Was there any good news? It was late June, and the sun was shining in Madison. The wicked Wisconsin winter snow was still months away. I would consider that as possibly the only good news of the day.
I tucked my fake ID into my belt and removed my sunglasses as I entered the rock store. The shop was fairly small, maybe only a couple hundred square feet. The creaking of the old wooden floor and the layout gave the shop a vintage feel. Numerous unique rocks filled glass display cases and a few tall wooden shelves. The other shelves were scattered with unique gift ideas and rocks cut in half, revealing amethyst-colored crystals inside—geodes, I think. A security camera, more than likely a fake one, was mounted in the far-right ceiling corner. Another decoy camera blinked a little red light from the diagonal corner.
A man and a woman, both wearing ironed suits, appeared from the back room. I took a wild guess that they were local detectives. The woman flipped her small notebook shut and glanced down at my badge. I hoped my imitation ID wasn’t too good to be true; my forgery skills aren’t what they used to be.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Detective Kasiah Johnson, and this is my partner, Detective Morgan Tone.”
“Special Agent Mike Wesley from the Seattle field office,” I introduced myself, shaking both their hands. I was still getting used to my alias. I intended to keep my real name, Aeron, as far away from this case as possible.
Morgan was tall, with a clean-shaven head and a firm handshake. He had a straight to-the-point attitude in his voice when he said hello. I suspected his smooth direct movements and his discipline were courtesy the U.S. military.
Kasiah’s Midwestern accent made her sound a bit sweeter than I guessed she really was. Her brunette hair would fall just below her shoulders if it wasn’t pulled back and out of the way. I could see the edge of her contact lenses around her deep dark brown eyes. Her closet probably had at least a dozen of those sleek black suit jackets and matching pants. I doubted the weapon making the slight bugle at her right hip would offer sufficient protection against the person who committed these gruesome murders.
“We’ve been expecting the FBI for a few hours now,” said Kasiah, insinuating that I was late.
“I apologize, Agent Johnson,” I replied. “I was on a plane back to Seattle from Chicago when I got the call. I was back in the air within an hour after landing. I was actually surprised to even get a flight out to Madison this quick. It’s amazing what this shiny badge can do.”
I may have left out the part about having my friend Jess use her magic cyber wand to delay the FBI’s flight a couple hours. I highly recommend everyone having their own hacker; and Jess was mine. I’ve actually never met Jess, and I don’t even know where she is; although when I require an internet pirate, she’s the one I call. I laughed at Jess’s comments on how easy it was to hack into the flight database and take control of the passenger lists and seating. I was sure the FBI would use their own tricks to bump someone from another flight.
Kasiah looked past me out the front window. “Morgan, please go outside and make sure the officers keep the news crews as far back as they can.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Morgan said as he quickly went outside, pointing his finger down the street and shouting at the news crews.
Kasiah was obviously in charge.
“What would you like to see first?” she asked.
“Two victims?” I asked, looking toward the rear of the store.
“Yes, that’s correct,” she confirmed, flipping open her notebook. “The owner and one of his employees were the only ones in the building at the time. The owner was male in his late forties, and his employee was a local college student in her early twenties. Both bodies have been transported to the local crime lab. I was instructed to wait here and brief the FBI upon arrival. We’d typically investigate the murder as part of our precious stone theft case, but these victims apparently match the M.O. of your killer. This is your crime scene now, Agent Wesley.”
I sensed a hint of sarcasm in Kasiah’s voice when she said your killer. She was used to calling the shots. I was also pretty sure she did not approve of my attire; she looked at me as if I was one of those ‘these rules don’t apply to me’ agents. She was right.
“Precious stone theft?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Yes. There have been multiple thefts across the country involving some of the rarest stones in existence—some worth millions. None have been recovered so far.”
This got me excited. I was on the right track.
“I wasn’t aware something was stolen during the murders,” I continued. “This is the first time the killer has taken something from the scene other than blood.”
“I’ll give you the short version to bring you up to speed,” Kasiah said, obviously annoyed that her precious stone theft wasn’t more important than a cross-country serial killer. “My team was originally notified by the local P.D. because of what was stolen from the shop—one of the world’s rarest geodes. Actually, the correct term is ‘nodule’, which is a geode with a core of solid crystals. This particular nodule is priceless, and one of only two halves ever discovered.”
Kasiah pulled out several photographs from her suit jacket and arranged them on one of the glass display cases.
“The full nodule,” she said, pointing to one of the photos, “was approximately the size of a basketball when discovered. The internal crystal is of a bright cobalt color, which glows an even more intense blue when placed in the dark. Nothing like it had ever been seen before or again. One half of the nodule was donated to the Smithsonian in 1998 by a geologist from Arizona. From what we’ve learned, the geologist is the daughter of the shop’s owner, Kevin Harding. Mr. Harding’s daughter gave him the second half as a gift. It’s been on display here at the rock shop ever since. Mr. Harding refused to sell it no matter what the offer was. While interviewing Mr. Harding’s wife, we learned that that some offers were over a quarter million dollars and that the nodule immediately boosted business. Geologists have come from all over the world to view this rare find.”
Kasiah collected her photos and placed them back in her pocket.
“Madison’s White-Collar Crime Unit had been watching this particular piece for the past six weeks,” she continued, “ever since Mr. Harding received several death threats. He was afraid someone would eventually steal the nodule. We were actually hoping someone would try, so we could catch the thieves red-handed. I’m sorry to say we hadn’t anticipated this type of violence. The theft occurred around seven this morning, and Mr. Harding’s wife discovered the bodies around eight. I phoned my supervisor and described the nature of the wounds on the victims’ necks. He immediately instructed me to stop everything while he contacted the Bureau—an order we reluctantly obeyed.”
I listened closely as I followed Kasiah across the shop, checking my watch and wondering if the FBI’s flight had touched down. Time was running out.
Kasiah flipped a few more pages of her notebook before adding, “It’s apparent on the security camera footage that the murders were not planned as a part of the theft. They only occurred as a result of being surprised while stealing the nodule. However, my superiors still insisted we hold the investigation for the FBI.”
I don’t admit it often, but I was caught off guard by what Kasiah had just said.
“Did you just say you have the killer on a security camera?” I asked as calmly as possible.
Kasiah looked up at one of the two security cameras in the main shop area. “Yes,” she said. “These two are dummy cameras visible in the main area. Each of these cameras have a battery-powered blinking LED light but no actual video recording capability. Both the cameras would fool your average shop-lifter. We had four of our own micro cameras on the property focused on the entryways and nodule’s night safe.”
I took a breath and waited a few seconds before asking the next question. I didn’t want to sound desperate. “May I review the footage?”
&n
bsp; “That can be arranged once we get back to the local office and download the footage. I can take you first to the coroner’s office at the crime lab, so you can verify the wounds are similar to the others.”
“No,” I said more aggressively than intended. “We have not yet caught this particular killer on camera or have a single living witness. I need to review that footage as soon as possible.”
Kasiah motioned for Morgan to join us. She asked for his phone as she reached into her pants pocket. She pulled out a flash drive and plugged it into the bottom of his phone. Kasiah toggled through several menus and stopped at a file with today’s date. She pushed play and fast-forwarded to 7:14 am.
I love modern-day gadgets like these; I remember a time before Edison had even thought of inventing the light bulb. At that time, everyone was terrified of new things, especially electricity. More than just a few early scientists were burned at the stake as witches for predicting modern inventions like telephones, airplanes, and computers. Although, I don’t necessarily miss those days.
The micro camera that recorded the footage appeared to be mounted on a drain pipe near what must have been the rear door. It was aimed parallel to the rear wall and directly at the door. The video played for a few seconds, when a man suddenly appeared from what looked like out of nowhere. His movements were a blur, almost as if he was moving too fast for the camera to actually record the movement. He stopped at the door only long enough to grab the handle and pull it open.
“The rear door was unlocked?” I asked.
Kasiah paused the video. “No, the door is an industrial strength steel door with two dead bolt locks. He broke both the locks as if they weren’t even there. They must have been precut before the break-in.”
Kasiah pressed play again. The video didn’t have a very good shot of whoever opened the door, even though there was a light directly above. The view was of the man’s back. All you could see was a full-length black leather trench coat and short dark hair. He vanished inside as soon as the door opened.
“Is there footage from inside?” I asked.
“Yes, but they didn’t capture much. The cameras inside the building only caught Mr. Harding removing the nodule from the safe two minutes before the killer entered through the rear door. The killer wasn’t seen on any of the inside cameras. He must have walked right past the camera that has a view of the entire back room away from the rear door.”
I glanced at my watch again. “Does he leave from the same door?”
“Yes, he leaves almost exactly ninety seconds after he enters, which is amazing, considering he had to surprise Mr. Harding and his employee, kill them both, and steal the nodule.” Kasiah pointed to the tiny screen. “Here, you can see him leaving.”
The steel door opened as if it was struck by a truck. It swung open, hit the wall, and came flying back shut. The killer was out the door and gone even before the door completely swung shut.
“Can you rewind that and step through each frame?” I asked excitedly.
Kasiah moved her finger over the small function buttons on the phone. “Yes, we did that, but you can’t really see a clear shot of his face. I guess some is better than none.”
Kasiah rewound the video and started playing it forward frame by frame. It took only ten frames at twenty-five frames per second for the door to swing open. The killer emerged from the building and was in view for only several frames. Kasiah was right when she insisted you couldn’t, in fact, see his face. However, the little I could see was enough. I instantly recognized him. His facial features hadn’t changed a bit; his movements and the timeframe in which the two victims were killed was enough for me to know without a doubt.
Kasiah picked up on my fear. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” I lied.
Like I said, there aren’t very many things that frighten me in this world. I emphasize in this world for a reason, because I’m not from this world, and neither is this killer. What sends a chill down my spine and top the number one spot on my fright list? Well, I had just seen a Shadow Vampire for the first time in almost a century. Not just any Shadow Vampire; this was Atmoro, a Shadow Vampire rumored to be dead for decades. And by the way, I still don’t believe in ghosts.
TWO
I was positive of what I had seen, no matter how impossible it seemed.
“Are you OK?” Morgan asked. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“Ghosts don’t exist,” I retorted. “This footage is a huge break in the case. It’s the first piece of solid evidence of any kind the bureau has recovered. This killer has been incredibly careful. To have an image of his face is the break we’ve been looking for.”
“Does he look familiar to you?” asked Kasiah.
I honestly don’t try to make a habit of lying, but there’s no way I could have told them, “Oh yeah, that’s Atmoro, one of the oldest and strongest Shadow Vampires to have ever existed. He’s only the most skilled killer your world has ever known. Decades ago, he broke a few major Shadow laws and jumped to the Light World, and now he’s killing people and stealing priceless stones just for fun!”
“No,” I said, lying again. “It’s just an adrenaline rush to finally put a blurry face to the case. Is this the only copy of this footage?”
Kasiah unplugged the flash drive and stuffed it back in her pocket “Yes, we haven’t had the chance to download it to the servers back at the office.”
I gazed blankly at nothing in particular. There was no way I could leave the contents of that flash drive in someone’s hand, or pants for that matter. Atmoro didn’t exist in their world or on any of their databases, but if they start plastering his face on national news stations, more people from my world would see it and immediately recognize him.
I turned to Kasiah. “What other information can you give me about the nodule that was stolen?” I didn’t need her to tell me. I just needed to act interested to keep on her good side and get that flash drive. I knew this nodule was from the Shadow World; yet I had no idea why Atmoro would need this stupid rock. In my world, they’re a dime a dozen and primarily used as a light source within homes. It was probably brought here by a jumper, then lost or traded afterward.
Kasiah and Morgan started toward the back door for a waiting black SUV. The vehicle was straight out of a CSI-type TV crime show: black exterior, chromed wheels, tinted windows, and low profile LED emergency dash lights.
“We don’t know much,” Kasiah explained, “except that it’s rare and apparently attracts serial killers. The one thing we do know, however, is that the other half of the nodule is set to open on display here at the University of Madison on Monday, as part of the American Geologist display from the Smithsonian that’s touring around the country. The display will be here for two weeks.”
“So, this isn’t a coincidence,” I said, thinking out loud. “The thief knows both halves of the stone are going to be together for the first time since its discovery.”
“Yes,” she nodded. “The American Geology Society is funding the display and has been notified. They’re willing to continue the display at the U.W. under our supervision and surveillance.”
“When does the nodule arrive?” I asked, though I was sure Atmoro would not wait long before trying to retrieve the other half. I still had no idea why he wanted this stone, how it was tied to the killing spree, or why he stole one half when the other half was on its way to the same city. Why not wait till the same night, grab both pieces, and then get the hell out of town?
Kasiah glanced down at her notebook. “All of the items for display are scheduled to arrive on Friday afternoon at Dane County Regional. They’ll have an escort from the airport to the university campus. We’re already setting up cameras on campus where the display will be held. We’ll have our team in place as staff members when it opens on Monday.”
“If you’re watching the campus,” I said, anticipating Atmoro’s next play, “then so is the killer. He may run if he notices your people setting up se
curity. How sure are you he’s not going to meet the convoy halfway, or just wait for the nodule to return home to the museum?”
I could tell Kasiah was annoyed with me questioning her abilities.
“All of the items for display have been accumulated and stored at the Smithsonian. The security there is fit for the White House. We don’t anticipate the thief to travel nearly a thousand miles for the other half when it’s on its way here in two days.”
I had to admit Kasiah was right. Why would Atmoro go to a heavily secured museum when the nodule is being hand-delivered here to a college campus with a few rent-a-cops? Although, why did he want the damn thing in the first place, and why did he take the first half this morning? He must have known it would bring in the Feds. Unless, of course, if that’s what he wanted.
Kasiah opened the door of the SUV. “Follow us to the morgue,” she suggested, “and we’ll see what the coroner found with the two bodies. Then we can go to the station and make a copy of the video footage.”
I tried to be nice and interested in her poor attempt to forge a plan to catch Atmoro, but I have other ways of getting what I want from Kasiah. I was growing tired of the whole fake FBI agent charade anyway. It was not as much fun as it looked on TV, especially since I knew my hunch was right and there’s a rogue vampire on a killing spree. I no longer needed to play the nice FBI agent. The FBI and CIA together couldn’t catch a Shadow Vampire. I’m going to need help from someone who can make the FBI and CIA look like a bunch of third graders trying to figure out who ate the last cookie.
I could have easily just turned and walked away and let life play out. I had no interest in tangling with a Shadow Vampire. Regrettably, I couldn’t live with myself seeing this devastation continue, knowing all the while no one from this world could to stop Atmoro.
“That sounds like a plan,” I said eagerly. Then, I took one intentionally close step toward Kasiah to catch her eye. She was now no more than an arm length away. I focused my gaze deep into her eyes and spoke quietly, so Morgan could not here. “You want to reach into your pocket, remove the flash drive and hand it to me,” I instructed.
The Blood of a Stone Page 2