[Criminally Insane 01.0] Bad Karma

by Douglas Clegg

  He was afraid it would mean that they were returning to life.

  And that he would never return to that mainland, not if Agnes Hatcher ever found him.

  “You’re not staying here,” she said. “No. Not with that monster running loose.” She jutted her jaw out a bit to emphasize her determination on this point.

  “Carly, I have to, ” he said. “She’s still here. I know her, Carly. I know what she wants.”

  Carly seemed like a fierce mother tiger defending her young. An anger sparked into flame behind her eyes. He could see the heat in her face. “You told me she’s a machine. If they don’t catch her, she’ll just kill you, Trey. And then I’ll be a widow and your children will be fatherless. No. I can’t let you do that. Not for some psycho or some job. Get your priorities straight.”

  “I have to stay,” he said, defeated. “I can help catch her.”

  Carly said nothing. She still held Mark in her arms; he was wrapped in a cotton blanket. She took Teresa’s hand. Teresa looked up at her father with tear-filled eyes. Her lower lip was trembling.

  Trey wanted more than anything to go with them.

  But if he did, he might be leading Agnes Hatcher right to them.

  He couldn’t do that.

  He had to trust his instincts on this.

  Carly turned and left the police station. The whole way out, Teresa glanced back at her father, wide-eyed, as if wondering why he wasn’t coming, too.

  There were no buildings to block the view to the harbor. The town was to the left, the sea straight ahead. Pelicans were gliding and diving near shore. The place possessed an unearthly silence. Jenny’s family and the family of the dead boy would be notified. Residents and tourists would be staying in, and locking up tonight. Catalina Island would be run by fear until the Gorgon was caught.

  Trey went and stood in the doorway. He wanted to go with Carly, but he was afraid that if he did, no one would ever catch Agnes Hatcher. Or, if he stayed with his family, maybe Agnes would turn up and kill all of them. He knew how to handle Hatcher. He knew how her mind worked. If he had only known that she was alive that day, he would never have left his family. He sent a mental prayer to Carly: Turn around. Look at me again. Tell me you love me.

  She didn’t turn back.

  “Wait!” he called. He ran out, through the street, catching up with her.

  When he did, he said, “I love you. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Carly said. Her eyes were dry. Her gaze was steady. The fire of anger was gone, replaced by resignation. “But do you love us enough to come with us? Do you love your children enough to stay with them?”

  “That’s not fair. If I can help in some way to catch her—”

  Carly interrupted him. “I’m tired of watching our children get the worst part of you, while the inmates of Darden State get the best part. We’ll be in Long Beach tonight. When you’re ready to, join us. We’re your family.”

  Trey watched her walk with the children to a tall policeman. The policeman indicated one of the docks where an L.A.P.D. boat was moored.

  Trey watched them get on the motor boat—the tall policeman, and a short policewoman, who was the pilot.

  He stayed and watched until the boat was underway.

  He knew that once the police had caught Agnes Hatcher, Carly would understand and forgive him.

  He knew he was doing the right thing.

  From behind him, Oscar Arboles called out, “Mr. Campbell! Let’s go see the snake in his pit.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  “Mommy?” Teresa asked as they got into the police motor boat.

  “Sweetie?”

  “Why isn’t Daddy coming with us?”

  “He has to help the police.”

  “Is that lady going to hurt Daddy?” Teresa asked.

  “No,” Carly said, not knowing whether or not she might be lying to her own daughter.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  A man who looked like a young sailor turned middle-aged fast sat on the cot in the other cell.

  He had blond hair, in a buzz cut to the sides, longish from there. He looked like a poster-child for steroid abuse. His Hawaiian shirt was soaked with blood.

  “Cobra, you have a visitor,” Oscar said. He pointed to a chair for Trey to sit in. Then, to Trey, he said, “I’m going back to my computer to pull some things up. You need me, just yell. But yell loud.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  The cop on the boat was named Erskine. He had a longish face—like a hound dog, Carly thought. He was sweetly goofy, trying to make jokes with the policewoman who was piloting the boat. He flirted innocently enough with Carly, but she was in no mood for such nonsense. She felt numb inside, and the only heat within her was anger at Trey for not coming with them. Mark, wrapped in the blanket, was tucked against Teresa’s arm.

  “Excuse me,” she said, as the boat got underway. “How long will it take to get to Long Beach?”

  Erskine smiled. “Well, the ocean’s calm tonight, so it won’t be bad. It might take as much as three hours. Four, if it gets choppy. You ever get sea-sick?”

  “Sometimes,” Carly said. She wrapped her arm around Teresa to help keep her warm.

  The policewoman sitting in the pilot’s chair was more business-like. She kept her face forward, and serenely guided the boat. Carly appreciated the fact that she hadn’t tried to make small talk with them. She tried to watch the stars, but something of a fog was drifting in—the sky had been clear minutes before. This was what summer tended to be like near the coast. She hoped it wouldn’t get any colder. The temperature could be seventy during the day, but then drop to a chilly sixty on the water at night. Carly closed her eyes, keeping her arm around her daughter and son.

  Erskine made a few inane comments to the policewoman, which Carly couldn’t hear. She was so furious with Trey for staying behind, the word divorce crossed her mind for a second. In her mind she smashed plates on the linoleum tile in their kitchen at home. In her mind, she was the most loving and understanding wife possible. Neither extreme was true.

  And then she thought: He’s doing the best he can. He’s doing what he believes in.

  The other thought, too:

  Don’t get hurt, Trey. Don’t get hurt. Let the cops catch this woman, shoot her down, throw a net over her, whatever you need to do, but just don’t get yourself in trouble.

  Erskine said to the policewoman, “So, what’s it like working on an island? Not a lot of action.” He was from San Pedro, brought out three hours earlier, only to turn around again. He glanced at her badge. “Stouffer. Like the frozen dinners.”

  “Paula,” she said, shooting him a nasty look. Erskine was taken aback for a second. She had seemed like a looker to him until he noticed her mean little eyes. They were almost squinty, and he always thought women were somehow tainted if they had squinty little eyes. Then, the look vanished from her face. Her eyes widened, doe-like. She was a babe again. “What’s it like on the mainland?” she asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t do much work in the harbor or anything. Mainly burglaries. Stolen cars. The usual.”

  The policewoman said nothing.

  “I’m sure I saw you at the academy,” Erskine said. “I never forget a face."

  Paula Stouffer half-smiled. “I’ve lectured at various academies.”

  “On what? Island hopping?” He was trying to make a joke, but it died in his mouth. He knew how feeble it sounded. “That killer back there was some doozy. Did you see the blood on the walls?”

  Paula Stouffer nodded. “Listen, can you steer for a minute? I want to get a smoke from my bag.”

  Erskine nodded. “Sure. I love piloting these babies.” He kept his eyes straight forward. It was pitch black, the sun having set just a brief while ago, but there was always an incipient light along the horizon where the mainland began.

  He felt the policewoman’s hand on his shoulder, and he grinned, feeling like maybe he was going to get lucky tonight.r />
  Her grip on his shoulder got stronger, sharper.

  Carly’s head drooped to the side, until it was completely leaning on Teresa’s. Teresa had fallen asleep, too.

  Only Mark was awake.

  Only Mark, wrapped in the blanket with his eyes wide, saw what happened to the policeman named Erskine. The dim green lights from the edges of the boat cast a shadow as the knife plunged into Erskine’s neck. The policewoman cut so sharply into Erskine’s throat, that his head fell almost completely backwards.

  When the policewoman finished, she turned a key in the boat’s ignition. She stepped around her seat. She walked calmly over and leaned close to Mark.

  She had handcuffs in one hand.

  In the other, a fishing knife.

  Mark saw her shadow face.

  Mark gasped, “The lady.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Trey Campbell sat down in the folding chair. The holding cell was gray. The bars were thick. Cobra had been finger-painting on the gray wall of his cell with his own feces. He’d painted a snake, complete with forked tongue.

  And he’d painted a woman. Stick figure. Oval breasts. A halo around her head.

  Cobra glanced over at him. Saw that he noticed his recent art. Seemed proud of it. He seemed so different than other human beings would be in the same situation. This man seemed as if he owned the world in which he existed.

  Trey knew then. He could feel it the way he felt it about the psychos on his ward. The way he knew about the doorman when he’d been a little kid. Cobra was one of them. Trey felt that chill, and the slight confusion. The sense that there was something so different about Cobra that it verged on paranoia. Or a complete understanding at the subliminal level of another human being. Cobra was of the same species as Agnes—but not as smart.

  “I like to draw,” Cobra said.

  “Did you draw the word ‘beloved’ on the wall at that cottage?”

  Cobra shook his head. “That’s a word. I don’t do words. I draw pictures. You like?” He tapped the wall with the snake. “It’s me and her. She’s righteous. She’s…” He seemed to burst with possible descriptions of her. Then, he said, “She’s everything.”

  “Tell me about her,” Trey said. Faking calm, he placed his hands carefully on his knees and didn’t look Cobra directly in the eye, but just past his left ear. He didn’t want to get into mind-games with this guy.

  Cobra grinned. He had a wide gap between his front teeth. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly. “She’s a goddess. She touched the face of the universe, man.” Then, leaning forward. “You got a cigarette?”

  Trey shook his head. “I don’t smoke. Sorry.”

  As if this were enough grounds for dismissal, Cobra leaned back on the cot. He crossed his arms behind his head and shut his eyes.

  “Tell me about her.”

  “Why should I? You can’t even get me a cigarette. You some lowlife rag picker trying to get me to confess? You can sit on it and rotate.”

  Trey got up and walked out of the cell. As he did, Cobra called out, “I like Marlboro Lights 100 in a box!”

  In the hall, he found a cigarette machine. He borrowed change from Oscar, and got the pack that Cobra wanted.

  Trey brought the cigarettes into the holding cell area. He passed a cigarette and a book of matches in to Cobra. Cobra took them, touching Trey’s slightly trembling hand.

  “Don’t be scared of me,” Cobra said. “I’m only the tool. She’s the operator, let me tell you. I could’ve sat out my days at the docks stealing from the till here and there. Nothing like this…” He lit the cigarette, and inhaled deeply. “This…magnificence…this brilliance.”

  “You mean Agnes?”

  Cobra nodded. “Thank you for the cigarette. You are truly a compassionate man.” He said this with mock-refinement.

  “Do you know where she is?”

  Cobra grinned. He had a grin like a sideshow barker: sleazy and compelling at the same time. “You’re the one, ain’t you?”

  Trey said nothing.

  Cobra laughed. “You’re the one she’s looking for. Those kids we took out. They wasn’t. They was fun for her. She told me she was collecting lifetimes to give you. On a platter, buddy.”

  “What do you mean?” Trey sat down in the chair by the cell. He leaned forward.

  “Before I say anything, can you get me a good lawyer?”

  “What?”

  “I’m an accomplice to murder. I know that. I’ll be happy to turn evidence against her, but only if I got me a good lawyer. One who’s gonna make sure she never gets out again. I know her now. It only took me a day, but I know her inside and out. She’s that way. Can you pass me that pack?” He asked, his hand out in supplication. “I like to chain-smoke.”

  Trey passed the cigarette pack to Cobra. Again, Cobra’s hand grazed the underside of his palm.

  Cobra quickly lit one cigarette off the first. He stubbed out the last of the first cigarette, and began smoking the next. The room was filling with smoke.

  “I can’t do much with regards to lawyers,” Trey said.

  “Oh,” Cobra puffed on the cigarette. “I guess I got nothing to say to you, in that case.”

  He swiveled around on the cot, and lay down.

  “She’s going to get you anyway,” Trey said, standing from the chair. He walked towards the door.

  As he touched the door knob, Cobra made a sputtering cough. “What?” He cried out. “Whatju say?”

  Trey turned, leaning back against the door. “She’s going to get you. Because you know her. She gets everyone who sees her in action. When she was caught last time, she had entire file cabinets with description of people who knew about her, and their families, and anyone who had ever come in contact with them. She was going to systematically operate on each of them. Even if it took several lifetimes. I may not be able to get you a lawyer, Cobra, but I can be a pretty decent witness. I know her. I know that she’s the one who went for the girl’s eyes and face. And I know why. I know that it was her, not you, who cut off the boy’s penis and killed him. You were just the—what would you call it?—the tough guy who scared those kids. You played with them after they were dead. You were the one who didn’t know how far she’d go.”

  “Hell,” he said, his voice raspy with smoke. “I didn’t even know she was gonna kill’em. I thought we was just gonna rough’em up and have some fun with ‘em. I like blood and all, but not the way she did.”

  “So,” Trey said. “Where is she?”

  Cobra cursed and kicked the toilet. “She really screwed me.”

  “Yeah she did. Royally.”

  When the man in the cell had calmed down some, he said, “I thought we was just gonna, you know, have fun and scare those kids. She told me she was after you ‘cause of that whole past lifetime crap. I held that boy…” Cobra began bawling like a baby. While he cried, he still managed to smoke. Trey knew the tears were fake. Cobra was a sociopath. Cobra couldn’t even understand that what he had just participated in, the murders of Jenny and her boyfriend, was wrong. He would think the mistake was in getting caught. If his tears were at all real, it was because he was caught, not because of remorse.

  Trey went back to the folding chair and sat down. “Where is Agnes Hatcher?”

  Cobra wiped his eyes, shuddering with tears. He took a long drag off a fresh cigarette. “Do you know about time and space? I mean, how she thinks about it? She sounds like friggin’ Einstein, you ask me. She talks about some kind of continuing thing…”

  “A time and space continuum,” Trey said.

  “Yeah. You do know her. The intersection, she said, of time and space. She collected all these things, you know, bits of hearts and lungs and livers, I thought she was some kind of cannibal, but she didn’t want to eat them. She told me they were for the path. The crossroads of time and space. They were the fuel to the path. She talked like she’d been there. Like she knew where she was going. It was wild,” he said this as if it were some w
onderful trip. “You want to know where she is?” He asked, rhetorically. “I mean, you’re never gonna find her. I tried to tell the other cops, but they weren’t like you…they were morons. You want me to tell you? I can tell you, but you won’t get it unless you know her. Unless you know her real well. She told me only one man was gonna understand it. Where she was going.” He snorted and laughed, a big hyena laugh. “You’re the one, ain’t you? You’re the love of her life, I can tell. She told me all about you. What you two did before. Seems like you should be inside here and me out there. How many women, mister? Ten, twelve? Slicing and dicing. Doin’ things to them that no man oughta do. But you wanna know something? She let me do her, mister. She put out for me.”

  Trey listen dispassionately. “I understand she attacked you, too."

  Instinctively, Cobra clutched his crotch.

  Trey said, “It’s because of what she let you do to her. If she remains free, Cobra, she’s going to finish that job. I know her. She’s a machine. She never starts something without finishing it. So tell me where she is.”

  Cobra, looking frightened for the first time, told everything he knew.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  On the boat at sea, Carly opened her eyes when she heard her son speak.

  “The lady,” Mark said, over and over.

  Carly looked up at the policewoman. Carly kissed Mark on the forehead. He’s getting better. He’ll be fine. This nightmare will be over soon. "That's right, Marky. The police lady.” The mist of fog, like a thin veil, drifted across the boat.

  “The lady,” Mark said again. Carly was about to say something to the policewoman, to ask why the boat had stopped, when she saw the large knife in the woman’s hands.