by Hadena James
My options were limited, it was late, well after midnight. My team would all be in bed, sleeping. Some more peacefully than others, to be sure, but they didn’t need late night calls from me. I called Malachi again.
“I’m busy,” he growled into the phone.
“Are you with someone special?” I asked.
“If by special, you mean staking out the house of a serial killer, then yes,” he answered.
“Oh, weren’t you just on a case?” I thought for a moment. “What sort of serial killer?”
“The sort that kills people, Aislinn. And yes, there were two in this town, now there’s one and I’m watching his house. So what do you want?”
“You’re very grouchy.”
“I’m fairly certain he has a victim inside right this second and I can’t break down the door and rescue her.”
“Why?”
“Because he is a politician.”
“So?”
“Despite the fact that the Marshals have carte blanche to do as they please, the FBI still has some protocols it has to follow and until I hear a scream or some other sign of distress, my hands are tied.”
“You don’t have some random scream from a woman on an audio recording that you can play and claim you heard a scream?”
“That would be illegal.”
“Are you close enough that I could come break down the door for you?”
“I appreciate your futile attempts to help, but is there a reason you called me, again?”
“Yes, I have a cannibal with very little victim preference and he’s been at it for a long, long time. And everyone I know but you is asleep.”
“We are just as picky about our food as we are our sexual partners,” Malachi answered.
“Really? Does that mean you aren’t picky about food? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you send your food back when it wasn’t right, multiple times.”
“Did you just call me a man-whore?”
“I thought I was being subtle by implying you were pickier about food than what girl warmed your bed at night.”
“Like a freight train, Aislinn Cain.” My name rolled off Malachi’s tongue as if coated in chocolate.
“Ok, Dr. Seuss.”
“It did rhyme, didn’t it?” Malachi paused as if lost in thought. “Fine, perhaps some people are pickier about food than bed partners and some are pickier about bed partners than food. However, if I was eating someone, I’d want to make damn sure they didn’t have a disease before I started cutting off bits to throw in a crock-pot.”
“That is an interesting point, thanks,” I hung up again. My imagination had conjured an image of a hand sticking out of a crock-pot cooker, but it was the disease thing that struck a chord. Eating people raw was definitely not for the faint of heart or for germophobes.
One of these things was certainly not like the other. Homeless people were easy victims for the right sort of predator, but they were also the most likely to carry diseases.
Unfortunately, my thoughts quickly turned and instead of having great thoughts like Holmes in The Speckled Band, it became a myriad of mixed meanderings more in the style of The Island of Dr. Moreau. I wasn’t sure how the pieces fit together, but my imagination was conjuring blonde haired jaguar men. I didn’t know exactly why I thought the blonde haired men were being used for breeding purposes, but the thought had taken hold. That left the children and the homeless people left unexplained. I was willing to overlook the fact that men, blonde haired or not, could not breed with jaguars to create a super-race of half breeds ready to take over the world.
Eating homeless people might boost the immune system. Eating kids might be like a treat. Eating the blondes might be more black-widowish. That would mean our cannibal was a woman. I didn’t know of any female cannibals in modern history. Those were my last disturbing thoughts before sleep began to call my name.
Surprisingly, I didn’t dream of cannibals or even serial killers. I dreamed of Nyleena. Not a normal, holy crap, she’s been hurt, dream either. I dreamed that we were on a road trip, in August and she kept running over mailboxes while talking on her phone, despite my screams from the passenger’s seat. She just ignored me and kept running over the mailboxes. I wondered if I was a ghost.
“Come on sleepy head, the animal specialist is meeting with us in an hour,” Xavier’s voice woke me up. I opened my eyes and found my room completely empty. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and then looked again. There was still no Xavier. I got up and checked the bathroom. No Xavier in there either. I checked my phone, not so much as a text message.
The clock told me it was almost dawn. I tore off the patch I wore, put on a robe and slippers, and grabbed my emergency pack of cigarettes. Outside, the air was frigid. My nose instantly got cold. My toes started to tingle despite the slippers. I lit the cigarette wondering if I really wanted it that bad.
As I stood there, I remembered the zoologist had come the day before. He’d confirmed the bites were that of a large cat, most likely a jaguar. So, why had I dreamed about him waking me up? Another question to which I didn’t have the answer.
Gabriel came running outside. His face was flushed with color. He handed me a stack of clothing, including shoes.
“You can dress in the car,” Xavier said, coming out behind him.
We had a lead.
Family
Patterson stood outside the door of his sister’s condo. He hesitated. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to knock or not. Nina was not going to be happy to see him. She might call the police or she might shoot him. Or she might welcome him in and give him a cup of tea. Her moods were more regulated than Gertrude’s, but she was still prone to unpredictability.
“I’m tired of you lurking,” Nina opened the door as she spoke. Patterson looked surprised. “They called me and told me I had a visitor almost ten minutes ago. Since no one really comes to see me, especially older gentlemen, I knew it had to be you. Shut the door behind you.”
“Nina,” Patterson followed her inside, shutting the door behind him.
“I take it that Gertrude has finally tired of me and you’re here to finish the job.” Nina smiled. “Just can’t wait another couple of months, I’m too much of a drain on the resources of the family trust. Old bitch.”
“I’m not here to hurt you Nina,” Patterson motioned to a chair. Nina sat down. Patterson sat across from her on the couch. “I just heard about your cancer. I’m sorry.”
“Patterson, we both know that sympathy is beyond you, drop the act.” Nina sipped a cup of coffee that smelled strongly of alcohol. “What do you want?”
“I’m here to find August.” Patterson said. “He’s alive, Nina and he’s still killing.”
“You’re alive,” Nina left off the last part. It hung unspoken between them in the air.
“Did you know?” Patterson asked.
“I’ve suspected for the last year or so, but I don’t have proof.” Nina sighed. “Do you want coffee or tea?”
“Coffee would be fine,” Patterson answered. “Why have you suspected?”
“When the feet started turning up again, I got suspicious.” Nina answered from her tiny kitchen. She was living in a small condo in an assisted living facility. It was actually a hospice for those that could still get around, but neither wanted to dwell on that. “So, you’re here to kill August.”
“That was my original plan,” Patterson admitted. “I know it isn’t a job that anyone wants to talk about, but as long as he’s alive, Gertrude will do what she can to protect him and he’ll keep killing.”
“So, this is about justice?” Nina brought him a cup of coffee. It also smelled of alcohol. Patterson sipped it, feeling the creamy Bailey’s swirl through his mouth with the bitter black liquid.
“No, it’s about revenge, plain and simple.” Patterson hesitated. “And Aislinn’s on the case now.”
“Protecting her from finding out the secrets of our past or from the deranged desires of August?”
&n
bsp; “Both.”
“She doesn’t need you to hold her hand, Patterson,” Nina scolded him. “She has grown into quite the woman. She has all your strengths and a different set of weaknesses, but I don’t see her weaknesses as real weaknesses.”
“I think they make her stronger than I ever could have been.” Patterson hung his head. “I look back and think if I had been as strong as Aislinn, we wouldn’t have these secrets.”
“Maybe, but maybe we’d just have a whole different set of secrets. It has never been your fault that our parents were crazy. Or that we couldn’t escape them.”
“I should have done more for you.”
“No, Patterson, you shouldn’t. If you had, I would have ended up like Lila and you’d have one more death to regret.”
“You think I feel regret?”
“I see it on your face. Even with your mental condition, I see the pain on your face every time her name is mentioned. I know that’s why you have latched onto to Nyleena and Aislinn. They remind you of her.”
“They do remind me of her. And you.” Patterson looked at Nina. “How sick are you?”
“Very. Nothing they can do but give me painkillers to help me be comfortable. I think the girls should know. I think they should be informed of exactly what we’ve been hiding, exactly why you killed Lila. Aislinn is bound to figure some of it out if she catches August. She’s so smart, Patterson, I wish you could really appreciate how smart she is and with Nyleena, they are going to start putting the pieces together. You can’t hide anything from those two girls.”
“I do appreciate it Nina. When they work together, they are unstoppable.”
“They remind me of us,” Nina said. “When we were young, I mean. Before the world went to hell in a hand basket. I could guide you, help you navigate the crazy world you lived in, knowing that I was the only thing keeping you from sliding over the edge. Then you meet Lila and she was so good for you. She knew exactly what you felt and yet, loved you anyway. She was the best thing to ever happen to you. I’ve considered killing Gertrude for that. And she didn’t treat me like I was Lizzie Borden. She was good for both of us.”
“If I could have done something to clear you of that, I would have,” Patterson told his youngest sister. Gertrude and she were twins, but Gertrude was seventeen minutes older. When their parents had been found, there were lots of rumors about it being staged and the suspicion had fell on Nina. They could never prove it, but most still suspected her.
“I could have told someone,” Nina looked at him. “I have a favor to ask of you Patterson.”
“Anything,” Patterson answered.
“After I’ve had a talk with the girls, because the two of them are strong enough to handle it and understand it, I want you to kill me. It’s only going to get worse. Nothing messy, nothing painful, just two shots to the head to make sure that I die quickly and painlessly.”
“I can’t,” Patterson told her.
“Please Patterson, I’m begging. I’ve tried and I just don’t have the courage to kill myself. But you could surprise me and put me out of my misery.”
“Ok, Nina, I’ll do it, if you do me a favor. Help Aislinn to catch August.”
“I’ve told Malachi that you’re The Butcher.”
“I know.” Patterson said. “I bought a bunch of spy gear last year. That’s how I found out about August being alive. Gertrude’s been tapping your phones for years, I decided to return the favor.”
“You aren’t mad?”
“I was at first, but I know why you did it. There are still some people on my list, but I’m getting old, too old to continue this. Once Gertrude and August are stopped and hopefully, silenced, then I won’t mind ending it.”
“These secrets are killing us.”
“Yes, they are. They should die with us.”
“I disagree. I think Nyleena and Aislinn need to know why you were a killer. I think they need to know why we were as damaged as we were.”
“They’ll think less of us.”
“The others might, but not the girls. If their opinions change, it will be for the better, not the worst. You underestimate them.”
“I trust you. If you believe they should know, then you should tell them.”
“Thank you, Patterson. Now, I just need to figure out how to tell them. Both have offered to get me out of this nuthouse and move me to KC to be closer to them and Aislinn’s mother. Maybe I’ll take them up on it. Trapped in a car with me for two hours, I can tell them everything. You can kill me after we arrive.”
“You want me to follow you?”
“You already follow Aislinn.” Nina frowned at him. “It won’t be hard. I’m not sure about killing me in front of the girls though.”
“I’ll think on the best method. They live in secure housing, I won’t be able to break in while you sleep.”
“Plus, the moment the girls find out you’re The Butcher and about my cancer, they are going to stick to me like glue.”
“This won’t be easy,” Patterson finally looked up and made eye contact with Nina. “And I don’t just mean the girls. Killing you will be hard for me Nina.”
“I know, but you’ll do it, won’t you? To spare me more pain?”
“I will,” Patterson stood up. “If I can. Blake’s a good hunter.”
“He is,” Nina nodded. “But that’s not why I told him.”
“Then why did you tell him?”
“Because Aislinn and Nyleena needed to know. Malachi will tell them. You’ve hid this long, maybe it’s time to come out of the shadows.”
“I’ll go to The Fortress. I’m an old man who still has a list.”
“I can buy you time with Malachi.”
“How?” Patterson asked.
“I’ll tell him about Unger and August.”
“You believe that’s enough?”
“Yeah, I do. He isn’t as controlled as Aislinn and he hated his grandfather. The thought of having an uncle just like him will not make him very happy. He’ll drag his feet and you can slip away from him, for now. He or Aislinn will eventually catch you though.”
“I know,” Patterson looked at her for another few minutes. “However, I also believe they will be humane about it.”
Twenty
It wasn’t a lead. It was a guy in full tactical gear with a home-made flame-thrower in one hand and a Glock in the other. He’d shot an officer and torched a K-9 unit. The officer was still in the “no-go zone,” an imaginary line that separated everyone from the armed assailant. The dog had managed to limp back and was being taken to a vet.
The assailant was wearing a pumped up version of standard police tactical gear, complete with Kevlar suit and reinforcement plates. As a matter of fact, I had a very similar suit. It contained plates in the chest, back and abdomen areas. The legs and arms had a few extra layers of woven material. The helmet was shock absorbent and made of a polymer and coated with Kevlar. The face-shield was Plexiglas and fairly shatterproof. There was even a collar to protect the neck. I found it unwieldy and never wore it.
“What’s he on?” Xavier asked someone wearing a commander’s hat.
“PCP, Meth, Steroids,” the guy answered.
“I don’t like guessing games,” Xavier snarked.
“No, I mean he’s on all of them.” The commander shouted over the scream of the flame thrower suddenly coming to life.
“Good grief,” I groaned.
“How do you know he’s on all of that?” Xavier asked.
“See the house next door that’s on fire?” The commander asked. “That’s his brother’s house and his brother told us. The brother also thinks he killed his wife and kids before coming outside and trying to torch the neighborhood. Our problem is that our bullets aren’t working and we can’t risk a shot with a high caliber weapon because it could cause the tank to explode and we don’t know what’s in it.”
“What do you think?” Gabriel turned to me.
“If you guys can create en
ough of a distraction,” I shrugged and started taking off most of my weaponry.
“Enough of a distraction?” The commander asked.
“I’m a girl, I’m less of a threat,” I answered.
“In theory,” Xavier added.
“Fine, I’m less of a threat in theory.” I revised my statement.
“What exactly are you planning to do?” The commander asked.
“Get close.” I pulled off my jacket.
“Cain, if possible, try not to kill him,” Gabriel told me.
“You got it, Kemosabe,” I gave him a salute and put on a Kevlar vest that said US Marshals on the front and back in bright yellow letters. “Try not to let him roast me. I do not want another skin graft.”
“Take a helmet,” John handed me one of our tactical helmets from the SUV. “Just in case he aims for your head.”
I fastened the chin strap and nodded at him. I had a plan. It was a good plan, as long as it worked. There would be no sneaking up on the guy, his back was too close to the house for that. However, I could rush him from behind, in theory, if I snuck through the house, but it would require people to keep his attention and eyes forward.
“No gun?” The commander asked.
“She won’t need one,” Gabriel answered. “Go down and around. We’ll give you noise when you get to the back if you need to break in. Got your com on?”
I had to remove the helmet to get the communicator on. I stuck the black earpiece into my ear. Static crackled in my head as it turned on. Gabriel spoke and the sound echoed through my ear. I wasn’t a fan of the communicator, but it was a necessary evil. I slipped the helmet back into place.