A Life of Death: Episodes 9 - 12 (9 page)

* * *

I opened my eyes to the dwindling smell of burnt leather, but every other sense found nothing in the darkness. No wind howled or trees scraped, and even the chanting had stopped.
Kevin, victim four. He left his daughter Jacqueline behind and his wife.
I took a labored breath, sucking in what moments before was impossible.
God, I hate this,
I silently swore. Instead of finding Jessie or Liz standing in front of me, the world blurred yet again, accompanied by the familiar smell I’d grown to hate.
Victim five, Chow Winn,
I told myself.

Another hail of fire and drugged, ritual sacrifice came upon me, this time in an overgrown field.
Mina, my wife, take care. I love you,
were Chow’s final thoughts before succumbing to the blazing fire beneath his bound body.

Then victim six, Ernie Cobb, flared into my thoughts.
Wh-where am I?
he wondered. Looking back into his memories of the night revealed that the drugged effects I was feeling were a mix of the beast’s concoction and intoxication. My own hatred of the Drunk and what had happened to Frank came to mind, and I struggled not to hate the man I was inhabiting. He, like the others, was fed to hungry flames, but this time behind a long-forgotten train depot.
Dad, I’m sorry,
came his unbidden thoughts before I was thrust into yet another victim.

As Davon King, I died in an abandoned factory on a rolling conveyor belt, one of many machines and pieces of furniture left in the building. My bared chest throbbed at the newly branded ankh, and the rollers singed my back in strips as the killer built a bonfire beneath them, leaving me bound to the metal contraption.

Fiona… I’ll miss you, doll. Take care of Momma,
was Davon’s final thought.

The monstrous beast’s parting words echoed through the three-story tall building before she pulled the great, metal doors closed behind her. “Anubis, that is seven. Grant my mother grace and entrance into the Duat.”

Cesar Chavez, victim eight, was left in a fifties diner after they’d closed down for the night. The flames reflected off the aluminum plating on the countertop and chair legs. A round, plastic clock with a faded hula dancer in the background clicked the seconds, marking time as the flames engulfed the counter where Cesar was lying, bound, drugged, and helpless.

The only change in the pattern was the serial killer’s acknowledgement. “Save him,” she cried, her voice quaking. “Allow him into your fold, past the test of purity, and into Osiris’s realm.”

Victims nine through fourteen continued the same way: in an abandoned trailer, a building, graveyard, coal mine, and even on a decrepit coalminer’s railroad on the outskirts of town. The fourteenth, Timothy Sterling, I relived yet again in the vacant parking lot. I was certain of two things by the end: Liz was somehow involved with our killer, and two, that each victim wore the ring. By the end, having it absent from my hand made me feel like something was missing. While it seemed as though I were standing in limbo yet again, I trembled as I took another breath, wondering,
Is it over?

“It’s never over,” answered a man from the darkness. “Not for people with your skills.”

Although we’d never met, I recognized the sound. “Kevin, is that you?”

The disembodied voice didn’t respond to the question, but said, “You’re close. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you,” came Cesar’s distinct voice from somewhere distant. Then others repeated the phrase and similar words of appreciation, many men’s voices. However they grew distant quickly and the islands of lit tables replaced the ghostly words.

* * *

My legs felt weak, and my knees buckled, but Jessie took my weight and helped me back into my chair.

“Alex, you okay?” he asked.

“I… I…” Giving up trying to phrase my thoughts, I simply nodded. I grabbed the glass of water that had arrived in my mental absence and downed it in a few large gulps. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I lurched back to my feet.

“Ho-ho-hold on, buddy,” Jessie said, gripping my shoulders. “You sure you should be standing?”

“Yeah, I should go.”

“How will you get home?” Jessie repeated

“I-I’ll take a taxi,” I stammered. My gaze turned to Liz as Jessie and I parted.
How… Why?

She stared back, but seeing my face, her excitement diminished. She still smiled, but it looked forced. “Good-bye, Alex. Take care of yourself,” she said.

I purposefully grabbed Jessie’s left hand this time and pulled him close, whispering, “You should come home with me.”

What remained of his energetic façade vanished, replaced with a frown. “No, not a chance.”

I bit my lip, unsure what to do.
If I leave, she could kill him tonight—wait, it’s barely the sixteenth. I’ve got time. She doesn’t know I know.
Looking into my old friend’s pleading eyes, I was aware that I couldn’t convince him.
Let him enjoy tonight. I’m sure his heart will be broken tomorrow.

Fourteen

PTSD—of the Paranormal Kind

September 17, 2011

The next morning I awoke to my cell phone vibrating off the kitchen counter and clattering across the linoleum floor. I open one eye a slit and peeked over the couch arm, still fully clothed. The sun was shining through the apartment windows on the far side of the dining room, and I evidently hadn’t even made it to the guest room the previous night. My head felt as though it was in a vice, and one of Kevin’s devilish leprechauns was chuckling while spinning it tighter. The drug-induced murders I’d relived left me with quite the hangover, unfortunately without first enjoying a party. “Fifteen visions at once,” I muttered, astounded at the thought. “And what was that first one?” I tried to shake away the heavy weight that descended on me as I sat up.
My God! Is a leprechaun actually sitting up there?
I wondered, cocking my head to the side for good measure. No shamrock-toting, tuxedo-clad leprechauns fell off, but the feeling remained.

The phone buzzed again, making its way across the floor of its own accord. “Coming. I’m coming,” I muttered to the gadget and moped over to it, hitting the
Brew
button on the coffeemaker before leaning down to pick the phone up. “Hello?” I said, flipping it open. Although I didn’t intend it to, it came out as a question.

“Alex, you okay?” said Hector Martinez.

My mind shifted gears, perking up, at least as much as it could through the morning fog cluttering my brain. “Hector… yeah, how’s it goin’?”

“Going fine, Al. You sound like you just woke up. You do realize it’s after nine, right?”

I glanced at the ornate, wooden centerpiece on Jessie’s table. On either side was a bowl filled with apples and pears, while a wooden clock tower rose from the center like a miniature cuckoo clock. It read 9:15.
Got forty-five minutes to get to the college,
I thought to myself groggily.
Holy shit! I’m not sure I can take doing that again so soon.
My head pounded. “I do now. What ya got for me?”

“Man, don’t tell me you had a go at the bottle. You know that ain’t good for you,” Martinez complained. “And Paige’ll kill you if she finds out.”

“No, nothin’ like that, Hector. It was a long night.” Thoughts of Liz and the visions came to mind, along with wavering suspicions of Liz, or at least her minor involvement.
Where’d she get that damned ring?
“In more ways than one,” I added.

“Well, I checked out all the runaways and MPs from the surrounding counties and got nothin’, bubkes. There’s no one that went missing within a month of September 20 last year.”

“I see.” My mind wandered to the previous night’s visions again. Something about the missing victim from last year made sense, but my head was swimming and I couldn’t decipher it all. After the ghostly visions I barely made it to the taxi, and the ride home was more like a distant trance than a recent memory.

“I also checked on that Rayson guy,” Martinez said, interrupting my thoughts. “He had it rough for a while after the divorce, got in a bit of trouble, like you mentioned. He even lost custody of his kids, probably due to his drinking.”

I nodded to myself. “Makes sense. How many kids did he have?”

“Two, but the younger one, a boy named Trevor, ran away a few years after the divorce.”

“Damn, that’s rough. I take it they never found him.”

A few clicks from a computer mouse filtered through the line. “Doesn’t look like it.”

Wow! No wonder he didn’t mention the boy. That could explain his move, though.
“Any luck finding out about his potential connection to these murders?”

“I pulled everything I could. Even scanned the old files into the computer in case you wanted me to e-mail them.” A few more clicks echoed to Alex’s ear as Martinez’s voice paused, probably to read the monitor. “Nah. He was here for a few years before the murders began, but according to his credit cards and bank statements, he moved after his wife died of cancer.”

“His wife’s dead?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Then who took care of the girl?”

“Says here the father wasn’t around so her grandmother took custody, a woman by the name of Deborah Easely.”

My jaw dropped.
Stone Face Easely—no, it can’t be.

“According to the report, she’s a—”

“Teacher,” I finished for him.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” he asked. Hector hadn’t grown up in Tranquil Heights, so sometimes the nature of small towns was still a surprise to him.

I took a deep breath and then let it out. “I took classes from her. She was a real piece of work. If her daughter died of cancer, that explains why she was such a cigarette Nazi on bathroom patrol.” Suddenly I remembered the comment I made to Greg Rayson and his moment of thoughtful silence afterward. As soon as the dots connected, the conclusion hit me like a slap across the face.
He knows her. She is—was his mother-in-law!
“We didn’t part on good terms,” I added, remembering my outburst in front of the school.

“You want me to talk to her?” Hector asked. “See what’s what, how the girl’s doing and all?”

“Please, if you wouldn’t mind,” I replied, breathing a sigh of relief. The last thing I wanted to do was to interview Stone Face Easely as part of this murder investigation.

“You want I should look into this Rayson fella more?”

“Nah. He hasn’t even been in town since the murders began. He’s got no connection with his own kids, let alone these murders.” Although I was tempted, I didn’t mention his connection to Evie’s death. If anyone needed to hear about that, it was Sergeant Rollen. Plus, I still hadn’t decided how to approach the issue. It was delicate, and the more I learned about Greg, the more I was sure he was suffering through his past losses. Evie’s death and a potential court case would drive him over the edge… maybe even literally. “Don’t spend too much time on it, though, unless you get a feeling. Easely is a lot of things.” Things I didn’t want to mention. “But she doesn’t fit the bill for this. Just be careful, and you probably don’t want to tell her that you know me.”

“Oh, so things
really
didn’t end well then.”

“No,” I confirmed. “I have a meeting with some professors on ancient Egypt again today, and then I’ll be heading home late tonight.”

“Got it. See you tomorrow then, Al.”

“Yup, you too,” I replied and hung up.

I shook my head at the coincidence, but that nagging feeling had returned.
There’s no such thing as coincidences,
I told myself.
Something’s up here, but what?
Then my thoughts turned to Jessie, and my eyes flitted back to the wooden centerpiece.
Just thirty-five minutes to get there. I’d better check on Jessie.
Although I wasn’t looking forward to the conversation I would have with him, I was still unsure what to say. Liz was somehow involved. The victims were wearing her ring. Although her voice wasn’t the same as the killer’s, there was still too much coincidence for my comfort.

I showered and changed. With fifteen minutes to spare, I shrugged into my overcoat and knocked on Jessie’s door. There was no answer. I knocked again, but still heard nothing. Peeking in, I found his bed sheets disheveled like normal, but nothing seemed different. The khakis and shirt he wore the night before weren’t atop the full hamper against the wall and his cell phone wasn’t on the charger.
Of course,
I concluded.
He didn’t come home.
For a split-second my heart skipped a beat, but then I reminded myself of the previous night’s significant moment—for him at least. However, she had seemed overly excited, too.
If she is the killer, she couldn’t have been that excited about someone she was going to kill, could she?

I pulled out my phone again and speed dialed Jessie.

“Yo,” he barked into the receiver after a few rings.

“Wow! Well it’s good to hear you so energetic,” I said with a smile and began heading to the car. “Glad you’re still alive.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jessie asked, his voice sounding perplexed.

My thoughts again went to the coincidences and last night’s visions.
He’s gotta be with her. If she’s involved, something could happen,
I worried. Then I reminded myself that we were still three days away and Jessie was a big boy. I needed to warn him, but it could wait a few hours. I still had to get everything figured out first.
I can’t just go accusing a man’s new fiancée of being a serial killer without some proof.
“No reason,” I answered. “We just gotta talk soon. I take it you didn’t come home last night.”

“Now, that’s the detective I know. You’re spot on, Alex.”

I laughed. “For once, right?”

He chuckled. “Something like that.”

“You do realize that aside from this one killer, I put away more murderers than any cop in the region,” I reminded him while starting the car and pulling into traffic.

“Yeah, and I know you’re good, Al. I just like yankin’ your chain,” he replied with another chuckle.

“Listen, Jess. I’m headin’ over to see the professors for that meeting this morning. You coming home soon, or wanna meet me there?”

“Do I?” he asked rhetorically. “No, but Liz might. She’s into that stuff, remember? Hold on.”

“W-wait, Jess,” I said, trying to stop him, but he’d already vanished from the line.
She can’t be there, not if she’s involved. She can’t see how I work… what I do.

Fortunately, when Jessie came back on the line, he said, “Nah, she’s not interested today. Maybe another day. We’ve got a lot to do, errands to run and things to get rolling for the wedding.”

I nodded to the empty car and hoped it wouldn’t be in vain.
I hope I’m wrong. Maybe there’s an explanation for her having the ring.
There were still too many unanswered questions. “Sounds good, Jess. I’m heading out tonight on a nine-o’clock flight, so if we could talk some time before then, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Sure. I’ll give you a ring when we finish up and see if you’re done teaching the academics.”

“Right,” I replied with a halfhearted laugh, “like I’m teaching them.”

“Believe it or not, you are. Who else better to explain
what you do
than you?” he said, emphasizing the generic reference to my specialty.

“True. I’ll see you then. Maybe we can grab coffee. Stay safe.”

“Will do,” he replied, and the line clicked off.

* * *

I arrived at the university over half an hour late and found the two professors talking outside Dr. Kamal’s office in the hallway.

“Get lost in traffic?” Dr. Mayna asked, already cloaked in her lab coat. She was wearing heels again, but this time with a brown skirt and thin, black, turtleneck sweater.

“Yeah, it’s a little daunting without Jessie to navigate.”

She laughed. “Nothing beats having a good local to show you around.”

“Don’t I know it?”

“Are you doing okay?” she asked after looking him over. “You look a bit pale.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long night. It would be great to spend a day recovering, but there isn’t time.”

She nodded with excitement. “You’re right, there’s not. I couldn’t help myself. I stayed up until early this morning typing my notes and everything you mentioned onto the computer, and that was after spending a late night here with Sacmis. I didn’t want to chance forgetting something. The quicker we record and document everything, the closer we’ll be to publishing our discoveries. Just have to make sure there’s a legitimate way to explain it all.” Dr. Mayna’s eyes took on a distant look, and her brows knitted in thought.

Dr. Kamal asked in his thick accent, “Any luck with your investigation?”

I took a deep breath, unsure whether to reveal everything. However, they knew and seemed to believe me. “More than I had hoped, and unfortunately from an unlikely source.”

The Egyptian professor’s bushy brows rose in curiosity. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” I gave them a quick summary of the detailed rituals and the wording of the sacrifices before asking, “Was the number seven important in ancient Egypt?”

“Why, yes it is,” he answered in his deep, knowing voice. “In essence, it is supposed to symbolize perfection. There are many examples of seven in ancient Egypt and Egyptian mythology. There are two references I think you’ll find most appropriate to your investigation. The first is the symbol for gold in ancient Egyptian writing. It had seven spines on its underside. You did say that she called these murders golden bulls, right?”

I nodded, considering the new information.

“The second, and possibly most important, is that the god Set tore Osiris’s body into fourteen pieces, one group of seven for each region of Upper and Lower Egypt.”

Dr. Mayna nodded. “That’s just what I was thinking.”

My eyes widened. “This woman is pulling from all over Egyptian mythology. Any record of someone doing something like this, sacrificing groups of seven?”