Pain
Center
A
JOHN LOGAN
MYSTERY
BY
MW HUFFMAN
OTHER BOOKS BY MW HUFFMAN
THE END–BOOK I of The Event Series
THE BEGINNING–BOOK II of The Event Series
THE REVELATION–BOOK III of The Event Series
The Second Civil War–BOOK I-A Nation Divided
The Second Civil War–Book II-A Nation at War
The Second Civil War–Book III–A Nation Healing
Project BlueBolt – BOOK I – American Gulags
Project BlueBolt – BOOK II - The Gulag Journal
Project BlueBolt – BOOK III – American Uprising
REVOLUTION
THE BRINK
CLOSE PROXIMITY
BLACKSTAR
CHIMERA
WORLDS END
SUN BURST
Sins of the Fathers
The Unfinished
Angie Bartoni Case File # 1 - The Alphabet Murders
Angie Bartoni Case File # 2 - Frost Bite
Angie Bartoni Case File # 3 - Dead Aim
Angie Bartoni Case File # 4 - What Goes Around
Angie Bartoni Case File # 5 - Nothing to Lose
Angie Bartoni Case File # 6 - Shadow Man
Angie Bartoni Case File # 7 – The Club
Angie Bartoni Case File # 8 – Shakespeare Murders
Angie Bartoni Case File # 9 – One Too Many
Angie Bartoni Case File #10 – Weak Link
Angie Bartoni Case File #11 – Vanishing Act
Angie Bartoni Case File #12 – Victim’s Advocate
Angie Bartoni Case File #13 – Payback
Angie Bartoni Case File #14 – Dead on Arrival
Angie Bartoni Case File #15 - Rage
The Logan Files - Blond Deception
The Logan Files - Innocence and Avarice
The Logan Files - The Deal Breaker
The Logan Files – Pain Center
Norris Files - Silver2
Norris Files – Insurrection
CHAPTER ONE
Psychologists and most advocates say that children are not born bad. They believe that it is an outcome of their environment and upbringing. That is idealistic and simply not true. Jerome James Hanson was living proof of that fallacy. For all the psychobabble that they could come up with, he was just a bad seed.
Born into a middle class family in the Midwest, his father and mother were good Christians who worked hard and gave Jerome a loving and nurturing home to grow up in. While not rich by any means, they did their best to see that he didn't go without the things that children need. In spite of their best parenting efforts, Jerome was a little shit from the time he was born. He constantly tormented other kids, even as early as kindergarten.
He was bigger than most of the other children so he used his size and meanness to terrorize the smaller children in his classes. His teachers worked with him and had constant conferences with his parents about his behavior but to no avail. It seemed that the more they tried, the meaner he became.
Jerome was transferred to several different schools. By the time he was in Middle School, he was pretty much feared by everyone. Even the teachers dreaded to learn that he was enrolled in their classes. He wasn’t just mean in obvious ways. He seemed delighted to cause trouble in smaller ways as well. He would remove the nuts from the front wheel of another student’s bike so that they would crash when they tried to ride. He would force their bike chains off the sprocket so they would have to push their bikes home or loosen handlebars. It was never ending.
As he grew older, he became more devious as well as mean-spirited. He would set up other students so they would take the blame for his actions. It continued on into high school. There his size was no longer a threat so he resorted to less obvious activities like keying the side of cars, cutting valve stems on tires, and slashing convertible tops. No one was safe from his devious actions. He spent a great deal of time on the computer finding out about everything from making pipe bombs to terrorist activities. Cyber bullying was a regular pastime for him until he got caught.
The one thing he was most fascinated with was human anatomy. He spent hours reading about the various components of the body. He was most interested in the pain nerves and how they could be manipulated.
By the time he entered his junior year of high school, he was learning to control his meanness. He still delighted in seeing others suffer but he was able to mask it. In fact, his grades improved significantly. His classroom behavior dramatically improved as he applied himself to his studies. Jerome simply loved chemistry, biology, and even the general science classes. He spent extra time in the labs and would often help the teachers clean-up after school was over.
Outside of school he continued his destructive ways. Cats and dogs were consistently missing from the neighborhood. He would use them for his bizarre experiments. He once kept a small dog in ice water to see how long it could survive. He did the same thing with cats and kept careful records of each experiment. He began sneaking chloroform home from the school lab and would use it on the various animals he had managed to capture.
He would anesthetize them and then perform an assortment of experiments on them. Fascination with the functions of the brain triggered him to try to open the skulls of the animals while they were alive and see how they reacted to different stimuli. He was fascinated by the functions of the brain and read everything he could get his hands on. He would perform experiments on the animals to verify the results and to see if he could duplicate the outcome.
In his senior year he had to cut back on his experiments because the police had been called in to investigate the mysterious disappearance of all of the animals in the nearby neighborhoods. While they suspected he was involved, they could never prove it. He was forced to settle with reading again.
Near the middle of his senior year in high school he began applying for college. He wanted to become a medical doctor and applied to both prestigious and the not so prestigious schools that catered to medicine. While his grades were a solid 3.55 on the standard 4.0 scale, his SAT scores were not as impressive. Of those that would accept him, only IU-PUI offered what he was looking for.
Indiana University-Purdue University Institution in Indianapolis had an excellent medical program and Jerome soon found himself enrolled as a freshman. It was a strain on his parents since he did not qualify for a scholarship, nevertheless; they took out a second mortgage on their house to pay for his tuition.
* * *
“Mr. Hanson, perhaps you would enlighten us about the Parietal Lobe of the brain,” Professor Noel asked.
“Uh, well, it is one of the four lobes that we associate with the brain functions.”
“And?”
“And it receives data from the skin and helps register such things as cold, pain, pressure, and heat. It is the sensory processing area of the brain.”
“Where would one find this ‘sensory’ lobe?” the professor pressed.
“It’s located in the anterior section of the cerebral cortex of the brain, just behind the motor control area.”
“That’s like saying that Brownsburg is located in America.”
“Sir?”
“Not very specific or helpful. Would you mind showing us with the Power Point on the screen?” the Professor asked.
Jerome walked to the computer and moved the mouse to point to the Primary Somatic Sensory Cortex.
“Just about here, I think.”
“You think? That doesn’t sound very convincing, Mr. Hanson.”
“This ar
ea here is where it is located,” he said firmly.
“Can anyone tell Mr. Hanson how the Somatosensory system works?” he asked.
Two students shot up their hands immediately. A few others followed a few moments later.
“Ms. Keller?”
“Fibers from the spinal cord are distributed by the thalamus to the various parts of the parietal lobe. As they are stimulated they register a certain response,” she replied.
“And the Anygdala part of the Parietal Lobe?”
“Sexual behavior,” someone shouted out and everyone laughed, even the professor had to smile.
“Yes, well I would expect you to know that,” he said.
* * *
Jerome worked hard his freshman year but because of his parents’ financial situation he was forced to live in a dorm on campus. He hated having a roommate and having to share everything with someone else. Worse of all, his roommate was more interested in the social aspects of college life rather than the intellectual facet.
“Hey JJ, let’s go get a beer,” Buddy said. Buddy, his roommate, had taken to calling him JJ rather than Jerome.
“Can’t man. Got a test tomorrow,” Jerome replied, not looking up from his computer screen.”
“Screw the test. You already know all that stuff. All you’re going to do is clog up your brain. Let’s get out of here for a while,” Buddy insisted.
“Can’t do it. I need to ace this test,” Jerome replied.
“Just one beer. That can’t hurt. It will help clear your head,” Buddy said, tugging at his arm.
Jerome finally stopped what he was doing and stood up.
“One beer and then I am coming back. Got it?”
“Sure JJ. Now that’s what I’m talking about. A good brewski will help clear the cobwebs out of that peapod brain of yours,” he said, slapping Jerome on the back.
Jerome got his coat, saved his work on the computer and half-heartedly headed out the door with Buddy. It had started snowing large wet flakes.
They went to the Hut, one of the most popular bars near the campus. It wasn’t much more than a hole in the wall but it had become ‘the’ college hangout over the years. The food wasn’t particularly good but the beer was cheap and that mattered more.
“Hey look who’s here?” a chorus of voices shouted from a nearby table when Buddy and JJ entered.
“Buddy, over here,” a guy said, standing up and waving to them.
Buddy steered JJ to the table through the throng of college students. Music blared in the background.
“Wha’zup?” one of the slightly drunk guys said as they pushed into the already crowded booth.
“SOS, different day,” Buddy replied reaching for a pitcher of beer on the table.
A girl giggled and said, “SOS. I know what that means. Same old shit, right?”
“Darlin’, you go to the head of the class,” Buddy said.
“So who is this,” one of the others asked, pointing in the general direction of Jerome.
“This is my roomy, JJ. JJ, the gang,” he said as a way of introduction.
Buddy picked up the pitcher of beer and drank from it.
“Ah gross. You shit, that was my pitcher,” one of the guys complained.
“I ain’t got no communicable disease you ass,” Buddy replied, taking another big swig and offering it to JJ.
“No thanks. I prefer my beer out of a glass,” JJ replied.
“Suit yourself. Good luck getting a glass,” Buddy replied and downed a third of the pitcher without stopping. Finally one of the girls said he could have her glass if he wasn’t afraid of cooties. JJ laughed and poured a small amount of beer in the glass. Buddy continued to pound down the beer, becoming louder and more obnoxious by the minute. Jerome knew that at the present rate of consumption it wouldn’t take Buddy long to be drunk on his ass.
He continued to nurture his beer, taking small sips. He hated it but knew it would be way too uncool if he didn’t at least pretend to enjoy it. Finally one of the girls passed out at the table and the others howled at her condition. Assholes, JJ thought. There is nothing worse than a bunch of drunks to a sober person. They all think they are so damn funny. By midnight even Buddy was starting to feel like he had had enough.
“Whaz say we blow this joint?” he slurred and laughed like he had made a huge funny joke.
“I was ready two hours ago. You said one beer,” JJ replied.
“I only had one beer. One that I bought,” he replied and broke out into a belly laugh at his own clever remark.
“I gotta’ take a leak,” JJ said, “I’ll meet you outside. You need some fresh air.”
Buddy laughed like that was the funniest thing he had ever heard and staggered toward the side door. Jerome went to the bathroom but some dumb slob was passed out on the floor, lying in his own puke and piss. Stupid asshole. JJ went out the front of the building and circled around to the side where Buddy sat on the curb, singing to himself. Snow covered his head but he didn’t seem to feel it at all.
“Time to go Buddy,” JJ said, hoisting him up by his arms.
“Shit, I don’t feel so good. Do you feel so good?” he asked.
“I feel just fine. Come on, I know a short cut back to the dorm,” JJ said.
“Shortcut. Like strawberry shortcut?” he said and broke out laughing again.
“This way,” JJ said, steering him around the back of the building and down the side street.
“Where the hell are we going?” Buddy asked, suddenly stopping and staggering against a postbox.
“I told you, it’s a short cut,” JJ said, pushing him on.
“Shortcut? Strawberry shortcut,” he said again and doubled over with laughter.
“Yeah, it was real funny the first time too,” JJ muttered.
“You’re a spoil sport, that’s your problem, Mr. High and Mighty,” Buddy replied.
The got to a large clearing and JJ stopped.
“I gotta pee again. You go on ahead. Straight toward that light over there,” he said, pointing to a streetlight in the distance.
“What the hell? I can’t make it that far,” Buddy complained.
“Just go on, I’ll pee real fast and catch up with you,” JJ replied, giving him a shove in the back.
Buddy looked at him for a second over his shoulder, shrugged and took off walking across what appeared to be a large field.
He had gone about twenty yards when he yelled back at JJ, “Hey buttwipe. This ain’t no field, it’s a frickin’ lake or something. I’m standing on ice you shithead.”
No answer came back.
“JJ you dumb ass. Where are you?” he yelled. His feet slid out from under him and he landed with a hard thump on his butt. He yelled, rolled over on his back and started laughing.
“Shit. Look at all those snowflakes,” he muttered. He tried to get up again but fell forward.
He heard a loud crack and water started to seep up through the ice.
“Damn it. Shit, I’m getting all wet. JJ, where the hell are you? Hey you little jerk-off,” he yelled, his voice echoing through the night air.
No answer. He took a step and his foot went through the ice. Suddenly a large cracking noise followed and he was plunged into the frigid water. He tried to swim and yell but his heavy clothes were pulling him down. He fought and flailed his arms but he was still going down, deeper and deeper.
He tried to scream but ice water filled his lungs. Finally he quit fighting and sank to the bottom. Jerome watched from the shore and then quickly turned and walked back to the Hut. He came back in and went to the table where they were before.
“Hey, have you guys seen Buddy? He was supposed to meet me outside. Where the hell is he?” JJ demanded.
“Who? Buddy? Hell, it ain’t my turn to watch that asshole.”
“I think he went to the pisser,” one of the other guys said and let his head fall over on the table.
JJ went to the restroom and the same drunk was on the floor. He walked
back to the bar and summoned the bartender.
“Do you know Buddy Martin?”
“Buddy? Sure. Over at that table,” he said, pointing across the room where JJ had just come from.
“I’m his roommate. He was going to meet me out front but never showed. I can’t find him,” he said.
“So? I don’t know where he is. Try the restroom,” the harried bartender said, looking up from making a drink.
“I did. He ain’t there. There’s a drunk passed out on the floor,” JJ said.
“Ain’t there always?” was all he said, starting to walk off.
“But I need to get him back to the dorm. He was pretty drunk.”
“Buddy is always drunk. Probably went out the side door and is already back puking in his rack,” the bartender replied and walked away.
Jerome was satisfied that he had been noticed enough being concerned about his poor drunk roommate. He walked back to the dorm and made a point of asking several people milling around if they had seen Buddy. Of course no one had. He went to bed, happy with his night’s work. It was his first human kill and he liked it. It was the beginning of many more to come.
CHAPTER TWO
Jerome let the whole next day go by without reporting Buddy missing. When he did, no one seemed too alarmed. Buddy was known to miss classes for several days in a row. The following day he went to the campus police and reported him missing.
“So the last time you saw him was two nights ago?”
“Yeah. We were at the Hut. He was going to go back to the dorm but he never showed up,” JJ replied.
“And you are just now reporting this?” the police officer asked.
“Hey, I told the dorm leaders. They said it was no big deal. Buddy often goes on a binge for a few days at a time,” JJ replied.
“Uh-huh. And you never saw him again once you left the Hut?”
“I waited out front for him, freezing my ass off. Finally I went back and checked the bar, even the restrooms. I talked to the others and the bartender but no one could help me. I came on back to the dorm and asked around but no one had seen him. I figured he could have gone on to one of the other bars that are open until 2:00 a.m. I wasn’t about to go looking for him in every bar in town. He’s my roommate, not my brother,” JJ replied flippantly.
The Logan Files - Pain Center: The Logan Files Page 1
