by David Clark
The last statement Jordan wrote on his pad was, That wasn’t nice. To which Sharon responded, “but it worked.”
“Yes, it did,” Jordan mumbled.
“Hey, come with me.” Jordan spun around, surprised. Andrew Kendal was standing in the door waiting for him. “It’s time we fill in the chief. We need to take action now before anyone gets wind of what is going on.”
They walked back to Andrew Kendal’s desk, which was nothing more than a quarter of a cube with an old computer shoved in the corner and a worn office chair on rollers and an equally worn and less comfortable looking chair with the filling popping out of the cushion. Jordan knew where he was going to be sitting. Andrew had the phone on speaker while he read off the list of names to Lester Winfield, the chief of the Richmond Police Department. Normally the state attorney would have been on such a call, especially with such high-profile names involved, but as Andrew explained to Chief Winfield, it was a bit problematic with his name on the list and all. Before the call ended, the chief agreed with Andrew and called in everyone. Every detective, fugitive task force, and SWAT officer on the payroll. Vacation or not. They were to be in within the hour, then as a unit they would round up the entire list all at the same time. There was one final request before Andrew hung up the call. With whom the suspects were, and the sheer volume of suspects, they would need help. Chief Winfield offered to call in the Virginia State Police, but Andrew said, “bigger.”
“Then FBI it is,” responded Chief Winfield. “I’ll make the call right now.”
“Thanks, Chief. Can you request Agent Jordan Blake? He was brought in to consult on the autopsy of Sharon Carter. He is already familiar with the case.” Andrew looked at Jordan and smiled.
“Done,” said the voice over the speaker.
“Thanks Chief,” Andrew hung up the call and left Jordan at his desk for a few moments. When he returned, he sat down and said, “Buckle up, this is going to get wild. We just issued a full recall for everyone.”
Over the next hour, Jordan consumed two energy drinks one of the officers bought for him at the convenience store down the block. The shots of caffeine were what he needed to clear his head before the chaos ensued, and it was chaos. Dozens of detectives and officers all assembled in the room. Teams of three were given a single name each. The plan was to grab each person around the same time to avoid any kind of warning being sent down the line. They headed out. Jordan offered to go with Andrew and his team, which had handpicked Malcolm Frances as their target. Andrew wanted him.
Jordan downed another energy drink in the silence of the department, waiting for the first suspects to be brought in. While a few phones rang in the background, he pondered where they were going to put all of them, when they brought them in. There were only a total of four interview rooms. It would probably be holding cells for the others while they waited their turn. He made a note of suggesting to Andrew they might want to avoid the holding cells and sequester a few floors of a hotel. Each person needed to be kept in isolation to avoid any possible collusion between one another.
The flickering of the overhead fluorescent lights began to get on his nerves in the breakroom he sat in. Probably a result of too much caffeine. He had never downed so many of those things in such a short period. A bad decision that he justified by envisioning hours upon hours of interrogation ahead of him. He made a few checks of his phone for a message from the bureau, from Todd Classen specifically, but it hadn’t come yet. It was only a little after five. Even early for Todd’s standards.
Man, these lights are really getting on my nerves, thought Jordan, and he got up and walked out into the now dark hallway past the room he had interviewed Dean Wilson in and into the cubicle farm and over to the windows. It was dark outside, and he could easily see the streetlight lined roads that crisscrossed the surrounding area beyond the reflection of the office behind him. He was lost in wonder as he looked out on the quiet and tranquil streets. How many lives would be impacted when what they were doing here hit the news? To Jordan, this was a part of his job that he found completely fascinating. One might think the effects of a crime stop at the victim, the victim’s family and loved ones, the suspect, and their loved ones, but it doesn’t. It spread to those that had ever encountered any of those directly impacted. It spreads into the community at both a conscious and subconscious level. People feel safer because it was solved, while others feel more afraid because it happened at all. What will they think when the truth is out?
Movement behind him pulled him from his wonderment, and a muted shiver passed through him. He hadn’t expected anyone back yet, but he also didn’t know how close any of the suspects lived to the department. He turned, expecting to see a three-man team with suspects in cuffs. They could put him in room one, since they were first back. Jordan would watch him via the monitors while he waited on the others to return. There wasn’t a three-man team there. No suspect. Just a man in a dark suit with a black fedora. The red ember from the end of a cigarette glowed in the darkness while a ring of smoke circled around him.
“I warned you,” said the familiar voice. “I warned you to not interfere in my business, but you didn’t listen.”
“Robert?” Jordan asked. Not able to see his face, but there was no mistaking the voice.
“Yep Jordan,” he took a big puff on the cigarette and let it out slowly. “Didn’t we have a nice talk about boundaries? Yours and mine, and what would happen if you crossed mine?”
Jordan remembered the conversation vividly. Where the confusion lived now was in where he had crossed the boundary. “I am not sure I understand. You said I shouldn’t stop you...”
“I said don’t interfere with my fun,” Robert interrupted. Smoke squeezed out of the pinched corners of his mouth. “There are many ways to interfere, and many people can be hurt.” Robert walked to Jordan and emerged out of the shadows. His hard wrinkled features were clear under the light, as were his dark soulless eyes. “I warned you.”
“How am I...”. Before Jordan finished the question, Robert was gone in a cloud of smoke and an evil laugh. As the smoke dissipated, his voice hung around for one more jab, “This will be one for me.”
“Robert?”, Jordan called, but there was no answer. What the hell did he mean? Jordan wondered. He was sitting in a dark police station. How exactly was that interfering with his fun? Then Jordan thought about everything going on around him and he grabbed his phone and quickly called Megan. Each unanswered ring sent him further into panic, and close to the door on his way back to the hotel. The sleepy, “Hello” lowered his heartrate, but only slightly.
“Megan, Megan,” he said rapidly.
“Yea,” she said over him.
“Is everything all right there?”
“Yea. I guess. What do you mean? I was sleeping,” she said, sounding as confused as he did panicked.
“Just look around the room, please.” He thought about it for only half a second. His intention was not to scare her, but he needed her to know what and why he was asking. “Robert paid me another visit.”
“What?!”, she exclaimed, fully awake now. Jordan could hear a lot of rustling on the other side of the phone, as well as Megan’s footsteps across the room. “I just turned the light on. No one is here, and I don’t feel him either.”
“I think I did, but just barely.” The shiver he felt before didn’t make sense at the time, but it sure did now.
“Remember, I am more sensitive in general than you are. Plus, I have my crystal on me. If he or anything like him was around me, I would know it.” Then she asked, “Are the girls with you? They aren’t here.”
“Yea, they are here. They had an interesting evening with Dean Wilson.”
“What?”, she asked, surprised.
“I will tell you later. Just be careful and watch out for,” Jordan had to stop. He didn’t know what to tell Megan to watch out for and felt all he was doing was giving her a fright. Not a bad thing. It would help make her more alert. “Be caref
ul. Love you,” he said as he disconnected. The last part had slipped out before he realized it, but he didn’t regret it.
Okay, what did he mean? Think. Think.
Jordan sensed no threats around him at the moment. He was all alone in the building. Then he realized he wasn’t alone, and hurried to the interview room, where Sharon, Beth, and Maria promised to stay. He didn’t want them following Dean Wilson back down to lockup and having anymore fun at his expense. They were in there, lounging in the chairs. Beth sat on the table. They were talking about music of all things when Jordan entered and asked, “Did you guys see an old man in all black and a black hat come by here?”
Each looked at the other with a clueless look on their face.
“He calls himself Robert, and is some kind of ghost, spirit, or maybe he is a demon, I don’t really know... claims to be the cause of everything that is evil,” he explained while realizing how preposterous his description sounded. Luckily for him, he was giving it to three ghosts.
Again, each looked like they didn’t know who or what Jordan was talking about.
“Never mind.”
“Jordan, what about him?”, Sharon asked.
“He warned us the other night about interfering with him, and just appeared again, saying we crossed the line.”
“So what?,” Sharon asked with an inquisitive look on his face. “What would happen if you did?”
Good question. Jordan couldn’t remember if Robert had ever explained what the consequence was. He never gave a specific, but the heavy feeling of the encounter caused Jordan to assume it would be death.
“Is Megan okay?” Beth jumped off the table and asked, with a concern that surprised Jordan. She sounded like she was asking about one of her best friends in the whole world.
“She’s fine. I just talked with her and told her to be on the lookout.” Beth let out a sigh and settled back on the table.
“We first encountered him at your place, Sharon, then he came to us in the hotel, and again just a few minutes ago,” Jordan thought out loud. “I am not sure how any of that would have interfered with what he claims he does. I guess it could be possible that us finding the other bodies,” he started and then caught himself and corrected the statement because of the company he was in, “finding Beth and Maria interfered with him in some way, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense. He told me he didn’t care what I did after the fact, and that would be well...” he paused and looked at the three girls with a sheepish and regretful look. After a hard swallow, he completed his statement apologetically, “after the fact. Sorry.”
“It’s fine, we understand what you mean,” Marie said, looking at the others who nodded in agreement.
“The cops. The ones making the arrest tonight, that is not after if he was still involved,” Sharon tossed out.
“Shit!,” Jordan exclaimed. How could he have missed that? Exhaustion maybe, but the caffeine should have kicked in. That and the adrenaline coursed through his veins, and his heart pounded while he sprinted down the hall and out into the parking lot to the car. His hand searched his phone for Detective Kendal’s number in the previous calls.
He found it when he opened the car door. It rang twice before he heard, “Kendal.”
“Andrew, it’s Jordan. Something is up. Where are you?”, Jordan said. He cranked the car and threw it in reverse. There was a light chirp of the tires as it pulled out of the parking spot and shifted in to drive.
“Jordan, what do you mean something is up? What happened?”, Andrew asked from the call that had now shifted to the car speakers.
“I can’t explain now. Where are you? I am on the way.” Jordan pulled to the exit, but not sure which direction to go.
“Jordan, we can’t wait. Everyone is in position. We are about to get out and pickup Malcom. Just waiting for the last team to say they are there.”
“Where is he?”, Jordan asked.
“21 South Port Street.”
Jordan hung the call up without another word and quickly typed the address into his phone. It was 3.7 miles away to the right, in the middle of downtown. From the map, the building appeared to be a renovated brownstone. Jordan selected his destination and floored it, ignoring any posted speed limits on the empty city roads.
When he turned on to Port Street, he saw the car Andrew used sitting along the side of the road with all the doors opened. Down the street there were three men chasing another down the sidewalk. Jordan knew then, it hadn’t gone to plan. He sped down two blocks and pulled up on the curb with a slam just as who he had to assume was Malcom Frances leaped over his hood. Before his door was open, Andrew and the other two detectives he took with him were passing his car. Jordan joined the pursuit, tapping into his daily runs.
The pursuit continued down the empty sidewalk and across vacant streets for another six blocks. Calls of “Stop!”, and “Stop! Police!” were not heeded by their target. If anything, he seemed to be getting further and further away. Jordan picked up the pace and passed Andrew and the other detectives. He was almost in an all-out sprint and saw himself gaining on him. He probably would have too, if a single figure leaning up against a light pole smoking a cigarette wearing a black fedora hadn’t distracted him, slowing him to a walk and eventually stopping altogether.
Andrew caught up to Jordan and continued by with the other two detectives across the road and into the path of the city bus that traveled through the intersection at speed. It screeched to a stop several hundred feet after impact. The occupants all stood up, and looked forward in disbelief at what they just saw. Along the road were what remained of three bodies. None of them were whole bodies anymore. Just pieces that laid at the end of long red smears on the pavement.
“Told ya,” Robert said, and then he disappeared with a grin.
Jordan could do nothing but stand there and shake.
28
It was a sickness beyond the worst sickness Jordan had ever felt. Images of the three men being splattered on the road in front of him flashed every time he closed his eyes. Flashes of the horrifying sight even filled every blink. Each forced him to relive the moment, over and over again. While he was numb to everything else that had happened at the scene for the next two hours, he was still raw to that very moment. It was first salt and then acid in the open wound of his mind, and there was no escaping it. Three men were dead, and worst of all, he was responsible for it.
It was a fact he tried to rationalize a few times at the scene, probably just a coping mechanism, he figured. A way for his mind to deal with, or dismiss the grief. Then he did it again while sitting in the car before he walked into the hotel. Paralysis had his body locked in his seat. His feet worked enough to use the pedals, and his arms moved the wheel during the drive back. The rest of it was on autopilot, just reacting to the stimuli, the lowest level of existence still considered intelligent. A new stimulus had his hand holding his cell phone, and the number entered, but not yet dialed. His thumb hit the button, and it rang through the speakers of the car. It was early, but at least the sun was up.
“He killed them,” Jordan said as soon as the phone stopped ringing.
“Who killed who?”, Orville asked, half asleep.
“Robert... I mean Walter, your Walter, my Robert, he killed them. All three of them,” stammered Jordan.
“Oh,” said Orville, startled. “So, he killed your victims? That is new—”
“Not them,” interrupted Jordan. “COPS! He killed COPS! Three of them!”, screamed Jordan. “And, it's my fault.” Jordan finally broke down and sobbed.
“Pocky cock. There is no way it is your fault.”
“Yes, it is! He warned me to not get in his way.”
“Stop right there.” Now it was Orville’s turn to interrupt Jordan. “Don’t do this to yourself. If you are going to do this, hand in your badge right now. You listen and you listen good.” The normally cheery cherub of a man now sounded like a stern English school master, and class was in session. “This is part of the j
ob you have to deal with. You don’t know when or where he is. You don’t know what is messing in his world. Hell, a traffic cop could pull someone over, and that be interference. In time, you will develop a sixth sense about this kind of thing. You will feel him. See signs he is around. Sometimes he will even flat out tell you. But, if you go around second guessing everything you are going to do in this job, wondering if he is around or not, you are going to get yourself or someone else killed in the line of duty. What happened sucks. There is no arguing with that. This could have happen without him, just the same. Don’t beat yourself up.”
“Did it ever happen to you?”, Jordan asked. He had heard the words Orville had said. That is to say, they had entered his ears. They were still sitting in the queue to be processed once his emotional state moved aside to allow rational thought back in.
“Yes, two that I know of. Several I suspect, but don’t know for sure, and I want you to keep this in mind. He tried to take credit for many that I know for a fact that weren’t him. The agent was over two hundred and fifty pounds and one bacon egg and cheese biscuit from a heart attack every day. It just happened to be the day he was following up on a tip that may have crossed who Walter, Robert, was using to do what he wanted. He does stuff to just mess with you. Part of his sick sense of humor. Jordan, tell me what happened.”
For the next thirteen minutes, Jordan recapped the details of the case. Calming down when recalling the facts. The shakes returned when he covered the conclusion of the chase.
“See, this isn’t your fault,” Orville explained. “First, you didn’t know he was still involved in this crime. Second, even if you did, how could you know which suspect or suspects were his tools. There were so many, and he didn’t give you any indication. You didn’t know until you saw him. And, then it was too late. Even then, remember, you have no way of knowing if he really caused it. According to you, they ran right out in the road, and never looked.” Jordan was about to interject another irrational response about how it was his fault when Orville continued. “Now, I see something else entirely that you are missing. He didn’t kill those officers. He actually saved one. You stopped when you saw him. If you hadn’t, you would be right there with them being picked up instead of making this call.”