The Awakening

by Dirk Patton

  Moving carefully, the three of them cleared the first floor. Katarina felt her face flush with irritation when she looked into the garage and saw Matt’s Porsche. The son of a bitch had come home after all.

  “Okay, guys,” she said. “My husband’s home. He must be upstairs.”

  They traded a glance and her eyes narrowed.

  “What?”

  “Why don’t you let us go first,” the driver said.

  After a moment’s thought, Katarina nodded, then followed them up the stairs. Her view was blocked by their broad backs and she nearly bumped into them when they came to a hard stop. She heard one of them mumble something, then they stepped apart and she saw a man lying on the bedroom floor. It took her a second to realize it was Matt, then several more to understand that he was dead.

  Twenty

  Katarina sent the Marines away before she called 9-1-1. There was no way for her to explain their presence without raising more questions than she could answer.

  When she heard them drive off, she moved closer to Matt’s body and looked it over. He’d been beaten, his face swollen and bruised, but that hadn’t killed him. A single bullet hole over his heart had done the job and she noted that his shirt was burned at that point. The killer had held the weapon within inches of his chest when he fired the fatal shot.

  Raising her phone, she paused in surprise. Why didn’t she feel anything? Her husband, the man she’d married and lived with for two years was lying dead on the floor of their bedroom. She should be distraught, despite their problems. But she wasn’t. For a moment, she considered her lack of emotion about Matt’s murder and what that said about her, then dismissed that line of thought. There were more important considerations.

  Dialing Emergency Services, she identified herself as an FBI agent and reported that there had been a murder. Disconnecting, she immediately called Brody.

  “Matt’s dead,” she said when he answered.

  She heard an intake of breath, then silence.

  “Brody?”

  “What are you talking about, Kat?”

  His voice was guarded. They both knew that any calls she made would be captured and listened to by an investigator. That’s why she’d immediately let him know something serious had happened.

  “I just got home and found his body. He was murdered.”

  She thought it would be a good idea to put some emotion into her voice but didn’t have the energy required to pull off the performance expected of a grieving widow.

  “Are you okay? Did you call 9-1-1?”

  “I’m fine. I wasn’t here, and yes, the locals are on the way. Can you come, Brody?”

  “I’m on my way!”

  “Thanks,” she said, but he’d already disconnected.

  Looking around the room, she spotted the check Brody had given her. Matt must have found it because it was out of the envelope, lying on the bed. Folding it once, she slipped it into her back pocket, turned and went down the stairs without a backward glance at her husband’s corpse.

  Going to the front door, she opened it fully and left it that way for the cops who’d be arriving. She had a moment to think and went over what would be found in her house as detectives dug through every drawer, cabinet and closet. The key for the locker at the train station was far away from her home, and there was nothing else she could think of that could present a problem.

  The screech of tires as a car came to a hard stop drew her attention and she walked out the door. Two uniformed officers stepped out of a Seattle PD cruiser, both eyeing her cautiously with their hands hovering near their weapons.

  “Agent Daniels, FBI,” she called to them.

  They didn’t relax since she wasn’t holding up an ID case. Coming forward, they stayed well apart, paying attention to the open door at her back. Another cruiser pulled up with two more cops and she saw some of the tension ease out of them.

  “You called about a body?” a cop with a pair of chevrons on his sleeve asked.

  “My husband,” she said. “He’s upstairs.”

  The cop looked at her, evaluating, then glanced at the two new arrivals.

  “I’m going to take a look. Stay here with her.”

  “Excuse me, officer,” Katarina said, waiting for him to look at her. “The FBI’s on the way. They’re going to take over. You know they will. So, do what you need to do but I’m going into my back yard and sitting down before I pass out. Send one of them with me if you want.”

  He watched her with narrowed eyes then finally nodded and gestured at one of the cops. The man was younger and obviously hadn’t been on the job for long but got the meaning. He followed her through the house and onto the back porch, standing quietly to the side as she sank into a chair and pulled her legs up until her knees touched her chin.

  Over the next few minutes she heard several more vehicles arrive. Low, male voices spoke from somewhere within the house, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then there was a loud screech of tires followed by the slam of a car door and she heard Brody’s voice.

  “Where is she?”

  A few seconds later he burst onto the patio, coming to a stop and looking at her. She raised her head and tears spilled out of her eyes and down her cheeks. Brody glanced at the uniformed officer and flashed his credentials.

  “Get out of here!”

  The cop hurried into the house.

  “Kat?” Brody asked gently, extending his hand.

  After a moment, she took it and he pulled her to her feet and into an embrace. They began speaking in whispers so they could have a private conversation. It would be sometime before they could again.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “What happened?”

  “I spent the night somewhere else. Found him when I got home this morning.”

  “Where’s Baldwin’s guys?”

  “Sent them away. They were with me when I found him, and I don’t know how to explain their presence.”

  “Okay, good,” he said. “You say anything to the first cops on the scene?”

  “No. ID’d myself, told them where the body was and that’s it.”

  “Good. Pettigrew’s on the way and this’ll be an FBI scene. I called Janice on my way here. She’s calling her sister. Going to have her ask the attorneys in her office who the best criminal lawyer in the city is. You do not speak to anyone until we have him sitting by your side.”

  “I got it, Brody.”

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  “I think it was him. The Retriever.”

  “What?”

  “Sending a message.”

  “Fuck. This just gets better and better.”

  She was still in a tight embrace, facing the house, and could see inside through a large window. When Pettigrew and half a dozen other agents walked through the front door, she remembered something.

  “In my left hip pocket is the check you gave me. Didn’t want anyone to see it and ask questions. Reach in and take it, just in case I’m searched.”

  Brody didn’t say anything, but she felt his hand slip into her pocket and pluck out the folded check.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “My alibi. Liam Macleod, the DEA agent.”

  “You spent the night?”

  “Yes,” she said, stepping back from Brody’s arms when Pettigrew appeared at the door leading to the porch.

  “Are you okay, Agent Daniels?” he asked.

  She started to respond but the words died in her mouth. Floating behind Pettigrew’s sharp featured face was the flickering tongue and burning red eyes of a demon.

  Twenty-One

  The FBI took over the scene of Matt’s murder from the Seattle PD even before the first detective could arrive. A veritable army of forensic technicians began going through the home with a fine-toothed comb.

  When she’d seen the demon inside Pettigrew, Katarina had shut down. Despite everything she’d experienced, she hadn’t been truly convinced t
hat Zophiel and the story he’d spun was real. But after her boss had walked away, she’d sat on the porch and focused on seeing the other dimensions as she’d been shown.

  At first, it had been hard and she was starting to think it had all been a parlor trick until suddenly she was standing in a sun-dappled meadow. In the distance, a figure wandered about, seemingly lost, and after watching him for several minutes she cautiously approached. When she realized it was Matt, she stopped and stared as gooseflesh broke out on her arms and back.

  “Katarina!” he called when he saw her.

  She watched in utter disbelief as he approached at a jog.

  “What’s going on? Where are we?”

  She was unable to speak. His face was unblemished and there wasn’t a bullet hole in his chest.

  “Kat? What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at her with a confused expression.

  “You... you’re here,” she finally stammered.

  “What?” he asked, looking around. “Where’s here?”

  After a long moment she hurried forward and hugged him. He felt real. Solid. She could hear his heart beating when she placed her face against his chest.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” she asked, stepping back and looking at him through tears.

  He stared at her, confusion creasing his face.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She took a breath and looked around for help. For the first time, she’d have been happy to see Zophiel standing behind her, smiling and puffing on his pipe.

  “Kat? What are you talking about? How did we get here?”

  “What do you remember?” she persisted.

  He shook his head and she realized he was struggling to recall what he’d been doing.

  “The doorbell rang and I answered it,” he said, looking over her head as if watching it play out. “There was a man I’d never seen, but he knew who I was. Knew who you were. He wanted...”

  “Wanted what?” she asked when he didn’t continue.

  He frowned in concentration then looked at her and shrugged.

  “I don’t know. After that, everything is just a blur of colors.”

  She reached out and took one of his hands in hers.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Sorry? For what?”

  “This is because of me. Because of a mistake I made. It’s my fault this happened to you.”

  He stared at her in incomprehension then slowly reached out and wiped a tear off her cheek.

  “Are you okay?” she asked with a sad smile.

  “I’m... fine, actually,” he said as if surprised. “I feel great. I just don’t understand what’s going on.”

  “You’re safe. That’s what you need to know. You’re safe, here.”

  After a moment, he smiled then looked around at the meadow. She could see him relax.

  “This is beautiful,” he said. “Are we staying long?”

  Fresh tears sprang from her eyes as she squeezed his hand.

  “You are, honey. But I have to go back to work.”

  “Okay,” he said, unconcerned. “Will you be back soon?”

  “I... I don’t know, baby. I don’t know. But you’ll be okay until I am.”

  “Okay,” he said in a soft voice, looking over his shoulder as if listening to something. “Have to go. There’s someone I need to see.”

  She let his hand drop and he turned and walked away. Tears blurred her vision as she watched him reach the forest and disappear beneath the trees.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she changed her focus and returned to her back porch.

  Her phone was ringing and she ignored it, letting it go to voice mail. It immediately started again and in irritation she snatched it up and answered, ready to harshly dismiss whoever it was.

  “Hello, Agent Daniels.” Her back stiffened and her blood ran cold when she heard the Retriever’s voice. “Did you receive my message?”

  She leapt to her feet and looked around, making sure she was alone. Her mouth was open to launch into a tirade when she remembered that her phone was almost certainly already being monitored.

  “Now’s not a good time,” she said through gritted teeth. “There’s been a death in the family.”

  “Oh, dear,” he said in a mocking tone. “That is most distressing. Is there anything I can do?”

  Katarina suddenly realized that the man was aware of the probability of the call being recorded and was being careful with his words.

  “No,” she said.

  “Very well, Agent. You now have my number. Hopefully you will contact me very soon. My condolences for your loss and sincere wishes for the continued good health of the others who are close to you.”

  The man disconnected and it took all of her self-control to not throw the phone against the concrete and scream.

  “Kat?”

  She whirled in alarm, taking a calming breath when she saw Eloise’s senior tech standing in the doorway.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, not coming any closer. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Not your fault, Sandra. Find anything?”

  “Sweetie, you know I can’t tell you anything,” she said sympathetically. “And I’m sorry, but we’re getting ready to seal off the downstairs.”

  Katarina looked at her for a long moment before nodding.

  “Where’s Eloise?” she asked, realizing she hadn’t seen her friend.

  “Some family emergency,” Sandra said with a shrug. “Now, about sealing the house?”

  “Go ahead,” Katarina said. “Nothing in there for me anyway.”

  Sandra looked at her for a beat then dropped her eyes and pulled the sliding door closed. Another tech was waiting and quickly sealed the edges with adhesive crime scene tape. Katarina watched him work for a moment, then left the backyard in search of Brody.

  She found him in the street in front of a neighbor’s house, speaking quietly with a distinguished looking man wearing a ten-thousand-dollar suit. He saw her coming and they both turned to greet her.

  “Kat, this is Tucker Vance. Your attorney.”

  “Agent Daniels,” the man said in a pleasing baritone as he extended his hand.

  She gave it a quick shake and grabbed Brody’s arm.

  “Excuse us a moment,” she said as she dragged Brody a safe distance away.

  “What are you---”

  “Here,” she said quietly, shoving her phone at him. “The last call on there is from him. Not even five minutes ago. See what you can do with the number.”

  Brody looked at the phone in his hand then back at her.

  “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, go talk to your lawyer.”

  She nodded and returned to where Vance was standing, looking at them with an interested expression.

  “What was that about, Agent Daniels?”

  She looked at him in surprise.

  “That’s a private matter.”

  “Let’s get one thing out of the way, right off,” he said. “Until you are cleared of your husband’s murder, you have no private matters when it comes to your defense. Clients who listen to me have a better than ninety-five percent chance of never seeing the inside of a prison cell. Clients who do not, who think they know better than me, have a more than eighty percent chance of being incarcerated for a substantial portion of their lives. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Agent Daniels?”

  They stared at each other, neither blinking or looking away.

  “As I said, it’s a private matter between Agent James and myself,” she finally said.

  “Very well.”

  He gave her another long look.

  “Besides Agent James, who in law enforcement have you spoken with?”

  “No one other than the responding Seattle PD officers. All I did was identify myself and tell them where Matt’s body was located within the house.”

  “That’s it?” he asked with an arched eyebrow. “No comments to any of your co-wo
rkers who are right now tearing your home apart? Nothing to your boss?”

  “Nothing!” Katarina said firmly. “And no one has asked me anything, either.”

  “They will.”

  “Mister Vance, I’m a career FBI agent. I know the drill.”

  He nodded in acceptance of her statement.

  “You know the drill from the FBI side of an investigation, not from the defendant’s side. That’s why you need me.”

  “I don’t need you!” Katarina cried. “I didn’t kill my husband and I’m not a suspect!”

  He looked at her for a long moment before sighing and shaking his head.

  “Agent Daniels. Katarina. May I call you Katarina?”

  She nodded.

  “Katarina, first of all, I don’t care if you did or did not kill your husband. My job at this stage is to prevent the government from ever bringing charges against you in the first place.”

  “I told you, I’m not a suspect!”

  “Did someone tell you that?” he asked.

  After a moment, she shook her head.

  “Even if they had, it would be a lie and would not change our approach. And, I can guarantee that as the spouse of the deceased, you are already being considered the prime suspect. With your background you should realize that as well.”

  Katarina began to object, then closed her mouth and looked down.

  “Sorry. You’re right. So, what do I do?”

  “You talk to no one without me present. No one. If a friend from work calls to offer condolences, you let them leave a voice mail. You do not talk to anyone, and I mean anyone, until this is resolved. Especially Agent James.”

  “Brody?” she asked in surprise.

  “Correct,” Vance said, nodding for emphasis. “He is still an FBI agent. If the worst happens and you become a target of the investigation, he will be compelled to speak with the investigators and prosecutors. Anything you have said to him can potentially become evidence against you at a trial. And if he refuses to cooperate, or they think he’s holding something back, he could lose his job. Or worse. So, as of this moment, you are cut off. No contact with anyone in law enforcement without me by your side.”