“What do you mean by ‘tracking them?’”
“This is going to sound crazy.”
“After the week I’ve had, nothing sounds crazy.”
“Professor was convinced that what happened to me, the missing girl, John Watson—they’re all connected.”
Explains why they showed up to Margo’s search party.
Brady studies Detective Holt for signs of dismissing his words. He can find none. Holt’s earnest eyes make invitation for him to continue.
“How are they connected, Brady?”
“I don’t know. That’s what we were trying to figure out before…” Brady pauses, before choking out the rest of the sentence. “Before it got to Professor Wadlow, too.”
“It? You mean the leopard thing?”
“Yes, but it can be what it wants to be. It changes forms. Professor called it a skin-walker. Said it’s in the folklore of a bunch of Native American tribes.”
“This thing. What else do you know about it?”
“That’s just it. Professor didn’t think it was a thing at all. He was convinced it’s a person. One tied to this area because it’s only around Harper Pass that these bad things seem to be happening.”
“I don’t understand. How could that thing be a person?”
“It’s hard to explain. But he said it had a different genetic makeup than the rest of us. A special gene. Oh crap, what’d he call it? The Infinity Gene! Yes, that’s it! Some kind of weird mutation or something that allows it to change forms at will.”
“And did you believe him?”
“No. At least not at first, but then I saw things. Things that can’t happen without it being true.”
“Like what?”
“Professor was working on a formula. One he developed. One he thought could possibly deactivate the special gene. I used it on this thing in Shiners’ Gorge, and it definitely hurt it. Bad.”
Detective Holt takes a moment to gather his thoughts. Yesterday, if Brady told him this same story, he would’ve Baker Acted him on the spot. But everything about Brady’s mannerisms and delivery remain consistent with someone telling the truth. And from these non-verbal cues that Holt spent a lifetime studying in interrogation rooms, Holt deduces Brady’s telling the truth, or at least believes what he’s saying is true.
“I shot that thing at least three times at point blank range. I wounded it, but I didn’t kill it. Can this formula really kill it?”
“I don’t know, but I think so. It will stop it from being able to change and heal itself. Then it can be killed. In theory, at least. But the professor’s lab is trashed and the formula’s destroyed.”
“You know how to make it?”
“No, only Professor knew the formulation and how to make it.”
“Do you have any more of the stuff?”
“Only a little bit. Half a vial at my house. Not sure if it’s enough.”
“And what about Angela?” Detective Holt motions to the car. “Does she know about this?”
“Yes, she knows. And her brother, Tee, and his friends too. We were all trying to stop this thing.”
“Jesus Christ. Am I the last person to find out about this?”
Detective Holt’s radio crackles from his belt followed by Officer Morrow’s voice. Holt motions Brady to hold his position for a minute and lowers the volume on his radio as he takes a few retreating steps for privacy.
“Do me a favor. Turn it to the channel we discussed.” Holt flips his radio to a different frequency. “You there, Morrow?”
“Yeah. I’m here, Holt.”
“What you got, Morrow?” Holt eyes Brady, who’s standing there with his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for the past hour,” Morrow huffs.
“Little radio malfunction is all.”
“I called your cell phone, too. Where were you?”
“Jesus, Morrow. What is this, twenty questions? I was looking into some things and forgot my cell phone in the car. There, you satisfied? Now, what did you find out?”
“No offense meant, Holt. Just worried about you is all.” Morrow’s voice carries a much more subservient undertone.
“Look, none taken. But Christ, you’re starting to sound like Ivansek. I got Kirsten worrying about me plenty so don’t need you worrying about me, too. And I’m kinda in the middle of something here, so what you got for me?”
“Betsy over in the lab at Elkins Memorial ran that blood for us. She owed me a favor anyway seeing as how I let her father cut a small road through the corner of my property.”
“And?”
“And wouldn’t you know it? It’s your lucky day. It’s AB-Negative!”
“Okay. So, I’m guessing it’s my lucky day because it matches the Rogers boys’ blood type?”
“Well, yeah. It’s a match. But it’s even better than that. Just so happens that blood type is rare. Just found in one percent of the US population. Very likely that blood is from either Shane Rogers or Seth Rogers. Or both for that matter.”
“Good work, Morrow. Send in the blood for a rush DNA test. See if you can get your buddy to pull us another favor and skip the line. Also, I need you to go by the Rogers’ house. Gather up the boys’ toothbrushes. Make it sound as routine as possible for the sake of Nancy Rogers. We don’t know anything for sure yet, and I don’t want her to have to swallow a poison pill more than once. Bag ‘em up and send those too. After that, get back out on the streets. I’m implementing a curfew at eight o’clock tonight.”
“A curfew? You sure that’s necessary?”
“Yes. I’ll explain later. But I gotta go.”
“Okay. I’ll get on it, Holt.”
Radio silence ensues. Holt looks at Brady, convinced he’s telling the truth, as insane as that seems. Earlier in the morning, a serial killer seemed the inevitable culprit, and he would’ve staked everything on that theory. That’s a walk in the park compared to this shit! Considering the disturbing details Brady revealed, Holt understands he’s dealing with something far more sinister and much more dangerous, but he’s unsure of his next move. One thing’s for sure. He can’t dodge that reporter forever. Kasey Norton expects him to talk. And soon. He’s running out of time. If he blows her off, she’ll put on a full court press, make his life miserable and his job damn near undoable. Better think of something juicy to give her. She’s expecting a healthy return for sitting on that story. The only thing worse than an ambitious reporter is a competent one. And she’s both. Time to get creative.
Chapter 51
Booking
DETECTIVE HOLT STROLLS through the doors of the station, Brady Palmer in tow. Brady’s donning a pair of police issue handcuffs around his wrists. Marcy lifts her eyes from her computer screen and gasps. Detective Holt wears a jubilant smile, a familiar expression around the station when he solves a case. Brady wears a frown, his eyes grazing the floor. Marcy can tell he’s not handling his perp walk well. And why should he? The boy’s fresh out of juvie, and he couldn’t even keep his nose clean for a few months. God knows what he’s done, but this time he’s going to prison. Serves him right.
“Need to book Brady Palmer. Suspected murder of John Watson,” Holt gloats. “Oh, and also Cam Givers.”
“Well, well, well. Detective Holt gets his man again.” Marcy unfurls a wide smile.
“Well can’t say that just yet, Marcy,” Holt offers in a gleeful tone as he delivers a wink that says, Yep, got my man. “Boy’s got a right to a trial and all.”
“Sign him in here, Holt.” Marcy lays the log on the table.
“I want a lawyer,” Brady mutters.
“You’ll get your chance, hotshot. Now, let’s empty those pockets. Anything sharp in here that’s going to cut me?”
Brady shakes his head no before Holt burrows his hands into Brady’s pockets. He pulls out a cell phone, a wallet, and some spare change. Marcy opens a manila envelope and Holt stashes Brady’s personal items there.
&nbs
p; “Do you have any drugs or weapons on you?” Detective Holt asks in an authoritative tone. Brady shakes his head no. Holt stares deeply into his eyes, trying to draw out a lie. “You know we’ll find them, right? Best to fess up now. Judge might have a little more leniency if I testify that you were cooperative.”
“I want a lawyer.”
“And I said you’ll get your chance,” Holt scolds.
Marcy, gripping her pen to write on the manila envelope the entire time, fails to make so much as one pen stroke. A wide-eyed Marcy fixates on the exchange, admiring the power and confidence that Holt exudes. She longs for a shot at detective one day and dreams of leaving the mundane desk work behind, but she’ll pay years of dues before that happens.
“Let’s get these prints and mugshots.”
Marcy nods. She leads Brady to a desk and prints him. A minute later, she positions him against a photo backdrop with multiple height markings. After capturing his front facing photo and profile pictures, she leads him to Holt.
“Interrogation room open, Marcy?”
“You bet, Holt. It’s all yours. But before you go, Clancy was just here twenty minutes ago getting his gun and badge. He was looking for you. Said he tried calling.”
“Great. Tell Lance to get out on patrol. Tell him to find Myron Thompson. Turns out Officer Ivansek was right for once. He may’ve lost a lot of blood, but he’s alive. Advise everyone that I suspect him to be armed and dangerous and that he’s also wanted in connection with the murders of John Watson and Cam Givers.”
“Right away. You got it. I’ll let ‘em know.”
“Oh, and Marcy,” Holt says as he begins to lead Brady away. “Call in the public defender for this puke.”
Chapter 52
Extended Reading
GATHERED IN THE basement of my house, we spent the balance of the last couple of hours decompressing from the events of the day and trading some light jokes to release tension. We managed to scarf down three frozen pizzas, which my mom served with a smile. She’s beaming about my newfound fortune of friends.
“We need to call Angela, Tee.” Robby tries to lock eyes with Tee, but Tee’s jumpy eyes prevent it.
Devin nods agreement with Robby. “Yeah, dude. Let’s catch ‘em up on the plan.”
“You gotta phone down here, Brooks?” The immediacy of Tee’s question surprises me. Whatever resistance he harbored to Brady’s presence seems to fizzle.
Robby flashes an exuberant smile. “What, Tee? No bitching and moaning?”
“Shut up, Robby!”
“Around the corner over there, Tee. On the wall by the bar.” I glance up for a moment from the book I’m reading, History and Legends of Harper Pass, as Tee hustles to the phone. I turn the page to a grainy rendering of a woman with long black stringy hair.
Robby’s eyes bounce wide at the two-page spread. His jovial demeanor recedes like an ebbing tide, and all the blood in his face retreats from the capillaries closest to the skin. For a moment, words evade him, and his lower jaw lunges.
“Where did you get that?” Robby finally manages to crackle out.
“It’s one of the books from the library. Why? What’s wrong?”
“I’ve seen her. The nightmare I had last night. Oh God. How the hell’s this possible?”
Devin’s eyes widen, and he scooches in closer. “Are you sure?”
“It’s her, Dev. I know it. I can’t forget that face.”
“Who is she, Brooks?”
“Says here, Samantha Mellinger. Says her fiancé, Lawrence Davis, died in the Civil War. Ooh, this is interesting. She was a coal miner’s daughter. Says his family didn’t approve of their son’s match with her. He was supposed to marry her when he got back. But he never did. He died in the Battle of Gettysburg. When she got the news, she was so heartbroken that she wailed tears of grief every day. Let’s see…” I thumb farther down the page. “Holy crap, you guys! Grief Hollow. That’s where she lived. That’s how it got its name. The locals started calling it that because of her!”
“Whoa.” Devin pushes the word on a puff of air through his lips.
“But Robby, why do you think she was in your dream?”
“How should I know, Brooks!”
“Did she say anything?”
“No. She didn’t. But Margo did.”
“Margo. Oh shit.” My eyes swell. “What did she say?”
“She said that I should’ve gone with my dad. To Grief Hollow. She said that was where I belonged. And since I hadn’t, it was going to be really painful now. It seemed so real. It scared the shit out of me, guys.”
“Wow.” Devin shakes his head slowly as he exhales a deep breath through his mouth. “That’s some crazy shit, dude.”
“And she said something else too. Something really weird. It didn’t make any sense, but the way she said it was super creepy. She said all of their fruit will wither on the vine.”
I tilt my head at Robby. “Wonder what it means?”
“It means we’re fucked.” Robby’s flat words linger in the air.
“Not necessarily.” Devin points to the open spread of the book. “This is what we’ve been looking for guys. What if Samantha Mellinger is this thing? Has been all along. This might be the clue we needed.”
“Still doesn’t explain what she wants.” I shake my head as I consider it, but I only arrive at more questions. “Why would she do this?”
“I don’t know. But did you catch her fiancés’ last name? Davis. Another Davis.” Devin taps his finger on the name. “Wonder if it’s all connected to the Davis curse.”
“Even if this book is true, and the Davis family didn’t like her, didn’t want her to marry their son, it’s not like they caused their own son’s death. He was killed in the war.”
Tee comes around the corner, his posture wilted and his body trembling.
“Brady’s been arrested!”
Robby throws his hands up. “What?”
I lock eyes with Tee. “Angela too?”
“No. She’s fine. Really upset, but fine. Detective Holt sent her away. She’s at home.”
I shake my head.
“Why?”
“Murder. That’s all Angela knew. But she thinks Wadlow because she overheard Detective Holt asking Brady about being at his house.”
“That’s bullshit!” Robby roars. “You know that’s bullshit.”
“Dammit.” Devin jerks his head forward with his blurted curse. “Just when we were getting somewhere.”
A deep frown overtakes my face.
“What are we going to do now?”
Chapter 53
The Cracked Egg
DETECTIVE HOLT GETS out of his vehicle at The Cracked Egg. He’s ten minutes late, not a common occurrence for a man who manages his time with diligence. Kasey Norton’s already spotted him. She makes a brisk march across the parking lot, sporting a sly smirk. She’s waited for this moment for a lifetime, an opportunity to realize what seemed like lofty, unattainable fantasies. On the cusp of realizing her dream, she can barely contain the smile budding below the surface. Against the conscious instruction from her brain, a virtual tug-of-war ensues, pulling the tiny levers of her facial muscles in opposite directions to a stalemate, resulting in a contorted grin, goofy and malformed.
“You’re late, Detective.”
“Yep.”
“Yep? That’s it? Was starting to wonder if you were going to show at all. Had a rather salacious backup piece to run about the department if you didn’t.” Kasey narrows her eyes on Detective Holt, her harsh tone intimating whatever he plans to share with her today better be good.
“Well, Kasey, I’m a man of my word. I told you you’d be the one to break the story, and here I am as promised. Albeit a little late. But for good reason. You won’t be disappointed.” A faint smile tugs on the corner of Holt’s lips.
“Good. And don’t be pullin’ any of that crap you pulled the other night. I want a great interview. Got it?”
“Got
it.” Detective Holt swallows his pride and suppresses the temptation to squash some of this young reporter’s over-inflated sense of self-importance. A less satisfying consolation, but he can use her zeal to his advantage.
“And I mean seriously, The Cracked Egg? Not the greatest of backdrops.” Kasey scowls as she surveys the dilapidated strip-mall parking lot. Holt gives no reply.
Kasey huffs and pivots on the stem of her high heel in the direction of the news van. Norman finishes unloading his gear and takes a clumsy stumble away from the news van. After a quick trot, he files behind Kasey, camera ready.
“Okay. So, we open with this shot here,” Kasey instructs as she frames the strip-mall with her hands.
“No problem, Kase.” Norman backs up a few steps, his shifty eyes inventorying Holt’s demeanor. Finding the air less contentious than the last meeting, he gets to work adjusting the focus of the camera lens on Kasey.
“And Detective Holt, if you can stand right over here.” She ushers Holt a few steps to his left.
“Perfect,” she enthusiastically chimes as Holt moves into place. “Ready?” A quick thumbs up from Norman and she’s moving into place herself, everything framed in the camera shot to her meticulous specifications.
Kasey brushes her blonde locks away from her face and does a quick once-over in her compact mirror. Cincinnati. Here I come. She turns to Norman and says, “Roll it.”
A quick finger countdown from Norman and she’s off.
“Kasey Norton here, Channel 4 News, coming to you with a follow-up exclusive interview with Harper Pass’s very own Detective Holt. Folks, again, this is a Channel 4 exclusive. You’re not going to see this anywhere else. Thanks for joining us today, Detective Holt.”
The Tear Collector Page 28