The Immortal Gene Page 18

  Textbook. It was all textbook. And Jeffrey Harris had written this particular textbook.

  In order to be the good guest he wanted to be at the Canada Day party, he would need to BYOB. Bring Your Own Booze.

  Edwin grabbed his bag and exited the hotel room, leaving the key inside the room. He tossed the bag in the trunk of his car and drove to the liquor store in Huntsville.

  He wiped his forehead. It was already getting hot this first day of July. A flick of the air switch on his dash had blessed coolness blowing on him, keeping his underarms from leaving wet spots.

  It wasn’t until he was downtown and pulling into the liquor store that he realized he had been smiling the entire ride in.

  “It’s going to be a fine day,” he muttered.

  He parked and exited his vehicle.

  “Edwin!” a man shouted. “Hey, what are you doing up here?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Kirk drove the fifteen kilometers south to Huntsville and pulled off the highway on an exit ramp without saying a word about the heat. When he finally did speak, it startled Jake, who had drifted off.

  “You want a coffee at Timmy’s?”

  “No,” Jake grunted.

  “What? Coma do something to your brain? We always grabbed a Timmy’s when we were on the road.”

  “Not this time. Not for me,” Jake said, keeping his eyes closed.

  “Fine.”

  Kirk did drive-thru and got them to downtown Huntsville without delay. Jake ruminated on the case. He’d make notes on the Blood Eagle Killer’s methods so he’d be able to match them up to the other files. He would make timelines and a mind map of the family, their jobs, schools, and religion to see if the victims had something in common. If there was a pattern anywhere and it emerged, he was in the best position to see it.

  The cruiser slowed and turned into the liquor store parking lot.

  Jake opened his eyes and sat up.

  “We’re here, sleepyhead.” Kirk turned off the car and faced him. “Coming in?”

  Jake took in the building, the parking lot. It didn’t look too busy.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Outside the car, Kirk used the key fob to lock the doors, then turned to a man walking by.

  “Edwin!” he shouted. “Hey, what are you doing up here?”

  Jake edged around the hood to stand close, but not close enough to be involved in the conversation.

  Edwin, obviously a colleague of Kirk’s, seemed surprised to see him.

  “What brings you up here?” Edwin asked.

  A memory surfaced for Jake. The Marcello farmhouse. Wasn’t Edwin Detective Joslin’s medical examiner?

  “We’re going over files on the case,” Kirk replied, slapping Edwin on the arm. Kirk turned and gestured toward Jake. “You remember Detective Jake Wood?”

  “I do.” Edwin moved closer, his hand extended.

  Without wanting to, Jake shook it. Edwin’s sweat made the inside of his palm moist and cool. Jake sniffed the air, his mouth hanging open slightly. An odd collection of pheromones emanated off Edwin. Anxiety, nervousness, mixed with apprehension and excitement. It was as if he was going to get drunk but feared the hangover.

  “How’re you feeling?” Edwin asked. “Terrible thing that happened to you. We all thought you were dead.”

  Jake nodded, then turned to Kirk. “I’ll be inside.”

  This was why he didn’t want back on the force. He didn’t need the money and didn’t want to be as busy as he used to be. But it was the questions, the probing intellects that saw him as a story or a punchline. Edwin’s concern was a mask. He didn’t care about Jake. The scent gave him away. Edwin was all about himself. Even the handshake hadn’t been genuine. When Edwin had said terrible thing, he could have been asking Jake if he wanted cotton candy. It meant nothing, and in the end, Jake didn’t care.

  “Um, okay Jake,” Kirk fumbled his words, probably feeling awkward for having introduced them. “I’ll meet you inside.”

  Before Jake got two steps toward the front doors of the liquor store, an RCMP police cruiser stopped four feet from him.

  Jake made a face at Kirk as he gestured at the vehicle. “More friends?”

  The driver double-parked the cruiser and opened his door. On the passenger side, his female partner got out, too.

  Jake backed up so Kirk could handle them. This was steadily becoming too much interaction for one day. A simple alcohol run didn’t have to be so busy.

  Before the male officer—the driver—spoke his first words, Jake’s attention was drawn to Edwin. His scent had changed. Drastically. He smelled just nervous. Jake raised his head slightly to enjoy the full warmth of the summer sun, but kept his eyes on Edwin.

  Edwin’s hand twitched, then he rubbed the back of his neck. He blinked rapidly a few times as his pupils seemed to dilate. He cleared his throat as if he was about to say something, but instead eased back a few steps to stand behind Kirk.

  “Jake Wood?” the RCMP officer asked.

  Jake nodded. Kirk eased forward, flipped out his OPP ID badge.

  “Homicide. Name’s Detective Kirk Aiken. What can we do for you?”

  Edwin eased back another step again.

  What the fuck is it with this guy? Jake took in a strong scent of fear. He frowned in confusion. Had Edwin done something to make him fear the police? His behavior seemed irrational.

  “I’m Officer Manks and my partner is Officer Duncan.” The female passenger in uniform nodded. “We were headed out to Jake’s house on Boundary Road in Novar to talk to him about an incident that happened recently. Duncan here saw you get out of the car. So we pulled in.”

  “An incident?” Kirk asked. “What kind of incident?”

  “Mr. Wood, please step over here for me.”

  “Hold up,” Kirk said. “Tell me what this is all about first.”

  When Manks looked at Jake, he nodded. “Tell him, Manks,” Jake said. “It’ll go a lot easier.”

  “Four men laid a complaint against Jake.” He focused on Jake’s face. “Said you attacked them. One of the complainants left the hospital with a broken forearm. Two of them were...” He stopped and glanced at his partner, then back to Kirk. “Two of them were bitten.”

  Kirk barked a short laugh, then covered his mouth with his hand. “Bitten? Are you serious? And you think Jake did it?”

  Manks nodded. “The complainants admitted breaking into Jake’s house but said he was too rough as they weren’t on the premises when Jake attacked them. According to their statement, Mr. Wood hunted them and beat them and bit them.”

  Edwin peeked at Jake sidelong. Jake felt his glare momentarily, then it was gone.

  Kirk stood straighter. “Detective Jake Wood is my partner. He was in a coma for eighteen months and in the last week relocated to this area. Sure, his house was broken into, but if he hunted anybody, he would have to be a fast runner with his cane. Only just the other day, Jake stopped using his cane to walk.” Kirk leaned his upper body backward as if he was disgusted with something. “And to think, a man in his weakened state, able to take on four men at once and come out unscathed. Really? Not to mention that he’s a cop. C’mon guys, find someone else to harass.”

  “It’s easy to solve. The report stated that their attacker lost a tooth and bled from the wound.” Manks stared at Jake. “Open your mouth. Show me your teeth. Then we’ll talk about what might be possible and what might not be possible.”

  Jake smiled, showing his white teeth, not a single one missing. He used his thumb along the bottom of the teeth to try to shake them loose. Each remained rigid in his mouth.

  Manks exchanged a glance with Duncan.

  “I guess that about sums it up. I’ll have to recheck their statement.” His tone turned serious. “But let me ask you something, Detective. Why didn’t you report the break in?”

  “I’m a detective. Kirk here and I are dealing with it.”

  That seemed to satisfy Manks. He nodded at Kir
k as he stepped back to the cruiser.

  “You might want to look for two well-dressed men in a black SUV,” Jake said. “I think it’s a Suburban. Whatever those boys said in their statement, it’s coming from the SUV guys.”

  Manks frowned as if that didn’t make any sense. Jake didn’t care. The more people who knew about the black SUV, the better. Manks and Duncan nodded, slipped back in their cruiser, and started away.

  Edwin’s nervousness had calmed in the time Jake and Kirk had handled the police, but his scent still rankled Jake. Something was wrong with the guy. Or maybe it was because he worked with dead bodies all day and the thought of dealing with too many live ones freaked him out.

  Kirk and Edwin chatted a few moments more after the two RCMP officers pulled out, then said their goodbyes and entered the liquor store, Edwin going his own way down another aisle. Kirk was itching to ask Jake something, he could tell, but before he said anything, Jake had a question.

  “What’s the burnout rate for morticians and medical examiners? Guys like Edwin?”

  Kirk scratched his chin. “Don’t know. I think it’s something like five years. Maybe a little longer.”

  “How long has Edwin been doing it?”

  “Too long.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Edwin stood in the section where various kinds of rum covered the shelves. He stood alone, breathing slowly in an attempt to calm his racing heart. If he’d believed in signs, that had been a sign to back off the Radcliffes tonight. But he didn’t believe in new age bullshit like that. A man was in control of his destiny and things got fucked up if the man fucked them up. That wasn’t fate. That was reality.

  Whatever happened had nothing to do with a chance meeting with two detectives and two police officers from different detachments in the course of minutes in the parking lot of a liquor store three hours from his house.

  And after the Gathering, the police would never think to suspect him. Edwin would be back in Toronto by tomorrow morning with his new wife. The modus operandi will have changed so they may not even attribute this to the BEK killer. Sure, the blood eagle would have to be performed on the father, and the three daughters had to die, but the BEK killer had never kidnapped the mother. Also, once the blood eagle was done on Mr. Radcliffe, Edwin had considered dismemberment. He wanted Mr. Radcliffe’s body spread about the house. This crime scene would resemble a copycat killer doing his best to look like the real BEK killer. Edwin would do his best to achieve this.

  He placed a hand on his chest and waited another moment before grabbing a bottle of Kraken rum. After snatching up some wine, he started down the aisle toward the whiskey.

  At the party, he would tell partygoers that he was leaving early to make it home at a decent hour. Being seen at the party was also a new development. No way would the BEK killer do that. In other words, the situation was completely changed and there was no way the authorities would ever look at him. Ever.

  He wasn’t just sure of it, he knew it.

  In the whiskey section, he grabbed a cheap bottle of Grants and headed to the cashiers. At the till, he paid for the six bottles of wine, rum, and whiskey, and started for his car. Kirk’s cruiser was gone.

  See, he told himself. It was nothing.

  The chance meeting was just that. A coincidence and fuck Carl Jung if he thought there were no coincidences, only synchronicity.

  Synchronize this.

  He got behind the wheel, started the car. It wasn’t until he pulled out of the parking lot that he noticed a minor tremor in his hands.

  It was that Jake Wood guy. Intense and mysterious. The way he’d watched Edwin from the side. The way he’d scrutinized him. What the hell did Jake want anyway? What was his problem?

  Maybe when he was back to work, he would sit Kirk down and ask about his old partner. Find out what the hell had actually happened to the guy.

  Who knows, perhaps something in Jake’s brain had slipped off its track and that’s what had caused the coma that lasted eighteen months.

  Or maybe Jake was just fucked.

  Edwin smiled to himself as he headed to East Side Mario’s for a veal parmigiana lunch.

  Yeah, Jake Wood was fucked. That had to be it.

  Nothing else to it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “You want to tell me what the hell that was all about?” Kirk asked.

  He had remained quiet in the liquor store. Said nothing as they drove out of Huntsville and just now had asked his first question. He’d already slapped the steering wheel twice.

  “You’re a fucking detective with the OPP on disability and local cops want to talk to you about putting guys in the hospital.” He snapped his head sideways to glare at Jake. “And don’t deny it. I saw the fucking missing tooth in your mouth.”

  Jake shrugged and stared down at his hands in his lap. “What’s there to say? Four guys. I was outnumbered. They attacked me. I defended myself. One was untouched. One got a little roughed up. The other guy accidentally got his shoulder dislocated—”

  “What!” Kirk shouted. “Dislocated? And the other guy got a broken arm. Holy fuck, man. What the hell happened?”

  “The dislocated shoulder guy busted out my tooth. Broken arm guy pulled a blade. Blocked it too fast. Must’ve snapped something in his arm.” He put his head back and watched the white lines on the road race by the vehicle, trying to temper the rising anger. He didn’t want to go off on Kirk. He was the closest thing to a friend Jake had and he wanted to keep it that way.

  Kirk didn’t say anything for a few kilometers. He watched his mirrors, giving the appearance that he was busy driving but Jake knew different. He had things he wanted to say, things he wanted to know, but was lost on how to extract them from Jake. The truth was Kirk wanted to handle Jake with kid gloves.

  “What is it?” Jake asked. “Go ahead. Ask away. Don’t be nice because of what I’ve been through. I don’t want sympathy or pity.”

  Kirk looked his way briefly.

  “How did the tooth grow back so fast?” Kirk asked.

  “No idea.” Jake noticed Kirk’s grip tighten on the steering wheel. “Really, I don’t know. I didn’t allow the tests Sutton wanted to perform on me.”

  “Sutton told me something,” Kirk said. “Apparently coma patients often come out of their coma with anger issues. Once they’re grounded, visited by the people they love, basically get reoriented back into their old lives, the anger abates. Why didn’t that happen with you? I can feel your anger sometimes. A sense of rage that oozes off you. That’s not the Jake I know.”

  Jake studied a red Camaro as it passed them, following it up the highway.

  “Don’t know. I just feel angry. But maybe it has something to do with that orientation thing you just mentioned. I didn’t get the people I love back. I’ve lost Cindy to another man. I even lost my fuckin’ dog. So what, I’m not supposed to be pissed about it?”

  Kirk ran a hand through his hair. “Fair enough. You’re right. I’d be pissed at the world, too.”

  “Will I have a job when they deem me not disabled?” Jake asked. “Do I need one? Do I want one? I get broken into on day one in my new home. I just want to be left alone.” He watched the trees zip by on his side of the cruiser. “What does this world want from me? Take my life, take my woman, take everything away, then wake me almost two years later to keep fucking with me. Yeah, I’m angry. That’s why I need time away. That’s why I’m up here, convalescing.” He checked, but Kirk’s eyes were still on the road and not looking at him. “So let’s work on the Blood Eagle asshole and find Fortech Industries and then leave me be.” Knowing the cold months were only twelve weeks away, he added, “I want to hibernate for the winter, take it easy. Stock up the house and just veg until spring.”

  “Got it. I understand.” He hit the signal to take the exit ramp. “Let’s stick to the job, get it done, and I’ll leave you alone.” He smacked Jake’s leg. “For what
it’s worth, I understand you better now. I’m cool with it. Just promise me you’ll take it easy on the bad guys if they come around the house again.”

  “Can’t promise that.”

  Kirk jabbed him in the shoulder like he had in the early days. “C’mon, man.”

  “What I can promise is state-of-the-art security, twenty-four hours a day monitoring. That’ll keep them out. Sirens going off. They’ll scram before I even get downstairs. No one gets hurt.”

  It was Kirk’s turn to shrug. “I guess if that’s the best I can get out of you, then fine.”

  They drove in silence until Kirk killed the engine in Jake’s driveway.

  “You know Cindy is beating herself up over this.”

  Jake grabbed the door handle and waited. “Tell her I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t like this. But it is what it is.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “She’s having trouble with her marriage now. Nothing she can’t fix, but you can imagine how hard it must be. She loved you, man. Hardcore. For you to be found alive after waking from a coma just to treat her the way you did.”

  Jake snapped his head toward Kirk, who raised his hands in surrender.

  “I know,” Kirk said. “Anger issues. Waking from the coma and shit. Take it easy. Don’t bite my head off. Just telling you the way things are.”

  “The way things are is she got married. There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think about her and what could’ve been. Not a single day goes by that I don’t think about the baby she’s carrying and wish it were mine.” He punctuated his words by jamming an index finger in the air. “Now, we have a serial killer to catch and a company that is getting away with murder. Deal with that and we’ll talk about me making reparations to the way I treated Cindy.”

  He pushed the door open and exited the car.

  He was inside the house before Kirk got out, leaving him to grab the booze.

  There were case files to read, patterns to study, a killer to catch.