by Gary Starta
Caitlin finally managed to get some shut-eye in flight, but the rest was not peaceful. Dreams of Geoffrey and her sister haunted her. She woke up startled, feeling she had betrayed them both. For Caitlin, there was only one way to remedy the situation. She would get lost in her work and hopefully catch a lead on finding Geoffrey’s killers.
Caitlin had not even begun to fathom how she would catch the nation’s latest serial killer. She intentionally kept the TV off and her nose out of the newspapers for recuperative purposes. In a few hours, she would be briefed on the killer who had taken precedence over Geoffrey’s case. She would also find herself paired with a new partner whose methodology radically differed from hers.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire....
***
Assistant Director Dudek rubbed the nicotine patch on his arm, hoping it would release the drug into his system. What a time to quit smoking. Hainsworth had been riding his back like a monkey for nearly two weeks straight about procedural directives concerning the Arrowhead Killer. The FBI head recommended pairing up Rivers with another academy hopeful named Courtney Johnstone. He believed two eager rookies would be strongly motivated to apprehend a high-profile killer. Hainsworth believed accolades fired the desire in his agents. Dudek knew this line of reasoning was flawed—agents dug hard to solve cases because it’s in their blood, not to get their names in the press.
But Andrew never dared to engage the director in a face-to-face confrontation over this or any other kind of disagreement. He believed in covert manipulation. The end result was all that mattered anyway. As long as he produced results, he would run investigations the way he saw fit.
And Dudek saw fit to put all his faith into Special Agent Caitlin Diggs, praying she would return to old form. He knew failure was not an option. If Dudek were to oppose the director on this one, he would have to substantiate his disobedience with tangible results. In other words, if Diggs weren’t up to par, the ax would fall on them both.
The intercom buzzed, announcing Diggs was in the waiting room. Both Dudek and Diggs were experiencing the nervous flutter of butterflies in their stomachs. They had not seen each other since the week of McAllister’s murder. On the lip of Dudek’s desk, lay Caitlin’s badge and gun. Dudek ordered his secretary to see the agent in at once as if the reclaiming of her job and weapon would suddenly make all his problems disappear.
After a brief handshake, Diggs instinctively went to reach for her badge, not waiting for Dudek’s approval. The A.D. took this as a good sign. She’s ready to go, he told himself. But one minute later, her eyes betrayed her confidence. The assistant director knew the look. He had seen it in every one of his agents at one time or another. Whenever a case could not be closed, the look came out. It was like watching the helpless stare of a small puppy. Dudek knew they were waiting for him to offer up some great advice on how to pull the case out of the fire. But there were very few times Dudek actually could offer a fresh insight on how to break a stalled investigation. For this reason alone, he became addicted to cigarettes, but eventually he became sickened with his obsession. The smell of stale smoke on his clothes only further reminded him of past failures. Today was the day to project a winning attitude—the Arrowhead Killer would be stopped, and Geoffrey McAllister’s killers would pay for their crimes.
Dudek flipped opened the case file on his desk with authority. He hoped Diggs’ reinstatement would instill fresh confidence and enthusiasm in both himself and the veteran agent. He provided an outline of the case to Diggs, allowing several pauses, so she would be encouraged to offer her comments. But the comments never came. Agent Diggs played with the buttons on her gray business suit like they were buttons on a radio dial. She and Dudek were not on the same frequency modulation.
“Is something the matter, agent?”
“Yes, sir, I had hoped to be briefed about the developments in the Miami terrorist investigation. You promised me not to worry about it. It’s the main reason I agreed to take leave. I trust we have some new leads to track down my partner’s killers.”
Andrew Dudek knew he would have to change tactics if he was to put Diggs’ mind on the right track. He would have to talk to the agent like a friend, instead of a superior.
“Caitlin, right now the case is inactive. We have every reason to believe the killers fled the country. The two perps only agreed to a meeting in Florida so they could gain easy egress to international waters. That is the very reason I discouraged Agent McAllister from taking on the case in the first place. There must have been a breach in our surveillance efforts. As a result, our suspects had probably already discovered Geoffrey was FBI from the get go. I did everything in my power to convince him to let the case go. But Hainsworth had impressed upon Geoffrey the bureau’s desperate need to make some headway in the fight against terror. In the director’s own words: ‘An arrest would make Americans feel safe again, they need to feel confident their government is aggressively seeking an end to terror.’ So you see, Hainsworth was the one who doggedly solicited Geoffrey’s participation even though he knew our intelligence network may have compromised.”
“I can’t believe Hainsworth is not making this top priority. My partner...my friend, gave his life for the director’s cause. And this is how we repay his sacrifice?”
“I must also bring something else to light, Agent Diggs. I purposely kept you assigned to the Pennsylvania Federal Reserve robbery during the sting. As things turned out, it was for your own good.”
“With respect, sir, I have had enough interference from my own family regarding my career choice. I don’t need your protection.”
“Your assignment was at the request of Geoffrey. He begged me not to assign you to the terrorist gun-running sting. As a friend to both of you, I agreed to keep his assignment a secret from you.”
Diggs’ immediate reaction was to rail at McAllister. In her head, she reprimanded her former lover/partner: How could you do something so stupid? We would have had a future together. What am I supposed to do now? You’ve left me all alone to figure out how I’m going to pick up the pieces.
The rant in her mind finally subsided as she realized Geoffrey was protecting her out of love. Her gaze fell to her badge. She rubbed it in the palm of her hand, hoping to gain some solace that her partner died honorably in the line of duty. She asked Dudek to forgive her outburst. He gladly accepted, leaving his chair to rest his hands on her shoulders.
“Agent McAllister will receive the highest commendation for his sacrifice. But I need you to put out a bigger fire first, Agent Diggs. Capture this Arrowhead Killer and then I promise you we will reopen the Miami investigation and bring those men to justice.”
Diggs realized this was the only option. How else could you take the death of a dear one? She would have to carry on. Geoffrey McAllister would expect no less from her.
Taking a moment to straighten her suit, she refocused her attention.
“So what can you tell me about my new partner?”
“I think that should be left to Agent Rivers. Here’s her cell number. Maybe you two can arrange a short meeting before you depart to Oklahoma.”
“She’s not going with me?”
“I want to utilize both of your strengths. Since Rivers’ expertise is in biochemistry, she will be working with the pathologist in Quantico. We’re hopeful forensics can reveal some clues about the race and sex of our suspect from blood samples. I want you to do what you do best: find and connect evidence that the state and local authorities may have missed at the crime scenes. I have prepared an itinerary. I also need you to interview our only viable witness so far, Josh Mathews, the Arkansas store clerk.”
Agent Diggs summoned a steady voice from deep within to assure Dudek she would do her best. An hour later, she phoned Rivers to introduce herself. The young agent declined to share a cup of coffee, citing the importance of the blood analysis work. Rivers also curtly ended the conversation. She invited Diggs to peruse her personal case file to access any
“pertinent information” she might need to know about her.
Diggs was intrigued and appalled all at the same time. On one hand, Rivers’ gruff demeanor took Diggs back. However, a small part of her applauded Rivers’ candor. It reminded her of McAllister. He was one to never pull any punches or let his personal feelings compromise an investigation.
Diggs hailed a taxi for the airport, feeling refreshed. She was experiencing exuberance, an emotion she strongly associated with her past. Although she couldn’t put her finger on it, Caitlin had felt the same way fifteen years ago as a rookie agent taking on her first assignments. Somewhere between FBI headquarters and the airport, Caitlin Diggs had reclaimed her sense of purpose. She drank in the high like fresh air on a mountain, because in the recesses of her mind, Caitlin was well aware that exuberance and purpose could not mask a deeper wound. Sooner or later she would feel the pangs of uncertainty come creeping back into her mind like a weed. And like an uninvited lawn pest, this doubt had a good feeding source to grow from—Caitlin Diggs’ memories of Geoffrey McAllister.
Chapter 9
Shenk took refuge in the back seat of the Dodge four hours after fleeing the Arkansas murder scene. Although he had sped off blindly, he had managed to continue along Route 40 until he reached its intersection with Route 64. His car came to a rest along a stretch of highway in what Shenk described as “the middle of nowhere.” Actually, the town was called Shady Grove. Few signs and even fewer street lamps graced this route that took him deeper into northwest Arkansas.
Shards of early morning daylight streamed into the car during the next two hours, reminding Shenk he was seriously in need of a bath and change of clothing.
Opening the rear passenger door, he intentionally flopped headfirst into a patch of mud. He hoped to smear some dirt on his blood-stained shirt and jeans before discarding them. However, it would take a lot more than mud to conceal the crimson and purple blood stains. His thoughts turned to fear. Maybe some animal would catch his scent and drag the clothes to a place where someone could identify his escape route. He would have to burn them. Fortunately, Grandma’s nephew had left behind a Bic lighter in the glove compartment to expedite the task. He walked about fifty yards into a wooded area teeming with brush and pine trees. Using the toe of his sneaker, he dug a shallow hole and set the fuel and blood-soaked clothes into it. The flame of the lighter dug into the apparel for a feast.
Shenk reasoned he would have to stay and watch the blaze to make sure it did not spread. He remembered hearing how brush fires had been started due to carelessness. He wondered aloud how people could be so stupid and disrespectful of nature. He did not find his line of thinking odd. But if he had allowed himself to recall a small semblance of his childhood, he would have remembered how he purposely set leaves on fire while his parents slept during a camping trip. Shenk had only been seven years old, and he didn’t even know what nature was. But if he had, he certainly would not have respected it. Someone or something now clearly influenced his new way of thinking. The fact he escaped without seeing one police car had been a miracle in itself. It should have reminded him he was on a mission and something or someone must be guiding him.
A logical person might chalk up Shenk’s bit of good fortune to budget restraints rather than supernatural guidance. After all, here he was standing in the woods dressed in boxer shorts and sneakers watching a fire like some kind of wanna-be pyromaniac. Was this the divine plan of a higher being—or the result of budget cuts? Plans to set up a roadblock had been squashed because the union contract demanded officers be paid double time. The investigation was further hindered by the fact no one had a description of the getaway car. State law enforcement heads, basically too stingy to do whatever it takes to apprehend the Arrowhead Killer, played a big a part in Shenk’s getaway as well.
So could all this “dumb luck” be attributable to the crystal? Could this pendant be responsible for altering circumstances to get Shenk to do its bidding? Even though his body had completely healed from two fatal stabbings, Shenk did not give pause to think about where his journey was taking him. He only knew that he trusted the pendant’s guidance without question.
Shenk welcomed the sunlight even though it disturbed his rest. He had slept long enough to enter into a REM state. His dreams were strewn with images of people and places. He recognized none of these people. They were not Charlie Jones, the store clerk, or Bandanna Man. For all he knew, the places were not even Texas, Oklahoma, or Arkansas. However, the images were as vivid as a red rose and smelled as real as the fire burning before him.
He recalled a blue and white flag whipping in the wind. Its center depicted a diamond with four protruding lines extending in different directions. The clear blue sky, which surrounded this flag, suddenly fell dark as if someone had thrown a black bucket of paint on it. Shrieks and yells pierced this pitch-black landscape until the outlines of three men were revealed. They were soldiers riding horses. They wore some kind of ancient uniform. One of them held an American flag. It was painfully clear to Shenk these men rode with a purpose.
Shenk could not fathom what their purpose was, however, because the scene imploded back into light before they reached their destination. The light was blinding. However, it soon segued into the broad spectrum of colors found in a rainbow. Shenk spied a bobcat prowling the precipice of a cliff made entirely of this light. The animal jumped on its hind legs and growled, managing to stand its ground on nothing but light waves. It seemed to beckon Shenk to follow it over the edge of the cliff. The animal gave Shenk one last glance before it jumped. Once in flight, the cat transformed itself into a torrential downpour. It fell against the backdrop of a star lit sky. Shenk noticed the cascading droplets were not made of water—but blood. Red stripes of rain mixed with the blue and white field of stars to create a kaleidoscope. The projection cleared and a dark-skinned man came into focus. He was horizontally positioned over what appeared to be a young Native American woman. They were making love so intensely Shenk felt as if he were inside the girl. Her cries of ecstasy were intermingled with the growls of the bobcat.
Shenk doused the dying embers of the fire with his sneaker trying to ignore the explicit images of his dream. The vision of the young Native American girl portrayed in his visions immediately made him hard. Shenk’s organ pressed against his underwear reminding him of the promise he had made earlier. But once again he would have to answer another calling first—hunger.
Shenk scurried to his car and popped the trunk open to fish out a fresh short sleeve, orange polo shirt and a black pair of Dockers. He stared at his reflection in the car’s side view mirror. The shirt made him appear older. Or was it the new lines that now creased his face? He poked at his beard stubble trying to remember if the wrinkles around his mouth had been there just a day before.
Shenk banded his hair into a ponytail and bounded into the driver’s seat, pausing just an instant to consult with his crystal. A decision had been made. He would stop at the first diner he could find in the middle of nowhere.
***
The middle of nowhere did provide one eatery as advertised on a highway billboard. About fifteen miles into the new day’s trek, Shenk spotted a yellow billboard portraying the face of a smiling cartoon cow. It invited “truckers and tourists alike to take the next exit for a good hot meal anytime—day or night.” Shenk took the next exit as instructed. His stomach was in no mood to debate whether a cartoon character should serve as a food critic. However, the Dodge seemed more cautious. The car gingerly navigated itself over the flint and pebble parking lot of Plates on the Move the way a stunt man walks over hot coals.
The waitress, Gayle Swenson, wiped down a table located at the back of the diner. Shenk located an empty seat across from her. Why she had to wipe down tables with a damp cloth was anybody’s guess. In her mind, she only rearranged germs on each table. But rules were rules at Plates on the Move.
Outside these confines, Gayle could abide by her own set of rules. One of them al
ways told her to follow her instinct. At this moment, her instinct was telling her the young hottie in the orange shirt could be tonight’s date.
Although her boss had just advised her to punch out, she graciously decided to stay and wait on the disheveled man who wore his long blond hair in a ponytail.
Gayle’s boss seemed keen to her true intentions, but he acquiesced to her request anyway. “Just don’t expect time and a half,” he shouted before disappearing into the kitchen.
Swenson smoothed a lock of her blond hair over her ear and retrieved a pen and order pad from her vest. Sauntering over to the table, she was chemically aware Shenk had taken notice of her. “Men are such slaves to visual cues,” she noted to herself as a matter of fact. “I wonder what he really wants to order.”
Every diner employee was aware Gayle openly invited stares from transients as well as the regulars. With the exception of body art, nothing in the world could fan her flames higher. However, she would never admit this to anyone, especially to her boss. She pretended the glances were hazards of the job just like getting screwed out of a tip. Her boss continued to believe the men were to blame—until today. Today he saw Gayle in action.
“Would you like to see something from our breakfast menu?” Gayle positioned the laminated menu between herself and Shenk, prompting him to return eye contact with her.
“I would like a turkey club sandwich.” Shenk did not even know if it was on the menu. In actuality, it was all planned by the crystal, which needed to feed as well. It required tryptophan, an amino acid found in turkey. The crystal was well aware that tryptophan maintained a high seratonin level, even if Shenk was not. And a high seratonin level would keep Shenk upbeat, positive, and ready to take on any challenge, including murder. The crystal was also very aware of its role in attracting the opposite sex.
