Deadly Visions

by Roy Johansen

  “Well, I—”

  Cal was gone.

  Joe stared at the door for a moment after it swung shut. Typical Dad. The first sign of trouble, and he'd come roaring into town in hero mode. But where in hell was he going at this hour?

  Haddenfield ran to the end of the hallway and blocked Donna and Paul.”What's going on here?”

  Donna shifted her canvas duffel bag from her left shoulder to her right.”We quit.”

  Paul nodded.”Outta here, adios, and farewell, Haddenfield.”

  “You can't do that.”

  Donna jerked her thumb toward the small room where they'd been staking out Monica Gaines's hospital suite. “All your gear is in there. We're finished. If any other jobs come up in the future, please don't bother to call us.”

  Haddenfield held up his hands to stop Donna as she tried to push past him. “Please. Think about this. At least give me time to find replacements for you.”

  She shot him a frosty look. “You already have to find a replacement for Gary. Just look for two more.”

  “Is that what this is about? Gary?”

  Paul nodded. “He could be dead or dying out there.”

  “We looked everywhere.”

  “Not everywhere,” Donna said. “The police could have looked everywhere, but you didn't want to call them. In the meantime, we haven't seen the guy he was tailing since that night.”

  “I told you I was handling it. You are both so important right now. Don't walk out.”

  “It's done,” Donna said.

  Haddenfield's tone grew desperate. “Do you want more money? It can be arranged. Give me a figure and I'll see what I can do.”

  Paul cocked an interested eyebrow, but Donna elbowed him in the chest.”Don't be a whore,” she said.

  Haddenfield leaned closer to him.”I can pay cash.”

  Paul appeared to be thinking about it, but he finally shook his head.”Sorry, Haddenfield. I have a real problem working for assholes. I guess that's something I need to work on.”

  He and Donna moved past Haddenfield and started down the stairs.

  “Shit,” Haddenfield muttered under his breath. He walked back into the stakeout room and kicked the empty containers of Thai takeout from the night before.

  Bastards.

  They could be replaced, of course, but not without attracting even more attention from the higher-ups. They thought he was a world-class screwup already, but it would look worse if it appeared that he couldn't even keep his own team in line.

  No use delaying the inevitable. He picked up his phone and punched the number.

  Monica Gaines's condition was obviously deteriorating. As Joe walked into her hospital room, he was immediately hit with how much worse she looked. He'd heard that her infection was spreading, and her swollen red face had rendered her almost unrecognizable.

  “She's heavily sedated,” the plump nurse whis-pered.”The pain got to be too much.”

  Joe looked at the nurse, wondering if the disposable camera was still in her locker. The little bloodsucker could probably taste her cash already.

  “Is she conscious?” he asked.

  “In and out.”

  Joe walked to Monica's bedside and spoke softly. “Monica, it's Joe Bailey.”

  Her lids fluttered.

  Joe turned back to the nurse.”Thank you.”

  “I really should stay here to make sure she doesn't get too agitated.”

  “I'll come get you if there's a problem.”

  “I'll just stand right back—”

  “Go. Please.”

  The nurse gave him an annoyed glance, but left the room.

  Joe looked down at Monica. Was she smiling? “Monica, can you understand me?”

  She nodded.

  “Monica, you've occasionally disappeared for weeksat a time. Nobody knows where you went. Can you tell me?”

  She whispered something Joe couldn't hear.

  He leaned closer.”What?”

  “The crate …big crate,” she slurred.

  “A crate?”

  She nodded.

  “What does that mean?”

  She closed her eyes. “Hurts so much. Christ almighty.”

  “Tell me about the crate, Monica.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “The crate. Did you take a crate with you? Was there something special in the crate?”

  “I was there.”

  “I don't understand. Explain it to me, Monica.”

  “Can't.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “No.”

  “Monica, if there's something you're not telling me that has some bearing on what happened to you—”

  “No,” she whispered.”Nothing to do with that.”

  “Let me decide.”

  “No.”

  Joe bent closer. “You need to tell me everything, Monica. If you're afraid that I'll expose something about you, maybe that your powers aren't genuine, that's not my focus here.”

  “All I have,” she said.”It's all I have.”

  “What's all you have?”

  “People's …memories of me.” Her voice was weaker.”If I die here, that's all that will be left.”

  “Isn't it more important that we find out who did this?”

  “Don't know who did this …or why.”

  “Maybe I can figure it out. But you have to help me.”

  “Hurts so goddamned much.”

  “Monica? Monica?”

  She was unconscious.

  Damn. He turned around to see the nurse standing in the doorway.

  “I think you'd better go, Detective.”

  “Right.” Joe took the nurse by her arm and led her into the hallway.

  “What's wrong?” she asked.

  He spoke quietly. “I know about the camera and your little get-rich-quick scheme.”

  She feigned innocence.”What?”

  “Don't even try. You gave yourself away the other day. If she dies, you'd better make it your mission to see that not one scum-sucking photographer gets a shot of her body. If I see one tabloid with a shot of her, I'm coming after you.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  “How about I pull some phone records? And should we take a look in your locker?”

  “You need a warrant for that.”

  “I do, but your supervisor doesn't. Shall we talk to her?”

  The nurse's glance sidled.”No.”

  “Good. Because whatever you'd make from that picture, I don't think it would be worth destroying your career. If you do that, I'll make sure you never work as a nurse again. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay. Take good care of her.”

  Joe walked through the hospital's dim lobby, trying to make sense of Monica's ramblings. In her state of mind, “the crate” might have meant anything. Or nothing. There was no way he could—

  “Detective Bailey?”

  Joe turned. It was Raymond Fisher, an FBI agent with whom he'd cooperated on two previous investigations. Fisher's stony face and gruff manner alienated many of his fellow agents, but Joe appreciated his dry wit and forthright manner. “Agent Fisher. Not here as a patient, I hope.”

  “Wish I was. A colonoscopy would be a hell of a lot less annoying.”

  “If you say so.”

  Fisher showed Joe a photo of a curly-haired young man.”Have you seen him around here?”

  “Afraid not. Who is he?”

  “An out-of-towner named Gary Burgess. He's been gone a couple days now and he was last seen around here.”

  “Are you working with my department on this?”

  “No. We've been asked to look into it off the record, so I'd appreciate it if this could stay just between us.”

  “Sure. What's his deal?”

  “I don't know who he is or why they're treating this with kid gloves, and frankly, it pisses me off. I might be able to do my job better with a little more information.”

 
“Do you get this kind of assignment often?”

  “Once in a while.A cabinet member's kid might go on a bender or a senator's favorite prostitute might go on an unauthorized vacation with his stolen credit cards. A few discreet phone calls will be made and it's up to us to quietly clean up their messes. But with those cases at least we know what we're dealing with.”

  Joe studied the photograph.”And you say he disappeared around here?”

  “He was last seen in the hospital.”

  “Hmmm.”Joe studied the photograph. “Keep me posted, will you?”

  “Sure.”

  Joe drove from the hospital to the Monica Gaines's Psychic Worldproduction offices, which occupied a building that had until recently housed the headquarters for a local restaurant chain. In Tess Way-land's cluttered office, he asked her about “the crate” that Monica had mentioned.

  “The crate?”Tess shrugged.”She's probably out of her head. Maybe that's what the hospital brings her orange juice in.”

  “Please think about it,” Joe said. “I'm sure I heard her correctly. 'The crate'has no special meaning for you?”

  “Nope. Sorry.” She turned back toward a small video monitor. “As one of the few who have seen the real thing, Detective, give me your opinion of this.”

  She pressed the play button on her remote, and a grisly, slow-motion re-creation of Monica Gaines's ac-appeared on the screen. The actress impersonating Monica spun around, twisting and screaming as flames engulfed her.

  Joe winced. “You're kidding, right? You're not going to put this on the air.”

  “We will if you won't let us have a copy of the real thing.” Tess froze the image. “What do you think? Should we strip away the color and put a time stamp on screen, to give it that 'security camera'look? It might be more dramatically effective that way.”

  “Do whatever you want, but you're not getting a copy of the real thing. I can't believe that Monica would want you to do this.”

  “If you knew Monica, you'd understand that she'd want me to do anything that would mean higher ratings for her show. Besides, her accident is the topic of every episode we've been doing. We have psychics from all over the world discussing it, and we need a visual frame of reference.”

  “And have any of your psychics come up with a convincing explanation for what happened to her?”

  “Several explanations, in fact. And I'm sure they'll come up with several more.”

  “I'm sure.”

  “What's important is that her show's ratings are higher than ever. When Monica comes back, she'll be at an entirely new level of success.”

  “What if she doesn't come back?”

  “I don't even want to consider that. Monica needs positive energy, not negative.”

  “Fine.”

  “We're a day or so from going public with this, butthere's something I'd like you to comment on, Detective.”

  “What is it?”

  “Have you been getting some kinds of visitations from your late wife?”

  Joe sighed.”Where did you hear that?”

  “True or false?”

  “I've seen no evidence of that. Where did you get your information?”

  “My sources are confidential, but you should know that every cop in your department is talking about it.”

  “I wouldn't make an issue of this,” he said. “In the end, you're only going to look foolish.”

  Tess shrugged. “We take that risk every time Monica makes a prediction.”

  “Don't run with this story. It's nothing, and it'll only make my job more difficult.”

  “Maybe I'll drop it if you'll do something for me.”

  “Like what?”

  “Get me that security tape. This re-creation really blows.”

  “I can't do that, and I'm not knuckling under to blackmail.”

  “If I don't have that tape in hand by five P.M. tomorrow, we're going public with the story about your wife, fingerprints and all.”

  “That's your prerogative.”

  “I'm not bluffing.”Tess jotted something on a Post-it note. “In the spirit of cooperation, I'm giving you this.” She handed it to him.

  He glanced at it. Two phone numbers. “What's this?”

  “The top number is for a cell phone that Monica occasionally used. It was registered to the production company. I get the bill, and I noticed that she used it a couple of times when she'd dropped out of sight. Each time, she called that second number. Maybe it'll help you figure out where she was.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Five P.M. tomorrow, Detective.”

  “Grandpa!” Nikki ran across the apartment and threw her arms around Cal.

  He laughed. “Hiya, pumpkin. Did you actually shrink since the last time I've seen you?”

  “No, I've grown!” She giggled. “You're the one who's shrunk.”

  “Unfortunately, that's probably true.”

  “Not likely. You'll always be bigger than life.” Joe closed the front door.

  “Why did you come?” Nikki asked. “Daddy didn't tell me you were here.”

  “Isn't visiting you enough?”

  “Yeah, but you have the theater to run.” Her eyes widened. “Wait a minute. I know why you're here….”

  Cal placed a finger over her lips.”Shhh. Not now, honey.”

  Joe gazed at them curiously.”What's going on?”

  “It's not important right now,” Cal said. “I think there's something else you need to talk to her about.”

  They were definitely keeping something from him.”Okay, but we're coming back to this. I don't likesecrets.” He sat on the couch and patted the cushion beside him.”Come sit next to me, Nikki.”

  Joe told her about the fingerprints that had been found and their positive match with Angela's. He didn't mention the voice he'd heard in his bedroom. One thing at a time.

  Nikki didn't look surprised. “It was her,” she said quietly.”Mommy was here. Do you believe it now?”

  Joe shook his head. “Honey, those prints could have been faked.”

  “How?”

  “I don't know yet.”

  She turned toward Cal. “What do youthink, Grandpa?”

  “I think you'd better listen to your dad. He knows what he's talking about.”

  She gave them both a despairing glance. “You just don't get it. I heardher!” She jumped up and ran to her room. The door slammed behind her.

  “Should we go after her?” Cal asked.

  It was what Joe wanted to do too. “No. She needs a little time to absorb this. She'll be okay.” God, he hoped he was telling the truth.

  “But how about you, Joe? Will yoube okay?”

  “Okay as I can be, I guess.” Joe looked toward Nikki's closed door. “I never realized how tough it must have been for you, Dad. When Mom died, you had three kids, all in grade school. You must've felt like your world had ended and we could think only of ourselves.”

  Cal shrugged. “Because I had you kids, my world didn'tend.”

  “Yeah. I don't know what I would have done without Nikki.”

  “We should all go out to dinner tonight. There's something I need to discuss with you.”

  “Is that what you and Nikki were conspiring about?”

  Cal stood up, smiling broadly.”Well, I don't know if conspiring'is the word for it. I'll meet you back here around six, okay?”

  “You're going to leave me hanging, aren't you?”

  Cal winked.”Yep.”

  Haddenfield climbed out of his car, wishing he'd insisted on a more populous area for this meeting. He and Dylan stood on a dead-end street near Spelman College, and there wasn't a soul around. Were the students on break?

  “I really don't appreciate this,” Dylan said. He leaned against his rented SUV and took off his sunglasses. “I thought we were going to keep our get-togethers to a minimum.”

  “Where is he?”

  Dylan's expression didn't change.”Where is who?”

  “My team
member. I know you were onto him when he disappeared.”

  “How could I not? He made every mistake in the book.” Dylan chuckled.”I told you I'd be staying close to Monica to make sure she didn't inadvertently give anything away. You said you could control your people.”

  “I wasn't there when he decided to go over. Where is he?”

  “Dead, I'm afraid. I had to neutralize him quickly and quietly, and that was the only way. How was I to know that he was one of yours?”

  Haddenfield closed his eyes. Shit. This couldn't be happening.

  “Don't get squeamish, Haddenfield. Just keep your eyes on the prize.”

  “What the hell are you doing here? Why don't you just leave?”

  “I will when you do. Some people in my government are suspicious as to why you decided to come here. After all, we're offering you far more funding than your government has ever given you.”

  “I know.”

  “Some believe that you're here trying to produce results that will encourage your government to increase your funding. Where would that leave us?”

  “You're wrong. I'm just trying to finish my study.”

  “That's what you told us. Just know that I'm using my time here to do some research of my own. If I find that you're lying to me, that young man won't be your team's last casualty.”

  Joe slipped on his jacket and turned toward Cal. “Okay, Dad, are you going to tell me the big secret?”

  Cal shot a glance at Nikki.

  She smiled eagerly. She'd said little since emerging from her room a half hour before, but her grandfather always had a way of perking up her spirits. “Tell him,” she said.

  “Okay.” Cal shrugged.”I don't know why I've felt sofunny talking about this. It's no big deal, really. Except that it isa big deal, at least to me.”

  Joe wrinkled his brow.”Well?”

  A knock at the door. Nikki walked over, looked through the peephole, and opened it wide.

  Carla stood in the doorway.

  “Carla?” Joe stood and crossed over to her. “Is everything all right? You haven't heard anything else from the crime lab, have you?”

  “Uh, no.” She stammered and looked at Cal. “I—I guess you haven't told him.”

  Cal shook his head.”I was just about to.”

  “Told me what?”Joe glanced between them.

  They didn't answer.

  Instead, Cal joined Carla in the doorway, gently took her hand, and kissed her. He turned back to Joe. “That'swhat.”