by Hadena James
“Before you guys go, want to do a job for me?” He said as he drank coffee. “We have a location on our FBI agent. She’s being held at a cartel stash house.”
“How’d you find that out?” I asked.
“Because criminals can be really, really stupid,” Peter answered. “One of those involved stole Dr. Durant’s cell phone and left it turned on. We were able to find its location and Tallahassee PD says they suspect it’s a stash house.”
“And if we go crash through the door, you don’t have to wait to compile evidence that says she might be there and that it is a stash house. We can go in saying we suspected Durant’s killer was a fledgling serial killer,” Lucas said.
“Pretty much,” West agreed.
“They did remove his head,” I offered.
“And Aislinn would feel better if she got to bust down a door and face someone with a gun.” Xavier added.
“Okay, what the hell,” Gabriel said.
“Thanks, Gabriel.”
After breakfast, we went to the hotel and packed up our stuff. Peter West and his driver followed us. Gabriel put the address into GPS and we all headed out. Peter asked if he should put a SWAT team on stand by and Gabriel had shrugged. We’d done accidental raids of stash houses before. There were usually enough people to guard them, but the guards tended to be lazy thinking no one was dumb enough to try to rip them off.
There were two guys sitting on the porch of the house that needed a lot of work. The yard was a bit overgrown and there were two dogs pacing around inside the fence. Big dogs. Scary looking dogs. We drove past it and parked down a different street about a block away. The backyard had a privacy fence and there didn’t appear to be cameras on it. We doubted there was anyone back there. The guys on the porch had guns, but they were tucked away discreetly, I had only noticed because I’d been looking for them.
Peter West got out of his vehicle and met up with us on the sidewalk. His driver would probably circle the block until he was ready to leave. He had a gun. I had never imagined Peter with a gun, it was odd to see it in his hands. Peter had been a delicate and fragile child, guns and violence gave him nightmares. Seeing him with a gun and knowing he worked for the NSA was disturbing to me, to my memory of him when we were young.
“You should get back in your car and go wait for us to let you know it’s done.” I said to him.
“I’m going to come with you,” Peter said.
“You’re NSA not SCTU, you can’t be there,” Gabriel told him. “If you’re there we lose our ability to go in.”
“I’m on the board of the SCTU,” he said.
“Yes, but that doesn’t give you status as a US Marshal with our teams.” He told him. “This isn’t the wild west and it isn’t like the attack on the FGN, your presence will be hard to explain and hard to conceal.”
“Fine,” Peter holstered his gun and stomped back to the SUV and his driver.
“Good call,” I told our team leader.
“Yeah, the thought of a gun battle with West, doesn’t inspire me with confidence.” Gabriel replied. We began to move up the street. None of us had drawn our guns. We just looked like a weird group of people walking. Well, we might have looked a bit like a gang, I wasn’t sure.
Lucas gave me a boost and using a mirror I peeked into the backyard over the privacy fence. It was empty except for some junk cars and another scary looking dog. I nodded to my team as Lucas brought me back down. The guys stayed by the privacy fence. Fiona and I walked around to the front. I walked up to the gate and called to the guys on the porch.
“Hey, I’m looking for a friend of mine, Abby. I was told she was probably here.” I shouted over the chain-link. One of them stood up and started walking towards us. Neither he nor his friend reached for their guns.
“I think you got the wrong house, lady,” the man said to me.
“I don’t think I do. You are the ones that killed Dr. Durant aren’t you?” I asked.
“I don’t know no Durant. Can’t help you.” The one still on the porch reached for his gun at that moment. Fiona drew her gun and fired a shot as I reached over the fence and grabbed the one that had walked towards us. I jerked him closer, he didn’t struggle as I did it, surprise was evident on his face. His hand went to his pants and I jerked my Taser out and hit him with it.
I felt the electricity tingle through my hand for a moment, then he collapsed at my feet. The dogs looked at him and growled.
“I feel bad for tasering the dog,” Fiona said as the legs gave way on the first dog and it fell to the ground.
“Think of them as hell hounds, not dogs.” I told her, pushing the gate open. There was a loud chiming noise. Someone opened fire on us from the house. Fiona moved behind me. There was absolutely no cover in this yard. Not even a sickly tree.
I ran up the walkway, bum rushing the house. These guys were as good a shots as Stormtroopers and I made it to the porch without getting hit by a single bullet. I had drawn my gun and shot the door at the knob. Then I rushed the door slamming my shoulder into it. It popped open with little protest, the jamb dislodging itself on one the side with the hinges.
It hung at a crazy angel. There was shouting from inside and more shooting, but I didn’t think they were shooting at Fiona and I anymore. I was pretty sure the bullets were going out into the backyard. Maybe I was wrong and it was a little like the old west.
I entered the house with Fiona two steps behind me. My gun was still drawn and in front of me. I saw a guy at a window at the rear of the house and fired, hitting him in the leg. He turned and aimed at me as he slumped to the ground. I fired a second shot, hitting him square in the chest. His hand convulsed and fired one shot that hit the wall way to the right of me. Then the hand released the gun and the arm fell.
There was a crash as the backdoor came open and suddenly I could see Lucas. He was bleeding, but it didn’t look like he was bleeding a lot. I headed up the stairs. There was a guy at the top of them trying to shoot at me. But he was holding the gun sideways for some reason and just randomly pulling the trigger, his head and body protected by the wall of the staircase. He couldn’t see me and he couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn. I moved to the far wall and begin to slowly walk up. I was about halfway up and decided to just shoot through the wall if nothing else. I fired quickly, six shots into the drywall. On the fifth he screamed and the gun fell to the ground.
Gabriel and Fiona were shouting SCTU on the ground floor as I continued up the stairs. Lucas was now behind me, the big man was quiet as a church mouse, but I could feel him there.
At the top of the stairs someone rushed me and we tumbled backwards and down. Somehow we missed taking Lucas with us and he landed on top of me at the bottom of the stairs. My gun was gone. I grabbed his shirt, it felt wet. My fingers probed for the source of the wet sticky fluid and found a bullet hole in his abdomen. I stuck my finger in it. He screamed and then he went completely limp. I pushed him off of me. And lay there for a few moments.
“Secure,” Lucas shouted from upstairs.
“Three dead down here,” Xavier shouted. “One unconscious, everyone else okay?”
“I’m good,” I said from my position at the bottom of the stair case.
“Feel better, you got to shoot someone?” Lucas asked from the top of the stairs.
“I don’t know, right now, I’m just horrified that I fell down the stairs.”
“You had help,” Lucas started to come down. A woman a little older than myself was behind him. She looked like she’d been roughed up pretty good.
“Special Agent Jennifer Young?” Gabriel asked her.
“Yes,” she looked at me and held out a hand.
“I’m okay down here for now, but thanks.” I told her and she removed her hand.
Twenty-Three
We were home. Team Bravo was in Washington tracking down a serial killer that liked to cut his victims into small pieces and put them in gallon baggies to leave in random places. Which was incredi
bly gross and I was glad I wasn’t on that case. There’d been three victims so far.
I was sitting at Lucas and Trevor’s kitchen table. We’d just finished dinner. My mom was with us.
“I have questions, big important questions,” I said to the two men.
“We thought you might,” Trevor responded.
“What are you going to tell a child who wants to know how they got here?” I asked first.
“You mean would we out you as the egg donor?” Trevor asked.
“Pretty much.” I responded coolly.
“Would I be allowed to babysit?” My mom asked.
“Mom,” I said.
“I know it wouldn’t technically be my grandchild in the same way Nyleena isn’t technically my daughter, but I had to ask.”
“Still complicated,” I told Lucas.
“Honey, life is complicated. It’s the nature of living.”
“We would not out you without your approval. We can always say we just randomly applied to a clinic and got eggs from an anonymous donor.” Trevor finally said. “And yes, Myrna, I would want you involved. Lucas and I discussed that, and since you’re basically our family, it only seems right for you to be involved.”
“Although for the sake of ease, I would prefer if they didn’t call you grandma.” Lucas added after a moment of hesitation.
“I understand that,” My mom smiled at them.
“Are you guys really sure you want to pass along my genes?” I asked.
“Neither of us have a history of psychopathology in our families. We think it would be fine and if the child does turn out to be psychopathic, well your mom is across the street to give us tips. She did a pretty good job with two psychopathic children.”
“You remember my brother is in prison for mass murder, right?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t like he randomly killed innocent people at a mall. Your parents did a decent job of instilling some sense of morality in you and Eric, even if you are both psychopaths.” Trevor said.
“Okay,” I sighed. “What kind of timeframe are you thinking?”
“We’d like to start within the next year.” Lucas said.
“Okay.” I nodded as if I was in agreement even though I wasn’t sure I was.
“Do you have other concerns?” Lucas asked.
“I don’t know, not really. I’ve been researching it some and Xavier gave me the medical landscape for it. I still have reservations.”
“I think we expect you to have reservations that you can’t express, beyond just should I really pass along these genes.” Trevor reached across the table and took my hand. “You do understand why we want yours, right?”
“Not really.”
“Seriously?” Trevor asked. “Ace, you are smart, strong, independent, attractive, and very capable. Those seem like great traits to pass along to a child. Even if there is some risk of passing along your affect disorder.”
“Give me another week to think about it?” I asked.
“Of course, take a month or two months. We don’t want to rush you and have you decide later that it was a mistake. Because just like your mom is our neighbor, you are as well, it will be impossible to avoid our child.” Lucas said.
After I got back home, Kimberly called me. I’d put her phone number in my phone so her name popped up on the caller ID. I sat at the kitchen table with my mom. I wanted to get her advice one more time.
“Hey,” I said as I answered the phone.
“Hey, I was calling to give you an update. The judge ruled tonight to send Amber to KC to stand trial under the SKMM laws despite documented history of her condition.”
I groaned and Kimberly agreed with a groan of her own. This meant I would have to give evidence at a trial. Normally, that didn’t bother me, but with Amber, it did. Now I had something else to talk to my mom about because I was going to need advice on how to handle this.
“Dr. Abernathy is already writing an appeal. I called her first. She isn’t sure whether it will help or not, but hopefully.”
“Yeah, thanks, Kimberly.” I hung up and put my head on the table.
“Bad news I take it.” My mom said.
“Not great, they are going to prosecute the serial killer with DID under the SKMM laws. I don’t know why. Personally, I’m not convinced she’s entirely at fault for her crimes.”
“Who is then?” My mom asked.
“Her mom,” I answered. “I don’t normally blame mothers for that kind of thing, but this time, I’m feeling like it is probably her mom’s fault.”
“You’ve been having nightmares about it. I hear you at night yelling at Brexton.” My mom told me.
“And yet Lucas and Trevor want me to pass these genes along.”
“That’s because Lucas and Trevor love you, they see the good in you more than the bad,” my mom said.
“And you?” I asked.
“I’m not a nonconscious observer, I have a stake in the pot because I love you too. The question is can you watch a little girl or little boy grow up across the street knowing that the child has your genes?”
“I don’t think I have maternal instincts,” I responded.
“Probably not, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be difficult.” My mother said. “Even with Isabella and Eric, it was hard to watch Nyleena grow up for both me and your dad. Because we knew she was our child, but we weren’t raising her. If your dad could feel that way, I’m not sure you couldn’t also feel that way.”
“That’s illogical.”
“Probably, but our brains aren’t always logical, especially when it comes to children,” my mom said.
I awoke at 5:27 am. My phone was ringing. It was Kimberly. This was going to be bad.
“I woke you,” Kimberley said.
“Sort of, I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“I thought you should know, Amber was killed last night after I spoke to you.”
“Killed?” I asked.
“Yes, I guess Brexton came out while they were distributing medications and attacked a guard and another patient. Staff had to give them a strong sedative to stop the attack. It stopped her heart.”
“So she was murdered?” I asked.
“We don’t think it was deliberate murder. It might have been an accident, or it’s possible that Brexton had a sensitivity to the sedative that the other personalities didn’t have. When I talked to Dr. Abernathy about it, she informed me that Martha was allergic to strawberries, but she was the only one allergic to strawberries.”
“That’s mind boggling.” I said.
“Yes it is. We are going to try to get hold of the leading expert in DID to see if they’ve ever heard of such a thing, but right now, that’s the theory we’re going with.”
“Okay, thanks.” I hung up as my mom opened my door.
“Bad news?”
“The killer with DID died of a bad reaction to a sedative that the other personalities didn’t have problems with.”
“Wow,” my mom said.
“Yep, good night, I’m going to try to get a few more hours of sleep.”
“Good night, honey,” my mom said as she shut the door.
Note from the Author
Writing a character with dissociative identity disorder was incredibly difficult. I needed it to be as realistic as possible for my own peace of mind. To that end, I did a lot of research and learned some very interesting things about DID and alters (multiple personalities).
Let me say two very important things about DID, 1) it is rare to have fully developed alters like I have in this book. 2) People with DID are rarely dangerous to anyone but themselves. DID with alters does have high suicide rates, because it is difficult for the alters to deal with each other.
I included some unbelievable “facts” in this book about DID. Amber being left-handed while the other three alters were right-handed. Amber needing glasses, but none of the other alters needing them. Martha being aware of all the others. Caroline and Amber’s belie
fs that they had a parasitic twin who didn’t have a body of their own and therefore had stolen their body. And Brexton’s death by allergic reaction to a medication the other alters were not allergic to... All of that was based on real cases of DID I read about.
It is not uncommon for an alter to have an accent that none of the other personalities have. It is not uncommon for alters to be a different gender than the original personality. Alters can even be animalistic and a person might act like an animal when that alter is in control as a result.
The flashback memories and amnesia, the headaches, the waking up without knowing where they are, these are all real things that happen to people who have dissociative identity disorder with alters. Alters can change facial expressions to the point of making the person look like a different person. Their mannerisms can be so different they appear to be another person.
Sexual, physical, and emotional abuse of very young children are the most common cause of DID. But they aren’t the only cause. Toddlers who experience migraines, toddlers that have multiple anaphylaxis allergy attacks, and infants that experience massive seizures have been known to develop DID even without experiencing any abuse.
These three physical triggers all have a major impact on the neurological function of a young child. Yes, even anaphylaxis, as the body quickly begins to starve the brain of oxygen once the airway swells close.
And nearly everyone will experience a mild form of dissociative identity disorder called dissociative amnesia. The brain walls off a memory because it is traumatic. It can happen at any age and the only risk factor for it is experiencing trauma. When you read about a person who has been a victim of a crime or witness to one or in a car accident who just has no memory of the event even though they didn’t suffer head trauma, the most likely cause is dissociative amnesia.
Truly repressed memories are the result of dissociative amnesia. I’m not talking about the weird repressed memories where a 40-year-old man suddenly remembers his father gave him to aliens for experiments. Unfortunately, the false repressed memory craze of the 1980s and 1990s damaged the field of dissociative identity disorder research quite substantially.
