Baltimore, Maryland
Murdock, Felton, and Maguire sat in Sage’s old office with case notes they’d received from another pair of detectives from another region in Baltimore. A man named Joaquin Hernandez was impaled by a forklift at his job in a department store in the Eastwood area of Baltimore. Sergeant Murdock heard about the death and requested information, which they hadn’t received, aside from the name.
“They’re not going to send anything over,” Detective Felton murmured. “They probably think we’re out to snake the case from them.”
“We are though,” Murdock reminded him. “If Hernandez is the fourteenth victim then he’s a part of the investigation.”
“And if he’s not then we don’t need to worry about their case.”
“We really only need to know if he had a scar though, don’t we?” Bryce asked them.
“Yes, but we’d then need to follow up and dig into Hernandez’s life to find out who the next person could be.”
“There won’t be time though,” Murdock told them. He brought out a small calendar Bryce had drawn up and showed them the date of the next death. “It’s tomorrow, which means that unless we knew right now that Joaquin Hernandez is the fourteenth victim and started searching for the fifteenth as soon as possible, there isn’t any way for us to figure out who it could be.”
“And the odds aren’t in our favor to find them anyway,” Felton sighed.
Bryce scowled and asked if there was anything they could do besides wait. Neither man said there was much they could do.
“Where’s Officer Hendricks?”
“It was her day off today,” Felton told Bryce, “So we could always drop by her place and let her know of the possible update, or we could always just wait until tomorrow, considering it won’t make much of a difference at this point anyway.”
Bryce asked where she lived anyway. “I can’t sit here and twiddle my thumbs until we actually find something.”
“What good is it going to do by telling her we might know who the next victim is?” Murdock asked him. “This isn’t some regular case Maguire. Yes we have to take a lot of long shot guesses because of the nature of this whole thing, but this one area, who each victim is, that’s the one unchanging variable we have to work with, which means we need to make damn sure we’re right before he head off in the wrong direction.”
Bryce conceded, slumped forward in his seat, and asked what else they could do in the meantime.
---*---
3:50 PM
Seattle, Washington
“What do you think?” Rachel asked Vladimir.
“I like it, but I thought we were going to take photos of the city,” he said.
They stopped off at the Seattle Art Museum after wandering throughout the city all day. Rachel wouldn’t admit it, but Vladimir guessed she wanted a slight removal from the sweltering afternoon. She also claimed she wanted to show him some of her favorite paintings, (though Vladimir wasn’t familiar with any of the works of art or the artists).
Rachel obviously wanted to linger in the museum rather than continue to trek through the blazing streets of the emerald city. She evaded his question and led him to a section of the museum with aboriginal art from Australia. Vladimir didn’t pay too much attention to the items though; he wanted everything to move along rather than stall where they were.
“I gather Jordan turned your offer down?” he started up their conversation again.
“He said he’d be working today, so I didn’t pressure him about it.”
“Did you mention that I was going to accompany you?”
She didn’t look at him, “Ah, no, I just asked.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Why bother?”
Vladimir didn’t reply.
They wandered through the exhibit with a small separation between them. Rachel acted interested in the pieces while Vladimir was more than aware of the awkward air between them. He didn’t want to be alone with her and he knew just as well that he shouldn’t have been there beside her without her boyfriend’s knowledge of their afternoon together. They only planned on busing to Seattle, walking around for pictures, and returning home. Rachel turned it into something Vladimir knew was on the verge of becoming something beyond two friends sharing a pleasant afternoon with one another.
“Hey,” she called out to him in a hushed tone, “Come look at this one.”
He stopped her though and asked, “What are we doing here?”
Rachel looked at him oddly and asked what he meant.
“I mean why did you bring me here?”
“I wanted to show you how great this place is.”
“And why did you neglect to tell Jordan about this?” he asked. “There is no way he would appreciate being kept in the dark about our afternoon alone with each other.”
“Who cares?” Rachel flatly said. “It’s not like I planned this Vladimir. We were just in the area and I thought you’d enjoy it. Now come on and see this with me.”
She took his hand and led him to a large mask. He hardly looked at it though. Rachel didn’t say anything else; she only held onto his hand while they stood there. Vladimir searched for an excuse to get away and tried to find another place of interest, yet Rachel followed closely on his heels. They ended up in a twentieth century American modern art exhibit.
Vladimir put some distance between them when he pulled his hand away from her. They stood only arm’s length away from each other and he knew she was aware of what bothered him.
“What do you think you are going to draw for the art project?” Vladimir asked her to break the silence.
“I’m not too sure yet,” she admitted.
“I think I might paint the view of the city we had when we rode up over that bridge into the city, where we could see the Space Needle, the lake, and the cityscape very well.”
“That sounds nice,” he agreed with her and walked on to the next painting.
“Are you hungry?” Rachel suddenly asked him.
“No, not really,” he blatantly told her.
“Oh.”
Vladimir walked away from her. He needed something to distract her from him. It wasn’t entertaining anymore, he knew something was off and that they were overstepping their bounds and all he wanted was to walk away and let her be. A small booth soliciting an up-and-coming event where the museum would house the work of Vincent Van Gogh caught his eye and he immediately drew her attention there. “Look at this.”
Rachel did and read the brief advertisement about the event. She smiled and remarked at how unique of an opportunity it would be. “I don’t think these works will be collected like this again for a long time. And it says here that they’re giving away passes to the event as part of a drawing.”
“Well then you should enter.”
“Yeah, maybe. Why don’t you though?”
He stepped away and told her that he wasn’t eligible because he wasn’t a resident of the state or even a citizen of the United States. “You should enter though.”
She only shook her head and declined. “I wouldn’t win anyway.”
“How can you be so sure of that?”
“Well what are the odds anyway?”
Vladimir let out a breath and mumbled, “With thoughts like that you would be a shoe in.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” he sighed again.
“No, what’s the matter?”
He withheld his opinions and told her they should be on their way.
“No,” she stopped him. “Listen, if it really is that big of a deal to you I’ll do it.” She wrote her name, email, phone number, and address on the card and slipped it into the box next to the stand. “Is that better?”
“This has nothing to do with the contest Rachel.”
“Then what’s this about? Why’re you acting strangely?”
“I am not comfortable with the way things are right now.”
She blinked. “What are you talking
about?”
Vladimir looked away from her and asked why she never told Jordan about the trip. “If you told him I was going to join you today, he would have said something to either withhold you from going or he would have accompanied us. You never wanted him to join us though.”
“I did.”
Vladimir shook his head and whispered, “You are lying.”
“No I’m not!” she shouted. “Damn it Vladimir, who cares if it’s just you and me? Who cares about what Jordan thinks? He’s never showed any interest in what I like unless its drugs or partying and this falls well outside of those relatively small areas.”
“Rachel–”
“This isn’t about him at all.”
Vladimir looked her in the eye and told her that it was. “I cannot be a part of a life where you want to go behind your boyfriend’s back to be with me.”
Rachel glared at him and said she wasn’t. “We’re not doing anything–”
“But it will become something if this persists.” He took a breath and apologized and told her he needed to leave. “I cannot come between you and him. I won’t.”
“Vladimir.”
He told her to stop. “Rachel, please, just leave this alone.” He started to walk away and apologized again. “I’ll see you in class on Monday.”
Rachel watched him leave and bitterly told herself that he was wrong. She didn’t move though, as his words and their conversation echoed through her head. As much as she hated the allegations Vladimir placed upon her, she knew he was right. Jordan hadn’t ever been the greatest boyfriend but Rachel knew he didn’t deserve to be cheated on or lied to. She wouldn’t want him to sneak around behind her back either. Rachel cursed under her breath and slowly headed for the exit while she contemplated what to do about the two boys she felt so strongly about.
---*---
7:45 PM
Baltimore, Maryland
Officer Maguire struggled to endure his workday without calling Mia to update her about the investigation. His thoughts raced from point to point in the investigation and finally after his shift ended he quickly found himself at her door. Bryce took a breath to compose himself (as well as catch his breath, since he walked to and from work on a daily basis and as such ran to her home), and knocked.
She answered after a few seconds and was surprised to see him. “What do you want Maguire?”
Bryce smiled and said, “I just wanted to drop by and tell you that there’s been a development in the case.”
Mia looked very cautiously at him and asked what it was.
“We think a guy named Joaquin Hernandez is the fourteenth victim,” he started to say, but quickly corrected himself, “Er…we think it’s him. We’re not entirely sure, since we weren’t the first ones on the case. I mean, we haven’t even seen the body or confirmed the scar, but, well, we’re pretty sure it’s him.”
Mia let out a breath and told him it was Joaquin Hernandez. “I drove out to the site and spoke with the detectives as soon as I’d heard about it. They didn’t want to say anything about their case, but I managed to find out that he does have the crescent scar on his arm.”
Bryce blinked. “Um…Well, I guess you really didn’t need me to drop by.” He wasn’t sure what to do or say next, but asked, “Why’d you go out of your way to figure out whether it was him or not? Especially on your day off.”
Mia shrugged. “Probably the same reason you went out of your way to drop by and tell me about him.”
Bryce nodded and searched for the words he should say next. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Mia said the same and shut the door.
He didn’t move for a moment. Crows flew behind him and sirens wailed off in the distance, but Bryce wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t expected her to welcome him into her home with open arms and a warm beverage, but their meeting felt terse. Bryce turned around and head back toward the streets, but stopped when he saw a homeless man next to a payphone.
“Spare some change mister?” he asked Bryce.
He would have said no, but the payphone caught his eye. It was covered with a message that read in red paint, ‘MIA STOP CLADIS.’ Bryce looked closer at the message and noticed that the paint was relatively fresh, and that the words were painted over a poorly painted coat of gray.
Bryce asked the man how long he’d been out there. The man scratched his bearded chin and said the whole day. “Did you see someone paint this message here?”
“What message?”
“This one,” he said while he showed the booth off to the beggar. “Did anyone use it and leave this message behind?”
He scratched his ratty hair and said, “Most people just walk by me and don’t use the phone. There was this one guy who looked as bad off as me who used it for a moment.”
“What’d he look like?” Bryce asked.
“He was in tatters and rags,” he said, “Just like me.”
“Yes, but what did he look like?”
The man only shrugged and admitted that he didn’t get a good look at his face.
Bryce thanked him, gave him a few bucks for his help, and raced back to Mia’s apartment. He dashed up the stairs, pounded on her door, and tried his best to catch his breath before Mia answered.
“What?”
“Did you…” he tried to catch his breath once again, “Have you seen the phone out there?”
“What about it?”
“Did you see what’s painted in there?”
Mia frowned and asked what it was. He told her about the message and she swore. “I just painted over that a few days ago and it’s back now?”
Bryce only looked at her and asked, “You knew about that?”
She said she did.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“It’s not important,” she told him. “Was there a homeless looking guy there when you saw it?”
Bryce felt his heart miss a beat. “What about him?” he asked.
Mia swore again and ran outside and to the street to see if he was still there, which he wasn’t. Bryce caught up to her and only saw the few dollars he’d given the man on the sidewalk where the man sat before.
She rubbed her eyes and told Bryce to follow her back to her apartment. “I need to show you something.”
They walked back up to her apartment and though he had a lot of questions, the list only grew exponentially once he saw the sorry state of her apartment. Mia’s apartment had worsened. The walls were plastered with papers, most of which were photos, short bios on the victims, testimonies of witnesses, and notes throughout the room. She had the same sticky notes Detective Sage used, with questions posted throughout the room and next to individual victim’s lengthy areas of her wall. Her kitchen counter had four short, disorganized piles of papers labeled from ‘heroes outside of Baltimore’ to ‘locations and possible meanings.’
Bryce looked around and found a vastly expanded version of the victim’s wall in Detective Sage’s old office along with nearly a hundred different images from all around the city. Her floors, counters, couch, and he guessed her bed were all covered in clothes, garbage, documents she’d obviously discarded, and dozens of other items.
“What the hell happened?” he asked without thinking.
“I don’t really have time to pick up right now,” she told him. “Listen,” Mia looked him in the eye, “Do not breathe a word of all of this to anyone, alright? Not to Sergeant Murdock, Detective Felton, and especially not to the chief, okay?”
He slowly agreed. “You know they said we weren’t supposed to take notes right?”
“Does it look like I listened to them Maguire?” she asked rhetorically while she cleared a small walking path toward her kitchen to access some of the documents on her counter. Mia dug through the stack of heroes outside of Baltimore and asked if Bryce knew of any hero closer to Baltimore than Doctor Diet in Philadelphia.
“No, sorry.” He waited a moment and asked, “What’s that got to do w
ith the case?”
“There aren’t any true heroes in the city, considering Cladis seems to kill anyone with any semblance of an ability within the first few days of them gaining their ability. I originally had a theory that there was a pattern similar to the one here that would show when people would gain abilities elsewhere, but I’ve since disregarded the idea since numbers aren’t growing exponentially and multiple cases across the world are impossible to manage from here.”
“You could use REFOIA,” he suggested.
But Mia said she didn’t have time to. “This is just an alternative avenue I’d like to manage in case it ever becomes vital to the case, but I doubt it ever will.”
“Is there anything you need me to do?”
“Not here,” she said. “I need you to act like you’ve never seen this before and to keep your mouth shut about that phone booth and the homeless guy, okay?”
“Who was that?”
She told him she was working on that as well.
“Do you think it’s Cladis?”
Mia stopped what she was doing and looked at him crossly. “Why the hell would Cladis waste his time to tell me to find him? If Cladis had any interest in me it’d be to simply find and kill me, and since that hasn’t happened yet there’s no reason to think it would be him.”
“Okay, then who do you think it is?”
She sighed and said she wasn’t sure. “It could be someone who read about all of this on REFOIA and is messing with me because they know I’m a cop.”
“Do you think someone could be–”
Mia cut him off and told him, “What I need you to do for me, Maguire, is to look into how many of the victims were buried and how many of them were cremated, okay?”
“Sure, but why?”
“You remember that Detective Sage’s corpse was stolen, right?”
“Of course.”
“Well, so was Jenna Bell’s, and as one of them was the twelfth victim I can’t help but wonder whether the rest of the victim’s bodies were stolen or not.”
Bryce frowned, “But wouldn’t someone have noticed multiple grave robberies?”
Mia shook her head, “I don’t think the bodies ever reached their graves.” She went on to briefly explain that it would be simpler for Cladis to remove the bodies before they made it into the grave, otherwise someone would notice. “Just let me know how many were cremated and how many were actually buried.”
Impact (Book 1): Regenesis Page 37