Touching Evil (The Leila Marx Novels Book 1)

by Amber Garr

  “I’m Detective Pearson with homicide and we’re here to see Erin Montgomery,” Garrick stated in his professional voice.

  “Umm…,” the young man said while he began to type. “Okay, I see your name listed but who is she?”

  “She’s a BPD consultant and she’s also been cleared, Mr. Ellison,” Garrick replied as he bent forward to see the man’s name badge. A few keystrokes later, Ellison shook his head.

  “I’m sorry sir, but she’s not listed. I can’t let her in.” He looked genuinely remorseful.

  Garrick took another step closer, placed both hands on top of the desk, and leaned toward the student. I’d never thought of him as the bullying type before, so I wondered where this was going. His eyes travelled over the mess on top of what I assumed were probably important medical records.

  He finally looked the attendant in the eye. “She’s been cleared, Mr. Ellison. If you don’t believe me, we could always call your boss down here to straighten this out.” He had waved his hand over the mess when referring to “this”.

  The young man sighed and sat back down. “Fine. No one else is supposed to come in tonight anyway.” He looked directly at me. “Don’t touch anything.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied, smiling to myself as we walked around him and to the glass door. Garrick began passing me pieces of plastic safety wear including shoe covers, a smock, and a face mask. It was one of those ones that covered my nose and mouth but made my face sweat all the same.

  Once we were donned in our haz-mat outfits, he opened the door and we walked inside. The room felt twenty degrees cooler than the waiting area, and the odd smell of chemicals mixed with something else unrecognizable suddenly had me appreciating the mask.

  The examination room, as I assumed it was called, contained at least ten stainless steel tables of which half of them were occupied. An ivory colored plastic bag clung to the remains underneath in a way that reminded me of vacuum-sealed packaging. Four of the bodies were obviously adult sized but the fifth barely took up a third of the table. The small shape was no bigger than a toddler, and I nearly lost my nerve. I quickly looked around for a distraction.

  Along the far wall were dozens of square lockers lined up in perfectly uniformed rows. I was briefly reminded of high school and impossible lock combinations before realizing there were even more bodies inside all of those compartments. Glancing out the windows toward the attendant, I wondered if he was ever concerned about being here late at night. I didn’t know if I could sit with my back facing this room.

  The sound of a zipper distracted me to the far corner. Garrick talked to the women standing over the newly exposed body. I hadn’t noticed anyone else in here. She was around my age but built like a gymnast. Her tiny frame accentuated by a long brown ponytail and a pair of frameless glasses. As I got closer, I saw the microphone headpiece wrapped around her ear. She spoke into it without acknowledging Garrick. She removed the black bag from around Erin’s body, detailing her first impressions. Her safety garb was much more protective than ours, but then again, she was the one who would have to cut into the bodies.

  Once I joined Garrick, she stopped talking and looked up at me with a smile. “Hi. I’m Tami.” I held out my hand to shake hers, but she smiled wider and shook her head. “Can’t do that right now, but it’s nice to meet you.”

  I felt stupid. “You too. I’m Leila Marx.” She looked back and forth between Garrick and me a couple of times before lowering her head and continuing her examination. I noticed Garrick was suddenly very focused on the body.

  “Can you tell us anything, Tami?” He was on a first name basis with this one. I felt a spark of jealousy pull at me.

  She lifted up a shriveled arm and peered underneath. “Well, aside from the fact that she’s completely desiccated, I won’t know more until the autopsy and toxicology tests.” She continued poking and prodding Erin with her gloved hands, making comments as though we weren’t there.

  “I can’t see any obvious signs of trauma,” she continued while rotating Erin’s sunken skull. “But obviously something horrible happened to her.” She bent over and put her face a few inches away from Erin’s arm. “You see these marks here?” We both leaned over the table to view her wrist. “Even though it’s faint because of the condition of the skin, it appears she was forcefully restrained.” Tami walked around to the ankles and nodded her head. “Yep. She has them down here too.”

  It appeared that this examination was going to last a while longer. I caught Garrick’s eye to tell him I needed to touch the body without Tami nearby. Comprehending our silent exchange, he walked around the table to join her.

  “Tami, could I take a look at the initial reports from the scene?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she replied. I didn’t understand why he had asked that, until she turned her back to me and moved to the laboratory counter in the corner of the room. Garrick gave me a look and followed behind her, physically blocking her view of Erin.

  I turned my face down toward the body and tried to steady my nerves for what I needed to do. Closing my eyes, I imagined that I was back in my high school biology class dissecting a gigantic earthworm. Flesh is flesh, right? This wasn’t Erin anymore. I was still trying to convince myself when Garrick coughed. Startled, I looked up to see him giving me another look telling me to hurry up.

  Biting my lips together I swallowed my nerves and touched Erin’s leathery arm.

  Seven

  I only used the tips of my fingers because I wasn’t comfortable touching the dead. Trusting that Garrick could keep Tami distracted long enough, I tried to concentrate. My nerves were so frazzled I didn’t see or hear anything for what seemed like several minutes. In reality, the silence probably only lasted mere seconds.

  I’ve only had a few instances when I didn’t get a visual reading. Sometimes it’s just voices or sounds, like when a television bulb burns out. I’m not sure why this happens but the information is collected all the same.

  Erin’s corpse didn’t give me any visions like her hair brush had. Instead, I could make out a few words being repeated over and over. It sounded like a female saying them, and judging by the strain in the voice, I thought it was an older lady. The monotony of the tone confused me as I tried to interpret. If I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed the language was Greek or maybe Latin.

  I repeated them to myself over and over until I was sure it was memorized. Breaking contact with Erin, I reached into my purse still mumbling the phrase over and over. Pulling out an old receipt and a pen, I wrote down the words, spelling phonetically the best I could. When finished, I turned away from Garrick and Tami and held out the sheet of paper in front of me.

  a posse ad esse transcende asmodeus

  I had no idea what any of those words meant, if they were even words to begin with. I never studied anything past the general biology college, and although I had several art history classes, none of them made me memorize ancient languages. The more I repeated the phrase in my head, the more I convinced myself it was Latin. And somewhere in the back of my mind, a nagging feeling told me it was important.

  Tami’s high pitched laugh interrupted my thoughts. I turned to see her smiling up at Garrick with what could only be interpreted as flirtation. He returned her look with another witty comment that had her brushing up against his side. What could possibly be so amusing?

  Before I could stop myself, I called over to him. “Garrick? Are you ready?”

  He turned with a smile plastered on his face. He acknowledged me, but when I saw him hand the folder back to Tami, I suddenly felt guilty. There’s no reason why Garrick can’t joke around with the morgue girl. I should have given him more time.

  He walked over to me with Tami glued to his hip. His eyebrows rose with a curious glance and I nodded my confirmation. I got a reading and now it was time to go. He thanked Tami, who quickly returned his smile with an overtly flirtatious giggle.

  “Anytime Garrick. And hopefully I
’ll see you at Taos Friday night?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” he replied shyly.

  “Nice to meet you Tami,” I chimed in and to her credit she never dropped her grin when she said goodbye to me as well.

  We left the basement morgue without saying a word to Mr. Ellison or to each other. It wasn’t until we were outside that Garrick finally asked me what I saw.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. When we got into his car and pulled away from the curb, I continued. “It was just words this time.” I paused, thinking about Tami. “So how do you know her?”

  Garrick seemed confused. “Her? Who, Tami?” I nodded. “We met last year at a party and have some mutual friends. I see her from time to time when I have to go to the morgue. She’s been working there for a couple of years.” He turned to look at me. “Why?”

  Should I continue or not, that was the question. I couldn’t help myself.

  “Did you happen to notice her flirting with you?” He gave me another look. “Oh, please Garrick. It couldn’t be any more obvious.” I paused, deciding how much further to go. I wanted to know if they had any type of relationship, past or current. But I decided to restrain myself. Why was I acting like this?

  “You might be right,” he said through a smile. Men and their egos. “Maybe I should go with them on Friday.”

  I must have reacted because he suddenly let out a laugh. “What’s wrong? Should I not go?”

  “She works in a morgue for a living, Garrick.”

  “So?”

  “So, that’s weird.” I shook myself and he laughed again. It was a nice laugh and I couldn’t resist joining him.

  “Tell me what you saw,” he said as we began to make our way back around the city to the northern suburbs. The downtown area was still crowded with weekend partiers and our progress remained slow for a while.

  “I couldn’t see anything. I only heard a voice saying the same few words over and over, kind of like a song or a chant. I don’t know if the visuals were absent because of Erin’s experience or if I wasn’t getting as strong of a reading off her.” Because she was already dead.

  “Do you remember the words?”

  The phrase felt permanently imprinted in my mind. “A posse ad esse transcende asmodeus.”

  “A posse what?” Garrick asked. I repeated it until he said it in time with me. “Well, I have no idea what that means.”

  “Me neither,” I replied. We sat there for a while after that, both trying to figure out what this phrase would have to do with Erin’s death.

  We were almost out of the city limits when stopped by the train lights. It seemed that Garrick thought about trying to beat the large red and white railroad crossing arms, but at the last moment he slammed on the breaks. Residing to the wait, he put the car in park and turned to face me.

  A quick jolt to the back caused my forehead to slam into the dashboard. The sound of crunching metal and splintering wood brought me quickly out of my daze. I opened my eyes to see nothing but darkness. Something smelled like chalk, and it took me a few moments to realize that I was surrounded by the airbag. My head hadn’t hit the front of the car, but was instead cushioned by the safety device.

  Hastily pushing the material away, I looked over at Garrick who mimicked my activity. A light from behind the car distracted me. It looked like headlights and they seemed to be coming straight at us. As soon as that thought formed in my mind, our car was struck from behind again. The larger second vehicle, some type of SUV, revved its engine, squealed its tires, and pushed our sedan the rest of the way through the wooden crossing arms and into the center of the train tracks. Just as quickly, the SUV backed off, reversed directions, and stopped a hundred feet behind us. Waiting.

  Our car engine sputtered and died and for a few moments, we heard nothing. The sudden silence fractured when Garrick pounded on his car door.

  “Open…up you bastard,” he rumbled while slamming his shoulder against the car interior. “Try yours, Leila,” he ordered in between grunts. It took me a few seconds before I understood the situation we were in. A train was coming, the gates had already been down. And someone had pushed us through them. I looked back at the awaiting SUV, sitting there as though nothing had happened.

  “Why did they do that?” I asked innocently.

  “I don’t know. Leila! See if your door will open. Now!”

  Garrick’s eyes widened and although he was being respectful, I felt a little annoyed he yelled at me. But at the same time, it was the command I needed to hear, so I grabbed my door handle and pulled. Nothing happened. I tried again, and again. Soon I was the one slamming my shoulder against the door, spewing insults and cursing the SUV.

  “It’s stuck,” I panted. “Why would both be stuck? The car isn’t that damaged.”

  “No, it’s not,” Garrick said.

  He crawled through the center to the backseat. I saw him try to open the two rear doors, getting the same results. Another light flashed out of the corner of my eye, and my breath caught. The train. The train had rounded the bend and was coming straight for us.

  Panic took control of my body, and I kicked the windshield, looking for a way out of the car. Apparently, it wasn’t such a bad idea, as Garrick also started smashing his feet against the glass. Aren’t windshield’s supposed to break easily?

  I could see the train light much clearer now as it continued to barrel down on us. My breathing increased and I put every ounce of strength I could into my kicks. Time slowed while we fought our way against the car. This was not how I was supposed to die. Death by train? I didn’t think so.

  I continued to kick and scream, even as I felt the vibrations from the train getting stronger. Garrick yelled something at me, but I was too preoccupied to listen. Suddenly I heard him scream my name as he pulled me down toward the center console. A sudden, piercing crash silenced my screams. Thousands of tiny glass shards fell over my back and side. I looked up to see a hole where my passenger window had once been. And standing there was a man.

  Without comment, he grabbed my arm and pulled me through the window. I didn’t even have time to register the painful cut from the broken glass, before I was sitting on the opposite side of the tracks, safely out of the way. The man returned to help Garrick crawl from the car, and the two of them stumbled away as the train noticed the obstacle in its path. The horn blasted, and the night filled with a shrill when emergency brakes were engaged in a futile attempt to stop a thousand ton machine. I covered my ears, but was paralyzed with awe as I watched the metro crash into the disabled police vehicle.

  Brilliant flares of bright orange light arched around the car before darkness consumed the sparks and flames. The train pushed our car down the track for another hundred yards before coming to a halt. Somewhere in my mind, I hoped that no one was hurt.

  In a matter of seconds, our lives would have been over. I felt dizzy when I tried to push myself to my feet. Someone spoke to me, yet I couldn’t understand them. I looked up at the noise and saw two black silhouettes staring back down at me. The street light above them cast no glow on their faces, making my heart jump.

  My attention was drawn away again by another sound. The SUV turned around and sped away from the scene. They waited to watch us die. Anger seethed through my pores and I jumped up to see if I could recognize the vehicle or get a license plate number. But it was too dark, so I took a deep breath to try and control myself.

  “Leila? Are you all right?” Garrick moved in front of me so I was forced to look at him. He had a cut on his forehead and his left eye appeared swollen. Both hands rested on my arms, but when I made eye contact, he dropped his grip.

  I felt shaky again. The adrenaline rush subsided and I realized how close we’d just come to facing death. Without thinking, I threw my arms around Garrick and gave him a tight hug. “Thank you.”

  His body went rigid, no doubt due to my surprise attack, but before he could return the embrace, I stepped away. He looked at me a moment longer before replying.
>
  “Don’t thank me. I didn’t get us out of there. We owe our lives to this man.” He gestured toward the person standing behind me. The one who managed to break into the car we couldn’t get out of. I turned to see our hero, surprised that I knew him.

  “Conner?”

  Eight

  Standing before us, with hands in his pockets looking unexpectedly humble, was Conner Hoffman. He’d changed clothes since I saw him earlier at the game, and now wore in a generic set of jeans and a black tee shirt. He met my eyes and smiled.

  Garrick walked up to my side. “You know him?” I nodded and gave Conner the same quick hug Garrick received seconds ago. Geez, near-death experiences were making me a touchy-feely kind of gal. Stepping away from Conner, I introduced him to Garrick.

  “This is Conner Hoffman. Lawyer, football fan, and all around life saver.” The men extended their hands and executed a perfect handshake. Conner was slightly taller, so Garrick had to look up into the streetlight. When he did, I could see that the gash on his forehead was pretty significant.

  “I’m Detective Garrick Pearson.” He let go of Conner’s hand. “I don’t know how you did it, but I appreciate your help back there. The car wouldn’t let us out.” He touched the cut on his head and flinched. “Do you have a phone I could borrow? I have to call this in.”

  “Of course. It’s in my car.” Conner pointed across the road from us. “I’ll be right back.” I watched him jog away, still wondering about the coincidence that of all the thousands of people in the city, Conner had been the one here at the right time.

  Garrick cleared his throat. “I’m going to have to stay and clear this mess up, but if you want to go home, I’ll see if I can take your statement later. Maybe Mr. Hoffman can give you a ride? You do know him, right?”

  “Yes. I know him.” I shook my head to try and put more coherent thoughts together. Turning to Garrick, I looked at his forehead. “You need to get stitches.”