by Thomas Amo
"Anyone who puts their life before kids is tops in my book," said James.
"Captain Shelton? What happened?"
* * *
James quietly started to tell Summers the Captain's story, "She would kick my ass for telling you this. But I tell it to anyone who ever doubts why we do what we do. Captain Shelton—or Deb as she was known back in 1988—was working for San Joaquin County Sheriff's Department. Like all the rest of us who choose law enforcement as a living, she was working her way up from the streets into the detective division. Well in October of that same year, a former security guard and drug addict who worked as a part-time janitor at a local school decided to just start shooting children."
Summers gave James a look of shock followed by a look of recognition. "Wait wasn't that the Cleveland School shooting, Stockton, California?"
James nodded yes. Summers remembered the story.
"Yeah we studied that case at Quantico. It made national headlines."
"Exactly, and Captain Shelton was first officer on the scene. When she arrived it was like a war zone. He had already killed several children and teachers and had gone back to his station wagon to reload. He had brought two machine guns, several handguns and grenades. Captain Shelton saw him reloading in his car and two wounded little girls lying in the center of the playground. She knew he was coming back for them. She had called for backup, but in that moment she was on her own. She had a lot of ground to cover between the girls and the shooter. Halfway there she saw he was coming back from the car, locked and loaded. She knew even if she ran as fast as she could, he would still get to the little girls before she could. As soon as he saw Captain Shelton he drew on her. She called to him and told him to let the two girls go. If he wanted a hostage he could take her. She would drop her gun. The gunman told her, he wasn't taking any prisoners and shot Captain Shelton twice in the chest. While she was lying on the ground he came up to her and put his gun into her face and asked her if she had any last words. You know what she said?"
Summers was now on the edge of her seat captivated by the way James was telling Shelton's story. "No what did she say to him?"
"She said to him, 'Son, don't shame your mama like this.' He looked at her and his expression changed. He turned and walked back to the car, put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger."
"Oh my god. He stopped, just like that."
"In a million years I would have never thought to say something like that to a guy with a gun. You know most cops are good at a basic level, but because of the nature of what we do it makes some of them real jerks a lot of the time. But it's an officer like Captain Shelton that makes me try harder every day. Try harder to be more like her. That's why whenever that woman asks anything of me I never hesitate to say yes, " said James proudly.
"Thank god she was wearing her Kevlar that day," said Summers. James smiled back at her and shook his head no. "It was the one day she didn't wear it. Both those bullets are still in her chest. They are lodged in such a way that her life depends on them. The doctor told her if they ever try to take them out she'd go into shock and be gone within seconds. She calls them her little hearts. Because of Cap, those two little girls got to grow up and become moms. "
Summers sat motionless and amazed by the story. She now understood why James had such a deep respect and admiration for his captain.
James smiled and reached out his hand to Summers. "By the way we haven't really been properly introduced, I'm Thomas James." Summers returned his smile and took his hand into hers.
"Ashton Summers."
"From what I understand I owe a debt of thanks to you for what happened at the hospital last night," he said returning her grip.
"I can't take all the credit. Your friend Miss Rivera, she was right by your side the entire time," responded Summers as she slowly released his hand. The two of them looked back at the suspect behind the glass and then at each other. James leaned his head in a motion towards the interrogation room. "Ready to go and deal with our monster?" asked James. Summers nodded, "He who fights monsters must be careful that he himself does not become one."
James quickly finished her quote.
"For if you gaze into the abyss long enough the abyss will gaze back into you."
"Very good, you know your Nietzche," said Summers confidently.
"Maybe it's because I already know the abyss all too well."
She then paused as she looked deep into his hazel eyes and remembered the reason why she was here in the first place was because of him. Once again Summers shivered and felt the chill of fear on her body as she questioned in her mind. Just how well does he know The Abyss?
Chapter Eighteen
The Abyss
James and Summers were met at the door of the interrogation room by the department's psychiatrist, Dr. Scott Cherney.
"So what's the story doc? Can we interview him?" asked James. Cherney put the thick manila file folder under his arm and patted James on the shoulder and ushered him and Summers over to the department's break room.
"I need a cup of coffee, I think you guys are gonna need one too," he said, walking past them to enter the break room. James and Summers exchanged a look and then obediently followed Cherney.
You could always tell where Doc Cherney was in the building because of the perpetual smell of cigarettes, black coffee and the occasional trailing scent of Aqua Velva. There were times James wondered if Cherney ever ate. Could a man survive on only coffee and cigarettes? If it were possible then Doc Cherney would be that man. His salt and pepper hair gave a small indication to his years. But what really gave his age away was his profound knowledge of movies. Not just the recent ones either. His mind was a boundless library that went all the way back to the silent era. To hear him talk, you would think the man was a film critic not a psychiatrist, James thought, you have to love something other than your job. Doc Cherney's first love was obviously cinema. In fact when he wasn't trying to get inside the head of every asshole who felt the world owed them a favor, you could find him at his favorite coffee house working on his latest novel. Oddly enough James found the doctor to actually be a damn good writer. James's favorite was Red Asphalt, he had read it at least five times and still had never worked up the courage to ask the doc to autograph it for him.
"Sit down Tom and, I'm sorry, I don't remember your name."
"Ashton Summers, we haven't actually met," she said. This caused Cherney to respond with a confused look that he turned towards James as if to say, "Then why is she here?" James immediately picked up on his expression.
"Miss Summers is here on behalf of the F.B.I."
Cherney nervously nodded and poured himself a large cup of black coffee. He then sat opposite of James and Summers and reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of Camel no filters. In a matter of three moves he had a single cigarette from the pack to his lips and lit. James noticed Summers was about to protest due to California's law on virtually no smoking anywhere, when James nudged her that law didn't apply when it came to working with Dr. Cherney. She quickly caught on and relaxed back into her chair.
Now that Cherney was in his element, he could proceed with an air of comfort. He flipped open the folder and took a long drag from his cigarette. "You're gonna want to take notes, because even I don't know if I believe the shit I'm gonna tell you," he said as blew the smoke out through his nose. Summers quickly pulled a yellow legal pad from her folder.
Cherney continued, "Billy-Bob-No-Nose in there isn't your typical Ned Beatty raping hillbilly." Summers gave Cherney an incredulous look that was not only chastising, but it bordered between shock and amusement. Cherney relished in her reaction for a moment, then moved on. "I know, I amaze myself sometimes. Anyway I know it's clichéd to say, but your axe wielding killer in there is the real McCoy," said Cherney. He caught Summers glancing over her glasses while at him while she scribbled notes.
Cherney smirked, "Yeah I know another redneck reference, it happens. What I mean is, this gu
y has some fame and bragging rights behind him. He claims he's one of the Manson Family," said Cherney with a deliberate tone. Summers dropped her pen. James and Summers looked back towards the two-way glass and from there they sat in the break room they could see the killer sitting quietly. He then turned as if he was aware they were watching him. He calmly waved to them, which sent chills through both James and Summers.
"Doc, how did you find that out? I mean we can't even get prints off the guy because he slashed them off."
"I asked him," Cherney said in a matter of fact response. James was caught a little off guard by Cherney's flippant reply. "So he just came right out and told you he was one of Charlie's Family?" asked James.
"Pretty much," said Cherney as he took another drag off his cigarette. Summers stopped taking notes. "Did he tell you which member he was?"
"He told me Charlie called him Clem."
The name struck a chord in James's memory. Was it possible after 40 years Charlie was still pulling strings from prison? Captain Shelton's words came back to him. She was right there were a great deal of references to The Family and not just at the hospital.
"Clem?" questioned Summers.
"Steve Grogan," James quickly answered.
"That's right," replied Cherney.
"Is there anyway we can confirm it's really him?" asked Summers.
Cherney began flipping pages from the large folder on his lap. "Well until his fingerprints grow back I think we're gonna have to take his word for it. Or at least his written statement anyway. As his language skills are pretty limited. He doesn't have a tongue."
"Christ, did he cut out his tongue too?" asked James.
"No the Aryan Brotherhood did that for him in prison. Perfect way to silence a snitch. Apparently Charlie really does have a long reach from behind bars."
"You're telling me, Manson ordered the Aryan Brotherhood to silence Clem by cutting out his tongue," said Summers.
"I am yes. But that's not the weird part."
"Oh you mean it actually gets weirder?" questioned James. Cherney nodded, crushed out his cigarette and lit another.
"According to the police files, Clem was arrested for the murder of Donald 'Shorty' Shea. Manson was also part of that murder. Only Clem wasn't arrested and imprisoned until after Manson had his own trial. Clem and Charlie were sent to separate prisons."
"So Charlie got word to the A.B. to keep him quiet about killing Shorty?" asked James. Cherney shook his head no. "No, Charlie didn't give a shit at that point. He was already on death row for Tate/LaBianca, so it didn't matter if the Hinman murder or killing of Shorty were added to his sentence. You could only kill Charlie once. No, this is where it gets weird. He told me, Charlie had said something to him that he could never tell anyone," said Cherney pausing. "He didn't come here to kill you, Tom. He came to kill Miss Summers."
Summers and James both looked bewildered. "What are you talking about? Why would he be after Miss Summers?"
"He told you that? That he came here to kill me?" asked Summers. Cherney nodded.
"Just exactly when did Manson tell Clem to murder Miss Summers?" inquired James as he watched Cherney crush out another cigarette and then slowly look up to them both.
"1972."
Chapter Nineteen
1972
"I wasn't even alive in 1972," claimed Summers.
"I told you it was weird," remarked Cherney.
James stood up and tried to put it all together. "So let me get this straight, Doc. You're telling me everything that's happened in the last 48 hours all leads back to Charles Manson?"
"No I'm not saying that at all. What I am saying is the guy in the room with the two-way glass told me Charlie ordered him to kill Miss Summers."
"Thirteen years before I was born?"
"I didn't say any of it made any sense."
Summers stood up and slammed her notebook down. "I want to talk to him." James tried to calm her. "That may not be such a good idea. If he told Doc here he's on some kind of weird mission from Charlie to kill you then maybe part of his plan is to get you into the same room, close enough to fulfill Charlie's prophecy."
"I don't care, Tom. I want to talk to him and if you don't let me I can have 20 more agents here inside of half an hour and we will take over this case," commanded Summers.
James could see the determination in her eyes. "Okay, but you're not going in there alone. I want you to vest up and give me your sidearm," ordered James. He could see Summers did not like the idea of going inside unarmed. "It's not negotiable Ashton. Don't worry, I'm going to be standing right next to you and believe me if Clem makes any kind of sudden moves, they will be his last."
James, Summers and Dr. Cherney headed into the interview room. The moment Ashton stepped inside Clem began to laugh and point his handcuffed hands at her.
"I'm special agent Ashton Summers of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, it's my understanding you have communicated to Dr. Cherney you were instructed by Charles Manson in 1972 to kill me. Is that correct?" she asked as Clem stared glassy eyed at her. He grinned and began to rock his body back and forth and nodded yes.
"Do you mind telling me how this is possible, since I wasn't born yet?" The three of them watched Clem scribble onto Summers yellow legal pad the answer. "Charlie knows everything."
"Charlie's in prison, Clem. He's been there since 1970," said James as Clem turned ignoring his comment. Cherney interjected, "Clem, why would Charlie want Miss Summers dead?"
Clem quickly scribbled again on the pad of paper. "Only the sow knows why."
Cherney turned his head sideways as he read Clem's scrawl. "The sow? What the hell does that mean?" asked Cherney, his temper beginning to flare. He jerked Clem's chair around to face him, "You think you're real fucking funny don't you asshole! It's not enough you spin this hippie bullshit on everyone, but then you have to insult Miss Summers on top of it all!" James pulled the angry doctor away from Clem, while Summers continued to try and find out exactly why Charles Manson wanted her dead.
"Clem, never mind that. Look at me. Tell me why. If you don't tell me, you're going to rot in prison for trying to kill a federal officer and no one will ever know. Now is your chance to be heard and believed. If you don't take it now, everyone from here on out will think you're just crazy old Clem. The old burnt out hippie, who is still following Charles Manson like some psychedelic pied piper." Clem looked directly into Summers eyes. She had his complete and undivided attention. "Come on Clem, tell me, I'm listening, why does he want me dead?"
Clem slowly reached out for the pen and legal pad without removing his gaze from her. Her eyes held his. She knew if she looked at the pad he might stop and never tell her. "That's right Clem, it's okay tell me. I'll believe you."
As Clem began to write a loud shout came from outside the interview room. "Open that fucking door right now!" demanded a firm male voice. Summers, James and Cherney all looked towards the door in unison as it flew open. Clem began to write faster.
A tall, scruffy looking man stood holding a weather-beaten leather brief case in his hand. He looked wildly at the three of them. "Are you fucking kidding me? You assholes are interrogating my client without his attorney present? Do you seriously want to just give millions of taxpayer dollars away? Get the fuck out of here!" he commanded. Cherney stepped up. "Hold on a second. Your client has not only committed murder this morning, but also attempted to murder three law enforcement officials—one of them being a Federal Agent," shouted Cherney as he got back into the attorneys face.
"Back off!" shouted the attorney, shoving Cherney away.
James and Summers stepped in. "Your Clem's attorney?" asked James. "My name is Rolan Chessman and his name is Steve Grogan not Clem. Get your facts straight."
Captain Shelton stepped into the doorframe of the interview room. Her solid figure and calm voice brought the volatility of the room back to a professional tone. "Mr. Chessman, tend to your client and lose the vulgar language while you're in my
department, as for the rest of you, I want all of you out here right now," she said quietly, stepping back into the main room.
James, Summers and Cherney filed out like scolded children. She pulled a finger to the three of them. As they walked to her the four of them formed what appeared to be a huddle. The Captain's demeanor changed instantly. "You guys get anything out of him?"
"A lot of hippie nonsense Cap," chimed Cherney. "He didn't want to talk to us, just Agent Summers," said James. Summers seemed confused by the whole change in the Captain's attitude but then realized it was all a front for the sake of Chessman. Shelton gave Summers a look that asked for information. "So Miss Summers? What did he write down?"
"Shit. I left it in there," she suddenly remembered. Turning back toward the interview room, Summers noticed Clem was turned away from Chessman.
"Well you can't get it now or Chessman will have us all by the balls for sure," said Shelton. James smirked at her comment. The Captain was a real team player he thought. Summers continued watching Clem and Chessman. She saw Clem tear the sheet of paper he had been writing on away from the pad. He then tried to hide it away as she noticed Chessman was making no effort at all to speak with Clem.
"Tom, something is wrong," she said. James didn't hear as his attention was with Shelton and Cherney.
"Well regardless Cap, we have to find out why Clem took such a risk trying to kill Agent Summers," said James as his attention was turned to Cherney who kept searching his pockets. "Doc? What the hell is the matter with you?"
"I can't find my lighter."
The howl and screech of flammable combustion pierced the ears of everyone in the room as Clem's body slammed against the window of interview room one. The soundproof room muffled his tongue-less screams. James and Summers saw fire engulf the interview room, consuming Chessman and Clem. "Jesus! Grab an extinguisher!" screamed James as he ran for the interview room door. He jerked and pushed on the door. "Who has the key?" Cherney ran to the glass and could see a chair shoved up under the doorknob wedging it shut. Through the glass he could feel the intense heat trying to get out. Cherney backed away in shock as he watched Chessman dance around the room burning and flailing his flaming arms like a toy marionette. Clem pressed his disfigured face against the bulletproof glass. His eyes were wild with fear.