Vegas Rain

by Rick Murcer

  “We also found some dirt and pebbles that didn’t seem to match the soil composition of this area so we’ll be waiting on the lab for the results of those tests,” added Dean.

  “What about the injury to Mister Roache?” asked Josh.

  “I talked to the ME and she said that the position of the incision was strange. It was not quite in the center of Roache’s gut, but more to the liver side. That made her a tad more curious, so she snaked a portable scope inside the cut and discovered that the liver, pancreas, and gallbladder were missing.”

  “Totally missing or misplaced? I mean, it’s not like we haven’t seen some of this weird shit over the last couple of years,” asked Sophie.

  “Missing. Not found anywhere in the casket or surrounding area,” answered Alex.

  “Why those three organs?” asked Josh.

  Alex released a breath. “I don’t know for sure. We’ll have to see the ME’s report on when, in relation to postmortem or antemortem possibilities, the organs were removed.”

  “There are usually only two reasons organs are removed, especially if the report comes back with antemortem removal,” said Manny.

  “Some form of ritual that the psychopath deems necessary to complete his mission . . . or transplants. Gallbladder transplants don’t happen, but the other two organs can and are used every day to try to save people’s lives.”

  Josh raised his eyebrows. “Are you talking black market?”

  “I’m not talking anything. I’m simply listing the possibilities,” said Manny.

  “Well, the incision was done with a certain precision, so maybe that’s an angle we should explore,” said Dean.

  Leaning forward, Josh raised his hand. “Let’s get more info before we start thinking black-market organ harvesting, okay? This killer is Argyle-like, and we should concentrate on that. And besides, why would Argyle or any of his cronies go black market? They sure as hell don’t need the money and that kind of criminal activity is usually controlled by gangs and organized crime. It’s getting global attention, and the World Health Organization is becoming involved. I think it’s too risky, even for the Good Doctor and his followers.”

  “Good points. But when did this cult, or its founder, ever care about risk?” said Manny. “We’ll see what else the ME has to say. For now, I have to go with Josh on this. Psycho is psycho.”

  “What about that note and the writing, Williams? Is it Argyle’s and what do you think it means?” asked Sophie.

  Slowly pulling the evidence bag from his pocket, Manny spread it out on the hood of the truck, and then looked around the circle.

  “It looks like his, but it could be faked. It happens. The folks in the lab can dig into it. The message is, well . . . Listen. When I was a kid, the only real book we took to church was the King James Bible. Over the last twenty-five years, the translations have grown to almost epic proportions and—”

  “Wait. You think this is a bible verse?” asked Josh.

  Manny nodded. “I know it is. It was taken from a new translation, the New King James. See here?”

  The tight circle grew tighter.

  “The NKJ stands for that. The LK stands for the Gospel of Luke. The twenty-four refers to the chapter and the five to the verse.”

  “So, what does it say?” asked Sophie.

  “I looked it up and according to this passage, there were two men, white-robed angels, talking to three women. Mary, Jesus’ mother, Mary Magdalene, and a woman named Salome. One of the angels asked the women an incredibly perceptive question.”

  “And?” said Josh, frowning.

  “He asked the women why they were seeking the living among the dead.”

  CHAPTER-12

  He laughed. Then again as he clicked the red button on his phone, placing it lightly on the desk.

  The recipient on the other end of his communication must have believed him insane or joking. Either way, whatever the idiot thought, the purpose of his call was masked to cover the truth. His truth. After all, his way, his mantra, was the only one that held any significance.

  The laughter had been genuine. But then again, over the last few years, had there been anything regarding his resurrection from the choking confines of societal expectations that was feigned? He could think of nothing that hadn’t been of the sincerest motivation for him since his initial encounter with his true mentor.

  What an encounter it had been. He recalled the chains falling away. At first, it was difficult to comprehend the way his mind had been utterly transformed and freed. He knew from hundreds of sessions what people really considered, what fantasies they so desperately desired to convert to reality, yet were unable to pull the proverbial trigger releasing that pure, unadulterated enlightenment.

  “What a waste,” he said softly.

  The cell phone rested in his large hand. He could squeeze and feel it crack; he could squeeze harder and watch the phone virtually disintegrate as minuscule shards of black plastic and translucent glass slipped through his powerful fingers.

  The phone, however, was needed as a lynchpin in the grand scheme of things to come. He’d laid the groundwork, for the most part, of what was to come next and, after all, that was important. Yet the unspoken, the perplexing, was far more defining.

  Getting up from the desk located in the spacious backroom of the warehouse, he moved to the computer station and hit enter. The program that had been written especially for this project was vacillating on the screen as the power grid gave response to the rise and fall of the power surges running from one cell phone tower to another. The GPS for the phone he’d put on the desk had been fooled into believing it was coming from another area of Nevada and was being directed by remotely accessing phone sources in and around the U.S. Its function allowed the program to hijack a new location every fifteen seconds and mask the true origin of the signal.

  He’d also had his programmer create a global connection that could hack into networks all over the world, disguising the source of his Internet connection, making it virtually impossible to trace his email and video-streaming communications. That would be important, beginning in less than two days, if his calculations were correct. And they always were.

  Fortunately, he’d been able to test the project and found it completely serviceable for his complex needs—and all before the programmer had met with an unfortunate demise. He suspected that the programmer had no idea his life would end as it had, but then again, did anyone really suspect such a thing?

  He wondered if anyone, other than the creatures of the desert, would ever stumble upon the programmer’s body. He supposed some misguided camper or hiker may do just that, but it would be far too late to have any effect on his destiny.

  Leaving a corpse to rot in an unmarked grave was not exactly his style but proved necessary to minimize the likelihood of detection until he was ready.

  Two days.

  That’s all that was required. He’d waited long enough. Hidden in the sanctuary that was his own anticipation, he’d relented to a self-control that, at times, was difficult to succumb, but had done it anyway. The timing for this final play had never seemed quite right, but that had changed with the onset of one new development.

  “Children will change your life, agents,” he whispered.

  *****

  Staring at the phone, Gavin put it to his ear. “Who is this?”

  No response.

  Gavin licked his lips and then glanced at Chloe.

  “Listen, asshole, this phone belongs to a law enforcement official, and I’ll have your balls behind bars in a few hours if you don’t identify yourself now.”

  More silence.

  Waiting ten more agonizing seconds, Gavin spoke again. “Last chance, shithead.”

  “Soon, Commissioner, soon.”

  He barely heard the laugh as the phone went dead. The tone was unmistakable, the articulation one of a kind. He recognized the voice, yet . . . it was impossible.

  The caller had been dead over a
year.

  “Are you all right, Gavin? You look like you saw, or heard, a ghost,” Chloe moved toward him.

  Regaining his composure, Gavin waved his hand toward Chloe, hoping to hide what he thought he’d heard.

  “Yeah. Just some punk trying to get under my skin. Now. Let me get to the office, and I’ll see about getting the ball rolling with your new job. I’ll be back to talk to you and Manny.”

  “That works for me,” said Chloe, watching him intently. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. See you when you can get that workaholic husband to come home.”

  Gavin slid into the front seat of his black sedan, his pulse still racing.

  He glanced at the phone’s screen and saw that, somehow, the number had changed. The area code was now a Detroit area number. Impossible. He knew what he had seen.

  Pulling out of the driveway, he raced toward downtown Lansing.

  Okay, maybe I’m seeing things, but I know what I heard. How could I ever forget?

  Doctor Fredrick Argyle’s voice was still ringing in his ears.

  CHAPTER-13

  Bending down to kiss Chloe, who was standing near the kitchen table, Manny felt the warmth of her breath and felt the touch of her soft skin as she fingered his hand.

  For a moment, just for a fleeting tidbit of time, he forgot why the BAU and the LPD had decided to meet at his home to discuss the circumstances behind this whacky gathering.

  She had always had an effect on him of some kind, but none as pronounced as when she touched him. Anyway, anywhere, and anytime.

  The not-so-miniscule pulse of electricity was still there—and perhaps stronger than before because they’d grown closer. She had become his escape, his anchor on reality, and God knew after the last two weeks, topped off by the morning’s developments, he needed both.

  The image of the two of them relaxing on some exotic beach, umbrella drinks in hand, and Chloe sporting a hot-pink bikini covering less than it should have topped off his mini-fantasy.

  “Hey. Where’s your brain?” whispered Chloe.

  “Oh, I’ll tell you later. If you’re a good girl,” he whispered back.

  Her knowing smile raised his internal thermostat a few more degrees.

  “How do you know what I’m thinking?” he asked.

  “Once a profiler . . . ”

  “True enough.”

  Motioning to her, they stepped into the family room out of earshot from Gavin and Josh.

  “So, are you sure? Do you want to go this route?”

  “I do. It’s almost a no-brainer, Manny. Even before you and I were done talking on the phone, I knew it was the right call. I can’t work with you in BAU, and unless I miss my guess, they’ll want to reassign me to the terrorism unit.”

  “That’s not something I want to see,” he said.

  She reached down and rubbed her calf. “Me either. Getting shot once was plenty, especially given my condition . . . ” she said, patting her stomach.

  He kissed her again, her warm mouth as pleasing as ever. He supposed someday he’d get used to how that felt, but today wasn’t it.

  “I’d never try to tell you what to do, but you becoming a Lansing cop makes me feel a whole lot better inside, especially taking over as a lead detective. And working with Gavin and Mike would be like working with family,” he said, brushing her long hair from her face.

  “Then it’s totally settled,” she said. “Now how about one more of those kisses. They curl my toes, don’t ya know.”

  He obliged, but they were quickly interrupted.

  “Are you two planning something?” asked Gavin, standing in the doorway. Josh was at his shoulder wearing a quizzical look.

  “We are. Do you want to know what?” asked Manny.

  “I’m not sure about Gavin, but I’m curious,” said Josh, his expression staying the same.

  Looking at his wife, Manny nodded. “Chloe?”

  She exhaled then gave Josh a smile that could dazzle a corpse, taking his hand as she did. “Josh. I’ve loved working for the BAU, and you. I would have never met Manny without the opportunity you gave me, and I’m ever so grateful. But my life has changed, and for the better, so I’m officially resigning from the Bureau, effective immediately.”

  Tilting his head, Manny watched the tiny grin on Josh’s face mushroom into a compelling smile.

  Josh reached over and kissed her on the cheek, then stepped back.

  “You’re a talented profiler and a good woman, Chloe. I’ll miss you and your skills. I can’t blame you. I’d do the same, given your situation. Family is more important than anything else.”

  His look turned wistful and then darted back to the look Manny had grown used to seeing when his boss was working through something.

  “I’m just getting that. Anyway, have you thought of what—wait! You’re going to work for Gavin, aren’t you?”

  “She is,” interrupted Gavin, looking at Manny and Chloe. “I’ve got her desk set up, and she can start whenever she wants . . . say, yesterday?”

  Laughing again, Chloe nodded. “I was thinking Monday.”

  “Slacking already. Damn. Just like your old man,” said Gavin, grinning.

  “I had a great teacher, Gavin,” said Manny.

  “Maybe, but I had to protect you until you dried out behind the ears,” Gavin said.

  Josh headed back to the kitchen and the others followed.

  “Should make an announcement?” asked Manny, reaching for his coffee.

  Josh thought for a moment. “You might want to wait until after the meeting to decide. We’ve got a couple more issues to cover besides the reasons for this meeting. The timing may not be right.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Chloe, frowning.

  “Just trust me on this, okay?” said Josh.

  Manny didn’t care for how that sounded. Plus, an air of edginess pervaded Josh’s tone, and he didn’t like that either. But he banked on his boss’s judgment, at least for now.

  “Are we going to like what’s coming, Josh?” asked Manny, watching him intently.

  Josh began to answer just as the front door burst open and Sophie, followed by Dean and Alex, marched into the living room.

  As she reached the entrance to the large kitchen, Sampson jumped up from his spot near the pale-green sofa, wide tail wagging, and charged Sophie. Before she could react, he had a paw on both shoulders, his brown eyes almost level with hers.

  “Sampson . . . ” started Manny.

  “Stop. I’ve got this,” said Sophie. “I can handle tall, dark, and handsome.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell him to get down,” said Manny.

  “You weren’t?” said Sophie, never taking her eyes from the canine.

  “No.”

  “What then?”

  “I wanted to show you his new trick. He’s a quick learner.”

  “What new trick? Oh shit.”

  Before she could move, Manny spoke. “Sampson, kiss.”

  Sophie’s face was immediately saturated with the kind of jowl juice only big dogs could muster. Sophie could only stare, her countenance riddled with disbelief. His typically gabby ex-partner was speechless—a feat not easily accomplished.

  Looking at his handiwork one last time, Sampson finished another lick the length of Sophie’s face, plopped all fours onto the hardwood floor, and returned to his place by the couch.

  The quiet was broken by Dean’s chuckle. Then Alex’s laugh. A moment later, the room was shaking with deep, wonderful laughter that even had Sophie grinning. Manny was glad for the break in tension—it would make for a better meeting.

  Laughter was truly a mysterious tonic.

  Chloe reached for a kitchen towel hanging near the dishwasher and rushed to Sophie.

  Sophie accepted the cloth, wiping away the drool, the smile never leaving her face however, even after the laughter died to a dull roar.

  “Good one, Manny. Excellent. I love your dog.”

&nbs
p; Manny’s smile disappeared. Sophie’s tone was one thing, but he quickly realized she hadn’t stopped grinning, nor had she taken her eyes from him.

  He began to back up, but was too slow. In the next instant, Sophie was on him, rubbing the cloth over his face with true enthusiasm.

  She dropped down and stepped back, admiring her effort. “Looks good on you too, Williams.”

  Slowly sponging at the moisture on his face, Manny nodded. “Okay. That was fair. But I’m a little hurt that you didn’t fully appreciate Sampson’s affection.”

  “Oh, I did. Far more than the dose you got, Big Boy. Forget that I’ll never get the smell of dog breath off me and my clothes. You’re getting the bill if I have to buy a new blouse too.”

  “Oh, I’ll pick up that tab,” said Alex, brushing at the tears still on his cheeks. “That was absolutely worth it. I love that dog too.”

  “Great. Then it’s settled. Sophie gets a new blouse. Sampson earns an ‘A’ for obedience, and we can get this meeting going because we’ve got a lot of information to cover. If you are all done screwing around,” said Josh.

  “Damn. You need to get home to the wife and soon,” said Sophie.

  “Yeah. Maybe. That sounds like a winner. But for now, let’s get to work.”

  It was hard not to notice the stress in his boss’s voice. It was the third time today that Manny had noticed the strain or, maybe, the uneasiness. It didn’t take a profiler to see that Josh had other things on his mind.

  Yet, Josh was right. They’d delayed the meeting, maybe subconsciously, long enough. They were here for only one reason: to solve a wicked case.

  The job, particularly the details of this one, came flooding back to reality, like it or not. He couldn’t lie. There would always be a part of him that liked it. Loved it, in fact.

  The adrenaline began to pump through his body, especially as he considered the text Chloe had received. The hair on the back of his neck raised high as anger and fear hijacked his emotions. He would do whatever it took to protect his wife and baby—like any other man, he supposed. Yet, that inescapable excitement crawled around in his belly. As heart-wrenching, as stressful, as horrible as his divinely appointed vocation could be, the chase, the challenge of bringing a killer to justice, always sent him to a special place.