His face battered, the man glared at Trey. A grin split his face, and he laughed.
Trey narrowed his eyes. “What’s so fucking funny, asshole?”
Bruno spit out blood. “I’m just thinking about all the shit I’m gonna do to you once I’ve got you on the ground. I’m not a professional, fuckwad. I’m gonna beat you way harder than I ever beat any piece-of-shit homeless parasite.”
A gunshot blasted through the quiet night.
“Ouch, motherfucker!” screamed someone from behind Trey.
What the fuck?
The bounty hunter spun and spotted a man with a 2x4 at his feet clutching his arm. Trey tackled the new guy and knocked his ass out with two clean punches.
He pulled out his reserve cuffs and secured the second man before yanking out his gun and spinning back toward Bruno.
The flashlight still on the ground pointed past the cuffed criminal and highlighted the slender silhouette of a woman. After a few seconds Trey recognized Aunt Charlyce, gun in hand.
Trey holstered his pistol. “I thought I told you to stay in the truck.”
“You’re my nephew, and ain’t no one gonna touch my nephew if I can stop it.”
The bounty hunter grinned. “Well, you saved my ass.” He winked down at Bruno. “Keep dreaming about all shit you were gonna to do me, Bruno. You can dream about it all the time you’re in fucking prison.”
15
“This doesn’t look creepy at all,” Detective West murmured as the cops’ car pulled up to the gate. He’d been expecting Anders Laboratory to be some tiny facility tucked away in a nice part of town, but instead, it was built at the base of a mountain on the edge of town.
His partner shrugged. “Maybe they wanted to keep it away from anything in case of an accident.”
“Like a red-eyed magical killer getting loose?”
“Yeah, exactly like that.”
Detective West stopped and rolled down his window. He pulled out his badge and ID to show to the security guard.
“Detective West. I called ahead.”
The security guard nodded and pressed a button in his guard post. “I’ll let them know you’re here.”
The metal gates blocking further passage parted with a groan.
A couple more minutes brought the detective to a small parking lot. Now that they had reached the building, they could see that Anders Laboratory wasn’t as small as it had appeared from a distance. The white facade with glass windows stretching to the roof was part of a larger complex that extended into the mountain. The scientists could have countless levels carved into the ground, as far as the cop knew.
“Yeah, this gets weirder by the second,” Detective West mumbled.
His partner nodded. “I checked into them. Not a huge amount of information, but they do have a license for dangerous hardcore shit. Like germ warfare shit.”
“Great. I’ll sleep better knowing that.”
The cops filed out of their car and made their way to the front entrance. Two smiling men in business suits stood in the open doorway, and they motioned the detectives inside.
One of them, an older man with silver hair, offered his hand. “I’m Doctor Anders, and this is one of my chief researchers, Doctor Simmons.”
The detectives shook the men’s hands.
White tile paved the massive entrance foyer. A front reception desk manned by a tense-looking woman was the only thing breaking up the room, other than a few white chairs near the entrance.
Doctor Anders motioned to the chairs. “Please take a seat.”
Detective West glanced at a chair. “You want to talk here?”
The scientist sighed. “We have many projects under non-disclosure agreements, both governmental and private. We can’t proceed farther into the facility without going through a number of legal procedures, which would take time.”
The two detectives sat, and the scientists followed.
Detective West glanced at the two men. Years of being a cop had given him great insight into body language. A man’s face screamed he was guilty long before his body, but these men didn’t seem afraid. They didn’t rub their hands or touch their faces. Didn’t shift in their seats.
If anything, the faint frowns they were barely concealing spoke to something else entirely: annoyance, as if taking a few minutes out of their day to assist a murder investigation was a burden.
The detective cleared his throat. “As I told you over the phone, we found three mutilated corpses in a warehouse in central Vegas. Information in their wallets linked them to your facility.”
Doctor Anders nodded. “I don’t handle low-level personnel management, but I did check with HR, and they verified that the three men worked security for our facility.”
Doctor Simmons frowned but didn’t say anything.
“I see. Do you have any idea why they’d be in a warehouse in central Vegas with assault rifles?”
Doctor Anders shrugged and looked at Doctor Simmons. “Assault rifles? Well, they are security personnel. I’m sure they are trained with all sorts of weapons. Doctor Simmons?”
“I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea. I didn’t work closely with security.”
Detective West nodded to his partner. Sometimes changing the interrogator could help, even going beyond Good Cop/Bad Cop.
“These guys…were chopped up,” Detective Lafayette explained. “Limbs cut clean off their bodies. One of the guys had been…partially eaten.”
“Eaten?” Doctor Anders echoed. “Well, I suppose there are rats and that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, well, these would have to had to be some big rats.”
“Maybe they snuck over from Oriceran.” Doctor Anders chuckled, as did Doctor Simmons.
“So you’re saying you have no idea what these men would have been doing there? Chasing something, perhaps?”
“I can assure you that we have no idea.”
“You said you have a lot of government contracts here,” Detective West mentioned, breaking in. “So I’m assuming you perform extensive background checks on all your employees?”
“Of course.”
“Would you mind sharing them with us?”
Doctor Anders sighed. “I hate to be difficult, Detective, but not without a warrant. There’s a privacy issue involved, and I don’t want our employees feeling like the information they’ve agreed to share will go to just whoever.”
“Not to ‘whoever.’ To the cops.”
“I’m sorry, but this is an elite facility. You probably couldn’t pass our background check.”
Detective West’s face twitched. “What kind of research do you do here?”
“I’m sorry, but we really can’t talk about that. NDAs, you understand.”
“Is it possible that something escaped from here?”
Doctor Anders laughed, and Doctor Simmons joined him.
Detective West shrugged.
“What’s so funny?” Detective Lafayette inquired.
“Oh, it’s we just don’t do the kind of work you’re thinking. It’s all microbes and that sort of thing. If something escaped,” he made air quotes around the word, “we’d know instantly. We have numerous air sensors monitoring for that sort of thing.”
“We’re talking something bigger. Something man-sized.”
The scientists exchanged annoyed looks again before Doctor Anders responded. “Man-sized? Microbes… Well, they’re microbes. They don’t get even insect-sized.”
“You follow the news at all?”
Doctor Anders frowned, apparently taken off-guard. “I find it’s mostly trivia for the masses.”
“A killer is stalking the streets of Las Vegas, a red-eyed killer with magical powers. We think it is responsible for killing your men. Our forensic analysis found unidentified bone particles in some of the wounds, both at the warehouse and some of the other sites. DNA testing suggests human origin, but there are some differences. I don’t…understand all of them, but there’s some evidence that wha
tever it is isn’t fully human. The lab isn’t really sure. They’ve never seen anything like it.”
Doctor Anders crossed his arms and leaned back. “That is fascinating.” He looked at Doctor Simmons. “Can you imagine something like that?”
The other scientist shrugged. “I think I can solve the mystery of our men at least, Detective.”
Detective West nodded. He’d hoped mentioning the forensic evidence would get their tongues moving, but he’d expected to have to work them a bit more.
The cops both leaned forward, eagerness on their faces.
The scientist cleared his throat. “I imagine they were driving to or from work. Many of our security men here are quite conscientious. Perhaps they saw your strange semi-human killer and decided to go after it.” He clucked his tongue. “It’s an unfortunate loss, I suppose. This is why people should leave that sort of thing to law enforcement or bounty hunters.”
Detective West’s hands squeezed into fists. “You’re both saying that you don’t think this has anything to do with your lab?”
“I can’t see how it would. Germ hunters don’t use rifles.”
“Maybe some germ you fucked with changed someone.”
Doctor Anders laughed. “You’ve watched too many movies, Detective. If you want strange changes, go talk to an Oriceran or a wizard.” He glanced down at his watch. “I hate to cut this short, but since this doesn’t actually seem to relate to our lab directly, both Doctor Simmons and I have things to attend to.”
“Fine,” the detective agreed through gritted teeth. “If you find anything we should know about, please let us know.”
Doctors Anders and Simmons stood.
“Of course, detectives.” Doctor Anders nodded toward the door. “I’m sure you can see yourselves out.” With that both the scientists turned toward the elevator.
Detective West and his partner made their way outside before he spoke again. “Did you notice there was a complete lack of sympathy for their dead employees?”
Detective Lafayette nodded. “It’s like it was an annoying inconvenience to them, but I don’t think we’re going get a warrant just because those guys worked here.”
“Yeah. Not yet, but it’s a start.”
James sat at a table in the back of the bar, not sure who looked more threatening: him, or the two men already present.
Nothing approaching fear entered his mind, but he didn’t want to have to get into a fight and risk his chance to get information. Red Eyes needed his ass kicked as soon as possible, and every minute the bounty hunter spent gathering information was another minute his prey could be killing someone.
One of them, a short man with blood-shot eyes, looked him over. “Here you are in the flesh, James Brownstone.”
The bounty hunter shrugged. “You Tim?”
“That’s what I’m going by today.” The man sneered. “And that’s all you need to know, but I’m impressed that you were able to track me down.”
“I know people. They tell me things.”
The other man chuckled. “But you don’t know enough people or things, which is why you’re here, right?”
James shrugged. “My friends tell me that you’re the man to talk to if someone needs to know what’s happening on the street around here, and I need to know.”
Tim gave James a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I guess that’s true, but why the fuck should I help you? I don’t like your type.” The man narrowed his eyes. “And if you try to threaten my ass, I’m walking right out of here and bullets will be flying.”
The other man at the table’s hand drifted toward a suspicious bulge in his jacket.
James grunted. If he were in LA he’d know how hard he could push, but tossing a man through a window to make a point probably wouldn’t get him the information he needed in a timely manner.
“I don’t want trouble. I just want information, and I can pay.”
The bounty hunter locked eyes with Tim. James might not want to throw threats around, but he wasn’t leaving this bar until he got the information he needed. A monster walked the streets, and it was time for a little alien-enhanced-ass-kicking.
Tim nodded to his silent friend. The second man rose and headed toward the bar, the swish of his jacket revealing his gun.
He nodded at James. “I got information, Brownstone, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give it to you without a good reason.”
“Good reason? You must have already heard that I’m looking for the Red Eyes Killer.”
Tim shrugged. “I hear a lot of things. So, what, am I supposed to be impressed?”
“How the fuck is that not a good reason? This guy isn’t making business opportunities for drug dealers or some shit. This is a fucker butchering innocent people in front of children. Even a guy like you has to have some lines you think shouldn’t be crossed.”
The other man’s face darkened. “Not saying this guy is on my list of favorite people, but business is business. I’m not running a charity here.”
“Those on the street know the score, and I’m just trying to get someone who kills off the street so you won’t be bothered. Eventually, this guy’s gonna try and take it beyond killing random parents. He’ll fuck with people like you or your contacts. Come on, we both know that guys who think they are tough shit like to go after underworld people to make a point.”
“True.” Tim rubbed his chin. “I still want ten thousand for my trouble.”
James snorted. “Even though I’m trying to stop a serial killer?”
“Can’t buy beer with good intentions, Brownstone, and I don’t do community service. It’s only because this guy’s a piece of shit that I’m willing to help you at all.”
James nodded. “Fine. I’ll pay what you want. You should know I’m good for it.” His hands curled into fists, and he still wanted to throw the man through a window.
Tim grinned. “Glad we could do business. I’ll tell everyone that you’re a reasonable guy when it comes down to it.” He looked around at the room before focusing on James again. “He’s been on the move. From what I hear, people have been seeing him in Rancho Charleston.”
“Are you sure it’s him? Maybe people are just freaking out.”
“Not a lot of red-eyed freaks around with weird skin, even in Las Vegas.”
James frowned. “And how come the cops can’t find him?”
“Come on, Brownstone, you’re a bounty hunter. You should know.”
James shrugged. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“I’m not like a lot of guys. I’ve got no beef with the police. We all have our roles. The thing is, though, the police—they’re reactive, not proactive.” Tim laughed. “And this is America. We like that shit. We don’t want the police all up in our faces asking us about shit we haven’t even done yet.”
“This is a murder investigation, though. It’s not about being proactive.”
“Nope, but it is about limited money and priorities. I’m just saying they aren’t plugged into the underbelly of the city like I am. Plenty of people out there who don’t want attention, but see things like Red Eyes in Rancho Charleston. They talk to me, but avoid the cops.”
James narrowed his eyes. “If people know where he is, why hasn’t anyone gone after him?”
“Why risk your life when someone like the cops or James Brownstone is going to do it?” Tim shook his head. “There’s a guy out there, Little Blue. I’ve set up a meeting. Let him know that Simon sent you and he’ll help you out.”
“Simon? But your name is Tim!”
The other man laughed. “I was high when I set that shit up, and Little Blue. Well, he’s particular, you see. He doesn’t like it when people change things.” He stood. “Good luck, Brownstone. I hope you find this Red Eyes guy and take him out. I’ll be in touch for my money.”
16
The F-350 rumbled along the streets of Las Vegas. Little Blue had filled James in on a few more sightings of Red Eyes. He was struck by how the killer seemed to be
hiding from some people, but all but announcing his presence to others. So far no one who’d spotted Red Eyes had seen him recently enough for it to be useful, but at least their sightings established that the man was still in the area.
Rancho Charleston wasn’t that big an area, and tracking the asshole down was moving from the improbable to the likely column.
Guess it’s a good thing I brought my guns, knives, and that grenade, even if I didn’t bring the amulet.
Taking on a level four without the protection of his amulet would be a risk, but the fact that Red Eyes was still hiding suggested that the killer lacked the raw power of someone like King Pyro. If all else failed, James would just cut the guy’s head off. That worked most of the time.
James had hunted enough bounties to see that there was some sort of pattern underlying Red Eyes’ movements, probably something about the killer trying to make a show of his strength. But at the same time, murdering parents in front of their kids didn’t do much to prove the man was an ass-kicker.
Maybe I’m wrong, and I shouldn’t think about it too hard. The guy’s probably just a fucking psycho. Or maybe it’s about strength and fear.
James pulled his truck over to the curb. A few gang members lingered near a building, smoking joints.
The bounty hunter killed his engine, then stepped out and made his way over to the gang members.
One of them looked up from his joint. “You’re fucking James Brownstone, right?”
“Yeah,” James rumbled. “Little Blue told me about some people who might have seen the Red Eyes Killer.” He reached into his jacket.
The gang members all whipped out their guns.
James snorted and pulled out his wallet. “If I wanted your asses, this already would have been over.”
“Maybe we’ll just jack your wallet, bitch.”
James shook his head and glared at the men. “I’ve been itching to put someone through a wall the last few days, so go ahead and try. Or you can get a little cash to help track down a fucking serial killer.”
The gang members exchanged looks before putting their guns away.
When Angels Cry_An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure Page 12