[Kane and Thorne 01.0] Creatures of Appetite

by Todd Travis

  41

  A couple of hours later and Thorne was still in front of his chessboard. He listened to his other favorite, Nina Simone, on the CD player. She crooned her classic “I Put A Spell On You” at high volume. Thorne had been alternating Nina and Charlie, hoping for relief.

  The wind howled against the windows but Thorne was oblivious, concentrating only on his game while deep within the rhythm of the song.

  He’d always been capable of this. He had the ability to lose himself within a game and solid jazz. His concentration was so focused that much of the outside world at that point ceased to exist. Thorne put himself in this place in his mind and usually, at some point, the answer he sought would come. Thorne was a big believer in observable fact and old school math, but by themselves they weren’t strong enough to find an answer, they needed inspiration and imagination in order to be complete. Almost always they came together before the end of a game. Almost always.

  Thorne carefully moved his black knight forward, now within striking distance of the white king. The trap was set.

  42

  After dinner had been served, eaten and the dishes loaded and humming away in the dishwasher, Kane and Scroggins settled on the couch in front of the fireplace to finish off the bottle of red wine that Kane had brought.

  Kane was red-faced and giggling, feeling the intoxicating effect of both the wine and the attractive company she was keeping.

  “You think that’s funny, this one is even better,” Scroggins said. “This guy’s parked out on the highway, taking a major piss right out in front of God and everybody, blitzed out of his skull and I get there, jump out, weapon drawn, being the eager young rookie that I was, and I shout ‘Hold it! Put your hands in the air!’ And he turned toward me, dick in his hand, and says, ‘Well which is it? You want my hands in the air or you want me to hold it? I can’t do BOTH!’”

  Kane went from giggling to outright laughter. Scroggins poured her more wine, finishing off the bottle.

  “Okay, Kane, there’s something I just gotta know.”

  “What’s that, Scroggins?”

  “Here’s the thing that I do not understand. Now, you may not be aware of this, but you’re a very attractive woman.”

  “Am I?”

  “Absolutely. Not that something like that is important to me, not at all.”

  “I’m sure it’s not.”

  “Right. But what I do not understand is how a woman as attractive as you could possibly be single, available and sitting next to me on my couch. It’s beyond my comprehension as a male.”

  “Well, I am well armed, so that might have something to do with it.”

  “That’s not something that I consider a drawback; in fact, it only adds to your allure. Seriously, though, there’s never been anyone you thought about, you know, settling with?”

  “There was someone in DC, another cop. We lived together for awhile, but things happened. It ended about a year or so ago.”

  “What happened?”

  Kane blinked and recalled everything in an instant. The turmoil of the events in the van took an immediate toll on her love life. She just completely lost all interest in Tim, both physically and emotionally, after The Van Incident. They saw a counselor together and she of course saw the department shrink, but it was over and done the moment she climbed out of that river.

  In fact, she never thought about him at all anymore, unless a picture or a specific question brought her back to that time. Five years with Tim and all of a sudden it was as if they never happened. It must have hurt him terribly when she left.

  “It would be fair to say that the job got in the way of the relationship.”

  “It does that, doesn’t it?”

  “What about you?” Kane asked him. “How is it that an attractive man such as yourself with his own house and excellent culinary skills is still single and available?”

  “You know, I was just wondering about that myself.”

  “Were you?”

  “Oh yeah, hell, I think I’m a good catch. I just haven’t been caught yet. I think it’s just a matter of timing. It hasn’t yet been time, but hopefully that time will be soon.”

  “What about Barb Mullens?”

  “Oh shit, you talked to Jeff, he’s trying to cock-block me. Look. Barb and me? Ancient history. Really. I mean, you never forget your first crush, right? Answer this. Who was your first big time love?”

  “Darin Hartzler, eighth grade.”

  “That’s what I’m saying, you don’t forget your first. That was Barb and me, we were the homecoming couple at high school, the whole deal. But when I enlisted and went away, she fell in love with Chad Mullens. Shit happens. I like Chad, he’s a good man. Thing is, like, after I got my badge and moved back home, back to town, I used to hang out with the both of them, we went to dinner together, bowling, we were friends. Bunch of us that went to school together hung out, Jeff and me and … well, nobody else you would know, but a bunch of us. We all socialized.

  “The problem was when I started working night shift and Chad and everyone else worked days. That’s when it started to get hinky, not for us but for everybody else. I was off during the day and since Barb is a housewife and home at the same time, we’d do things, run errands, take Darcy out for a ride, all that. Sometimes folks in town would see Barb and me having lunch or walking in the park in the afternoon and they would, you know, they would talk.”

  “They thought you two had hooked back up again.”

  “Yeah, small towns, that’s how it is. Someone thought something and then someone else started talking, even though nothing happened, everybody talked like it did. And even though it was all talk and bullshit, it caused tension, to the point Chad started saying things. So a couple of years ago, Barb and Chad and me just sort of stopped being social at all.

  “It hurt, because I liked them, we’d all been friends forever, and I loved Darcy, she was a real sweetheart. It was a tough thing but it was for the best, it really was. Small town gossip can get nasty and not only could it have hurt their marriage, it could have cost me my job. A trooper can get IAD’d right out of a job for adultery. They take that shit seriously in Nebraska. Even a hint of impropriety can hurt you. That’s why I’m a bit touchy about it. My job is everything to me, you know what I’m saying?”

  That question caused Kane to start thinking again, remembering how pleased she was the day she got her badge, how Tim had wanted her to quit after The Van Incident and how angry that had made her.

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “So tell me, Emma,” Scroggins leaned forward so that his face was only a few inches away from hers.

  “Tell you what?”

  “Why’d you decide to work in law enforcement?”

  “I like guns.”

  “Me too. They don’t let you use them, most other jobs.”

  “I know! Can you believe that?”

  Scroggins leaned a little closer to her face. Kane evaded him by taking a strategic sip of wine. Scroggins smiled good-naturedly, leaned back and stretched. He picked up the remote control to the stereo and turned it on.

  The song, “Always,” by Bon Jovi, began to play softly at low volume. Kane sighed and set her jaw. This would be a hell’ve a lot easier if she didn’t actually like him so much. Damn it all, who would’ve thought, in Nebraska of all places?

  A howling wind shook the windows.

  “Listen to that wind,” Scroggins said.

  “Gerry.”

  “It’s nasty out there. You know what?”

  “What?”

  “You just might have to spend the night.”

  “Gerry.”

  “What? We get snowed in, we get snowed in.”

  “Gerry.”

  “I don’t have any control over the weather, that’s out of my hands, what am I supposed to do?”

  “Gerry.”

  “What?”

  “You’re a great guy, but …”

  “Thank you.”

&nbs
p; “But …”

  “But what?”

  “But THIS is just a friendly dinner. This … is NOT ... a DATE.”

  “It’s friendly, I’m friendly and you’re friendly,” Scroggins leaned in close to Kane again.

  “It’s friendly but it is not a date.”

  This time Kane let his face get close to hers.

  “A friendly non-date dinner between two attractive …”

  “Not a date.”

  “Two attractive and available people not on a date. That’s what’s happening here. That’s all, nothing else,” Their faces were close enough now that their lips nearly touched.

  “Nothing else.”

  Scroggins kissed Kane and was caught off guard by the passion with which she returned his kiss. Kane grabbed the hair on the back of his head and kissed him with a hunger that surprised even her, a hunger she thought she wouldn’t be feeling ever again.

  Kane ripped open Scroggins’s flannel shirt and took it off of him as she kissed him again and again, running her hands over his chest, catching her fingers in the hair there, something she always liked doing to men.

  Scroggins pulled her shirt out of her slacks, lost his balance on the couch and then the two of them toppled off and onto the floor. They laughed and kissed again, taking more time with it but with no less passion or excitement. They kissed and then some.

  43

  Charlie “Bird” Parker wailed away at his classic “Now’s The Time,” Thorne’s personal favorite composition from the Bird. In fact, when the song ended, Thorne skipped back and played it again, so far five times in a row, waiting for the “Bird” to bring him home.

  Thorne moved the white queen to block the dark knight that threatened the white king. He turned the board around to consider it from the black side. Thorne made another move and put the dark rook in position. He spun the board and examined the white position. Other than to move chess pieces, Thorne had not stirred from his desk for hours.

  “Agent Thorne?”

  Thorne glanced up to see Johnson staring at him.

  “What?”

  “It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

  “So?”

  Thorne moved his white queen again, countering the black attack. He spun the board back around.

  “So, uh,” Johnson stuttered, “Norm’s been gone for awhile and … I think I’m gonna go home now.”

  “So go.”

  Johnson blinked. He turned and went back to his desk. Norm had said to stick around as long as the fibbie did and it sure didn’t look like he was going to able leave any time soon.

  Thorne made his final move with a dark knight. He leaned back.

  Checkmate.

  Fucking checkmate.

  Black wins.

  It’s over.

  “FUCK!”

  Thorne angrily swept the chessboard off of the table. He stood and kicked a desk chair across the room. Johnson, startled by the sudden noise, ran over from his desk and stopped a few feet away from the FBI agent, struck dumb by the sight of Thorne in a rage.

  “MOTHERFUCKER! COCKSUCKER!” Thorne pounded the table with his fist. He noticed Johnson.

  “You know what REALLY bothers me about this whole fucking thing?” Thorne said. “Besides everything? Look at this, fucking look at this,” Thorne pointed at the map of Nebraska.

  “The first kill was WAY over here, in North Platte, hundreds of miles away from where McNeil lives. What’s the first rule, what’s the first thing they hammer into your skull at the academy?”

  “What?”

  “First rule in school, serial killers start close to home and work out. That’s how it is, ninety-five percent of the time. But not our Iceman, he’s onto us, knows the rules already, seen the movies, knows every contact leaves a trace, knows to leave false forensics, knows basically what we look for and for some reason went backwards to end up ten miles away from where he lived.”

  “But …”

  “Question one. You think McNeil was that smart? Answer, no, he was not. Question two. Where was he really going? What was he working towards? Was his goal to kill little girls until he got to his neighborhood and then take his own life? And if so, why?”

  “Well, he must have known that we were onto him.”

  “How? How could he fucking know what we were doing? Look at the Iceman’s pattern. A straight, very nearly evidence-free line to Denton, Nebraska. We get to Denton and a fingerprint is LITERALLY dropped at our doorstep. A fingerprint that leads to a suspect that ALMOST fits the profile, a suspect who is very conveniently dead as Dillinger AND has a house full of evidence. Question three. Is every number and decimal point in this equation accounted for? Answer. No. It doesn’t fucking add up.”

  “But we got him, right?”

  “You … NOT listening. McNeil … NOT smart enough. Why are you still here? Go home. Get the fuck out of here!”

  Johnson walked quickly back to his desk, anxious to get away from Thorne, reflexively grabbing recently arrived faxes from the fax machine. Thorne was definitely a grumpy scary fucker and Johnson just knew he was going to be stuck here all night with this cuckoo.

  Thorne kicked his desk. He stalked over to the map of Nebraska and glared at it. Charlie “Bird” Parker worked on his temper and Thorne finally relaxed and sighed. Thorne noticed a computer printer next to one of the desks.

  It was an Epson Stylus 700.

  “I am a fucking simpleton,” Thorne said to himself. “Johnson!”

  Johnson popped back up like a prairie dog, too scared to disobey.

  “Who uses this printer?”

  “Everybody on this side of the room, Agent Kane, Gerry, Jeff, you. Andy. Me. Why?” Johnson blew a sigh, wondering when this night would be over and he would be quit of this whacko fed. He flipped through the faxes in his hand.

  “Why?” Thorne grabbed his jacket. “We’re a long way past why! I need a car and I need it now, Johnson!”

  Johnson, suddenly startled by one of the faxes in his hand, froze before he could answer.

  “Johnson! You’re not listening again! What is it?”

  “This came in an hour ago and it’s probably a joke, but …”

  Eyes narrowing, Thorne swiped the paper from Johnson. He read it and looked up at Johnson.

  “Can you find whose number this is?”

  “Yeah, I just have to …”

  “Do it!”

  Johnson scurried off.

  Thorne looked at the fax again. Scrawled in large block letters, it read:

  TO: THORNE

  FR: ICEMAN

  RE: THE HEARTLAND CHILD MURDERS

  DEAR FEDERAL JAGOFF,

  TASTE NEEDS TO BE TAUGHT.

  Thorne dug into his pocket for his cell phone.

  “Shit,” Thorne said. “Kane.”

  44

  The noise of the storm woke Kane.

  She was wrapped in Scroggins’s arms in his bed, naked and warm under several quilts and a thick comforter. Kane did get to see his bedroom after all and it was everything she thought it would be. Kane glanced at the alarm clock on the table next to the bed. Half past one and the blizzard was still going strong.

  Kane looked at Scroggins asleep next to her. He snored and though it was a bit loud, it was kind of cute, too. She gently moved his arms off of her and slid out of bed. Scroggins snorted and rolled over on his side away from her. He wrapped the comforter around him and snored even louder.

  This noise might be a problem in the future, if we have one. Don’t want to think about that now, Kane thought. Great sex, great release and that’s good enough. For now.

  Kane sat on the bed and fished for her panties under the covers. In the movies people always seemed wake up after a marathon sex session still clad, magically, in their underwear. Kane had to look for hers and in the dark, too.

  Her panties were the only article of clothing to make the trip upstairs to the bedroom, everything else got left downstairs on the couch when Gerry scooped her
up in his arms and carried her to bed. She finally found her panties and slid them on. Putting on one of his T-shirts, Kane padded out of the bedroom.

  There’s another bathroom up here, if she remembered correctly, right down the hall from the bedroom. Kane found it and sat on the toilet without turning on the light. Kane peed and giggled at herself. I’m already comfortable enough here that I use the bathroom with the door open, she thought.

  Kane flushed the toilet and stepped out of the bathroom. She heard a strange noise downstairs and stopped before going back to the bedroom. She tiptoed to the stairs and peeked down to the lower landing.

  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The fire in the fireplace had burned itself down to glowing embers. Kane heard it again, the noise, a low buzzing noise. Her weapon lay on the coffee table where she’d left it. She tiptoed downstairs to the living room.

  The buzzing noise got louder. Kane picked up her pistol and searched for the source. The light on the alarm panel next to the front door was still green. Okay, she thought, that means nobody has come in or gone out.

  So where was that noise coming from?

  Kane tracked the buzzing sound and found that it was coming from her pants on the floor. She picked her pants up and took her cell phone out of the pocket. She’d left it on vibrate but it ceased buzzing before she could answer. Went to voicemail. The phone screen informed her that she had missed several calls. She didn’t recognize any of the numbers but it was probably Thorne, fucking with her. Fuck him, she was off duty.

  Kane sighed and set the phone and gun aside for a moment in order to put her pants back on. She picked them back up and headed back to bed, phone in one hand and gun in the other.

  Her cell phone vibrated again on her way up the stairs, startling her.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Kane, where the fuck are you?”

  “Thorne?” Kane whispered. “Why are you calling me, don’t you ever sleep?”

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  “What do you care, where the fuck are you?” Kane retorted.