by Dana Lyons
“Maybe he was always this way and you just never saw it,” Quinn offered. “The criminal mind is capable of tremendous cunning and deception.”
Simon shrugged. Dreya reeled against the disgust he retained for his not seeing Harper’s true nature. He gazed out the dark window and snorted. “There were times where I could have seen it, could have put it all together. He always had an excuse for taking short cuts, was always looking for a way to game the system or gain some unfair advantage.
“We worked on a project in school for extra credit, a competition. Vince got the idea to dive our competition’s dumpster. We found stuff that helped us and we gained the advantage and won.”
He paused with a wry grin. “He was so proud. I should have known then something was off about him.”
The Virginia countryside passed by as she opened Harper’s file. She read his psych evaluation.
Opportunist, serial criminal, adaptable, self-centered, unconscionable, and nihilistic who feels justified in his actions.
She gazed out the darkened windows and joined Simon in silence. With what they knew about Harper, a wave of fear worked its way into her thoughts, one she kept to herself.
No telling what we’re walking into.
* * *
With two days still to go before his departure, Vince relaxed at his home in Fairfield with a cigar and a large glass of red wine on the deck overlooking his backyard. A smile came to his face and he raised his glass. “Soon, my part will be done and I’ll be off to the islands.”
And all because of that interactive game.
“Who could have imagined so much excitement coming out of that old message board.”
He and his friends had played it through college, but then everyone went their separate ways and the game had lingered in cyber space for over a decade.
Waiting for a special message.
One night he logged on intending to take the game down and was shocked to see the message icon blinking. For a message to appear was likely impossible, inspiring his criminal mind’s inherent suspicion of surveillance. He remembered the urge to look about for cameras as a rash of chills blew across the back of his neck. His hand slipped between the couch cushions for his gun. “What the—?”
Still, curiosity rose and he clicked the icon and read the message. “Would you like to do something important and get paid?”
He replaced the gun back between the cushions, his mind busy with questions. The time stamp on the message indicated it was several weeks old.
How did the message get here? Who sent it?
And even more important, Get paid how much and for what?
The how much interested him more than the what. Compulsively, he glanced around again for cameras before he typed in YES and clicked send. “Probably won’t get an answer; some whiz kids pulling a hack prank,” he mumbled.
Too bad. I liked the part about getting paid.
But a response came within the week and a conversation including instructions for future participation went back and forth. He agreed to join The Red Flag, an organization reportedly ‘concerned about the health of mother Earth and looking for activists to help bring awareness to the world.’
“I’ll give you thirty days to put money in my pocket,” he said as he supplied a post office box address he had set up specifically for this. To his surprise, instructions came through the message board within days.
Print this message at the library with no fingerprints and mail it to the address below. Deliver to the post office on 31st street after hours when no one is there. Camera will be disabled for 48 hours on the twenty-first and twenty-second. Wear gloves to prevent fingerprints.
Payment to follow.
After completing this task, he received ten crisp hundred dollar bills in the mail. He smiled and fanned the bills. “Hmmm. Maybe I want to be an activist for a while.” He continued his engagement with The Red Flag.
More instructions came through the message board, each followed by bigger and bigger payoffs. He increased his online activity at The Red Flag site, posting rhetoric he saw from others. The more he engaged, the more jobs he got and the more money he received until he was making $20 grand a month for a once-a-week errand.
Between the cash and the social engagement, it didn’t take long for him to feel like he actually was doing something important. After eighteen months, a promotion offer came.
You’ve been chosen for a special task with a special pay scale.
He guessed this was why they’d come to him from the beginning. “For a special job and special recognition.”
Now, two months later, everything was ready. He’d received instructions, including a pink vaccine pill guaranteed ‘to protect you from the coming global conflagration.’
He kept the small plastic wrapper for the vaccine pill, even though his instructions were to drop it in the toilet. He knew what he was about to engage in was illegal, even if it was the right thing to do for the greater good. Still, his instinctive need for a back-up plan moved him to keep the plastic wrapper along with a thumb drive filled with interesting information.
“I’m not totally stupid,” he mused aloud. He’d recorded every contact, taking screenshots of the message board …
“Just in case.”
Once he began receiving bigger payouts, he received a debit card in the mail under a new identity along with a bank account. That account now held a hundred thousand dollars.
“A nice round number for starters. And if I get into any trouble, well, I always have the thumb drive.”
And this little blister pack marked 22-b.
The collection of evidence helped him feel confident, no matter what happened. His next instructions for the coming package went through his mind, filling him with excitement.
Do not open the sealed cigar tube until instructed where and when. Inside is fragile/hazard. Wait for next step.
Tomorrow, the package would arrive.
Tip the courier after he delivers package.
A euphemism for disposing of the courier. That didn’t bother him; he’d knocked off a few rivals in his day. “Sometimes you have to sweep the board clean so new players can have a chance.” This opportunity was his chance.
In the basement, he had a plastic tarp ready to put the courier’s body in. He’d researched human decomposition and knew the tarp would mask the odor for two-weeks before anyone would notice, giving him that much head start into the new world.
He allowed himself a smile and sipped the expensive red wine. The good life was finally rolling in. “It’s all coming together.”
* * *
Minutes Later
Dreya inspected Harper’s house as Rhys drove by. All she saw was an average lower-middle class house in the suburbs. Still, remembering the eyeball-fetching serial killer Martin Nash, a shiver shot down her back, knowing the worst could hide in plain sight. “Okay, take us as far away as possible and still maintain a vantage point.”
Rhys parked two blocks up the hill.
Dreya took her bearings. “The way his house faces the sun, when he opens the door I’ll get full sunlight illumination for my first read. Simon and I will go to the door; Rhys, you and Quinn stay in the car. I don't want him to know what everyone looks like.”
Beside her, Simon sat rigid, emanating great anxiety. She ran her fingers through his hair, calming him.
Harper can’t hurt you. Be patient like a cat. Let’s play with this prey for a while.
He rolled his shoulders and exhaled heavily. “You’re right. I want to get in his face and see what he says. I haven’t seen him in years. The last time we spoke, he told me ‘get over it.’” He gazed up the street. “What if he’s not home?”
“My experience is criminals are usually home in the daytime. Are you ready to do this?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
“What are you going to say?”
He snorted and tucked his chin. “I don’t know. What can I say? What I want to do is s
hift and tear him apart.”
“What does Nobility say?”
His gaze came up and they locked eyes for a long moment.
“Nobility says ‘Dreya first, pack second, myself third, then job.’”
She smiled. “Harper holds the answers you seek. We’ll do our job—crack him open and toss a grenade into the middle of his life. Out of that, I believe your answers will surface.”
He nodded.
“You got this?”
“Yeah.”
“Rhys, drive up to the front.”
Rhys parked at the curb and Simon and Dreya got out. Simon went to the door and leaned on the doorbell.
Dreya backed up a couple steps and gauged where to stand for the best spot. Footsteps approached the door from inside. See, he’s here.
Simon stiffened his back and dropped his shoulders. Primal energy and emotion emanated from him—she was glad he wasn’t cougar.
The door opened and sunlight hit Harper square in the face. With him momentarily blinded, she got a base read before he reacted.
He blinked and his eyes struggled to focus. Once he realized who stood before him, his face went pale and his guard went up, but not before she read fear accelerating into terror.
“Hey, Simon, is that really you?” Harper said. He glanced at her and his chin lifted in approval as his inspection swept down her form—until he spotted the badge on her belt. His face didn’t react, but he broadened his stance, going on alert even as he nonchalantly brought his gaze back to Simon. “So, what can I do for you?”
“I’m coming to get my license back,” Simon declared.
Harper squinted. “Is that a threat?”
“If me turning your life upside down feels like a threat, then you could say that.”
Harper smoothly called Simon’s bluff and crossed his arms, hips thrust forward in a relaxed alpha pose. “Why would you drag all that back up? It’s been settled. Like I said, get over it.”
Simon’s anger rose in waves. The back of his neck stiffened and his shoulders hunched as if ready to leap on Harper.
Stay calm. See the reflection in the door glass, there’s a travel bag. I’ve seen enough. We need to back off.
“It’s not over, Vince,” Simon said. His verbal tone, stance and attitude emanated pure primeval attack. If he were cougar, Harper would have been shredded
Simon, let’s go, she ordered.
She turned and walked out to the car and got in just as Simon entered the vehicle from the other side. Rhys pulled away and Dreya watched Harper follow their departure. As they drove out of sight, she announced, “Oh, yeah. This guy is definitely dirty.”
3
Vince watched as Simon and the woman walked to their car and drove away. Once they rounded the corner, he closed the door and sagged against the frame. His breath had locked up in his throat until he thought he might black out. He propped his head on his arm and moaned. “Dammit. Why is he here now? What fucked-up timing.”
Steady. Breathe. Get your feet under you.
He sucked several deep breaths and the light-headedness faded. The roar of adrenaline in his ears ceased and his knees no longer felt like collapsing. He scrubbed his hands against his face. “Okay. Just a minor change, that’s all. I can still do this.”
Nothing alters my big plans. Important people are depending on me.
As stunning as Simon’s appearance was, it was the cop that made him freeze. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and her eyes looked right through him. More than Simon, she turned his knees to rubber. His criminal instincts shouted, she’s big trouble.
Now, thanks to their appearance, he had to proceed as though the worst had happened, a philosophy that had served him well over the years. “What would be the worst thing possible?”
Assume they’re watching me.
He glanced at his packed bag.
Not possible they saw my bag.
But then he recalled how her eyes left him feeling exposed.
I have to assume they know something.
“So much for my tarp idea.”
Need a new plan, one that buys me time, hides my escape, and gets them off my tail. Especially her.
Thinking of how to arrange all this, he tapped a finger to his lip, wondering … how’s the best way to blow up this house?
* * *
As Rhys drove away, Dreya put her hand on Simon’s arm. He was throwing off an intense wave of shock and desire to kill. His emotions pressed down on her.
Back it down, Simon. Back it down. Get control.
She briskly rubbed his arm as a distraction. “Look at me,” she ordered. He blinked several times, then shook himself before giving her his gaze.
From her peripheral vision, she knew Quinn had turned to watch her and Simon. The car came to a stop as Rhys returned to their observation point. He asked, Everything okay back there?
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Simon answered. He flexed his chest and rolled his shoulders as though throwing off a burden. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot of hard feelings over this.”
“Dreya, what did you read from Harper?” Rhys asked.
“Seeing Simon was a huge shock. I’m thinking too much for the threat you present.” She cast her memory back, certain there was something at work here other than Simon. “He was on top of the world until he saw you. Then he crashed emotionally.
“We’ve disrupted something by showing up, he was sagging with frustration when we left. And I saw a travel backpack from a reflection in the glass on the door.” She V-ed her fingers and pointed to her eyes. “Super eyes.”
“If he has bags packed, we can’t leave him,” Quinn said.
Entering Harper’s house when he left crossed her mind, but she remembered what happened the last time they violated protocol. A quick glance around showed Rhys and Quinn had the same memory. “We need to set up a stakeout,” she announced. “Rhys, I want you in a tree with your eyes on Harper until we get back.”
He started shedding his clothes, struggling to get naked from behind the steering wheel. As each item of clothing came off, he passed them to Quinn. When all that remained were briefs he pushed the seat all the way back and transitioned in a flash. The raven wiggled out of the briefs. Quinn reached over and opened the door. Rhys jumped to the ground. With a ‘Caw’, he took off.
Quinn climbed into the driver’s seat. “Where to?”
“We need two rental vehicles and a room.”
“I saw just what we need by the highway.”
Two hours later, they returned to the observation point. Simon drove a small utility van with a Rodent Extermination sign on its side. Dreya called to Rhys. We’re here. See us?
Good timing. It’s getting dark.
He lifted from the top of the tallest tree and circled down slowly, landing at the back of the van. She opened the rear door, and he hopped in. He transitioned and dressed, then she passed him a bottle of water and a chocolate bar.
“No sign of him,” he said. “I checked out the rear of the house. Between neighboring fences and shrubbery, there’s no good view from that side.”
She grimaced. “Too bad we can’t leave you up in a tree all night.”
“Sorry, daytime bird. No vision for nighttime.”
“Then we go with what we have,” she responded. “Who wants the night shift?”
Simon waved his hand. “I do. It’s a cat thing, you know, nocturnal.”
“I expected as much.”
Quinn said, “I’ll stay and hang with my bro. You and Rhys get some rest.”
“All right. Call me if anything happens. And no shifting and getting closer. I don’t need the random sighting of a cougar or a wolf setting off the neighbors and bringing in Animal Control.” She and Rhys stepped out the side doors and pulled them shut.
Simon picked up one of the binoculars and set the focus on Harper’s house. With sunset coming, he mentally marked all the coming dark spots on this side of the house where Harper could hide and sl
ip away. Nonchalantly, as if speaking an afterthought, he said, “Did she ask you to babysit me?”
Quinn never missed a beat. “Not at all. I volunteered.” He picked up the other binoculars.
Because?
“I know how you feel.”
Simon snorted. “You lost … a lot more than me.”
“Loss is measured by what it means to you.”
Simon thought about this for a while, seeking a less bitter perspective on his loss. All he knew was he’d been cheated of something he worked hard for. He needed resolution, closure … justice. “How about you? You good with Ivanov?”
An emotional bump came from Quinn, one Simon didn’t expect. Satisfaction. Release. He glanced at his brother, a bit shocked. “Really? Because … dude, you had blood lust.”
Quinn nodded. “Indeed, I did, I had unquenchable lust. You know what happened to it? Nobility changed my perspective.”
Simon frowned. “I don't understand how there can be any other perspective? I was robbed. Period.”
“Remember what you answered to Dreya when she asked what Nobility was telling you to do?”
“Yes. Dreya, the pack, myself, the job.”
“Yes, a new set of priorities. That change in priority delivered a shift in perspective. Because Ivanov posed no risk to Dreya or the pack, I released what I perceived to be a threat because that perception and its subsequent threat existed only in the past.”
Emotions tugged at Simon’s heart as the logic of Nobility poked uncomfortably at his mind.
“It was a huge step,” Quinn continued. “Nothing I could do would bring back my … loss, but I saw it wouldn’t happen again, at least not from Ivanov. I found peace in that resolution.”
Simon wanted to object, to protest they spoke of different losses. A life can’t be brought back, but a medical license could be reinstated. As for Quinn’s level of forgiveness, Simon didn’t have it.
But Quinn’s words were in Simon’s mind now, stirring his emotions. And Nobility, too, chipping away at his DNA, driving him to unforeseen and unimaginable possibilities. He shook off his thoughts and picked up the binoculars, determined Harper wouldn’t get away again.
