The Monolith Murders (6 page)

The huge security guard was the same one Fred had worked with when he was in pursuit of the Sarasota mass murderer. His company nickname, “the living tower,” was well deserved. Even Schultz looked small standing next to him.
 

Although they had established a good relationship, Fred did not expect the vigorous handshake of the over-sized man as Fred’s hand completely vanished under his. Fred could almost hear his hand bones shatter as the big man suddenly realized his emotion had gotten control of him and his normal self-imposed constraint of his great strength had been forgotten in the heat of the moment. The guard’s face was flushed, “I’m terribly sorry,” he said.
 

Fred said, “It’s Okay, Don; I was worried about breaking your hand as well.” Since Fred was almost a foot shorter and carrying at least 200 pounds less weight, the guard responded with a broad smile to Fred’s retort.
 

Schultz and Fred walked briskly toward the medical operating room. Fred was thinking that he hadn’t been injured on the job in the four years since he had solved the mass murder case. But now he was experiencing severe pain in his throbbing hand. With the re-arrival of Donna, his streak of bad luck was starting to happen all over again.
 

The AU medical operating room was housed in the rear of the Science Division. A single metal door at the back of the Science Division provided its only entry point. As Fred was proceeding, Schultz grabbed Fred by the arm stopping him in his tracks.

“Look, Fred! there’s a light under the door! It’s almost ten o’clock; no one should be here at this time of night!”
 

Chapter 9

After running from Fred’s house, Jim, with his longer leg span, had advanced within twenty feet of his tiny antagonist. He had just proceeded through the open metal gate of the backyard of a neighbor’s home, slamming the gate tightly shut to preclude an easy silent reentry. The gate issued a loud metal clanging sound as it closed. Donna was running as fast as her small frame could propel her, but even with his injured ankle Jim was quickly gaining on her. She was now just a few feet in front of him next to the side of a house in the same yard that Jim had just entered. To her right was a 10 foot cement wall; that same sized wall encircled the entire property. Jim pulled out his weapon. Knowing what Donna was capable of, he had no intent to fire a warning shot; the faster society is rid of this creature the better for all of us, he thought. I’ll worry later about justifying my action to both my superiors and the media.

As he started to fire his weapon, Donna abruptly turned left at the corner of the house moving in the direction of the front of the house. Within a few seconds Jim turned the same corner. The front yard was deep. Jim knew that there was no way she could have made it to the front gate before he had turned the corner. Escape for her was impossible. Donna was trapped somewhere in the yard, but where? The house was typical Floridian, built on a cement slab with no crawl space, but Donna was nowhere to be seen. He quickly glanced around the other side of the house. No one! He went to the front door—locked. Where the hell was she? The wall was much too high for a person of her stature to be able to climb over. He proceeded to the back yard. Again no one there, the back gate was still secure just as he left it. Had she somehow been able to exit from the backyard gate, he would have heard the sound of its closing. He walked as far from the house as he could, staying within the boundary of the yard and looked up at the roof. No one. He knew instinctively that Donna couldn’t have reached the high roof from ground level. He tried the back door—locked. He went to a fiberglass shed in the backyard. It was padlocked. He knocked on the front door. No response. After another ten minutes of useless searching of the small lot, he sat down on the front steps, massaged his aching ankle, and smoked a cigarette. Then he gave up, totally disconcerted and frustrated.
 

Fred pulled his revolver out, pushing Schultz to the side while at the same time putting his finger on his lips signaling Schultz to be quiet.
 

Schultz started to protest, but remembering the unspeakable mental and physical things Donna had done to him four years ago with her hidden powers, he retreated and moved off to the side of the door saying nothing. He decided it was best to allow Fred to take care of Donna.

Fred bent his knees, crouching as low as he could, attempting to make himself as small a target as possible. He simultaneously opened the Science Division door and burst into the room.

“What the hell!” the person seated at the desk inside the door gasped.

Fred recognized him immediately; it was Dodd, who was the division director in charge of the Science Division as well as the medical unit contained within it.
 

Schultz was the first to speak. “Dodd, what the hell are you doing here this late?” he asked.

“Wait a minute,” Fred interrupted, focusing on his reason for being there. “Is Dr. Anderson in his room?” Fred was referring to the medical and operating room housed off to the left in the far back of the division.

“No, I haven’t seen or heard from him for two weeks; the last I saw him was the day he resigned from AU.”
 

“So no one’s in the medical unit?” Fred asked, fearful that Donna might be lurking somewhere and effecting some type of unknown control over Dodd.

“No, no one is in there, you can see for yourself,” Dodd responded.

Fred moved to the glossy white door of the medical unit. Schultz and Dodd stayed behind. Fred could hear Schultz asking again why Dodd was in the office this late.
 

Dodd replied, “You must remember, boss, it’s the anti-gravity experiment that the company wanted concluded this week.”
 

Schultz said, “Sure, I remember. Okay, get back to work.”
 

Fred could tell by the big man’s response that Schultz had either forgotten about the project or had not been included in its developmental loop. But Schultz’s ego wouldn’t let Dodd know that, so he had feigned knowledge.

Fred entered the medical unit where he had at one time interviewed Dr. Anderson. The operating table was in the same place it was during Fred’s last visit and the sterile high gloss walls still presented a cold uninviting antiseptic look. It was at that table where Dr. Anderson had first inserted the ESP device into Donna’s brain, and then weeks later removed it. The contents of the room had not materially changed; the only thing new was a large yellow plastic bucket, a sponge mop, a straw broom and an oversized dustpan sitting in the middle of the room. A layer of dust had accumulated on the operating table. Obviously, the place was no longer active as a medical unit. No, thought Fred, Donna has not been here.
 

Fred and Schultz left the Science Division and met again with the security guard. Fred issued stern directions, “Don, don’t let anyone in the building tonight. And for God’s sake, make sure if Donna or anyone else attempts to enter, you call me immediately.” He gave Don his personal cell phone number.
 

“No problem.”

“Make sure you do it,” Schultz said, unnecessarily reinforcing his authority once again.

“Yes sir,” the big man said.

Fred said, “Okay, now we need the phone number and address for Dr. Anderson.”
 

The guard moved to the reception desk, and within seconds Fred heard the low hum of a mainframe computer system starting up.
 

Fred was sure that Donna would attempt to get in touch with Dr. Anderson since he was the surgeon who had originally inserted the monolith into her brain. She wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it since it was a unique medical breakthrough requiring a surgeon imbued with special expertise. Fred thought it highly probable that Donna might want to have the operation conducted in the same area that it had been completed in previously, and that was the Science Division’s medical unit. Fortunately, Donna had not yet gotten to AU. Fred was not sure if Donna had attempted to contact Dr. Anderson before she had retrieved the paranormal unit from Fred’s dresser. It was critical that he get in touch with Anderson before Donna did.

Don handed Fred a piece of paper with Anderson’s phone number and address. Fred moved to the reception desk and placed a call to the number provided. The number rang at least ten times; no one picked up; no answering machine responded.

Fred said, “It appears the phone number is still good since I didn’t get a disconnect recording. However, I’m concerned that there was no answer.”

Acting if he were now in charge of the investigation, Schultz said, “Me too—let’s go to his house.”
 

Chapter 10

Fred didn’t fancy taking Schultz with him to Anderson’s place. Schulz would likely be in the way and certainly a major liability if Donna was already there. On the other hand, he was driving Schultz’s car, and Schultz would be left stranded if he left him at the company this late at night. Reluctantly, Fred agreed to have Schultz accompany him.

Fred jumped into the driver’s seat leaving Schultz no choice but to return to being a reluctant passenger again. Schultz commanded, “Fred, adjust the damn seat this time.”

At this time of night Sarasota’s streets were free from their daily commuters; Fred made excellent time getting to the Gulf Gate subdivision where Anderson lived.

A distant street light cast a slight yellowish neon glow on Anderson’s stucco house. The house was dark; a sale sign was posted in the middle of the front lawn. Fred silently walked up to the set of double walnut front doors; Schultz followed a few feet behind, crouching as much as a 6’5” person can. Fred noted something disturbing. The front door was cracked open about three inches.
 

“That’s not good,” he said to Schultz. “Get down, and stay outside!”
 

Schultz dropped back even further and said, “Of course, if you don’t need me.” Schultz really didn’t want to be needed at this time.

Fred had a small LED blue light on the end of his key chain. He activated the light and silently entered the house.
 

The house showed no signs of life. Fred found the light switch to his right and flicked it on. The house remained dark and foreboding. With his small pen light, and the open door allowing limited illumination from the outside street light, Fred realized he made himself an easy target for anyone hiding inside. He closed the front door, switched off his pen light and moved slowly through the foyer into the living room. By now his eyes had almost fully adjusted to the darkness. He crouched down and softly called out, “Dr. Anderson?”

No response. He silently moved to the kitchen, and finding nothing he methodically proceeded to the den. As he pushed open the door, he jumped as he saw a figure reposed in a desk chair. He yelled, “Put your hands up, and put them up now!” No reaction from the figure and no movement.

Fred turned on his light, shined it at the figure and gasped.

Chapter 11

The figure in the chair was a middle-aged woman, her previously attractive face now marred by a single bullet planted in the middle of her head. A minimum amount of blood had escaped from her wound. To Fred this was a clear indication that her heart had shut down immediately and she had died instantly.

He felt her arm, it was cold; he gently moved it up and down. Rigor mortis had not yet set in that part of her body. He checked her eyelids and then felt her face and neck since he knew that was the usual site for the start of the process. They were still in the early phase of
 

hardening. “That’s interesting.” Fred said to a vacant house, “She’s obviously been dead for a while, likely at least three hours.”
 

He recalled that rigor mortis normally sets in within three to four hours after death, but it usually disappears in from 36 to 48 hours. Fred looked at his watch. It was roughly an hour and a half since Donna had appeared in his house. If I’m correct, Fred thought, Donna visited Dr. Anderson’s house before she came to my place. Fred initially couldn’t understand how Donna knew where the monolith was. But if she kidnapped Anderson before going to Fred’s house, perhaps the doctor revealed its source. Or, knowing that I had been her arresting officer in her case, she might have assumed logically that I had it. At any rate he reasoned that Dr. Anderson had almost assuredly been kidnapped by Donna.

He glanced at the papers on the desk. With only a pen light for visibility he had problems reading some of the paperwork. He noticed an open envelope sent from the Neurological Surgery Unit at Fort Myers Hospital, but further search failed to find the letter associated with it.

Fred was sure there was no one else in the house, but he explored it anyway. He went through to the spacious garage via the kitchen door. It was there that he found the house’s main electrical switch. He threw it, activating lights in both the house and garage. Two cars were parked in the doublewide garage. Fred felt each of their hoods. Both were cold.

He left the garage and called Schultz, still standing outside. Fred brought him into the den and asked, “Do you know who this woman is?”
 

Schultz said, “God, yes, I do. She’s Dr. Anderson’s wife.”