Reset

by Kirk Dougal

  Jim’s face appeared in the middle of Rick’s darkening vision. “Swing away,” Rick whispered as the black enveloped him. “Swing away.”

  Chapter 43

  “He used it more like a pool cue than a baseball bat but I’m not complaining,” Jim said as everyone laughed. “My guess is you hit about a buck-twenty when you played Little League, Slugger.”

  Rick joined in with the group but when his right hand twitched, the laughter slowed to an uncomfortable stop. He concentrated on the feeling in his hand as the sensation crawled up his forearm and into his elbow. The tweaks stayed in his muscles, however. The feeling of his skin falling loose and crawling over his body would not start until after his medication faded away. Years since the last time he had gone through withdrawal, the memory of DIOD progression still branded his mind.

  “Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one day,” Dr. Jensen said, waving his hand toward the door. “Let’s give Mr. Dowland a chance to catch his breath after all the excitement of the past couple of days.”

  Captain Preston knocked twice on the bed railing before smiling and heading toward the door with Gonzalez on his heels. Jim had told him earlier that Ted dropped by the precinct house with congratulations from REM and an offer from every sandman in New York to help him out if the DIOD was too much. His partner had grimaced when he relayed the last part. Soon only Jim and the man tasked with wrapping up the investigation, Special Agent Gabe Tower, were left in the nursing home room with the doctor.

  “His next medication is in about twenty minutes, gentlemen,” Dr. Jensen said from the doorway. “I’m sure he would appreciate staying on schedule.” He closed the door behind him as he left.

  “We’ll keep this part of the debriefing as short as possible, Detective Dowland,” Agent Tower said. “My understanding is your medication will keep us from talking to you for several hours. There are just a few things we need to discuss that may help when we are interrogating Miss Talbot.”

  Rick nodded. The pain killers the doctor used to keep his DIOD under control deadened everything, including his ability to hold a coherent conversation. At least he didn’t wake up with a hangover like he did when he used whiskey to accomplish the same result. “It’s okay. There are some things I want to know, too.”

  Tower positioned his bracetech so the camera pointed at Rick. “Okay, Detective Dowland, we are just going to hit some high points today. When you left the game, you said earlier you knew Miss Talbot was the killer known as Raven. What led you to that conclusion?”

  “When we met in Rose’s office—that was Riley Gardener’s avatar name inside The City—Raven said he had wanted to keep me where he could keep track of me. The one person who had been doing that since the start of the investigation was Gwen. She went with me when we met with REM. She helped train me for the new games. She even got close to me,” he paused, thinking about their night together, “just to stay near me even though she hated me. When I went inside The City, my secretary was a NPC and a twin to her. She wanted to know where I was and what I was doing all the time. All my communications to the outside world were through Gwen.”

  Tower nodded and looked down at a notebook. “That seems like a lot to program into the game in a short amount of time.”

  “Not that much,” Rick said. “You see, I think my character was already in the game, but as an NPC. My partner at the detective agency was Tom Wheeler. He was the avatar of one of the earlier victims, Robert Tuttle. I think she had used the secretary avatar before to keep track of Wheeler and later kill him. When she needed an avatar and a spot to drop me into, she used what she already had in place.” Rick shook his head. “The funny thing was the game kept playing out the scenario. Wheeler had disappeared and it kept giving clues to his partner, me, on how to find the killer. She didn’t count on that.”

  “That’s a little bit of a leap, even for you, Rick,” Jim said.

  He shook his head. “Not really. All the little things started to pile up. It took me a while to realize but Rose’s men always knew how to find me. Big C’s men couldn’t do that. Also, when he had a chance to kill me the first time, Raven didn’t finish me off. His men kicked the crap out of me but let me live because as long as I was in the game, Gwen knew where I was at and what I was doing. Then my messages to the home office weren’t being answered. But I’ve got to tell you, I thought at first that maybe Raven had found a way to take control away from Gwen and use Gretchen himself.”

  “What changed your mind?” asked Tower.

  “I didn’t catch it at first, but when the men attacked me in the hall, they mentioned my ex and our honeymoon on the beach. We ran away to get married and all the photos from our honeymoon were locked inside a closet at my place. Gwen had my apartment keys so only she had access to it.

  “Then, when Raven and I were fighting in Rose’s office, he mentioned the beach again and keeping an eye on me. After I killed Raven, I checked his back and there was his, her, ego.” His thoughts went to the tattoo on his back of the Beast. “See, the really good gamers, the ones who win and dominate, they want to be known. A necklace, a signature move, a scar—something to set them apart from everyone else. My ego brag is a huge tattoo on my back of a snarling werewolf and I wore the ink inside the game as well. I had seen Gwen’s back and knew she had a pair of black wings tattooed there. When I checked the Raven in The City, the avatar had the same tattoo, just like she had in Beta Prime. That was the final piece that fell into place for me. But, if you need more, Gardener told me Raven had visited his apartment while he was inside The City and left him a message. Scared him to death. He lived in Philadelphia and Gwen told me earlier she had been assigned to a case in Philly at about the same time.”

  Tower glanced over to Jim who nodded. “Well, that’s all good. We will go into depth with all your actions later so we can put together a strong case for the federal prosecutor but that’s enough for now.”

  “I’ve got a couple of questions, if you don’t mind,” Rick said.

  “After the work you’ve done on this case, and what you were willing to sacrifice,” Tower gestured toward Rick’s hands, “you deserve some answers. Fire away.”

  Rick turned to Jim. “How’d you and Gonzalez know to come running? I never had a chance to leave a second message for Card and the telephone line was dead in my room.”

  Jim snorted. “Yeah, the telephone was disconnected by Talbot about a week ago to keep anyone from disturbing you. The same reason she called off the guard the night she tried to kill you.” He glanced at Tower who gave him a nod. “We got a tip you were in trouble and we’d better get here in a hurry or Raven would kill you first. The woman who called never gave me her name but she said she had been inside The City with you.”

  “Evelyn,” Rick said and let go with a long breath. “Thank god, she’s all right.” The two men looked at each other but remained silent. “She’s okay, right?”

  Tower finally answered. “We don’t know. By the time we traced the call, her body had been moved. She’s a sleeper, Detective, and apparently has been for a long time. As you probably guessed, she is very wealthy and from an influential family.” He reached into his briefcase and made a note. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

  Rick stared at them for a few moments before he turned to the agent. “What about Gardener? Was Gonzalez able to track him down with the IP tag I sent him?”

  “He was also gone by the time we arrived.” Tower shrugged. “But, as it is, the best we could arrest him for right now is exceeding the game time limits. A misdemeanor and fine. The worst that would happen is no legal access company would let him on the system for six months. And…”

  “And someone with his connections will just use a sandman and peeper anyway,” Rick finished, realizing how close the reason for Gardener’s easy escape from legal punishment came to Gwen’s rage over the game companies’ system. “What about Strick?”

  Agent Tower sighed. “Agent Strick was an old-sch
ool investigator. He left all the technical and gaming issues to Talbot while he kept trying to follow the money. He finally caught the trail and discovered the transfers led back to someone inside a government agency. Near as we can tell, he told Talbot and she panicked. She set up the trip to Philly to go after your ex-partner, even said the tip came from REM, but then she killed Strick at the scene so she could shift the blame to Gardener, even though he was already gone, probably using what you were feeding her from the inside as the idea.”

  Rick leaned back and closed his eyes. The growing sensations in his hands were overriding his meds. Besides, all the talk about what had happened in The City reiterated how real the investigation felt. He wondered if he could muster up that kind of feeling about his job in the homicide department on the outside.

  “Detective, if you can stand just a few more minutes, I’d like to talk to you about an opportunity.” Rick opened his eyes and noticed Tower had shut off the bracetech before leaning forward on the edge of his chair. Jim, on the other hand, sat back with his arms crossed and a look on his face like he had just sucked on a lemon.

  “I’ll be all right,” Rick said. He wondered if the two men knew the statement was a lie.

  Tower smiled and nodded. “Dowland, there is the issue of the sixty-two killings within the game that involved the removal of the avatar watches. I won’t lie to you; we were flabbergasted when we discovered that message. Even if we discount the ones we know about in this case, we still have dozens of not only unsolved, but unknown murders that might be linked to the real world.”

  Rick thought he saw where the conversation was headed. All he knew for sure was his heart beat faster and his hands no longer tingled. “Go on.”

  “The powers that be at the FBI have taken a look at this case and decided our investigations need to extend inside the computer games. The administration agrees. I have been ordered to head up the new department. My number one task is to find people who can be our agents in the games, preferably someone with police experience, but definitely people who understand how the games work. You’re the top name on my list, Dowland.”

  “Don’t do it, Rick,” Jim said. “I didn’t understand before what this assignment would do to you. The doc says he can have you back in the precinct house by summer at the latest. You kicked DIOD by yourself before and, with the drugs and what they can do today with their machines, you’ll be back to yourself in no time.”

  “Detective Boulden is correct,” Tower said. “Dr. Jensen does believe you can pull out of this with his help. No one should be asked to go through what I am asking you to do. But I’m still asking. We're so in the dark, we don’t even know how many of these killings were murders. We're at ground zero and I need your help.”

  “It’s too much,” Jim said. “It'll kill him.” He glanced at Rick after the words left his mouth before quickly looking away.

  “We'll take precautions,” Tower said. “You will have round-the-clock medical care as well as full-time guards. Detective Gonzalez could be your liaison inside the games, if you both agree. You will have dedicated teams assigned to you to help on the outside.” He stared at Jim. “I would prefer they were led by someone you knew and trusted.” Tower turned back to Rick. “Dr. Jensen is helping us create a schedule to minimize the effects of the games on your body, three weeks inside followed by one week out, something along those lines.”

  “It’s a crappy offer, Slugger,” Jim said. “Remember, I pushed hard for you to do this to yourself for the case. I had no idea what…” He stared at Rick’s body and then glanced away again.

  Tower grabbed his briefcase and stood while Jim, still muttering under his breath, followed suit. “You don’t need to make up your mind today, Detective. I just want you to know the option exists.”

  The two men were almost to the door when Rick found his voice. “It’s an interesting offer, Agent Tower. I’ll need to think it over.” He stopped talking as his hands shook hard enough to make his bed squeak. Jim gagged as if he might not keep down his lunch. “Would you ask the doc to come in when you leave?”

  *****

  Rick glanced up from a dog-eared copy of Dashiell Hammett’s novel, “The Thin Man,” when Tower walked into the room. The agent had dropped by the nursing home every day to ask questions and check on his progress, but Jim had not returned since the first debriefing. Rick assumed he was busy wrapping up paperwork on the case.

  Every day saw more of Rick’s strength returning and today, less than a week from his emergence from The City, he walked to the cafeteria—with a lot of help from two nurses—to eat his lunch. The goal was for him to be well enough to testify at Gwen’s trial in a few months. If the case went to trial. Her rantings were making an insanity plea appear to be certain.

  He tossed the book on the side table. “I’m sorry, Tower,” he said. “I thought we were taking today off from questions. Did something come up?”

  Tower opened his mouth but then stared out the window for a few seconds. “Yes, Detective, something came up. I’d like to take you for a ride, if you’re willing. Doctor Jensen says it’s okay as long as we take a nurse with us.” He turned to stare at Rick. “It’s important.”

  With the nurse’s help, Rick dressed in a few minutes. More snow had fallen during the night and she bundled him up like the little brother in “A Christmas Story,” barely his nose and eyes peering out from under all the coats, blankets, and scarves. She smiled at him as they strapped his wheelchair into a nursing home van, but then turned away quickly, her eyes wet with tears. After a moment, she climbed into the seat behind Rick and snapped into her seat belt.

  “Tower, what’s going on?” he asked.

  The FBI agent spoke over his shoulder but did not make eye contact. “I want you to see something, Detective. I think you’ll be glad you saw it, too. It will only take us a few minutes to get there.”

  Rick leaned back in the wheelchair and watched the city blocks roll by until the van slowed and turned into a large green space. He was about to ask why they were at the park until the vehicle completed its turn and showed row after row of monuments stretching across the area. “A cemetery?” he asked.

  Tower nodded in reply.

  The van wound its way down stone paths and Rick watched as the vehicle approached a group of people huddled near an oak tree. They stopped and Tower stepped out of the van before opening the door beside Rick. The preacher’s voice carried across the way, words extolling the virtues of a life passed.

  Tower pulled a paper from his coat pocket. “Edna Brookins, age 88, died of complications from an eighteen-year battle with cancer on March 3. She passed with loving members of her family by her side.” Tower put the paper back in his pocket.

  “Who was she?” Rick asked, although he was already afraid of the answer.

  “She was your Evelyn,” the agent said. “Edna was the one who called Detective Boulden and warned him your life was in danger. My understanding is she was able to live as long as she did with the cancer because she stayed in the game for years. Otherwise the pain would have been too much for her to handle. Her granddaughter was with her when she died and told me her last words were about you. She said Edna wouldn’t shut up until the phone call was placed.”

  The ceremony ended and the crowd dispersed, breaking into groups of two and three heading back to warm vehicles. After a few minutes only the cemetery staff remained.

  “Can we go over?” Rick asked.

  The nurse moved the wheelchair onto the ramp and Tower lowered him to the ground. The snow crunched beneath the wheels as the agent pushed him close to the coffin surrounded by flowers.

  Rick stared for several minutes, trying to remember the lines of Evelyn’s face, the touch of her skin, the smell of her perfume. But the memories stayed out of his grasp, distant thoughts of another place, another time, blurred and softened by the medications and the world. He glanced at the gravestone and noticed she was to be buried with her husband, Reginald, who had died de
cades earlier.

  Tower cleared his throat. “Her husband and father were both killed under suspicious circumstances. The rumor was they were being squeezed by a crime family but the authorities were never able to prove it.”

  “Tower, get me out of here.” Rick's voice cracked on the words.

  “Sure, Detective. We’ll go straight back to your room.”

  “No, you don’t understand.” Rick turned in the wheelchair until he stared the agent in the eyes. “I want out of here. I have a promise to keep to someone.”

  INSIDE

  Chapter 44

  Stink hung over the city like a blanket over a corpse, feeding on the body until all that remained were the shadows of dreams.

  Garbage in the streets and the not-so-occasional body washing up near the docks were the smells you knocked off your shoes at the end of the day or chased away with gin you hoped would not leave you blind.

  No, the stink smothering the city, clinging to skin and clothes until you almost drowned in the stench, that was the smell of corruption.

  I walked through it when I could, dog-paddled through the muck when I had to, and dove down through its black depths when that was all there was left to do, emerging from the filth smelling just like the garbage I hated so much.

  I did it with the hope of one clean breath of air.

  I did it because I loved the city.

  The City.

  My city.

  *****

  I walked out the front door of the men’s clothing shop below Rose’s office. The stars were covered by clouds and the air thick with humidity. I tapped a Lucky free from the pack and lit it, the smoke hanging close to my face, clinging to me the way I wanted to stay close to the city.

  Movement across the street caught my eye and I watched a man walk out of the shadows. He stopped beneath the street lamp and pushed the fedora back on his head, letting the light touch his face.