Mercurial Dreams

by Hadena James

  “If anyone could change a psychopath, I believe it is you, Ace.” Gabriel tossed his cigarette butt out the window. “We should hang out together more often. Believe it or not, I kind of like you, even when you are scandalizing my friends.”

  “Gabriel...” I started to say something.

  “It isn’t romantic,” Gabriel cut me off. “I just like having you around. Not only are you interesting, but it increases my life expectancy.”

  “Ok then,” I relaxed into my seat. “How much longer do we have to wait?”

  “Not much longer. If he hasn’t shown up yet, he probably isn’t going to, I just like watching Xavier sweat it out.”

  “Sadist,” I grinned.

  “Sometimes,” Gabriel grinned back and pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Lucas?”

  “Yep,” the radio crackled in Gabriel’s hand.

  “I think we can call it a day. Ace and I are done bonding and Xavier looks hot.”

  “Same tomorrow?” Lucas’s voice sounded tinny over the radio.

  “Yep, same tomorrow.” Gabriel let go of the radio. Officer Gomez stepped out of the SUV and began walking towards Xavier, when a red dented Chevrolet pick-up truck pulled up and stopped where the day laborers were hanging out.

  There was static on the radio. I waited for the guys to say something, but the radio stopped crackling. The guy in the truck wasn’t talking to Xavier, he was talking to Officer Gomez. From where we were sitting, we could see Xavier walk past Gomez and drop something on the ground next to him. It appeared to be chewing gum.

  “Did he just pass off his tracking device?” I asked.

  “I think so.”

  “In used gum?”

  “Uh huh. Here’s to hoping Gomez realizes to step on it.”

  “Gross,” I said.

  Xavier walked around to the rear of the truck next and pretended to be looking for another car. We watched as he slipped something into the bed of the truck.

  “I hope that was the tracker,” I commented.

  “Me too. Otherwise, someone is going to have to get it out of Gomez’s shoe later.”

  “I am so not volunteering for that.”

  We waited. Gomez did not step in the chewing gum and Xavier’s loitering seemed to go unnoticed. As soon as the truck was pulling away, the radio crackled again.

  “Xavier put a tracker on the truck. We can follow using the computer,” Michael said to us.

  “What was with the chewing gum?” I asked.

  “You can ask Xavier when you see him,” Michael answered. Sure enough, the hot and sweaty medical doctor was coming our direction. He pulled open the back door and climbed in.

  “You kind of stink,” I told him.

  “Worse than coming out of the morgue?” Xavier asked.

  “It’s a different stink,” I said. “What was the deal with the chewing gum?”

  “What gum?” Xavier asked.

  “You tossed gum on the ground next to Gomez,” Gabriel said.

  “I was just tired of chewing it. I spit it there to give Gomez a distraction while he steeled his nerves up. He appeared nervous when the guy first started talking to him. I put a tracker on the back of the truck.”

  “I see,” I said.

  Eighteen

  We followed Lucas and Michael. Michael had the computer that was tracking Officer Gomez and a possible killer. I was interested to see how Gomez would react in this situation.

  The truck stopped inside a construction area. Several houses were in different stages of completion. Lucas parked behind one of more completed houses and Gabriel joined him. The entire place was quiet, eerily quiet. No sounds of construction were present. There were no workers standing around, talking.

  “I’ll get out and poke around,” I told Gabriel, opening the door before he could protest. I didn’t know what I expected to find, but I was hoping to know it when I saw it. The problem with being a sociopath was low impulse control. It made me a crappy investigator, but good at getting things done.

  The house we had parked behind was over halfway done. It had sides and a roof. However, construction was another thing I knew little about so I couldn’t get real technical on the stages of building. On the flip side, it was obvious that this was not going to be your general, cookie cutter neighborhood. Each house seemed to have a different architectural design.

  None of them had green lawns and chances that they would eventually get there were slim. Instead, elaborate patterns were laid out on the desert floor on the more completed houses. Stakes and string were stuck in the ground, marking out patterns that the eye couldn’t quite decipher.

  If I wanted to live in a plague infested, very dry climate that got hellishly hot, this would be a good neighborhood to live in. It took a while, but I finally heard the sounds of people. One of them was Jake Gomez. I slithered around the house and saw Gomez apply bags of QuickCrete into what I assumed was a concrete form for a sidewalk.

  While I was an admitted idiot on construction, I was pretty sure that QuickCrete was not standard practice for concrete workers. I loitered around the house, observing, but not really sure whether to charge in with guns drawn or not.

  That’s when I noticed the concrete next to me was wet. The longer I stared, the more defined the shape of the wet concrete became. I also noticed that there was something sticking out of the wet concrete. I reached down.

  “Excuse me,” the guy driving the pick-up truck said. Since there was only Gomez and I around, I guessed he was talking to me. I stood back up.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “This is a construction site, not a tourist attraction,” the guy was now walking towards me.

  “You think I’m a tourist?” I asked, somewhat shocked by his assumption.

  “Well, what are you then?” He was immediately aggressive. I popped a muscle in my neck to stop myself from reaching for a gun.

  “I’m an inspector for the City of Las Vegas,” I lied through my teeth with the first thought that came to mind.

  “Bullshit,” he called my bluff.

  “You’re right, I’m not,” I pulled my badge. “US Marshal. I’m guessing that your laborer over there has a green card?”

  “The US Marshals don’t enforce immigration,” the guy sneered at me.

  “They do when Immigration and Customs Enforcement is very busy. I was watching the day laborers earlier and I had checked everyone but that one,” I said.

  “So I get in trouble for being late?” He sneered again.

  “I guess that depends on how cooperative you are and if he has a green card,” I stepped in the wet concrete. I immediately regretted it. My foot found something squishy and a reddish fluid surfaced above the concrete. “I’m not a construction expert, but I don’t think concrete is supposed to do that.”

  The guy in the truck turned white and his eyes got wide. He reached for something.

  “Don’t do it,” I said very calmly. The darkness washed over me and I went to that still place.

  The guy pulled out a cell phone as I drew my gun. He held his hands up. Gomez was now running towards us. I hit a button on my own phone and called in the cavalry.

  “I didn’t pour that,” the guy stammered at me. “There were a few other contractors here earlier.”

  “Well, at the moment, you’re being detained by the Serial Crimes Tracking Unit. I don’t suppose you know the names of the other contractors that were here?” I asked.

  “No,” the guy stammered again.

  “That’s going to be a problem. You ok Gomez?” I asked the officer.

  “Aside from working on crappy concrete, I’m great,” Officer Gomez responded. I decided I liked him.

  “We should call in a crime scene unit,” I said as Gabriel rounded the corner. I pointed to my concrete covered shoe and the reddish fluid floating on the wet grey concrete.

  “Is that QuickCrete?” Xavier asked.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “This body has been here less than an
hour, maybe two,” Xavier said. “I worked concrete when I was in high school.”

  “Those were the days,” I lowered my gun as Lucas began to cuff the pickup truck owner.

  “It sucked,” Lucas said. “Xavier and I both did it for two summers. There are few things worse than pouring and finishing concrete.”

  “Hunting serial killers?” I asked.

  “Much better,” Xavier answered. Gabriel was talking on his phone.

  “This was very anticlimactic,” I frowned.

  “Only because you didn’t get to shoot anyone,” Michael joined us. He touched a cactus and the top of it broke off. It was still attached to this hand.

  “Really?” Xavier looked at him. “It’s a cactus, you don’t touch them.”

  “It looked fuzzy,” Michael was trying unsuccessfully to gently pull the cactus bit out of his hand.

  “It’s a teddy bear cactus and that’s how they reproduce. You’re going to have to go to the hospital to get all those spines removed,” Gomez said.

  “Damn,” Michael finally got the main part of the cactus off his hand, but the spines stayed stuck in his skin.

  “Well, we definitely have a body in the concrete. And a quick check of records reveals that this would be the guy contracted to pour the concrete,” Gabriel hung up his phone. “Adam Minter, you are under arrest, you have no rights. Get equipment in to tear up all the concrete he’s poured.”

  Lucas jerked Adam Minter using the handcuffs. Adam fell to the ground. Lucas picked him up, slung him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and took him to the car. He locked him in the SUV.

  “He’ll get heat stroke in there,” Xavier said, examining Michael’s hand.

  “Serves him right,” Lucas answered. “So, we think this is our serial killer?”

  “There were female bodies,” Xavier pulled a spine from Michael’s hand. Michael yelped.

  “Not many female day laborers around here,” Gomez said.

  “Shit,” I watched as a rodent ran across the unpaved street in front of me.

  “Was that a prairie dog?” Gabriel asked.

  “I believe it was,” I answered. “Just don’t pet them or pick them up or let them get too close.”

  “This is becoming a cliché,” Gabriel sighed. Glass shattered. Lucas and I ran around the corner in time to see our suspect crawling out a window. He managed to get up on his feet and dart around the house as Lucas and I stared in disbelief. Suspects did not break windows and run away in our world, especially handcuffed. Gabriel was right, it was becoming a cliché and maybe a comedy of errors.

  I drew my gun and sprinted in the direction our handcuffed suspect had run. As I edged around another house that was more or less complete, something swept my feet out from under me. My head bounced against the hard ground as the suspect came into view. He had maneuvered his handcuffs into the front and pressed the chain against my neck.

  Instinct kicked in and I shove my knee into his groin, grinding until his face turned red and the handcuff chain loosened. My forearm went to his neck and I rolled him over onto his back. He was in too much pain to fight back. I let go of him as Lucas rounded the corner and found us.

  “He’s bleeding,” Lucas said. “Or you are.”

  “I’m not,” I looked at myself. There was blood on my clothing. I lifted my pant leg for a second time. The stitches had ripped out and my blood oozed down my leg. “Well hell.”

  “I think he is too,” Lucas pointed to my knee. Blood decorated it in odd patterns. I got off the suspect. The crotch of his jeans was soaked in blood and it was spreading up the front.

  “I didn’t do it that hard,” I protested.

  “Or you did and didn’t realize it,” Lucas started talking into his cell phone. Xavier and Gabriel came around the corner. Xavier kicked into doctor mode.

  “He’s worse than me,” I pointed to the bleeding suspect. Xavier unzipped the fly and unbuttoned the jeans. He looked at Lucas and the two men stripped him of his pants. I turned around.

  “Uh, he is messing a testicle, you might check the ground for something rubbery looking and off white,” Xavier said.

  “I’m not looking for it,” I commented.

  “You don’t have to,” Gabriel said with something in his voice. I turned back around. He was pointing at my concrete covered shoe. Stuck to the top was something that looked like an egg-shaped rubber ball.

  “Oh, that’s just gross and wrong,” I went to kick the shoe off and Lucas bent down.

  “Don’t kick it off,” Lucas removed the shoe carefully from my foot. The ground was hot beneath my foot, like I was standing on sun-baked concrete.

  “Remind me not to piss her off,” Gomez muttered.

  “We all remind ourselves of that, often,” Michael answered as an ambulance and a crime scene unit came into view. Xavier talked to the paramedics and handed them my shoe. Then he pointed to me and my blood stained jeans. I wasn’t sure what he was saying, but I guessed I was getting yet another trip to the ER.

  “Go, get mended again, we’ll start digging up the concrete and you can come back and join us,” Gabriel said. “Take Michael with you.”

  “Really?” I frowned at my team leader.

  “You’re bleeding,” Gabriel said.

  “I don’t feel it,” I said. “Just have Xavier slap some superglue on it and we’ll call it good.”

  “Aislinn,” Gabriel started. I knew he was about to issue an order. “All right, super glue it closed and you can stand in the heat with us.”

  “Goodie,” I smiled at him. Xavier moved me to a cop car. Lucas helped me on the hood. Xavier pulled some magic glue from his pocket and began applying it to my leg. The super glue burned. However, in the calm, dark place, pain was relative and this I could handle. I didn’t stand, keeping my ass firmly planted on the hood of the cruiser while everyone went to work around me.

  As dark began to fall several hours later, my desire to stay at the crime scene had definitely waned. Men with jackhammers were tearing up concrete in very distinct patterns. Xavier was checking for remains. Our sunken concrete covered body had already been carted to the morgue and we’d heard from the hospital that our suspect was in a ton of pain, but stable. This last little bit of information was the least of my worries. And I still didn’t have a shoe.

  “Number nine!” Xavier yelled. Considering the bodies trapped in concrete were all male and none of them mummified, the chances of Adam Minter being our serial killer was slim and leaning towards none.

  I didn’t mind catching multiple serial killers in a single trip, far from it, but the fact that it wasn’t our serial killer was still frustrating. We were no closer to catching him now, then when we had woken up that morning.

  “You look glum,” Lucas said.

  “Our killer is more organized than this one,” I answered.

  “Yep,” Lucas answered.

  “How many freaking serial killers prey on homeless people and day laborers in this city?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

  “Probably more than their estimates. If I had to guess, this guy is killing to cut corners. He gets someone to help with labor and then kills them to save himself some money. He isn’t even using good concrete,” Lucas said.

  “People suck,” I said.

  “That they do,” Lucas answered.

  “Ten!” Xavier yelled.

  “They are going to start tearing up foundations tomorrow,” Gabriel walked over and leaned against the cruiser. He handed me a lit cigarette. I took it. “Your instincts paid off, again. But I hate when you don’t let us know the plan. It is harder to offer you protection.”

  “Do I need protection?” I asked.

  “Ok, back-up, not protection,” Gabriel corrected.

  “Sorry, I was winging it. If I hadn’t seen what I thought was a shirt sticking out of the concrete, I would have walked away without a second thought,” I shrugged. “He just didn’t give off the serial killer vibe. I got over-worked, stressed-out co
ntractor, but not serial killer.”

  “We can’t be perfect all the time,” Gabriel said. “Gomez thinks you saved his life or at least a severe beating while he fought for his life.”

  “He’s welcome,” I answered absently. “Did you notice that you can’t see any stars in this place?”

  “Yeah, so?” Gabriel asked.

  “I find it disconcerting,” I answered.

  “You find a starless sky disconcerting after you kneed a guy so hard that his scrotum ruptured?” Lucas asked.

  “He tried to choke me with your handcuffs,” I defended myself.

  “You are still a mystery,” Gabriel pushed away from the car. “There isn’t much more to do tonight. You’re getting a bruise on your neck. Go back to the hotel, take a shower and read something other than books about cannibals.”

  “Is that an order?” I asked.

  “Yep and Lucas is ordered to take care of you until you fall asleep or shoot him,” Gabriel walked away.

  “Your chariot awaits, my dear,” Lucas held out his hand and helped me off the cruiser. I took it and slid off the car’s hood. My barefoot hit the ground and sent a shockwave up my foot.

  Nineteen

  I slept like shit. Gabriel came in and talked to Lucas about a missing person in Henderson, Nevada. Some woman who disappeared while her car sat in the driveway of her house. The husband was a politician and raising a big fuss. Fortunately for us, missing person cases were not in our purview.