Elysium Dreams

by Hadena James

the voice and the snapping sound.

  “Well, here’s a bombshell for you, the blood on the dog belongs to the reporter. It’s the cameraman’s dog though. The cameraman was dead and his camera smashed, but Michael is in the process of salvaging anything he can from it. We think he went to the cameraman’s house and found the reporter so he took advantage of the situation. Unfortunately, we haven’t turned up your boot knife nor the attacker. Which means he either died or found medical attention somewhere else. Xavier thinks this is proof that he has medical training,” Gabriel said.

  “That explains why he didn’t pull out the knife,” I said.

  “What?” Gabriel asked.

  “He didn’t pull out my knife. He ran away with it in his shoulder. Most people instinctively pull them out. He didn’t,” I said.

  “We are searching through databases looking for people with military and medical training who currently work in law enforcement,” Gabriel said.

  “And why did he come back?” I asked.

  “We don’t know yet. I have autopsies to do and you two need your rest. Sheriff Rybolt is going to help with guarding your room. You seem to have made an impression on him,” Xavier gave me a quick flash of a smile and left.

  “We have about two hundred photos of the house and another hundred of the crime scene for you to look through,” Gabriel handed me an iPad. “Michael loaded them on there for the two of you. Look over them, I’m going to go help Xavier.”

  “He left something,” Lucas finally said after Gabriel left.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what he left, but when he was riding me to the ground, he had something in his hand. I think he came back to get it,” Lucas shrugged. “That’s about all I remember.”

  “He held nothing but his knife when he attacked me.”

  “Why’d he come back and attack you? He’d gotten away at that point.”

  “Need to dominate. You and Gabriel made the distinction earlier that I was sort of his type.”

  “That wouldn’t make me come back. I’d wait and fight that battle another day. Killing you right that second wouldn’t have been very satisfying.”

  “I know.” I closed my eyes as the nurse came in with a Demerol drip. The local hadn’t worn off yet.

  She hooked me up to it. I sat with my eyes closed until after I felt her leave the room.

  “Because we are getting close and it was a good opportunity to kidnap me. He stabbed me with the syringe first. He wasn’t trying to kill me. I brought the fight and my survival instincts overcame the medication. That’s why he stayed for me. I was supposed to be hanging from a tree right now. Not lying in a hospital bed. We are getting close. If I hadn’t done the damage I did, I imagine he’d be ramping up his timetable.”

  “Killing the ones that he has to kill before he gets caught,” Lucas said.

  “Yep.”

  “Good thing you stabbed him.”

  “Yep.”

  “Pity he got away.”

  “Shit happens,” I felt the Demerol enter my body. I didn’t fight. I let it flow into me and relax into sleep.

  Twenty

  I didn’t torture the nurses or tell them my thoughts on the fact that they didn’t let me sleep through the night. The bed had been more comfortable than my cot in the jail, but I had slept better in the jail. Now it was morning and Michael was booting up a computer and a projection screen. The nurses had been warned not to interrupt for a while.

  The screen flickered just once as the video began. It was dark, but the clearing was bathed in an ominous glow. There were three halogen lights, on poles, set up in the snow, pointing towards the victim.

  They bathed the victim in an eerie and surreal light. Making her seem even more horrifically posed. Her lack of movement and skin showed that she was already dead. Our killer was standing with his back to us. He had a cigar in one gloved hand. A mask covered his head, covering his hair and skin. At his thigh was what appeared to be a large filet knife. Xavier took a deep breath, loud enough for us all to hear.

  The killer walked over to a large duffle bag on the ground. Out came a large bottle of Pine-Sol. He used a remote and the winch began to lower the victim. Her head was only a few inches from the ground when he stopped it. He flicked ash onto the ground and stared at the spot below her head.

  He went back to his bag and pulled out something that looked like a tarp but crinkled like plastic. He set it on the ground under the victim, covering the cigar ash. He stood up and began pouring the Pine-Sol on the victim. It ran down from her feet, coating her body in the oily, smelly stuff. He stood for another several minutes and finished his cigar.

  He stubbed it out on his Pine-Sol soaked glove and put it in his pocket. He checked the area and picked up any ash that had fallen. Then he rolled the black thing up carefully. The winch motor began again. It whirred and hummed as it pulled the victim to his desired height. She now towered over him.

  The body in place, he went to the spike in the ground and tied the cable up. Once tied, he cut it. He walked to his winch and wrestled it from the hard, frozen ground. Something popped on the tape. He looked up, noticed something, tossed the winch onto the black thing, picked them both up and left. There was no motion for several minutes.

  Then the reporter came into frame. She picked up the halogen lights. I nearly yelled at the TV.

  “That’s what he was getting,” Lucas said.

  “Damn,” Xavier sighed. Michael shut it off.

  “Is that the guy that attacked you?” Gabriel asked me.

  “Yeah, he looked a little stockier in person, but otherwise, he seemed the same.”

  “And we know what crushed the ash,” Xavier said. “And why he missed it.”

  “He was sloppy this time,” Gabriel said. “What the tape doesn’t show is the reporter covering up the spots where the lights had stood. They wouldn’t have left much of a mark, a small tripod of holes, but she walked over them when she pulled up the lights and they aren’t mentioned in any of the other reports, except once. I went back and checked, the Sheriff reported them at one scene, but when he asked they be photographed, they were gone. I called and he said he thought someone on scene had done it deliberately.”

  “Much sloppier. Did the body have any differences?” Lucas asked.

  “A few, not many,” Xavier said.

  “Maybe Agent Gentry put up more of a fight than he expected,” I suggested.

  “That is a good possibility,” Gabriel said. “She was well trained. Should have been given a medal, not a post in Alaska. But the higher ups decided to send her here to get her out of the limelight.”

  “Everyone has a story,” I said, feeling a moment of nostalgia. She had been curious about ours. I hadn’t thought to ask about hers.

  “The knife mean anything?” Michael asked.

  “Not really, it’s pretty common except the handle, but I’d need to see it up close and personal to get any details off of it,” Gabriel said.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I hunt and fish,” Gabriel answered. “It’s a specialty knife, but you can order them from anywhere with a credit card.”

  “We came up with a few hits on the background search. Agent Arons among them,” Michael said.

  “He has hazel eyes. I was looking at dark brown. They were a rich, deep brown, not hazel,” I dismissed the suggestion.

  “Dr. Ericson was in the military and is a doctor and smokes cigars,” Michael said.

  “His eyes are blue,” I answered in unison with Xavier.

  “There’s a state trooper that fits the description and smokes cigars. His name is Henry Small,” Michael suggested.

  “What color are his eyes?” I asked.

  “Brown,” Michael said.

  “Let’s go pay him a visit,” I got out of the bed, yanking off wires and pulling out IVs. I was dressed by the time the nurses arr
ived. “I’m checking out.”

  “Uh, Marshal Cain, we can’t...” A nurse stammered at me.

  “Bring me the forms, I’ll waive all your liability,” I said as I helped Lucas find his pants. The other Marshals were trying not to laugh. I wasn’t sure if it was at me or the nurses.

  “As an added bonus, he is the one that had you arrested,” Michael said as Lucas pulled his jeans on.

  “Most excellent,” I narrowed my eyes at them. The thought of revenge was a beautiful thing.

  An hour later, we were parked down the road from Henry Small’s house. We had seen him enter a few minutes earlier. Gabriel was handing out directions. I was practically bouncing in my seat.

  It was time to catch our serial killer. I was waiting for the adrenaline surge that would bring on the calm. Or bring on the darkness, if it seemed my life was in mortal peril. I had begun to distinguish between the two. The calm was a place of functional disconnect. The darkness was a place of complete disconnect. I equated it with what Malachi felt every day. The only emotion was rage.

  We spilled from the car, guns drawn. We crouched and ran towards the house. Under the Serial Crimes law, we did not have to knock or even announce ourselves. I stood on the porch with Gabriel. Michael, Lucas and Xavier were taking the other points of the house.

  However, the man inside was law enforcement and had a gun. I hit the door once with my fist. It vibrated under the force.

  “US Marshals!” I shouted through the closed door. Someone inside screamed. Someone else shouted. Gabriel hit the door with his foot.

  I snaked inside, half crouched, gun moving