by M. Z. Kelly
The rock smashed through one of the glass inserts and we called out, announcing ourselves. When there was no response, we went inside with our guns drawn.
We were in the process of clearing the house, when we heard Leo calling out to us from the master bedroom. His voice was higher than usual, telling me he was under some kind of distress. “In here. I think this must be her husband.”
Leo had found a light switch and illuminated the bedroom as I came through the door with Bernie on alert. The scene was so ghastly and bizarre that it stopped me in my tracks. “What the hell…”
Joe was behind me, looking over my shoulder. “God damn it.”
A man’s mutilated body was lying on the bed. His head had been severed, along with his arms and legs, leaving only the torso in one piece. A large carving knife, probably taken from the kitchen of the home, was embedded in his chest. There was blood everywhere.
While Leo made calls to the local authorities, Joe and I left the bedroom. I gave Bernie the settle command, then turned to Joe, a single word escaping my throat. “Why?”
“Dead men tell no tales,” Joe said, taking a breath. “And they made sure Moore’s husband wouldn’t be talking.
He regarded me. “You okay?”
I tried to breathe evenly. “Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting anything like this.”
His pale eyes swept over the Moores’ living room. “We better be prepared for the worst. Brown and Macy have the shrink, and, based on what happened to her husband, there’s no telling what they have planned for her.”
THIRTY-FIVE
THE VISITOR
It’s morning now. At least, it’s my morning. I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was thinking about Nancy for a long time. Maybe I thought so hard about her being real that I made her mad and she doesn’t want to find me. If that’s the way she feels, it’s okay. I understand, because I like to be left alone too, sometimes.
There are some girls in my class that don’t understand that. I was in the restroom once and they came in. Debbie’s the leader of their group and said I was ugly and I’d better not hang around her or her friends. I don’t think I’m beautiful, but I know I’m not ugly. People tell me that I look a lot like my mama, and I know that she’s pretty.
I told Mama about what happened at school the next day. She said the girls were probably just jealous. I’m not sure that’s true because there isn’t a lot for them to be jealous about. We don’t have very much money and my clothes are…
I hear something! It’s coming from outside. I’ve never heard anything from outside since I’ve been down here. It sounds like maybe someone is above me, above the room that I’m in. I’m not sure what to do. If I call out and it’s the man who is coming to kill me, it might make him mad. Maybe, if I’m very quiet, he will keep going and won’t find me.
I’m going to turn off the light and sit in the dark. Even if he comes down the stairway, it will be so dark that maybe he won’t see me. I’m going to be very quiet now. I still hear someone moving around up there, and it’s scary.
A long time has passed and I’ve been quiet, sitting in the dark. I don’t hear the sounds above me anymore. If it was the man, I think he’s gone away. I didn’t call out because I was scared. I don’t know if I did the right thing, but I was afraid. Mama says it’s okay to be afraid because it’s the way your body protects you.
I’m going to turn on the light again. I don’t like the darkness.
It took me a moment, but I found my way over to the lamp. The light is back on now. It seems brighter than before. It’s hard to see because…
“Hello.”
“Who are…”
My heart is suddenly beating fast and I’m having trouble catching my breath. There’s a girl here! She’s standing over by the stairway. She has dark hair, like mine, and we’re about the same age. I think I know who she is.
I think it’s Nancy. I made her real!
THIRTY-SIX
We spent the rest of the day processing the scene at the Moores’ residence, along with Lieutenant Oz, Darby, and Buck. We found a phone number for Ellen Moore’s parents and learned they had been watching the children while their mother was away. We also confirmed with the hospital that Moore was still missing, along with Joshua Brown. We were now fairly certain that Macy and Brown had kidnapped her.
We had also learned from Halgen that Quinton Macy had received one transfusion of their so called miracle drug. I had no idea what Neustasis was supposed to do. All I did know was that, based on what had transpired, the drug was a complete failure.
The crime scene was under the jurisdiction of Pasadena PD, but, as a courtesy, Chief East was able to get an agreement that Cathy Maitland and her SID staff could work the crime. I’d also asked Rose Castillo to respond to the residence, to give us her expert analysis of what happened. After the two women had done a preliminary examination of the bedroom and learned the details of the crime, they met with us in the living room.
“I’m sure you already know,” Maitland said, “Mr. Moore suffered multiple traumatic injuries. There were numerous cuts to the body that look like they were pre-mortem, so the attack probably went on for some time before he was killed. There were multiple prints taken from the scene, all of them coming back to his wife, Joshua Brown, and Quinton Macy.”
“Do you think his wife was present during the attack?” Oz asked.
“We have no way of knowing for sure, but it’s likely, given that this was a crime involving fear and intimidation, not to mention mutilation.”
“Somebody really cut his dick off?” Darby asked. He was stating something that we’d already determined based upon a closer examination of the body.
“Yes, along with the other injuries,” Maitland confirmed. “It was about as gruesome an attack as I’ve ever seen.”
“Any thoughts on why they did this?” I asked, turning to Rose.
“I think the killers were sending a message that Dr. Moore’s husband wouldn’t be talking about anything that happened to her. I also talked to Ms. Rogers, your crime analyst, earlier today. She’s been in contact with Dr. Moore’s sister, for some background information on the family. She said the couple was having some marital difficulties. The husband had apparently been cheating on her.”
“Maybe our killer twins did her a favor,” Darby said. “Cut it off as a payback.”
As usual, what Darby had said irritated the hell out of me. Joe seemed equally annoyed with him.
“It looks like you were right about Brown having a partner,” Joe said to Rose. “Any other thoughts on this?”
“The fact that they probably took Dr. Moore with them, rather than kill her, tells me they’re planning to use her in whatever they have planned next.”
“Which one of our two killers do you think is calling the shots on what’s been happening?” Leo asked her.
“Ms. Rogers was also able to obtain the hospital records on Mr. Macy. He’s a brilliant and deranged psychopath, someone who apparently doesn’t fit the usual diagnostic criteria. I believe Macy has been working with Brown for years, even while he’s been in the hospital, using him as a surrogate to kill. They likely devised the plan for Brown to come to work at the hospital to assist Macy in his escape. It’s just a guess at this point, but I think he could be the dominant, with Brown carrying out his orders.”
Oz spoke up. “I don’t understand how these two bonded. Isn’t there some kind of separation protocols between the patient and staff at the hospital?”
Rose nodded. “There’s supposed to be, but, frankly, the state hospitals are notorious for having lots of problems, including inappropriate staff-patient relationships. Once Macy was accepted into the clinical trial, he probably seized the opening. He worked with Brown, planning the escape together, and likely used Dr. Moore in their scheme.”
“But what’s in this for Brown?” I asked. “He’s operated on his own for years.”
“As I said, Brown has probably been acting as M
acy’s killing surrogate for years. Macy likely manipulated him, convincing him that if he would help him escape, there would be many more opportunities for him to satisfy his killing needs once he was freed.”
“Maybe Moore was also in on it,” Darby suggested. “It could be that we’ve got a three-way.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said, unable to keep my anger with him at bay any longer.
“Call it what you want, but there was a nurse back east who helped a couple of inmates escape from a prison. She was screwing them both, and helped them get out through a tunnel.”
After Dr. Castillo also discounted what he’d said, Buck told us, “I was talking to one of the responding officers a little while ago. The press is aware of what happened. They also know that Brown and Macy are working together.”
“Damn,” I said, turning to Joe. “How does the press already know?”
“Not sure, but, if I were a betting man, I’d bet that my boss already knows about this shit storm. Don’t be surprised if he wants to take over your investigation first thing tomorrow.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Dr. Ellen Moore fought against the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. She tried to take slow, even breaths, and push down her fear. She had no idea where she was, but reasoned she’d been in the trunk of her captors’ car for almost an hour.
The horrifying images of what Quinton Macy and Joshua Brown had done to her husband haunted her. She’d been bound and gagged and then brought into the bedroom as they’d tortured Brian. When it was over and they removed her gag, she’d pleaded with them to let her go.
Joshua had laughed at her request, saying, “Look on the bright side. At least he’ll never talk back or cheat on you again.”
Ellen had no idea how he’d known Brian had cheated on her, unless he’d secretly been watching her family in the weeks prior to everything happening. She tried not to dwell on the horrible events, instead focusing her mind on her present circumstances and concentrating on the movements of the car.
She knew they’d been on a freeway for a long time, but had turned off onto surface streets about ten minutes earlier. The air felt heavier now and she had a thought they might be near the ocean. That thought led to a memory of her and Brian taking the children to the beach last summer. The children. She could only pray that the monsters who held her captive wouldn’t go after Eric and Jennifer.
Focus…Breathe…Concentrate…
Several minutes passed before the car slowed down, turned, and then parked. When the engine was turned off, she heard muffled voices. Then Joshua’s voice grew louder. Was it her imagination, or were they arguing?
A door opened and then closed. Minutes passed. She wanted to scream, but she could barely breathe, let alone call out for help with the gag in her mouth. The minutes ticked by until she heard a door open, the men talking to one another again. The car started and she had the impression they were moving slowly, maybe through a parking lot.
The car stopped, then she heard both doors opening, followed by footsteps. The trunk lid swung up and for an instant she saw the face of her captors. A blanket came down, covering her, before she was lifted up and carried away.
A few minutes later, a door closed behind her and she was lowered. The blanket came off and she realized she was in a small room. It took a moment for her senses to clear. She was in a motel room. What were they going to do to her?
Seconds later, Joshua was in front of her, his face inches from hers. “I’m going to remove the gag. If you scream or show any form of resistance, we’ll make sure what happened to Brian happens to you, only worse. Understand?”
She nodded. He reached up and removed the gag. When he was satisfied that she was going to cooperate, he did the same with the ropes that bound her legs.
“Use the bathroom, then come back,” Joshua ordered.
As she stumbled toward the bathroom, Ellen saw that Quinton Macy’s yellow eyes were fixed on her. That thin familiar smile was on his lips, terrifying her.
While she was in the bathroom, Ellen’s first thought was to try and get out through a window and escape, but the only window was high up and inaccessible. As she used the toilet, she listened to her captors’ voices again. One of the men raised his voice, his tone pitching higher. They were arguing. She was sure of it now. Joshua was angry, saying something about it being enough. Was he talking about the killings? Or were they arguing about what to do with her, how to kill her?
The voices stopped and the doorknob turned. She stood up, at the same time pulling her pants up. Joshua was there, telling her to follow him. Moments later, she was standing in front of Quinton Macy. She saw that he had a chain in his hands, probably the same chain that had been used to restrain him at Halgen. He came over, wrapping it around her wrists, and locking it in place.
He was so close now that she could smell his rank breath as he spoke. “Let’s go for a little stroll on the beach, Ellen.” He tugged on the chain, pulling her over to the door, but stopped there. His amber eyes fixed on her, unblinking. “Same rules. Absolute silence and cooperation or…” the smile returned, “…you know.”
As they walked, Ellen was consumed with fear, her heart rattling in her chest like a spoon drumming on a kettle. She fought the panic that threatened to overwhelm her when they got to the beach. They were alone, the only sound the breaking of waves in the distance. Macy tugged on her chain, stopping her. She glanced at him, then lowered her eyes. She didn’t want to look into the face of the insane killer that had mutilated her husband and now controlled her destiny.
“I would imagine by now you’re wondering why I’m doing this.”
Her captor’s words were low, but, for the moment, seemed less threatening.
“Yes,” she managed, still not looking at him.
“Do you remember when we first met and I asked you a question?”
She nodded. Eyes downcast.
“It was about time. What is time?” When she didn’t answer, Macy said, “You’re going to have to do better than this. I expect your full attention and cooperation.”
She took a breath and met his amber eyes. They glowed in the darkness, like a predatory animal caught in the moonlight. She cleared her throat. “I said that time is a point…I think I said it’s when an event takes place that we…we measure other events by.”
“Very good.” He tugged on her chain and they walked slowly along the shore again. “My response was that death marks a point in time, and it is death that we’re all waiting for.” He stopped, forcing her to do the same. He then waited until she looked at him. “Do you think I’m a monster?”
She took in a breath, knowing he expected an honest answer. “Yes.”
He chuckled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” His gaze moved over to the breaking waves beneath the moon and stars. “The real monster is death, Ellen. We are each born into a world where the bloodthirsty beast inexorably descends upon us, minute by minute, hour by hour. It comes in many forms. It can find us in the metastasis of cancer cells that march into our brains like ruthless soldiers, replacing personality and memory, and extinguishing the light with its dark, heartless hand. For some of us it comes in the inglorious explosion of a heart that is worn down by the degradations of the world until it explodes in our chest.” His eyes remained fixed on her. “Death is our constant visitor, one that measures every fleeting glimpse of happiness against the scythe that will fall in perfect cadence until it marks the end of our existence.”
He paused, his gaze moving off again. “The difference, Ellen, is that I have turned the tables on the beast. I am the one that chases down the real monster and shows its face to the world.”
Ellen knew that Quinton Macy was insane, but in that moment she understood how truly deranged he was. This was intellect and reason trapped in a madness that was determined to carry out its own insane plans, without regard of the cost to anyone who got in its way. If there truly were monsters born into this world, Quinton Macy was the apex predato
r.
“Do you smell that?”
His words surprise her. “I’m sorry?”
“The smell of the sea.” He turned to her with his now familiar thin smile. “It’s a unique combination; a diverse mix of chemical interactions, a boiling caldron where the drama of food, sex, and death plays itself out day by day.”
She surprised herself by finding the courage to say, “What are you going to do next?”
His amber eyes blinked, then fixed on her. “I’m sure you don’t understand this, but you’re an extremely lucky woman. You’ve been chosen to be a part of one of the greatest spectacles ever seen. You’re going to have a front row seat as I show the world that anyone can be turned into a killer.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
We all felt the need to wind down after our day and stopped at a restaurant for a late dinner. I then got home around nine and, as usual, my friends caught me trying to sneak home.
“Kate, get over here,” Natalie said, opening her front door. “You gotta see this.”
I stopped in front of her porch with Bernie. She was wearing a man’s suit, had on a fake moustache, and was carrying a briefcase. “What’s going on?”
“We got us a rehearsal for the Judge Rita show. Mo’s playing the part of the judge.”
Curiosity overcame my exhaustion and I followed her inside. A moment later, I burst out laughing when I saw what was happening. Mo was sitting behind a makeshift judge’s bench, wearing a powdered wig and a black robe. She’d elevated her chair with several books and was pounding a gavel on the table in front of her.
“Order in this court,” Mo said, glaring at me. She turned to Hermes Krump, who was wearing a dark suit, his own powdered wig, and was pacing in front of her makeshift bench. “You may continue, counselor.”
Krump made an effort to lower his squeaky voice. “My clients are innocent, your honor. They have made every effort to comply with the Starlight Code of Ethics. These charges are a sham.”