Visions of Evil

by J. E. Neiman

  Chapter 29

  Phoenix, Arizona

  When Allie's plane touched down at Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport, she felt light-headed. She grabbed her bag from the overhead compartment, collected her leather-Hartmann suitcase from baggage claim and proceeded to the car rental agency. The sun blazed down and the wind blew hot.

  Allie started to open the Impala's door, but pulled back quickly. "My God, it's as hot as a curling iron." She opened the door with the edge of her blouse, greeted by a furnace blast of heat from inside the car. "Welcome to Phoenix," she sighed.

  She'd boarded the plane hungry but food would have to wait. It was already four o'clock and the rush-hour traffic had already started. Allie's five o'clock appointment with Sheriff Jon Zanita didn't seem possible. After an hour and a half of fighting stop and go traffic and a long detour, she finally stopped in front of the Maricopa County Sheriff's Headquarters. A gust of hot wind helped push her through the front door.

  A stocky woman sat at the front counter rummaging through a stack of files. A squeaky, wobbly ceiling fan, whipped papers to the floor.

  "Hi. Did I miss Sheriff Zanita?" Allie asked. She bent down, picked up several of the loose sheets on the floor and placed them back on the counter.

  "I'm Deputy Sheriff Bradley. Do you need to make a report?"

  "No. I have an appointment with Zanita at five o'clock. I'm a bit late, but the traffic…."

  The large woman chuckled and interrupted Allie, "Well, you know the shortest way to anyplace in Phoenix is under construction. Sorry, that's a joke around here." Sheriff Bradley paused. "I bet you're Miss Lewis, the psychic from Denver." She picked up a clipboard and handed it to Allie. "Sign in and I'll buzz Sheriff Zanita."

  Allie surveyed the room. She walked toward a wall of wanted posters and her gaze stopped on Jacob William Tansey.

  A vision snapped before her as she looked directly into the eyes of the man in the photo. Crickets joined in with a Mariachi band. "Por favor, tengo hambre," a little girl cried. A sneering Jacob Tansey grabbed the child.

  Allie felt a hand on her shoulder and spun around defensively.

  "Miss Lewis, the Sheriff will be here in a second." The woman handed her a glass. "Here's cold water. You look pale, Miss Lewis."

  Deputy Sheriff Bradley, a native-American with deep-set black eyes stood before her with a white plastic cup.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. You startled me. Thank you." Taking the cup, she swallowed the water. She walked to the counter and wrote down the words and images she had just seen.

  A friendly, deep voice called, "Hi Allie. How ya doing?" Sheriff Zanita clicked a button and a door opened near the counter. "Come on back into my office so we can talk. Afterwards, we'll grab dinner at Jose's next door. How's that sound?"

  Allie felt new pangs in her stomach. "Food sounds wonderful." She paused. "It's good to see you in person, Sheriff Zanita."

  "Hey call me Sheriff Jon, everyone does."

  They walked down a hallway and the Sheriff continued, "Did you know our county spreads over nine thousand square miles? We're bigger than many States. And, we have twenty-seven municipalities. How do you like those apples?" He laughed a deep belly laugh.

  Dizzy, Allie tried to focus on his words, but the images of Jake with the little girl in Mexico clouded the moment. Everything began to twist and turn, then went black….

  Chapter 30

  Monclova-Coahuila, Mexico

  After spending a week with the girl's mama, Jake had become infested with crabs. They were in his pubic hair, eyelashes, eyebrows, chest hair and scalp. He should have known better than to hole up with this filthy whore.

  The woman chuckled as she rubbed petroleum jelly on Jake's infected areas to suffocate the six-legged parasites, but with temperatures in the triple digits and his overly-productive sweat glands, it hadn't stopped the little devils from multiplying. He shuddered at the thought of the insect's crablike pincher claws grabbing at his hairs while they sucked blood and laid nits under his skin. The bitch found it all too amusing.

  Jake couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed the woman by the throat and slammed her body against the kitchen wall. "You did this to me."

  "No. No," she croaked. "usted . . . los trajo a mi casa."

  He squeezed her throat even tighter. "You lie. Your casa was already infested. "

  The woman somehow picked up a paring knife from a wobbly table nearby and made a feeble attempt to defend herself.

  He seized the piece of steel from her shaky hand and pressed the sharp point against her chest. Jake placed one hand on the whore's breasts and squeezed them roughly through her cheap satin negligee. She moaned but didn't move. Jake couldn't enjoy her misery, as the insects gnawed even more at his body.

  With a loud yell, he slammed the knife into her heart and twisted it. Warm blood spelled on his hand and squirted over him. He liked the way she became limp and perfectly still. A knife could do that. He pulled the blade out and wiped it clean on his jeans.

  Jake grinned. He knew that few people had the guts to use a blade against another living thing. More than any other weapon, it makes one aware of the fragility of flesh, the vulnerability of life. He'd never used one on a human before, but in Kansas, when Jake was eight or so, he had slashed open a pregnant dog's belly with a butcher knife. He had enjoyed feeling the heat escaping the wound.

  He dropped the woman to the floor, stood and turned slowly to make sure they were still alone.

  The Chiclets girl stood near the back door watching. She didn't scream or cry out. Her large brown eyes revealed no emotion as she stared at her mother on the floor. Jake started toward her but she spun around and fled.

  At the kitchen sink, he rinsed his face and hands and wiped them with a dirty towel that lay on the counter. After putting on clean clothes, he grabbed his duffel bag and hurried to a nearby pharmacy. He purchased tweezers and a shampoo loaded with pesticides, then hitched a ride to the center of Monclova, knowing that the next occupants in the back seat of the jalopy would soon be infected with crabs too.

  Jake checked into a hotel using the Canadian passport of Enrick Lefebvre that he'd lifted at the El Paso border. He couldn't pronounce the name let alone fake a French accent, but the Mexican at the front desk couldn't either.

  Inside his room, he doused himself with the chemical mixture, scrubbed and soaked in a tub of hot water. After he repeated the ceremony five times, his skin felt on fire. Then he leaned over a chipped bathroom sink and peered into a cloudy mirror to squeeze the nits out, one by one, from his eyebrows and eyelashes. At dawn, he collapsed onto the hotel bed but not until he laid clean towels on top of the bedding.

  He'd never been this weary. His eyes stung from the sunlight now shining through the curtain-less window. His mouth felt fuzzy and tasted like cardboard. There was an unpleasant film of tartar on his teeth. Jake's skin tingled and he still itched.

  He went to the window and peered to the street below. A young boy glanced up at him. The kid along with his itching, reminded Jake of the time he had come home from school with head lice. His mother was mortified. She had run to the kitchen for mayonnaise. Christ, she used that stuff for everything. She rubbed the greasy, smelly substance into his scalp and put a shower cap on top of his head. Three hours later, she rinsed his head with vinegar and something from the garage. Evidently, she destroyed the little buggers, as he didn't have them the next day.

  Now, Jake knew he should leave the area. It wasn't safe for him to hang around since he'd murdered the woman in a village nearby, even if she was just a whore. He needed to continue his journey to Monterey where he would steal another identity, credit cards and cash. The border at Laredo, Texas, with all of its drug cartel and smugglers, seemed to offer the best place for a white American tourist to cross into the United States. He could look and play that part easily. His mission to eliminate the psychic twins would happen soon. And, now he knew that killing a human with a knife was no big deal after all.

&nbs
p; Chapter 31

  1875-Empire, Colorado Territory

  I stumbled on a rock and fell to my knees. Sonny encircled me with his strong arms and gently pulled me to my feet.

  "Lulu says you clean-up. Then I hide you."

  He led me to the river's edge, and then disappeared into the darkness. I stood still, listening to men splash and shout downstream. A crescent moon allowed a bit of light on the water around me. I was alone as far as I could tell. Quickly, I removed my grungy torn clothes and stepped off the bank into the cold river.

  In a few minutes, I'd lathered my body with soap, rinsed, then dried myself with the inside of my old petticoats. Sonny returned just as I buttoned my last shoe.

  "Tay. . . ta. . .take this." He handed me a heavy leather coat. "Come," he demanded.

  "I'm not going with you," I said and started up the bank away from him and the campsite.

  Sonny grabbed my shoulders and marched me in front of him. "Ma. . .mom, tell me to hide you."

  "What? Lulu's your mom?" He didn't answer but now it all made sense, the way Lulu hovered over him at camp and how Sonny checked on her before he went to sleep every night. An image of this mother and son at birth filled my mind. I relaxed and allowed Sonny to direct me forward.

  "I . . . found a place." He led me up the backside of the rock cropping and over the top.

  Looking down we saw the tent glowing from the lantern inside. Mac was negotiating loudly, "Step right up, young man. Of course, you want a virgin. But first, a shot of whiskey and a friendly game of poker."

  Sonny led me down a few feet to a hollow in the rocks. I was terrified that we would dislodge a pebble onto the tent or even fall ourselves. But he guided me safely to a flat alcove about the size of my bed back home. The overhang above created a four-foot-high recess.

  "Stay . . . til I come for you," Sonny whispered. He turned and left me there.

  Chapter 32

  Phoenix, Arizona

  A flickering fluorescent light cast irregular shadows on the ceiling and walls of the narrow hallway. Allie struggled to analyze the patterns from the cool tile floor. Deputy Bradley's concerned raven-black eyes moved into her vision.

  Removing a wet towel from Allie's forehead, the deputy whispered over her shoulder, "Sheriff Jon, she's coming out of it. Wait to call an ambulance." To Allie, she said, "Miss Lewis, are you okay? You fainted."

  Allie sat up, and with the deputy's help, stood. "I'm fine. Sorry if I frightened you." Embarrassed, she pulled down her navy-blue tailored skirt. "I had a long day in Denver before I flew to Phoenix."

  "Hey. It's good to see you standing," Sheriff Jon said, as he hustled toward Allie. "You went down like a wet noodle." He touched her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "Think you should see a doctor?"

  "No. I forget to eat sometimes. I know better. Could we get something before going over the case?"

  "Sure, I'll grab the files, and we'll go next door for dinner"

  * * *

  Casa Jose's Restaurant occupied the bottom floor of an office building next door to the sheriff's headquarters. Desert murals painted on the walls and large, realistic saguaro cacti placed discerningly around the room, gave the dining room the ambiance of a peaceful desert night. Two skillets of steaming fajitas sizzled on Sheriff Jon and Allie's table.

  The sheriff wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Tell me how this psychic thing works. Do you dream things, have visions, or what?"

  Allie smiled. "Sometimes it may be a dream, or a nightmare. Other times I perceive active and past scenes, similar to a chopped-up movie. Often it's enough to help law enforcement agencies. Besides being a Special Agent for the FBI, I'm a consultant for the police and sheriff departments in Denver." She paused and blushed. "Sometimes, they call me their secret weapon."

  "Thanks for the explanation. I'm aware of your distinguished reputation. That's why I asked you to come." He rubbed at his bulbous nose before tipping his glass at Allie.

  "Keep that raspberry iced tea coming, Cindy," Sheriff Jon said, to the diminutive waitress as she removed empty plates from the table. "Put the bill on my tab." He turned back to Allie. "Would you look at these two cases? Or are you up to it?"

  "I'm fine. I already have information on the top one." She took the file from Sheriff Jon's hands and held it in front of her.

  "Christ, without even looking inside? What?"

  "I'm not familiar with Arizona, but I see broad, sandy desert plain where low mounds of volcanic boulders stand." Allie hesitated. "It's a remote area called Wool or something like that. It's covered with hundreds of rocks. Looks like Goliath threw them around. I see distinct writings, maybe even pictures, on them. Does that make sense?"

  Sheriff Jon leaned over the table. "Maybe. Anything else?"

  Allie touched her temples with her fingertips and closed her eyes. "Behind one tall, split-panel rock with drawings of a grid, stars and a sun, a man is dying from wounds. There's a river a few miles away."

  "Damn. That's the Painted Rocks about ninety miles southwest of here, near the Woolsey Peak Wilderness. It's remote and Gila River flows about three miles away." The sheriff handed Allie a photo. "Is this the man?"

  "I believe so."

  "That's Senator Wheat. I'll send a search and rescue team out there right now. Look at both of these files. I'll be right back." Sheriff Jon pushed his chair back abruptly, scraping the dark oak-wood floor and jumped from his seat.

  Allie opened the senator's file and gazed into the eyes of the man she had visualized. Images of two light-skinned men about the same height, hurried toward a beat-up white El Camino. On the rear window, she saw a swastika decal. The men had shot Senator Wheat in the back and right leg. Now, curled against the large split rock, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a key. With great effort, he scraped something into the soft rock. A rattlesnake crawled onto the senator's bloody leg.

  "Excuse me, more tea?" The waitress startled Allie. She flinched. "No, I've had enough. Is it okay if I sit here for a few minutes?"

  "Of course. It's a slow night."

  "Thanks."

  Sheriff Jon walked briskly toward Allie. "Okay, a search and rescue team plus one of our helicopters are on their way to the Painted Rocks. Get anything else?"

  Allie shared the images she had received as they left the restaurant together. "I'm sorry but I believe it's too late to save Senator Wheat, but tell the rescue team to look on the rock next to him. He etched something into it with a key. I believe it reads, 'Jane did it.' Who's Jane?"

  "That's his wife's name. They've been in a bitter divorce dispute. We'll get photos of the crime scene and the rock. I'm going out there right now."

  "Okay, I'm headed to my hotel. Call if you have any questions."

  Sheriff Jon reached to shake Allie's hand. "You should drive up to Sedona, relax and get some Red Rock energy. It's cooler there. You could use my family's vacation cabin on Oak Creek."

  "Sounds wonderful, but I need to get back and zero in on Jake Tansey. Keep in touch and thanks for dinner." Allie with keys in hand walked to where she had parked her rental car. Turning she said, "Oh, about that second file you handed me tonight. It's already solved and you knew it." She faked a frown and waved.

  * * *

  Sheriff Jon watched her get into her car and drive away. He jogged back into the headquarters. "If we find Senator Wheat tonight, I'll be a believer of Allison Lewis."

  "I heard that," Deputy Bradley said. "I think you'll be a believer, sheriff. A message came in a few seconds ago from the helicopter crew. They located a body with thermal infrared in the Painted Rock area. They're landing right now."

  "I'll be damned."

  Chapter 33

  1875-Empire, Colorado Territory

  A light breeze moaned through the night. Shadows danced across the tent thirty feet below. I swaddled myself in the leather coat Sonny had given me, lay down on my stomach and looked over the edge at the camp. It reminded me of when I'd peeked over the embankment at our
camp near Fort Wicked. I was a coward then but I didn't feel like one now.

  Mac, a Pied Piper, had lit torches making a bright path to the tent. I sensed tension and arousal buzzing through the men of Empire, waiting in line.

  "Patience, my friends. The night has just begun." Mac now sounded like a serious businessman. "Everyone will get their turn. If not this evening, tomorrow night. A good time for all."

  Sometimes, Mac's voice faded with the breeze and I couldn't hear his words. But the shadows inside the tent were easy to decipher. Anna, Kate, and even Lulu were giving their bodies to men they didn't know and probably would never see again, all to put money in Mac's pockets.

  "Young man," I heard Mac say, now in a fatherly voice. "I rescued this beautiful girl from a horrible situation in Oklahoma. I, being a Good Samaritan, am helping her reach San Francisco, where she will enter the nunnery for the holy church."

  To another, he said, "Friend, I can see how you are troubled by the harshness of life. I'll take your money, but it will only go to feed, clothe and keep these fine, vulnerable women safe from the wickedness of this world."

  I listened numbly as Mac wove webs of lies to increase the price for the girls and Lulu. A master of manipulation, he continued into the night handing off the girls to different men, but only if they paid heavily for the honor of sharing his whiskey. Some played poker with him. Many times, there were shouts of anger as they alleged he'd cheated. Mac would order the irate player off his premises.

  Sounds of groans, whimpers and a musky scent carried up to me on the breeze, which lifted the edges of the tent like skirts and provided quick peeks inside. I felt sick and shuddered at the thought of another night of this hell for Lulu and the girls. How could I stop this madness for all of them and save myself too? The question resounded inside my head until I heard a voice say, "Leave." But in the darkness, crouched within rocks above the camp, I felt like a fox with my leg in the jaws of a steel trap. I didn't dare move.