Chapter IV
The first face I saw when I rolled over was Dr. Deleon’s and he looked very disturbed. He was speaking to three other men who all looked like him.
“Jed,” the youngest said and pointed with his chin. He turned and studied me. My heart sank but it was a distant feeling, like I was disconnected from my emotions.
“Her name was Frances Panek, she was a senior at St. Catherine’s Prep School and she was having an on line affair in a chat room with a seventeen year old boy who turned out to be a 40 year old pedophile,” he said, staring at me. In his hand, he held a folder and when he opened it, I saw the same scene in digital that I’d seen in my head.
There were other photos, several of different men and I pulled out the one of the blonde with gray eyes flat and enigmatic, thin lipped and handsome in a rugged, outdoorsy way.
“That’s him.” I did not touch the face, I could feel the waves of lust, anger and evil coming off the man’s soul.
“John Peter Lusk. The Lusk Killer. We caught him dumping the body where you said and when you said.”
“So you caught him?”
“He’s in custody. We searched his place and have found evidence of six other child murders. He was a coordinator at the school bus lines, had access to bus routes and children’s names and addresses. He had a list of future victims. You might not have saved Frances but you did 12 others, Cale.”
“Twelve?” I whispered, exhausted.
“Girls, boys, all under the age of 16. Most were around 12.”
“Now what?”
“First, you have to get well, Cale. Nothing can take place until you’re healed. But we’d like you to help us solve some open cases. In return, we’ll provide you with a safe place to live, medical and psychiatric care. If you track down and bring the killers to justice, you’ll make the feelings go away.”
“Promise?”
His face softened. “I want a promise from you, too, Cale.” I looked at him sidewise. “I want you to swear your most solemn oath that you won’t try to kill yourself without coming to me first and letting me talk to you.” I hesitated. He continued. “If I can’t change your mind, I won’t try to stop you.”
“Y‘all swear?” I asked. He nodded. “I swear by Grandpa’s tombstone on Boot Hill.” I crossed my fingers and swore, “I promise I won’t try to kill myself unless I talk to you first or so help me, cross my heart and hope to…die.”
He grabbed my pinky with his own and we twisted. I grinned and dropped my hands to my lap, looked at the folder he still had.
“Y‘all want me to look at that?”
“No. I want you to eat something, drink and do whatever thirteen year olds do when they’re happy.”
I looked at him sadly. “That ain’t gonna happen. Happy is something ain’t in my forecast. Gotta settle for content.”
He shook on that. “What do you want to eat?”
“Where am I?”
“Dallas General. Private room reserved for VIPs. There’s a guard outside your door and another at the elevators. You can’t sneak out and they know your face. You’ll find it somewhat more difficult to escape now, Cale. Besides, the hotel reported your incident to the papers and you made the news. We’re afraid that it will attract the attention of the man who took your family and he’ll come back for you.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. “Chicken fried steak. Mashed potatoes, cream gravy and corn.”
“You know its breakfast time? Might take some doing to get lunch served.”
“You’re the FBI,” I said. “Show them your gun.”
He laughed and the other agents looked startled.
My first meal was take-out from a diner down the street, chicken fried steak and all the trimmings. He ate with me and told me that he had never tried it before, had wondered what it was.
I didn’t answer him, being too busy shoveling food into my mouth and he stared in awe at the amount I put away and was looking for more. For dessert, I had a big bowl of pistachio ice cream with whipped cream, maraschino cherries and sprinkles. When I was done, I let out a long hard burp and rubbed my stomach.
“Can’t wait for lunch,” I announced and he laughed so hard he almost choked.
“They’re going to release you before then.”
“Where am I going?” I pushed the tray away and slipped out of the bed to look out the window. I was on the second floor and could see the massive Dallas/Ft. Worth overpass exchange that rose hundreds of feet into the air like a Sci-Fi movie set.
“We have a safe house out in the country. Or an apartment here in the city, in the FBI building.”
“City. I’ve had enough of the country.”
There was a knock at the door and we both turned to see who it was and another agent, one of the group that had been there when I woke up entered my room to Deleon’s ‘come in’. The agent’s eyes flickered briefly on me then he bent over Dr. Deleon and spoke into his ear. His face stilled and he looked thoughtful.
“Thank you, Mason. Will you see to it that Cale’s paperwork is expedited so he can leave as soon as possible? We have to go clothes shopping.”
“Yes, sir.”
He waited until the younger man was gone. “Patrolman Jensen,” he began and at my questioning look, “The police officer you warned two days ago?”
I nodded, scratching at my stomach. I had an uncomfortable feeling where this was going.
“He took your advice. Went back to get his vest, walked in on a convenience store robbery, took two in the chest and shot the perp on the way down. Without his vest and warning, he’d be dead.”
“Is he hurt?” I asked.
“Bruised. Sore. Grateful to you, he’s told a bunch of people about it.”
“I wish everyone would heed such warnings,” I muttered.
“Will you tell me how you see it?” he was curious.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, dangled my legs.
“Any clothes around?”
He pulled out my jeans and shirt from the closet and handed them to me.
“Underwear, socks, my Ropers?”
“In the closet. Aren’t you wearing your shorts?”
I peeked. Sure enough, my tighty whiteys were still on me. I pulled on my Wranglers and my shirt over my head. There were still blood stains on the cuffs and my wrists had gauze wrapped around them where I had torn them getting out of the restraints. I had Band-Aids on my hands where they had removed my IVs.
“Is there anything wrong with me? I mean, besides the normal thing wrong with me.”
“You have no new trauma, no wounds. You were just in shock, with a low blood pressure and a possible drug overdose. How you got out of the hospital and to that hotel is a total mystery. The doctor said he gave you enough Valium to knock out a horse.”
“They come to me. Stand in front of me until I see them. They look like they do when they’re dead---they wear the same thing, they have the same wounds. Sometimes, they take me to their death place. Sometimes I’m called to it, and sometimes I just find it.”
“How many times have you seen them?” He asked, curious and appalled.
“Four times, now.” I would not tell him about Ruby, my cousin. I could not share that with him.
“I know about Frances. Who else?”
“Pink socks, someone in the hospital in Austin. I saw them in the morgue, after but it wasn’t a murder---a suicide.”
“Who killed Pink Socks? Not Henry Lee Lucas?”
“He claimed to but he’s lying. She was an émigré from Brazil, a student under a false visa and smuggled drugs in. She stole some money from her bosses. So they raped her and murdered her.”
“Cali cartel?”
“Nothing so exotic. Local man. Owns a garage where they service city vehicles.”
The doctor knocked and came in, was surprised to see that I was up and dressed. “Hi, Cale,” he said and I looked at him once not staring at the large purple birthmark that covered over half his face. I knew what it was like to be stared at and although he hid his feelings on the outside, I could sense what it had done to him inside over the years.
“I’m Dr. Ross, how are you feeling?’
He checked my eyes, my pulse and my wrists. I noticed he wore vinyl gloves and he made the comment, “It’s on your orders, Cale. No one is to touch you with skin to skin contact. Your vitals are good. I see you’ve eaten. You ready to go home?”
“I have no home,” I said, sadly.
“Your paperwork is ready. I’m discharging you into the custody of Dr. Deleon. The nurse will bring things for you to sign. I’m putting you on a minor course of anti-antibiotic and some anti-anxiety drugs. You should see physical therapy; continue your exercises for your legs and arm. Eat well, get plenty of rest. You’re young, you’ll heal fast.”
“Some things never heal,” I muttered.
He went to talk to Deleon and I used the bathroom, finger combed my hair, brushed my teeth and washed my face. I could not see my face; there was no mirror inside because they had removed it, leaving a blank spot over the sink.
“Cale,” I heard at the bathroom door. I came out and found myself surrounded by his agents and a nurse with a wheelchair.
“Ready to go? Sit here and we’ll take you down.”
“I can walk.”
“Hospital policy,” she said. Sitting in the blue padded chair, I put my feet up on the rests and took the clipboard and pen from her. The discharge papers required four signatures and I signed my name under Jed’s.
It was a short ride down to the first floor and out to the lobby. When we exited, there was a big black SUV with blacked out windows waiting at the curb but my attention was riveted to the big skyscrapers two blocks over where Frances had taken me. I wasn’t that far from her death scene; it no longer called to me nor had I any interest in it, it was psychically dead.
The minute I planted my skinny cheeks on the black leather seats, I could sense the undercurrents of old emotions, predominantly fear, lust and anger. I broke out in a cold sweat, pushed past the agent attempting to get in and stood on cold concrete.
Deleon wisely said nothing but opened the front passenger seat and put my palm on it.
We waited. The only thing that came through was the residue of a mundane affair between two unmarried agents and I could handle that. I nodded and climbed in; he put my seat belt on for me and sat directly behind me. The air conditioning was on and I shivered in the frigid air as the doors slammed shut and locked.