The Immortal Gene Read online

  “Put the twist ties on Mr. Marcello. Wrists and ankles. Do this, and nothing happens with Jason. He doesn’t disappear like in Hide ’n’ Seek. He doesn’t go away.” Jeffrey waved the gun behind Jason’s head. “That’s how this game starts.”

  Melissa’s eyes moved from the plastic twist ties to her husband, then back again.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Stephen said. He offered her his wrists. “Go ahead. Do what he says.”

  “You’ll need to be on the floor,” Jeffrey added. “Otherwise you’ll fall when she does your ankles.”

  Jason looked over his shoulder. “How will he look for us if he can’t walk?”

  “Remember, this is an adult version of Hide ’n’ Seek called The Gathering. They’re setting up the gathering part.”

  “Ohhh,” Jason moaned as he turned back.

  Mrs. Marcello tentatively picked up the plastic twist ties, then dropped one as her hands shook uncontrollably. Mr. Marcello nodded for her to do it as he got down on the floor and lay on his back. It took her a minute to secure his ankles and wrists. They were tight, but not tight enough to cut off circulation.

  “Very good. Now, Melissa, do your own ankles.”

  Melissa stood and faced him. “No way. Let Jason come to me first.”

  “Honey,” Stephen cut in. “Just do as he says.”

  Jeffrey waved the gun by Jason’s head. “A lot of parents would go above and beyond for their kids. It’s true. I know this. What I also know is that parents will do anything to save their child’s life.” Jeffrey set the gun on the stair beside him and pulled the Taser out of his bag. “This isn’t a negotiation. The plan is mine and it is created with everyone in mind. The plan is not to be changed in any way. Are we clear?”

  “Let him go,” Melissa stammered. Her lower lip quivered and her whole body shook. Tears bubbled up on her lower eyelids and dropped off her cheeks, lost to gravity.

  “As soon as your ankles are secure.”

  Melissa tossed aside the twist tie. “No deal. Let him go.”

  Jeffrey brought the Taser to Jason’s neck. “Last chance.”

  Jason stomped a foot, not knowing how close he was to being tasered. “C’mon Mom. Play along. It’ll be fun.”

  “Listen to your boy.”

  Melissa leapt from where she stood and ran for Jason.

  Jeffrey pushed the button. Jason jerked and seized in front of him. The second the volts took over Jason’s small body, Jeffrey dropped the Taser and picked up the Magnum.

  Jason fell away from the stairs and landed on the floor, his body wracked with spasms. His mother dropped to her knees beside her son and pleaded for it to stop.

  Jeffrey stood and placed the muzzle of the Magnum against her temple.

  “Don’t,” Stephen yelled from the other side of the foyer.

  “Get up,” Jeffrey ordered.

  “Shoot me,” Melissa shouted. “Or let me tend my son.”

  Jeffrey shrugged, none of this bothering him in the slightest. Each family resisted in some way as he tried to make them his own. He liked a tough mother figure.

  “Fine, have it your way, but you have totally ruined the game.”

  He spun the gun around in his hand, drew it back, then slammed the butt of the weapon down against Melissa’s temple. The woman collapsed like she’d been clipped by the corner of a freight train passing by. Sprawled out beside her son, her eyes fluttered, her body spasmed.

  As Stephen muttered angry threats, Jeffrey put the gun back on the stair and grabbed a small bottle from his bag. He opened the bottle and dabbed some of the liquid on a white cloth. Once the cloth was applied over Jason’s mouth and nose, the boy went peacefully to sleep. He wet the cloth with more liquid, then held it over Melissa’s mouth until her shuddering ceased.

  “What’s that?” Stephen asked.

  “Chloroform. They’ll be out until this is over.”

  “A blessing,” Stephen said.

  “Depends on your definition of a blessing.”

  “How’s that?” Stephen asked as he struggled with the twist ties, grunting and moaning.

  “It’s hard to watch this,” Jeffrey said to him. “I’ll spare you the trouble. It’s the least I could do for family.”

  Before leaving Melissa’s side, he bound her ankles and wrists a little too tight. Then he tied Jason’s ankles, too. With everyone tied up, secure, and asleep except for the father, the hard part was done. Always get the kid first. Once the kid was his, the parents would do anything he asked.

  Most of the time.

  Near the bottom of his bag of tricks, he found the ropes.

  “We need to get you tied up before I finish here and leave.” He walked over to Stephen as the man squirmed like a worm on a hook.

  Jeffrey made a loop with the rope and wrapped it around Stephen’s ankles. As Stephen protested and did a mockery of sit-ups trying to reach Jeffrey, Jeffrey dragged him into the large living room near the side of the staircase.

  He changed direction and started up the stairs, keeping the rope over the railing while Stephen stayed on the level below. With each step, Stephen’s ankles lifted higher until the man was on his back, feet and legs pulling him upward. Then Stephen was on his shoulders, and finally the tip of his head. At last, Stephen was suspended upside down and bucking like a hooked fish against the wall below the banister. That was where, with as much strength as Jeffrey could muster, he tied the rope to the thickest post. Stephen faced the wall below, his back exposed. Once Jeffrey had checked the rope and was certain Stephen couldn’t escape, he returned to the foyer to deal with his new son.

  Jeffrey grabbed a pair of scissors from his bag and clipped a lock of Jason’s hair. After zipping the hair into a plastic baggie and stuffing the baggie in his gym bag, he grabbed Jason’s feet and dragged him to his bedroom down the hall. When he was done with the boy and had taken his memento, Jeffrey took Melissa, his new wife, by the ankles and dragged her into the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” Stephen yelled from where he hung from the banister.

  “Preparing for The Gathering,” Jeffrey yelled back. “Just wait. Your turn is coming.”

  “What are you going to do with us?”

  Jeffrey expelled an exasperated sigh. “Enough questions. I’m making you my family.”

  He headed back to his bag. The wound on the side of Melissa’s head had bled a little, leaving traces on the floor. Since it was the mother’s blood, it wouldn’t connect him to this house when forensics did their cleaning.

  After pulling the plastic sheets out of the side pocket of his bag and unfolding them, Jeffrey grabbed the scissors. Back in the kitchen, he laid the sheets on the linoleum floor beside his new wife. He cut off her shirt and pants, then rolled her naked body onto the plastic.

  “Now, for my official taking of the female of the house.”

  “Don’t do it,” Stephen shouted, his voice strained, pleading. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Jeffrey looked over his shoulder, even though Stephen couldn’t see him from here. “It’s how I take a family. Don’t worry, your turn is coming.”

  When he was done with his new wife, he got to his feet and admired his work. “There, all mine,” he said between breaths.

  It was Mr. Marcello’s turn.

  Jeffrey went to his bag and snatched the hammer and the small ax. The final moment was upon him. He would collect the rest of his mementos and do the cleanup with gasoline wherever he’d touched a surface, acid wherever he’d left any of his bodily fluids. The plastic under his new wife would collect whatever DNA he’d left behind. Being completely hairless went a long way in reassuring him that taking a family would never be his undoing. If anything, this episode would continue to baffle the authorities as it had for over a decade.

  Back at Mr. Marcello’s side, watching him struggle and sway upside down, Jeffrey found his peace. It was in this moment he felt the most clarity. This was the final act of making a family his. The final momen
t when the soul of the family was captured, the necessary rendition of this Gathering.

  Jeffrey slipped the scissors inside the neck of Stephen’s shirt and cut upward toward the man’s waist while Stephen squirmed.

  “What are you going to do?” Stephen shouted, his voice heavy, thicker. He bucked against the wall and tried to worm his way out of Jeffrey’s grasp.

  “It’s a small procedure the Vikings used to do about a thousand years ago. It’ll prove painful and may paralyze you if you’re moving around like that. Just hold still. It won’t take long.”

  Stephen pushed, bucked hard, and swung away from the wall.

  “I had a feeling you’d be like this,” Jeffrey said, disappointed. “I’m going to do it anyway.”

  With the father’s shirt stripped from his back, Jeffrey lowered the tip of the ax until it touched the vertebrae by Stephen’s waist. He applied pressure to the spine and dragged the blade of the ax downward in a straight line, splitting Stephen’s skin open. At the shoulder blades, he stopped, the skin split all the way now.

  Stephen roared in pain but stopped struggling. His neck arched in a way that didn’t look natural as he bellowed. The gash had to have gone an inch deep. Blood oozed out the entire length, running down Stephen’s neck, met his hair where it disappeared briefly, and then reappeared as it dripped on the floor. The blood had rushed to his head, his bloodshot eyes bulging.

  “This’ll only hurt for a few seconds. Then the pain will end.”

  “Why?” Stephen asked, his voice soft now, almost as if he was sleepy.

  The roasted duck must be burning in the oven. The smell in the air had changed. He would have to remember to turn the oven off before he left. Wouldn’t want the house to burn down.

  “No more questions,” Jeffrey said. “Your family is mine for the taking.”

  “You won’t get away with this.”

  “I always do.”

  “God is watching.”

  Jeffrey stopped and looked down at the back of Mr. Marcello’s head, contemplating what he had just said, the ax in one hand, its tip red with Stephen’s blood.

  He knelt to be close to the father of the house and whispered. “There is no God. Religion is man-made. Even the Bible is a bunch of lies. How would a man named Jesus find men in the Middle East named Simon, Paul, Matthew, Andrew, James, and John? The Bible is an archaic criminal and moral code. Someone found it and said, ‘Hey, got a new religion here.’ Well, it’s all bullshit.” Jeffrey leaned in closer. “There is no God. If there were, why make people like me?”

  Jeffrey placed the ax blade inside the cut in Stephen’s back, making sure it was just right. Then he raised the hammer and brought it down on the back of the ax to complete his masterpiece.

  When he had finished the Viking Blood Eagle on Stephen’s body, The Gathering was complete. He cleaned all traces of his presence throughout the house, even remembering to turn the oven off.

  As he left the Marcello house with his mementos, his new family, and the soul of the Marcellos along with it, he had a spring in his step. He couldn’t be happier. New pictures, new memories, and a new lease on life. His extended family would be so happy for him.

  Jeffrey Harris was a new man and he would stay that way for a while.

  At least for two years.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jake Wood rolled over to cuddle his fiancée, but she wasn’t there. Instead he was greeted with the smell of bacon and eggs, and Athina at his feet. The large shepherd moaned when Jake bumped his foot against her.

  “Sorry, bud.”

  He stared at the bedroom ceiling and blinked sleep away. Dreams had assaulted him through the night. After dealing with dead bodies, his dreams were of a dark, brooding nature. They would last a few days then wane. It was part and parcel of being a homicide detective. Seven years since his transfer to the Orillia detachment and the dreams still came, murder scene after murder scene.

  He rubbed his face and rolled out of bed.

  Disturbed, Athina bounded off and ran out of the room, dog tags clanging as she hustled down the stairs.

  “I gotta use the toilet, too,” Jake said.

  Once he was dressed and had splashed water on his face, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. At the table, Cindy was pouring coffee into his cop mug, a large black cup with O.P.P. stenciled at the top and Naughty by Nature written below.

  “Morning,” he mumbled and moved to kiss her cheek.

  She angled her head and accepted the kiss with a smile.

  “What makes you so cheery today?” he asked. “Spill the beans. Let me in on it so I can be happy, too.”

  Cindy placed the coffeepot back and grabbed a plate off the counter which brimmed with eggs, bacon, and toast already buttered.

  “You. Last night.”

  “You must think I’m hungry.” Jake snatched up his fork. “That’s a lot of grub.”

  “You’re always hungry,” she teased and lunged in for a short peck on his cheek.

  He jammed eggs in his mouth and bit off the tip of a piece of bacon. With a full mouth, he asked, “What about me last night?”

  She sat in the chair across from him, her grin wide enough to show teeth. Something was obviously making her too jolly for the early hour.

  “Tossing and turning in your sleep—”

  “And that’s funny?” he gasped in mock frustration. “My nightmares amuse you?”

  “After you calmed a bit and I was about to fall back to sleep, we were spooning.”

  “Okay,” he said between mouthfuls. “I’m following the story but not the humor.”

  “Your hips.” She raised her coffee cup—pictures of kittens on it—and sat back in her chair.

  He stopped chewing and stared at her. “Gyrating again?”

  She nodded, that smile of hers wider somehow.

  “In my sleep?”

  Another nod.

  “Sorry.” He resumed chewing.

  “Don’t be. It’s cute.”

  “Whew. Close one. Thought I’d be in trouble there.”

  “Silly.” She drank. “We’re going to be married in a few months. You think that would bother me?”

  The thought of the marriage, the honeymoon, and the cost of everything came back and turned his stomach. He sipped from his mug.

  Worried she would see a change in him, he looked at her and smiled.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Jake Wood.” She leaned forward and rested on the table. “Tell me.”

  He took another bite of eggs and shrugged. “Just work.”

  “I mentioned the wedding. That caused the change.”

  He debated telling her about the second mortgage again. But how could he tell her there might not be a honeymoon? No trip to Rome. No fancy getaway. Everything could still be a go.

  “A man was killed by a Maytag last night.”

  Cindy frowned. “A Maytag?”

  Jake nodded and resumed eating. “Washing machine.”

  “How does someone get killed by a washing machine? And how does that relate to our wedding?”

  Jake set his fork down. “When you mentioned marriage, my thoughts went to the wife I had to talk to last night. She’s married. To the dead man. It had no relation, really. Just, you know, I deal with so much death and crime every day, how is it possible we could be so happy?”

  Cindy studied his face a moment too long, then looked away. “I guess I can see the correlation.” She drank the last of her coffee. “A Maytag?”

  “Yeah. Some idiot put the washing machine above the dryer. The shelf gave way and pinned the old man against the wall, under the machine. The weight was just too much. Ruled an accidental death.”

  “Is that what you dreamed about last night?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Probably. Don’t remember though.”

  “You never do.”

  He scooped up the last of the eggs with a desire to finish eating and get in t
he shower. “Plans for the day?” he asked. Time to change the subject. They’d both know in a few days if the money would be there. No more pussyfooting around her after that.

  “Knitting, knitting and more knitting. Oh, and a little designing. You know, the usual.”

  “It’s barely eight in the morning. You’re up early when you don’t have to be.”

  “The only difference when running your own business is you get to pick the fifteen hours a day you work. I still work as much as everyone else. I still need to put the time in.”

  “True.” He wiped his mouth. “I, on the other hand, have to report for duty whether or not there’s another dead body.”

  “Lovely.” She got up from the table and smacked his arm before taking his plate away. “You’re always so chipper in the morning discussing your macabre job.”

  “Macabre job? Really?” He acted stunned, like she’d offended him. “I solve crimes and put bad guys in jail where they’re supposed to be so people like you are safe to sleep in their beds at night.”

  “Okay, Colonel Jessup. Got it. While I’m knitting, you’re on the wall and I can’t handle the truth.” She lowered her voice and recited Jack Nicholson’s lines. “You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth.” Then she laughed.

  Under normal circumstances, he would get up, wrap her in his arms, and kiss her until she protested. But this morning, he wondered if she was hinting at his untruth. There was no way she could know about the second mortgage. The house was in his name. He’d gone to the bank on his own time. On Friday when the money was approved, he’d tell her everything and the honeymoon would be on. If the money didn’t come through, he’d tell her everything and they’d work together to make things right.

  It was that look she’d given him, though. That extra pause. Then the quote about truth from a favorite movie of theirs.

  The other possibility was he was reading into it too much.

  Cindy bent to wipe the table with a cloth, still smiling. Jake smiled along with her, feeling like a shmuck. Money problems stressed her out. He was doing her a favor by excluding her until he knew the results. At least that’s what he told himself when he chose not to say anything.