by Adira August
“Interview three.” He looked up from some paperwork on his desk. “Walk-in. Says he’s got something on the Red Rocks case. That’s yours, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
VanDevere peered around Hunter. “Who’s that who doesn’t want me to see him?”
Hunt stepped aside. “Detective Merisi, on special assignment to my team.”
Merisi took a step into the room.
“Any use?” VanDevere asked.
“Bit salty still, but he’s a keeper.”
“Report back before you leave.” A dismissal.
Hunter led Merisi across the bullpen, looking grim.
“He hates fags, you know,” Mike said sotto voce.
“What? Oh. Yeah. That’s not our problem,” Hunter answered.
Merisi looked outraged. “How is homophobia not our problem? It’s everybody’s-
“-Shut up.” Hunter cut him off. “Our problem is he’s a control freak, nosy as hell, and interview three is wired.”
Merisi looked appalled. “He can watch?”
“Picture and sound right from his desktop.”
“But the whole point of the unit is to operate with complete confidentiality.”
“Yeah.”
Merisi put a hand out to stop him. “Hang on. That’s not the only problem.” He bobbed a head toward the door to interview three. A door with a window.
“That’s Leon.”
“Giant cock Leon?”
“Right. … Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“It just occurred to me—is that discoverable?”
“Don’t see how you could miss it. C’mon.” Hunt crossed the bullpen. “You take the lead; he knows you.” He looked around to make sure no one was in earshot. “This is what you do.”
“MR. HUGHES, we meet again,” Merisi said to Leon when he entered interview three. He smiled and offered his hand. Leon looked suspicious but half-rose and shook. Hunter came in, closing the door behind him. He moved to the corner of the small room and leaned against the wall.
Mike sat down and crossed an ankle over the other knee, leaning back in his chair. “I really appreciate all your help today. What can I do for you?”
Leon’s face was tight, his arms folded across his chest. He glanced at Hunter.
“Oh, sorry. This is my boss, Lieutenant Hunter Dane. But I guess you’re familiar, in a way.”
Hunter leaned over and offered a hand. “Nice to meet you Mr. Hughes. Mike tells me we owe you.”
The cops both went quiet with pleasantly interested looks on their faces. Leon rubbed his palms on the tops of his thighs.
“I need to tell you about what you’re investigating. About-”
“-One second, please,” Merisi stopped him with a hand up. “If you have some information, we appreciate hearing it. Obviously I won’t advise you of your rights, we only do that with suspects. But,”—Mike leaned forward—“you could incriminate yourself without knowing something you did aided a crime. Tell you what”—Merisi stood and opened the door—“let’s walk over to our team offices. We can chat on the way. If you still want to.”
Leon was thoroughly confused. “You want me to leave and go someplace else with you?”
“Our offices are a lot more comfortable. The Lieutenant and I will be by the elevators if you want to come along.”
The cops left.
Leon followed before they got out of the bullpen.
“OH MY GOD. … Oh my God! … Oh… my … God!”
“Carol, could you move back and not exclaim in shock in my ear?” Cam asked.
“This isn’t shock. I - it’s - it’s - oh my GOD! How did you find this?”
“Freedom of Information Act is a wonderful thing,” he said absently, downloading another PDF.
“Project Skytracker? Like it was some high school science project about weather or meteors or something?”
“Back further.”
“My lab’s little, Cam. Get it up on the monitor.”
He sighed. “Help me carry my stuff, Asher? The diva has spoken.”
IT WAS A THREE BLOCK walk to 440 Dunton Street on a bright Spring day. Daffodils bobbed their heads in sidewalk planter boxes. A teen-aged girl put ad sheets under windshield wipers in a parking lot. Giant pinwheels spun in the breeze in front of an art gallery.
Leon gazed about while they strolled along. “You got the time?”
“Fourteen-forty-five,” Hunter answered.
“Okay.” He looked around at kid and flowers and buildings and blue sky. Then he looked straight ahead. “I killed that man you found in the cart. Ms. Houston lets us use the carts any time, doesn’t keep track. Didn’t know anything ‘bout it. Leave her be and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Our offices are right over there”—Hunter pointed—“I’ll introduce you and you can tell us whatever you want.” He sent a text as they crossed the street to the building entrance.
“You’re not surprised,” Leon said.
“I’m surprised anytime someone comes forward on their own. But I’m not surprised it’s you. You were most likely, then the rest of the men. One second.”
Merisi got the door because Hunter was on his cell. “Gordi in? … “It’s Dane. Listen, I need you to join a meeting in about five minutes. … Yeah, you do. From your office … Okay.”
CAM HAD THE PDF up, but he’d kept working and no single page stayed up for long.
Twee made rapid notes while providing unnecessary commentary, since Cam was reading as he went.
“So, from 1975 to ‘91, this secret project studied psychics.” She turned to Asher who sat between them, looking from one to the other. “Did you ever hear of this, Asher?”
He shook his head. “Minnie ran a thing like that, though. She said I was the field research phase of SADAT.”
“Look at this,” Cam said. Two images, one the political supporters of Skytracker, the other the main funders of SADAT.
“I’m not seeing anything,” Twee told Cam.
“How about now?” A list of senators who pushed through a NSF project that created Skytracker, appeared. Three of their major donors were the same billionaires who later funded SADAT.
“It’s just one big long project,” Twee said. “Wait, look at the dates. They’d all be dead by now.”
“Just one,” said Asher. “Another guy is the son of the first guy. They make airplanes. One of them makes chemical spray stuff. I don’t know about the third one.”
“Minnie told you this?” Cam asked.
“Nah. I was twelve when I started hanging around. Adults, they act like kids can’t hear. If you just keep staring at the TV or your cell phone, they talk about all kinds of stuff. ‘Specially in the hot tub because it was boring waiting around.”
“Waiting around for the dead people?”
“Bodies die, dude, not people.”
“Sorry, this is all new to me,” Cam said.
“What about Denny and the boys?”
A thrill swept over Cam, raising gooseflesh on his arms. He hadn’t spoken about Denny and the boys for almost twenty years.
Asher looked straight at him, unblinking. Sure. Imbued with the power of knowing. Cam felt opened and—it came in a flash of understanding—submissive. He wanted Asher to take over. He longed to let everything go, for Asher to own him long enough to give him this truth, this reality. Please. Tell me.
And Asher knew it. He waited to be asked.
“The Lieutenant’s on the way up, and he has someone with him. Snow, Gordi’s joining us, make sure we’re recording. Asher, are you trustworthy?
The spell with Cam broken. “Trustworthy?”
“I cannot allow you to be present, and I have to be. My office is soundproofed. I’m asking if I have to lock the door.”
He got up and walked into her office on his own. “You don’t have to lock it. I don’t want to be in there.”
“It’ll be okay,” she said, wondering if he felt something bad was coming. “I set up the computer for internet only. I signed you into my streaming video. Do me a favor and don’t watch porn.”
“I’ll hang or watch a movie … just a regular one. Um … it might cost money.”
“That’s okay. I’m happy to buy you a movie.” She leaned over and whispered, “There’s snacks in the bottom right drawer. Don’t tell the others.”
3:00pm - Man Plans
* * *
“And God laughed,” said the man alone in a space that was barely a room. His name was Phillip, though he hadn’t heard it in relation to himself in over a year.
Perched cross-legged on the camper bed, he fiddled with a 17x17x17 cube puzzle, reviewing his plan’s status. He’d corrupted the data; the upload was pure noise. The backpack rested safely in the hands of the cops. He’d have a lawyer claim it in a few weeks and have all her original data and her prototype random pulse generator. The men who guarded Tussey were gone. The thug was dead. Goals accomplished.
But not accomplished according to plan. The thug was a cowboy who didn’t wait for him. As a result, Tussey wasn’t dead and the cops knew the thug was murdered, which made him a lot more interesting than he would have been as victim of a rock-climbing accident. And Phillip was still here when he should have been gone last night.
Most disturbing of all, Leon Hughes’ cell phone was in a bus station locker, and he didn’t know why. Hughes might think if someone traced the cell to the locker, especially if he left his duffel bag inside, the pursuer would assume he was still in Denver and not look further.
But Phillip thought he was crediting Leon with more intelligence than he’d ever shown. It was more likely he’d gone to find a hooker and only took with him what he could afford to have stolen. And while he loathed unexplained elements, Phillip didn’t see an explanation that affected his revised plan or its outcome.
He’d take care of the rest of the evidence himself. Tussey first. Then he’d dispose of the last bit of real evidence—Asher Gamble.
He sat on his motel bed, rotating the planes of the cube, bringing randomized colored facets into correct position. The boy seemed straightforward to him. Getting Asher to the cave would be a simple matter of letting him know Jason Furney was there and wanted to talk.
Of course, he’d have to fuck the boy first to leave convincing damage for the autopsy, but condoms, gloves, and attention to detail would keep his DNA off the body. Miles from human habitation, inside the cave with the boy’s face forced into the dirt, no one could possibly hear the screams.
Philip smiled as two rows of yellow slid into position. Smothering Asher in the dirt would be expedient and a nicely horrifying touch for the police. It might even seem accidental.
All Tussey’s boys had run away—the boys who’d convinced everyone they were gay. He’d suggested it to them, saying it would keep people from being curious about what the men were doing together in the hot tub. He was an expert at predicting what people would assume.
He’d also hidden pictures inside the house in places the police were sure to find them. Pictures of Asher in the hottub with the men. With only their shirtless upper bodies showing, all appeared to be naked. The locals could spend months running down all those so-obvious suspects, if they could even find out their names.
Long before anyone started looking for “Max Thomas,” Phillip would be out of the state—another tourist in a pick-up with camper, heading back east from vacation. He could finally return to Maryland, to his office, to his life—knowing Jason Furney remained alive and well.
Phillip would never allow the work of his lifetime destroyed by inept government apes or a dumb-ass cunt of a researcher. A hard twist and the puzzle locked up. Who the fuck keeps their critical research in the trunk of their goddamned car?
Think Tank Man allowed himself a moment to relish the idea of finally killing Anne Tussey.
3:25pm - Answers
* * *
No one interrupted Leon Hughes while he told his story.
He took the PEV to meet his drug dealer. It wasn’t his regular guy and he had a gun. Leon figured the guy wanted to rip him off. They struggled, Leon killed him. He put him in the PEV, and drove him to Red Rocks. He hiked back. Took the dealer’s car. Threw away the gun. Left the car by the side of the road. Walked home.
Hunter left the note-taking and questions to the others.
“Explain exactly how you killed him.” Dan Gordi was on the big monitor.
“I got him against the side of the car. On his knees. Put my knee in his back, pulled his head back, all the way, pushed sideways and down. Used all my weight.”
“You said you fought with him first?”
“Not much. Hit the gun away and got him in a bear hug from behind.”
“You hit him? He hit you?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. How long after you killed him did you leave the scene and start driving down the hill?”
Leon shrugged. “Right away. Like a minute.”
“And how long did it take to get to the parking lot of the amphitheatre?”
“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Can’t go too fast there. Ground’s not even. You can turn over.”
“Thank you.” On the monitor, Gordi nodded to the team he was done.
“Leon, I don’t understand why you didn’t just leave him there,” Merisi said. “A dead drug dealer in a car at that dead end? It’s kinda to be expected. Lotta drugs get done there; lotta kids meet there. No one could tie him to you.”
He shrugged. “People know me and that cart. It was daytime. Somebody could see me coming back pretty easy. Ain’t nothin’ at the end of that road but the turnaround. Puttin’ him in the cart and going over the side, gettin’ outta sight fast, just seemed a good idea right then.”
“But you left him in that cart, Leon. It was like leaving a calling card from Minnie Houston.”
He looked troubled. “Yeah, wasn’t supposed to go down like that. Place was closed. I’d been outta there in another five minutes except those park cops showed up.”
“Why Red Rocks, anyway?” Mike asked. “Long way to go with a body in your cart.”
“Nobody lives up that wash; nobody’d see. People go to the Rocks all the time, open or closed. Climb around, try an’ get inside, lookin’ for souvenirs. Fall off the rocks. Just gonna leave him there, under that overgang part.
“See, it seems like it’s far away, the Rocks and Sandy Gulch Road,” He went on. “But you go like a bird flies, almost a straight line, it’s not far. I can go back on the canyon road, drive the long way home, it’ll be gettin’ on two-three o’clock. Nobody’s going to tie me to anything. It was a good idea,” he insisted as if his intelligence had been called into question. “Parks cops come later—you’d still be wondering.”
Hunter believed it was the first time Leon had told the truth. Or something close to it.
Hunt didn’t believe it was Leon who drove the PEV. Or Leon who thought through leaving a body at Red Rocks while he was pumped on adrenaline. The big risk was driving the victim’s car away. A car that might be stolen or belong to someone wanted. A car that could be stopped on the canyon road by Deputy Wes or one of his LEO brethren.
All through this case, and before, he’d felt there was a mind at work, someone manipulating events. Someone who would have sent Leon to take the biggest risk. Someone who sent Asher to meet him and Cam. Who left the backpack. It seemed a very far reach that mind belonged to Minnie Houston. She was smart enough, but a murderer?
He got up and went to Natani’s office. His team didn’t react to this at all, but stayed focused on Leon. They were very, very good. He made a mental note as he slipped inside to tell them that. He didn’t do that enough.
He found Asher eating potato chips from a small bag and watching cars fly through the air while men inside them fired guns at each other. The boy stopped the movie. “
Ms. Natani said it was okay.”
“I’m sure,” Hunter smiled. He pulled a visitors chair around to Asher’s side of the desk.
“Asher, I need you to tell me everyone who hung around or lived at Minnie’s house.”
Asher described each of the five Army men in the house now. He said they changed. Some would leave, new ones come, but Leon always stayed. Davey would come sometimes, but just for a few minutes, maybe to pick up something. Minnie always went to his house for longer visits.
“The Army men, did any of them seem older or like an officer? Somebody in charge that the other men listened to?”
He shook his head. “There was one guy Leon called ‘Captain.’ He got mad and said not to. He was really quiet though.”
“Okay, so the Army men and Davey. No one else you’d see there?”
Asher shook his head. “Just the deputies sometimes. Mostly Deputy Wes.”
“What about Jason?”
Asher’s eyes flicked toward the door making sure it was closed.
“Jason’s secret,” he said.
“Even from Minnie?”
“From everybody. But you.”
“Did you ever get the feeling he was lying to you”
“I never get feelings from Jason.”
“You can’t read him?”
Asher’s arms crossed his stomach, and his thin fingers grabbed opposite elbows. “If I said it was like there’s nobody in there, would you get it?”
Hunter thought about this. “Do you mean he’s keeping himself hidden on purpose, like protecting his privacy? Or that he doesn’t have … I don’t know … ”
“A soul?” Asher suggested.
“Is that how you’d put it?”
“It’s like he’s a computer program. A hologram.”
Hunter leaned to the side, mimicking Asher’s posture. “It sounds like you don’t really like him.”
“He’s interesting, and he believes me. He always has neat stuff like puzzles and things. Books about being like us.”