The Demon Pool (25 page)

Kevin Williams drove back to the beach after dark. The
girl’s car remained parked by itself. In the sky above, the moon peeked out
from behind occasional clouds, briefly illuminating the tops of breaking waves.
Kevin pulled up beside the girl’s car and turned off the van’s lights.

Call her.

Kevin tried to ignore the voice. He was not ready
to talk to Kat.

Call her now.

The other voices joined in. Kevin put his hands
over his ears, but the voices continued, one moment whispering, the next moment
shouting.

Call her. She needs your help. Call her now.

Kevin cursed. He cursed God, he cursed the voices,
he cursed himself. He climbed into the back of the van and pulled the plastic
off the girl. Her skin had cooled and Kevin could not feel a pulse. Her open
eyes stared vacantly at the van’s roof. Kevin began removing his shoes.

Yes, one more time.

The voices encouraged him.

Then call her.

They nagged him.

Kevin took off the rest of his clothing. The
voices’ excitement was almost palpable. He would have the girl one more time,
before she got too cold, and then he would obey the voices. He would call Kat and
tell her about the plan to deal with Demore. The voices agreed.

***

Trooper Carl Johns was
driving home from his last shift with the Highway Patrol before his reserve
unit’s deployment. He had wanted to leave early, but some unexpected paperwork
kept him busy until just after dark. It was funny how some crap just seemed to
come out of nowhere. Carl’s cell phone rang as he drove north, away from
downtown Ft. Myers. Carl hit the button on the side of his Bluetooth earpiece.

“Trooper Johns,” he said.

“Hi, baby. You going to be home soon?”

His wife had the sexiest phone voice he’d ever
heard.

“Yeah, I’m on the way. Need anything?”

“Just you, baby. I have a surprise for you. Why
don’t you take the beach road? Take your time. I need a few extra minutes to
get some things ready.”

“One of your special nights? Magic love candles
and everything?”

Carl did not buy into his wife’s magic crap, but
it seemed harmless enough. Moreover, when the candles got hot, she got hotter.”

“Everything, baby,” she cooed. “See you soon.”

Carl and his wife, a nurse who worked crazier
shifts than he did, lived in a turn-of-the-century cottage near the beach. He
had spent hundreds of off-duty hours making the house into their dream beach
cottage, and this would be their last weekend together in that perfect little
house for almost a year. Carl turned onto the access road that led past the
beaches.

While the days were still blazing hot, the
unseasonably warm weather was finally giving way to cooler evenings. Carl
rolled down the driver’s side window and breathed deeply. He drove slowly, not
wanting the beach experience to end too soon, in spite of his desire to get
home to the surprise his wife had waiting for him. Afghanistan, where his unit
would be deploying, was a landlocked hellhole and offered little in the way of
niceties.

The early fall sun had already crashed into the
Gulf of Mexico, leaving only a faint glow on the horizon. Carl’s headlights
illuminated two vehicles parked next to each other in a small beachside parking
lot. A small sedan sat parked next to a full-size van. His headlights also
illuminated an “overnight parking prohibited” sign. Carl saw no other vehicles
and no people. Resisting the urge to simply drive by and call the local
sheriff’s office, Carl pulled into the parking lot.

***

Kevin had started dialing Kat
when he heard a car approaching. The girl lay in the back of the van, naked,
uncovered, and dead. The voices reassured him.

Don’t panic. Be calm. Part of the plan.

They sounded confident. In charge.

Kevin closed his cell phone and grabbed the
Taser. He slid it into his pants waistband, leaving his shirt untucked. He
reached into the center console and removed the syringe he had used on the
girl. He checked to ensure that it had enough of the drug remaining and that he
had replaced the needle cap. He placed the syringe in a cargo pocket, opened
the van door, and stepped out.

A vehicle pulled up next to the girl’s car. Kevin
watched as a large, black man in a Florida Highway Patrol uniform exited the
sedan.

“Evening officer,” Kevin said.

The trooper walked around the front of his car
and stopped next to the driver’s side window of the girl’s vehicle. He let his
flashlight shine into the passenger compartment and then came around to where
Kevin was standing next to the van. Kevin smiled and tried to look friendly.

“My friend’s car wouldn’t start and I think she
got too much sun or something.”

“Would you mind showing me some ID?”

Without even knowing the officer, Kevin disliked
him. The trooper was tall and muscular. He looked like a football player, and
Kevin hated football players. He had hated every player on his high school’s
football team. The torment he had experienced from them started in junior high
and lasted all the way through high school graduation. Even the smart,
intellectual players had screwed with him.

“I have my driver’s license and my state employee
ID. They’re in my wallet, in my right cargo pocket.”

“Okay. Let’s see them.”

The trooper’s hand rested on his weapon.

“She was feeling dizzy. I’m glad you came by,”
Kevin said. “This is a little off the beaten path for the Highway Patrol isn’t
it?” Kevin held out his identification. “I usually only see you guys patrolling
on I-75. I work over at the District One RTMC.”

The trooper appeared to relax. He took his hand
off his gun and reached for Kevin’s documents.

“I live up at the north end of the beach,” Carl
said. “Sometimes I drive down here just to enjoy the fresh air.”

“You don’t by any chance know a Trooper Jim
Demore do you?”

“Yeah, I know Jim. He’s a good man. Despite the
crap they said on TV. Where’s your friend?”

“In the back of my van. Lying down.”

“Okay, let’s take a look.”

Kevin followed him to the back of the van. The
inside curtains covered the back door windows. The trooper tried the handle.
Locked.

“Oh, sorry,” Kevin said.

Kevin reached into his cargo pocket and retrieved
his keys.

“She climbed back there through the front.”

Kevin unlocked the rear doors and stood back.

***

Carl stepped forward and opened
the van’s rear doors. Although Mr. Williams looked a little creepy, he was
probably not a bad guy. After all, the date on his state ID showed that he had
worked for the state for a number of years, and the State of Florida did not
make a habit of hiring complete dirt bags.

Carl’s reaction to the naked girl lying in the
back of the van was a split second too late. Something pushed against the back
of his neck and a burst of electricity shot through his body. Strength fled his
muscles. He was in trouble. He’d been tased. No other possibility.

He reached back but could not budge the hand
holding the device. Too weak. He collapsed, falling backward. With his other
hand, he tried to unholster his weapon. Nothing. His muscles refused to respond
to his brain’s commands.

He went down hard on his back, and the little creep
from the van climbed onto his chest. He pressed the Taser against Carl’s neck
one more time. Carl felt his body jerk and he watched the moon slide behind a
cloud. He saw a syringe flash past his eyes, felt the prick in his neck, and
then felt himself slide behind a very dark cloud of his own.

Kevin Williams finally called Kat.

“It’s about time you called me.”

“I’m sorry. Not everything has gone the way I
planned.”

“No kidding. I expected more from you Kevin.”

Calling Kat left Kevin conflicted. He hated the
tone Kat was using with him. It reminded him of his mother. She would chide him
when she caught him in a lie or doing something wrong, and when his father got
home, she would tell him everything. The old man would then commence beating
the crap out of him. Later, his mother would come into Kevin’s bedroom, lie
down next to him, and hold him and whisper to him how he would be a better man
for the beatings.
Thanks a lot, Mom. That shit really helped
.

“I did everything right,” Kevin told Kat. “Nobody
should have lived through that blast. The son-of-a-bitch is charmed, but
something new has come up. Give me a second. I’ll call you back.” Kevin
disconnected.

***

Two minutes passed and Kat’s
phone alert sounded. Message from Kevin. It simply read “photo attached.” Kat
poked the photo icon with her finger.
The little creep is up to something.

The photo opened and showed the back of Williams’
van. One door was open and Kat saw what looked like someone in a Highway Patrol
uniform laying in the back. She looked at the tiny picture, thinking that just
maybe Kevin had come through for her, but it was not Demore in the photo.

The individual looked to be a black male trussed
up tight and his mouth sealed with duct tape. She zoomed in on his face. His
eyes were open, looking both afraid and angry at the same time. Even in the
small picture, Kat could discern a muscular thickness to his body. She used her
finger to zoom out slightly and pan around the photo. It looked as if Kevin had
stacked the trooper on top of something. Or someone. Kat looked closer. From
what she could see, the other body appeared to be female and nude.
The
little freak’s been busy.
What is he up to?

Kat’s phone rang again. She stabbed the answer
button.

“What the hell are you up to?”

“He’s Jim Demore’s friend. I can bring him to you,
but I have to move fast. I need to get somewhere safe before they start looking
for him.”

***

The plan came to Kat in a single
flash of understanding and inspiration.

“There is an old estate near Ft. Myers,” she told
Kevin. “I’ll email you a map. Bring your cargo there and don’t get caught.
Someone will meet you and let you in. And Kevin,” she paused for effect, “don’t
screw this up.”

Kat exercised the power she had over Kevin.
Something tangible, alive. Something she could touch, and that reached out and
touched him.

“Just be careful,” she continued. “You know the
voices don’t like it when you screw up.”

“I have a couple of things to take care of...”
Kevin began.

Kat disconnected the call and dialed Bruce. When
he answered, Kat heard the background noise of a club. Kat’s voice was sharp.

“Where are you?”

“Where do you think?” Bruce asked.

The sharpness cut both ways.

“I got lonely,” Bruce continued. “Where are you?”

His tone of voice surprised her.
So, stupid
Bruce wants to be an asshole?

“I need you to do something for me,” Kat said.

“That sounds fair,” Bruce replied, talking over
the background music. “I need you to do something for me, too.”

It was impossible to miss the innuendo in Bruce’s
voice.

“Okay, Bruce. I’ll do whatever you want, any way
you want, anywhere you want.” Kat turned on the seduction. “But, first, you
have to help me. I need you Bruce. I was nice to you. Very nice. Now you be
nice to me.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“I want you to meet someone at the place you took
me to. The old estate. His name is Kevin. He’ll be in a van and he has someone
with him. Do what he asks and don’t ask any questions. I promise I will make
this worth your while.”

“I want you for myself. Exclusive. Me only.”

“Whatever you want, lover. Everything you want,
everything you need, everything you deserve.”

“Will I see you there?”

“You’ll see me. I promise.”
You’ll see me,
alright, and if you screw this thing up, I’ll be the last thing you ever see.

“Now go. You have the Viper?”

“Ah...yeah. How did you know?”

“I just know, Bruce. Hurry, but don’t get
stopped.”

Kat hung up and dialed Robert.

***

Kevin Williams stared at his
phone. How the hell does she know about the voices?

The reality, of course, was that it didn’t
matter. That’s what the voices told him.

“She knows because she knows.”

“She knows because she has the power to know.”

“She knows because we need her to know.”

The other reality was that Kevin did not have
time to worry about it. He needed to get the Highway Patrol car out of sight.
Behind the bathhouse would work. Not easy to see from the access road.

Kevin moved quickly. He hid the trooper’s car and
got his van on the road. No one else had come around. Once far enough away from
the beach, he would stop and wait for the email. You’ll thank me for this, Kat.

Bill Joyce sipped his coffee. The small talk had ended.
Not that he minded making small talk with Major Kant. She was an attractive
woman who somehow managed to remain feminine in spite of a decidedly unfeminine
uniform. Joyce wondered if her men took her seriously.

Major Kant picked up her phone and punched a
couple of numbers.

“Send Corporal Demore in,” Major Kant ordered.

She hung up the phone and looked at Joyce. Joyce
tried not to smile too widely. He was going to enjoy this. Around Florida law
enforcement circles, Bill Joyce knew he had a reputation as a prick. And it was
true. He could be a prick when he needed to be. But he also had the highest
case clearance of any FLDC special agent, and one of the highest in the entire
state of Florida. He also knew he had the ability to outthink ninety-nine
percent of the population, and he used that ability daily. So he could afford
to be a prick when needed. Or, just whenever.

Someone knocked on the major’s door.

“Come in, Jim,” she said.

The familiarity disappointed Joyce.
Shit, she
called him Jim. That’s okay. I’m still going to enjoy this.

Joyce watched Demore enter the office. Demore
glanced at Joyce before coming to attention in front of the major’s desk. He
spoke with perfect military etiquette.

“Corporal Demore reporting as ordered, ma’am.”

Major Kant’s smile looked friendly and familiar.

“At ease, Jim,” she said. Indicating Agent Joyce,
she continued, “This is Special Agent Joyce from the Department of Law
Enforcement. He is here at the Director’s request. I don’t know if you have
met, but Agent Joyce and I go back a few years. He and the director go back
even farther.”

“I’ve heard of him, ma’am.”

The lack of enthusiasm in Jim’s voice was not
lost on Joyce. Major Kant’s voice remained friendly.

“Have a seat, Jim,” she said.

Jim sat in the chair next to Joyce. In spite of
Major Kant’s easy manner, Joyce saw that Demore was uncomfortable.

“Jim, the governor’s office has decided to pull
the Briggs’ investigation and hand it off to the Department of Law Enforcement.
Agent Joyce owns it now.”

Silence reigned for a moment.

“With all due respect, major, this is bullshit.”

Joyce jumped in.

“Corporal Demore, I hope you realize that not
only was Jefferson Briggs one of Florida’s most prominent businessmen, he was a
personal friend of the governor. The governor has grave concerns about the
progress of your, well, what used to be, your investigation. So now it’s my
investigation.”

Joyce smiled his best “Gotcha, bitch” smile.

***

Joyce looked smug and Jim heard
echoes of his pinch-faced, third-grade teacher. A condescending, stick of a man
who lorded his authority over the children in his class. Jim had grown to hate
his third-grade teacher, and he was not feeling warm and fuzzy about Joyce. He
listened as Joyce droned on.

“Look, the governor knows the Highway Patrol
usually does good work...”

Jim thought that Joyce put too much emphasis on
“usually.”

“...but he doesn’t believe that the Highway
Patrol has a handle on this one.”

Jim knew he should at least try to remind himself
not to take anything from the job personally.
Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

“I’ve got a handle on it,” Jim told Joyce.

No way he would roll over and give it away.

“Jim,” Major Kant interjected, “that doesn’t
matter.” Her voice was firm, but kind. “The decision is out of our hands. Agent
Joyce will need everything you have. I’ve promised the director’s office we
would cooperate in every way possible.”

Jim started to protest again.
Total bullshit.

Major Kant put up her hand in a gesture that gave
Jim no reason to believe that his arguments would win and her expression
reinforced it. He could not remember when, as an adult, he had been as pissed
off and humiliated. The older, longer-serving troopers who had been passed over
when he had been promoted would love this. Bill Joyce stood.

“I have a lot to do, major.”

He extended his hand toward Major Kant. She shook
his hand, polite and perfunctory.

“I expect to see all of the files on this case no
later than tomorrow.”

Smugness returned to Joyce’s face. He looked the
way Jim’s third-grade teacher had when he had told Jim’s mother that her son
“was a little slow.”

Jim watched Joyce leave the office and felt that
old stubbornness welling up inside. The same feeling he had when his
third-grade teacher told him to stand in the corner with his nose against the
wall because of some imagined infraction. Jim told the pinch-faced teacher
“no.” If he had been a couple of years older, he would have said “hell no.”

It took a school police officer and two teachers
to break Jim’s grip on his chair and get him out of his seat. They sent him to
see the principal and the school psychologist. They could do many things to
punish him, but they could never make him stand in the corner again for
something he did not do.

“You’re off the investigation, Jim. Let it go.”
Major Kant’s voice was firm. “Let’s just get back to our jobs.”

Jim Demore, go stand in the corner!
That’s
what they were telling him.
Hell no.

He stood, said “Yes, ma’am,” and turned to leave.

“I’m serious, Jim.” Major Kant’s voice followed
him. “The Department of Law Enforcement wants this all to themselves now. Let
them have it.”

He glanced back. His voice somber.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jim closed the door behind him as he left the
office. In his head, he heard his own third-grade voice.
You can’t make me.

He was all grown up and people were still telling
him to stand in the corner.
Not just no, but hell no.

His hands closed into fists as he walked through
the outer office. His muscles tensed. He could almost feel the cold metal of
his third-grade chair against his fingers.
Yes, I will give Joyce a complete
set of the case files. Right after I make an extra copy for myself
.

He went to his office and closed the door.
Realistically, no one in the Highway Patrol, at least no one who was not a
brown-nosed office pogue, would expect him to roll over and hand his case off
to Joyce. He did not believe for a second that Joyce would pick up on the
unusual elements of this case.
The possibly supernatural elements.
Jim
wasn’t even sure himself that a connection existed to some demonic or occult
world. After all, when it came to the supernatural, to religious mumbo jumbo,
skepticism had always ruled his mind. Yet, this case seemed to be infected with
something extra. Something weird. Would Joyce even have a clue?

Regardless, Jim owned this case, and the director,
Joyce, and the devil himself could kiss his derriere. He wouldn’t stand in the
damn corner for anyone.
Hell no.