by David Beers
The screen behind her didn’t darken any, but Christian knew what it meant: the woman was dead, but the other five were alive.
Why? Why her? he wondered.
The man turned from the red X and placed the marker back in his pocket. He walked by Christian without noticing him, as if he wasn’t there at all. He opened the door behind Christian and left the room.
The door shut, leaving Christian alone again.
“This is weird,” he said.
“Things are changing in here,” the vent above said.
“I don’t like it.”
“You will later.”
“No, I won’t,” Christian said. “This isn’t supposed to be a place of riddles for me.”
“You’re never one for fun, Christian,” the vent said. It went silent and Christian knew the other had left.
The room didn’t change any, despite Christian’s protest. The woman to his right, Keely Wright, still lay on the wall with the ‘X’ drawn across her head. She was dead, and The Lover killed her.
The door behind Christian swung open.
“Come with me,” the other said. “I want to show you something I’ve been working on.”
Christian turned and followed without saying anything. He walked down the hallway behind his replica. Blood dripped from the man’s hand, creating a line of droplets along his path.
“Here,” the other said, stopping at a room Christian hadn’t seen before. He looked at the sign above, carved in stone just like all the other names.
Us, it read.
“You and I should have a place to speak, so I don’t interrupt you when you’re working. Sound nice?”
Christian looked at the other’s face for the first time since arriving. He was smiling, as always, though no blood ran from his mouth. No, now bloody tears leaked from his eyes, running down his face like horrible rain.
“Go on,” he said. “It’s ready.”
Christian opened the door to the new room and went inside. The other followed behind.
“It’s beautiful,” Christian said, unable to help himself.
Large, stone Greek statues sat in the room’s four corners. Christian didn’t know the artists or the statues’ names, but made a note to figure them out. Two large chairs sat in the middle of the room, over stuffed and with high backs. They were clearly antiques, with the leather looking worn, yet extremely comfortable. A circular glass table sat between them, with a gray metal stand holding it up. Two glasses of water sat on either side.
“I know you won’t drink out of them, but I thought they were a nice touch,” the other said.
Above the table was a single light that sat inside the ceiling.
“Come sit with me,” the other said and walked to the chair on the left.
“That’s what Luke used to say when I’d show up at his house.” Christian didn’t move.
“Is it?”
He looked at the other, still crying those bloody tears. Still smiling.
Christian walked to the second chair and sat down.
“There are no riddles in here, Christian. Only, the way you see things is changing—or rather, the way your mind communicates them to you. I need a bigger space in your life, and so a lot of our conversations will take the place of what you once saw in those rooms.”
“You don’t need any more space,” Christian said.
“It doesn’t matter what you think, and you know it.”
Christian was quiet, only looking at the brown eyes in front of him. They were clear, despite the tears that continually leaked down the other’s face.
“He’s going to kidnap again,” the other said, “and soon. If I had to guess, I’d say this weekend.”
“Why did he kill the girl on the wall?”
“I can’t say, though I’m fairly certain it happened. My mind is your mind, Christian, and you know we can’t always decipher how it comes up with what it does.”
“Something happened to her, though?”
The other nodded and Christian knew it was true. Keely Wright was no longer alive, but the others were.
“He loves them?” Christian asked.
“Yes. In his own way. He is The Lover, as much as Lucy Speckle was The Priestess.”
“Why does he kidnap them, if he loves them?”
“His sense of love is warped,” the other said.
Christian didn’t like his diction; it sounded far too much like Luke’s. Clipped and precise.
“Why are you talking like Luke?”
“You created me, Christian. You tell me.”
Christian looked away, to the statue in the right corner. He didn’t focus on it, though; he needed to decide whether the other’s speaking pattern, or the killer, was more important.
“He’ll go north next,” Christian said, mostly to himself.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” Christian’s eyes moved back to his mirror image.
“He wants someone from every state. We thought he was doing that to keep police off his trail, and he probably is, but there’s more to it. Think about the women, are they similar?”
“No,” Christian said immediately. His mind fed him all the available details. “The first four were a bit older, but all in their thirties. The second two were in their twenties. Two brunettes. Two blondes. A redhead, and the last woman had green hair.”
“Exactly. He’s taking different types each time because—”
“He’s trying out different types of women. He wants to see which one fits him best,” Christian finished.
“Yes. He’s taking them from multiple states to see what difference it makes upon their personas. But he doesn’t have anyone from D.C.—not after poor Keely’s demise—and that’s a very different place than southern Virginia.”
“So he’s coming back here.”
“And soon,” the other said.
CHRISTIAN DRESSED QUICKLY, knowing that he was already running late. He didn’t know much about weekend nightlife—actually he knew very, very little, but it stood to reason that ten at night meant the weekly ritual of drinking oneself into oblivion had already begun.
He tore through his suitcase quickly, having no idea what the hell to wear. Finally, he settled on the suit he wore to see Waverly. Blue slacks and blazer, a white button down.
It would have to work.
Christian raced to the elevator and from there out of the building, quickly requesting an Uber.
He didn’t call Luke. Christian had learned his lesson about involving others. He had learned it well.
CHRISTIAN RUSHED out of the hotel as if it were ablaze. Luke watched from the parking lot across the street, sitting in the car he’d rented earlier in the afternoon. Tommy had gone home, of course, planning on returning Sunday evening (Though Luke knew he would have pushed that to Monday morning if possible. He was dedicated to the work-life balance idea.).
Luke had stayed, though, and when Tommy asked why, he said to keep an eye on Christian. He wasn’t lying. Luke couldn’t see inside Christian’s head, but he knew the boy well enough to venture a guess that Christian would make a leap in the case. Luke had offered dinner with Christian, but was turned down … as expected—and wanted, because Luke preferred eating by himself. The worst part about dating Riley was that she always wanted to eat with him.
Eat and talk. Eat and talk. Humans were an odd species, as other animals ate in silence—only communicating when they growled at a member of their group encroaching too closely.
Luke watched Christian enter the Uber, then started his own vehicle. He hated the engine’s noise; the entire car was in fact uncomfortable, but one must make do with what one had.
Luke pulled out of the parking lot and followed his partner into the night.
CHAPTER 8
M ary Lawson thought the man in front of her was just too damn cute. Perhaps even gorgeous, though a part of her said maybe the alcohol was thinking that.
“What’s your name again?” s
he asked.
The man smiled, his teeth perfect and white even in the club’s dark atmosphere. “Ted. Think you’ll remember this time?”
“Hush!” she said, lightly slapping his shoulder. She took a sip of her drink, still smiling at him.
“Where did your friends go?” Ted asked.
Mary looked around, her eyes squinting slightly as she attempted to look through the crowd of people. “I don’t know. They’re here somewhere.”
“Do you need to go find them?”
Mary laughed. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No way. I’m trying to hold on to you forever.”
His smile was absolutely sexy.
“How old are you?” Mary asked.
“Thirty-eight. You?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Oh my God; I’m way too old for you.”
“No! I like older men,” Mary said. She couldn’t stop smiling around this guy. It was like everything he said was exactly the right thing. “Guys my age are just now starting to … I don’t know ….”
“Become men?”
“Ha! Exactly!”
Mary glanced around the club again for her friends but didn’t see them. She wondered, briefly, if she should find them. However, she was also wondering what it would be like to finish the night with Ted. She hadn’t had sex in a while, and he did seem like a nice guy.
“Do you live around here?”
“No, I’m here on business,” Ted said.
“That sucks! I won’t be able to see you again.”
“Not true. I come here a lot on business.”
“Oh that’s interesting; what do you do?”
As the conversation continued, the night grew later. Mary Lawson found that she wasn’t running out of things to talk about with Ted, and she liked that. A lot.
CHRISTIAN KNEW there were thousands of bars in downtown D.C., so he really only had one option to catch the guy, and it wasn’t a good one: go back to the bar where Keely Wright was last seen. The chance was small—infinitesimally so, actually—but maybe the kidnapper would return to the same fishing hole.
Christian entered the club without feeling awkward. Normally, he wouldn’t have even looked at a place like this from the street, but right now his mind was in control, not his personality.
He walked to an empty table in the back. The place wasn’t packed yet, but it was more than full enough for Christian. No waitress came over, and he figured it was too late for that type of interaction. If you wanted something now, you went to the bar.
Christian kept his eyes moving around the room, looking for the man that he’d seen on the video. He would stay here all night, waiting until he either found him, or the club closed. Most likely, the club would close.
An hour passed and Christian didn’t move from the table. It was too dark in this place, and the later it got, the more people piled in, making it harder and harder to see.
He finally stood up and started walking around. He’d do laps if necessary.
LUKE RECOGNIZED the awkwardness if he was caught; though if Christian saw him, explanation would be easy enough.
Luke remained at the bar, a scotch in front of him. He stood at the corner. The people bustling around him were grating on his composure. The aggressiveness with which they moved and spoke caused Luke no end of annoyance. They were all fools and in his way.
Still, Luke could see Christian from where he stood, yet he remained hidden when Christian came his way. Luke would know immediately if Christian saw him; the boy wouldn’t be able to control his reaction.
Christian wasn’t on any woman-finding mission. Luke saw that Christian’s mind controlled him now, thinking faster than perhaps anyone else in the world. He was constantly looking at individuals and dismissing them, which meant he thought the kidnapper was here.
Why? Luke wondered. What occurred this evening to give him that idea? It seemed ridiculous, or would have, if it wasn’t Christian who thought it. No, if Christian figured there was a chance the man might return, then Luke trusted him.
For all Luke’s genius, he truly was impressed with Christian’s abilities. The boy didn’t understand them, no more than a cheetah knows how it runs so fast. It was innate and unquestioned. If Christian ever gave thought to it, he might find himself lost in an area of psychology that hadn’t yet been explored. He could, in fact, make a pretty good career out of it—though Luke knew he never would. He was addicted now. To the hunt. To saving people. To …
His desire.
Luke kept looking around the bar, ignoring the talk and motion around him. He had to ignore it or go on a murder spree himself, so his mind blocked it all out the way a painter can sit at an easel for hours without ever glancing up.
Luke’s easel was this bar, and his painting was Christian. The boy’s problem wasn’t his hunch, but his tactics. He moved through the establishment like a machine, walking from one end of the place to the other. He moved slow, taking in everything, but his mind was going too fast. Dismissing too much.
Luke had spotted who they wanted. The video they watched in Christian’s office had been grainy, but the man visible in it. Christian was right—the man was here again. Absurd, making Luke wonder if the man was actually stupid. His original pattern didn’t lend itself to that assessment, but here he was, all the same.
Christian hadn’t seen him because the man was doing a decent job of concealing himself.
He sat with a young woman in the club’s VIP section. The area was roped off, and he sat in the very back at a table for two. He rarely looked out into the crowd and kept his face half hidden from anyone who might want to see him.
Christian wouldn’t see the man unless he slowed down, or simply barged into VIP. Luke thought it would be the latter, because Christian’s mind couldn’t slow down. It didn’t know how.
Luke looked at his scotch before catching a bartender’s eye.
“May I have another?”
“Sorry, what?” the woman asked.
“May I have another?” Luke said louder, annoyed that the bar couldn’t simply accommodate him.
The drink arrived and Luke continued waiting. He wondered what Christian would do when he finally found the man he so desperately wanted.
THERE WAS ONLY one area Christian hadn’t ventured to. The VIP section. He had tried viewing it from multiple angles, but simply couldn’t see everything.
Two people in particular were hidden. They sat in a corner, too far away from the floor. The rest of the groups in VIP had multiple people and all of them moved freely through the roped area and into the main bar. These two hadn’t even stood up, though, and Christian couldn’t get a clear view of the man’s face.
“Go up there and see,” the other said from his side. Christian heard him clearly despite the club’s noise.
Christian swallowed, his usual fear rearing up despite his mind’s dominance. He hadn’t used his credentials in a place like this before. He knew he could, but it was … foreign.
He shoved the fear down and approached the entrance closest to him, pulling out his wallet. A large bouncer stood in front of the red, velvet rope, weighing 260 pounds. He stood 6’2”, and dwarfed Christian in every possible way.
“Wristband,” the bouncer said without looking at Christian.
He let his wallet unfold, the FBI identification staring directly at the bouncer. “I’m Special Agent Christian Windsor and working a case. I need access back there.”
The bouncer looked down at the wallet, then reached forward and took it. He stared at it for a moment, before looking to Christian. “I’m going to need to take it out.”
“Okay.”
The bouncer pulled the ID out and seemed to feel its weight. He flipped it over and looked at the back. “Give me a second.” He tilted his head slightly back to his earpiece. “I’ve got an FBI agent here saying he needs access to VIP—”
“Stop,” Christian said, his mind grabbing control again. “No one can know I�
��m up there besides you. Tell whoever is on the other end of that thing that you’re mistaken, or you’ll be jeopardizing an investigation.”
The bouncer stopped talking and eyed Christian again. It took a second, but Christian finally saw the man’s face change. The bouncer understood he was no longer in charge of the situation—Christian’s threat stopping whatever else he’d wanted to do. He spoke into his earpiece again. “Never mind. Just someone fucking around.” He focused on Christian. “Look, if there’s going to be trouble in here, I need to know, and so does the staff.”
“There’s not going to be any trouble. Most likely, nothing will happen. You watch me from here, and if you see something spark, alert everyone, okay?”
The bouncer nodded slowly. He stepped aside and removed one end of the rope, creating an opening for Christian. “Where are you going to be?”
“On the other side. I’ll probably leave once I’ve surveilled the area. If you see me move toward someone, don’t do anything at all. Just stand here. You understand?”
The bouncer nodded again, and let Christian step through.
He immediately found the couple he wanted.
“That’s him,” the other said. “You know it’s him. You know we’re right.”
Christian said nothing; he walked across the VIP section, moving by different tables until he reached the opposite end.
“It’s him. And the girl makes sense, doesn’t she?” the other asked. “Young just like the last one … Look at her. He’s really working her. She’s in love with him already, and I’d guess he feels the same.”
Christian glanced to his right and saw his replica standing there, smiling like an evil clown. Joy found only in other’s suffering.
“What are you going to do?” the other asked.
Christian didn’t know. He hadn’t actually thought he’d see the man here, but there he was, in the flesh and ready to take someone else.
“Are you going to call Luke? Maybe tell the bouncer?”
Seconds passed by slowly as Christian focused on the man, looking at his smile, at the way his eyes held such glee.