Extreme Liquidation: Caitlin Diggs Series #2

by Gary Starta

  As the first guard toppled back upon her, she screamed once again for Cynthia’s assistance. The balding dome of the fat man huffing and puffing above her blocked her view of the counter and reality. Cynthia and her magical bottle of Vices had taken the opportunity to vanish into thin air, along with Agent Rivers’s dream of tranquility.

  Chapter 24

  Three knocks produced no answer. Capt. Marcotte screamed one final time, engaging his face close to the apartment door. “Washington PD, open up!” A few seconds elapsed as Marcotte and Agent Diggs silently eyed each other. Their minds entertained two possibilities, as if telepathically linked. Either Cynthia Willis was not in her residence, or the department store clerk had a lot more to fear than the karate-kicking Halle Berry look-a-like who had smashed her counter display to smithereens a few hours earlier. DC Police Captain Kenneth Marcotte now had to entertain the notion that Cynthia Willis had infected Rivers with a drug as Agent Diggs had attested to at precinct headquarters. He had wanted to believe Willis ran from fear, that she had simply freaked out in response to Agent Rivers’s bizarre behavior and abandoned her job for safety’s sake.

  Marcotte glanced at Lieutenant Amanda Orr and then the door. Orr stood a meter to Marcotte’s right. Diggs flanked the captain the equivalent distance to his left. Caitlin removed her pistol from her holster, readying herself for a forced entry. She had no doubt Willis was a suspect, someone who could possibly provide the names of the men she had sought the past two weeks. Capt. Marcotte prepared for the entry with much less conviction, because if he was wrong, the department could very well be facing a lawsuit. Therefore, he willed himself to believe Willis hadn’t fled the scene in reaction to Rivers’s bizarre behavior. But he was still reluctant. Lines formed about the sides of his mouth and along his forehead.

  Orr wore a perturbed expression. It seemed to nag at Marcotte with the same silent skill his wife had employed upon him, two decades running. Marcotte knew she was waiting for his order.

  Seconds later, as if Marcotte were signaling a camera crew for action, the captain gave the three count with his right hand. Orr stepped into the door hard; her foot broke the lock immediately beneath the doorknob. The door creaked open as if it were controlled by an invisible phantom. Orr entered first, Marcotte trailed slightly behind, Agent Diggs in tow. All three held their weapons at the ready, intermittently pointing the guns to the left, to the right, toward a paisley couch directly in front of them that might shield a perpetrator.

  Diggs looped to her right, using Orr and Marcotte as shields. If they weren’t officers of the law, one might think the three were engaged in a game of hopscotch. With her gun hand firmly trained upon the couch, Diggs bounded off the carpeted floor to a vantage point that put her directly adjacent to the loveseat. Nobody home. She finalized her search in a compartmentalized kitchen. The room was vacant as well.

  Orr headed for a bathroom on the left-hand side of the living area. Its door was slightly ajar. Half squatting, half standing, the lieutenant lowered her shoulder into it. A dark blue shower curtain enclosed a circular shaped tub. She ripped the vinyl veil from its metallic rings, finding nothing but soap scum and a few bottles of Pantene.

  Marcotte sighed, but it wasn’t so much in relief that nobody was there to shoot them. If Willis had been home there might not have been a need to break down the door. His mind, focused on the possibility of a lawsuit, consumed his attention until they reached the precinct. Did they have probable cause to break down the door? Would anybody believe Diggs’s suspicion that this woman had drugged Rivers with a psychotropic?

  Diggs knew she would face Marcotte’s wrath when they returned to the station.

  ***

  Marcotte invited Diggs to sit down in his office. She declined. “Please say what’s on your mind, captain.”

  “Haven’t you considered the possibility that your partner simply blew a gasket? I’ve seen it before. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Agent Diggs. I’ve seen the best turn into blithering idiots, spittle flying from their mouth, trying to defend a brutal assault upon a perp, hoping they can justify their over the top behavior in their own minds, because deep down inside them, they know they’ve crossed a boundary. They have let all the crap this job so freely produces to finally remove their last vestige of sanity. I saw the tape of your partner. The store surveillance camera caught it quite clearly. One minute she’s in line. The next she’s shattering a display case like it was made of sugar glass, the kind they use for movie stunts. And by the way, speaking of movies, she looks an awful lot like that chick, what’s her name...”

  “Halle Berry.”

  He snapped his fingers. “Yep, that’s the one. Well, she did a pretty good job on those two store security guards, albeit they were much too portly and rotund to be considered DC’s finest.” He cleared his throat and paced in a circular pattern, reminiscent of a cat in a cage, hands on hips. “So, like I said before, Agent Diggs, maybe this Cynthia Willis bolted for her own safety. Now, I’ve done all that you’ve asked. I permitted a blood sample to be taken from Agent Rivers to ascertain whether she was infected with some sort of psychotropic drug. A test, I may remind you, that will most likely prove nothing at all. You said it yourself, Diggs, this alleged drug appears only as alcohol. I’m no scientist now but doesn’t perfume contain alcohol? Aside from that, there’s the possibility of abuse. How tightly wound was your partner anyway?”

  “She wasn’t drinking, captain. She was with me prior to the incident. She is a woman of strong character and conscience. So let’s stop wasting time. You know this attack was launched by the same people behind Fort Belvoir, the Salinger suicide case and the Jeremy Jacobsen debacle.”

  “I haven’t read a single news publication that can connect what you’re saying with facts. So far, it’s all theory. Now if you believe in this connection so much, why aren’t you... Why isn’t the FBI making this theory public?”

  “If I connect these events in the press, I will be forced to acknowledge that somehow, someway, someone was able to manipulate people in high power with drugs. I can’t risk elevating panic, sir. It’s what the perps would want us to do. They want us to admit control has been lost.”

  Marcotte stared ahead.

  “So what you’re telling me, Agent Diggs, is that things are out of control.”

  “Yes they are, captain, and you and everyone who wears a uniform is a target . It seems any official entrusted with the protection of American citizens is susceptible. As a consequence, we need unification. We don’t need to crucify our fellow officers.”

  Diggs glared at Marcotte, expecting a smart-ass comeback.

  A look of solemn understanding enveloped Marcotte instead. He was a cop at heart. He respected the unwritten code uniformed officers lived by. He had to admit he wouldn’t have been so quick to pin blame on Rivers if she were a member of his precinct. He would have examined every theory, no matter how flimsy, before pronouncing judgment. He would have watched out for a fellow officer. Reevaluating the situation, Marcotte not only refrained from further argument with Diggs, he even offered assistance.

  “What can my department do to defend us, agent?”

  “We need to expose the perps. I think what they did to Agent Rivers was designed for distraction.” She paused for a moment, recalling her dream vision of Crowley. She desperately clung to the notion that Crowley’s presence was nothing more than a dream, a distraction. Because if it was a vision, then that would validate his existence or at least his ability to contaminate the world of the living. And if this were true, it might also mean she would one day hold the fate of humanity in her hands. Was she really a powerful priestess capable of opening the portal to Heaven?

  The weight of Marcotte’s stare broke Diggs’s trance.

  “Yes, captain. I was recalling what Agent Rivers told me.” Diggs lied to save face. She had been caught daydreaming. “She told me she originally wanted to purchase the perfume three days ago, but that the counterwoman discouraged
her. I think I know the reason why. She needed time to contaminate the perfume.”

  “Where is this going, Agent Diggs?”

  “Can you spare a detective or two?”

  Marcotte nodded.

  “I believe the water delivered to Fort Belvoir must have been previously contaminated as well. Think about it. The cases were shrink-wrapped. The killer would have had no time to taint over a hundred bottles of water, restore them in their original packaging and kill a deliveryman, all in the span of a half hour. The water must have been purchased from a local store. I believe the perps most likely laced the water prior to transporting the affected bottles onto the delivery truck. If that purchase was made electronically, with either a credit or debit card, we might find out who our killer is.”

  “Sounds like a plan, agent. I’ll have our detectives track local deliveries from the water company’s distributor. There is usually a lot number printed on each bottle. It shouldn’t be hard to narrow down all deliveries made in, let’s say, a ten-mile radius. We can always broaden the search later. But my instinct tells me the perp works out of the DC area.”

  “Excuse me for my earlier criticism. You see, I didn’t think cops were capable of using such tools. In fact, I thought the police academy drained every ounce of instinct from their cadets.”

  Marcotte smirked in response to Diggs’s facetious remark. He held his hands in front of him as if he is pleading for her to stop.

  “I had it coming. I know I was hard on you, agent. You know, come to think of it, the fact that Willis did flee the scene does imply some modicum of guilt.”

  “You’re coming around quite nicely, captain.”

  Never one to be upstaged, Marcotte couldn’t resist a parting shot.

  “You know, Agent Diggs, since a Bureau agent is currently incarcerated, it might be advantageous for the FBI to team up with local law enforcement anyway—you know, to make it abundantly clear no favoritism will be given to Agent Rivers.”

  ***

  Diggs made some phone calls prior to making a second visit to Rivers’s jail cell. She alleviated some of Ed Hoyt’s worry by emphasizing Deondra’s arrest was all a big misunderstanding, but she knew things couldn’t be explained away that easily in the bureaucratic world. Dudek confirmed Diggs’s fears, citing that it might be best to keep Rivers in lock up for her own safety.

  “Director Hainsworth won’t be so easily convinced that Rivers was a victim this time, Agent Diggs. This is the second time she’s been tested positive for alcohol in less than two weeks. I can’t simply reinstate her, even if you can convince the store to drop all charges. And lest I remind you, her bizarre behavior has all been captured on video—destroying property, assaulting two men, conspiring to steal. Realistically, I can’t foresee anything but a prolonged suspension for Rivers, and that’s an optimistic view. Caitlin, I know this is all very unfair, but my hands are tied. If I don’t follow Bureau protocol, they’ll fire me.”

  Diggs had to bite her lip. She nearly reprimanded Dudek for behaving like a dog caught with its tail between its legs. She wondered if Dudek ever questioned himself at moments like this. If he couldn’t administer justice, why work in law enforcement?

  Caitlin downed a candy bar and Pepsi purchased from a vending machine. A sugar lift might conceal some of the worry she had caught on her face a few moments earlier. She had retreated to the restroom to compose herself after Dudek’s call. Her concern for Rivers, her ordeal with the tarot cards and the chase for Willis had caught up with her. She couldn’t let Deondra read despair or frustration on her face, though. She had been through enough. And there was no doubt in Diggs’s mind that Rivers was innocent of all charges. Unfortunately, Rivers didn’t readily concur with Diggs’s assumptions.

  “Even if my behavior was coerced, Caitlin, I think that deep down, maybe a small part of me is accountable for my behavior. We don’t excuse a murder because he was under the influence of a controlled substance. Why should I be treated any differently? Maybe it shows my will is not as strong as it once was, and if so, then you and I both know I’m not fit for duty.”

  “You know you’re not being fair to yourself, Deondra. You’re human and because of that you’re fallible. We all are. Someone wrongfully took advantage of that fact. Believe me, they’re the ones who are going to be held accountable for all of this.”

  “And how do you plan on making whoever these people are accountable? Last time I checked, we didn’t have a single lead.”

  Diggs retrieved a sealed bag from her coat pocket.

  “This is headed for the FBI evidence locker.” Diggs held up a small remnant of a gold chain. “The DC crime scene team found it at the very back of the delivery truck. It may have been pulled off our suspect in a struggle.”

  “And it also may have been pulled off our dead water delivery man.”

  “You’ve got to start seeing the glass as half full, my friend. You’ve got an arraignment set for nine thirty tomorrow morning. They’ll set bail. I’ll have you out of here by noontime tomorrow.”

  “But what good will I be without a badge or gun?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why, you’re a person of high character, Deondra. The perps could not tarnish your reputation with mere trickery, not in my eyes anyway. Unless they can invent some drug that gives character, the people who hurt you will never stand at your level. You’ll always be better. You’ll always be you, a woman of conviction, badge or no badge.”

  “Thanks .”

  “Don’t thank me . It’s the truth.” Caitlin laughed. Deondra’s face contorted with confusion.

  “What is it, Caitlin ?”

  “I can recall a few times when your conviction was like a thorn in my side.”

  Diggs left the building hoping some of her pep talk might reinvigorate her spirit. Truth was, she was still feeling half guilty about delving into the Crowley Tarot deck. Contrarily, the other half of her longed for further exposure. She chided herself for this duality during the drive home.

  That night, Diggs made an admission to herself. Yes, she needed assistance with the investigation. Both the water purchase and the gold chain remnant were long shots when it came to exposing the perps. Additionally, time was still not on the side of investigators. Caitlin still believed the perps were about to engage their plans for the ultimate attack upon America’s leaders, and that this would happen sooner, not later. As a consequence, she needed to find out how this would take place, but she willed herself to do it without the aid of sorcery.

  She phoned her friend, Boston detective Stanford Carter. Carter had taught Caitlin about Zen relaxation techniques. She hoped his understanding of Buddhism might find another alternative to uncovering the identities of the robed men. Carter asked about Celeste. Caitlin informed him she was on her way to a cat show. The news pleased Stanford. He impressed upon Caitlin that he wanted his feline friend to enjoy her life as a cat.

  “She may be the world’s only feline detective, Caitlin, but Celeste is still a cat at heart.”

  It made Diggs reflect upon the detective’s decision to announce his engagement with his colleague, Jill Seacrest. She had always feared for Stanford because the man seemed incapable of taking a step back from his work. Now, she breathed a bit easier knowing Stanford had finally acknowledged one of life’s most pleasant distractions. That chain of logic prompted Diggs to reexamine her life. She began to wonder about her changes, how she might one day take control of them, so she too could enjoy a family life or a pleasant distraction every now and then. Diggs fell fast asleep succumbing to the heavy weight of all her thoughts from the day.

  She had now condemned Stanford Carter to enter into a dark void, the place where angry and confused voices spoke, the place in one’s mind that threatens sanity. He had heard the desperation in Caitlin’s voice. A man he and Celeste had helped to incarcerate might be capable of giving Agent Diggs her answers. He briefly weighed the consequ
ences, but for Stanford Carter, there was no turning back. A friend had requested his assistance and that left the Boston detective with one option. He must do whatever it took to help that friend, even if it meant communing with a devil and possibly becoming lost in the void.

  Chapter 25

  Can you still trust your visions?

  The question haunted Agent Diggs. A series of images had jolted her awake. They were not specific, no audio accompanied this new and troubling dream video, yet the succession of events predicted danger.

  President Duncan, a nuclear power plant, a formal dinner.

  Were they nothing more than a few nocturnal flashes—a dream? Or were they a true glimpse of the future—a vision? Diggs could not be sure. She had experienced a false vision previously, one in which Agent Rivers fired a gun on Assistant Director Dudek. She had also been cast as some sort of goddess, telepathically communing with the supposed reincarnation of black magician Aleister Crowley. These reflections gave her pause to doubt her abilities as a medium. Could she distinguish a vision from a mere dream?

  Still unbeknownst to Diggs, the robe and her connection to the Crowley Tarot Deck provided men of magical means to manipulate her brain waves. Without these links, neither Master nor Crowley could alter the cinematographic dreamscapes of Diggs’s alpha state. Diggs’s conscious mind, still somewhat clouded by her addiction to the robe, could not properly classify these psychic intrusions. Consequently, a seed of doubt was left to flourish. It wriggled in gray matter, the way a sprout might take root in soil. The Master, following the orders of his symbiotic Lord, had effectively poisoned Diggs without need for further deception.

  She could not be positive if her vision of a nuclear armament facility represented an immediate and present danger. Therefore, she was left to theorize if a thread from her subconscious world might indeed become tethered to her waking one.