by David Beers
“Okay,” Tommy said. “Be right there.”
Christian hung up the phone and pulled out the disk from the large white envelope. He half-expected the backwoods police department to send him an actual tape, but it appeared they did have some technology down there—even if they hadn’t been able to simply email him a copy.
He stuck the CD into his computer and opened the video application.
Luke and Tommy entered a minute later.
“Let’s see what ya got,” Tommy said as they moved behind his computer.
Christian hit play and they watched the video.
Ten minutes passed with no one saying a word. They let it unroll in silence, watching the man and woman talk to each other—though there was no audio to the recording.
It finally ended when the man and woman walked out of the camera’s view.
“The person I emailed with said the cut only showed the part where the couple was visible,” Christian said, turning his chair around to look at his two partners.
“They only spoke for ten minutes?” Tommy said.
“That’s all they got on camera. I looked at the bar’s blueprint. It’s fairly large, but there’s only two cameras. One that looks at the bar itself, and one in the back office that looks at the safe.”
“The only two places they keep money,” Luke said.
“Yup.”
“Well, that’s not a lot to go off of, Christian. What else is in the police report? What did witnesses say? Interviews with family?” Tommy asked.
“The woman’s name was Brittany Seabrook. She’s thirty-nine and was out with her friends, no special event. She’s recently divorced, but her ex-husband was out of town and has an alibi that checked out. Friends said they saw her leave with the man on the tape, and that Brittany called them an hour later when she got to the man’s hotel room—”
“Hotel room?” Luke interrupted.
“Yeah. He was there ‘on business’. On a Saturday night. Brittany might have noticed the discrepancy if she hadn’t been three hours deep into drinking. When her friends called her the next morning, no answer. By that afternoon the phone was off.”
“Did the police check cell-tower records? GPS locations?”
“Yeah, it appears they actually did some detective work on this one. The phone was found in a trashcan behind a restaurant. The wait staff said the couple came in at about two in the morning, ate, paid cash, and left. That was the last time either were seen.”
“And the restaurant had no recording system, did it?” Tommy said.
“Nope.”
“I doubt there was a hotel room,” Luke said.
“That’s gutsy,” Tommy said. “Showing up at a bar and hoping to get someone intoxicated enough to take home, then simply kidnapping them?”
“No more gutsy than any other kidnapping,” Christian said. “Men go out every weekend hoping for the exact same thing, sans the kidnap and add an orgasm to it. The only difference here is this man wanted to put her in the trunk of a car instead of a bed.”
He didn’t know much about what regular guys did on weekends. He had never once gone out hoping to find a woman for sex. He’d lost his virginity to Veronica, and fully expected that to be the last woman he slept with. None of that mattered, though—this was just Tommy talking out his thoughts. Christian didn’t need to hear any of it; he had already decided that these were related and nothing his partners said would change his mind.
“What do you want to do?” Tommy asked turning to Christian and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Tell Waverly. Then go to D.C. and start investigating the last kidnapping.”
“Current caseload?” Luke asked.
“They’re active, but they’re not active like this is. In four more months, there’ll be another kidnapping on the coast that follows this exact pattern. I guarantee it.”
“Alright,” Tommy said. “Let’s see if we can get on Waverly’s calendar tomorrow.”
“Why not try to call him now?” Christian said.
“One, because he’s the Director and this isn’t an active case. It’s a pitch. Two, it’s four o’clock and I’ve got to wrap up some emails to get out of here by five.”
An arrow of disgust shot through Christian’s mind. “What happened to you? Got tired of working hard?”
The two people in front of him were quiet for a second before Tommy said, “No, I just realized that life is pretty good, and I can’t experience it in this building. Thanks for your concern, though, Christian.”
He walked out of the room without saying anything else. Christian turned his chair and watched him go, part of him wanting to say something—to apologize—but another part simply said, Let him go. He’ll get over it.
Luke walked around to the front of Christian’s desk and stood looking at Tommy walk down the hall for a second. Once he was out of sight, Luke turned to Christian. “Nice of you to say.”
“Two years ago he would have been here working with me all night,” Christian said. “It’s not my fault he’s lost his drive.”
“How many nights have you slept here in a row?”
Christian looked up from the door, startled by the question. He had been careful about sleeping here, ensuring that he had a fresh change of clothes each time, and keeping a small bag of toiletries in his messenger bag to make sure he appeared fresh.
He’d been foolish to think he could hide it from Luke, though.
“Today’s Wednesday, so I’m guessing since Monday,” his partner said.
Christian nodded.
“Why aren’t you going home?”
“I’m trying to catch killers.”
“The killers sleep. You should, too.”
Christian was quiet for a few seconds, staring at Luke with unforgiving eyes. “You know why I’m here. You better than anyone.”
“I asked you to step into the winter, Christian. I never asked you to make it your home.”
The winter. Christian hadn’t thought of his life like that before, but Luke always portrayed things in new ways. Correct ways.
He didn’t know how to respond, so he said the only thing that came to his mind. “How’s Veronica?”
“She misses you, though I tell her it’s not in her best interest to contact you. How’s the winter?”
“Better than summer,” Christian said. “See you tomorrow, Luke.”
“Have a good night,” his partner answered and walked out of the office.
Christian swiveled his chair around and looked out the window. He’d pissed off both of them in less than five minutes. Tommy was hurt, though no one could hurt Luke. He probably wasn’t even upset. That had simply been Luke without any of society’s conventions hanging around his neck.
I asked you to step into the winter, Christian. I never asked you to make it your home.
Does a baby ask to be born? No, they’re brought into this world without a choice.
“You had a choice, though.”
That voice was his own, though he didn’t speak it. Truly, it only existed in Christian’s head, though if he turned his chair around, he’d see himself standing at the door. Christian had always seen visions like this, ever since he was a little boy. At first they had only been of his mother, and then his psychiatrist came into the fold. Those two helped him deal with the world when it became overwhelming, when he needed to calm down.
This person, this other self … Christian wasn’t sure why he came. Or, if he knew the reason, he didn’t want to admit it even to himself.
“You had a choice and made it, and every day since then, you’ve been making the same choice. Because you like it. Why haven’t you been to the mansion lately? There’s a lot waiting there for you, especially about this new case,” the other Christian said.
Christian knew he wasn’t lying. He’d spent almost a solid week thinking about these kidnappings, with only a few hours of sleep interrupting when it was absolutely necessary. His mind had created a whole room and it
was ready for him. Insights that could have helped when introducing this theory to Luke and Tommy.
He hadn’t gone, though, and now the other was asking him why.
“I don’t want to,” he said.
“Not this again. We went through all that months ago, but you stepped into the winter, as Luke called it. It is better than summer, Christian. You know that.”
No one else was in the room. If they had been, they would have heard a one-sided conversation, and quite possibly thought Christian insane. He didn’t usually speak to the mental images projected onto reality; his mother always told him they were fine, but he didn’t want to scare people, so it was best just to let the images do the talking.
Christian didn’t care about scaring people anymore, though.
“Are you going to leave me alone to work if I go inside?” Christian asked.
“Of course. Mi casa, su casa.”
CHAPTER 5
V eronica Lopez was tired as she stepped from her car. It was new, but as she parked it behind Luke’s, she felt as she always did when gazing on his vehicle: Luke had style that was hard to match.
She was here for her psychiatry appointment. She’d been seeing Luke for three-and-a-half years now, ever since Bradley Brown decided to strap her down to a bed and attempt playing surgeon on a bunch of people.
Veronica was tired but she never missed sessions with Luke, not unless she was too sick to get out of bed (which had only happened once since she started therapy). Luke helped tremendously, and she knew how special his time was. Even after so many years, she understood that an hour with her wasn’t worth his time—not in the larger scheme of things. His mind was capable of feats that could change the world, and agreeing to spend it changing her life was a gesture that money couldn’t ever truly repay.
Veronica heard the door open and she pulled her eyes from his new car.
“You look tired,” Luke called.
She smiled and walked to him. “I’m not sleeping well.”
“Are you taking the pills I prescribed?”
She shook her head.
“Come in and tell me why,” he said.
He let her walk in first, closing the door behind them. They made their way to Luke’s living room and sat in their usual spots, he on a chair and her on a couch with a single glass table separating them. Veronica never saw him move his living room around, but knew he did to accommodate her sessions. She appreciated it and understood why he did it. She became the center of the room, of his attention, the rest of the furniture discarded further away against the walls.
“I just don’t want to feel drugged anymore,” Veronica said. “I’ve been on antidepressants since Brown and sleeping pills since that bitch Speckle. I really want to come off it all.”
“Why?” Luke asked.
“I never needed it before. I don’t want to need it for the rest of my life.”
“Do you remember why I prescribed the antidepressants?”
Veronica nodded, remembering it well. She had been a wreck after Brown kidnapped her. Crying uncontrollably. Depressed. Wild mood swings. The whole gambit of post traumatic stress symptoms.
“If I take you off the antidepressants, you may experience depression again. I just want you to be aware of the possibility.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I know. I just … I don’t want to be dependent on outside chemicals to keep living.”
Luke smiled. “At least you don’t have to worry about addiction, then.”
“Not to drugs.” She didn’t finish the sentence with what she wanted to say: only to Christian.
“If you want to come off the antidepressants, we’ll need to taper it. SSRIs can have side effects if you quit too quickly.”
Veronica nodded, wanting to change the subject. She didn’t like going against Luke’s wishes; she trusted him too much. If he said she needed to stay on them, then she would for now.
“I had a dream last night. I’ve had it every night this past week, I think.”
“The same one?”
“Yes.”
“Have you had it before this past week?”
Veronica shook her head. “I’m standing outside of this huge building. It’s massive, stretching into the clouds and running miles in both directions. I want to get inside but none of the doors are open. The windows are all on the second story, and I can’t get up there. I feel like I walked forever last night, trying to find an open door.”
“Do you think the building is Christian?”
“I was hoping it wouldn’t be something so obvious,” she said.
“Christian isn’t well, Veronica.”
It was the first time Luke had said something about how Christian was doing since their breakup. He never spoke about Christian’s well being, only Veronica’s and what would be in her best interest. “What do you mean?”
“The change that you’ve seen in him isn’t about you at all. I thought that he was trying to protect you and that’s why he refused to continue your relationship. I was wrong. He needs … help, I think.”
Veronica stared at Luke, his angular, thin face showing calm even though his voice sounded concerned.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Do you not want to know?”
“You know I do, but I can’t help him. He won’t take my calls. Last time I showed up at his house, he wouldn’t answer the door, and I’m not about to commit breaking and entering.”
Luke nodded but said nothing.
“Do you think I should contact him?”
Luke crossed one leg over the other. “I think someone has to contact him, Veronica, or I’m scared of what he might do.”
CHAPTER 6
Waverly got the three onto his calendar quickly. On Monday morning, Tommy had asked the Director’s assistant about availability, and Waverly had them on a plane that evening for a meeting the next morning.
The flight was short and uneventful; Luke spent it with his eyes closed, hoping that Tommy wouldn’t talk to him. Christian sat in the middle of the three, but Luke knew he wouldn’t speak unless spoken to.
Luke wondered if Veronica had reached out to Christian yet. Luke didn’t actually suggest that she should, only left it in the air that something was desperately wrong with her poor, lost lover. That would be enough, though. Luke knew she would try speaking with him as soon as she built up the nerve.
Luke was in a holding pattern right now, though he was arranging things on the landing strip beneath him. He wasn’t fully sure what would happen with Veronica chasing Christian again; he couldn’t be perfectly confident his plans would go exactly as he wanted—and more, he wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted out of the impending contact. The end result, though, would be as Luke wished: Veronica would die. Horribly.
Luke hadn’t forgotten about her offense all those years ago, when she tried to recruit Christian to help in her investigation of Luke’s possible murders. While John Presley caused his own death, Veronica was responsible too. Going to him and asking those questions … well, it didn’t help Mr. Presley’s fate any. Or his wife’s.
Luke, of course, was guilty of the things Veronica once thought.
She had even gone back into his academic past, discovering that Luke’s boss committed suicide, after having a public tiff with Luke over his involvement in the Sphere.
Luke, of course, had killed his boss, Trevor Rollins.
Sitting in the plane, Luke thought back to the day in Dr. Rollins house. The man had been terrified; he couldn’t stop sweating. His button down, Oxford shirt was soaked through. Luke had bound the man to the chair using zip-ties; he didn’t want any residue left over from duct tape. Luke hadn’t covered the man’s mouth, though. He wanted Dr. Rollins able to speak.
“What the fuck are you doing, Luke?” the man said when he first woke up strapped to his kitchen chair.
“I’m making sure that you don’t cause me any more trouble.”
That’s when Rollins finally got it, sa
w Luke’s plan and quite possibly thought he saw Luke’s insanity. Luke wasn’t insane, though. No, he was probably a bit too rational, if truth be told.
“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t,” Dr. Rollins said. He was trying to remain calm, hoping he could talk himself out of this like he had seen in so many movies. Fear, though, couldn’t be hidden in someone that didn’t practice. His voice carried a live undercurrent of electricity, and his eyes darted every which way—wishing to find something that might help him.
Luke picked up the shotgun from the couch, showing it to Dr. Rollins for the first time. “I haven’t had a long career, but up until you, it had been spotless.”
The man let out a slight cry at the sight of the weapon. It sounded like a shrill bird calling a mate.
“I can’t abide someone tainting my reputation, Trevor,” Luke said. “Dr. Trevor Rollins.” He had rolled the full name off his tongue, tasting it like wine. “You see, we only have two things in this world: reputation and purpose. Reputation allows one to complete their purpose, and if mine is disfigured greatly, my purpose will be hampered. I can’t allow that to happen.”
“I’ll resign tomorrow,” the man spat out. “I’ll leave the state. I’ll leave the goddamn country. Just don’t do whatever you’re wanting to do with that!” His words had picked up speed as he spoke, fear tightening its grip on him.
“It’s too late for that, Trevor. You remember when we spoke in your office?”
Dr. Rollins nodded. Neither of them said anything else for a second, Luke letting him fully take in the meaning of those words two months ago.
They had sat in Dr. Rollins office, Luke having been summoned. He was told that he was to quit either his private psychiatry practice or his work on the Sphere. His teaching was suffering, and that wouldn’t be tolerated.
Luke had said only one thing before leaving. “I don’t do well with ultimatums.”
“You didn’t listen to me, Trevor. You thought I was bluffing. Now you see I wasn’t.”
Luke took the man’s right shoe off, and that’s when the tears started. Dr. Rollins began blubbering and begging. Luke worked slowly, taking the sock off next and setting both neatly to the side.