Death Prophets

by Steve Armstrong

  Crane opened the door a few moments after she rang the doorbell. He looked the Professor type, as he wore glasses, an oxford shirt, and khakis.

  “Please have a seat,” he said, gesturing to his well-appointed living room. Felicia sat in a very comfortable dark red chair across from Crane who sat in a recliner. “So you want to ask me about my old friend, do you?”

  “Yes, Dr. Crane. When I was working on a story, I came across the break-in at Stevenson Industries and was hoping you could tell me a bit more about Dr. Banks.”

  “Please call me Emmet,” he said with a smile, which turned flat before he spoke again. “Jerry was a brilliant mind. Just brilliant. We met at Med school, and nothing seemed hard for him.”

  “What did Dr. Banks do after Med school?” Felicia leaned forward with her notepad at the ready.

  “Well, like the rest of us, he did his internship and fellowship. By the time he finished with that, he moved more toward the field of medical research. Told me he was going to cure cancer, and I actually believed him. If anyone was going to cure cancer, I would have bet on Jerry.”

  “What do you know about Banks’ work at Stevenson Industries?”

  “They actually hired him to do cancer research. But then Barrett got sick and that changed everything.” Crane’s gaze wandered off to the nearest window. “Jerry and I got along great, but he was an arrogant man. That’s what everyone thinks about doctors, right? That we can solve any problem. And for a while, Jerry was all about the glory. But when Barrett got sick, nothing else mattered. He shifted his entire attention away from cancer research to find a cure for CBD.”

  “Were you aware that Dr. Banks was testing people even though he hadn’t been approved for clinical trials yet?”

  Crane looked down at his feet. “Yes, I was. But how did you know?”

  “Patricia Oliver, the widow of one of the patients involved in the study, told me.”

  “I never knew the particulars. One time when we were having lunch, Jerry told me. I think because he felt guilty. Normally, Jerry would’ve never done something like that—he was too ethical. But because of Barrett, he was willing to take the risk.”

  Felicia scrawled some notes on the pad then looked up at Crane again. “If Banks had started human trials, do you think Stevenson would’ve known?”

  “It’s hard for me to imagine that he wouldn’t. Stevenson took a vested interest in Jerry’s work. Even if Jerry slipped the trials by somehow, it would’ve been hard to keep something like that a secret for long.”

  “Do you have any idea if Banks was making progress or not?”

  Crane inhaled deeply. “He wouldn’t have done any human trials if he wasn’t confident. But Jerry didn’t mention any specific gains to me during that time.”

  “Did he talk to you a lot about his work?”

  Crane leaned back and crossed his legs. “Not the particulars. I only saw him once more before he died. He was under so much pressure because of Barrett. But the last time he saw me, he told me some of his trial patients were suffering some concerning side effects. He seemed really bothered by that.”

  “Did he mention what the side effects were?”

  “No. Some of his reluctance to talk about his work might have been to protect me. The less I knew, the better for me.”

  “Did he seem to think the patients had shown any improvement?”

  “Didn’t say. But that in itself is probably not a good thing.”

  “What happened to the research after Banks died?”

  “I don’t know.” Crane sighed and patted his hand on the armrest of his chair. “All I do know is that Barrett didn’t receive any of the experimental treatment.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Poor kid. Started deteriorating not long after they buried his father. You’ve probably never seen someone with Chapman-Bower’s Disease, have you? It’s not a pretty way to die. Felt so bad for the kid that he had to go through that without his father. Felt bad for Claudia, too. Seemed like way too much suffering for one person to endure.”

  Felicia jotted a few more things down in her notebook. “What about the investigation into Banks’ death? To your knowledge, did they have any leads as to who did it?”

  “Not to my knowledge. For a while, I waited for some new detail to come up, for some kind of justice to come. But whoever did it must have slipped through the cracks.”

  “What about the test patients? What happened to them?”

  “No idea. I assume, eventually, they suffered the same fate as Barrett. Their best hope was a quick end.”

  “Is there anyone who would know more about the test patients or what happened to his research?”

  The retired professor shook his head. “Sorry. No one that I know of. Maybe some of his co-workers. But I think Jerry did most of this by himself.”

  Felicia placed her pen down on her notebook and closed it shut. “Thanks for your time, Emmet.”

  “You’re welcome.” Crane propped his head up with his arm and gazed out the window. “You know, talking about Jerry after all these years makes me realize how quickly we’re forgotten—even the best and brightest of us. For a while, Jerry was a superstar. But who even remembers him now? And it will happen to all of us. Me and you included.”

  Felicia stood up and put her jacket back on. Crane turned to face her. “I’m sorry. This is why people don’t visit old men. We just depress everyone. But when Jerry died, that’s when I realized how fleeting this all is.”

  Felicia zipped up her jacket. “I guess that’s how we learn to treasure the time we have, right?”

  Crane chuckled. “I’m afraid I never was able to apply that lesson well. I think that’s why we avoid death, as humans. It’s hard to live with the reality of how temporary everything we possess really is. Maybe you’ll do better with it than I have.”

  “I’ll try,” Felicia said, smiling weakly. When she left, Crane was still staring out the window, perhaps searching for time lost long ago.

  As Felicia headed back to Woodside, she digested what Crane had told her. Unfortunately, the man possessed little specific information that would propel their investigation forward. However, the prospect of side effects for the test patients intrigued her. That fact opened up new possibilities of corporate cover-up or revenge by a disappointed patient or his family members. Whatever the case, Felicia needed to find someone else who could fill in that part of the timeline. Maybe Matt Harrison would have better luck.

  40

  “Great. So now we have more people possibly dying?” Felicia asked, holding a copy of Grace’s updated sketch while she sat at John’s table.

  “Maybe,” Matt said, sitting on Felicia’s left. “It’s hard to know how all of this works.”

  John rubbed the stubble on his uncharacteristically scruffy chin. “What did we learn today?”

  “Not enough,” Felicia said. “We still don’t know the names of the other victims Richard Anderson dreamed about or the other person in the picture.”

  John turned to Matt. “Any luck tracking down those people?”

  “Not yet. A photo is only a little better to go on than Grace’s sketch. Without a name or address, I’m not even sure what trees I should be barking up.”

  “What about you, Felicia? What did Emmet Crane tell you?” John asked.

  “Not much. But Dr. Banks did mention some side effects to his treatment. That could at least explain why someone killed Dr. Banks.”

  Matt leaned back and angled his legs to the side. “Hmm, a corporate cover-up, maybe?”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Felicia said.

  “I suppose that’s possible. Why not patient revenge, though?” John asked.

  “Who do you think is more likely to engineer the deaths of five people—assuming they’re all connected and none of them died from natural causes—an evil corporation or someone dying from a rare, genetic disorder?” Matt asked.

  “Obviously, Stevenson Industries had more t
o lose. But if it was them, then why didn’t they kill the fifth guy in the picture?” John asked.

  “How do we know they didn’t? Just because he didn’t show up in Anderson’s dreams? We can’t exactly use those as proof of anything,” Felicia said.

  “Anyway, what’d you find out?” Matt asked his brother.

  John shifted in his seat. “Well, someone matching Josh Williams’ description did talk to the guy who died in Windfall. They left a bar together. But no one saw them after that. And there is another guy who got arrested in Windfall for domestic abuse. I checked in on him, but other than being a complete tool, he was okay and hadn’t seen Williams.”

  “So we have to wait until Williams does something?” Matt drummed the table with his fingers. “By the time we find out, he’s going to be long gone.”

  “Maybe so,” John said. “But I did hear back about that incident in India involving Thomas Wilson’s partner that I told you about. According to the American Consulate in Mumbai, the Mumbai police found a dead American man—white male, in his 30s. But by the time the consulate got someone down there to check on him, the body was gone.”

  “So someone from Stevenson Industries got there first. Probably paid off the local medical examiner and got the body back to the states on their own,” Matt said.

  “But that isn’t it,” John said. “It turns out there was another possible American body in the morgue at the same time from the same incident. That one got signed out before being identified, too.”

  “Another body?” Matt asked. “Any idea who?”

  “Only that it was a Caucasian female,” John replied.

  Felicia rubbed her arms. Without Julia in the house, the temperature had taken a precipitous dip. She pulled her coat over her shoulders. “When did Thomas Wilson’s partner die?”

  John consulted his phone for the date. “Looks like last June.”

  “I think the time frame would fit then,” she said softly as if she was talking to herself.

  “What time frame?” John asked.

  “I think I know why Thomas Wilson and his partner were in Mumbai,” Felicia said, much louder this time. “One thing I did for Stevenson Industries was pursue leads on the internet, looking for paranormal type events. Most of what I read wasn’t credible: just isolated people posting anecdotal stuff on message boards and forums. But I did find one particular incident in Mumbai that at least seemed to be experienced by a few people. It wasn’t a lot to go on, but I passed it along to the powers that be.”

  “Passed what along?” Matt asked.

  “Some American expat in India thought he saw someone move objects without touching them.”

  Matt straightened up in his seat. “And you didn’t think that was relevant before?”

  The reporter rolled her eyes at Matt. “Do you know how many crazy stories I chased down? People who claimed that either they or someone they knew or had seen once could spontaneously start fires or had psychic abilities or could move objects with their minds?” Felicia swept her hair back once more before giving up and tying her hair into a quick ponytail. “I’m pretty sure I had claims of telekinesis in each continent and dozens overall.”

  John stood up and began to pace around his living room. “Any chance you remember some of the details from the Indian telekinesis lead?”

  “I literally worked hundreds of leads. Most of them had no corroboration. We usually wanted video or at least a couple of different witnesses before we sent people in. As far as I remember, this one wasn’t corroborated beyond a few people witnessing it—so no video or any other evidence. So like on any other lead, I put together a profile of what happened and what the alleged person looked like. That was usually as far as I went. For me, it was an easy way to make money. I almost felt bad, because so little of what I found seemed relevant or actionable.”

  Walking back into the dining room, John leaned against a chair. “You said most of what you investigated was on the internet. Do you think you could find that information again?”

  “Maybe. Why?”

  “What if there was someone with telekinetic abilities they were tracking? Maybe when you passed along those profiles, Stevenson Industries sent people in to investigate.”

  “But we’re pretty sure Josh Williams was never in India. Didn’t you say that when you checked into him, he didn’t even have a passport?” Felicia asked.

  “He didn’t. But maybe it wasn’t him in India.”

  Matt narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Are you saying there’s another one of them out there like Josh Williams?”

  “Maybe. If there can be one, why can’t there be another? Who knows, maybe Stevenson Industries created these people somehow,” John said.

  “That’s a leap,” Matt said.

  John nodded in agreement. “I know. But we might be in the eleventh hour here, and until we get some hard evidence, we might have to take some leaps.”

  “But does knowing there’s a second telekinetic out there even bring us any closer to solving this mystery? The only thing it would explain is India,” Felicia said.

  “True. But it would be another piece of the puzzle. In the meantime, let’s look under the rocks we’ve already looked under. Matt, why don’t you visit Patricia Oliver again. Really push her on the side-effects. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk about them before.” Matt nodded, despite the fact his brother had essentially just given him orders. “Felicia, see if you can find any of the old evidence for the telekinetic cases you worked on. And I’ll check back in with our domestic abuser, see if Josh Williams has paid him a visit, yet.”

  Matt cleared his throat. “Can I ask one question? What if we do find Williams? What do we do then? If he’s as powerful as you say he is, we can’t just slap him in handcuffs.”

  John looked at Felicia. “How did Stevenson Industries capture him?”

  “Taser and a syringe full of tranquilizer to the neck. But they had the advantage of surprise. Williams was distracted at the moment.” Felicia’s voice trailed off as she finished her statement. She had been the distraction.

  “Remember that farmer outside of Woodside that Dad’s friends with, the one from his church?” Matt asked. John nodded. “Remember how he dealt with out of control bulls? He had that giant rifle that shot tranquilizers…”

  “Tranquilizers aren’t a sure thing,” John replied. “We’d have to get the dosage right to work, and even then, it wouldn’t immediately knock him out.”

  “Well, maybe someone could get behind him and tase him after he’s shot,” Matt suggested. “It would be a tag team effect.”

  “What happens when he wakes up?” Felicia asked, peering at John out of the corners of her eyes.

  “Well, we could just shoot him. Then we don’t have to worry about what to do with him. That would be my vote,” Matt replied.

  “We’ll have to figure out that last part. At least for now, this can be our plan,” John said. “Can you see if the farmer will let you borrow the gun?”

  “What should I tell him it’s for?” Matt asked.

  “I don’t know. Be creative; you’re good at that,” John said.

  Matt slapped his hand against the table and got up. “Okay. I’m off then.”

  “Where are you going?” Felicia asked as Matt walked toward the door.

  “I’m going to check in on Grace, make sure she’s okay. See ya.”

  He opened the door and walked through in one fluid motion. Felicia watched him leave.

  “He’s not falling for her, is he?” Felicia asked.

  John, still leaning against the chair, shrugged. “He doesn’t tell me things like that.”

  Now that Matt had departed, Felicia rose as well. She put her arms all the way through the sleeves of her coat. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gathered the rest of her belongings and passed by John.

  “If you want, I can stay close to your uncle, make sure nothing happens to him,” John said, without turning around.

  �
�That seems like a waste. You should track down Josh Williams, instead. Besides, you can’t watch my uncle all the time, especially when he’s at work.”

  Felicia slipped on her shoes which she had left by the door.

  “You should probably stay clear of him, too. Just in case.”

  “I’ve been staying clear of him for awhile now,” she said, zipping up her coat.

  “I know. But you still love him. And I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.”

  With her shoes now on, Felicia looked back at Harrison. “John, by now you should realize that when people tell me not to do something, it makes me want to do it even more. Goodnight.”

  Now alone, John considered the various disparate threads of the case that he hoped would tie together soon. He checked his watch. Julia would be home soon. He moved to the thermostat and turned the temperature up.

  41

  Matt and Grace sat in his car, parked outside Jack Walton’s regal home. The inside was dark and no one had answered the doorbell, even though it was 8 p.m.

  “How long are we going to wait here?” Grace asked.

  “Just a little bit longer.” Matt rubbed his hands together. The temperature outside had dipped below thirty and it was getting harder to stay warm.

  “Maybe we should go visit him at his office,” Grace suggested.

  “We’d never get in there unless he wanted to meet with us. If he doesn’t come back soon, we’ll just try to come back later.”

  Grace leaned her head against the window and watched the house. As Matt searched for another topic to occupy them, a pair of headlights shone into their car. Through his rearview mirror, Matt saw a silver Audi pull into the driveway.

  “Okay, here we go.” He turned to Grace. “Are you ready for this?”

  She nodded. Matt opened his door and got out of the car. Once outside, Grace walked around the car and stood next to Matt. She clutched the sketch in her hand, prepared to show this man she had never met evidence of his demise.

  Though the automatic garage door had been lifted, the Audi didn’t park in the garage. Instead, the driver got out of the car and observed his two visitors for a moment.