Fathom by Mikel Parry

CH – FLAMING FELINE

A tiny pin of light grew in time with Demo’s heartbeat. Each thump in his chest sounded like a distant echo floating through infinite space and time. As the bright glow expanded so did his perception of reality. E A rush of air whooshed past him as he hit the ground.

“Demo, Demo, can you hear me? Are you alright?”

Demo looked around and saw the perfectly white floor he had grown to loathe. How could anything be so clean, so untouched? Suddenly he slammed his hands over his ears and let out a loud guttural scream. Jumping to his feet, he ran directly into an unsuspecting Jo, who fell backwards against the force into a nearby wall. Demo lashed out at him like a maniac out of control.

“They’re everywhere! They’re killing everyone!”

Jo looked desperately at Roslin for some sort of aid. Roslin obliged by grabbing Demo from behind with the help of Bob Cat. They dragged him back and away from the trembling Jo.

“Get him away from me! He’s gone totally mad!”

Demo’s eyes watered. His energy suddenly escaped him and he fell limply back into the two men’s arms. He felt as if every nerve in his body had been strung out and cut with jagged scissors. Walking carefully backwards while holding Demo’s relaxed body, Roslin and Bob Cat placed him cautiously down in a chair near a table. They watched as Demo struggled to regain his bearings. He dropped his head into his hands, resting his elbows on the glossy table.

“I feel sick.”

Roslin looked at Jo who just shrugged.

“You doing alright there, Demo?” Bob Cat asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He shook his head and beads of sweat raced down his face. He stuck his hand out beckoning in silence for something to appease him. Roslin was a step ahead. Placing a large plastic cup into Demo’s hands, he watched as he snatched it up and gulped it down.

“That’s still some good water. And this time it’s in a bigger cup.”

Roslin remained motionless but responded.

“I pulled some strings.”

Demo sat back in his chair allowing their scrutiny to fall squarely on his face. He was clear enough to know that they had business to attend to. Glancing at Jo (who immediately cowered), he began to regurgitate everything he’d seen. He watched Bob Cat’s face contort when he talked about the mutated zombie dogs from hell. Large canines had a way of putting Bob Cat on edge anyway; this sounded like his worst nightmare. But it was the climax of the story that made Roslin’s ears perk up .

“So you met him? You finally met Spencer?”

Demo nodded, realizing that Roslin had cut off his enthusiastic life and death story.

“Finally, after all this work . . .”

It appeared that for once Demo had done right by Roslin who was pacing around the room and mumbling under his breath.

“Unbelievable! I mean, seriously freaking unbelievable! Jo blurted out. “This is like uber levels of synapse cohabitation! Total mind freak right now!”

He was bouncing up and down on his heels and looked as gleeful as a kid in a candy store.

“Would you two please shut up? Did you forget that he’s a human being and not a piece of your shatty lab equipment?” grumbled Bob Cat.

“He’s right . . . one thing at a time, and at the right pace. Last thing we need to do right now is burn our only bridge.” Roslin answered. Bob Cat raised his eye brows in surprise.

Demo rolled out of his chair and threw up. He watched weakly as the spotless floor became tainted by another spewing stream of vomit.

“Damn it, Demo! We just had this place cleaned! Do you have any idea how hard it is to hire people for a facility that doesn’t exist?”

Demo just stared. The gears in his head were spinning round and round. There was something he wanted to do.

“I need a break. I need some time to piece this all together. I’m getting closer, but now I need to tie that world into this one.”

Roslin glanced at Jo who looked at the floor.

“I don’t think that time is something we have the luxury of extending to you right now.”

Demo shot Roslin a stern look of disapproval.

“You want to try that thing out and see what you can do? By all means, be my guest. But something tells me that isn’t exactly part of your plan. So, once again, I need some time.”

Roslin spun a half circle throwing his hands in the air. The human aspects of investigations were always cumbersome and inefficient. For a man as robotic as Roslin Tanner, this was proving to be difficult to deal with. Bob Cat reaffirmed the request by placing his wide frame between Demo and Roslin’s frustration.

“The boy needs a break. I suggest you give it to him.”

Roslin wrung his hands in frustration.

“Fine, have it your way. But if anyone dies while you’re taking your little siesta, it’s on you!”

Demo got out of his chair, giving Bob Cat a look that said to let it go. Still feeling exhausted by his mind trip, he headed for the exit.

“If I’m right, we’re already dead. We just don’t know it yet.”

The comment shook Roslin from his self-indulgence and back into the crude reality that they were all at risk. Wearing a somber mask, he quietly escorted them out.

On the way home it became apparent that they were being followed. The standard, unmarked car manned by two large men in shades stayed closely behind Demo and Bob Cat.

Could these guys be any more obvious?

They were Roslin’s guys, Demo was sure. Roslin was becoming more and more of a threat. A man so bent on attaining success could be capable of being very destructive; especially if something got in his way.

“Where we heading, Demo? I mean, seeing as I’ve got nowhere to be . . .”

Demo gazed out the window. He knew that Bob Cat was trying to assume his habitually cool self but that on the inside he was a veritable squall of emotions.

“I need to eat. All this puking my guts out has left me starved.”

Bob Cat smiled and instinctively reached for his gum, only to find an empty packet. Bob Cat was nervous.

“I know a place; we’ll stop by and grab something.”

Demo nodded without speaking. He had begun to actively think things through. Spencer had told him a lot without saying much of anything. The world he had created was a partial truth mixed with an imaginative, sadistic boldness. But what had struck him most was Spencer’s demeanor. An uncaring, uncontrollable, insubordinate, self-justifying jerk—but a jerk that enjoyed praise—praise that could only come from someone even more sinister. Spencer was the puppet; the puppet master was still to be found. It had become clear to Demo that even with the absence of Spencer (due to his forced gurney vacation), the man behind the curtain was still pulling the strings. The question that made his heart shriek with terror was whether the master was now teaching someone new. He needed to put an end to this soon before the blood legacy was out of their control completely.

When they pulled up to the drive-thru window, Bob Cat ordered half the menu along with a horse trough of soda. When he looked at Demo for some input on the situation, he only received a vacant stare in return.

“I hate it when you do this crap. I never know what’s going on in that noggin of yours.”

, Bob Cat went ahead and ordered for Demo, his usual plain chicken sandwich with fries, and a half-and-half mixture of coke and Dr. Pepper. At the pick-up window Demo had an epiphany. Maybe he was doing this all wrong. Maybe chasing the killer directly was a horrible idea. Playing the killer’s game on his terms was a poor plan. This murderer was good; perhaps too good. But his apprentice, the active hands staging his theatric scenes of horror? They would be a chink in his armor.

“Sir, did you want cocky sauce with that?”

Demo shook his head. He glanced over at the older women handing them their bagged food with cigarette smoke stained hands. A rash near her ring finger that had been rubbed raw made him glad she wasn’t the cook.

The degrading nature of the job was etched in her face. Demo was fixated on her. As usual, his answer was inappropriate and off topic.

“You should quit this job. Seriously . . . just do it. No one should ever have to ask people if they want cocky sauce. Oh, and that guy’s no good. You deserve better.

The woman’s eyes grew into two full moons. She thrust her arm out of the drive-thru window dropping a bag into Bob Cat’s lap. Her lower lip quivered as if she might cry. But to their amazement she began to nod.

“You’re right. You’re right! I’ve been slaving away here for years while my old man sits at home watching football. Says he can’t find no work! Well, I’ve got a job for him! Thanks for the advice. I think I’ll take it!”

Demo ignored the woman as he rummaged around in the bag for his sandwich. She handed a bewildered Bob Cat their drinks and slammed the window shut without another word. As they drove off Bob Cat just shook his head.

“They put the damn sauce on it! I didn’t want any sauce! Why can’t I ever remember to ask for no sauce?”

Bob Cat looked at Demo and then at the bag of food between them, then back at Demo who was pouting.

“Mind telling me what that was all about? You practically had that lady singing for you and I know you’ve never even met.”

Demo wiped off the sauce on his chicken sandwich with a napkin.

“Well . . . there was the obvious, and then there was the rash on her ring finger.”

Bob Cat blinked slowly.

“Okay . . . I’m not following.”

Demo swallowed a fry.

“The rash was from playing with her ring. Up and down it must have gone a thousand times . . . she was thinking about whoever gave it to her and didn’t know if she should stay or go.”

“So, you got all of that from truck-stop Jenny’s ring?”

Demo shrugged, biting off a chunk of his now sauce barren sandwich. Once he finished chewing, he answered nonchalantly,

“Nah, mostly I just guessed.” He shoved another French fry into his mouth.

Bob Cat’s rolled his eyes dramatically.

“You really are a lunatic. You better not be playing your little guessing game with any of this other shite.”

Demo smiled.

“Let’s head to my place. We’ve got decades of murder cases to look through.”

Bob Cat nodded and stepped on the gas.

The pair made their way to Demo’s rundown apartment with no further small talk. When they arrived, Bob Cat saw that the door had been carelessly left open. Sadly, it didn’t surprise him. Inside was a festering mess that could have easily been on the verge of spawning new life.

“Oh, for the love of mercy! Would you at least get a maid!” grumbled Bob Ca, pinching his nose.

“Sorry. I don’t really think about that kind of stuff . . . you know how it is.”

Shaking his head, Bob Cat scrummaged around the wasteland of a kitchen until he produced a broom and a mop.

“You do yours and I’ll do mine.”

Feeling slightly guilty, Demo grinned sheepishly.

“I’ll make it up to you, Bobby. I promise.”

“You can make it up to me by ending this nightmare.”

Demo slumped into his computer chair. .

“You got that memory stick?”

Bob Cat rummaged through his pockets and then tossed it at Demo’s head.

“Hey! Be careful! This thing is extremely important!”

Bob Cat chuckled.

“Seems like a waste of time to me. What you gonna find on there that you don’t already know?”

Leaving Bob Cat to his cleaning frenzy, Demo powered on his dusty machine. Inserting the device into the computer, he was hit with an informational bad dream—decades of terror and murder, case after case, all seemingly unconnected—an athlete, a broadcaster, a city bus driver, the governor’s son, ad nauseam. He looked over every detail, stretching his mind to try to find a link; purpose, sanctification, purity, sacrifice, justice; justice being the common thread that seemed to tie the filthy grime of malicious theatrics together. And what would fuel someone to continue for so long? What kind of world had created this monster?

Demo leaned back in his dingy chair, which squeaked helplessly under his weight. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the intense fatigue from having no sleep and so little to eat. He glanced over at Bob Cat was curled up on the couch, snoring away. He envied him his ability to shut his brain off and be somewhat normal. That particular talent had eluded Demo his entire life. Looking around the room he could see the absolute precedent he was setting for his pathetic home life. He really needed to get out and try being human again. Something suddenly caught his eye; a small flimsy picture frame that sat front and center on his coffee table.

That’s not mine . . .

Standing up timidly, he soft stepped over and picked it up. A much younger, livelier version of him stared back, dressed proudly head to toe in the Academy’s best. Next to him, the harrowing image of a friend long lost was sarcastically smiling back. The day was as fresh to him as the day of it happened. The years hadn’t taken the sting out at all.

Why would you leave this? Why bring this memory back?

Demo’s once safe harbor, however chaotic it was too others, now felt lost at sea. Someone had been inside his house; someone who’d had free run of his place and left a photograph that screamed for his attention. He needed to keep moving.

“Bobby . . . Bobby, wake up!”

Demo stood over the dozing sack of man and shook him roughly.

“Bobby, I need you to get up now!”

Bob Cat grumbled a stew of vocabulary sludge before begrudgingly opening his eyes.

“Demo, what is it? It’s the middle of the blooming night.”

Demo paced back and forth, still holding the flimsily framed picture in one of his hands.

“It’s Mike, Bobby. The killer knows about Mike. He knows about me, and he probably knows about you. He’s probably watching every move we make!”

Bob Cat snapped into a more stable position.

“Slow it down, Demo. You’ve got your quills up. Now, tell me again what you’re trying to say?”

Demo flung the photo onto Bob Cat’s lap. Bob Cat inspected it carefully.

“That’s you? You look like you’re ten years old! And that’s Mike? But what’s he got to do with anything? He’s . . . well, dead.”

Demo shook his head wildly.

“I don’t know. This guy is messing with us. He’s obviously spent a lifetime perfecting his craft and is using it now to dissect us. I can’t keep up with this sick freak. Every time I feel like I’m getting closer, he digs out another chunk of me.”

Bob Cat stood up angrily, firmly grasping the photo.

“Then maybe it’s time we start doing the digging. Maybe it’s time we start breaking some rules. If they aren’t gonna play nice, why should we?”

Demo paused. Staring down at his mildew infested carpet he knew what they needed to do. He had planned on trying to do it the right way, but now the stakes were too high. This killer was eloquent, calculated, and demented. And judging by the information that had been force-fed into Demo’s mind, it was obvious to him that the murdering wasn’t going to stop.

“Smash n’ grab.”

Bob Cat looked befuddled at Demo’s outlandish comment.

“Smash and what?”

“Smash n’ grab; that’s what they call it, isn’t it? We head over to the courthouse, break in, take what we need, and then get the hell out. Otherwise, we’re never gonna get into that place—you know all about the red tape— and don’t forget the Mar’s effect.”

Bob Cat snorted in anger.

“That weasel in a suit. I’d love to catch him alone in a dark alley with a dumpster his size.”

“Easy, Bobby—that’s what they want us to do—they want us to keep being who they know us to be. They expect you to bruise someone up and for me to keep playing nice with Roslin and his goons. We need to disrupt the flow; we need to not be us.”

Bob Cat bobbed his head up and down as he agreed with each sentence line-by-line.

“Hell, that sounds mighty good to me. I’d prefer breaking the rules anyway. ’Bout time you took the short leash off me.”

“Let’s go visit and see what turns up. I’ll be looking for a lot more than just evidence of murder there, so I’ll need time to focus. And as we both know, prowling around a crime scene at night can get a little sketchy.”

Bob Cat thumped the side of his hip.

“I can erase any sketchy real quick with a few rounds in the right place.”

Demo smiled mischievously; they were back in action.

“Only one problem, Bobby . . . how do we get out of here without being noticed? Last I checked those guys never clock out.”

Bob Cat let out a devilish smile of his own.

“That apartment next to yours still vacant after that old hag finally croaked?”

“Yes, it is. Why?”

“Don’t you worry about that if there’s one thing I excel at, it’s creating a proper distraction.” said Bob Cat.

They went down the fire escape ladder, doing their best to distance themselves from the smoldering building Plumes of smoke poured from the side of the apartment building and streamed into the night air. Promptly the entire area erupted in commotion; fire alarms, screams of panic, and screeching fire trucks filled the air.

“Bobby, I thought you said it was just going to be a little Boy Scout fire?”

Bob Cat shrugged and reached for another rung of the rusty ladder that was leading them down to a dark alley.

“It was a couple metal trash cans filled with garbage, carefully stoked. It’ll be fine . . . those guys are professionals.”

“But what about my apartment? It looks like it’s getting out of control. What about my stuff?”

Bob Cat looked at Demo with disappointment.

“Demo, your stuff is garbage. Besides, it’d take more than a fire to clean your nasty place out.”

Demo wanted to cry. Why he had agreed to use Bob Cat’s tactics was now well beyond any logic he could muster.

“That poor old lady . . . It was vacant, right?”

Bob Cat rolled his eyes.

“For the love of sweet mercy, would you just let it go? The place was vacant! I checked and all I saw was an old litter box.”

“I think that was the super’s cat! I vaguely remember him saying something about using that place to keep the odor out of his room.”

Both men soberly looked up at the ever growing clouds of smoke. Bob Cat drew a cross over his heart with one of his free hands.

“Oh, mercy . . . that’s gonna be one flaming feline . . .”

As they approached the bottom, they let go of the rusty scaffolding from an uncomfortable height. They landed forcefully, both getting the wind knocked out of them.

“In case of fire, stop, drop, and—”

“Roll . . .” grunted Demo.

“If the fire don’t kill you, that stupid thing will,” he continued, looking back up from whence they’d come.

“We need to move. These guys are good and it won’t take them long to realize that nobody’s home.”

Bob Cat nodded and they sped down the dark alley.

“You got a direction we can nab a cab?”

“I reverse looked him up but found almost nothing. This guy preferred working in the dark. But I know someone who does and she’ll be tickled to hear from us.”

Bob Cat stopped dead.

“Oh no, Demo, we ain’t gonna call her at this hour. Are you out of your blooming mind? She’ll hang the both of us by our man parts just for even mentioning this.”

Demo shrugged.

“We don’t have any other choice. Besides, you always had a way with Jacky. If anything, she’ll be happy to know we’re being completely insubordinate to Roslin.”

Bob Cat spat on the ground.

“I should have taken my chances back there in the room with the flaming feline.”

But it had to be done. Stealthily, they moved through the shadows before hailing a cab a few blocks away. Once inside, Demo motioned for Bob Cat to keep quiet. The last thing he wanted was for Bob Cat to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Jacky and Bob Cat got along together like an arsonist in a room full of dynamite.

“What, you don’t think I can handle myself?”

Demo shushed Bob Cat again. The phone rang only once before being picked up. The immediate response caught Demo, who was caught in a stupor of thought, completely off guard. Jacky, however, was as razor sharp as ever.

“Demo, is that really you? You’ve got real nerve calling me at this hour after going who knows how long without saying a word!”

The phone slowly distanced itself from Demo’s ear as the yelling grew stronger in fervor. A literal dictionary of curse words and life ending threats came out of the phone’s speaker. Demo glanced at Bob Cat who looked as smug as ever.

“Man, do I love a woman who can sweet talk,” he whispered just loud enough for Jacky to pause.

“Is Bobby with you? I’ve been through hell and high water these past few days and you two idiots are having a slumber party and making prank phone calls? Tell me where you are so I can have Martinez shoot you both!”

Taking a deep breath, Demo attempted to calm the storm in the only way he knew how; blatant honesty.

“That’s what I was going to tell you. We’re still working the case. We’re going to break-in and look over Mr. Randal’s apartment. Thing is, and this is funny, really . . . we don’t know where he lives.”

Bob Cat slapped the back of Demo’s head.

“What’s wrong with you? She’s the last person on earth you should be spouting dumb to and there you go all willy-nilly.”

“Jacky, I’m sorry, but this thing is bigger than we thought. Playing by the rules isn’t getting us anywhere and we need to kick this up a notch. We need to get into that house one way or another. You can say it was all our idea and that you had no involvement. As far as I’m concerned, this phone call never happened.”

“You’re damn skippy it never happened! This is all on you two idiots, and I’ll swear that right up to the firing squad! And another thing, just where have you been? Word on the street is your Roslin’s favorite new toy, Demo. So, what exactly is going on there?”

Bob Cat started to answer her but was cut briskly off by Demo, who slowly swung his head back and forth. This served as a quick reminder of what they had sworn they wouldn’t do. And besides, their deal with the devil had serious implications if they shared information. The consequences could be dire. So they sat silently for an awkward minute to let the soon-to-come lies percolate. Lying was never Demo’s strength, but it came quite naturally to his partner.

“I got a divorce, Jacky. I’ve been wallowing around like a pig for a while and drinking away my sorrows. Demo’s been keeping an eye on me while we followed some leads. It’s mostly my fault.”

“I’m sorry, Bobby. I didn’t know it was that bad. You should have told me sooner.”

Bob Cat stared at the back of the seat in front of him.

“Doesn’t matter . . . you’ll listen to Demo if you know what’s good for you.

“So . . . let me get this straight . . . you want me to give you the address, so you can break in and take what you think you need to solve the case? And on top of that, you want me to do it even after you divulged your idiotic plan to me? Have you guys been drinking?”

Demo shook his head and Bob Cat let out a muffled chuckle under his breath. Jacky went silent. Demo was about to ask her if she was still there when she spoke.

“Look, boys . . . I haven’t been exactly honest with you. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t utter a word but I think you have a right to know. We’ve already solved the case.”

Demo practically dropped his phone He ran back outside. Bob Cat followed behind him and pointed at the cab driver.

“Hey, you—don’t go anywhere—we’re not done here.”

Demo began pacing wildly while he whispered into his phone.

“What do you mean solved? There’s more to this thing! There is no way it’s been solved.”

Demo listened intently. He could hear Jacky taking several long, drawn-out breaths; she was preparing him for the letdown.

“It’s done, Demo. We found prints, we found a motive, and so this one is heading to the books.”

Demo slammed the phone against his side. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What motive, Jacky? What are you talking about?”

A heavy sigh came before the answer.

“We tested the blood and swept the scenes for prints and everything came back positive for Randall. The blood belonged the soon to be witness and the prints were those of Mr. Kevin Randall. And on his kitchen table he left a letter incriminating himself further. He even explained how he did it, right down to the finest detail. . It’s just a pity he’s dead. I would have loved to watch him hang; just another pathetic copycat trying to find a place in history.”

Demo’s insides churned—this was wrong; very wrong—could they possibly believe that this had all been a one man show.

“Jacky, he was just a pawn. He’s not the one you want! That guy was taking orders. He was just the fall man. You’ve got to trust me; this thing isn’t over! You’re doing exactly what he wants us to. He wants us to believe! He wants us to play his game!”

“Damn it, Demo! I don’t work like you do. I follow rules; real rules in the real world. I can’t just go off of your hunches. I need solid evidence. Don’t you think I’ve stewed over this a thousand times? I’ve lost more sleep over this thing than all of you combined. But the facts are the facts. And this guy was practically dripping evidence from every pore. . The witch hunt’s over, Demo. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

Anger welled up in Demo’s gut. He didn’t want to hear any more. He knew that this was exactly what he would have done if he were a master puppeteer.

“Just get me to his place, Jacky. I know he wasn’t working alone. He can’t be. If I get there and can’t find a molecule to support my theory, then fine, expunge me from your memory and let’s be done with this. We can all pretend it’s over and hope for the best. But I’m not going to let one more person die while I’m still on this!”

“Tell me then, Demo, how do you know? What do you have that you’re keeping from me? What are you hiding? This isn’t how it used to be with us.”

Demo hung his head. His twisted family was falling apart. All this secrecy came at a price. He was going to lose Jacky.

“Nothing, Jacky . . . I’m . . . I’m not hiding anything.”

He knew it was obvious that he was lying. So obvious in fact, that even though she didn’t let on, he knew he’d cut Jacky deeply; the image of her looking away, trying to hide her pain and tears, streamed dead center in his mind.

“Consider this your last favor. As far as I’m concerned, we’re done. I’m not going to put myself on the line for someone who lies to me point blank.”

Demo’s heart was breaking. That was the last thing he’d wanted to hear, and yet he knew it was coming. You can only dance with the devil so long before becoming his partner. They had officially lost Jacky.

The phone clicked off. Bob Cat walked put his arm carefully around Demo’s back.

“She’ll understand, buddy. It’s better this way; she doesn’t need this on her plate.”

Demo’s phone buzzed with a message from Jacky. She had come through with her end of the deal.

“Bobby, I don’t know what’s better anymore. I feel like I’m losing myself to this. I don’t know what I’m becoming.”

Bob Cat slowly nodded his head before heading back to the cab.

“It’s like you said, we’re in too deep now. Way I figure it, I’m either going to die trying, or die fighting. But I ain’t letting up on this bastard.”

Demo felt himself sink. This case was an absolute nightmare.

“Let’s hurry things up. Roslin’s boys won’t be blind to us much longer.”

Not one to argue, Demo let himself into the cab behind him.

The address was nothing special. No evil mansion, no lone house in the woods, just a plain apartment in the slummy part of town. As the cab pulled up, a few drifters scattered this way and that like roaches caught in the light. This was the stomping ground of addicts, homeless people, and characters that could make the devil cringe. Going up the seemingly endless flight of stairs, one thing stuck to Demo; the building’s age. It was lacking almost every modern convenience conceivable. . Stomping up the stairs they finally reached the thirteenth floor.

“Thirteenth floor . . . lucky us,” said Bob Cat sarcastically.

Demo examined the text message carefully.

“It says 13E . . . gotta be somewhere at the end of the hall.”

Bob Cat instinctively pulled out his pistol and held it at the ready.

“Never know what might pop out in one of these places.”

Walking down the hallway, weird smells and noises set the mood. Who knew what travesties hid behind these doors? But for now they only had time to hunt one monster and one was plenty. Finding the right door, Demo foolishly turned the knob.

“Locked . . .”

“Of course it’s locked, Demo; not everyone leaves their doors wide open.”

Bob Cat approached the door then meticulously scanned the hallway looking for any signs of life. Quietly, he removed the yellow tape that had been placed over the door along with the warnings of tampering with a crime scene. Then with the force of a bull dozer he plowed into the scrappy obstacle. With a loud thud and a crack, it broke open flinging a small brass lock to the floor.

“Now, that felt good!” he exclaimed.

Demo looked down the hall, expecting someone to come rushing out because of the random eruption of noise. But apparently, at least in this neighborhood, it took a lot more to get people out of bed.

“Let’s go, Bobby.”

Demo’s scarecrow-like body was shadowed by the wide mountain that was Bob Cat. Together, they were a living, breathing example of ying and yang in action. As they crept slowly forward into the dark apartment, Demo found a light switch and flicked it on. Immediately, the entirety of the tiny apartment lit up. Both men gasped.

“This place is so . . . clean. It’s organized . . . well put together.”

Bob Cat gnawed on his cheek nervously.

“You’re right, Demo. I ain’t seen a place this put together since Roslin’s fun house.”

They split up to more quickly inspect the place. Generic books, unopened junk mail, and a mundane collection of movies—nothing about this apartment stuck out in any way—in fact, it was so normal it was freaky.

“It’s like this guy crash landed in the ghetto from some other planet. Why would he choose to live here?”

“Maybe he’s been sucked dry and had to start over. I can feel for him there,” said Bob Cat, picking up a family photo.

“That’s strange. Look at this picture.”

Demo approached Bob Cat cautiously. He was still leery of someone popping in on them.

“Doesn’t this look a little off? Here’s this guy with his wife and kids . . . only the wife looks out of place.”

Taking the photo from Bob Cat, Demo scanned it for any telling details. It looked like the ideal family, sitting on a soft bed of grass in front of a very quaint home. But the woman was definitely out of place; at least her photo was. The shading, the lighting, and even the choice of clothes were odd.

“It’s like he photo shopped her in. Why would the freak do something like that?” asked Bob Cat.

Demo paused as an acidic bubble rose up through his throat and burst. He had just been hit with an extreme case of acid reflux generated by sudden anxiety.

“Bobby, you remember the barn? You remember that horrible machine with the dead judge and ashes?”

Bob Cat’s complexion blanched.

“You’re not telling me that . . .”

Demo nodded.

“I think we found the connection we were looking for. A family torn apart by some perceived evil—in this case, I’m assuming his late wife—purified by flame. This sick freak kept on living the lie that everything was fine, right up to the point of photo shopping another woman into his family photo. Putting her there made it complete; made him complete. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Bob Cat put the photo down gently..

“Those poor kids . . .”

They continued to look for anything that Jackie’s team, or anyone else for that matter, might have missed. They had done a marvelous job of scrubbing the man’s house down for any shred of evidence. It was no wonder Jacky had told him that the case was as good as over. So, why would a man so meticulous, leave so much behind? To Demo’s mind there was only one answer; he was told to. The man was being guided down the dark path and it had consumed him and his family. And the lamp that lit his way was held by evil manifest in its purest form. The same evil that Demo was now sure had guided Spencer all those years. But what was the connection? What was this man’s connection to not only the mysterious puppeteer, but to the murdered mobster? What did Kevin Randall know that made him worthy of such a dark crusade? Demo needed to find more answers. He needed something tangible to help make his point. But the room just wasn’t helping him.

“I’m not seeing anything out of the ordinary, aside from that photograph, Demo. This place is a desolate desert.”

Demo agreed silently, feeling frustration swell up inside of him.

This can’t be it! You’re not the man in charge; you’re a peon. You make mistakes, you deserve to be punished.

“That’s it! He was being punished!”

Bob Cat’s face scrunched tightly in confusion.

“Please, catch the rest of us up?”

“Sorry, it just occurred to me. The man was being punished that day on the courthouse steps. He said that he didn’t believe and had been warned. His cruel master must have had enough. So the question is why was he punished?”

Bob Cat grinned.

“Because he’s a hole in a donkey’s backside?”

“No, Bobby, you gotta be serious. In this man’s head whoever was manipulating him was like a god. He followed him without question. But he was torn; torn between the love for his false god and the love of—”

Bob Cat finished for him.

“His family.”

Both men sat silently for a moment to let it sink in.

“That explains the symbolism left in the ashes and all the effort he put in. His family wasn’t part of the plan. But wait . . . that’s not right—her photo’s gone, her image removed—No, that’s not fitting.”

Bob Cat looked on while Demo searched his mind, trying desperately to think of somethinghe might have missed.

“The children . . . the children weren’t part of the plan. He’d taken it too far and relinquished his entire family rather than the single perpetrator who deserved it, the doer of wicked deeds. He’d disobeyed his master, and for doing so would never see the light of another day. That’s got to be it!”

A look of befuddlement washed over Bob Cat’s face. Sometimes Demo’s rants made him feel crazy.

“What does it all mean then? What are you rambling about?”

Taking a deep breath, Demo continued.

“The last time I was inside Spencer’s mind and finally found him, he was a brutal, calculated killer. He had all the telltale signs of a four star psychopath. But he also thirsts for praise, for appreciation of his abilities. You take a man like that, and pair him with an equally devious mastermind, and you’ve created the legacy of murder we all know. But Spencer went missing—turned up on the wrong side of town—and now he’s Roslin’s pet hamster. So now the puppet master needs a new set of hands to carry out his work. He goes looking and turns up this sicko. Only this nutbag still had a shred of humanity left that he just couldn’t let go of. He then disobeys his master by going rogue, and performs his own version of crazy. And that ends that. The puppeteer has to move on. He lets it all fall on his damned ex-pupil, and he disappears back into society like nothing ever happened. No doubt he’s already started looking for his next protégé.”

Bob Cat looked sick to his stomach.

“Demo, this is heavy. You sure this guy didn’t do it all by himself just to get attention?”

Demo placed a finger on each of his temples before humming aloud. He was trying to concentrate on the flashing pieces of puzzle that were snapping together to give him a clearer picture. The incurable sickness he contracted by assimilating the killer’s persona into his own was telling him so.

“I know it, Bobby. You’ve just got to trust me. This is exactly what happened every other time to his victims in the decades past. The cops always think it’s a copycat or coincidence and move on. But this time things have changed.”

“How so?”

“Now they have me on their side.”

Demo dropped to the floor without warning and began crawling around like a diseased dog. Bob Cat sat silently in place watching Demo do what he does..

“If I’m the pupil, I’m going to make mistakes. I need my selfish indulgences. I need my space. I’m organized, motivated, and rearing to go. I’m an ideal candidate for this apprenticeship, but I’m still learning. I’m going to hide things for my own pleasure.”

Demo shimmied around the floor feeling it carefully with his hands. It looked like complete lunacy until he yelped with joy.

“And Dingo was his name-O.”

Bob Cat approached him from behind carefully examining what Demo had found.

“I don’t see anything; just the floor, a wall, and a cabinet. But you know it’s Bingo, right?”

Demo ran his hands over the seemingly smooth surface.

“Who’s Bingo?”

“Never mind . . . what did you find? I’m tired of being in this crap hole.”

Demo stood up and pried his fingers into the small crack behind the large cabinet.

“Help me pry this thing off the wall.”

Bob Cat disappeared from sight.

“Hey! Bobby, come and help me!”

“Move!” Bob Cat yelled, wielding a solid metal shovel.

He stuffed it forcefully between the cabinet and the wall. A loud series of squeaks screamed at them as nail by nail the cabinet broke away from the wall.

“I hope you know what you’re doing . . . this ain’t exactly easy,” huffed Bob Cat, still pushing on the shovel.

“Trust me. The signs are all there. This thing has been moved many times before.”

With one last crack the cabinet came free from the wall. Cat jumped back it plummeted to the floor with a massive thud.

“Sure hope these people think Santa Claus is paying an early visit. I’d have blown our heads off by now.”

Behind the cabinet was a disgusting collage of stains, each with its own distinct color and odor. But there was also a board; a board that had been purposefully placed to cover a hole thatwas just big enough for a full grown man to crawl through.

“If you’d be so kind . . .”

Bob Cat obligingly ripped the board free with one strong pull.

Taking a breath, Demo plunged his head through the newly exposed opening.

“It’s pretty dark, but I can see some pipes and there’s enough space for me to climb down.”

Demo shot a hand into his pocket and brought out his cell phone. Swaying it back and forth for light, he plotted a route and began jerking his body through the hole.

“You sure you got this, Demo? You never were the physical one.”

“I’ve got it, Bobby. I’ve climbed on worse things than some old pipes.”

Demo’s words proved to be poorly chosen; the second his weight landed the pipe gave and he tumbled into the dark.

“Demo!” screamed Bob Cat, sticking his head further inside the hole.

A moment passed followed by another, but then a tiny gleam of light started moving about. Demo rubbed the back of his head while taking deep gulps of dusty, stale air.

“That was a lot easier in my mind.”

“What’s did you say?”

“Nothing . . . I must have slipped.”

Demo’s pride had been discreetly obliterated. His more adventurous self would just have wait for the Fathom. Looking around the space he had fallen into, he discovered something horrendous; a shrine made out of evidence had been carefully erected beneath the floor of the deceased zealot. Newspaper articles documenting the missing persons, maps of locations, photographs, and schedules were marked with lines and arrows pointing this way and that; but one stood out above the rest. Right dead center was an article that hit Demo squarely in the gut:

Recently arrested Carmine Burke, believed to have ties to the mob, has agreed to a plea bargain on behalf of the party of interest. Mr. Burke claims that the information he can provide will lead to the capture of the infamous blood legacy murders killer. Mr. Burke is being transported to a safe house as part of the witness protection program.

Words of hate scrawled in pen filled the article with tiny arrows pointing towards a photo that had been carefully glued on. Demo assumed it was of the man written about in the article. But even more interesting, was the fact that the photo wasn’t alone. Next to it was a photo of a beautiful woman whose eyes had been meticulously gouged out. More hateful words surrounded it:

LIAR, CHEATER, WHORE, SLUT

Demo sat back. It was beginning to make sense. The only problem was that it all pointed to Kevin Randall. Randall’s wife was no doubt involved with Carmine, hence the lewd language. The dead Judge had been involved with Randall’s divorce, his loss. Carmine was involved with the dark underworld. But who would have leaked anything to Carmine? Who would have been so careless in an otherwise perfect scheme? .

“You clever, clever psycho . . .”

Closing his eyes, he looked through his internal files—the witness, the judge, the mobsters and the cops protecting them, artistry of the most heinous nature, dastardly deeds committed in poetic overtures—this was unreal.

“You say something, Demo?”

Demo wondered how long the man had spent sitting right where he was sitting now. How many hours had he stewed away in the darkness before letting it consume him whole?

“Did you find something? I’m getting awful lonely up here in Mr. Whackadoodle’s apartment.”

Demo placed one of his hands over his face. The bitter cold reminded him where he was.

“Bobby, I’ll need some help getting out of here. I think I hit the jackpot. It seems that Mr. Kevin Randall was far more human than I’d expected.”

The bunt end of the shovel dangled down into the dim light of Demo’s cell phone.

“Grab this and I’ll fish ya out.”

Demo grabbed the shovel handle and held onto it tightly. Using his other free hand, he grasped at the pipes, trying to push himself up with Bob Cat’s aid. At the top he wriggled like a fish on a hook to get back through the hole in the wall.

“You didn’t bring anything back with you? What was the point of this then? If you just wanted me to smash through a wall, there were a lot of places much closer than this.”

Shaking his head, Demo let loose of the shovel.

“We’ve got to put it all back. Back together as well as we can.”

Bob Cat’s head practically spun off his body.

“Why? Who cares? We just torched a place and you’re worried about cleaning up?”

Demo nodded with animation.

“Exactly! That’s exactly the point! No one can know we were here. No one can know what we know. We do things wrong, we break the rules, but nobody knows it but us. You and Jacky are the only two people I trust. As far as I’m concerned, anyone else is a potential accomplice; or even the murderer himself. Also, we need to talk about your distraction methods because I’m almost positive we’re both officially fugitives now.”

Bob Cat snorted loudly.

“Better to be in prison than out here anyways. And I think you’ve forgotten the door . . . So what’s our next move? Wait around to see if he shows back up?”

Snapping his fingers, Demo began walking towards the door.

“I need to get back to Spencer. I need to use the Fathom again. He’s got the missing keys to some doors I need to unlock. But now that I’ve affirmed an idea that I had there, I’ll be ready for him. And you’re right about the door; let’s hope no one notices it’s been opened. I’m sure there’s got to be a looter or two around here they can blame.”

“You really are some special kind of freak, Demo. Never cease to amaze.”

The men smiled but only for a fraction of a second. An abrupt noise from somewhere outside the door opened their adrenaline valves.

“What was that?” whispered Demo, looking out into the hallway.

“A peeping Tom looking for trouble is my guess. Here, take my gun; who knows what I’ll do if I have it? Besides, I need to relieve some stress.”

Leaving his gun with a stupefied Demo, Bob Cat immediately sprang into action. Demo wasted no time trying to follow. They ran out through the busted door, sweeping across the small apartment with purpose. If someone had been

eavesdropping on them they needed to know who and why. Stepping into the apartment building hallway, they saw the silhouette of man darting around the corner heading for the stairs.

“Oh, no, you don’t! Time to give someone the beating of a lifetime,” grumbled Bob Cat, picking up an almost illogical amount of speed for his size.

As they continued in their pursuit of the man, it became increasingly apparent that Demo’s actual endurance was far less admirable than he’d imagined. His lungs felt like firecrackers were being exploding inside him with each breath. But he needed to keep up. He knew that Bob Cat had a way of letting himself come unglued. Keeping his focus on Bob Cat’s back, he thought about all the possibilities as to who they might be chasing. It was a game against time to decide who it was before Bob Cat snatched him up by the neck and showed Demo that he’d been correct.

Suddenly, Bob Cat disappeared down a flight of rusted stairs. The pounding of feet against metal echoed off of the aged cement walls. Demo’s lackluster speed meant he was losing distance. Bob Cat, however, was narrowing the gap between him and the man in the shadows quickly. It was astounding just how quick Bob Cat could move if given the right motivation. Even considering the years of nasty fast food, soda, and cigarettes the man could still shake a leg.

Groaning and moaning, Demo finally reached the bottom of the stairs. Briefly, he looked back up and realized they had gone all the way back down to the ground level. Being someone who normally never burns more calories than his shoe size, this was an astronomical feat. But he had to keep moving. He’d lost sight of Bob Cat and the last thing he needed was to be caught alone without his muscle. Swallowing a mixture of sweat and acid, he pressed on. As he burst into the alley he could see that Bob Cat was almost completely on top of the once fleeing man. Demo winced as he imagined the pain Bob Cat was about to inflict on the poor guy. A wall of bricks made of man falling on top of you couldn’t be pleasant.

The sound of two men scuffling back and forth filled the otherwise silent corridor. Bob Cat was fully pressing his advantage. The other man let out tiny squeaks of pain and desperation while getting pounded by Bob Cat’s hammer like fists.

“I said stop, for the last blooming time!”

Bob Cat was now firmly on top of the man in question, his mountainous frame pinning the man down with ease. Without thinking, Demo pointed the gun at the man on the ground, but not before fumbling around nervously while trying to get his fingers in the right place. Bob Cat blush in embarrassment. Demo tried to recover by using one of the brashest tones he could muster.

“You heard the man! Stop or I’ll shoot!”

The man stopped his worm-like wriggling as he was told. Approaching slowly, Demo put the gun down and replaced it with his mobile phone. Using it illuminate the man’s face, their heartbeats both accelerated.

“Mars? Mars, what in the world are you doing here?”

On seeing who had just assaulted him, his expression went from terrified to obnoxious and proud.

“I should be asking you two morons the same! Now would ya get this stinking guerilla off of me, please?”

Demo nodded at Bob Cat who reluctantly pushed off, making sure to dig his knee deep into Mar’s torso as stood up.

“Are you sure we can’t just kill him and put him in the trash where he belongs?”

Mar’s face shifted ever slightly at the alarming threat. After taking a bruising from Bob Cat, he no longer doubted his angry statements. But Mars was Mars, so he did what he always did best; threaten legal action.

“I’m going to have you both locked up for life! I’ll put you in so deep you’ll never get out! You’re both dead! You hear me? Dead!”

Demo shook his head at the ridiculous temper tantrum he was witnessing. But an elephant-sized question remained; just what was Mars doing here?

“Dead or not, you’ve got some explaining to do!” exclaimed Bob Cat, scooping to pick his gun up off the ground and place it back in its holster.

Mars looked around and came to the conclusion that another foot race was beyond reason. He was alone and vulnerable. Being the snake that he was, he needed to figure out how to slither away.

“I said start explaining!” Bob Cat growled, placing one of his hands firmly on Mars’ shoulder.

Mars slapped it away before pointlessly attempting to clean himself up.

“You know, that was a five-thousand dollar suit you just ruined. What’s that, like three times your yearly salary?”

Bob Cat glared at him menacingly.

“Fine, fine have it your way! You two will be behind bars anyway, so what’s it matter?” Smoothing a large chunk of his pampered hair back into place, he continued.

“You two pinheads honestly think you’re the only ones keeping tabs on things? I’m just ensuring my own legacy in this . . . nothing more than that.”

Demo scratched at his arm feeling the hairs suddenly stand up straight into the air. His lies were compelling, but still lies. The truth was obvious to Demo, who took a vicious stab at Mars.

“You filthy little liar! You’re tampering with the crime scene! You’ve been mucking up the case by altering the details!”

Mars straightened his back and moved his neck tightly back and forth as if adjusting a tie.

“Tampering is a little harsh. I prefer, keeping things in order so the right man wins.”

“And you’d be the right man?” spat Bob Cat in a thunderous voice.

Mars took a few steps backward exposing the impending doom he now feared.

“I don’t have to answer any of your questions. I’m not the idiot who broke down a crime scene door. Would it kill you to learn how to pick a lock?”

Bob Cat snarled like a tiger and stepped closer to Mars, sending him sprawling back into a cold, brick wall.

“Ya know, I usually don’t like to get my hands filthy by dealing with rats like you, but tonight I might make an exception.”

The situation was gravitating towards going from bad to worse. Demo had to do something.

“Shut up, both of you! And don’t move. I need some quiet time.”

Both men looked at Demo with complete confusion. Had they really just heard what they thought they’d heard?

“We can’t do anything to him and he can’t do anything to us.”

Bob Cat and Mars turned their attention to Demo.

“To hell I can’t. I’ll snap his scrawny neck!”

“Like to see you try, big boy!”

Demo clapped his hands together to get their attention back on being grown-ups.

“That’s it! You two are geniuses!”

They glanced at each other in confusion.

“What are you looning off about, Demo?” probed Bob Cat.

“Don’t you see? This whole process has rules, just like any other game. And it’s because of those rules that our killer did what he did. The kids, the man at the courthouse, the witness, and all the other victims are part of it. But you can’t kill just anyone; there are rules, order, commandments. He’s playing god.”

Mars and Bob Cat looked like two deer caught in the headlights. Demo’s insanity was becoming too weird for them to deal with.

“I’ll explain later. We need to move fast. As far as I’m concerned we’re all active players of this game now, and I’d hate to find out what happens when our turn is up.”

Mars looked like he had just swallowed a rotten egg whole. Was Demo really telling the truth or just ranting again?

“There’s one thing I know for sure. None of what we saw or did tonight better get out. If it does, it could mean an early exit for us.”

Bob Cat nodded, but Mars appeared more reluctant.

“And what if I talk? What if I decide to put the heater on blast? What could I possibly have to do with any of this? Why would anyone want to hurt me? And besides, they’ve already solved the case. I was just visiting to keep certain things in order.”

Demo looked right through Mars with a piercing stare.

“That’s not for you to decide. Anyone could be at risk. I feel like I’m getting closer which means he’s going to become more desperate. I’d hate to see what he’d do. So if you really think this case is cleaned up and closed, then by all means, go blow your horn. But if I’m right, you’ll be dead in a week.”

Mars looked at the sky. He was resiliently fighting the urge to be his usual fractious self. But deep down inside he was a self-preserving coward; a coward who realized that Demo or Bob Cat could very likely be dead in a week as well, and he could escape somewhere deep into the Bahamas. As a trickle of blood seeped out of his nose, he was starkly reminded of his own mortality.

“Fine, I’ll keep our little visit here hush hush and play nice, for now. But if you two dogs can’t find the right trail and it goes cold, then I’m making no promises. Nobody attacks me the way you did. Nobody! And let’s remember who really runs the courthouse around here.”

Bob Cat had had enough.

“Get out of here, you slimy maggot, before I change my mind!”

Mars sprinted away from them and headed down the dark alleyway and out of sight.

“You believe any of that shite he just spewed through his teeth?”

Demo shook his head.

“There’s no way of knowing what’s true with that man. For all we know he could be in on it. Our best hope is that we scared him enough to fear for his own life. But we’ve got work to do. If I’m right, this is going to be the quiet before the storm. There’s someone I need to talk to. Someone that could help me better understand this mess. I just hope he doesn’t turn us in.”

Bob Cat stared at the ground. Warily, he asked only one question.

“Who do you have in mind?”

Demo closed his eyes, doing his best to retrace his way back to the location where they had first met. It was the complete opposite of where he stood now.

“Lyle Ridding.”