by TL Schaefer
“Monica, we can’t blaze up to Colorado, flash our badges and start hammering away based on Sara. It would endanger her, and we’ve got nothing probable but her word.” He cast a glance at me in apology.
I shook my head, rebuffing him. He was right.
“So get him to say CASI next time he calls. That’d be enough for us to at least get a legit appointment.”
She was right. Bitch. But I couldn’t let my newfound antipathy toward her derail us. “We also need to get background information on the Meece Foundation. We think they’re the backers of CASI. It obviously needs to be done quietly.”
Foudy gave me a measured stare. “All right. I’ll ask one of my tech guys to make some inquiries...quietly, of course.”
She left a few minutes later, to my everlasting relief. How could someone be that cold about children? Then again, maybe she was a perfect fit for the crowd at CASI. They hadn’t given a shit either.
As if on cue, my cell rang, and a tendril of fear streaked up my spine. I glanced at my watch... Ten o’clock. How had so much time gone by? It could be Davis, but it wouldn’t be. It was our asshole.
When I looked at the readout, “number unavailable” confirmed my intuition. He was back for the third time in two days.
I took a deep breath and refused to glance at Brian as I pulled the phone to my ear. “Covington.”
“Sara.” It was him this time, using a voice distorter, as I’d envisioned he would when he finally made contact. “It’s been a long, long time. You’ve turned into a beautiful woman.”
“I obviously know you. Why don’t you tell me who you are and what you’re going to do with Amy?” I kept my voice businesslike, even while I was shaking inside. He’d known me as Christie, but his use of my current name cranked my terror a notch higher. He knew the police were listening and didn’t want to clue them into the fact I had secrets of my own. He was protecting me, even as he snared me tighter in his web. I racked my brain, trying to place the voice, even through the distortion. Maybe something he said, an inflection he used would be the key.
“We go back a long way. You don’t need to find me, you know. I’m simply putting things right, taking the players off the board. As for Amy, I haven’t decided if she’s of import.”
“If I don’t need to find you, why are we talking right now?” There was more going on here, and I wished I could see him, just for a moment. As I waited for his reply, I cast my mind back to the two crime scenes I’d actually seen his aura at. And got nothing more, just that sickly purple hue.
“Because you of all people understand what I’m doing here. I want you to understand it. Did you figure out the board yet?”
I glanced at Brian out of the corner of my eye. He’d picked up the headset the techies had left as soon as he heard the tension in my voice. He nodded but held up a finger of caution.
Go forward, but carefully.
I jerked my head in response.
“Yeah, it’s a chessboard.”
“Excellent.” Even through the distortion I could hear his satisfaction.
Roney made a spinning motion with his hand. Keep him on the line.
So I asked one of the things that had been bothering me since last night. “Why Hiram Johnson? The cops haven’t made a connection yet between any of your other victims, but Hiram seems out there, even for you.”
“Ah, that one was for you, Sara. I saw how he treated you, how he despised everyone beneath him.” I jolted. Either he’d seen me with Hiram or he worked at HQ and knew both of us. But it was impossible because I would have sensed, intuited if someone from CASI was there. Wouldn’t I?
Regardless of my shock, I barreled on. “So you whacked him? I may suck at interpersonal relations, but I think I could’ve figured out a better solution.” Yeah, I was being a smart-ass, probably riding a line I shouldn’t, but if this yahoo knew me, he’d know I wasn’t being me if I laid it on simpering and sweet. His next words confirmed it.
“You haven’t changed a bit, well, except for your hair color and the passage of a decade or so. Those threw me at first.”
“Sorry to have made it difficult for you. So why are we having this conversation?”
“Because it’s time. I’m purging all who stand in my path to making things right at CASI. I’ll be moving from Dallas as soon as I decide what to do with Amy. You won’t hear of me again for a few weeks after that, if ever.”
Roney drew in a big sucking breath and yanked his cell out, dialing furiously. He’d heard what he was supposed to, but I’d heard so much more. The asshole had given us CASI on a silver platter, almost as if he’d expected it. As if he’d anticipated it.
“They’ll be coming for you soon, you know,” he said, his voice eerily compassionate, even through the distortion. “They haven’t figured everything out yet, but they will.”
“Let Amy go. If you’ve let her live this long, she’s obviously not part of your eradication plan,” I pleaded, knowing he was going to hang up, and that’d be it. We’d only hear about him on the news...when he made another string of kills. And probably only if he used the same MO. I was getting semi-schitzo vibes here, so who the hell knew what his next step would be?
“You’ll be the first to know if I do. Have a good life, Sara.” He hesitated, as if considering his next words. “I’ve missed you.” And with that, the connection was broken.
In a daze, I turned to Roney, who was frantically talking into his cell as he scanned the equipment left for tracing the call. He shook his head and slammed his hand down on the desk. “Fuck! We didn’t get him.”
I heard my classmate’s last words, and knew exactly who he was. It broke my heart, even as I began to shake and the rush of voices from my past swooped in, deafening me, overwhelming me.
“You don’t need to,” I said woodenly. “I know who he is.”
Chapter Nine
Before
I spent my fifteenth birthday behind the one-way glass of a Denver police substation, watching an interview with a nicely dressed yuppie who was trying his hardest to explain how he’d never touched their babysitter, and certainly never raped her. His aura pulsed orange with satisfaction. No repentance for this scumbag. I hoped he found a really, really big boyfriend in lockup. He was pretty enough.
Over the past year or so, I’d been trained to read people, even through glass. The hardest part was getting over being around people who were carrying. Guns in general gave me the heebie jeebies. Just goes to show that you can compartmentalize anything if guns were my biggest worry. You’d think it’d be more along the lines of being a weapon for CASI, or the fact my life had stopped being my own the day my mother dropped me off. Or even the day Wes and I made the decision to play along rather than be tortured.
I turned to Dr. Green, who stood beside me in the viewing room. “He’s lying, but you don’t need me here to tell you that.”
“It’s practice, Christie. You know it as well as I do. We’ve got a greater mission to fulfill. Surely you realize that by now?” His tone was as condescending as ever, and in that second, I realized that deep down, he hated us, just a little, for being more than he was. It was a hypothesis I’d happily test out on the rest of the head shrinkers when we got back to CASI. Although, come to think of it, I’d never sensed one bit of power from any of them. Only from the other kids like me.
“Yeah, sure, Doc.” At this point, I was all about placating them. One of these days I’d find the opportunity, and I’d be gone so fast their heads would spin. But until then...
I was never drugged anymore. I think Green considered it counterproductive, even though I’m sure my caustic side showed through more than once. Just that morning, we’d had yet another “talk”.
“You still don’t understand what we’re trying to do here, do you, Christie?”
It was his patronizing tone that made me snap. That and the fact I hadn’t seen Wes for a few days. Where in the heck was he?
“Huh. If it weren’t for isolati
on and the drugs, I might think you were trying to hone our talents.”
Green held his composure, barely. I smiled, knowing that even on my worst day, I could get to him.
“Think of the benefit your talent could have to the police, to statesmen.”
“To the military,” I said, completing what he hadn’t said. Even though I hadn’t seen any federal types around over the past year, their presence was the next logical step. I knew that right after they “talked” to Wes and me, that prick Dave would be their next stop.
Green nodded, but I could tell the admission was pained. And as much as I wanted to ask about Wes, I couldn’t show him that weakness. It would be used against me. To them this was one big chess game, the CASI kids the ultimate pawns.
“All I ask is that you consider what you can do for your fellow man. Think about it, Christie.”
Now—Monday, 10:00 a.m.
“His name is Wes Burke. I doubt he’s still going by it, and I’m shocked he’s still alive. The night I bailed I saw them taking a body out and was told it was his.” I didn’t add that the circumstances leading to me seeing that body were so horrific I couldn’t even think of them without beginning to shut down. Brian and Foudy knew they’d tried to kill me... There was no reason for them to know how. It wasn’t lying, really, but rather excluding something I couldn’t handle remembering. Ever.
“I ran right after that, couldn’t bear being there by myself. He was like me, one of the best and brightest. They used us in tandem sometimes. I could tell what people ‘were’ and Wes could anticipate what they were going to do. He’s a cop, or at least has access to a squad room. Specifically, our division.” I looked pointedly at Brian, ignoring Foudy, who’d shown up like her tail was on fire about a minute after I hung up the phone. I needed Roney to believe me, more than anything. And while I was showing a good face for both of them, inside I was a mess.
Jesus. Wes was still alive. Wes was the maniac killing people. Even after all these years, I still considered Wes to have been my best, closest friend. The concept that he was murdering people in cold blood quite simply floored me. But I was right. I felt it deep in my gut. His last words, telling me he’d missed me, and the tone of his voice, almost melancholy, revealed all I needed to know.
“Huh,” was Foudy’s only reply to my bombshell, while Brian looked a good deal more intrigued. I got the feeling Monica was humoring me for his sake. I hoped their friendship extended far enough to keep my ass out of jail. At this point it was the only thing I had going for me since it would be quite easy for someone to jump to the supposition I was helping Wes out. Hell, even I might believe it, if it wasn’t my life we were talking about. By killing Hiram, Wes had tied us together in a neat little bow. But why? If I were to believe his words of a few moments ago, he still cared for me. None of it made sense. Especially the fact he knew so much about the CASI of today. If he searched the Net, he’d have seen exactly what I had, which was squat, so he had to be on the inside, somehow.
“He dropped CASI like he knew exactly what he was doing.” Brian conceded, before reaching down to pull Xena off his shoes.
“He did. Just like he knew how much Hiram hated me.” I gulped. This was where it got hard. Where I started formulating ideas that could get us all in deep trouble...or worse. What if I was wrong? “I think he was working for CASI. Was,” I said when Brian’s head lifted. “I always thought they targeted kids like me, but never knew how. Dr. Green never told me, no matter how often I asked. Privileged information, he said. Listen to the tape again. Everything on it confirms it’s him, at least in my mind, and I knew him best. Wes has obviously snapped, and is killing these people for his own reasons. And he’s got access. He couldn’t have anticipated Hiram’s antipathy. He had to be there to see it.” Even as I said it, I had to wonder how I’d missed him, how he could have possibly changed so much that his presence didn’t hit me like a two-by-four to the skull.
“Bull,” Foudy said in a steady voice. “I’ll buy some of this to a certain extent, specifically your powers, and only because I’ve witnessed it, but a shadowy ‘school’ that trains little kids to use special powers? A serial who’s a cop? Nope. I’m done. This guy is a crackpot, found out about you somehow and is centering his kills on you. Yeah, he’s deluded as hell, but he’s your run-of-the-mill psychopath. Nothing more, nothing less.”
With that statement, I realized we’d lost her. Which was fine with me, as long as she kept her mouth shut about my past. Brian and I would save Amy’s life on our own if we had to. When this was all over and we’d nailed my best friend, would he still find me so fascinating? Doubtful. Then I’d be alone again. Even the thought of it sent a shard of pain through me. I’d allowed him to get too close, too fast. And I’d pay the price for it.
But it was all good because flying solo was what I’d wanted, right? Spinning hearts and flowers around Brian was a fool’s game. He wanted sex, and on that I’d probably oblige because I longed to feel his touch more intimately, but girls like me don’t land guys like Roney. There were too many differences to bridge, and there was no way I was gonna open myself up enough to get my heart stomped on.
“I’m all about heading to Colorado to snoop around a bit,” Monica continued, “but unless either of you can show me concrete proof, I’m done with this supposition crap.”
Brian looked at me and raised his eyebrows in a “what can you do” expression.
Any argument we might have made was cut short by a tentative knock on the door. What the hell? Since when had my place become Grand Central Station? For the third time in as many days, I vowed to get the downstairs lock changed. Hell, I’d call a locksmith as soon as Brian and Foudy left.
I grumbled underneath my breath as I walked to the door, still trying to process the reality of Wes Burke being a killer. How had the boy I’d known turned into the monster I was now pitted against?
My mind was still struggling with everything as I looked through the peephole and my breath froze in my chest.
“Oh my God!” I threw open the door, and pulled the trembling girl standing on my doorstep to my chest. “Amy! Are you all right?” As I yanked her into the room, I scanned the vestibule outside my door. She was alone. Bedraggled and scared as hell, her strawberry blonde hair hanging in disheveled ropes, but alone.
Brian and Foudy were close on my heels, as was an ecstatic Xena, excited by having someone different to play with. Before either of them could overwhelm the girl with cop business, I threw an arm over her shoulder and ushered her down the hall, pulling my glasses down to get a peek at her aura as I did.
Oh God, she was the same color Wes had been all those years ago, blue in a pure, innocent way that made my eyes begin to tear. Is that why he’d spared her? Or because I, who’d once been the most important person in his life, had asked him to? No, that couldn’t be it... The timeline wasn’t right. Unless he’d been sitting down on the street as he made his call. The thought was enough to give me the shivers.
I settled Amy into the armchair, leaving Foudy to bark orders about getting a counselor and a crime scene tech over to my place into her phone. Roney had bolted out the door for the street to see if whoever had dropped her off was still there.
I crouched in front of Amy and took a good long look at her. In her eyes, I saw a hint of power, untested and untried, but there nonetheless. At least the drugs Wes had used were out of her system. “Are you okay?”
She took a deep breath before promptly dissolving into tears. Xena scrambled onto her lap, as if to offer comfort, and she took it, burying her face in the dog’s silky coat.
I felt Monica standing behind me, her scowl burning into me. I stood and faced her squarely. “Give her a minute before you lay into her, Foudy. She’s been through—what did Brian call it before? Oh yeah, she’s been through the shit. Surely even you can understand that.” I turned on my heel and stalked into the kitchen for a glass of water for Amy. When I turned again, Foudy was watching me with an almost woun
ded expression that she hid as soon as she saw my face. Like I gave a crap. Right now Amy was what was important.
I returned to the girl and pressed the glass of water into her hand. “Here, sweetie. Drink this. It’ll help. I’d offer tequila, but it’s way too early, and your poppa would probably kill me.”
She laughed through a sob and gave me a watery smile. “You’re right. Can I call him?”
“In a few minutes, Amy,” Foudy said, her lips compressed into a tight line.
Brian chose the exact right moment to reappear, puffing hard. “Caught the taxi driver. He’s with the uniform we posted last night until we can talk to him.”
“You posted a uniform?” I asked, aghast. I hadn’t even noticed, which showed how far gone this whole thing had made me.
“Standard procedure, Wonder Girl. We thought you might be next,” Foudy said, then dismissed me and turned her attention to Amy. Her voice lowered and surprised me with its compassion. “Amy, my name is Monica Foudy, and I’m a cop. I need to talk to you about what happened while it’s fresh in your mind.”
Amy hiccoughed, took a drink of water and pushed her hair away from her face.
From what I could see, she was totally untouched. But only a physical examination would corroborate that impression. I couldn’t picture Wes sexually assaulting this girl, but I hadn’t visualized him going on a killing spree either, no matter how justified he perceived his reasoning to be.
“Okay, but I’m supposed to give this to Sara.” She reached into her windbreaker. Brian and Foudy froze for a split second before reaching for their sidearms.
I pushed my body in front of Amy’s a nanosecond before they cleared leather. I’d known, in a flash of intuition, their intentions before they even acted. “Jesus Christ, you two! Her aura is clean, okay? She’s not here to hurt anyone.” I turned back to Amy, and saw the damage their actions had wrought. This girl wasn’t going to say boo to anyone but me from this point on, and both Brian and Foudy figured their error out at the same time. It was like watching dual light bulbs go on over their heads.