Deadly Deception

by Cade Brogan

  “Oh my God,” Addison yelped, her eyes enlarging.

  Elizabeth felt giddy, watching the lancet deliver its poison.

  “What’d you do?” Addison sputtered, trying unsuccessfully to remove the dart. “Oh my God, I’m dying.”

  Elizabeth moved closer. “No, not yet, you aren’t. Your pain will be excruciating, but I promise you that death won’t visit you for hours.” She retrieved a syringe from her pocket. “But this will finish the job.” A thin smile eclipsed her mouth. “In a few minutes, you’ll beg me for it.” She tilted her head, lifting her eyebrows. “But how quickly I put you out of your misery will depend on the chat we’re about to have.” She chuckled. “And trust me, you killed my beloved grandmother, so I don’t mind watching you suffer.”

  “Didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Sure you did,” Elizabeth responded. “With your nasty little virus.” She curled her upper lip. “Using it like a weapon on the elderly. Disgusting. Don’t lie. I saw you on the boards.”

  “No,” Addison gasped, spitting up blood, “I didn’t kill anyone.” Her nostrils flared and she began to tremble. “What you saw must have been related to my pneumococcal work.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “I didn’t do this.”

  “Then how did you know the virus had mutated?”

  “Because it mutated years ago, before my accident. You have to believe me.”

  “No, I don’t,” Elizabeth responded, sitting down, and leaning back. “Suffer as long as you want.” She twirled the syringe on the table. “You’ll let me know you’re ready for relief by your honesty. I need to understand why you did what you did. I don’t know why, but I do. I think it was money, but I need you to tell me. And, when you do, I’ll inject you with this fast-acting poison, and put you out of your misery.”

  “Didn’t do it,” Addison said, her eyes glassy, lost in her moans. “Someone else,” she choked. “Don’t—kill—me.”

  “Sorry, but that’s a given,” Elizabeth responded, glancing at her watch, knowing that the clock wouldn’t start ticking until the moment she died. She retrieved a crossword puzzle book and a pen from her pocket. “Got all the time in the world,” she said. “You let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

  “Money,” Addison moaned, gurgling, and gulping blood. “It was money.” She gasped. “I did it for money.”

  Elizabeth picked up the syringe, uncapped the needle, and punctured her vein. “There you go. It’ll be about ten-seconds,” she said, retrieving the bramble from her pocket and tucking it into the bouquet of roses. Time of death, nine-ten, she noted, collecting a nail clipping. And with one last look around, she prepared to leave—unable to exit. No keyhole. How does she lock and unlock the door? She looked high and low for a switch or a button, finding none, and glancing at her watch—nine-thirty-five. She rammed the door with her shoulder, crumpling to the floor, fearing that it was dislocated. Ten-twenty. There’s not going to be enough time. And with that, she sat down to write. As she penned her last sentence, she remembered Addison touching her watch after the door closed. She went to her, randomly pushing buttons on both sides of the device, listening for the door to unlock. Nothing. She checked her watch again—ten-fifty-five. And as an afterthought, she turned off her phone jammer.

  CLICK.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Rylee rolled quiet, approaching the mobile BSL-4 laboratory. Forty feet long and white, it had the look of a delivery truck. Inside was a space capable of the highest level of bio-safety operations and a conference table. She nodded to the key players, the same ones they’d met earlier that morning, stepping inside. “Got our search warrant,” she announced, holding it up. There’d never been any doubt that the judge would order it. “Now, how in the hell do we get in and out of there without things getting out of control?” Having enough manpower and solid coordination was important, but not enough considering that this was a new and dangerous situation for all of them. “To me, the safest approach would be if we could somehow get as many as we can outside, away from that virus.”

  “Assuming it’s there. I mean, did you get a good look at that place? Would you expect to find a bio-lab in there?”

  “No, but that makes it kind of genius, right?”

  “I’m with Hayes. The safest approach is to get everyone out.”

  “So, let’s brainstorm. How do we do it without tipping them off?”

  “Set off one of their car alarms.”

  “How would they know it was theirs?”

  “Air raid siren.”

  “This time of the morning? They’d think it was a test. We’d be lucky if they’d even notice.”

  “Cut off utilities.”

  “Too dangerous without knowing what’s in process.”

  “That, and they’d just pick up their cell to report the outage.”

  “Delivery,” Rylee said. “I mean, we know where they get their equipment and supplies. We even know what they have on order. So, we check the Internet and come up with a uniform that kind of looks like that company’s. Then, one of us goes to the door, lets on like she had to park a ways off, and says she’s on her own because her partner didn’t show up for work.” She smiled, raising an eyebrow. “And, I’ll bet if she begs for help unloading, all or most will stop what they’re doing, and trot out to help her.”

  “It’s worth a shot.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Let’s try it.”

  “I just Googled,” Claire said. “Plain navy shirt with a logo and M.C.S. above the breast pocket.” She glanced around the room. “Looks like we have a couple to work with.”

  *

  Rylee slipped on her colleague’s shirt, poking an envelope into her breast pocket to cover where the medical equipment company would have their logo. She took a breath, walking toward the shiny structure, and pressing the buzzer.

  “Yes.”

  “Delivery.”

  “From whom?”

  “Mighty Clinical Solutions.”

  “Hold on. Are we expecting a delivery?”

  “Next week,” a woman responded in the background.

  “You sure it’s ours?”

  Rylee held up her copy of their order, expecting that they had video running. “Yep, it’s yours. Got in early.” She checked her watch, explaining her situation. “So, it’d help a lot if you guys could take a break, help me get your order inside.”

  “Hold on…Give us a minute; we’re gonna have to change.”

  “Be right here on the bench,” Rylee said. “Take your time.” She glanced over, catching Claire’s eye, but making no gestures in case they were watching.

  *

  Elizabeth hurried for no particular reason. In terms of the dispatches, she was out of time. But she had an hour to make good on her deal, to take her own life. She fingered the syringe in her pocket, having come prepared to complete the sacrifice. Had she not turned off her gadget, she’d have died in Addison Marsh’s apartment. But now she had time, time to go home, time to die in her own bed. She had time, but it didn’t feel right, having Claire come home to find her.

  Claire would want you to die at home, the Rational One whispered. She’s strong; she’ll handle it.

  I know, Elizabeth choked, but I don’t want her to have to. She started her engine, retrieving the voicemail advising of her grandmother’s death, and deciding to complete her arrangements, emailing and wiring payments. When she got home, she sat down on the bed, holding Claire’s pillow to her chest, and wanting to be with her. She picked up her phone, held it, and laid it back on the nightstand. Snuggles’ tags jingled, coming into the bedroom. When he rested his head on her toes, she didn’t kick him. “You take good care of her when I’m gone. Do you hear me?” she asked. “I think you hear me,” she answered, petting him. She checked the clock—eleven-thirty, forty more minutes. She fingered the syringe, watching the poisonous liquid move in its barrel, uncapping the needle, and recappi
ng it. I didn’t accomplish much in this life, not nearly as much as I was capable of.

  You served God faithfully, the Rational One said. And you dispatched Granny’s killer. That’s a lot.

  But not Kenzie Bigham, Elizabeth responded. She outsmarted me at every turn. But you know what? Right now, I’m not sure it matters.

  It doesn’t.

  Elizabeth wiped a tear, falling silent for a full minute.

  You wish you had more time with Claire.

  Yes, Elizabeth whimpered. Do you think that means I’m a lesbian?

  Yes, the Rational One answered, but I don’t think it matters.

  Me either.

  *

  Like ants on their way to a picnic, ten people filed out of the building.

  Rylee fell in step with her prime suspect, waiting for a buzz in one of her pockets. Left—we found nothing. Right—go ahead and make the arrest. The search was underway as they walked. “So, you’re in charge,” she said. “Wow, I almost never get to meet the big cheese.”

  The woman flashed a hard smile. “Your lucky day, I guess.”

  Rylee smiled back. Well, aren’t you a fine bitch? “Not too much farther,” she added. “Just ahead on your left.”

  “I should hope not,” the woman snapped. “You could have parked closer.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Rylee answered, “if I’d driven around the block a couple of times.” She shrugged, feeling a vibration in her right pocket. And on her next step, she took hold of the Armageddon Killer, clicking handcuffs on her wrists. “Jane Aches-Voss, Detective Rylee Hayes,” she said, flashing her badge. “You’re under arrest for multiple homicides. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand your rights as I’ve recited them? And do you wish to speak with me now?”

  Jane smirked, saying nothing.

  “Watch your head,” Rylee responded, setting her in the back of a squad car. “I’ll catch up with you shortly,” she added, closing the door.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Rylee walked up to Claire. “What’d you guys get?”

  “A friggin’ gold mine,” Claire answered. “Thank God there were a bunch of us because the evidence was everywhere: the virus, tons of spray vaccines, and loads of information on their computers. A couple of ‘em stayed back.” She caught her breath, talking too fast. “But we came in so quick; we had ‘em before they knew we were there.”

  “So, they had the cure then,” Rylee said. “Thank God for miracles.”

  “Yep,” Claire responded. “Looks like this one was all about money. They have stockpiles of that vaccine all over the world. Guess they had it set up, so it could be sprayed by crop dusters.”

  “So, they needed to kill enough people to make it worth their while,” Rylee responded. “Sick.” She curled her upper lip. “Be nice, but I doubt we get any of ‘em to admit.”

  “I’m not sure it matters,” Claire said, her eyes still wide from the bust. “I mean, we found everything,” she went on, “the location of the cave, the original samples, even emails between Aches and this nobody gang called the Tribes Lords.”

  Rylee shook her head, smiling. “Now we know why the hits were in threes.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Tribes means three in Latin,” Rylee explained. “It’s a thing with their organization; they work in threes.” She answered her phone when it rang. “Hayes.”

  Claire furrowed her brow, watching the conversation. “What?” she asked when Rylee pressed end. “You’re white as a sheet.”

  “That was Jones,” Rylee answered, her stomach churning. “The bitch is back.”

  “In Chicago?”

  “Yep, right downtown,” Rylee answered. “It’s weird though; she killed that Marsh woman. What’s the chance of that? That she’d kill a person of interest on one of our cases?”

  Claire’s eyes narrowed. “I thought her thing was biracial chicks.”

  “It is. Was. It’s weird. In fact,” Rylee continued, “the whole thing is weird.” She went on to explain the details: that other detectives had responded, not knowing the case would be connected to their open investigation; that they’d found her signature bramble in a bouquet of roses; and that they’d found two handwritten notes, both having the ring of impending suicide.

  “So, maybe it’s not her,” Claire said. “Maybe it’s a suicidal copycat.”

  “No, it doesn’t sound like it,” Rylee responded. “It’s like something happened, changed her.” Her stomach flipped, landing flat on the pavement. “Like whatever comes next with her won’t be predictable. I mean those notes, they were weird, and I’m not sure what to make of ‘em—but it’s too much to hope that she’s gone off to kill herself. I think it’s more likely she’s saying goodbye to her MO. Jones was gonna scan ‘em for me, probably already in my email.” She swiped the screen on her phone. “Yep, here’s the first one. Read it for yourself.”

  Detective,

  I take my final bow, conceding that you have beaten me fair and square. I’ll trouble you no more.

  J—

  “Yeah, that sounds like a suicide note,” Claire said, returning the phone. “Maybe she’s reached her expiration date.” She chuckled, adding, “Her killer shelf-life is up. Good riddance of bad rubbish if you ask me.”

  “Okay, so read this one,” Rylee said, clicking the second scan, and handing back the phone.

  Oh, Officer,

  As the curtain closes, I know there’s so much I should’ve told you.

  This, most importantly.

  I took it—and I loved it—and I thank you for it.

  Don’t grieve.

  J—

  Claire’s brain screamed, blood thrashing behind her eardrums, as the pieces came together:

  The case number on the counter.

  That contacts can change eye color, green to brown.

  The jet-black hair dyes under the bathroom sink.

  Her roots, not grey, but auburn.

  Height.

  Weight.

  Body build.

  Pathology, Pharmacology, and Medicine.

  Trip after trip to God knows where.

  And their words reverberated through her mind—Oh Officer…You’ll take it, and you’ll like it, and you’ll thank me.

  Rylee stepped closer, touching her back. “Hey, are you okay? You kind of look a little green around the gills.”

  “Oh—God—no,” Claire groaned, holding her stomach, struggling to maintain composure as her mind raced through her options. “I gotta go,” she said. “Sorry. I just gotta go.”

  “Hey, wait,” Rylee said, moving to touch her arm. “Wherever you need to go, I’ll take you.”

  “No,” Claire panted. “You stay. Finish.” She ran to the street, waving her arms frantically, and getting into a cab. “Going to the ER,” she called out. “Then home. Call you later.” She threw a hundred-dollar bill at the cabbie, rattling off her home address, and asking him to fly like there was no tomorrow. “Keep the change.” Then, she jumped out running, running like she’d run track in high school, not caring about the pain. She held her chest, gasping, turning the key. “Elizabeth,” she called out, sprinting for their bedroom, and busting in. “Oh God …no…please baby…come on, now…put that down.”

  “I can’t,” Elizabeth squeaked, “because I made a deal.”

  Claire moved closer, speaking quietly. “A deal with who, baby?”

  Elizabeth sighed, her eyes teeming with tears. “Why did you have to come home?”

  “Because I love you,” Claire choked, inching toward her. “Because I need you.”

  Elizabeth tightened the tourniquet on her arm, tapping on a bulging vein, the needle almost touching her skin. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “for everything.”

  “A deal with who, baby?” Claire asked, desperate to keep her talking. “Who’d
you make a deal with?”

  “God,” Elizabeth sobbed, “and it’s binding. I have no choice but to keep it.”

  Claire crept closer. “Okay, so I’m not sure I understand. Can you tell me a little bit more about the deal?”

  “Please, Claire, don’t come any closer,” Elizabeth said, weeping as she touched the needle to her skin. “Please, my sweet, sweet officer—just leave—knowing that I’m doing what I must do.” She peered into her eyes. “Please, I beg you, don’t make this more difficult than it already is.”

  Think, Claire, think! And with that, Claire sucked in a deep breath, removed her handcuffs from her belt, and opened them. She had one chance, and this was it. “Okay, I give,” she said, locking gazes. “But before you do whatever it is you think you have to do, you’re gonna have sex with me.” Her eyes widened. “And you’re gonna love it.”

  “You read my note,” Elizabeth murmured. “You read it and knew it was me.”

  “Of course,” Claire responded, her stance widening. “But don’t change the subject.”

  “Oh Officer,” Elizabeth responded, her lips parting, “you know I want to, but I can’t.”

  “Excuses,” Claire snarled. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.” She moved closer. “You’re gonna take what I’ve got to give you, and you’re gonna—” She lunged, snapping a handcuff on Elizabeth’s wrist with the speed of a rattlesnake, knocking the syringe from her hand, and dropping her to the rug. “And you’re gonna love it,” she murmured, kissing her with tongue.

  “Careful,” Elizabeth yelped, her eyes widening at the proximity of the needle to Claire’s leg. “Trust me; you don’t want to prick yourself with that.”

  “I do trust you,” Claire said quietly, tossing the syringe away from them. “And now it’s time for you to trust me.”

  “I won’t survive in jail,” Elizabeth choked. “Please, just let me finish what I’ve started.”

  “You’re not going to jail,” Claire said. “Never, baby.” She brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes. “But you are going to the hospital—as my wife.” She kissed her lips. “How does Mrs. Elizabeth Robbins sound?”