Terry didn’t know what to say. A couple of hours ago, when he met Decker, his first thought was he had just made another enemy. Now, it seemed he had a friend. Or at least an ally.
He shook his head. Maybe there was more to this town than he thought. Traci and this guy both seemed to love it without reservation. Either way, he decided whoever this guy was, he had to go. And go soon.
Out loud, he simply asked with a smile. “So, where’s a good place for lunch?”
Decker grinned, showing the expected massive teeth.
“Know a great place. You like Italian?”
Chapter Twenty
Terry and Decker slipped quietly into a little café near the scene of the last murders. Whether or not it was a coincidence that it was so close, Terry couldn’t say, but the food was excellent and the service was good, so he had no complaints.
They had just finished eating when Decker’s phone went off.
“Decker.”
Terry could see his forehead wrinkle. Whatever it was, it was something that concerned or perplexed him. Or both.
Decker sat listening for a couple of minutes then said quietly, “All right, I’ll be there in a few. Have Rich keep the guy on ice until I get there. And for God’s sake, don’t let anyone see him. Meantime, have the info on this clown sent to the strike team and see what they can come up with. Keep me posted.”
The phone slid into a pocket with a quick and well-practiced move. Something about the look on his face said it was something that he’d run across before. And the memory wasn’t exactly a good one.
“You must lead a charmed life, Bridger. You show up, the techs finally managed to get enough pixels or whatever they needed to get a picture of a guy at the tower, then we get the first witness we’ve had on this thing.”
Terry’s mouth dropped open. “Witness?”
Decker nodded as he said, “Yeah. Says he saw something when the woman cabbie was killed.”
“And it took him this long to come forward?”
“He says he was scared.”
“Why? Did the guy see him?”
“Not really sure. He just walked into the police station and said he needed to talk to somebody. The desk sergeant knew a little about what’s really going on and gave my office a call. Right now, they slipped him out the back and got him on ice at one of the mayor’s…safe houses down by the train station.”
“And this picture?”
Decker grinned proudly. “They found the right angle on a traffic camera. Got a rough picture of a guy in the area at the same time as Jones and this Moore chick. If he isn’t involved, maybe he can tell us something.”
“Hey, Momma always said I was better than a rabbit’s foot. But who the hell are Jones and Moore?”
Decker grinned even harder. “They were the ones that found the last guys that were attacked. They’re in another of the mayor’s safe houses.”
Terry took the term safe house for what it was worth. He was sure it was a double entendre, but he didn’t care about that right now. All he wanted was whatever these people knew.
“So, what do they say?”
“The first two been there a while. They aren’t saying much other than the woman hollering about being locked down. We’ll get to them later.”
Decker scratched his chin, trying to remember if he had shaved this morning. He was stalling. He didn’t know Bridger well enough to know how he would take this.
“The other guy is a Haitian,” he started quietly. “He’s been here most of his life they say. Used to be a steel worker in Pittsburgh way back when, but when the shit went bad there, it went real bad for him. His wife left him. His kid got killed in car wreck, and he went downhill from there.”
Terry looked at Decker curiously. “You know this guy?”
“Hell, man, everybody that works downtown knows him. They call him Chans. Means luck in Creole. Real name is Charles St. Pierre. He does the cans and other trash to make a little money, but as far as I know, no one has ever seen him beg. Still thinks things are gonna get better. That’s why he calls himself Chans. Trying to draw in some luck, I guess.”
Terry nodded. He knew the type. What he didn’t know was why he wound up in virtual protective custody. And he asked Decker as much.
To his surprise, Decker ran his hand over the back of his neck and looked as if he’d rather be somewhere else. When he answered, it was like he really didn’t want to be heard.
“He’s an old guy. Been here most of his life but not all of it, like I said. He grew up for the most part in Haiti. Along with all the shit they grow up with down there.”
Now, Terry looked confused.
Decker suddenly found himself tired of trying to soften what even he didn’t understand, so he just came out with it.
“He says he saw the guy coming around the corner from the street where she was found. Says the guy wasn’t in a hurry, just kind of shuffling along. He was sitting behind a dumpster resting before he finished his rounds. The guy walked right past not fifteen feet from him. His eyes aren’t too good, but he says he’ll never forget this guy’s face.”
Seeing no change in Terry’s expression, he finally gave up and came right out with it.
“He says he’ll never forget what the guy looked like. Bad eyes or no, he says he saw enough to recognize him anyplace. He says he was a zombie.”
Terry looked at Decker as if he was kidding. This had to be a joke. But the look in Decker’s eyes was as serious as everything else about this. Terry stifled a laugh and took a deep breath.
“You’re serious? You actually believe he saw a zombie.”
Decker shook his head. “No, but he does. I know he’s old and tired and probably drinks more than his share of rotgut and, Lord knows with all the shit that’s happened to him, he’s got more than enough reason to be crazy. The problem is he’s not. Everything he told us about the scene checked out. He apparently went up to the car and found her first. One of the reasons he didn’t want to come forward was that he figured if he knew too much, we’d figure he had something to do with it.”
“And the reason you don’t is?”
Decker smiled, even laughed a little as he answered. “Simple logic. This shit happens at night. Usually late at night or early in the morning. Most nights, he spends in a shelter somewhere. And like I said, everybody knows Chans. Broke he might be, but honest he is. And he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Besides, with his arthritis, I doubt he could hold a knife, let alone make the kind of cuts we found on the victims.”
Terry knew nothing about this Chans, but he was beginning to learn a little about Decker. He wasn’t just a security chief. This was his home. He knew these people. He was almost afraid to ask if he had actually known any of the victims, but he knew it wouldn’t matter. Either way, he was taking this personally.
Terry went for his wallet, but Decker waved him off. “My tab needs the exercise. Besides, we get this fucker and I’ll buy you dinner at Cirroco’s.”
Terry had no idea what that was, but it sounded expensive. The two of them nearly ran to Terry’s car. At the last minute, Terry pulled up short, handing the keys to Decker.
“Here. You know where we’re going.”
Decker looked at the key then the car. He shook his head as if to say how the hell do I drive this little bastard, but he crammed himself in behind the wheel, and with a little wriggling and a lot of adjusting and cussing, he managed to get under the wheel. Getting out would be another matter.
Terry had another reason. Since he had given Charlie the shot at the computer, he hadn’t heard a peep out of him. It wasn’t unexpected. That kind of thing could take a lot out of him.
Suddenly, Terry felt like laughing out loud. Here, he was having an issue with an old man who says he saw a zombie, and he was walking around with an alien in his head. And his girlfriend…
Terry stopped abruptly. It was the first time he had heard himself call Traci that. For a moment, he wanted to call her, but he knew it was
n’t time yet. He had to let it go. At least for the moment.
As he slid into the passenger’s seat, he mentally called Charlie. He was rewarded a second later, as Charlie answered, sounding chipper if somewhat let down.
“I’m here, Terry. And feeling more like myself. Pity. I think I was beginning to enjoy the gruffness.”
Terry didn’t want to tell him that he felt the same thing. He had always felt Charlie was a little on the stuffy side. It could be a good thing as long as he could keep it under control.
“Anything new in the stuff you got out of that computer?”
He could feel Charlie’s ambiguity over his answer. “No, not really. This is a case of them not lying to you. If anything, I would say this, more than anything, means they are even more afraid than they are willing to admit.”
“Translation, if they are that scared, it’s even worse than we thought.”
“Exactly.”
“Anything about this guy Chans?”
“There was no mention of him in the files of any of the cases.”
“Think you can do your lie detector thing on this guy?” Terry could feel Charlie tense.
“That is not science. That is simply an opinion. It might be good in most cases, but I would not care to stake the final opinion of a man on it. There are just too many variables, especially on a man that has lived a life as rough as the one this man has. His fields could be skewed all but beyond recognition.”
Terry smiled, careful to keep facing away from Decker to keep him from seeing the grin. He needn’t have bothered. Decker was concentrating way too hard on driving at a speed many would have considered foolish. Add the intricacies of doing it in an over grown go-kart with a windshield and Terry could have been singing Dolce Mia and not get a second look.
Satisfied he was safe, he told Charlie. “You may not think that it’s a science, but I put more faith in one of your guesses than most anybody else’s research. You do what you can. I’ll take it from there.”
Charlie said nothing, but Terry could feel his appreciation. One of the few emotions Charlie’s people hadn’t denied a million years ago.
Chapter Twenty-One
The mayor had, if nothing else, great taste in love nests. This one was complete with a fountain in the room and its own sauna. Whatever he did there, he did it in style.
Decker led Terry up the back way. He had his own key card, apparently in case there was a need like their present case, or possibly if the mayor, or whoever used the room, needed his help with something. Terry preferred not to elaborate on what that something might be.
Inside the room, Terry was shocked to see the reason for their visit sitting stiffly in a wingback chair. It was easy to see it was him. He wasn’t dirty or even unkempt, but there was no way he would be mistaken for a normal occupant of this hotel.
His clothes were threadbare and rough dried and faded from far too many washings, while his shoes looked as if they had been used at the turn of the century. Still, he looked like he still had enough pride to care about what he looked like.
At least he looked as if he did normally. At the moment, he looked as if he was about to bolt out the door and run like hell. Whatever he thought he saw, it had definitely rattled him. He looked up when the two men entered the room, recognition flitting across his face as he saw Decker. Whatever else might be happening, at least the guy had seen a familiar face.
Then, he turned his gaze onto Terry. It wasn’t hard to see that, at the moment, new people weren’t on his list of favorite things. His eyes widened and his breath quickened. Thanks to Charlie, Terry knew his heart rate had gone up as well. Terry hoped for a moment that he had a Chrliti inhabiting him. It could make things a whole lot easier.
Waiting patiently, he was quickly made aware that the later was not a possibility as Charlie informed him that he could sense nothing from him other than humanity.
Terry sighed. It could have been so much faster if the guy was one of the occupied, but then, that would have made things way too easy.
Decker, meanwhile, was already working to calm Chans down, stepping up to him, quickly extending his hand, a smile spreading across his face. “Chans, you looking good, man.”
As the man stood, his quick movements surprised Terry as he almost jumped up and shook Decker’s hand vigorously. Apparently, he hadn’t cared much for his original companion.
His voice was like the rest of him, well worn and rough but edged with a civility that belied his station in life.
“Thanks, Mr. Decker. They sent me up here and told me you were coming. I didn’t want to, but they told me I had to do the right thing. I woulda come in sooner, but…”
His voice trailed off then came back with a vengeance.
“I hada come in! I saw that thing! I know what it was! You gotta stop it, Mr. Decker!” As he spoke, he had held onto Decker’s hand.
The big man seemed to be surprised by his strength.
Chans wasn’t done yet, however, as he launched into a barrage about what he had seen. Even Charlie took note as he could feel the man’s bio-fields fluctuate. It was easy to see this Chans was trying to keep it together, but the strain was evident.
“That thing was something out of hell, and it looked like it was heading back. I know everybody thinks I’m crazy, but I’m telling the truth! That thing was a freakin’ zombie!”
As he spoke, the man behind him, Clyde Rich, the one that had brought Chans to the penthouse, had stepped behind the bar and poured a drink, in anticipation of a need he could sense coming.
Decker nodded toward Chans to tell the man to hand him the drink he had poured. What it was didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was tall and heavily alcoholic.
Chans accepted it gratefully. He wasn’t a drunk, but he did drink moderately heavy. Enough that the drink had a pronounced effect on his composure. He was a lot calmer as he started to relate the story for the first time in its entirety.
Having drained the drink, he sat up a little straighter as if to add credence to his tale. He knew it would be hard to believe under the best of circumstances, so he wanted to be sure there was no variance in this story and the one he had told at the police station.
“You gotta know, I know what it sounds like when I say I saw a zombie. I know you all think it’s just an old man who done had a couple too many. Truth is back home, the stories about zombies are like folklore. Like Bigfoot or a Yeti. This thing wasn’t big, but he had the look.”
Decker and Terry looked at each other quizzically.
“What look?” Terry asked finally. It was the first time he had spoken, and Chans’ reaction was composed if guarded. Still, he had come in with Decker, so that was a point in his favor. Besides, having started, Chans was loath to stop.
Terry mentally checked with Charlie who signaled he could detect no change in Chans’ bioelectric fields. As far as it went, it was a good sign.
Decker, though, wasn’t privy to Charlie’s opinion. All he knew was that the story sounded as fantastic as any he had ever heard. And the worst part was that since he trusted Chans, it was believable.
Chans, meanwhile, had realized he was slipping into his island voice. Unknown to Decker, he used it to con tourists out of a little spare change occasionally. No harm. After all, it was real. He just didn’t want to let it out now for fear they would think this was an act. He decided to go with the facts any way they came out.
“I had just found this dumpster, see? It was full of cans! Looked like one of the night shift had decided waiting on the recycle bin to come back was too much, so they just tossed all of them in with the trash. I thought I hit a gold mine! There was at least a dozen bags of them. Just in the first dumpster! The other two were just as full as far as I could tell, and I figured I could get enough for a couple of nights of happy out of the deal if nothing else.”
He sat back then and looked around, almost hopefully.
Decker looked at him and smiled, reaching into his pocket to pull out a
pack of some generic cigarettes.
Terry had no idea where he got them from, but from the look of the pack, he had had them for some time. Probably kept them around for situations like this or something.
Gratefully, Chans took one of the cigarettes and lit it with a lighter he produced from a pocket without a word. After a long pull on it, he went on, still as excited as ever.
“I had moved one dumpster’s worth and sifted through it for the cans and anything else I could find. Wasn’t much else, but it was still good just for the cans. Anyway, after a while, I sat down to catch my breath. Dumb luck put me in the shadow when he came around the corner. He wasn’t rushing or nothing, just seemed to be walking like he didn’t have a care in the world. That was when I saw his eyes.”
Decker frowned as he asked pointedly, “What about his eyes?”
Terry split his attention between both men and Charlie, who was still trying to interpret what Chans was telling them via his bioelectric fields. The bottom line was that there was nothing different about him. Whatever was going on, as far as Chans was concerned, it was true, at least as far as he knew.
Chans simply started talking again without missing a beat. “His eyes, man! They were empty and black! Like a fish! Or a shark! Nothing in them was alive. He was moving, he was even breathing! I could see it! But he was not in there! It was just a body! It was a zombie!”
He was trying to make them see what he had seen. There was really no way to do it, but he tried anyway. “The thing was walking the same way the ones I had seen when I was a boy. Same shuffling—”
Terry cut in on him now, curiosity forcing him to ask, “Wait, you’ve seen these things before?”
Chans gave a snort and looked at him as if he wanted to say one thing then thought better of it. Instead, he quipped, “Where I am from, the stories of them are as common as the ones about Bigfoot or UFOs are here. And more people see them whenever they come out. We seen them for centuries. We even know who they were sometimes. But the Houngan that made them, their creator? He the real danger. The thing I saw was just a tool. A slave. It follows the commands of its master like a dog. It killed her and probably others too. If not this one, then others like him. You have to stop this one, yes. But if you want to stop this...all of this...you must find the Houngan!”
The Primal Connection Page 16
