Wordlessly, they drifted through the corridors, down the elevator shaft, across the front lobby, and out of the hospital’s sliding doors. Reforming in the backseat of Ludo’s truck, they took a moment to stare at each other before bumping knuckles.
Ludo glanced up to the rearview mirror. “About time. You’ve been gone forever. I almost fell asleep. What are you two loons grinning about? It couldn’t have been that damn fun.”
Baruch leaned forward and clapped Ludo on the shoulder. “Brother, you would be amazed at what you might run across in there. I’m definitely coming back. That place is full of surprises. We’re going to owe Cato big time.”
* * * *
Keely shifted in her chair, still disturbed by the body-shivering dance she’d performed by the doorway. Rubbing her arms, she was surprised that she could still smell the scrumptious aftershave of the two hunks that had crashed in and out of her life. Attempting, and failing, to push their images to the back of her mind, Keely jumped when the computer sounded an e-mail notification. Seconds later, she was scouring the police report Adam had promised.
“Okay, let’s see. Cops get a call about a hostage situation, the homeowner lets them in, Caelius Meron already subdued the perpetrator by the time they get inside, Wharton fights the officers while screaming for Rhia, and they take him to jail. Yada, yada, yada…nothing new there.” The farther she scrolled down the report, the faster her heart began to pound.
“Ah, yeah. Here we go. During the ride to the jail, Wharton repeatedly yells that the man at the residence disappeared into thin air. Upon booking, the inmate continues to insist that he saw the victim become invisible. Psychiatric evaluation requested.” She slumped in her chair. “Damn, Keely. He didn’t get his story from the other inmates.” Shaking her head, she reread the report and frowned when she noticed the 911 caller’s name.
“Cato Telarius. Why does that sound familiar?”
Searching through the other cases, Keely couldn’t believe what was staring her straight in the face. Cato Telarius had been at every scene. He’d made the 911 call in the Sewell incident, Foster told Donald Brown that he’d turned his head just in time to see Telarius appear from out of nothing right before the guy kicked his ass, and now he’s the caller for the Wharton attack. Each man associated with the cases, Severus Faal, Cato Telarius, and Caelius Meron, named the Heat Seeker agencies as their place of employment. This wasn’t a coincidence.
Swiveling her chair back and forth until the squeak drove her nuts, Keely tried to come up with a plausible explanation, but it kept diving right back to square one—Sewell, Foster, and Wharton had seen something incredible, and no one was listening.
Chapter 4
As soon as the “Welcome to Huntsville” sign made an appearance, Keely felt her muscles stiffening. Mumbling a few juicy curses, she tried to slow her roll.
“Get a grip, dumbass. It’s just a parole hearing. It’s not like it’s your first one. You practiced your statement, you have your facts, and the guy is a douche bag. Stick to what you do best, and everything will work out just fine.” Despite her best efforts, she still couldn’t get her shoulders to drop back into normal position.
“Screw you, Ernest McKinley. The last thing I needed was to get up at dark thirty and waste a day on your sorry ass.” Glancing to the convict’s folder lying on the passenger seat, Keely knew she wasn’t going to relax unless she thought of something else. The two additional police reports sent by Adam last night immediately popped into her head. She knew Wharton had issues, but this new information just drove home the depth of his obsessive personality.
According to the documents, a young woman named Sarah Fielding had stumbled into the Travis County Sherriff’s Department one cold winter night, screaming that she was being followed by her boss, Scott Wharton. She’d given her notice at his pastry shop three days earlier, but he continued to plead for her return. While shopping for groceries, she’d spotted his vehicle following her from the parking lot. Despite the immediate scouring of the area, no one could prove that it had occurred. The next morning, Sarah filed for a restraining order claiming she’d caught Wharton peering through her apartment window. He was questioned, but nothing came of it. Knowing that Sarah Fielding fled Austin the next day to parts unknown and never followed up on the case left Keely with an uneasy feeling. Poor Rhia Brennan had become Sarah’s replacement, in more ways than one. That was two years ago. The second report had brought her greater pause.
Six years prior, Scott had been questioned in the disappearance of his wife while he resided in Colorado. Over a two-week period, he’d been grilled by senior detectives, yet he’d never wavered from his story—she’d simply left the house and never returned. The case was dropped a week later when they found her car and decomposing body dangling off the side of a deep embankment. Keely wondered if that had been the catalyst for shattering Scott’s personality. Was this the way his mind tried to handle the tragedy, or was he displaying the tendencies before her death? Damn, could he have forced his wife off the road?
Shaking her head, Keely tried to focus on the traffic. “Give it a rest. You’re not a damn detective. I’m sure the authorities considered all of the possibilities.” She snorted. “Great, now I sound like Webb.”
Grimacing, she felt familiar anger rising at her boss’s reaction after receiving the e-mail she’d sent last night. Despite her initial hesitation, she’d hoped this additional claim by Wharton might jolt him into finally listening to her. All she got was a threat of a write-up for insubordination if she mentioned invisible people one more time. What an ass. She startled when the navigation system announced that she’d reached her destination.
Glancing up, Keely felt the same apprehension she’d experienced the last time she’d passed by the tall, imposing, red brick walls of Huntsville State Prison. The looping rolls of razor wire stretching along the top and the distinctive guard towers capping each corner left nothing to the imagination. Whatever was inside was meant to stay. She had no problem with that, whatsoever. Flipping her ID and credentials out for the gate guard to verify, she waited patiently for the tall, fortified fences to rumble open and grant her entrance.
Rounding into the spacious parking lot, she found a spot next to a shade tree and backed into the slot. For some insane reason, she liked the idea that she could make a quick getaway if need be. Turning off the ignition, Keely slumped against the seat, content to watch people walking in and out of the administrative building. She had ten minutes before she had to report in, and she wasn’t going to waste it sitting in the front lobby staring at her shoes.
Despite the clear morning sky, the institution still looked like it was cast in cloying shadows of dread. There wasn’t anything pleasant about the place, no matter the manicured lawn and flowering bushes trying to paste beauty over an ugly situation. The sight of a police vehicle parking close to the entrance triggered her brain to something she’d forgotten to take care of before leaving Austin. Snatching her phone, she composed a quick text message to Adam.
Are you able to meet me tonight? I have a favor to ask. I’m in Huntsville right now, but should be available around nine. South Congress Café good?
Keely snorted when she received an immediate response.
Yes. I’ll be there. Anytime...anywhere. xoxo A.
“Well, my eager little suitor, it looks like I’m going to have to temper your enthusiasm tonight. This isn’t a date, and I’m not going to lead you on. Let’s see if you’re a true friend and will still help me out once I put the brakes on your pursuit.” She shot back a smiley face and turned off the phone. Keely prayed that Adam was an up-and-up guy. She wasn’t going to get far if he refused to help.
Traipsing through the Internet last night had given her just enough information on the Heat Seeker agencies to know where each was located, hours of operation, and their business purpose. Other than that, she didn’t have a clue about the owner, Daniel Tarquinius. She couldn’t find a trace of him anywhere excep
t the one line on their website listing him as the CEO. He was an enigma and a veritable ghost. The same applied to Severus, Cato, and Caelius. Well, her only option now was to check them out in person and hope that Adam would run a background on these guys. She snickered at her decision to go inside the club tonight. What in the hell am I getting myself into? I’m going to stand out like a sore thumb. She glanced up when a groundskeeper walked past the front of her car.
One look at her watch, and every bit of anxiety she’d managed to shake off returned with a vengeance. “Crap! Get a move on, girl. You got two minutes to get inside.” Snatching the inmate folder, Keely hauled ass across the parking lot, and scrambled up the stairs, wishing the entire time that she’d worn her flats. Breathless, she scribbled her name on the sign-in sheet, giving the clerk a brief smile before skirting the area for an available chair. It was unnecessary.
“Dr. Anderson?”
Startled, Keely’s eyes darted over to an open doorway filled with a smiling man sporting slicked-back, gray hair, and a blue business suit. His dark eyes were kind, and his thick brows were lifted in question.
“Yes. I’m Dr. Anderson.”
His smile grew, and he waved her forward. “Excellent, you’re on time. We’re ready for you.”
As soon as his back was to her, Keely smoothed her skirt, checked her collar, and patted her bun into place. She knew this was her usual tick indicating nervousness and tried to calm down. Easy, simple, piece of cake, no biggie, you’re a trained professional…breathe…just breathe.
Keely gave the other five people making up the parole panel a quick smile and took a seat at the small table situated in front of theirs. A flash of televised senate hearings hit her brain, and she squashed the need to laugh at the ridiculous notion. She placed the inmate’s case folder on the tabletop, clasped her fingers together, and lowered her hands onto her lap. One deep breath later, she was looking up at the four men and two women that would decide Ernest McKinley’s fate. She was relieved to see all were leaning forward with eyes focused and ready to hear what she had to say. Good sign. Keely looked back to the gray-haired gentleman when he settled onto his chair and spoke up.
“Go ahead, Dr. Anderson. You can begin anytime you’re ready.”
With a quick nod, Keely opened the folder, made a brief glance at her notes, and began the conversation she’d meticulously prepared over the last three months.
“Thank you for having me here today. I’ll come directly to the point. McKinley is not going to change. He’s a creature of his surroundings. Extensive history of paternal abuse, abandonment by his mother, a long-standing gang affiliation, anger management issues, and repeated drug use has defined and molded this individual’s base personality. He’s not a wayward youth with potential for rehabilitation. That time is long past. McKinley is well into his fifties and rooted in his lifestyle choices. Whatever environment he finds himself within, he’ll acclimate. He’s a chameleon, something the streets taught him in order to survive. It was that very same capability to persuade that led to the jury’s irrational sympathy for him. By all rights, he should be entrenched on death row, not facing a parole hearing.” Keely placed her palms on the table and leaned forward, demonstrating the confidence of her words and the urgency of the situation.
“I’ve studied the history of his time here, and on paper he appears to be a model inmate. But if you look closely enough, it’s likely that you’ll find he has guards working for him and a long line of sycophants begging for his attention. He’s charismatic and manipulative. You must consider, however, that he’s only behaving because he doesn’t have access to enough drugs to send him over the edge, or a chance to commandeer a ten-inch blade that he can repeatedly plunge into a defenseless person.”
Keely remained quiet for a few beats, taking her time to assess each set of receptive eyes. She had them. Brows slightly raised, lids wider than normal, and lips parted as their breath increased were but a few of the signs. It was time to bring this home. She felt her shoulders drop a notch.
Without looking away, Keely lifted two photos from the folder and held them out for the panel to see. “This is Mary and Celia, McKinley’s victims. Mary had just started a new job as a legal assistant. She’d gone to night school while holding down two jobs to support her family. Celia was only sixteen. She never got to enjoy the surprise birthday party that her mother had planned for that weekend. With precision accuracy, McKinley snuffed out their hopes, dreams, and potential. I want you to remember these faces as you make your decision today. They quit breathing twenty years ago, while he’s continued to enjoy the privilege. Their smiles only exist in these photos now, while I’m sure he gave you all a beaming one as he spoke of his relationship with the Lord and that he’s a changed man. Don’t be fooled.”
Setting the pictures aside, she brought out a larger one and held it out for their perusal. Stiffened postures, clenched fists, and pursed lips informed her that the crime scene photo was just as gruesome as the day it’d been shot—colorful, vivid, and telling. She set it next to the smiling women and leaned back in her chair, voice resigned.
“I met with this man. I looked him directly in the eye, and I saw no remorse, only calculation. Even with his refusal to speak with me, his personality was evident. He’s a sociopath, and I feel there’s no rehabilitation possible. If he gets past these walls, he’ll hunt for that which appeals to him the most, and I guarantee you it won’t have the words ‘Holy Bible’ written on the outside of the package. He’ll have no boundaries and will relapse within weeks, despite whatever lawful measures you perceive as duplicating his bars. Every death will land solidly on your heads. I know that’s a harsh statement, but you don’t need words steeped in psychobabble or emotion. This is too important. I can only ask that you see the inmate for what he is—a killer.”
The room remained silent for many moments. Keely slowly gathered the photos and slipped them back inside the folder, allowing the panel time to get their shit together. She looked up when a women’s soft voice sounded from the end of the table. The smile was warm, and her hazel eyes were shiny with moisture. Keely had to give her credit for keeping the evident emotion from lacing her words.
“We appreciate you taking the time to come in today, Dr. Anderson. Your experience in the field of psychiatry is extremely valuable in helping us to understand motives and future actions.”
Keely watched the woman’s throat work on a hard swallow and the quick fluttering of her lashes before she continued.
“Most of all, we would all like to express how sorry we are for the loss of your mother and sister at McKinley’s hands. I can’t even imagine how difficult this must have been for you, so we appreciate the calm professionalism you’ve shown today. Please take care on your trip back home. We’ll notify you of our decision.”
Gifting the nice woman with an equally warm smile, Keely nodded and gave each member a brief glance. “Thank you for listening. I know you’ll make the right choice. I look forward to your findings. Good day.”
Rising from the table, Keely walked proudly from the room, smiled at the receptionist while she signed out, strode across the parking lot, and barely made it to the back of her car. Slamming a palm down on the trunk, she bent over and lost her breakfast all over the bright green grass of Huntsville, Texas. Blinking back tears while fighting the black spots swimming in front of her eyes, Keely prayed that if she face-planted she didn’t crack her head open on the curb. She’d be damned before she’d ever shed blood for that psychotic asshole.
Feeling confident that the dry heaves had finally subsided, she scrambled into the car and latched the seat belt. Grabbing her purse from the back seat, she pulled out several tissues and patted her eyes and mouth. Sucking on a mint she’d gleefully discovered at the bottom of the bag, Keely felt somewhat normal—almost. Retrieving the photos of her sister and mother from the folder, Keely passed her thumb across the old pictures. They’d taken on a yellowish hue as the years had gone by, but the
ir features were still stark and exact inside her brain.
“I hope I did right by you today. Don’t worry. I’ll never forget your smiles.”
Chapter 5
“What’s a Facebook?”
Surprised by his mate’s question, Baruch shrugged. “No clue. Where’d you hear that word?”
Makar pointed over his shoulder to Ludo standing close to Petrus. Both had a palm planted on the club wall, staring at a bank of monitor’s sitting on a wide shelf next to the office, and shaking their heads in unison.
“Ludo told Petrus if he had set up Facebook like he’d suggested, all the females would know that the club was closing early tonight.”
Baruch hopped off the stool and pushed through the small opening that allowed them behind the bar. “Are they still arriving?”
Petrus glanced back. “It’s starting to slow down. Perhaps I should’ve made the posted sign bigger. Some get out and pull at the door a few times before they decide to leave.”
Ludo patted the center monitor, a big grin on his face. I love this thing. Cato hooked me up. Watch this.”
Peering over Makar’s shoulder, Baruch watched Ludo swivel a few levers on the main console. The image changed to the back lot, the sides of the building, and then to the covered drive. He looked very pleased with himself.
“Before, I’d have to walk the perimeter to see if anyone was lurking around. Look, another one’s coming.”
A yellow car pulled close to the front entrance. Four females poured out of the doors, their wide smiles deflating as soon as they read the posted sign. Still, they tugged at the door handle as if it would miraculously open upon their insistent efforts. Finally getting a clue, they piled back inside the car and drove away.
Fueled by Lust: Makar and Baruch (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 4
