Law of Five

by Robin Mahle

  “So where are we headed now?” Katie asked from the passenger seat of Nick’s rental car.

  “I’m going to drop you off at the station. I’ll need to head back here and put a call into Myers to get whatever we can on Branson and have her meet me here. We’ll have to brief the ASAC. Agent Jameson is heading up this evening after he finishes in Phoenix. We’re going to find out where this Lewis Branson lives and have a little chat with him.”

  Katie had seen that look on Agent Scarborough’s face before. It was as if the fate of the next victim rested solely on his shoulders.

  17

  SHAUN HUDSON SHIFTED in the fifth-row seat of his lecture class on Pre-World War II European History. He would have preferred to stay home today, playing Call of Duty on his Xbox, but missing another class might get him kicked out. And if he got kicked out, he would lose his job at the Admin Building.

  His mind was preoccupied with Edward Shalot. Shaun wondered how long it would take for the FBI and the San Diego Police Department to find out that he’d taken a payoff to hand over Katie Reid’s file to Shalot, if they hadn’t known already. It would only take the question to be presented to Shalot and he would rat out Shaun. Why wouldn’t he? He was being held for murder and possibly could be connected to more than one. Why not take someone else down with him? This had all gotten out of hand and Shaun needed a way out.

  He knew Edward’s curiosity about Katie Reid verged on the obsessed. It seemed every time they hung out, he was always mentioning her in some capacity. He should have known then. But, he needed the money. He’d lost his ass in that poker game and Ty wanted to get paid. What choice did Shaun have?

  Only now, sitting in the uncomfortable seat, he felt bound by guilt. Katie wasn’t the type of woman to allow herself to get swept up in the likes of Edward Shalot. Even if she had been attracted to him, it would only take her finding out what they were into and she’d have been out the door in no time.

  Still, it wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Lindsay Brown was dead, Edward was in some FBI holding cell, waiting to spend the rest of his life in prison for killing her and here Shaun was, listening to the professor speak of a time of conspiracies, spies, and the rise of a man who had once been an artist, but was about to become the most evil human being the world had ever known.

  His cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he reached inside to silence the call. A few of his classmates cast disapproving looks in his direction. Most of his friends knew he was in class and so he was sure it was someone unknown to him.

  At the end of the session, Shaun gathered his belongings and headed outside into the cool midday air. He retrieved his phone to find out the identity of the caller who’d interrupted his class. The ID said unknown, but there was a voicemail.

  Shaun began down the concrete path towards his afternoon job in records, holding the phone to his ear to listen to the message. He closed his eyes as the message came, just as he expected it would.

  The idea of leaving town now seemed very appealing, but they would most certainly find him. His gambling habit had gotten him into this and now he wished he’d never met Lewis Branson.

  ***

  Agent Myers stood outside the door where Scarborough was meeting with the ASAC. The man behind the desk, ASAC Newland, tossed a glance her way, signaling she had permission to enter.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Myers began, “but we got a hit on Lewis Branson.” She tossed a file on the desk, the contents of which spilled out in front of the men. “The man’s been arrested for sexual assault and served time in Englewood, Colorado in 2006, served time in Roederer, outside Louisville, prior to that on a drugs charge in 2002, and has been living in Oceanside since 2013.”

  Scarborough looked to Myers. “Is it me, or does it seem like this guy lived near a few of our victims at one time or another?”

  “Maybe he started up smaller groups of followers, moving on to begin other ones as he found his next home?” ASAC Newland replied.

  “Our partners at San Diego PD came across this as well,” Myers continued, flipping through the file and retrieving information on multiple websites. “These are essentially online communities for the followers to connect with one another. Although there seems to be no one in particular they reference as the leader, many of them defer to Lewis Branson for decisions on where to hold meetings and events. Branson does appear to be the de facto leader of the group.”

  Scarborough continued to study the information. “Let’s get Detective Gibbons to take a trip up to Oceanside with us and catch up to Mr. Branson.”

  ***

  The evidence collected at Lindsay Brown’s home had all been catalogued. Katie turned in her report to CSI Sanderson. “Everything’s in the system now,” she said, handing him the printouts. “Here’s the chain of custody as well.”

  “Thank you, Katie.” Sanderson looked up from his computer monitor in the lab. “I understand you’ve been assisting the FBI on this matter as well?”

  “Unfortunately, it turns out that I happened to have a class with the suspect. They thought I might be of use, that’s all,” Katie replied.

  “Well, I’m sure your assistance was appreciated.”

  Katie smiled and started to leave.

  “Will you be pursuing a position here in the lab when you finish your schooling? You know, there’s a great deal of detective work involved here too,” Sanderson told her.

  “I haven’t decided just yet.” She turned to reply.

  “If you do, I’d be more than happy to have you on the CSU. Just keep that in mind.”

  “I will, and thank you.” Katie headed back towards her cubicle to log out and go home. It was approaching six o’clock already and, frankly, after seeing Shalot again, she thought a drink might be order.

  “You heading out for class?” Detective Gibbons caught up with Katie in the hall.

  “Not tonight.”

  “You know, Scarborough and his team found out where Lewis Branson lives. I’m riding up with them to Oceanside tomorrow morning. I guess the guy works at some warehouse, for a brewer, I think; not sure. Anyway, we’re gonna have a word with him. They say he’s served time and lived near where some of the victims had been found.”

  Katie felt as though she had done the best she could today and now it was likely that her time was up. Myers had been working with other agents to corroborate her findings, and now they would be able to talk to Branson in hopes he might give them some names. Shalot wouldn’t be getting out at all by the looks of things and now the only piece of information they needed was Marc’s source and Gibbons was all over that.

  “Sounds like it should be an interesting conversation. Probably not coincidental that the guy lived near some of the same locations as the victims.”

  Gibbons continued beside her as they approached her cubicle. “Not really, no. They think that he may have started groups of followers in those areas.”

  “It’s curious, though, that there’s nothing I found in my research that would indicate a tendency for violence in any form from those who follow Discordianism. It doesn’t seem to make sense.”

  “You’re right.” Gibbons leaned an arm over the top of her cube wall. “There’s something else at play here. We’re all hoping Branson can shed some light on it.”

  Katie shut down her computer and grabbed her things. “I’d better get going. Marshall and I are going to actually try to have dinner out tonight.”

  Gibbons stepped aside. “Must be difficult,” he began. “My wife couldn’t possibly handle knowing what I have to deal with on a daily basis.”

  Katie moved past him. “You might be surprised what she could handle. Good night and good luck tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” His voice traveled down the hall, reaching Katie before she turned the corner and disappeared.

  Katie had her coat draped over her arm and stood in the doorway of Marshall’s office. “Hey, you ready to get out of here? Thought we could pick a nice spot in the Gaslamp,
have a quiet meal?”

  Marshall turned away from his computer, looking at her slender frame that was partially obscured behind the coat she held in front of her. “You look a little tired; you still feel like going out?”

  “I think both of us could use a break, don’t you?” She ambled her way inside and sat down. “You still working on the Guzman case? I thought it was sent to Homicide?”

  “It was. And, no I’m not working on it right now.” Marshall rubbed the top of his head. That was his tell. Something was on his mind.

  “What is it then?” she pressed on.

  “I was looking into a few things. Shalot and Hudson. Both of these guys have clean records, well, except for Shalot’s recent restraining order, but otherwise, they’re squeaky clean. Both grew up in relatively normal families and middle-class neighborhoods.”

  “Okay.” She wasn’t quite seeing his path on this one and waited for him to continue.

  “Look, I’m certainly no expert on the occult, but these types of things usually attract outsiders, you know? People who are maybe a little on the socially awkward side, maybe withdrawn. Bullied in school. People looking for acceptance. People looking to belong somewhere. Neither of these guys seem to fit that profile.”

  “Well,” Katie started, “Edward doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends.”

  “No. But he did back home, before he moved here last year. At least, from what I read in the fed’s background investigation.”

  “He moved here last year? When and from where?”

  Marshall clicked the mouse a couple of times, studying the computer screen. “Colorado. A place called Greenley, around mid-December last year.”

  His words sent an immediate chill down her spine. “Gibbons mentioned that he and Scarborough were going to talk to Branson tomorrow. He moved to Oceanside last year. From what I gathered, Myers discovered that Branson had lived in Colorado and served time in Englewood for an assault charge.” Katie recalled the interview with Shalot earlier and began shaking her head. “Edward made it appear as though he knew of Branson only as the organizer of the meetings. I’m starting to believe he wasn’t being completely honest as to the nature of their relationship. I just don’t know why.”

  Marshall seemed to understand exactly what she was getting at. “I don’t know if Myers made the connection yet or not, but I’d bet the farm that’s where he met Branson.”

  Katie inhaled a deep breath. “So, how about we call out for some pizza? I have a feeling we’ll be having dinner here tonight. Should probably ask Gibbons to join us too.”

  ***

  Her hands were bound tightly around the pipe. Sweat dripped from her head, stinging her eyes as the drops continued down. Trisha had lost all track of time down here in the darkness. She didn’t know how long she’d been here. Alone, afraid, Trisha thought for sure she would die in this place.

  A small shaft of light emerged as the door opened. Trisha’s eyes widened as she waited to see who was entering. It took her a moment to adjust to the figure that was approaching, but she suspected she already knew its identity.

  “I see you haven’t eaten anything, Trisha.” The voice was that of a man’s, gravelly and deep in tone.

  She recognized it immediately. “Pretty hard to eat with my hands tied. Besides, I’m not hungry.”

  “You know, I’d have thought you’d be just a little bit more appreciative. After all, if it weren’t for me, I doubt you’d still be here. You’d be like the others, tossed alongside some secluded highway, carved up and ready to be eaten by the animals.”

  Trisha would have preferred this to be over and so the thought of her lifeless body didn’t seem so bad, considering the alternative.

  “Well, as it turns out, you’ll get a few days reprieve from the inevitable.” The man hunched over and walked further inside the room until he was no longer cloaked in shadow.

  Trisha took in his lanky frame and shoulder-length dark hair that he wore straight and parted down the middle, with a narrow face and a fading tan. Finally, his eyes came into view as he came closer. They were dark and void of all feeling, except lust.

  Yes, Trisha would have preferred death to what awaited her in this moment. All she could do was detach her mind from what was about to happen to her and distance herself from her physical being.

  She had once thought of Lewis Branson as a brilliant man. Had even at times desired to be with him when she would witness him address the masses. But all of that had changed when she said she was leaving the group, that it was time for her to move on, since she felt as though she had learned all she could.

  Really, she had grown tired of the “shared sexual experiences.” They were nothing more than meaningless encounters. The last one resulted in an unwanted pregnancy that she felt compelled to end. It was then she realized that there was more to her life than this place and these people who worshiped chaos. What did any of it mean? Nothing. Not to her. Not anymore.

  But when she began speaking of her intent to leave, reasoning with some in the group that there must be more than this, well, Lewis Branson felt as though she’d betrayed him.

  Trisha began to feel that maybe there was something to the rumors she’d heard over the past several weeks, that a new faction had emerged and Branson was taking a turn towards a darker, more extreme side to their beliefs.

  Word had gotten out of her intent. That was last week, after the death of a woman in Colorado. She wasn’t sure it was Branson, but if not him, then most certainly someone who was a part of this new idea he had been spreading. Turning the world back to chaos so that true order could once again be restored.

  How this was to be accomplished through the murder of innocent people escaped Trisha. So now, she found herself here, tossed into what could only be described as a dungeon and inside that dungeon was a smaller room. That was where he was keeping her until she came back around to his way of thinking.

  She had been down there before, in the dungeon, only in a much different capacity, as a willing participant. Now she was here not of her own free will, but at the will of Lewis and he was about to make her see the error of her ways. Again and again, he would make her see his point of view, as she once had.

  Trisha closed her eyes, a tear falling as she thought of her parents, regretting having ever come into contact with Lewis Branson.

  ***

  Marshall grabbed the last slice of pizza and held it up. “Mind if I take it?”

  “I’m stuffed. You go ahead,” Katie replied.

  The back of the station, where most of the offices were located, had grown quiet. Up front, of course, would still be busy with cops bringing in the riff raff, booking them, tossing drunks into the tank. All of the things that police officers were faced with on a daily basis.

  But things were different in detective work. Lonely. Quiet. Even Gibbons had already left, claiming he needed to see his kids to sleep. Most of them worked ungodly hours and for not really much pay. They did all right, but they were still public servants, and were paid as such.

  Marshall spotted an incoming email as he took a bite. “This is what I was waiting for. I asked Agent Jameson to send me some additional information on Shalot and Hudson; employment history and such.” He downloaded the files, his eyes darting back and forth at the screen.

  “Anything interesting?” Katie asked.

  Marshall turned his monitor so that they could both see what Jameson had turned up. “According to Shalot’s employment history, he worked at a place called Milgard Plastics in Greenley. No record of Shaun Hudson working there, though.”

  “Wait, hold on,” Katie began. “What’s this?” She pointed to a line item on the screen. “Whoa, am I reading this right? He was fired for sexual harassment?”

  “Looks like it,” Marshall replied. “This guy’s a real piece of work.”

  “What I want to know is why the hell he moved here in the first place,” Katie said. “It had to have something to do with Branson.”

&nbs
p; “Or you. How did he end up in a graduate class? Your graduate class? This is a middle class kid with no high level skills. He worked on the line at a plastics company.” Marshall continued to review the files, pulling up Shalot’s school records. “If you look at what Jameson found, he never lived in Connecticut and, by the looks of this, never attended the University of Connecticut as it states on his UCSD records. It’s been fabricated, Kate. Someone made up his credentials.”

  “Who has the ability to do that?” Katie asked, already knowing the answer. “I wonder if someone who worked in Records could create a false transcript.” She didn’t like what was coming to the surface, that it seemed Shalot had been placed deliberately in one of her classes. “Marshall, I think Edward Shalot is here because of me and I think Branson helped him to get here, indirectly, at least. The guy picks up and leaves a year ago? Right around the time we were all over the news. Then he ends up in one of my classes?”

  “Shit. There’s more to this than we know and my guess is that Scarborough and his team aren’t looking too hard into anything as it relates to Shalot right now. They’ve already got him in custody and are dealing with too many other victims. They’re going to be focusing in on Lewis Branson.” Marshall looked at the time on his phone. “I think we got enough to bring Hudson in. I’ll call Scarborough and give him a heads up.”

  “What about Lewis Branson? If we bring Shaun Hudson here, and they all know this guy, word could get back to him, and he might just take off if he sees the need. Right now, we don’t know if he’s a suspect,” Katie said.

  “Then we’ll have to make the timing work. They’re all going to Oceanside to talk with Branson in the morning. We’ll bring Shaun in at the same time.”

  ***

  The key lodged for a moment inside the lock, as it often did when the air was particularly damp as it was today, but Marshall persisted until finally the dead bolt retreated. He held the door open for Katie. She dragged herself inside the dark apartment, running her hand along the wall until she found the switch.