Criminally Insane: The Series (Bad Karma, Red Angel, Night Cage Omnibus) (The Criminally Insane Series)

by Douglas Clegg

  She and Fasteau drove around the rim of the lake, with the snow and ice increasing with each mile. The Cobble place was twelve miles around the lake.

  When they arrived at the house, the only one with a front porch light on, Fasteau said, "Holy shit."

  2

  She glanced through the darkness and falling snow, to the small cabins that were off a bit in the woods.

  A main house, hardly more than a cabin itself. Lights came from its windows. An old junk heap of a Monte Carlo that looked like it was at least 20 years old and had never been maintained, sat in the driveway. Out in a clearing, an old truck up on cinderblocks, its doors completely taken off.

  Six smaller one-room cabins in a semi-circle in the woods.

  Some kind of graying arched sign over the drive in, but the darkness obscured it.

  "It's the Bates motel."

  "I doubt we can take a guy in just because he looks like he lives like a crazy person," Jane said.

  "Yeah, true. Everyone I saw back in that town looks like a loon. Including the deputy."

  The headlights cast a beautiful but disturbing brightness across the falling snow, through the pines that edged the property, and the thick woods beyond. They were at the edge of a hillock that went downward right behind the last cabin.

  "This really is Bumfuck, Egypt," Fasteau said.

  "Looks like this place has been going to the dogs for years."

  A light on in the main house.

  They parked on the side of the road, and both got out. "We're going to be stuck here all night," Fasteau said. "We may have to rent one of these cabins. Just the two of us."

  "Tell you what, you get a cabin. I'll go back and take my chances with the icy roads."

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Trey opened his eyes, briefly.

  Thought he heard a snipping sound.

  Fought for consciousness. Elise?

  We fucked up, he thought.

  Then, he felt himself drifting back into a cold sleep.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  1

  The guy who opened the door looked to Jane like he had just woken up from a nap.

  "Can I help you?"

  She got the preliminaries out of the way, just the basics of show the badge, don't get his suspicions up, and see if he had anything to say, or if she could notice anything in the house itself.

  He made no move toward inviting her in, and she didn't have any legal way to get in unless he invited her. She wondered, briefly, how Sykes and Tryon were doing down in the valley.

  "My mother's been sick," he said.

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Cobble."

  "Well, it's been a long time coming. She's in her room, but she's sleeping."

  "Well, this won't take long."

  Jane glanced around the modest home. It was a bit of a mess, and a dog that was so old it practically was dragging its own hindquarters when it got up, came over to her. Fasteau remained behind her, standing by the door.

  "We're just checking in with people from the Moon Lake Water company." She knew not to say more. If this was a suspect, or even if this guy might guess who among the other delivery men was the most likely suspect, she was not going to feed him information that would come back and bite her in the ass during a trial.

  "Is there a reason?"

  "Routine. You've probably seen the news?"

  His face betrayed nothing. He was a big man, a little weary looking and frayed about the edges, but looked like your basic big dumb guy. Nothing felt different around him, she got no sense of weirdness or hesitation in his part.

  "I don't watch the news much. We don't got cable. Our reception sucks."

  "Well, as you may know, there's a little boy who's missing. We're just talking to anyone who has come in contact with this boy to see if we can learn anything, or if there might be a witness to where he might've gone." She stumbled over her words, but had tried to be careful not to inform too much.

  She watched his eyes. Either he was very good at this, or he was completely innocent.

  "Geez, that's terrible. Do I know this kid?"

  "He's on your Tuesday, Thursday route. His name is Lucas Conroy."

  Fasteau drew the photo out of his coat. He passed it to Duane Cobble, who looked at it, nodding. "He's a nice little kid, too. I know the Conroys," he nodded. "I didn't know his name, but that kid was really nice. What a terrible thing. I hope nothing's happened. Maybe it's...I mean, I hear a lot about divorced fathers kidnapping their own children."

  Small alarm in her head: he mentioned the word "kidnapping" and she had not. She had just said "missing." This might mean nothing. But it might mean something. "Well, we didn't mean to bother you without calling first," she said, a minor league lie. "But I was over at the distribution plant, and thought I might just drop by."

  "Three other guys do my route," he said. "But they're all good guys. You think maybe one of them did this? No. No way. None of them could do that kind of thing. I don't think it was one of us."

  "I don't think it was either, Mr. Cobble. We're trying to find out if anyone saw anything unusual recently in the Conroy's neighborhood. Any unusual activity. Or cars parked on the street. Anything you might've noticed or heard."

  "Nope," he said after a moment. "I can't think of anything. I am sorry to hear about this. I had no idea. What a terrible world. I hope it turns out happy, like when they found that little girl in Utah awhile back. I'll pray for his return."

  He stood there, lingering with his hand on the edge of the doorframe. He wanted to close it.

  2

  Jane felt something click in her head.

  Something wasn't right. She wasn't sure what.

  She glanced back at Fasteau who stood behind and next to her.

  Then, looked back to Duane Cobble.

  She wished she could tell Fasteau what she was thinking. She wasn't sure if she should say goodbye, make a retreat to the car, and then just phone this one in or not.

  If you do, and it's nothing, you'll have wasted a lot of people's times.

  If you want to go, go big.

  Aim true.

  She went with her instinct.

  3

  "Would you mind if we came inside, Mr. Cobble? It's freezing out here, and we can probably speak more comfortably...you might be able to provide us with some insight into your co-workers." There, she thought. That sounded good.

  If he were innocent, he wouldn't really mind either way.

  If he were guilty, he had to invite them in.

  He had no choice.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  It heard something in its head.

  Not the Devil. Not the Devil.

  It sounded like Abraxas. Just for a second.

  Like Abraxas was trying to talk to him.

  It watched the two cops. They didn't look much like cops, but it knew cops well.

  It watched the woman especially. She was a tall woman and looked like she could beat the shit out of somebody.

  The man didn't scare him that much.

  It opened the door wider, letting them into its house.

  The Devil started to gnash its teeth inside its head, but it kept an even keel.

  It would get through it. It was sure it could.

  As the woman cop spoke, he could tell she was looking all over the room. Looking for things. For stuff.

  Looking for something that would make her know that it held the Beast inside it.

  It spoke perfectly normal, like it could sometimes when it needed to mimic the way people talked. It told them about the weather, and how bad the snow was for its mother's arthritis, how it always flared up with snow came down. It told them about its girl, Monica, even though it called her its wife just to seem more respectable.

  It even made a joke with the man about "women," and it could tell that it had pissed off the woman cop too much, so it made another little joke about how men think they're so smart when in reality women run the world. It mentioned the
baby that was coming. It was going to be a father.

  But the woman's eyes bothered it. She had sharp eyes, like little scalpels, and she was slicing away at the edge of things when she looked at them.

  She's a whore. She's a whore and you can't trust whores.

  "Is your mother asleep?" she asked.

  "Yes, ma'am. She's sleeping through the night. She has her supper and then pretty much is down for the count."

  "I'm sorry to hear about her illness, Duane."

  She called it by its first name, and that made it uncomfortable. What else did she know about it?

  Did she know God, too? Had she been to see Mikey? Had he talked about it to her?

  No. Mikey was Abraxas the all-powerful. The secret name of God.

  He'd never talk to a whore about it.

  Never.

  Her eyes again. It watched where she looked. The mantel. The fireplace. Jojo. The sofa. The magazines piled on the floor.

  It held its breath for a moment, unsure what to say to get them out.

  The Other One began to snarl louder.

  The Beast wanted out of its cage in its brain.

  The Devil wanted to leap out at them.

  Not yet. Not now. They'll leave. It'll be okay.

  "My mother was sick for a while," the woman said. "It's rough when it's your mother. It's just very tough to get through."

  "Did she die?"

  "No. She survived. Breast cancer."

  It doesn't like either of those words. The Devil likes them. But it hates them.

  "She underwent chemo," she kept talking as if she was pretending that she couldn't tell that the Other One was coming out inside him, taking him over bit by bit, rising up in his blood like a tea kettle about to whistle. She pretended not to notice, and so did the other cop. But it knew that they were just pretending. "It was rough. But she pulled through, and she beat it."

  Without meaning to, it said, "My mother's got the C word, too."

  "Oh," she said. "Well, she'll be in my prayers."

  It is getting that biting feeling inside it. Like it wants to attack. Like a lion.

  Like the Devil.

  "She's got nurses who come in and see her," it said, wishing it could stop, but something in the woman cop had made it feel almost like it had to talk about this. "But I don't think there's much hope."

  "Hospice?"

  "Sort of," it said.

  "Well, I don't want to waste anymore of your time," she said suddenly.

  It felt relief at her words.

  "Officer Fasteau?" she turned to the man.

  "Thank you. We'll be in touch later on," the man cop said.

  It returned to the door with them.

  When it closed the door, locking it, the Other One took over.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Outside, walking through the snow, back to the entry to the dirt driveway, the two of them didn't say a word. Jane felt the excitement inside her, tempered with fear.

  "I think we have him," she said as she reached for the passenger door.

  "I know," Fasteau said, going around the front of the car, headlights still on, snowing coming down. "Once Tryon —"

  And that's when Jane heard what seemed like an enormous boom, as if a bomb had been dropped down in the valley.

  A rifle's blast.

  Fasteau was blown back, first against the hood of the car, and then onto the road.

  It happened so fast, she didn't even process it, but acted on instinct.

  She reached for her Glock, but as she pulled it up, she felt nervous and scared in a way that she never had before.

  She ran around the back of the car to use it as some kind of shield.

  She shot into the darkness, but could not see Duane Cobble — or anyone. She could only see along the line of the headlights, but beyond that, the house had gone dark.

  The snow was affecting her vision, but her fear seemed to intensify — her heart raced — she worked to keep her breathing from becoming too rapid — kept telling herself to slow down, to look, to wait. Her mind went blank, and she wondered if she would get out of this alive. As quickly as she could, she glanced behind her, to the road and lake beyond. Many miles away, across the lake, she could barely see the lights of the small town of Moon Lake.

  Someone might've heard the sound.

  Surely they would've.

  How long would it take for someone to come over here?

  Could she get to the radio fast enough?

  She ruled that out. She held her gun as steadily as she could.

  She shouted, "Duane Cobble! Put down your weapon and put your hands over your head!"

  She leaned to her left, putting her weight on her left knee.

  Fasteau was still. Dead at the edge of the headlight's beam.

  Blood on the snow.

  "Shit," she whispered.

  Visibility worsened as the snow picked up, and she felt as if she'd been crouching behind the care for several minutes, although she suspected only seconds had passed.

  Where was he? Christ. Where the fuck are you, Duane?

  She tried to focus on the darkness, but the bright headlights kept her eyes unable to adjust to the dark.

  Was that him? The darkness against darkness that moved?

  "Put down your weapon right now!" she screamed as loud as she could.

  It wasn’t him. It was just the fire trees themselves, shaking off clumps of snow.

  She could hear each of her own breaths as if she had asthma in her lungs.

  Her heartbeat seemed too loud.

  She wanted to hold her breath, but knew that would not make this go any easier for her.

  She heard a whooshing sound as if something we moving swiftly toward her

  From the right? She looked to the right and saw a blurred shadow in the dark, and for the barest second thought she saw him —

  And then, something heavy hit her hard on the back right side of her scalp.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  "Whore," it whispered.

  It set the hunting rifle on the trunk of the car.

  Then, it went around to the driver's side of the car to turn off the headlights.

  PART THREE

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  1

  In the Mad Place, it had just finished tying up the cop woman, duct-taping her mouth, wrapping it around double and tight, checking ropes behind the chair to make sure she couldn't wriggle out of them.

  Then, over to Lucas, who had been in and out of consciousness for several hours. Its mothers pills helped them sleep. That's what they needed, the little birds. Sleep. When the pills didn't work, it used the syringe. But Lucas didn't need the morphine. The pills were working fine.

  Lucas took another little white pill from its hand like a good boy. The boy curled up almost in a ball on the dirty mattress near the statue of the virgin. Lucas no longer needed to be tied. No longer needed tape over his mouth. The Mad Place had sent him into another realm in his mind. He was halfway between heaven and hell.

  As it meant him to be.

  2

  It was all going to be okay. It was going to work out fine for it.

  Brother. It heard the voice in its head.

  It turned around.

  Someone was in the Mad Place with it.

  Someone was scratching around the entryway.

  And then it saw Abraxas.

  God of All.

  Its brother.

  3

  "Duane," Michael Scoleri said from the flickering shadows at the doorway into the Mad Place.

  4

  It was shocked, standing there, duct-tape in one hand.

  "Abraxas," it said.

  "I heard your prayers. Your messages." Abraxas's beauty was extreme and frightening. Even though it knew not to fear, it could not help but be afraid. "In you, there is greatness. But you must set it free."

  "Free?" it asked.

  "The Beast. The Devil. The end of days is at hand," Abraxas said, and ca
me over to embrace him. "Within you, greatness."

  "I wasn't sure if you heard me."

  "I always will hear you," Abraxas said. "I know all. I see all."

  "Why have you come here?"

  Then, Abraxas spread his arms out wide.

  It trembled slightly at the beauty of its brother.

  "You have given me angels. And sacrifice," Abraxas said, in the sweetest voice that it had ever heard. "I can't stay long. You know that. I must return to heaven. But first, go home. Get your rifle. You will need it. Others are coming. You know they will. I have only a few moments here, then I must leave. But first, I want to spend those moments with this woman. This sacrifice."

  It understood. It looked over at the cop woman tied to the chair.

  She was still out. It may have hit her too hard. But it didn't care. It should've killed her, but was glad it didn't now.

  She would be a sacrifice to God.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  When Jane woke up, she didn't know how much time had passed. She was in the stone room, bound to a chair. Lights flickered above her. She had to orient herself somehow. She barely remembered what had happened at the Cobble house, but then, it came back to her, suddenly.