Ashes to Ashes (33 page)

It was too much.

“Why would you break into a crime scene?”
Ginger asked. “Have you gone mad?”

“Yes,” Ashe replied.

“Good,” Ginger said. “It’s about time, my
friend. Sometimes a situation will encourage madness and insanity.
It becomes a necessity. It becomes the sane thing to do.”

Ashe closed his eyes. “What did you find out
about the powder, Ginger?” He opened back up his eyes.
“Please?”

“There wasn’t a whole lot of substance to
analyze,” Ginger said. “But there was enough to run a couple tests,
which showed me what I figured I would find. That substance was
made of…”

Ashe swiftly interrupted.

“What do you mean…
figured you would
find
? How could you figure anything about what I gave you?” he
asked.

“It wasn’t the first time that I had seen
that container,” Ginger admitted.

“What?”

“Not now.”

“
Right now
,” Ashe insisted.

“Not now,” Ginger repeated. “The substance
contained a mixture of rare fungus, amphetamines, herbs, and baby
powder. Yes…baby powder. These ingredients are ground and dyed
white and put into pill form. A simple pill, without any designs or
brand name.”

“Pill form? I gave you a powder,” Ashe said,
slightly baffled.

“Yea,” Ginger admitted. “But that was only a
dusting left behind by the pill that had
been
in the
container.”

“A pill?”

Ginger nodded.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been in possession of a similar
pill of this same substance?”

“Yes. Just one though, we were able to
synthesize the ingredients for further study,” Ginger replied.

“And you have been able to test it?”

Ginger nodded. “On the rodents.”

“And what effect does that pill have?” Ashe
asked. “What symptoms does it cause?” Understanding the effect of
the substance that he had found in Scott’s room could shine light
on some important answers to the whole mess. It could bring Ashe
closer to understanding his son’s state of mind because he will be
able to view the behavior with a specific point of context. When
diagnosing a person’s behavior, having a pivotal point, something
upon which everything rotates around, was important.

An elderly man may stab his nurse with a fork
because dementia had caused him to believe that the male nurse was
actually an intruder, intending to rob and kill him.

Tainted heroine could make a young woman
believe that she could fly, causing her to jump to her death from
the balcony of her high-rise apartment.

Context.

A core.

That was all Ashe needed.

“What I want you to see, Ashe,” Ginger began,
“is that the ingredients, accept for the amphetamines, are
harmless. Not only are they harmless, they are bloody pointless…if
you are not preparing some weird types of food. I wouldn’t use them
in my delicious cuisine, I tell you what. Technically, if you want
to get technical, and I quite often do such, the pill shouldn’t
do
anything. Yet, it does.”

“Why? How? I don’t understand,” Ashe stated,
pushing his plate of food aside. He leaned forward, his elbow on
the previously occupied portion of the table. “It obviously
does
something.”

The server returned with Ginger’s deep fried
food. He took a bite and continued. “While I tested on the wee
rodents, I had an idea of testing all the ingredients accept for
the amphetamines,” Ginger said. “It was a hunch. Stroke of genius.
One of many. When lacking the amphetamines, my friend, the other
ingredients have no effect, outside of giving some of the wee ones
the runs. Nasty case too. Couldn’t stop pooping.”

“But with the amphetamines?”

When taken, amphetamines can cause some
serious mental problems, causing things like psychosis and other
psychotic states. One of the possible symptoms of psychosis is the
imagined threat of persecution, possibly causing the person to act
against the perceived threat, believing it to be self-defense.

Did that explain Owen? And Franklin Barrett’
wife and son?

“Craziness,” Ginger replied. “The wee rodents
became aggressive, but never to each other. Which was strange. We
put pairs together to see how they would react and they were never
anything but buddy-buddy with the other rodent. They would only
appear agitated, vicious when a human would approach the
cages.”

“They were only aggressive when a person
would be involved,” Ashe said, more to himself than to Ginger. “But
they were not aggressive to other rats. What does that mean?” He
wasn’t sure what would cause a rat to grow violent against their
human handlers without causing them to strike out against their own
kind. “When you say aggressive, what exactly do you mean,
Ginger?”

“Aggressive,” Ginger answered. “They would
attack the cage when someone would be by it. They would freak out
when someone had to get into the cage for any reason.”

“Are you sure they were being
aggressive?”

“What do you mean?”

“Could they have been afraid?” Ashe asked.
“Reacting with fear instead of anger or irritation?”

Ginger opened his mouth to speak, but shut it
quickly. His eyes looked away from Ashe, clearly distracted with
thought. “I’d never considered that,” Ginger admitted. “The rats
normally don’t fear us. We have raised them and we are the ones
that feed them. Even during tests, the wee ones are always
ambivalent to people. But the substance changed that.”

The substance changed that, Ashe thought to
himself. “We both know that substances can do strange things to
behavior. If this pill could cause aggression, that could explain
Scott’s behavior…to a point. There seems to be more to it, though,
than just straight forward aggression. It doesn’t fit everything. I
talked to Scott, Ginger, and I didn’t get the feeling of
aggression, outside of expected reactions.” He remembered how Scott
sounded when he had heard Katherine’s voice, but that response was
more due to hurt than anger.

“You talked to Scott?”

Ashe nodded.

“It makes sense that he would reach out to
you…at some point,” Ginger said. “The sons and the fathers and all
that biblical mess. He must honestly believe that you are out to
help him…instead of to hurt him.”

“I would never want to hurt him. He wouldn’t
have called me if he ever questioned that,” Ashe told him, and when
the words left his mouth, something occurred to him. It was a
strange idea, but he asked anyway. “You said the rats attacked when
people were at the cage? Right? Did they attack everyone?”

Ginger considered the question. “I’m not
following you,” he said.

“How many handlers deal with the rats?”

“Besides myself? Three interns deal directly
with the rats,” Ginger told him.

“Did they attach when you came to the
cage?”

Ginger shook his head. “No. They only
attacked at the other three.”

“Are you still squeamish about putting the
rats down after experiments?” Ashe asked. “I remember how you never
could do that yourself. You said that it was the same as killing
your own babies.”

“I never kill the wee ones,” Ginger said.

“And they never attacked
you
,” Ashe
said.

“Right. Why is that important?”

“Fear,” Ashe said. “They didn’t see you as a
threat. They weren’t afraid of you. Paranoia? Maybe.
Hypersensitivity to external stimuli, mainly those that might be a
threat? Could be.” What about hallucination? He had been sure that
they played a part in the events that have occurred, with both
Barrett and his son. Their eyes had been opened and they had seen
something that they believed gave them a reason to kill. If not
hallucinations, then what?

“Did the rats appear to see things?” Ashe
asked ginger.

“Imaginary things?” Ginger responded. “Not
that I can tell.” He shook his head. “Why would they only attack
the interns? How would the rodents know they were a threat? How
could they possibly?”

“I don’t know,” Ashe replied. “Maybe they
picked up on body language. Paranoia can heighten senses, causing
even rats to become sensitive to cues.”

“Could be,” Ginger said. Something under the
table chimed and Ginger swiftly reach for his cell phone. “I got a
text,” he declared, looking at the phone. “My friend is pulling
in.”

“Your friend is far from punctual,” Ashe
said. “I know. I know.
Busy
.” He turned his attention to the
front door of the café and nearly swore out loud when Oscar walked
through it. Scratch that. He did swear out loud. “Shit!” And added,
“Liar!”

Chapter 39

Ginger moved to stand so that Oscar could
slide into the booth, but Oscar stopped the red haired man by
holding up a hand. Instead, Oscar pushed Ginger’s shoulder, forcing
him to slide over to the wall. Oscar would rather sit on the
outside of the seat and Ashe knew why. Ashe knew that Oscar liked
sit on the outside of booths for the same reason he always booked
the aisle seat on an airplane, he wanted the ability to instantly
react whenever a reason presented itself, which would be difficult
if he had to climb over another person.

It made sense.

Oscar had a smug expression when he put his
attention on Ashe. The expression irritated Ashe and he wanted to
leap over the table to choke the detective. If not the detective,
he could choke the life out of Ginger, the person who had knowingly
brought Oscar into their so-called den of secrets.

They were obviously secrets no more, Ashe
realized. And what did that mean for him? He wasn’t sure.

Putting his arms out, Ashe connected them at
the wrist. “Are you going to arrest me, Detective Harrison?
Infringement on an active investigation? Trespassing on a crime
scene? Obstruction of justice? Should I get up and assume the
position?”

“I’m on a food break,” Oscar replied, shaking
his head. “I don’t arrest people on my breaks. It’s bad for the
soul.” He motioned for the female server and asked for coffee. Once
he had his own steaming mug, he ordered a club sandwich with plain
chips.

“Hmm,” Ashe said, not sure how else to
respond to his old friend. “What do you know?”

“I know everything, Ashe,” Oscar said. “I
know that you’ve been conducting your own little investigation
behind my back, even though I asked you nicely to stay out of
it.”

Ashe went to protest but was cut off.

“
I asked you nicely
,” the detective
repeated. “But you’ve been asking questions…when you weren’t
sneaking out of bathroom windows. Did that really happen? The
bartender had told me you were there and you went into the
bathroom. I went back there and you were gone. Window open.”

Ashe nodded.

Oscar laughed. “I know that you went into my
crime scene. And I know, after talking to Ginger here, that you
took evidence from that scene.” He sighed. “You know what I am
going to do with you, Ashe?”

“Book me, Danno?” he replied.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing at all,” Oscar clarified. “Because I
drove you to it. I pushed you out that window when I ordered you to
stay on the sideline of your own son’s investigation. I said that
it was because you were emotionally compromised. And I stand by
that statement. But so was I. So was the whole department.”

“I don’t follow,” Ashe said.

“From the beginning,” Oscar began, “this
investigation, this manhunt has been compromised by all sides. We
know you and love you Ashe…as a former coworker and as our friend.
And that clouded judgments…which messed with protocol.”

As Oscar spoke, something occurred to Ashe.
“
You
personally never went into Scott’s room?”

“No,” Oscar answered. “And we didn’t process
his room
fully
right away, which we should have. I had CSU
go in and quickly grab whatever immediately grabbed their
attention. We focused on the actual crime scene. Or at least I told
myself that. But if it would have been anyone else, I would have
had their bedrooms torn to shit within the first few minutes. But I
didn’t. Inside, somewhere, I didn’t believe that Scott could have
murdered Owen in cold blood. It took the next bodies to slap me in
the face and wake me up a little.”

“I got slapped pretty good myself,” Ashe
admitted.

“Scott’s face should have been on the news
that night
,” Oscar insisted. Before Ashe could react, he
added, “And you know it, too. That is protocol when it comes to
suspect on the run. If not that night, then as soon as the next
bodies were positively linked to Owen’s death. I know that you
believe that having that press conference puts your son’s life in
danger, but that only proves my point. Finding the murder suspect
should be the YPD’s only priority. But…we kept it to ourselves. We
fucked up. And that should have never happened.”

Ashe didn’t want to but he had to agree.
Everyone had dropped the ball on the investigation, mostly due to
the identity of the suspect. “I know. I just…I don’t know. He is
my son
, Oscar. I didn’t know any other way to act.” He
groaned. “If you didn’t go into Scott’s room that night, then you
didn’t see
that
.” He pointed to the black and gold container
that still sat in front of Ginger. “You know what that is, don’t
you?”

“I’ve seen something like it before,” Oscar
said. “CSU should have taken it when they were in there.”

“And that is why Ginger called you,” Ashe
replied.

“Ginger called me because he knew that you
were in the shit over your head, Ashe,” Oscar said, taking a sip of
his black coffee. “Finding that container in Scott’s bedroom
changes things. It makes what is going on larger than I expected it
to be. The question is…why did you take it? What made you think it
was important?”

“It was an anomaly,” Ashe replied. “It didn’t
belong in that bedroom. It didn’t fit.”