The Immortal Gene

by Jonas Saul

“You’re in pain now, but it’ll subside.”

  She screamed louder.

  He smiled, knowing his smile lacked enthusiasm due to fatigue. “You’re a lucky girl, Megan Radcliffe. I’m sure you will have at least one orgasm a day for the next year—wait, I should say, one orgasm a day for the rest of your life.”

  He barked a short laugh at his own joke, then suppressed a yawn, a hand over his mouth.

  Megan twisted to her side, examining the room. She turned and started to crawl for the door.

  “No, no, my sweet little toy. There’s no escaping here. You’re mine until you leave this planet.” He started to close the door. “You’re all mine, wifey.”

  When the door clicked and the lock snapped in place, it held the sound of finality. It gave him a sense of closure. This deed was done, it was over. He was safe once again. The police wouldn’t come and cart him off like they had to his father. Edwin was a thinking man’s man. Even if he made a mistake, it mattered little because he was free and clear.

  Of course that still involved one telephone call. One meeting.

  But that was the easy part. The hard part was done.

  He climbed the stairs to his bedroom, the house as silent as a crypt. Megan was probably screaming and pounding on the door to be let out, but he couldn’t hear a thing.

  The joy overwhelmed him in that moment and he shivered.

  “I love being me,” he whispered. “There’s nothing better than being me.”

  His sleep was fitful, with dreams of men in Armani suits tearing him apart.

  Edwin woke in a cold sweat, wondering what had gone wrong, waiting to be rended asunder.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Kirk pulled up to the Radcliffe’s house and jumped out of the car the second it stopped moving. Despite the fact Jake had a jacket on, he kept the heat up, the vents aimed at him. To Kirk’s credit, he hadn’t complained for the fifteen minutes it took to get there.

  Once Kirk had walked away from the car, Jake sat by himself for a moment, watching the flurry of people coming and going, listening to the tic of the engine as it cooled.

  The murder hadn’t taken place at the Radcliffe house, so only a few officers combed the grounds. People from last night’s party were being interviewed as detectives attempted to put the pieces together. The process, the investigation, the paperwork, something Jake was all too familiar with.

  Kirk talked to a uniformed officer at the front door. After a moment, he turned and gestured for Jake to come.

  Jake waited another heartbeat until the sun broke through a smattering of clouds, then opened the door and stepped out, enjoying its rays.

  He would do this exercise with his old partner because Kirk would help him with his problem. Kirk had resources that Jake didn’t have. He would do this because it was the right thing to do. But he would do this because a part of him couldn’t deny how good it felt to be back in play, to be walking a crime scene, to be doing something.

  At the front door, Kirk pulled Jake inside the house and gestured toward an empty alcove.

  “Apparently,” Kirk started, wrapping an arm around Jake’s shoulders, “no one saw either Megan or Terry Radcliffe leave the house. The kids were the last ones to see their mother when they were picked up to go to their grandparents’ house. They’re pulling Megan’s and Terry’s cell phone records as we speak.”

  “Then why are we here?” Jake asked. “There’s nothing to go on right now. Let these guys handle the details of interviewing witnesses, tracking records, fingerprinting, making lists of the party guests and so on. Is someone specifically asking you to work this case?” He shook off Kirk’s arm. “Why are we here?”

  Kirk shrugged. “Don’t really know. Let’s just look around, offer a thought or two, then go to the murder scene, evaluate and leave.”

  “And food. I want meat. I’m hungry. You promised lunch.” Jake felt like a whiny child.

  Kirk slapped Jake’s arm as he stepped away.

  “You’ll get your meat,” he said.

  Jake headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms. He entered the master bedroom, did a quick scan of the furniture, looked out the window at the yard, then moved into the kids’ rooms. Minutes later in the kitchen, he took in the smells, the aura of the home. Multiple people had visited last night and now at least a dozen more people had roamed the premises.

  But through all that, he detected one familiar smell.

  He opened the back door and moved outside. On the back patio, most of the scents wafted away with the breeze. Back inside, he meandered through the uniformed and plainclothes cops, diverting his eyes from their strange or awkward glances, and exited the house at the front door. He gravitated to a bench on the side of the front lawn and sat to wait for Kirk.

  There was nothing here for him except that one familiar scent. One scent he couldn’t place. This ability was too new for him to be able to really own it yet. He was confident that in time he would be better equipped to manage the scents he took in, logging them in a part of his reptilian brain for later retrieval.

  “Let’s hit it,” Kirk shouted to him as he stepped out of the house.

  Inside the car, Kirk started away from the Radcliffe’s house without Jake identifying the scent. He had no clue as to who he could’ve come into contact with that would’ve been here at the party.

  Unless it was one of the four punks who had broken into his house. But he dismissed that thought as soon as it popped up. He knew their smells. It wasn’t them.

  Maybe he’d bumped into Megan or her husband at the grocery store in Novar. Maybe she worked there for all he knew. During lunch, he’d tell Kirk to see what he thought.

  If the scent was important, then maybe, just maybe, Jake would be key in helping to solve this case.

  For now, he would log that smell and wait until it came up again. Kirk would be not only the first person he would tell—he would be the only person he would tell.

  There was no way anyone would understand that Jake could smell people with his tongue as good as, or better, than any dog.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Kirk parked on the shoulder of the road six cars back from the crime scene. White walls had been erected around Terry Radcliffe’s body in a makeshift lab that billowed in the light wind. Crime scene techs were already scouring Terry’s car while gloved officers examined the nearby terrain for any further evidence.

  “You coming out?” Kirk asked. “Or should I leave the car on, the heater blasting.”

  Jake studied the investigators milling about inside the cordoned-off area.

  “I smelled something at the house.”

  Kirk turned in his seat to look at Jake.

  “Like what?”

  “Someone.”

  “Someone? Really? A lot of people smell, Jake.”

  “No, I smelled someone I know. Someone I’ve smelled before.”

  Kirk watched Jake with inquisitive eyes.

  “Like with your new abilities?” he asked softly.

  Jake nodded. “The person I detected wasn’t in the Radcliffe house when we were there. That person was there last night.”

  “Who?”

  Jake shrugged and turned to meet his partner’s eyes. “I don’t know. But it’s someone I’ve been around since coming out of the coma. What’s confusing me is I don’t have a process to log scents, or to memorize who smells like what. I can just smell something and remember that scent.”

  “Not good enough for the courts, but good enough for me.” Kirk tapped the steering wheel for a moment while he stared out the windshield. “Any chance it’s random and means nothing?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Any chance it’s our killer and you’re onto something?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then get out of my car and go smell this crime scene. If you detect the same smell, you’re onto something. If not, then it probably doesn’t matter.”

  Jake gestured at the men outside. “The wind is ruff
ling their hair, the walls of the tarp. With this much wind, the smell will be gone.”

  “And if it isn’t?” Kirk asked. “You won’t know until you try.” Kirk opened his door and stopped to look back. “You coming?”

  Jake followed Kirk to the officer with the murder log. Time to sign in and speak with the officer in charge.

  Once they got the all-clear to examine the scene and the body, Kirk moved to look at Terry. Jake wandered over to Terry’s car. He moved around the car, his mouth open, taking in the air, the scents.

  Lavender air freshener. Terry’s cologne, Megan’s perfume. The smell of children came from the backseat. Someone had recently spilled chocolate milk on the floor in the back.

  He pulled his head out of the backseat and moved to smell the trunk. Oil scents wafted up, along with the rubber of the spare tire. Gasoline was evident and a light mildewy smell.

  There was nothing similar to the smell he detected in the Radcliffe house.

  When he straightened up, a man in a Tommy Hilfiger suit was staring at him from the opposite side of the car.

  Jake closed his mouth.

  “You okay, buddy?” the man asked.

  Jake nodded.

  “You the guy with Kirk?”

  He nodded again.

  They looked at each for a few more seconds, then Hilfiger turned away. It was obvious he’d been watching Jake’s process, sniffing the car, mouth wide, tongue sticking out to get all the scents.

  It was weird to have someone watching him, but embarrassment didn’t come into it. If he caught the murderer because he smelled him out of hiding, it didn’t matter how many people watched him sniff with his tongue.

  He stepped away from the car and moved closer to the shoulder. Something crackled under his shoe. He looked down to see a small black piece of plastic. He bent to pick it up, knowing he shouldn’t be touching it without a glove on.

  The small plastic chunk denoted no weather damage. It hadn’t been lying in the road long. He brought it to his nose and smelled deep, his mouth slightly open so it didn’t look weird to casual observers.

  Metallic smell, like it was from something electronic. The hint of human oil on it, but he couldn’t tell if it was male or female. He needed more.

  Kirk called his name from the other side of Terry’s car. They were done here already. It was time to go.

  Jake dropped to the ground. Tiny bits of black plastic converged in one area, so small they were barely detectable. He slowly moved his eyes toward the shoulder of the road and noticed another piece of plastic in the small stones that made up the shoulder.

  “Jake?” Kirk said behind him. “We’re done here. They’ve got it under control.”

  Jake stayed on his haunches, examining the ground. He edged closer to the shoulder, closer to slightly larger pieces of plastic.

  “Jake? Let’s go.” Kirk stepped around him. “Unless you’re onto something?”

  Without preamble, Jake picked up the largest piece of black plastic in the small stones and examined it. Then he brought it to his mouth.

  “Jake? What is it?”

  “Cell phone pieces. Someone smashed one of the Radcliffe’s cell phones into the cement over there,” he pointed, “and kicked the rest of the pieces into these shrubs over here. This piece”—he held up the tiny black plastic chunk for Kirk to see— “is from a Nokia or a Blackberry.”

  Kirk took the piece and held it up. He examined the ground where Jake had pointed, then straightened.

  “Hey, Brian,” he called to the Hilfiger-suited man. “Got one of their cell phones here.”

  Hilfiger—Brian—came over and Kirk handed him the piece of black plastic.

  “You’ll find what’s left of the phone in the bush there. Jake showed me that the phone was broken here”—Kirk pointed— “and shoved over this way.”

  “Wow,” Brian said, shaking his head. “I don’t know how my guys missed that.”

  “Very small pieces,” Jake whispered as he rose to his feet.

  He waited a moment, nodded at Brian, then headed for Kirk’s car. Less than a minute later, Kirk joined him in the car.

  “You okay, Jake?” Kirk asked.

  Jake stared out the side window, watching the breeze spin the leaves on the trees into a frenzy.

  “Jake?”

  “Yeah, just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “I know who that smell belongs to now.”

  Kirk shifted in his seat. “You do?”

  Jake turned to his partner. “Yeah, but it doesn’t make sense.”

  “Why not? I’m not following you.”

  “It’s that guy we bumped into yesterday at the liquor store. The medical examiner. He’s all over this crime scene and the Radcliffe house.”

  Kirk frowned. “That’s impossible.” He scrunched up his brow. “Really?” Kirk stared at nothing through the windshield. “Sure, we saw him in town, and he could’ve been at the party, but—”

  Kirk’s cell phone rang. He brought it to his ear.

  “Detective Aiken here.” He waited a moment, cast a glance at Jake, then said, “Okay. When?” Another moment, then, “Got it. On our way.” He hung up.

  “That was the strangest call ever,” Kirk said.

  “How so?” Jake asked.

  “That was Edwin Gavin, the medical examiner you were just talking about. He’s in Toronto, at his office. He’s apparently discovered something and claims I have to see it immediately. I’m supposed to be at his office by six this evening. But what’s really strange is that I’m supposed to bring you, too. Why you?”

  Jake eyed his old partner, taking in his words.

  “He was here yesterday,” Jake said. “I guarantee it. He is a part of this investigation somehow and he wants you to come to Toronto to absolve himself or admit his guilt. Either way, going to meet him is the right thing to do as it forwards this case. The way I see it, you have no choice and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “What about lunch?”

  “We can eat in the car.”

  Kirk started the car and pulled away. Once they were on Highway 11 heading south toward Toronto, Kirk turned to Jake.

  “Could he have done something he shouldn’t have?” Kirk asked. “Could Edwin have been thwarting Detective Joslin from the beginning? He’s the one who handles and oversees all the autopsies on the BEK killer case. This could be huge.”

  “All I know, Kirk, is that Edwin was here yesterday. When he was buying alcohol, he seemed off somehow. He was at the Radcliffe house last night and his scent is on that small piece of plastic on the shoulder of the road by Terry Radcliffe.” He cleared his throat. “If you want my opinion, treat Edwin as a suspect and enter his office prepared to arrest him.”

  “How? On the evidence that you smelled him? No one would enforce that. Sorry, Jake, I know you’re trying to help, but I’ll need something more concrete.”

  “Something tells me we’re heading to something more concrete. Whatever’s waiting at Edwin’s office will offer clarity. He was here last night and what I detected on that plastic wasn’t just his scent—it was his nervous scent, his fear.” Jake turned to Kirk as he drove. “Edwin was afraid and did something out here and now he wants to talk to you about it. Don’t worry, we’ll learn what he did before the day is over.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Kirk flicked his emergency lights and dropped the accelerator down.

  As the car shot forward to over a hundred and fifty kilometers an hour, Jake turned the heater a little higher.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Edwin set down the cell phone. He didn’t want to touch it again. It was almost over, wasn’t it? He suspected Kirk and coma man would know he was a part of whatever ambush Adam had planned for the two detectives. He was the one who had summoned them to Toronto, knowing they were driving down from Huntsville.

  It was reckless to enter into this kind of arrangement with a man like Adam, but Ed
win had been left with no other choice.

  It was even more reckless to set up this meeting without knowing Adam’s plan. If the man meant to take out both Kirk and Jake, Edwin would be protected. Unless Kirk told someone else that Edwin had called him to his Toronto office. Then, when two seasoned detectives went missing and were later found murdered, people would turn to him. The ensuing investigation would include phone records. The call he’d just made to Kirk would come up and he needed a reason for having made it.

  Edwin rubbed his face with both hands and grunted. All this because he hadn’t followed his normal Gathering routine. Deviation from the routine wouldn’t happen again. It wouldn’t even enter his mind.

  He had a few hours until Kirk and Jake entered his office. Adam had assured him they would be dealt with and then their arrangement would end, leaving Edwin with Megan in his basement.

  Then, finally, life could return to normal. Married life was good for Edwin. They said married men live longer and Edwin planned on living a very long time.

  He rose from the desk in his home office, made a cup of coffee in the kitchen and started downstairs. Megan might want some company. He should check her broken hand. See how swollen it was. With that kind of break, bones twisted up, she might be useless to him for a while.

  He entered the code on the keypad and waited for the audible click of the door’s lock disengaging. The bookcase slid away from the wall. Edwin stepped back and peeked inside the soundproof safe room. He admired the work Safe Roomz Inc. had done. Silently, he thanked them for their professionalism and expertise.

  Megan lay on the bed, her broken wrist dangling over the edge, as if she was trying to keep it as far away from her as possible. Her fingers and knuckles were large, grotesquely swollen, a purplish red, matching the swelling on her face.

  “Oh my,” he said in a breathless whisper. “What have we here?”

  Megan rolled sideways and glared at him.

  “I’m going to kill you,” she said, each word spoken through a clenched jaw, teeth tight together, barely moving her lips.