by J P Barnett
Miriam could not leave them behind. She rounded back to survey the scene. Tanner crouched behind a rock, firing his rifle as often as he could. His aim impressed as always. Multiple shots hit the beast. In the chest. In the legs. It stumbled and slowed.
Cornelius caught up. He passed Tanner and approached Miriam. Tanner fired some more. The beast kept coming. The rifle’s stopping power paled in comparison to the resilience of this thing. They should have carried larger firearms.
Tanner stood up. He had also given up on his rifle. He looked to his belt, pulled a canister from it and jerked a metal pull tab from the top. It spewed a fine white mist. Tanner coughed and lobbed it towards the beast. He blinked furiously. The pepper spray had gotten into his eyes and he couldn’t see. Neither Miriam nor Cornelius would be able to carry Tanner.
He ran towards them without his sight. She started running as well. Cornelius slowed, unable to keep up, feeling the effects of study instead of exercise. Tanner miraculously followed the sound of her footsteps, she assumed. Or perhaps he could see just well enough to make out the path.
Miriam stopped in her tracks when she heard a blood-curdling scream, not from the beast, but from Cornelius. Tanner ran past her, grabbing her arm as he went. She ran again. Tanner let go of her arm. She realized that he needed her to run in front of him so that he could find his way. She felt sickened at the thought that they may have lost Cornelius, but she knew that she had to save Tanner and herself if she could.
She had never run this fast or this long. She didn’t hear the beast behind them anymore, but kept running. Tanner kept pace behind her. The cheetah cub had gone catatonic. It must have sensed the urgency of the situation. It needed Miriam to survive and must have known as much on some intuitive level.
They ran at full speed until they got to the jeep. Miriam turned and looked behind her. She did not see Cornelius. She could not hear him. The tears fought to break free from her resolve, but she pushed them back. This eventuality always loomed on the horizon. The beast had killed Cornelius. She could not mourn now when she could save herself and Tanner.
Miriam put the cheetah cub into the back seat and went to the cargo area of the jeep. She opened it, slid a large box to the back of the cargo area and popped open the top, hefting the elephant gun free from its case. She walked back to the front of the Jeep, laid on the ground, resting the gun on its stand, sighting it in the direction they’d just come from. She willed herself to be very still, all but stopping her breathing. She listened.
The .585 Gehringer elephant gun packed the most powerful punch in their arsenal. If the beast emerged from the woods, she would not hesitate to use it, but she could hear nothing. The beast gave up the chase. She shook in anger, desperate to shoot something. Tanner arrived beside her, knelt down, and put his hand on her shoulder.
Miriam understood his meaning. This moment could not be about revenge. The beast might come back. This moment had to be for running. She packed up the gun and climbed into the driver’s seat, with Tanner already inside and buckled in. She started the Jeep, willed away her tears, and drove as fast as she could to Rose Valley.
Chapter 27
The sheriff said to sit. Deirdre sat.
He didn’t need to provide direction for the next part. She put her hands on the table and the sheriff handcuffed both of her hands to the loops bolted to the table. Through the one-way mirror, Dub could tell that Deirdre was uncomfortable, which boded well for how quickly she might talk.
Cam rounded the table and sat across from her. He took off his hat and sat it on the table. “Why did you do it, Dr. Valentine?”
Deirdre didn’t answer. She stared straight at the sheriff. Through him, really. Dub didn’t expect her to cooperate easily, so her flat, stoic expression hardly surprised him. They could fluster her into omission if they could just delay her asking for a lawyer. That would give them more time to try to get her to screw up and let something slip. Dub liked their chances. The brighter ones always believed they could outsmart the cops.
Cam’s voice echoed through the speakers: “From my understanding, you’ve spent a year making sure Jake Rollins survived his accident. So why kill him?”
Again, she offered no answer. Dub knew from experience that she wondered whether she could win the battle of wills by making Cam lose his temper. She would hope to trick them into committing some breach of protocol that she would eventually be able to use to go free on a technicality. Given the bruises that Shandi had left on her face, Deirdre would likely be willing to accept a few blows from the sheriff if it meant she walked.
Normally, Dub would have no qualms about Cam’s ability to keep his wits about him, but the sheriff looked incredibly tired. Dark circles lined his reddened eyes. Dub doubted that Cam had slept the night before, given the murder of Cornelius Brooks.
Cam spoke frankly. “Look. I know Jake was always obsessed with you in high school. Maybe he got that way again? Is that it? Did he cross a line? Did he do something to you?”
Deirdre looked for a second as if she might laugh out loud. The sheriff leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. Cam’s patience was wearing thin.
Dub considered interrupting and trying to take over, but imagining the ass-chewing that came with that made the prospect unappealing. Cam proved difficult enough to deal with on a full tank. Dub estimated it better to let the sheriff do what he wanted, and hope that he recognized when he hit his limit. At least Dub could avoid the blame if Cam didn’t.
“Do you realize how serious of a predicament you’re in, Dr. Valentine? Getting convicted of first-degree attempted homicide is likely to carry a life sentence. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison?”
Dammit. She didn’t know that Jake had survived yet. Cam had just given her too much information. She clearly wanted Jake dead, and her believing that she accomplished her mission provided leverage.
Dub studied Deirdre’s face as she raced to process the sheriff’s slip up and saw the exact moment it dawned on her that the medics had found the vial, knew exactly how to respond, and had undone all her hard work. She slumped down, took a deep breath, and tried to shake off the blow. The sheriff’s mistake might yield fruit, after all.
Deirdre leaned forward, regaining her composure, unable to resist asking for clarification. “Sorry. Did you say attempted homicide?”
Cam perked up. He looked contemplative, confused, then guilty. The sheriff didn’t answer Deirdre. Instead, he put his hat back on his head, stood up, and left the room. Dub breathed a sigh of a relief.
As Cam slipped through the door, Dub spoke first: “Don’t worry about it, sheriff.”
Cam rubbed his temples. “I’m just so damned tired, Dub. It’s bad enough that we’ve got a monster on the loose, but now a murderer?”
Dub nodded, sympathetic. “Well, at least she’s not on the loose anymore. Let’s just give her a few minutes. Let her stew on it. You changed the game on her by letting her know that Jake’s still alive. That might rattle something loose.”
Cam grunted. “I need some coffee. Can you take over?”
“Sure. No problem.” Dub delighted in the challenge.
Intent on leaving her with her silence, Dub stared at Deirdre through the mirror. Like many of the boys in their class, he once lusted after her back in high school. He’d asked her to dance once at their freshman homecoming party, and she’d promised him that she would during the next slow song. Like an idiot, he asked her again and again, and she always replied the same, even when the DJ announced the last song. The lusting had petered out after that night.
When Deirdre began to look sufficiently annoyed, Dub walked into the interrogation room, still finding it awkward to turn a door handle with his non-dominant hand. Deirdre immediately started studying his face.
He sat across from her as she looked directly into his eyes. Dub lacked the stature of Cam Donner, coming off as far less intimidating, but he hoped that this seeming weakness might throw her off.
“I know it can be hard to confront an assault,” Dub began. “If that’s what happened here, just tell us. We only want to help. If Jake hurt you in some way, then your actions will be viewed more favorably by a jury. We just want to help you.”
Cam had already tried this tactic, but Dub had a different aim. He let the question hang. Dub didn’t believe for a second that Jake had assaulted her, but the implication of weakness might annoy her.
“Jake didn’t rape me, if that’s what you’re implying,” she said.
Dub nodded. “Okay. That’s good. That’s very good. Did he hurt you in some other way?”
He could see the frustration sneaking across her face. “No. I’m not a helpless little girl, Deputy.”
“No, no. Of course not. You have a very impressive body of work. You’re very accomplished.”
She sat in confident silence, looking strangely proud, as if her career could somehow exonerate her from attempted murder.
When she didn’t respond, Dub continued, “It was an accident, then? Maybe you didn’t know what the drug that you gave him would do to him?”
She glared at him. “I have two PhDs. I’ve worked in medical research my whole career. I’m the most accomplished medical professional in Rose Valley. What do you think?”
Dub had her now. “So you’re saying that you knew that injecting Jake Rollins with that drug would kill him, then?”
Her face went pale. As Dub had hoped, Deirdre had lost herself to pride. She didn’t answer, but Dub could see it from the flush on her cheeks, and the tightening of her muscles. Anger burned in her eyes.
He gave her time to answer, but when she didn’t, Dub carried on. “To make sure that I am 100% clear on this. Jake Rollins did not rape you. Jake Rollins did not hurt you in any way. Yet you gave him a drug that you knew would kill him. You had a gun that you fired at Shandi Mason. Is that how you got Jake to cooperate with you?”
Deirdre exploded, “None of that matters!”
Dub let her outburst dangle in the quiet air of the interrogation room. She hadn’t really given him any more information, but she’d lost control of her emotions. He studied her face.
“Thirsty, Dr. Valentine? Can I get you something to drink?”
She didn’t answer. She refused to look at him.
“How about a coke? Or a diet coke? Yeah. You look like you probably drink diet coke.”
She mumbled, “Dr. Pepper. Diet Coke is worse for you.”
“Dr. Pepper. You got it, Dr. Valentine. Just sit tight.” With a grin, he added. “And don’t go anywhere.”
Cam stood outside the door by the time Dub exited the interrogation room, sipping black coffee from a mug with “World’s Greatest Sheriff” painted on the side in puffy, colorful letters.
“Good job, Higgins,” Cam said between sips.
“Thanks, sheriff.”
“We should have a plan of attack when we go back in.”
Dub nodded. “Sure. Sounds like you’re coming in too then, next time? A little good cop, bad cop?”
Cam laughed. “Something like that. I’m pretty sure she thinks we’re both bad cops. Arrogant little bitch.”
“Yeah. But arrogance works to our advantage. She knows Jake’s alive now. For all she knows, he’s awake and he’s told us everything. The evidence is overwhelming. She’s too flustered to ask for a lawyer. I think we broke her.” Dub pointed to Deirdre through the glass. “You can see her working it out in her head now.”
Occasionally, an emotion would manically flash across Deirdre’s face, as she shuffled in seconds between looks of fear, confidence, and amusement. Though she would deny it with her last breath, Dub would bet his job on the fact that she belonged in a looney bin. How she got to be that way, he’d never know, but as much as he didn’t like her, a small part of him still felt bad for her.
After Dub returned with the Dr. Pepper, Deirdre looked serene and resolute, as if she had reached the solution to all of her problems. To most people, all of that would be undetectable, but Dub possessed an uncanny ability to read the smallest of micro-expressions. Words were often the smallest part of communication.
Dub nodded, and Cam cracked open the door, immediately going to the corner to stand, while Dub took the seat across from Deirdre. She looked back and forth between the two of them, a vague mix of fear and defiance mixed in her eyes.
Dub slid a Dr. Pepper towards her. It had a straw so she could drink it without the use of her hands. She ignored it and spoke before either of them had a chance. “Okay. I tried to kill Jake. You know that already. There’s no reason for me to be coy about it. I did it willingly and knowingly. He needs to die.”
Dub looked at the sheriff. Dub had been certain that they had broken her, but he didn’t expect this. Cam looked equally shocked.
“And why does he need to die, Dr. Valentine?” Dub asked.
“Because as long as he’s alive, that thing—the beast—will wreak havoc on Rose Valley. It started with livestock.” She motioned towards Dub’s hand with the limited movement of her wrist. “And self-defense. But it will progress past that. Soon it will start killing people.”
Dub glanced at Cam again. Though Deirdre didn’t know it yet, it had already moved past self-defense. The gory pieces of Cornelius Brooks attested to that. This had started with Deirdre attempting murder, but had transitioned into something else entirely.
Cam stepped forward from the corner. “What does that have to do with Jake?”
Deirdre ran her big eyes to Dub, then to Cam, making sure both were focused on her before she started. “One year ago, Jake almost died when that truck smashed his car. I saved him with an experimental serum developed by Arrowhead Research in the 1940s.”
Cam’s weight shifted. Dub was enthralled.
“The beast escaped from Arrowhead Research over seventy years ago,” Deirdre continued. “It’s like a blank canvas. It doesn’t think for itself. It only kills. Its instinct is to kill anything and everything that crosses its path, but it’s influenced by the seeker. The other seekers were all killed to stop the beast in the past, but now Jake is the seeker.”
Dub leaned forward. “The seeker?”
“That’s what Dr. Cordova called it. The one you call the beast, Dr. Cordova would have called the spear.
“I’ll make this as simple as I can for you,” she said. “One subject was basically given a lobotomy and a serum that increased aggression and testosterone. He was already large. But this serum made him even larger. It made him resilient to pain and enabled him to heal far quicker than a normal human. It was like steroids on, well... steroids.
“Then another subject was given the complementary serum,” she continued. ”Also intended to boost physical attributes, but focused more on healing ability. The idea was that the seeker didn’t need to be strong. It just needed to survive so that it could direct the spear. The serum I gave Jake mutated his neural pathways, linking him to the spear in a psychic connection of sorts. It’s all very complicated.”
It sounded far-fetched and impossible, but maybe the truth hid somewhere in this story. Dub asked, “But why? What was this even for?”
Deirdre did her best to shrug while still attached to the table. “I don’t know. Crazy scientists with infinite government money trying to beat the Nazis, I guess. Originally, they just wanted to find a way to create telepathic links for faster battlefield communication, but that didn’t work, so Cordova started carving away at the spear’s brain until there was nothing left, convinced that the telepathy would work if his brain wasn’t so independent.”
“Who would volunteer for something like that?” Cam asked.
“How the hell would I know? It was war. Might have volunteered. Might have been assigned.”
Deirdre was getting impatient, and Dub worried that if they didn’t get back on track, she’d clam up. “So, you’re telling us that Jake is controlling the beast?”
Deirdre nodded. “Sort of. Yeah. Not exactly, but that’s the
easiest way to think of it.”
“So, Jake is an accessory to murder, then?” Cam suggested.
Deirdre shook her head “No. I wouldn’t say that. He doesn’t know that he’s even doing it. His brainwaves activate the spear, but it’s failed telepathy. Jake’s thoughts and feelings might influence the spear, but they don’t control it. They just... enable it.”
Now Deirdre used the silence of the room for effect. Dub looked at Cam and could see that he also struggled to process the new information. Time to regroup. But Dub still wanted to understand why the solution to this problem involved murdering Jake.
Deirdre broke the silence. “I didn’t think the spear was still alive. It had been dormant for fifty years. It seemed like an acceptable risk. Giving Jake the seeker serum should have had no affect because there would be no spear for him to activate.
“But it wasn’t dead. It was alive. Dormant somewhere in Rose Valley. I injected Jake with that serum every week for a year. At this point, even stopping his treatments won’t revert the changes.”
She turned her attention solely to Cam, clearly wanting him in particular to understand. “Listen, sheriff. I’ve run all the permutations. I’ve looked at all the research. We can’t undo this. As long as Jake is alive, so is your beast. The spear might as well be indestructible while it’s active. Killable in theory but you won’t get anywhere near it without a lot of people dying. And you’d need way bigger guns than you’ve got.”
Bigger guns, huh? The sort of guns the blowhard from Missouri had offered might do the trick, but Dub didn’t like the prospect of siding with Skylar Brooks. Giving a man like that power could only lead to bad things.
Deirdre rattled on, “They tried to stop this thing in the past with all of the traditional means that you’ll throw at it, but they won’t work. They always had to kill the seeker. Jake is vulnerable. He has slightly elevated healing capabilities, sure, but those won’t stop a bullet. Or poison. Or deadly drugs.