John Locke - Lethal Experiment

“Ready for the guns,” I said.

I wiped mine down and placed it carefully into one of the plastic bags and put it in the duffel. Callie handed me hers and I cleaned and packed it with the other one.

“Crime scene’s okay,” I said.

“What about the video camera?”

“Sal didn’t trust Teddy to remove it, so he put a guy in the bar. He won’t leave without it.”

“You think Sal will try to use it against us someday?”

“Nah. Our people can discredit any type of evidence.”

I took a windbreaker out of the duffel and handed it to her.

“Put this on to cover your arm,” I said. “We’ll drive awhile before removing that tattoo.”

“I’ll do it after you drop me off. I’ve got some polish remover that works pretty well, but a job like this will take some time.”

“You still wearing the brown contacts?” I said.

She turned the flashlight onto her face.

“You like? You saw them earlier.”

“Huge difference,” I said. Callie’s natural pale-gray eyes were hypnotic. These were normal.

“I guess we’re ready,” I said. “Still, I’d feel better if we were doing the body double instead of Sal.”

Callie shrugged. “This is Goober Town, Donovan, not Miami CSI .”

Part of the plan was to have Teddy Boy take a picture of Callie at the restaurant with his cell phone camera, from a distance, but making sure he got at least a hazy shot of the outrageous tattoo on her right arm. When the local detectives come to the bar to interview people, Teddy Boy would remember taking the picture.

Sal already had a victim lined up that matched the tattoo, a dancer named Shawna. It was Shawna’s hair that I’d placed in the van. Shawna only vaguely resembled Callie, but Sal didn’t intend for much to be identifiable beyond the hair and tattoo. She was a dancer in one of Sal’s clubs in Cleveland, and had recently committed the unpardonable sin of threatening one of Sal’s lieutenants with exposure. Sal’s guy was preparing to kill her when Sal forced him to hide her instead, and keep her alive until he gave the word. I hoped the angry lieutenant would refrain from killing her until I could get Callie’s gun to Sal, so he could get the dancer’s prints on it. I hadn’t intended to use my gun tonight, but I did, so now I’d have to take it apart and scatter it, piece by piece, over a wide area.

“How long will we be in Vegas?” I asked.

Callie smirked at me. “Gotta check in with the ‘ol ball and chain?”

I shrugged. “When you’re in a committed relationship, there are certain rules of protocol.”

“So you’ll tell her we’re going to Vegas, just you and me?”

“Full disclosure is not one of the rules.”

“One night.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’ll be in Vegas one night.”

I assumed she had a tricky freelance killing to do that required a second person. If so, I’d need to know a few details before we left.

“What type of equipment should I bring?” I asked.

“A nice suit.”

“That’s it?”

“We’re just going to a show. At the Bellagio.”

“Oh.”

“That’s right.”

“What’s right?”

“ ‘O’.”

“Oh, what?” I said.

“The show is called ‘O.’”

“In that case,” I said, “who’s on first?”

“Does that work for Kathleen?”

“What, humor?”

She looked at me and rolled her eyes.

“Not really,” I said.

We sat there a moment, Callie staring straight ahead, thinking of one thing but talking about another.

“She probably thinks you’re funny,” Callie said. “It’s early in the relationship.”

“That’ll change soon, though, huh Dr. Phil?”

“You’re probably wondering why I want you to see this particular show this particular week,” she said.

“Hey, I’m honored. The reason doesn’t matter.”

“It might, later on.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because after the show you’re going to have to make a life and death decision.”

“My life and death?”

“No,” she said. “Mine.”

Chapter 16

Sunday morning. I was heading to Kathleen’s house when my cell phone rang. I checked the display, saw my daughter was calling, and had my driver raise the privacy partition. Before I clicked on, I reminded myself to start off cheerfully.

“Hi Kitten, what’s up?”

“ Oh my God, Daddy, someone’s killed Charlie !”

“What? Who’s been killed?” I said.

“Charlie! My boyfriend! Oh, my God! Someone’s killed Charlie !” Kimberly started sobbing. “Oh, my God !” she screamed.

With each sob I felt a stab of guilt. But also relief. Th at son-of-a-bitch might be hurting her in death, but he would have hurt her far worse by living.

“Kimberly, try to calm down. Tell me what happened.”

“They found a van this morning, in a field. Four boys were shot. One of them is Charley. Oh, God, Daddy!” She started sobbing again. “How can this have happened? Who could possibly want to hurt Charley? He was the greatest guy ever.”

“Are you absolutely sure it was Charlie? Has anyone identified the body?”

She was having trouble catching her breath.

“It’s him, Dad. All four boys were killed.”

“I’m so sorry, Kitten,” I said. “I’m so very sorry.”

We went on like that awhile. Somewhere in there she said, “I wish you could have met him. You would have liked him.”

“I know I would have,” I lied.

She cried some more and I remained on the phone until she was all cried out. I asked if there was anything I could do.

She said, “Is there any way you’d consider coming to the funeral?”

“Of course I will,” I said. “Just tell me when and where.”

I wasn’t worried about being recognized as Callie’s date from the Grantline Bar & Grill the night before. For one thing, all eyes were on Callie. For another, I’d worn elevator shoes that added three inches to my height, a brown wig, glasses and a full beard. The beard covered the scar on my face, and the clothes I wore are long gone. The guns were cleaned and currently in Sal’s possession. There was nothing to tie me to the scene.

Kathleen and I spent the day quietly, commiserating about Kimberly. I had to bite my lip a dozen times as Kathleen kept asking the same questions Kimberly had posed about poor, sweet, wonderful Charlie. It pissed me off that Kathleen assumed the kid she’d never met had been a choir boy. I mean, when four boys are murdered gangland style, wouldn’t you naturally assume there might be something amiss? I kept reminding myself that Kathleen was a civilian. She had no instincts or training that would lead her to suspect that Charlie had murdered one woman and raped a dozen others. I remained neutral on the subject of Charlie, knowing that in the days to come most of the sordid details would be revealed in the news. But I knew I could never tell Kathleen about my involvement in his death, despite the fact that by killing Charlie, Callie and I had saved Kimberly and countless other women. No matter how deep Kathleen and my relationship grew, this would be yet another terrible secret I’d have to keep from her.

“Donovan, is there anything you can do?” she said.

“You mean like trying to find out who did it?”

“Or at least get some updated information for Kimberly. I’m sure it would make her feel better.”

“That’s a good idea,” I said. “I’ll put Lou Kelly on it.”

Lou is my right-hand man, the guy that heads up my support team for Sensory Resources. Lou’s geek squad would be able to provide me with up-to-the-minute information from the sheriff's department.

All afternoon the calls went back and forth between Lou and me. By eight p.m. the investigation had made enough progress to give Kimberly a credible report.

“I know you’re hurting honey, but I called in some favors and did some checking. You can’t tell anyone about this, because it’s privileged, but I’ve got some information about the shooting.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” She sounded painfully subdued.

“I’ve got to warn you, you’re probably not going to like what I have to say.”

“Then it’s probably a pack of lies.”

Well, at least there was still a spark there. “It might be, honey, but the evidence they’ve gathered is pretty strong against the boys.”

She was quiet, bristling a little.

“It’s up to you, Kimberly.”

“I want to hear it,” she said. “I’ll find out eventually, so I may as well know now.”

“All right, then. I’ll start talking, and if it gets to be too much, just tell me and I’ll stop. Here goes: all four of the boys were from Darnell. Two of them were shot execution style with a single shot between the eyes. Charlie was one of them, the other was a boy named George Rawlins.”

I paused to let her finish crying.

“Go ahead, Dad. I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby. It’s hard. Maybe this isn’t the best time.”

“No Dad, really. I want to hear.”

“Okay. I’m reading from a memorandum now: ‘The other two, Bickham Wright and Robbie Milford, were wounded first; then finished off with head shots. The driver of the van, Bickham Wright, was shot in the groin. Robbie Milford was shot in the lower chest. Police on the scene speculated the shootings may have been gang related, and likely involved drugs; a conclusion they reached in an effort to tie the crime to the recent disappearance of Bickham Wright’s cousin, Ned Denhollen, also from Darnell.’”

Kimberly said, “Mr. Denhollen was our pharmacist. There’s been a rumor he left his wife. Has he been found?”

“There’s nothing in the report about it,” I said. “Here, I’ll read you what I have: ‘Denhollen is or was a Darnell pharmacist. Friends and neighbors interviewed considered Ned and his wife Anita to be living beyond their means, suggesting possible after-hours drug sales. The kill shots appeared to be professional in nature, suggesting a gangland-style murder or underworld execution.’”

“So far, none of this makes any sense,” Kimberly said. “If Mr. Denhollen was selling drugs, they would have shot him , not Charlie and the others.”

“Let me keep reading,” I said. “It starts to come together: ‘Madison Park police discovered the four bodies Sunday morning. Because the area where the bodies were found encompasses both jurisdictions, police officers from Madison Park and Darnell have joined forces to create a task force to investigate the shootings. All four victims were known to police at the scene and therefore identified simultaneously. At 1:25 p.m. today the task force began a thorough search of the victims’ homes, personal belongings, and computers. They discovered several clear, odorless vials of liquid in a box on the top shelf of Bickham Wright’s bedroom closet, which they turned over to a local medical lab for testing. Riley Cobb, a local computer expert, was able to access Robby Milford’s computer. He was able to uncover hundreds of pornographic downloads, as well as a folder named ‘Fuck Club.’”

I waited to see if she had a comment about that. She didn’t.

“Sorry about the language,” I said.

“Its okay, Daddy,” she said. “I’ve heard the word a million times.”

“There’s a lot of stuff about this,” I said. “Rather than read it, I’ll summarize. The task force found several files in the Fuck Club folder on Robbie’s computer, including seven rules for participating in the club, and photographs of three local girls, all nude, all apparently unconscious.