by R Weir
When I got there Sue, Brandon’s assistant, was waiting. She didn’t have a pleasant look on her face.
“I should have known it would be you,” she said.
“Always nice to see you, Sue.” I saved my power smile, since it never worked on her.
“Brandon doesn’t pay me enough.”
“I’ll put in a good word with the boss.”
She used her keycard to get into the building. She looked nice, in shorts and a t-shirt, her skin a nice tan. Her hair was down, which I’d rarely seen, bleached from her time in the sun.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt your weekend,” I said. “I saw you had someone in your car. Girlfriend?”
“Yes. We were going to Fiddlers Green for a concert and a lovely evening together. Until I got the call.”
“You can trust me. I won’t steal any paperclips.”
I think she might have smiled. “I counted them yesterday, so you better not!”
“Was that a joke?”
“Maybe.” She turned and headed back to the entrance. “Once you walk out the front door, you won’t be able to get back in. There is a conference room on the second floor you can use. Try not to make a mess with your dinner. And please don’t have Brandon call me. I’m going to be busy kissing various body parts and being kissed right after the concert.”
I smiled at the mental image she provided. “Nothing wrong with that,” I said, as she walked out the door.
I carried the food to the second-floor conference room and then headed back down to let Doris and our guest in after she texted me they had arrived.
“Jarvis, this is Makayla,” said Doris.
She put out her hand reluctantly and weakly shook mine. Her ebony face looked sullen and makeup free, her black hair short and curly. Her height matched mine, even in flat shoes, dressed in brown slacks and peach satin blouse. She wasn’t a small woman, with an athletic build and I could see strength in her arms and legs, strength she had used to fight off her attacker.
“Thanks for driving over,” I said. “Follow me, please.”
I led the way, taking the elevator, then down the hall into the room. I offered up the food I had brought and she selected a slice of pepperoni, and some Pepsi. Doris decided on cheese and Pepsi, while I took one of each and some 7-up. We all ate for a few minutes before I broke the ice.
“Hopefully you enjoyed the pizza,” I said.
“It was quite good,” she answered, while grabbing another.
“Excellent choice,” added Doris.
“Hard to go wrong with pizza. But some are better than others, so I wanted to go top notch.”
Not wanting to look like a pig, I stuck with the two pieces for now, but knew a third would be calling my name shortly. All the food talk was designed to ease into the horrible conversation we were about to have.
“Thanks again, Makayla, for coming here today,” I stated. “I know this has been a challenging time for you. But I’m glad to hear you’re up and moving, doing well physically.”
“Thank you. I feel blessed to be sitting here today considering what has happened to the other victims.”
“Blessed and tough, I would say. It sounds like you fought him off, buying yourself enough time that he had to flee.”
“With the amount of sedative, he gave you, I would agree,” added Doris.
“How are you feeling about all of this and what happened?” I asked, starting with the easy questions.
There was a break before she answered. “Scary in one word. I’m still living what happened. I’ll be sitting there and bang it all comes to me in a flash. Sleep has been difficult.” She looked calm now, but you could sense the fear she felt about what happened.
“You will live it for a while,” explained Doris. “Maybe many years. Keep talking about it with someone. I’ve tried to be there, but there are counselors that are better suited than I am. I can give you names. But talk with anyone that wants to listen. And don’t be afraid to be afraid, if you understand what I mean.”
She nodded. “I think I understand.”
“It’s a process,” I added. “It will take time. Hopefully talking with us tonight is a positive.”
Makayla swallowed down a few more bites of pizza. I hoped it was comfort food. I knew for certain it was filling, as I finished off my second slice.
“One of the items the experts working the case are pretty certain of,” I said, “is that the attacker watches, studying his victims before striking. The thought is this happens for a few days. He is careful and picky about who he finally chooses. In that vein, do you recall seeing anyone or anything out of the ordinary in the days leading up to the attack?”
“Honestly, no,” she replied. “Truth is, I often walk out talking on my cellphone, not even paying attention to what is going on around me. If a spaceship had landed in the parking lot, I probably wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Don’t feel bad, you aren’t alone. Many of us are the same way when it comes to our phones. Walking, driving, at the dinner table. When that damn thing rings we have to answer it.”
“No more,” she stated bluntly. “I’m walking out, watching for any sign of anything right now. Checking the backseat before getting into the car. Though I’ve not walked outside alone since this happened. My friends and co-workers are always making sure I’m not by myself when out in the open.”
“Good. There is always strength in numbers. Tell in as much detail as you can handle, about the moment he struck?”
She drank her soda before clearing her throat. I could see the fear, but there was determination in her eyes and on her face.
“I had opened the car door and climbed behind the wheel. I sat my purse on the seat next to me and was about to close the door, when I felt movement, as if someone had bumped the car. That is when I saw in the rearview mirror a glimpse of a face and then felt the jab of the needle in my neck. I tried to yell, from the pain and fear, but couldn’t get much sound to come out. I reached back to grab at the hand on me and push it away, I remember scratching at his skin.”
She stopped for minute, taking a couple of deep breaths, looking at Doris and then back at me.
“I started to feel nauseous, and woozy, even sick from whatever he had stuck in me. I opened the door and tried to jump out, but my body wouldn’t let me, so I rolled out and hit the pavement, face first, which hurt, as you can see from some of the scrapes I have.”
She pointed to her face and showed me her arms. The scrapes and bruising apparent and starting to heal.
“I did my best to stand but couldn’t, so I tried to crawl instead. My mind kept saying scream and yell, but I couldn’t as the drug he’d given me had made me weaker. I soon felt his weight on top trying to move me. I’m not a small woman, so I’m sure he was having a tough time picking me up. I then heard some noises and could no longer feel him on me. That is when I heard someone say, ‘Don’t move, I’m calling for help,’ and then I was out until I woke up in the hospital.”
“Did you see enough of his face to describe him?” I asked.
“No. All I remember were the eyes. They were a hazel color and scary looking.”
“You say that you grabbed and even clawed at his hands. How did they feel? Large, medium or small?”
“I don’t know. I’m mostly certain he was wearing gloves. I vaguely remember scratching him. They did find some DNA they said under my nail, but it was not much.”
“From my understanding, not enough for a verifiable sample,” added Doris.
This was disappointing to hear. DNA could have provided a solid break in the case.
“Could you sense how large he was? You mentioned he climbed on top of you.” I was hoping for something concrete to work off.
“Not really. Like I said he was having a tough time moving me. He did feel close to my size and heavy, but at that point everything felt heavy, I assume it was from the way the drug was affecting me.”
Large narrows down the suspect pool, to tens o
f thousands. Still it was something.
“Were there any threats to you beforehand? Any calls to you, or someone calling and hanging up?”
“Nothing I can recall.” She shook her head, disappointed she wasn’t providing more detail.
“Doris, did the people who found Makayla see the man?” I asked.
“Only a glimpse,” replied Doris. “Maybe average or larger height and weight, but nothing else. It was getting dark. They might not have noticed her at all, if it weren’t for them seeing the man quickly moving away and finding her on the ground.”
“No other DNA was found?”
“From what I know, no. It’s as if he doesn’t have hair, or skin to leave behind. The little bit they found on her was all they had.” Doris sounded disappointed, too.
“He has been trained well,” I said. “Makayla, have you ever heard of the name, Simon Lions?”
She stopped to think for minute.
“Not a Simon. But the last name Lions sounds familiar. Maybe a student I had in the past. Though nothing recent.”
“Where else have you taught?”
She gave me a list, which I wrote down. It had been a few schools through the years. Mostly on the west side of the city.
“How about Christina Bowles?”
“Windsor Bowles’ wife? I know her or at least have heard of her. I did campaign work for Windsor when he last ran for State Senator.”
My heart raced. So there WAS a possible connection there. Had he slipped up in a much bigger way than we thought? Had he deviated from his habit of picking random victims and targeted someone known to the family? Or was it just a coincidence?
“She used to go by Christina Lions-Bowles. She dropped the name because of the controversy with her brother, Simon. Could that be where you heard it?”
She looked thoughtful. “Now that you mention it, yes. What was the controversy?”
“He was thought to be the original Front Range Butcher from twenty-two years ago.”
Makayla stared at me, shocked. “Oh my!”
Doris looked at me. “Is this something,” she asked.
I wasn’t sure. But I was going to find out.
Chapter 44
There was much to process, so since it was Sunday, I decided to take a day and rest my brain. April was still working, so I took a me day and vegetated in front of the TV, enjoying football, the red blooded American male sport. It would start at 10 a.m. and go until almost 10 p.m. so I could kill the day, munching on leftover pizza and a few beers. I needed to track down things, but couldn’t get access until Monday, when schools were back in session. I enjoyed the break, essential for my sanity, but was back at it the next day.
I started making calls to each school, trying to find if there were any other Lions Makayla had taught through the years. Some of the schools were most helpful, while a couple of others weren’t. I had to travel there and look through their old year books. I didn’t find any Lions at any of them. Was Makayla working for Bowles, and the attempt on her life a coincidence? Or was it done for a reason? Were there any ties to any of the other victims? Could Simon Lions be working to exact revenge on his sister and husband for the shunning of him? Lots of questions, but no concrete answers.
I decided to contact Agent Alegre to let her know what I found. If these clues were something, she could more easily chase down any possible ties to the other three victims. When I called I got her voicemail and left a message. It was about forty minutes before she called me back.
“Hopefully you aren’t wasting my time and have something of value to give me?” she said with a snarl.
“Happy to talk to you, too, Catalina. How are you doing?”
There was a pause, as I imagined her cussing under her breath at me.
“Jarvis, I’ve no time for pleasantries. Do you have something for me or not?”
“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours,” I said.
This time the swearing could be heard and multi-syllable in length. “How old are you?”
I could have been snarky and answered “Twelve,” but I resisted, deciding to stop screwing around and give her what I’d called about.
“There may be a connection between the last victim, Makayla, and Simon Lions.” I made no mention that I had talked with Makayla. No reason to get Doris in hot water.
“I’m listening.”
“She did campaign work for State Senator Windsor Bowles, whose wife is Christina Bowles, the sister of Simon.”
“Could be a simple coincidence.” She didn’t sound convinced.
“Or it could be a clue. I’m thinking you should check to see if any of the other recent victims have ties to Windsor or his wife.”
“You think the brother is doing some type of payback to his sister.” Now her tone seemed more receptive.
“Or she is involved and not all the victims are randomly selected. It’s worth checking.”
I could hear her typing something. “What else?” she said.
“Enough for now. Quid pro quo.”
There was total silence.
“I can hear the gears spinning,” I said. “Certainly, you have something to give me.” Still nothing. I was regretting sharing with her. I gave her a little more that might loosen her tongue. “Three men, two of which work for Liquid Investors, paid me a visit in an attempt to forcefully persuade me to stop bothering Simon Lions.”
Finally, she caved.
“Liquid Investors has strong ties to Bowles. They are planning to bankroll him into the US Congress. They want a more conservative representative for that district which has been liberal for many terms now.”
“Not really a shocking surprise. All corporations will back certain politicians. It is the way the political game is played in our country.”
“Have you heard of Tyrell Powers?”
“Yes. I know of his ties to Liquid Investors. I also know his company is coming in trying to take over the construction business here in Denver.”
I left out my connection to Brandon Sparks, his company Sparks Construction a rival to Power’s USA Inc.
“All of these alliances mean something,” said Catalina. “There are also ties to certain foreign countries. Most we wouldn’t consider to be allies.”
“China and Russia?” I asked.
“Yes. Both had run-ins with you last year.”
I didn’t mention the visit I had recently from those in the Chinese government either. No reason I should share everything with her.
“What exactly is going on?” I wondered.
“We aren’t quite sure. You’ve heard of the Russians trying to influence elections here in the US. There may be involvement at the state level as well. Getting those friendly with their politics in place to do their bidding. China may be doing the same, though they are a little late joining the game.”
“Is Powers in bed with either country?”
“If he is, he hides it well. He is a coy businessman. He will work deals in the background, milk them for what it’s worth, and then turn on them when it suits him. He is not a trustworthy partner. Power and greed drives him. His last name is his very essence.” Agent Alegre sounded like she’d been studying him, but I filed the assessment away.
“What about his enforcer, Wolfe? Do you have any knowledge that he is in town?”
“You’ve heard of him. I’m impressed. Unfortunately, we don’t know of his whereabouts. Believe it or not we can’t track every bad guy in this country. Our resources are not unlimited, and the list of names of evil people is long. Why do you ask?”
“We met once in passing. I could sense he would be a lethal foe. Always good to know he is around so I can watch my back.”
“He is a stone-cold killer. He mostly farms out work. But for those too good for his contractors, he will take them on, or so I’ve heard. We’ve never had an ounce of evidence against him. He is skilled at his craft. If he thinks you’re that good, he will deal with you himself.” Catalina sounded concerned.
“I don’t know if he sent the men after me from Liquid Investors, but they certainly got the drop on me. I was able to even the score. Though I expect they will be coming at me again after my visits last week. I plan to pay another visit to Simon again today. Though I’m sure you know this, since I’m almost certain you have someone on the inside.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
“And after this bonding moment, I thought you’d open up more to me.”
“Hardly. But I’ll give you some advice. If you have capable help, enlist it. As I’m certain they will be coming at you too.”
“If I die, I’m sure you’ll use the full resources of the FBI to avenge me.” I said with a laugh.
“You’re so full of shit,” she said, before hanging up the phone.
Who was I to argue?
Chapter 45
When I showed up at EverCare, Simon was waiting for me. Though I wasn’t sure if he knew I was coming or if he was just out of his room enjoying the sun, despite dark-gray clouds to the south threatening with the smell of rain.
He was sitting alone, wearing a plain blue shirt, his blanket draped over his legs. The same plastic tubing looped over his shoulders, feeding oxygen through his nose. He’d had his hair cut shorter than the last time I was here. His eyes saw me and slowly he came to life as I approached. I wonder what his pulse rate and blood pressure spiked to each time I arrived.
“You persist,” he said, with a wry smile. “It would seem nothing can persuade you from coming to visit me.”
“Have you been trying to get me to stop hounding you?” I asked, raising my eyebrow. “Almost sounds like a confession.”
“Silly me, for admitting anything. Of course, I’ve had nothing to do with your beating.” He sounded pleased at what happened. “I see you’re healing well. Can hardly see the bruising on your eye anymore.”
As usual he teased about what he knew without fully admitting it, and he knew plenty about the attack. I planned to show him I couldn’t be easily persuaded.
“Nice contradictory sentence. You should be in politics.”
“More fun being in the background. A puppet master so to speak.” More joy in his voice.