Should I tell Dr. Strong?
Seth hangs up the phone and moves next to me. “I’ve got more info about your father. Ready for it?”
My voice is hoarse and I whisper-bark “yes” like a dog with its vocal cords snipped.
“Isaiah Mallard was born Philip Isaiah Sudermann in 1972. What’s even more remarkable is that according to his birth records he was born blind.”
I gasp and jerk back against the couch. “Blind? My mother never mentioned that he was blind.”
“I know, and in 1990 he had a driver’s license. That means that he wasn’t blind anymore. What are the odds of you and your father both experiencing the same thing?”
What are the odds? My mind reels with questions and implications. Who is my father and where is he? Did he change his name to hide the fact that he gained his vision? How did he gain it? What does that mean for me?
I take a deep breath. I must see him. How I went from never wanting to see him to needing to in a single moment surprises me. He rejected me before I was born and now my future clings to him. I think I’m gonna be sick.
“Does he have a last known address?”
“He does, but you won’t like it.”
What’s new? My life has turned to shambles over the last two weeks. It wouldn’t surprise me if it winds up being a cemetery or some prison. I close my eyes and cringe. “Hit me with it.”
“Your mother’s house. He’s been un-existent ever since.”
I sigh loudly. “Non-existent, genius.”
“That’s what I said.”
There’s no point in arguing with him, so I don’t. “I guess it’s time to tangle with the hornet’s nest.”
“Best you sleep on it. I don’t wanna be sent over to your house in the middle of the night for a reported domestic violence call.”
“Fine, but you should still take me home. She won’t be as uncooperative in the morning if I’ve slept in my own bed.”
“That’s for certain.” He pats my leg and stands. “Well grab your gear and I’ll take you back.”
I rise, locate Esther, and head for the door. “I’m ready when you are.”
He slaps my butt and I turn rigid. “Race you to the car!”
It’s only Seth. I shake away my fear and exit into the hallway. “Funny mister. Real funny.”
Seth shuts and locks the door behind me. “I thought it was hysterical.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have a sense of humor. That was just mean-spirited. No one makes fun of the blind ninja and lives to tell about it.”
“Maybe not, but you gotta catch me first.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
My phone says it’s 08:24 on Wednesday morning but my body tells me that it’s much earlier. I rise from my bed like a zombie from its grave and drag myself into the kitchen. I put on a pot of coffee, collapse into one of the kitchen chairs, and set my phone on the table.
My head is killing me, so I lay it on the table. The experience I had with Seth last night plays in my mind and continues to haunt me. In my heart I know I was with him, but my mind remembers feeling and smelling the Braille Killer.
Between that and my hallucinations at the hospital, I’m unsure if I can trust myself to decipher reality from fantasy anymore. This case has turned me inside out and I just want it to be over.
The scent of fresh coffee wafts in the air and I breathe deep. No smell in the world is better in the morning. I sit up and my phone starts buzzing.
“Call from… Lieutenant Frost,” says the phone. “To answer, press or say one. To dis—”
“One.” I pick up the phone. “This is Detective Bergman.”
“Morning, Bergman. This is Lieutenant Frost.”
“Good morning, sir. What can I do for you?”
“We’ve had some recent developments in the case you and Detective Ryan were working, and we need some input from you. Come to the station as soon as possible. This is a time-sensitive matter.”
Recent developments? Seth hadn’t mentioned anything new last night. What’ve they’ve found? Dread saturates me like a layer of sweat. Crap, crap, crap! Everyone will find out that I’m blind. Will I lose my job? I push the thought from my mind.
I stand on shaky legs and walk over to the cabinet where the coffee mugs are. “Yes sir. I’ll be there as soon as I can get a ride.”
“How you manage without a personal car is beyond me. I’ll send someone over to pick you up.”
I grab a mug out of the cabinet. “That won’t be necessary, sir. I’ll be there within the hour.”
“When you arrive you can head straight to the second floor conference room.”
“Will do. See you soon.” I swipe down on my phone and end the call.
I set my phone back down on the table and fill my mug with piping hot coffee. Next to the coffee maker is a bowl with sugar cubes. It’s been there as long as I can remember. If Mother were to move it, I’d have a meltdown.
I grab three cubes and drop them into my mug. I set the mug down on the table. Thank God I don’t need to think about where things are in Mother’s house. She’s a stickler for keeping things consistent and muscle memory guides my hands. I fetch two creamers from the fridge, peel them open, and empty their contents into my mug. I grab a spoon from the drawer to the left of the sink and stir my coffee with it.
I press a button on the side of my phone and it prompts me for a command. “Call Seth.”
“Calling Seth Ryan on cell,” it replies.
The phone rings several times before forwarding to his voicemail. “End call,” I say before it prompts me to leave a message. The call ends and my phone prompts me for another command, but I don’t give it one. I’d call Veronica and ask her for a ride but she’s still at work.
I bring up the Uber ridesharing app on my phone with a voice command and request a ride. I hate relying on people and services like Uber but at least the option exists.
Ten years ago, the only option I had was taxi services and they quite literally charged an arm and leg to go anywhere. Two blocks? Twenty bucks, no joke. Not only that, but I had to worry about them taking the long way to my destination so that they could drive up the fare. With Uber, I know the cost upfront and don’t have to worry about which roads and routes they take. I can relax and enjoy the ride.
Ten minutes later, I’m in the car with Enrique and we’re barreling down Main Street in some souped-up sedan. The engine roars when we take off at each light and the tires squeal around corners. The tight suspension throws me from the seat with every little bump, leaving me breathless and exuberant.
The tires screech to a halt and the car dings when Enrique opens his door and hops out. By the time I remove my seatbelt and retrieve Esther he’s around the car and opening my door for me. “Curbside service, miss. May I offer you a hand?”
I’m trapped in the deep bucket seat, so I offer Enrique my hand. “It would be much appreciated.”
He takes my hand in his, grabs hold of my elbow with his other hand, and pulls me from the depths of the seat.
“There’s a curb right in front of you and the front steps are straight ahead.”
“Thank you.” I step up on the curb.
The car door slams behind me. “See you soon, miss.”
By the time I reach the front steps Enrique’s peeling rubber out of the police station parking lot. I traverse the five steps and head through the front doors. I’ve spent so much time in this building that navigating its halls is second nature to me but maneuvering through the sea of people proves difficult. Halfway down the main stretch someone grabs my arm. I can tell it’s Seth by the smell of his cologne.
“Come on. Everyone’s waiting on us.” He drags me along, pushing through people without remorse.
I don’t like the way Seth’s handling me. He’s a bit on the hostile side today and his voice reflects it. “What’s this about, Seth? Why was I called in?”
“I have no id
ea. We’ll know soon enough.” His voice barks at me and his words nip at my heels. “Stairs.”
I jerk my arm away from him. “I can manage just fine on my own.”
“Fine. Hurry up.” He stomps up the stairs.
I follow as fast as I can, and he grabs my arm again when I reach the top landing. I don’t understand what’s going on, and he’s starting to scare me. I try to jerk away again but he holds on tight. “You’re hurting my arm.”
His grip loosens but he doesn’t let go. “Sorry. That wasn’t my intention.” He pulls me forward again. “It’s been a rough morning and I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Are you pissed at me for something?”
He stops. “No.” He exhales loudly. “Look, we lost another officer last night. Bradford responded to a B&E in the valley and it went south. The bastard jumped him and slit his throat and now he’s in the wind.”
“Damn.” What else could I say?
Seth lets go of my arm and opens the conference room door. “You can take the first seat to your left.”
I walk inside the room and the tension sucks the air from my lungs. I locate the chair and sit down. I hold Esther between my knees under the table. Several pairs of brooding eyes drill into me. I know it’s not my imagination. Am I on trial for something?
The door closes, and I hear Seth settle in a chair somewhere to my right.
“Good, we’re all finally here.” Based on the projection of his voice I assume that Lieut. Frost sits almost directly across the table from me. “Let’s begin.”
I grip the armrests of my chair so hard that my fingers ache, but I can’t let go. “Sir, I haven’t been feeling well and I’ve temporarily lost my vision. Can you start by letting me know who’s present?”
“Temporary vision loss?” Skepticism drips from his words. Can’t say I blame him. “Certainly. Detective Ryan, Detective Roland, myself, and you.”
I take a deep breath and end my assault on the armrests. The tension eases in my shoulders, arms, and hands. “Thank you.”
“Detective Roland you may proceed.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant.” He clears his throat. “As you know, I joined the Braille Killer investigation ten days ago. What you may not know is that I have a background in cryptology and spent two decades in the Army as one of the top cryptologists in the world. I find patterns where others have failed and take pride in my discoveries. Early this morning I had one such breakthrough on this case.”
My hands tighten on the armrests once again and beads of sweat trickle down my nape. My fingernails dig into the vinyl. I lean forward in my seat tantalized and terrified over what his next words might be.
Detective Roland continues, “We’re all aware of the word burned into the thigh of each of the two victims, one spelling ‘amerce’ and the other ‘baling’, and we understand their meaning. Each explains the motive for the kill, but neither informs us of the reason behind the motive.”
Me! I’m the reason. I want to speak so badly and free myself of this burden I’ve carried for more than a decade but nothing I say now could help my cause. I am a ship lost at sea and there will be no rescue.
Papers rustle and Detective Roland continues, “However, once you combine the two words you can decrypt the hidden message.”
Hidden message? I swallow wrong and cough. My pulse races as I twist the words together in my head. My mind fights to find a solution, but the pressure is too great. I’m an aluminum can crushed under foot. I clear my mind and await Detective Roland’s revelation.
“But it’s more than a mere message. The killer names the one he deems responsible for evading responsibility and why he punishes them by killing innocent victims.” His voice turns cold. “It’s you, Detective Bergman.”
My body goes numb and my mind reels. I sink back in the chair and chew on his last words. I am the reason for the killings, but how did he reach that conclusion?
“Rearrange the letters from amerce and baling and you get Alice Bergman.”
His words are a double-hoofed horse kick to the chest. I cannot breathe or think or talk. Had I not already gone blind, this revelation might’ve taken my vision as well. I’m in a war room and fighting for my life and I think all my alliances have been severed.
“What do you make of that, Detective Bergman?” His words crawl through me like maggots in spoiled meat.
It’s the truth. I’m guilty as charged. Lock me up and toss away the key. Their blood is on my hands.
I swallow hard and will my voice to return. “What am I supposed to make of it? It seems like a stretch to me. A mere coincidence.”
“As I said, I’m a cryptologist, and in cryptology there are no coincidences.” Detective Roland’s superiority complex pushes me past my limit.
I fly out of my chair and let Detective Roland have it. “You think you’re so smart don’t you, you smug prick. Let’s say that it isn’t some stupid coincidence and the two words intentionally spell my name. Did you ever think that perhaps he knows I’m working the case and that’s why he did that? He’s screwing with us. Can’t you see that or are you too blinded by your own perceived superior intellect?”
Lieut. Frost slams his hand on the table like a gavel. “That’s enough, Detective Bergman.” If he expected me to flinch, I disappointed him. “I’ve been in this job for more than a decade and I have a knack for reading people. You’re holding back. Why?”
I cross my arms and stare ahead. What the hell does he expect me to say?
He continues, “How would the killer have known you’d be working the case when he killed and marked his first victim?”
If I had vision it’d be red with rage. As is, my voice growls through clenched teeth. “Simple—”
“Alice, please take a seat.” I’d forgotten Seth was in the room.
Anger rages in my balled fists but I reclaim my chair.
“Thank you. Detective Roland, Lieutenant Frost, what Detective Bergman is trying to say, poorly or otherwise, is that we believe the killer called in the first victim himself. The message was left for Alice on her office phone. No one uses that number anymore.”
I huff. “Exactly. He planned it from the start to throw us all off.”
“If that’s true Detective Bergman, and I’m not implying that it isn’t, then we have far bigger issues. A killer with an obsession like that is far more dangerous. He’s likely to be watching you. Do you have any issue with us searching your property?”
I reach down and probe the floor until I locate Esther. “I’m sure you won’t find anything but go right ahead. Search whatever you want.” I push my chair away from the table and stand. “Are we done here?”
“This meeting is over, but I’d like you to stay here until we’ve conducted the search.”
I squeeze Esther with all my strength. “You can’t expect me to just sit here all day.”
“I can’t keep you from leaving, but you know it’s in your best interest to do so. I imagine it’s only a matter of time before he makes a move on you.”
I reach back, find the edge of the chair, and sit back down. “Fine, but I expect some food and a drink while you turn my life upside-down. It’s the least you can do.”
“That can be arranged. I’ll send Officer Janis up here in a bit to take your order.”
“Good.” I lean back in the chair and tilt my head toward the ceiling.
“Detective Ryan. Detective Roland. Go see what you can dig up.”
Detective Roland pushes past my chair. “I go where the facts lead me, Bergman. It’s not personal.”
“Yeah, well I’m not sure you know the meaning of the word because it sure as hell feels personal.”
Lieut. Frost and his skunk-butt cologne walk past as he exits the room. How anyone can stomach the smell is beyond me. I pity his wife.
Seth walks over to my chair. “I’ll make sure your things are handled with care.”
He’s lucky he
didn’t try to touch me. He would’ve received a mouthful of Esther if he had. “Yeah, like you did with my arm earlier. Quite the soft touch you’ve got.”
“I’ve apologized for that already. Can’t we move on?”
“Move on? Yeah, that’s exactly what you should be doing right now.”
“Fine. I’ll be back for you.”
“Save your threats.”
He huffs and walks away, closing the door behind him. I lean back in the chair again and ponder what the hell just happened.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hour after excruciating hour crawls by and I continue to wait for the return of the cavalry. It’s a form of torture, at least in my book. I might have to press charges. Had I known what I was in for before I came in this morning, I would’ve at least brought my headphones with me.
Rummaging through my head for hours on end is good for no one, least of all me. I’ve relived every moment with Sarah and Cara repeatedly, but can’t find anything else of significance. What has gotten me thinking though is what Detective Roland said: “There are no coincidences.”
I’ve poured so much of myself into deciphering the letters that I’ve neglected the items that came with them. Yes, I’ve considered them thoroughly as well, but what if one is a key to unlocking the other? The Braille Killer has been planning and executing this game for a decade with meticulous detail, so I should assume that he hasn’t done anything without express reason. I missed the cypher of my name, so what else have I missed?
The door to the conference room opens and pulls me from my thoughts.
“Bring it all in here, guys. Just set the stuff on the table.” Detective Roland’s voice grates my nerves.
All what? Did they raid my underwear drawer?
Several minutes of grunting, puffing, sighing, and table shaking occur and then the door closes. The three men sit down in their chairs once more. Seth sits to my right, Detective Roland to my left, and Lieut. Frost across from me. Each has a unique scent, but only Seth’s is pleasant. For several minutes we sit in a silent stalemate—three against one. Normally I’d like the odds, but today I can feel the noose tightening around my neck.
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