things in this world than an imaginary demon of evil who wanted to send people to a lake of fire. He knew that to be true. He was one of them.
CHAPTER-29
Standing in f
ront of the beautiful building that served as the county’s courthouse, Manny took a moment to appreciate the design of the old, immaculate building. The large arch that greeted everyone who entered protected tall oak doors and the red of the bricks making up the rest of the four-floor structure only served to raise his admiration. Southern architecture had more character, with its Victorian style, than most of the North because some of the states were settled earlier.
Nothing like tradition and a little history to understand where you came from.
Hesitating, he finally pulled the door open and started up the stairs. He wished he had more hours in the day to enjoy surroundings like this one, only this job didn’t come with those luxuries. He wondered if the rest of the crew thought the same thing. He felt a little isolated and sometimes that was a good thing, though. He thought Josh sent him ahead of the rest for a reason and maybe, this time, it was to check out the flavor of the locals. No problem there. And he knew the others would be behind him shortly, right after they finished parking the vehicle and eating another fast-food meal. It was a miracle they didn’t all weigh nine hundred pounds for as much fast-food as they devoured.
Reaching the second floor, he took a deep breath and entered the lighted conference room, the subtle groaning of the wooden floor telling anyone in the room he was there. The gray-haired man sitting on the edge of the table looked up and smiled. Manny stuck out his hand and felt the strong grip of a cop who had worked a day or two in his life.
“I’m sorry we’re late. We had a run-in with a couple of deer on Highway 17 and had to wait for the wrecker,” said Manny as he put his briefcase on the long mahogany table, which was surrounded by plush, comfortable chairs. A large media screen hung at the front of the room, yet the place maintained its older ambiance. It felt almost homey.
“I’m Captain Jeb Tanner, and not a problem. You were only a couple of minutes late,” his greeter said quietly. “We’re just glad to have you here in the Port City. Like I explained to Agent Corner two days ago, we’ve never seen murders like this in our county and can use all the help we can get.”
