“All right . . . I need Fairmont and Hayward to handle the stairs. One on each set and head up. Don’t argue with me—you’re both the youngest and most fit here. Okay? Take them from the ground up and check for anyone suspicious. Probably nothing to see, but I want to cover all bases.”
Fairmont went up the staircase next to the elevators while Hayward started across the lobby for the other staircase. The elevator doors opened to unload a group of people including a doctor, two nurses, and a man in a wheelchair. Parks and everyone else made it onto the elevator and worked their way up to the sixth floor. The doors chimed open and Parks walked off and looked around for the closest reception desk or person in charge. He spotted two officers standing outside a door down the hallway.
“You guys guarding the Cosway brothers?” Parks asked the two officers. There was a foot-and-a-half difference in height between the two men and about a decade and a half in age. The younger, shorter one had a nametag that read Hunter, while his taller, older partner’s read Conrad.
“More like watching than guarding.” Officer Conrad shrugged. “Who’re you?”
“Detective Parks. This is Moore and Wilkes,” Parks said, flashing his badge. “We’re taking over from here. They’re in our custody for now. But don’t go anywhere. We may need you guys.”
Jackie walked into the room containing the two criminals with Parks at her heels.
“Doctor Lynch?” Jackie asked the aging man reading off a clipboard, the two Cosway brothers sitting before him, each one handcuffed to a chair.
The two men in their early twenties looked up at Parks and Jackie when they entered the room, each brother showing only marginal interest in them, each paying attention to a different person. Wesley Cosway, the older of the two brothers, was the one most watching the trial felt was the leader. He had a more natural, outgoing charm about him, with his long, darkened hair and piercing brown eyes. He had an engaging Spanish flair about himself and a rather soothing voice. His younger, more introverted brother, Evan, usually shied away from the cameras during the trial, appearing more meek and mild-mannered, especially compared to his brother, who was known for his short temper. Evan had been born with lighter, blond-colored hair and fairer looks, the yang to Wesley’s yin. Evan had often been considered the “brains,” while his brother had the “brawn.” This might have mattered at one time to the brothers, but they had since grown up and moved on past such childish labels, each choosing his own path in life, even if both of those paths had kept the two brothers at home during their college years. Though with their father covering their bills while they were at home, no one was all that surprised by their decision. A decision that had apparently led down the path to murder.
Everyone in Los Angeles, and across the United States, had heard of the two young men who had murdered their rich Bel Air parents in hopes of gaining access to their inheritances just a little quicker than was intended. Both had shouted their innocence, claiming a mysterious pair of persons had been in the house the night their parents had been sliced open with the kitchen butcher knife, but no one believed the story. The trial had been a long and engaging one, with live broadcasts across the country every day for the last two months, making it the most watched trial since OJ Simpson’s. Their lawyer attempted to show their movie producer father’s love-less, and at times, abusive relationship toward them, or how their mother spent most of her days in a pill-and-vodka-induced coma. The DA felt that this trial would produce one of the quickest verdicts in his entire career.
If the brothers lived to hear a verdict.
“Yes?” Dr. Lynch replied, looking at Jackie through his thin, rimless reading glasses. He was in his early sixties, with a round body and an equally round, bald head, save for a snow-white goatee.
“I’m Detective Dave Parks, LAPD, and this is Doctor Jacqueline Isley,” Parks said by way of introductions.
“What’s this about?”
“We believe that a threat has been made on their lives,” Parks said nodding toward the Cosways, “and we’re here to check it out.”
“What kind of a threat?” the doctor asked, looking concerned. Both young men also perked up at this information and looked to one another. Parks noticed Evan Cosway scratching at the palms of his hands, which were swollen, red, and peeling.
“What the fuck you mean, a threat?” Wesley Cosway barked.
“Doctor,” Jackie said, interjecting herself into the conversation. “I’m a forensic toxicologist.” She paused a moment and let the information sink in. He looked at the two young men, then back at Jackie, the blood draining from his face. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to help, if not take over. But if you could tell me what you’ve done so far, I’ll see what I think should come next.”
“Yo! What kind of a threat? Are we in danger?” Wesley Cosway asked again.
“Sit down,” Parks barked in a tone that got everyone’s attention. Wesley even held back any further comments, swaying from foot to foot, deciding what to do or say next.
Jackie nodded to Parks that she had control of the situation for now and that she’d let him know what she came up with as soon as she had something.
Parks glared down at the two young men handcuffed to their chairs. Wesley stayed puffed up, trying to prove he was still the big man in the room, while Evan scratched at his throat. Parks left the room without another word.
“So what’s up?” Wilkes asked when Parks was back in the hallway.
“Not sure yet. Isley’s going over the medical reports with the doctor to see what’s wrong with them.”
“They look like they’ve been affected with something already?”
“For sure. They have rashes, just like we were told.”
“Shit.” Wilkes spat. “So we’re too late?”
“No idea,” Parks admitted. “Could be something that was already done to them, or something that’s still waiting for a second poison to be added to complete the deal. Not sure. But they’re still alive, so we’re standing guard until we know something definite.”
Jackie walked away from Dr. Lynch over to the group. “So they ran some preliminary blood tests on the guys, and it’s been determined they’ve been poisoned already.”
“They going to die?” Wilkes asked.
“Not from what they’ve been given,” Jackie explained, “though they are in danger.”
“What were they given?” Parks asked.
“It’s an exotic cocktail like I’ve never seen,” Jackie said. “Doctor Lynch either. Not sure how it got into their systems, but it’s there just the same. It appears to be a mixture of brown recluse venom—”
“You mean the spider?” Wilkes asked.
“Yes.”
“So it’s possible they weren’t poisoned and they were just bitten by some spider?”
“No,” Jackie retorted. “They’ve been poisoned. The levels of toxin are too high for a spider bite. But it’s not just spider venom in their bloodstream.”
“What else?” Parks asked.
“Warfarin and acrylamide. Now we’ve determined the acrylamide is why their hands and feet are peeling like they are. We’re not sure how they were given it, because it can be absorbed through the skin, inhaled, or swallowed. But we’re thinking ingestion because that’s usually the reason for the redness and skin peeling. But we don’t think it’s too high a level of the toxin because they haven’t been experiencing any hallucinations or disorientation or seizures. At least from what’s been brought to our attention.”
“How long?” Parks asked.
“What?”
“How long ago were they given this acryl stuff?”
“Few days. They’re being given vitamin B6 to counteract the effects.”
“Okay,” Parks said, thinking this through. “And what’s the reasoning behind the spider venom? Your opinion.”
“Other than to kill them?” Jackie shrugged. “Painful. Very. But they weren’t given a high enough dose to be fully effective since it w
as discovered in time. It’s like he just wanted to torture them.”
“And what about the third poison?”
“Coumadin. Or warfarin,” Jackie reminded him.
“Yeah, that. What’s that do?”
“Basically, it’s a blood thinner.”
“Blood thinner?”
Jackie nodded and stayed quiet while Parks rolled over the facts.
“Toxic?”
“Can be, but not necessarily deadly. It’s not but a five or six on the toxicity scale. It’s painful and bad for the body. You can bleed to death, but that’s not dying by poison. Per se.”
“This is complicated,” Parks said, looking to the rest of the team. “He’s doing this one in stages.”
“What do you mean?” Wilkes asked.
“The spider venom and the amly—”
“Acrylamide,” Jackie finished.
“Yes, the acrylamide and the spider venom aren’t put in them to kill them. It’s like Milo said, he’s torturing them. But it also serves a second function.”
“Which is?”
“To get them to the hospital,” Parks said, looking around. “But why? I don’t get it. They’re guarded twenty-four seven. Even here. So they’re not more accessible. But if there was no way for him to get to them before, then how did he poison them enough to get them here? And if he could do that then, why not just poison them enough to kill them while he had the chance?”
“I’ve told you before. It’s poison. And as precise as it is, it’s not an exact science. Things go wrong. Things you can’t count on. Not everything’s controllable. These poisons are attacking people and the human body is as different person to person as fingerprints. Everyone reacts differently and for different reasons.”
“You’re saying he might have messed up?”
“I’m saying, I don’t know. It’s complicated and complex. Why? You’d have to ask our killer. I’m not sure what he intended.”
“Is this the only place where they would be brought to?”
“Considering the toxins have them peeing blood . . . yeah, this is the closest place they would have been brought to, no matter what,” Jackie said, thinking about it. “Closest place to where they were held.”
“It’s a trap. Even if it wasn’t the plan, it is now. He’s adapting. I think this guy’s going to strike. Today. We need to relocate them.”
“Not tomorrow?” Wilkes asked. “I thought tomorrow was the date of his . . . thing he follows or—”
“No,” Parks said. “This is one of those out-of-his-hands things. He had probably hoped to hold off until tomorrow but risked the chance it wouldn’t happen. He’s messing with poisons, here and he’s not God. He makes mistakes. But I think there’s a good chance he knows what’s going on with the people he’s trying to kill. He has an eye on them somehow. I think he already knows they’re here. We need to be alert. Wilkes, call Fairmont and Hayward and see where they are. Everyone buddy up. I want everyone to stay in radio contact with each other at all times. Five minute call-ins. Wilkes, you find Hayward and check this floor, room by room. I’ll get Fairmont and start on the floor above. We’re checking for anyone suspicious or anything out of place. Everyone else stays on this floor and stands guard over the Cosways. We don’t know who we’re dealing with here and what he has planned. Go.”
Wilkes took off and headed for the staircase by the elevator as he pulled out his walkie-talkie and tried to reach Fairmont on it.
“Detective Fairmont, what’s your ten-twenty?” Wilkes said into the walkie-talkie.
“Working my way up the fifth-floor staircase,” Fairmont replied. “Almost to you.”
“Okay. Once you get up here check in with Parks. Something’s up.”
“Will do,” said Fairmont.
Wilkes left the stairwell and started across the floor toward the opposite end where the door to the other staircase was.
“Detective Hayward, what’s your ten-twenty?” Wilkes said into his walkie-talkie.
Wilkes opened the door and stepped into the stairwell and found it abandoned.
“Detective Hayward, what’s your ten-twenty?” Wilkes stood there getting more impatient by the second. “Detective Hayward, do you copy?”
As Wilkes clicked off, he heard feedback from another walkie-talkie a few flights below.
“Hayward?” Wilkes called down into the stairwell, his voice echoing throughout the metal surroundings. The walls, steps, even the window treatments in the stairwell were all painted white, giving a sanitarium feel to the whole place. “Hayward?”
Wilkes retrieved his gun and started taking the steps down. He’d made it halfway between the sixth and fifth floors when he turned the corner and saw a body lying on the stairs, facedown, with a slash of blood along the wall leading to his head, beneath which a puddle had formed on the lower steps.
“Hayward?” Wilkes said.
Wilkes was about to leave the landing for the stairs when he heard a noise from behind him. As he turned, a lead pipe slammed into his head and knocked him down the flight of stairs to the floor below. He moaned for a second before passing out in the stairwell.
30
“So what’s he planning next?” Parks asked Jackie. “What poison? How? Where? The warfarin is what made them pee blood?”
“Mixed with the spider venom? Yes,” Jackie said. “But it’s mostly a blood thinner. I think that’s the key. He plans to bleed them out somehow.”
“Are there poisons that can cut through the skin?”
“Yes,” Jackie said, nodding. “There are acids and whatnot that can eat through the skin, but those take time. They’re messy and unstable. I’m not sure what he’s planning. But if they’re cut, they will bleed. Badly.”
“I have some more tests I need to check on,” Dr. Lynch interrupted. “Do you want me to inform you of the results?”
“Can I go with you?” Jackie asked before turning to Parks. “I’ll call you on your cell and let you know if there’s anything immediate that needs to be relayed.”
“Sounds good,” Parks said. “Okay, Ramirez. I want you to stay with the brothers.” Ramirez nodded. “You two,” Parks said pointing to Officers Conrad and Hunter. “You’re going to stay with me. We’re going to check this place out floor by floor.”
“I hate to say it, sir, but we’ve been instructed that at least one of us has to stay within eyesight of the two prisoners at all times,” Officer Conrad said. “And no one’s called us to tell us otherwise.”
Fairmont made it back onto the floor, catching Parks’s line of vision. “Oh, good, Fairmont. You’re joining me.” Parks turned back to the two officers. “One of you stay here then. You two decide who.”
“What about me?” Moore asked.
“You’re going to stay here and keep guard. Go through the paperwork at the front desk over there. All admissions. All patients. See if anything sticks out as odd or wrong. But give Hardwick a call first and give her an update on what’s going on here.”
“Will do.” Moore nodded.
“Dave,” Fairmont began when Moore gave him a look. “Detective Parks. Look, doesn’t this seem a bit . . . wasteful? I mean, how do we even know this guy is going to attack today?”
As if on cue, the fire alarm in the building went off, lights flashing as sirens began to wail throughout every room on the floor. The tension raised as everyone on the floor began to panic and move about quickly as if fleeing the Titanic.
“When was the last time you had a coincidence that was just that?” Parks asked.
“Got it,” Fairmont agreed, retrieving his gun.
“Let’s go. Coming with me is . . . ?”
“Conrad,” answered the older officer.
“All right,” Parks said looking to Fairmont and Conrad. “You two, let’s go. Starting with the floor above us.”
Parks led the way to the staircase and up to the seventh floor.
* * *
“Think we should leave the door open like tha
t?” yelled Officer Hunter.
Ramirez mentally rolled his eyes at the kid almost half his age.
“What’s it matter?” Ramirez yelled back over the siren.
“Isn’t someone trying to kill these two?” Hunter asked.
Evan and Wesley were still handcuffed to their chairs, looks of concern growing on their faces.
“Yeah, but he’s not going to shoot them,” Ramirez replied. “He wants to poison them. It’s all right. We have a guard outside as well. No one’s getting into this room.”
“I gotta go,” Moore said, sticking her head through the door.
“What’s up?” Ramirez asked.
“There’s a fight breaking out because everyone’s panicking. Nurses need help. I’ll be right back.”
Ramirez looked past her and waved her on. “Go.”
Hunter’s breathing deepened and his eyes bulged to the point that the fear in the air was becoming infectious.
“Fine,” Ramirez said, nodding toward the door. “Go ahead, if it makes you feel better.”
“Just until she gets back,” Hunter said, closing the door.
The thick steel door latched shut, and Hunter stared out through the wired-glass window in the center of the door then turned and went back to his post in the other corner, keeping an eye on the two brothers. Evan continued scratching the top of his scalp as if digging for something he could not locate.
“Man, this is fucked up,” Wesley said. “We can’t die in here. You can’t keep us in here if we’re going to die. That’s, like, unconstitutional or something. We need to get out of here. Like, now.”
“Shut up,” Ramirez yelled back. “You’ll be fine if you just shut up and don’t do anything stupid.”
“Yeah, whateve—” Wesley stopped talking and eyed the air around him, sniffing at it, as if he suddenly noticed something out of place. “Does anyone smell that?”
“Shut up,” Ramirez said again.
“No, seriously, man,” Wesley continued.
“Shut! Up!”
“Don’t you smell that? That can’t just be me.”
“I don’t smell nothing. Now shut the fu—”
The Poisonous Ten Page 25