Mark of the Wiseman (The Wiseman Series Book 1)

by Hightower, R. Caresse

  The SUV drove away.

  “I can’t go back to that campus. They’ll hang me if they see me.”

  “Relax. You’ll stay in the car. We’ll bring William to you. Then you tell him we have his kid and he better cough up Soto’s cash.”

  Dr. Chang stared at the back of Sledge’s headrest. How would William react when he saw him? What would he say?

  His eyelids felt heavy and it became an effort just to blink. He poked at his leg again, rested his head on the window, and watched rain clouds drift across the sky, swirling and morphing into different shapes.

  Armstrong answered a phone call. He listened for a few seconds and hung up, saying, “They’re at the house. Let’s hit it.”

  Sledge started the engine. “William’s supposed to be giving a lecture in Wilson Hall. Where’s that?”

  Dr. Chang had settled into a slouch and had to push himself upright. They were on campus already? “Take a right. Slow down when you get to the clock tower.”

  Sledge turned and Dr. Chang peered into the faculty parking lot. There it was. William’s car parked in its reserved spot, backed in like always.

  He slouched back down. The windows were tinted, but Dr. Chang still felt like people could see in. Dean Waters had assassinated his character at a press conference three years ago and no one from the school had said anything good about him since.

  He directed Sledge to Wilson Hall. “There’s a lecture hall before you get to the labs on the third floor. Try there.”

  Armstrong tucked a gun into his waistband as he got out. “I’ll bring the good doctor back here and you two can have your little chat.”

  “How are you going to get him to the car?” Dr. Chang pointed to the gun. “You can’t use that. Weapons aren’t permitted on campus.”

  “Look at you, following rules.” Armstrong laughed. “Let me handle this, okay, cupcake?”

  Dr. Chang watched him walk into the building. “I’m serious. If someone catches him with that thing, I might get in trouble… if they find out we know each other. I can’t go back to prison. Can’t you tell him that he’s?”

  Sledge turned up the radio until Dr. Chang’s voice was drowned out. Dr. Chang cursed and tapped Sledge on the shoulder. Sledge grabbed his wrist and twisted hard.

  “Ow-ow-ow-ow!”

  Sledge let go and turned down the radio. “Bitch! Who said you could touch me?”

  Dr. Chang snatched his hand back. “I just wanted to know if you had a bottle of water.”

  Sledge turned in his seat. “Do I look like I have a bottle of water?”

  “But my mouth…” Dr. Chang smacked his lips. “It’s like my tongue is made out of cotton.” Smack, smack.

  “I told Armstrong not to give you that shit,” Sledge mumbled.

  Dr. Chang sat back and listened to the CD Sledge put in. Rain started pelting the roof of the car. “Should it be taking him this long?”

  “I’m not going to keep telling you to be quiet,” Sledge said. “The next time you say something”

  Dr. Chang heard an explosion and cringed. He looked at Wilson Hall. The front doors burst open and a deluge of screaming students cascaded down the stairs. Sledge straightened up and grabbed the steering wheel. He squinted at the side of the building and Dr. Chang followed his gaze. Armstrong stumbled out of the side door, stuffing the gun back into his waistband. He rushed inside the car, his face and clothes smudged with something black. “Drive!”

  The tires squealed as Sledge navigated through a crowd of frantic people. Dr. Chang craned his neck to look out the back window. A plume of smoke was rising in the rain and the back of Wilson Hall was ablaze.

  “What happened?” Sledge asked, making a hard right through a grassy area and jumping the curb to get back onto the main road. A car honked as he cut off the driver.

  Armstrong was panting. “He ran. I told him to be cool and he took off.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I followed him into one of those labs and he said he was going to call the police.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t have that, so I did what I had to do.”

  Dr. Chang leaned forward. “You shot him?”

  “One of the bullets… the damn thing ricocheted. Look.” There was a flesh wound on the arm with the tattoo.

  Sledge glanced at the gash. “Where’s William?”

  Armstrong shrugged. “I pulled the trigger, and the next thing I know, the whole room is getting blown to hell.”

  “You shot a gun in a chemistry lab,” Dr. Chang said. “What did you expect?”

  Sledge ignored him. “Where did he go?”

  “The explosion blew me out into the hall. I mean, the whole room was just a huge ball of fire. He was still inside.”

  “Call Soto,” Sledge said.

  Dr. Chang looked back again, watching until he couldn’t see the smoke anymore. Sirens wailed in the distance. He looked at the oozing blood on Armstrong’s bicep.

  “Is he dead?” Dr. Chang asked.

  Armstrong’s jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth and dialed Soto.

  “Armstrong… is William dead?”

  Iris was singing to the twins in the nursery when she heard Eve scream. She had just put Ella in her crib and was about to put Langston in his. Still holding him, she poked her head into the hallway. “Mrs. Wiseman? Are you okay?” Eve didn’t answer. “Mrs. Wiseman? Agnes?”

  Iris closed the nursery door and quickly walked downstairs. “Mrs. Wiseman?”

  She tried not to jostle Langston too much as she jogged to the master suite. When she knocked on the door, it swung open and she walked in. “Hello?”

  Langston pointed behind Iris and said, “Rise and shine, Mommy.”

  Iris turned around and screamed. Eve’s body was behind the door. Her eyes were still open, a bullet hole in her forehead. Her clothes and hair were disheveled as if she’d been in a struggle.

  Iris searched the room. “Garvey! Billie!”

  She dropped to her knees and looked under the bed. When she didn’t find them, she checked William and Eve’s closets and the bathroom. She ran back upstairs to find the nursery door open. Ella’s crib was empty.

  “No!”

  Iris started to cry, which made Langston cry. She went to her room and dug in the nightstand drawer until she found Agent Roswell’s number.

  “Jake! It is Iris. Please come to the house! Mrs. Wiseman is dead. I cannot find the children.”

  “Dead?”

  “Shot in the head.”

  “Get out of the house. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Iris threw the phone down, grabbed a folded blanket from the foot of her bed and ran.

  “Billie! Garvey!” she yelled on her way out. She looked in every room she ran past, both hoping for a glimpse of the children and terrified she’d run into the intruder. “Billie!”

  She ran outside, slipped and fell on the wet porch, but never lost her grip on Langston. He cried harder.

  “Shhh, it is okay,” Iris whispered as she got up. She staggered down the porch stairs, using the blanket to shield Langston from the rain. She stood underneath a large oak in the middle of the lawn, trembling. She kept looking at the house to see if anyone came out, then at the private drive for flashing lights or police cars. “It is okay, Langston. Everything is okay.”

  Iris pressed her back against the tree trunk and slid down until she was sitting in fresh mulch. Images of Eve’s body flashed through her mind and she broke down, sobbing. It felt like an eternity before she heard the sirens. A procession of police cars snaked through the trees. Iris ran to one as it came to a stop.

  “I do not know where they are!” she shouted. “The children are missing and she is dead!”

  “Did you see anyone?” the officer asked. “Are they still in the house?”

  Iris shook her head. “I do not know. I did not see anyone.”

  The officer tried to calm her as other officers entered the house. “Let’s get you out of the rain. Come sit in my ca
r.”

  Iris got in and patted Langston’s back.

  “Who’s missing?”

  “Three children.” Iris gave descriptions of Garvey, Billie, and Ella.

  “Anyone else?”

  “The housekeeper should be in there somewhere. Agnes.”

  Headlights flashed in the car and Iris looked up. A man got out of a dark sedan. Though his umbrella shielded his face, Iris recognized Agent Roswell’s gait. She opened the door and flagged him down.

  “Jake!”

  He came over. “Are you hurt?”

  “I fell, but I am okay.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “I was with the babies in the nursery and I heard Mrs. Wiseman scream. I left Ella in her crib,” Iris wiped her cheek, “and went to check on her. She was… she was… on the floor. Shot in the head. The two oldest children were supposed to be with her, but I could not find them.” She sniffed. “I should call Dr. Wiseman.”

  “No. Stay here.” Agent Roswell closed the door, shutting her in the car, and huddled with the police captain.

  Langston rested his head on Iris’s shoulder and she continued to pat his back. She squinted to see through the wet windshield. An officer was walking out of the house, carrying something.

  “Billie!” Iris yelled, getting out of the car.

  The officer handed Billie to Iris. Another officer arrived with Garvey.

  Iris hugged all of the children. “Did you find Ella?”

  “Not yet,” the officer said.

  “Where were these two?”

  “They were in the clothes hamper in a bathroom. Looks like she hid them.”

  Iris looked at Billie and Garvey. Their cheeks were streaked with dried tears. Garvey had wet himself. She used a corner of the damp blanket to wipe their faces.

  Agent Roswell returned. “There’s been an accident at the school.”

  “What accident?” Iris asked.

  “Some sort of explosion. We can’t get in contact with Dr. Wiseman.”

  Iris felt sick.

  “We need to go,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “Downtown.”

  Iris sat at the police station for over two hours, attempting to answer question after question, most for which she had no answer. Agent Roswell stepped out of the room. Iris checked on Garvey and Billie who were asleep in a tangle on a worn armchair. She held Langston, who was fighting sleep and getting fussy. She rocked back and forth, patting his back. Agent Roswell looked grave when he returned.

  Iris swallowed. “Did you find Ella?”

  Agent Roswell sat and shook his head. He looked exhausted. “They found Agnes.”

  Iris’s eyes burned as tears welled up. “Is she…?”

  He sighed. “It looks like she tried to call the police. They found her body in the linen closet, still holding the phone.”

  Iris hugged Langston, closed her eyes, and pressed her cheek against his head.

  Agent Roswell glanced at Garvey and Billie. “Listen, Iris. Dr. Chang was released this morning.”

  Iris gasped. Langston tensed in her arms and she tried, unsuccessfully, to relax. “I thought you said he’d be in prison for a long time.”

  “I wasn’t notified beforehand. We’re still trying to figure this out.”

  “Where is he? Where is Ella?”

  “We’re looking for her.”

  “Try harder! She cannot be out there without me.”

  “We’ll find her.” The chair scraped across the floor when he stood. He squatted next to her and lowered his voice. “The kids need to go into foster care.”

  Iris reared back and shook her head.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, but a social worker is on the way.”

  Iris sprang out of the chair and backed up to the armchair, still shaking her head.

  “Calm down.”

  She pressed her back against the wall, grabbed the back of Billie’s jumper and squeezed the denim tightly in her fist. Billie lifted her head.

  “Just breathe, Iris.”

  She couldn’t. Her lungs burned. Her knees were weak. “Fost… fost…” She slid down the wall slowly, pressing Langston to her chest. She sat on the floor hard, her arm still dangling painfully over the armrest, holding onto Billie.

  “Why?” she croaked.

  “You and the kids need to be in a secure location.”

  “Why can’t they stay with me?”

  “Where would you take them? You can’t go back to the house.”

  Her tears were warm on her cheek. Memories flooded her mind. Her aunt coming at her with a hot kettle. Walking to the rice fields at dawn. The first time she saw William walk down Dr. Chang’s basement stairs. Eating cotton candy at the fair with the children. The talks she and Agnes had after the rest of the family had gone to bed.

  Iris looked at Agent Roswell, pleading, trying to read his shielded expression. “Can we stay with you?”

  “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “But it could, right? Work like that?”

  The word was barely audible, but it hit her like a blow to the gut. “No.”

  “But they are my children too. You cannot do this to our family.”

  “Iris”

  There was a knock on the door and a woman entered. “Agent Roswell?”

  He nodded without looking at her.

  “I’m Michelle. I’ve been assigned to the Wiseman case. Is this a good time?”

  “No,” he indicated the seat Iris had occupied, “but there won’t be a better time.”

  She smiled tentatively at Iris. “You must be Iris.”

  Iris did not speak. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the fact that Jake was not her hero, but just a man getting paid to do a job. She tried to pretend that this stranger wasn’t here to take her familywhat was left of itaway from her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Back at the house, Dr. Chang sat with Fiona and Armstrong. Fiona held the crying baby away from her like a gallon of sour milk.

  Soto walked in. “Still? Why can’t you get her to be quiet?”

  “I don’t know what to do with it,” Fiona snapped. “I don’t even like children.”

  Soto turned to Dr. Chang. “Well?”

  “Well… what?”

  “Looks like the quick and dirty way didn’t work, so you’re coming with us.”

  “Whoa, this is not my fault! Armstrong was the one who blew up the building. Why should I have to take responsibility for that?”

  “I think it’s about time you took responsibility for something,” Soto said. “Before you continue your protest, let me remind you that Fiona is more than happy to persuade you.”

  She already had her gun out. Baby in one hand, weapon in the other. Dr. Chang scowled.

  Sledge walked in. “The pilot says he can get us off the ground before sunrise. We need to get going.”

  “Pack the car,” Soto said. “We’ll be out shortly.”

  Sledge nodded and left.

  “So what about this?” Fiona indicated the baby. “Where are we dropping this off?”

  Dr. Chang looked at Soto. “May I make a request?”

  “What?”

  “Can we take the baby with us? If she’s William’s, I think she may be worth something.”

  “Who else can we demand ransom from?”

  “No, not that. Something else. Something more scientific. I need to get her blood work first. Then I can tell you more.”

  Soto seemed to consider this.

  Fiona frowned. “You’re not really thinking of keeping it! What if it has no value at all?”

  Soto studied the baby. “It’s been a while since there was a baby at the compound. Children do make exceptional pupils. They never have to go through the trouble of unlearning things I don’t want them to know.” He unclasped the silver bracelet from the baby’s wrist and read the engraving. “Ella Wiseman.” He made a face. “I don’t like it.” He was quiet for a few secon
ds. “I’ve always been partial to the name Cleopatra. Do you like it?”

  Dr. Chang, Fiona, and Armstrong spoke in unison. “No.”

  “Well, I do. Cleopatra, it is. I think I’ll call her Cleo for short.” He threw the bracelet in the trash and started toward the door. “Fiona, you’ll help with the child.”

  “Why?” She pointed to Dr. Chang. “He’s the one who wants it.”

  “A little female influence, of course,” Soto said. “That’s enough. Let’s get going.”

  Soto left the room. Armstrong followed, snickering at Fiona.

  She thrust the baby at Dr. Chang. “You’ll pay for this.”

  “I think I already am,” he said under his breath.

  “What?”

  He dropped his gaze. “Nothing.”

  They left the house, piled into the SUV and Sledge pulled out of the driveway.

  Agent Roswell pushed Missy past news reporters and cameramen into the Johnson Civic Center where William Wiseman’s memorial service was being held. Carmen handed him a program after they sat down.

  “Thanks.”

  It had been a tiring week. The funeral services of Eve and Agnes, the injuries of the students at the university, and the kidnapping of Ella Wiseman were on the news non-stop. He’d hardly slept since his last talk with Iris. The tension between Carmen and him had grown even more intense, and he didn’t know what to do about it. If that wasn’t enough, Missy would be starting her first year of college. She’d still be living at home and had always done well in academics, but still, Agent Roswell worried.

  The memorial started with a prayer, followed by celebrity speakers, testimonies from patients who’d benefited from William’s research, and musical selections. A half hour into the ceremony, Agent Roswell’s phone vibrated in his blazer pocket. It was from an unknown number and he ignored it. He ignored a second call. When it buzzed a third time, he excused himself and walked out.

  “Hello?... Yes.”

  Halfway down an empty corridor, Agent Roswell stopped abruptly.

  “I’m sorry, who?... Is this some sort of sickjoke?... No, but that doesn’t mean you’re… I’m not telling you anything until you can prove to me you are who you say you are… Fine. See you at midnight.”