Scott let his bike clatter to the sidewalk as he moved in front of Janis.
23
The astral lines flowing between Janis and the approaching police chief thrummed with potential energy. She eyed the connection to his brain stem. With a single push, she could knock him into next week, but that would mean exposing her powers. Still, she would do whatever she had to.
He has a gun, Scott thought in her head.
Janis’s eyes dropped to the outline of the barely concealed weapon through his jacket.
I’ve got it, Janis replied. And I’ve got him.
A vestige of the fury she used to feel whenever she tapped her powers shuddered through her. After all, Chief McDermott had participated in radioactive experiments on teens. Had murdered an innocent woman, a mother. Lord only knew what he’d been up to since. Janis opened herself to the fury, as she’d been taught in training. Felt it flare up, threatening to consume her, before dissipating like steam.
Now, calm control.
The police chief arrived in front of them, breathing hard. “Been looking everywhere for you,” he said through his mustache. He pushed up his round glasses. “We’ve got a situation over at your beach house.”
Janis turned in time to see the shock hit Scott’s face. “My parents…?”
“They’re fine,” Chief McDermott assured him, showing his palms. His gaze shifted to their crippled bikes. “Why don’t you two jump into the back of my cruiser. I’ll explain everything on the way over.”
He turned as though he’d no doubt they would follow.
It’s a trap, Scott said. He knew we’d come for our bikes, so he slashes our tires and then invents some emergency he needs to rush us to. Oh yeah, and in the back of his cruiser, where we wouldn’t be able to open the doors.
Janis began to nod. But as she watched the police chief, a knot of doubt grew inside her.
I don’t know. The energy around him … it doesn’t feel like an act.
Scott looked from Chief McDermott, who was crossing the street toward the parked police cars, back to Janis. He stooped to retrieve his bike and nodded for her to do the same.
We’ll hedge our bets, then, he said.
“We’re gonna ride back,” he called to the police chief. Without waiting for a response, he threw his leg over his bike’s fork. The tires sloshed against the sidewalk as he began to pedal.
Chief McDermott looked on, his face blank with confusion.
Janis mounted her own ride and followed Scott. It was like trying to pedal through wet sand. As they left the town center, their bikes picked up a little speed. Janis ventured a look back and found the police chief still standing beside his car, making no move to pursue them.
At last his head shook and he walked back to the police station.
When they reached the beach house ten minutes later, Janis’s legs were on fire. Sweat poured from Scott’s hairline. They hadn’t talked, not even to speculate on what the emergency might be. Janis recognized Detective Buckner’s cruiser in the driveway by the numbers on the yellow plate.
“Oh shit,” Scott said.
“What?” Janis asked in alarm.
He almost never swore in front of her. She looked around and then couldn’t believe she had missed it. On the front door of the Spruels’ beach house someone had painted a giant red X.
“Shit,” Janis echoed.
Scott burst into the living room to find his mother laid out on the couch, a folded washcloth over her forehead. Her hands were clasped at her beltline, legs together, the toes of her pumps pointing straight up. For a moment, Scott felt like he had walked into a funeral parlor.
Detective Buckner, who was sitting at the kitchen table with his back to the door, rotated toward Scott and Janis. Paperwork sat on the table between the detective and Scott’s father.
“What in the hell’s going on?” Scott asked.
Detective Buckner opened his mouth, but it was Mrs. Spruel who answered.
“The killer came.” Her voice was faint and faraway and didn’t sound at all like his mother’s. Her eyes remained closed.
“You—you saw him?” Scott asked.
“No, your parents didn’t see anyone,” Detective Buckner said. “They went out for lunch and when they returned, they found the mark on the front door. Whoever put it there was already gone.”
Given his mother’s spent state, Scott could only imagine the hysterics that had ensued. He looked at his father, who nodded back as though to say, Yeah, it was bad.
Why in the world would Mr. Snyder target us? Scott asked.
Maybe he found out we’ve been asking after him, Janis replied, and this is his way of scaring us off?
Scott looked around for J.R. and was relieved to find their toy poodle peeking out from beneath a stuffed chair in the far corner of the living room. He was no doubt recovering from whatever excitement had gone on, but at least his jugulars were intact.
“Was it done in dog blood, too?” Scott asked the detective.
“I’ll send a sample to the lab for analysis, but I can already answer your question. No. It was done in spray paint.”
So not Mr. Snyder, Scott said.
He noticed Janis eyeing the slice of front door they could see from where they were standing.
Yeah, the energy feels normal, she said.
“We think it’s a case of copycatting,” Detective Buckner went on. “And by its looks, it was carried out hastily. Probably by kids. I wouldn’t be surprised if more X’s start popping up on other front doors. Until we catch the perps, though, we’re going to treat it as a threat.”
“We need to leave,” came Mrs. Spruel’s disembodied voice.
“That will be up to your son and Janis.” Detective Buckner leveled his stern gaze at them.
Scott looked over at where the worn bottoms of his mother’s shoes peeked above the couch’s armrest and then back at the detective. The man had only been on the force a few years. Chances were good he knew nothing about the Sunshine Camp or the experiments or the truth behind Mrs. Snyder’s murder. But if Scott shared that information, what would the detective do with it? Pass it on to his boss, most likely. Chief McDermott.
Janis had apparently come to the same conclusion. She counseled silence.
Detective Buckner held up a sheet of paper. “I was just going over this with Mr. Spruel. I’ve obtained a judge’s order for you to remain in our jurisdiction until you’ve met with me.” He redirected his voice to the Spruels. “Now, you’re welcome to stay anywhere else in Murder Creek if that would make you feel safer. There’s a hotel with plenty of vacancies. If you choose to remain here at the house, we can probably station a patrol car for some extra security.”
Scott’s father scratched his goatee in thought. Scott’s mom remained uncharacteristically quiet.
Still can’t tell if he wants more information on the Fields murder, Janis said, or if he wants that information suppressed.
Scott nodded. It was an important distinction.
“In any case, the judge’s order is good for twenty-four hours. I can extend it if need be, but I’m hoping that won’t be necessary.” Replacing his hat, Detective Buckner stood and turned toward Scott and Janis. “You can stop by the station anytime. I plan to be there until late tonight.”
As Scott stood aside to let him pass, he wondered why the detective had enunciated those last two words.
A blue-gray dusk showed through the window when Janis awoke from her nap. She swung her legs off the bed and stretched her arms up and back, surprised she’d slept at all. The day’s events and revelations—one right after another—had ricocheted through her sleep-deprived head as it tried to recharge.
She looked at the depression in her pillow, considering how the next time it held her head, the fates of two people—Mr. Snyder and Chief McDermott—would have been decided.
The justness of those fates would depend on her and Scott, though.
Yep, so much for a vacation, she thought wi
th a harsh laugh. The enviable life of a superhero.
A soft rapping sounded on her door, opening it a crack. “You awake?” Scott asked.
Janis clicked on the bedside light. “Yeah, come on in.”
He pushed the door the rest of the way open and plodded into the room. The hair on one side of his head was mussed, and he finger-combed it to little effect. He took a seat at the room’s small wooden desk.
“Should we be worried about the…?” He drew an X in the air.
“I was thinking about that before I dropped off. Whoever cut the telephone wires at Dr. Fields’s office, and presumably took the files, also slashed our bike tires and painted your parents’ door.”
“David’s outside contact?”
“The person doesn’t leave an energy fingerprint, like Snyder does, but I can still feel his intent. And that intent is self-preservation—at all costs. David’s intent is a little different. He wants the killer to strike again because that will mean his release, sure, but there was no reason for him to have his and the others’ medical records removed from Fields’s office. I think that eliminates their contact.”
“And leaves Chief McDermott.”
Janis read the worry on his face. “Are you thinking about your parents?”
“Having one of McDermott’s patrolmen here doesn’t exactly reassure me.”
Janis stood and peeked out the window. “The car’s already here. We just need to make sure he sees us leaving tonight. He’ll radio that info to McDermott, I’m sure, which will draw the police chief’s focus away from your parents’ house. They’ll be okay. It’s us he’s after.”
Janis took the Murder Creek map from her bedside stand and spread it on the desk in front of Scott. They had discussed their strategy in general terms before heading off to their naps.
She took a black felt pen from a desk drawer and marked the corner of the map to make sure it worked. “All right, we’re here,” she drew a dot on Beach Drive. “And you said Chief McDermott’s house was…”
“Here,” Scott said, using a fingernail to indicate a short north-south street on Murder Creek’s north end. The map beyond the street was shaded green. “Right side of the cul-de-sac.”
Janis made an “X” where his nail had been, then consulted the distance marker. “That’s a little more than two miles from here.”
“With nonworking bikes,” Scott said glumly.
“I was actually thinking we’d go off road.” With the pen, she tapped a line from the Spruels’ house, up Beach Drive, and then through a green-shaded area that extended east of downtown. “We’ll have to cross a few roads, but we’ll remain in the woods for most of that distance. That will make it harder for anyone to follow us. Especially in a police cruiser.”
“Where would we come out?”
“We won’t,” Janis said. “We talked about Mr. Snyder arriving from the deeper woods, somewhere back here?” She patted an area that went from green to the deep green of a state forest. “That means our intercept point will be somewhere along this arc.” She drew it with the pen.
Scott leaned over the map. “Looks like a safe distance from McDermott’s house.”
“Right, and we’ll be positioned at the arc’s midpoint. I’ll set up a psychic perimeter, as large as I can make it. The second Mr. Snyder steps inside it, I’ll know. We’ll intercept him before he’s even aware we’re there.”
Scott nodded at the plan, but Janis could tell he was still stressing over the idea that his laser and picking tools were locked inside Detective Buckner’s office. He was even plotting how he might retrieve them.
“Forget it,” Janis said. “We won’t need them.”
“And if we do?”
Janis began to shake her head but stopped. Given their past misadventures, it was a fair question.
“You have other assets,” she reminded him. “Your most powerful one right in here.”
She pulled his mussed head toward her and planted a kiss against his brow.
When they separated, Scott smiled crookedly.
Janis said, “Now why not start using that head of yours and work out the most probable alternate scenarios and what our contingency plans will be. I need to go through my focusing sequences.” She checked her watch. “Let’s give ourselves an hour. We’ll head out at seven.”
Scott tapped his temple. “The brain and I are on it.”
24
Those house lights are on Jay Street, Janis said. We’re too close. We need to push further east.
Scott followed her pointed finger to the left, where distant lights winked through the foliage. I was thinking the same thing, he replied, having no idea where they were. A waning moon coupled with cloud cover had rendered the woods dark and disorienting. Good thing Janis had her perceptual abilities to guide them, he thought. Scott hiked up his spare pack and followed her silhouette.
Twenty minutes later, a road appeared through the trees. Scott began to pull the map from his pocket, but Janis rested a hand against his forearm. He could just make out the whites of her eyes.
“It’s Barnacle Drive,” she whispered. “Chief McDermott’s street is down that way. He’s home. If we cross here and go another two, three hundred yards we should be right in the middle of that arc.”
They crept to the roadside, midway between two streetlights. One of the lights began to blur as Scott looked on it. Then he realized it was he and Janis who were blurring. She was concealing them again.
“Let’s go,” she whispered.
On the far side of the road, the woods were even thicker. Janis seemed to pick their route more carefully. The undergrowth pulled at Scott’s pant legs and snagged his shoelaces.
Sure you’re going to be able to feel him coming in all this growth? he asked her.
I have his energy signature committed to memory, she assured him. He’ll stick out like an ochre-colored thumb.
At length, Janis stopped where the trees separated enough for them to breathe. Scott moved up beside her.
“This feels right,” she whispered. “We’re where we need to be.”
Scott illuminated his watch face. They had made decent time, considering. It was just shy of nine, and Janis didn’t feel Mr. Snyder would move until he could be certain Chief McDermott was sleeping.
“Shall we park?” Scott asked, removing his backpack and sitting cross-legged.
Janis lowered herself opposite him. She was silent for several moments, setting up the psychic perimeter, Scott guessed. An insect choir rose and fell in the surrounding saw palmettos. At last Janis shifted her weight forward and tugged on one of the straps of his pack, which was in his lap.
“Ready to show and tell what you brought?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, while you were doing your focusing sequences, I got to thinking more about Mr. Snyder’s abilities. You know, how he gets in and out of houses without a trace, how he incapacitates people.”
“We’re not back to vampires and ghosts, are we?”
“No, no.” Scott chuckled nervously. In hindsight he could see that they had been alarmist ideas, poorly thought out. He just hoped what he was about to share with Janis would hold up better under scrutiny. “All right, so you know about my obsession with X-Men comics.”
“I believe you’ve mentioned it.” Scott heard a smile in her voice.
“Well, there’s this one member of their team who joined in issue one thirty-eight. She has the ability to pass through solid objects. It has something to do with her cellular makeup.”
“Scott…”
“Wait, just hear me out. She can also scramble electronics and people’s thoughts, simply by passing through them. Now, let’s think about that. Solid objects aren’t truly solid, are they? They’re matrices of atoms. On closer inspection, they’re pure energy, right? It’s what you perceive in your astral state. For a solid object to pass through another … that would require the atoms of that object—its energy—to move through the interstices of the other’s energy. Think
about the disruptions that would cause. Over my sliding glass door, you said the energy looked spent. Oh, and that’s something else—glass. I think that’s his preferred medium for passing in and out of houses because he can see where he’s going.”
“What about the dogs?” Janis asked.
“I honestly think they surprised him. I don’t know the story on the first dog, the fox terrier, but we heard the owners of the husky say they had just gotten him. Maybe Mr. Snyder had cased the house the week before, deemed it safe for a break-in. When Mr. Snyder started to climb the stairs, the dog surprised him, leaped at him, maybe. Mr. Snyder spread his atoms and the dog passed through him, getting his cerebral circuitry fried in the process.”
“Scott, he cut the dog’s throat.”
“Given what we’ve learned about Mr. Snyder, I’m betting it was a mercy killing. Both of them. The dogs were brain dead. Mr. Snyder could have stomped them, but he snipped their jugulars, probably something he learned in his slaughterhouse work. He collected the blood to prevent the owners from coming home to a mess. I think it was only later that Mr. Snyder decided to use the blood on Dr. Fields’s door. It’s his vigilante mark, sort of like the Z for Zorro.”
Janis was silent. Scott could feel her weighing the merits of his theory.
“And the thing with Jasper,” he added, remembering the last piece. “Mr. Snyder had been on the run for so long, he probably lashed out when Jasper opened the tent flap, to avoid being seen. He could have killed Jasper—instead, he broke camp and fled deeper into the woods.”
“Well, I have to admit,” Janis said at length. “The theory covers a lot of ground.”
Scott hurried to unzip his pack while he still had her. “So, here’s what I’ve brought. Mind you, I could only assemble what was on hand. Fortunately, my dad’s accumulated a lot of stuff over the years.”
Scott pulled the bulky system of cylinders and tubes from his pack.
“What is it?”
He took her hand and placed them on the largest cylinder. “This is a fire extinguisher.” He moved her hand to the nozzle, where a tube protruded like an elephant’s trunk.
XGeneration (Book 5): Cry Little Sister Page 17