The Serpent and the Light

by Bo Luellen

  Reaching back, she flipped a switch on the odd machine and the roaring sounds of the vacuum sucking sound rang out in the room as human fluids spilled into the reservoir. Larry made a gagging sound, which made Johnston almost throw up.

  Willow nonchalantly flipped a switch that caused the machine to pulse fluid into the body and replied, “I was getting coffee, and saw them walk in from the back door. I barely got out of sight and hid in one of the hearses. I stayed wedge in the back end next to a casket until I saw the police going through the building.”

  She worked the trocar back and forth in the abdomen, eliciting small verbalizations of disgust from Johnston and Larry. The woman was expertly finding the major organs and puncturing them with the sharp tip of the instrument. With each new organ she pierced, a small wave of new fluids would splash into the transparent tank.

  Over the sounds of the suctioning, Utterson inquired, “So, you sat back there and, according to the report, could only make out vague outlines of what was going on. I guess it was lucky you got a look at the knife. You can’t even tell me what they look like?”

  Hitting a new pocket of liquid, she replied, “Just like I said before, I couldn’t make out anything in detail. Those men were armed, wearing ski masks, and got in here without a problem. It’s a fact that they got in here with little or no effort, and that you seem clueless on how to stop them from doing it again. I do have a theory about their plans.”

  Utterson perked up in his chair and remarked, “Really, tell me?”

  She torqued the silver rod in her hand, replying, “Detective, I believe that if I was to remember something, these very capable burglars and mutilators of corpses might have a reason to return to do something about it.”

  Dr. Lanyon walked to Utterson’s side and observed sternly, “This case is going to hit the papers by the end of the year, if not sooner. Every reporter looking to capitalize on this story will be following up on every lead. Eventually, someone will come to your door, and whether or not you give them information, they will print your name. Your theory should include further parameters, such as what if these capable burglars find out you exist. What you should be worried about is, what if you wait until the police have no reason to protect you, and your name and address are plastered all over the internet.”

  John suppressed a smile, Well played, Professor.

  The embalmer froze in place at Amanda’s speech, and then blurted out, “Bitch.”

  Larry gave a scolding, “Hey, language death lady!”

  Utterson rolled his wheelchair towards the door leading out into the hallway and ordered, “Shows over, Willow. Take us to Lewis Turner.”

  Willow dropped the trocar down on the table and whipped off her plastic gloves, as Terry and Larry scooted away from her. A few minutes later, Turner’s body was sliding out from its resting place in the cooler. The mortician took the black cover off the body to reveal the nude, pink skin. A wax head replaced the man’s real one and looked amazingly similar to that of the original owner.

  Utterson grabbed the side of the freezer and stood up to get a better look at the body. It was an agonizing process, and he almost fell back down into his chair. Johnston’s massive hand snatched him under his arm and gently pushed him back up.

  Dr. Lanyon went around to the other side and asked, “Where did they cut the body?”

  Willow pulled back a section of the covering and pointed at a mark just over the heart, saying, “They stabbed into it twice, both in the same area.”

  The professor stepped up on a chair for a closer look and observed, “Both are horizontal cuts.”

  Utterson took the weight off his bad leg and replied, “It also meant they were trying to avoid the ribcage. This wasn’t a random cut or done out of some feeling of vengeance. This was a deliberate, calculated, and well-scouted act.”

  Johnston rubbed his chin and added, “Definitely not the work of some homeless people. These were well-provisioned professionals. I wonder what their goal was? To cut out the man’s heart?”

  Young stepped away from the table and offered, “Very doubtful. You would need major tools to get through the ribs, and these guys didn’t talk like...”

  She stopped abruptly, causing Johnston to ask, “How the hell would you know? You said you were snuggled up next to a casket in the back of that hearse and couldn’t hear anything coherent.”

  Utterson grabbed the end of the drawer and slammed Lewis Turner’s body back into the freezer. The sound caused Young to jump back, as Dr. Lanyon scooted backward. The detective took an agonizing step forward on his bad leg towards the mortician as Johnston held him up.

  John calmly told her, “People are dying and disappearing left and right, Ms. Young. I’ve got an idea. How about we have Officer Johnston take you into custody, and then I drop a call to a few news stations. That way, you can have a chance to use that pistol you’ve got tucked away. That is, if you see them coming at all.”

  Johnston pulled out a pair of handcuffs as she held up a hand and pleaded, “Okay, wait. When I was in the back of the hearse, I pulled out my cell phone and recorded the two. You can barely make out what they are doing, but you can hear some of what they are saying.”

  Larry gave a chuckle as he asked Johnston, “Based solely on my experience watching Murder She Wrote, I think that’s Obstruction of Justice?”

  Johnston crossed his arms and replied, “Damn right, it is.”

  The detective held out his hand and ordered, “Show us the video, and I’ll consider not putting you in handcuffs.”

  Young punched some buttons on her phone and then handed it to Utterson. Utterson put on his glasses and then played a darkened video so that his team could see it. The shaky camera footage showed two men sliding the Lewis Turner’s body out of the freezer. Larry grunted in empathetically in pain as the taller of the two drove a black-handled knife into the corpse of the deli owner. The audio played back the conversation between the two men in almost perfect clarity.

  After listening to the exchange, Utterson announced, “That confirms it. This is cult-related.”

  Dr. Lanyon paced to the side and observed, “It says way more than that. They are referencing other people, and whoever was on the other end of the line caused them to abort. That suggested a larger plot with a ladder of authority. I need to analyze this recording.”

  Utterson handed the phone to Dr. Lanyon and then stated, “Thank you, Ms. Young. This is now evidence, and you are under arrest for making a false statement and spoliation of evidence. Officer Johnston, relieve her of her weapon and take her into custody.”

  She stomped her foot in defiance and yelled, “Hey, assholes! You asked for my help and promised to help me! Now, you’re arresting me!”

  Terry took away her Glock and ordered, “Turn around and place your hands on top of your head. Do you have any other weapons on you?”

  She let out a petulant sigh and replied, “No!”

  As Johnston read her Miranda rights, Dr. Lanyon cycled through the phone’s video, looking for something specific. Young was pulled out of the room, as Johnston called for a squad car. Larry helped Utterson find his way back to his chair as the professor pulled up a seat next to him.

  She manipulated the time index on the recording as she asked, “Are you in a lot of pain?”

  He winced and replied, “I’m fine.”

  She placed the phone in front of his face and remarked, “Well, I think this might make you feel better.”

  The video was frozen at the moment the dagger was sticking out of Turner’s body. Lanyon had zoomed in on the hilt of the blade, and a pixelated outline of the symbol of Cthulhu looked back at John. He smiled and took a screenshot of it, then had it sent to his phone.

  She leaned back and shared his grin stating, “If your Captain needed solid evidence, it doesn’t get more concrete than this.”

  He got situated in his chair and replied, “It proves that this was no lone homeless man, mugging some random stranger on a brid
ge. The dagger they are using might not be the exact same one, but it validates my report. Now I have what we need to get a bigger task force and maybe even an FBI presence.”

  Larry followed Utterson outside in time to see Johnston place the handcuffed woman into a squad car. Johnston gave some instructions to the patrolman, and soon it was leaving the parking lot, on its way to downtown Tulsa. He heard Lanyon tell her husband that this mysterious extra consultant, Josh Dyer, wasn’t picking up her phone calls.

  Larry walked over to Utterson and scolded, “I’m a little worried that you just sent a woman to jail after you asked her to trust us. I mean, it seems a little heartless.”

  He thought, This man is a weakness on the team, and I need to cut him out of our group as soon as possible.

  Utterson took out his phone and responded, “What the average law-abiding citizen with a social justice cause doesn’t understand is that people like Willow Young expect people like you to behave and act within the rules. That way, when they break the law, they know the law, the general public, and the court system have to catch them by those same rules, while they don’t. I’ve seen murderers get out of jail because they found a bleeding heart to plead their case, only to see each one of those perps hurt more people. Mr. Lanyon, I’m not required to tell the truth, only to uphold the law.”

  The detective pulled a file out from his chair, pulled out a picture of a teenage girl, and revealed, “This is Mr. Turner’s daughter, Riley. She doesn’t have a father anymore, and she can’t start healing because no one knows exactly why her dad was killed. With every update, I have to get on the phone and update Riley’s mother with the new evidence I found. She is afraid to bring her daughter into Tulsa, and rightfully so. If this cult is mixed up with the homeless disappearances, then we are dealing with a group of serial killers. So, when someone like Willow Young gets between me and putting those nuts behind bars, I do whatever it takes to move them. Are we clear, Mr. Lanyon?”

  Larry’s face had a look of resignation as he answered, “Very, clear. I hope whatever hardened your heart lets up.”

  He looked him in the eyes and remarked, “Doubtful. Soft people like you need me the way I am to keep your family safe.”

  The large man wrinkled his brow and exclaimed, “Fuck you! I don’t need some self-righteous…”

  Dr. Lanyon moved in between and interjected, “Detective, is this really the most productive way to manage your team?”

  He leaned back in his chair and took a breath saying, “Look, I’m going to drop the charges once I have the men responsible in custody. She has a right to be afraid, and the safest place for her is in jail. Also, she is excellent bait. If these people come for her, we’ll stop them and then have a suspect in custody. She’ll probably get a book deal out of the whole thing once this hits the press.”

  Officer Johnston cut into the conversation and told Larry, “John’s a complete dick, but he is right. Having Ms. Young in custody is the best thing for her. If this thing is as big as we suspect, we need to play this hard and fast. With any luck, we can have her back to stabbing dead people with Dust Busters in no time.”

  Utterson appreciated him backing his play and thought, This is going to get messy no matter what we do. If we are granted more resources, I could have a real shot at catching these people. If this case gets turned over to the FBI, I have to position myself as a valuable asset. Whoever the homeless guy was that got my ankle and ribs broke is going down, and I’m going to be the person who does it.

  His phone vibrated, and he answered, saying, “This is Detective Utterson.”

  Captain Andino replied with his thick Spanish accent, “Get over to Henry Jekyll’s residence immediately.”

  Utterson flipped on his speakerphone and replied, “Understood, Captain. What’s happened?”

  “An anonymous tip came in on our 911 line last night, stating they had heard shots outside Jekyll’s apartment building. Units showed up and found the body of one Mitch Langshire inside his vehicle, with a bullet hole in his head.”

  The professor leaned in, “Sir, this is Dr. Lanyon. What does this have to do with Jekyll? This could just be a robbery or a drug deal gone bad.”

  “A neighbor finally came forward this morning. The witness stated he saw four men in tactical gear execute the driver and then subdue another man. That second man fits the description of Henry Jekyll. This morning Cobb and Michaels put it all together. I’ve called a judge to get a warrant for entrance into the Jekyll premises, but I’m still waiting to hear back. No one is moving until you get there to take the lead on this, John. It looks like you were right. It’s nice to see you back on your game. Good work, Detective.”

  In less than a minute, Johnston had managed to get Utterson shoved into the passenger side of his car and threw the wheelchair in their back seat. With the Lanyons following behind them, Johnston put on his lights and sped towards Tulsa.

  On their way, he got a call from Detective Michaels, who reported, “John, we’ve quietly removed all the residence of the complex and have a one-block perimeter established. SWAT is en route. The judge approved the warrant. We are waiting for you.”

  Within fifteen minutes, they were parked down the street from the apartments. Two squad cars were parked in the road, with the SWAT tactical van positioned right outside Henry’s front door. An old Italian couple was talking to a news crew that had just arrived.

  Utterson worked his way out of the car and into his chair. He watched Terry pop the trunk to their vehicle and open an equipment bag. Utterson peered along the street at the Lanyons, who were standing behind their van.

  Officer Johnston took out a vest and sawed-off pump shotgun from the trunk and told Utterson, “I’ll let you know when it is all clear. Then I’ll call for a sky crane to get your crippled ass up to the apartment.”

  Utterson stood up and placed the crutches under his arms, then gave a labored, “Don’t let them shoot my suspect, Terry.”

  The black man racked his shotgun and answered, “I think what you meant to say was, “Be safe, Terry, don’t get shot, and I’m a terrible person.”

  The detective grabbed the corner of Terry’s vest and confessed, “Your brother was the only person on the force I trusted. Every day I dive into something that can make me forget what I did, but it never helps. I would give anything to go back to that day and make things right, but I can’t. I want you to know that I trust you.”

  He patted Utterson on the arm and replied, “Let’s get this guy, and then let’s have a talk.”

  Utterson choked back some unexpected tears and, for the first time in four years, realized he had never openly talked about David’s death. He turned his back to compose himself as Johnston joined the SWAT Team. Five minutes later, the entry team had worked their way up the stairs, as the detective listened in on his radio. Right before the breach, Johnston identified himself and announced they had a warrant. Two seconds later, he listened to the ram hit the door and then the shouts of the officers.

  Utterson heard Terry’s voice on the radio, “We have entry. Clearing the house now. No sign of the suspect. I’ll let you know when you can come up with the doctor.”

  With that, he waved the Lanyons over to his position. The pair jogged over towards him and took cover behind Johnston’s cruiser. He was moving slowly, and his ribs were on fire, but he didn’t care. He was determined to get inside that apartment and find more evidence that would lead him to the yellow t-shirt suspect.

  Dr. Lanyon looked at him with concern saying, “Detective, you look like hell.”

  John didn’t appreciate the observation and repeated, “I’m fine. They’re inside now and clearing the place. We will be inside in a few minutes.”

  Johnston broke in with an excited tone saying, “Jesus, John! You’re not going to fucking believe this.”

  Utterson pulled the radio up to his face and asked, “What do you have?”

  After a brief pause, Johnston came back with, “We have a human head
in the refrigerator that matches the one Lewis Turner lost.”

  Dr. Lanyon let out an audible gasp as Utterson replied, “Seal off the area, and we can…”

  A thunderous boom erupted from the upstairs apartment, and a shockwave blasted out from the second floor. The windows to Jekyll’s home exploded outwards, showering the street below with thousands of tiny particles of broken glass. The sound caused Larry to buckle backward and Dr. Lanyon brought her briefcase up to shield her face. The walls around the apartment cracked, and car alarms were going off for several blocks.

  In a flash of instinct, Utterson attempted to draw his weapon and turn but lost his balance. He hit the ground hard on his good side and heard nothing but a high pitched ring in his ears. He looked up at the sky to see it was filled with dark smoke billowing out of Jekyll’s apartment. As he rolled over in an attempt to get on his feet, he saw Larry go streaking past him.

  He coughed and then yelled out, “Stop! Wait! Don’t go in there!”

  The larger man either didn’t listen or couldn’t hear him. With the agility and speed of a man half his age and weight, he jumped over some debris and barreled right into the smoke-filled stairwell. Dr. Lanyon staggered into the street, as Utterson observed her soundlessly scream at her husband.

  Utterson pushed the button on his radio, yelling for fire and rescue. Still, he had no way of hearing dispatches reply. The pain in his head was agonizing and felt like the worst migraine headache he had ever experienced. The detective managed to work his way to his knees and saw flames shooting out of the broken windows of the apartment.

  He limped his over and intercepted the professor as she attempted to run in after husband. She was so strong that it took everything Utterson had to keep her in place. The professor rotated and turned in his hand, breaking his grasp repeatedly, as he heard her muffled screams of anguish. The struggle brought them to the ground, where Utterson latched hold of her belt and hung on with everything he had left. Finally, an Officer that was positioned outside had recovered and helped him out.