The Devil's Water: Scenic City Murder Series #1 Page 13

  “Now, we can begin.” He said.

  She noticed that he was holding something in his hand. As he brought his arm up, she saw that it was a hypodermic needle. “No!” she screamed.

  “Shhh.” He whispered.

  He moved over to her as she began flailing her arms and legs once more. “No! I don’t want that! Don’t give that shit to me!” she yelled.

  As she threw her fit, she noticed his hand come toward her face. He clasped it around her neck and squeezed hard. “Shhh.” He whispered again.

  Suddenly, Flo saw little specks of light floating around in her vision. She tried to fight but it was useless. Seconds later, Flo Jenson passed out.

  CHAPTER 31

  Dr. Sean K. Connor was making his rounds. It was a little after 10 in the morning and he only had room 326 in the intensive care unit left to do. Sean thought the patients in ICU were the hardest group of patients to check. Most times, folks would be lying in their hospital beds all alone. Family or friends had dealt with it the best they could and then they would have to move on with their own lives leaving those in critical shape in isolation. Sometimes, family would still be present. Mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers crying and in so much emotional turmoil that Dr. Connor could still hear their pleas in his head when he went home at night. Doctoring the frail, weak or almost dead back to health took a physical toll as well. Sean could look in the mirror and see an abundance of gray hair that hadn’t been there just a year or two prior. The facial wrinkles were deepening too. It made him think of his own mortality and, frankly, it wasn’t a very pleasant thought.

  The one beacon of light on the whole miserable floor was from Room 326. Carol Shipley’s parents were always attentive and supportive without being overly emotional. He turned the knob and pushed the door to 326 with clipboard in hand, ready for anything.

  As he entered the room, he saw four men standing beside Carol’s bed. Connor knew three of the men but the fourth didn’t look at all familiar.

  “Hello again, doc.” Buck Shipley walked up and offered his hand. Connor noted that the man looked extremely tired. Nevertheless, he had a sweet smile plastered on his face and his blue eyes twinkled. “I know you’ve met Dr. Limmel and Mr. Campbell. This other guy over here is Dan Mclutcheon. He’s the cop on this case.”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve heard the name plenty of times.” Connor said as Clutch walked up and extended his right hand. The men shook and smiled at one another.

  “There’s some really good news today, doc.” Shipley continued. “Carol’s respiration increased when she heard Dr. Limmel and Mr. Campbell talking with each other. That’s a good sign, right?”

  “Well, let’s take a look here.” Dr. Connor said as he walked over to the bedside. Carol’s head was still wrapped in heavy gauze and, Connor noted, she didn’t appear any different than any other day he had done his rounds. The respirator was beeping slowly as Carol Shipley’s chest moved up and down.

  “I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it myself.” Limmel stated.

  “Yes she does appear to be showing some progress.” David Campbell agreed. “She seems aware of our voices and recognizes them.”

  Almost on cue, Dr. Connor heard the respirator beep faster. He watched as Carol’s breathing quickened. “My Gosh. You’re right!”

  “It’s not a fluke! Carol’s breathing decreased earlier when she heard Mr. Mclutcheon talking.” Buck said glancing over at the police Lieutenant and then back to Connor. “She doesn’t know him like she knows the other two. It’s great news isn’t it, doc? I mean, she could come out of her coma any day, right?”

  Dr. Connor was peering down at his clipboard and making notes. When he finished, his eyes returned to Buck Shipley. He could see that the man was filled with absolute joy. The pure satisfaction of feeling like all was not lost and maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. “Well, Mr. Shipley. I believe this is a great sign that she’s recognizing voices that she didn’t know until after her mishap. This is certainly progress. We’re still not really sure when she might come out of the coma, though.”

  “Yeah, but there’s a chance it could be real soon.”

  “Well, there’s a chance. She still has a way to go, though.” Connor answered offering up his gentlest smile. He placed an arm around Buck Shipley’s shoulder. “I guess the wife is down in the chapel.”

  “Yeah, I need to go tell her the news.”

  “Let’s go together.” Dr. Connor said.

  CHAPTER 32

  Dan Mclutcheon sat on his couch watching the embers in his fireplace burn red as flames leaped and subsided. It was a cold, crappy winter night. The previous two days had been mild but a cold front blew through knocking all of Chattanooga on its collective ass. Nobody was eager to be outside.

  Clutch hadn’t been home for more than a couple hours but he had already finished most of the evening’s routine. He had fed himself, read the newspaper and adequately stroked and petted the large lump of white fur lying on his lap. The cat looked up at his human companion. His eyes were half slits as Clutch rubbed behind his ears and under his chin. “I love you, Happy.” He whispered. As if in response, the feline extended his two front legs and stretched out baring his front claws. Happy yawned and flipped over on one side, placing his paws under his chin and closing his eyes. Time for a cat nap Clutch thought as he smiled down at the cat.

  Clutch leaned his head back on the sofa and reached for the phone. Dialing the number, he placed the phone to his ear and waited for a response.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, where have you been? I’ve tried to get a hold of you for a couple days now.”

  “I’ve been busy. It’s the end of the semester, you know?”

  “Oh, right. I forgot. So how are you?”

  “Fair. How did it go at the hospital the other day?”

  “Well, that’s really why I was calling. I’ve got some information and I wanted to fill you in.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Firstly, Carol is doing better. She’s now able to recognize voices that she has only heard after the accident.”

  “Whose voices?”

  “Dr. Limmel and David Campbell. Her breathing becomes more rapid when she hears them talk. Doc says that’s a good sign.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s great! I guess if David Campbell was visiting me all the time, I would start coming out of it too.”

  “Jeez, Tasha. Don’t tell me you’re hot for him.”

  “Hey! I have a discriminating taste. There’s just a lot of good looking guys in the world.”

  “Well, to be fair, I saw him eye you down by the river. I think he might be interested in you, too.”

  “Are you serious? What about his wife?”

  “He’s not taken. I could set the two of you up. He’d be a better catch than those bar crawlers you’re always after.”

  There was silence on the line for a full fifteen seconds. Clutch figured Tasha was mulling it over. He picked the large cat up off his lap and sat him on the sofa gingerly. Happy jumped down from the couch cushion and trotted off toward his food bowl.

  “I don’t think so.” Tasha finally said. “I just don’t think I’m ready for any kind of commitment.”

  “Well, you’re not getting any younger but…ok. Whatever you say.” Clutch smiled as he watched Happy bound for the foyer and scurry up the stairs to the second floor.

  “So what else is going on? Is there any more news on Gamblin?”

  “Yeah, a little bit. The ME’s report came back. Of course, it was the gun shots that killed him. Looks like he died a little while before the message was left on the phone. There were a couple texts too. Seems that Berndt posed as Vicelli. That’s how he lured him to the Devil’s Water.”

  “Wait. How did he know that Vicelli was the leak?” Tasha asked.

  “He didn’t. He just let Gamblin jump to that conclusion by promising him more information. Really, it was pretty clever.”

  “Damn. Well, what info do
you have from Berndt’s computer?”

  “So far, not much. Berndt visited a lot of weird websites and had a lot of macabre interests. Some of the sites he would frequent would’ve probably gotten him investigated by law enforcement if he wasn’t already in trouble.”

  “So he’s a real freak and he’s diabolical. We have to nail him, Clutch.”

  “Yeah, I know. Rico Savoy wants first crack at him though.” Clutch laughed. “That lead fell through. I think his girls were just paranoid and, like you say, they were seeing him on every corner.”

  “I know how that works from my time with the FBI. Serial killers make people ultra paranoid. Since we’re catching up… I just want to tell you that the cop you have watching me is making me paranoid.”

  “How so?”

  “He just follows me around every evening. If I’m at the bar, he comes in and takes a seat. If I’m at the grocery store, he walks the aisles around me. He’s just very visible and he’s giving me the creeps.”

  “Well, I’ll tell him to back off. He’s just young and eager. You know the type, full of piss and vinegar. Straight out of academy.”

  “Oh, hell. No wonder he looks like a boy scout.” Tasha said, laughing.

  “Alright. I think you’re all caught up.” Clutch said as Tasha’s laughter subsided. “I’ll be in touch in a few days, alright?

  “Ciao.”

  Clutch hung up the phone, laid his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. He was almost asleep when he heard a loud thump from upstairs. Happy must be into something he thought as he came awake and reached for the TV remote. He had just turned the set off when he heard another loud thump. Suddenly, he was wide awake and he got up from the sofa. Clutch looked out the window into the pitch black of the night. He knew that Happy could get into things from time to time but it was unusual for the cat to make that much noise. He moved toward the foyer and noticed his Glock sitting on the cabinet beside the front door. Grabbing the gun, he started up the stairs to the second floor. Clutch noticed that his pulse was racing as he came to the second floor landing. “Who’s here?” he yelled. There was no answer. He went through each bedroom and closet one by one, even checking the hall bathroom. He jerked open the shower curtain and drew his gun, ready for anything. No one was there. Finally, he came to his own bedroom. The master bedroom and bathroom had a walk in closet. He searched the bedroom thoroughly, checking in under the bed. The only thing he located was Happy, who was peering out at him with his green eyes shining. “C’mere boy.” Clutch said. He held out an arm but Happy scooted to the other side of the bed far from his reach. Happy, he reasoned, was in a devilish mood. He got up and entered his en suite bathroom. Sitting next to the door of the walk-in closet was a huge potted plant that had been turned over. Potting soil was everywhere and the large fern was sprawled all over the carpet. “Shit.” He uttered looking at the huge mess. “Haaaapppy…you got some ‘splainin’ to do.” He said in a voice loud enough for his cat to hear. The feline wasn’t talking. Clutch stood there for a second more examining the mess. Finally, he walked back into the bedroom and laid his Glock on the nightstand beside his alarm clock and reading glasses. He checked under the bed one more time. Happy was crouched in a spot furthest away from an outreached hand. His green eyes glistened. “You’ve been a bad boy, Happy.” Clutch finally said to the cat and lowered the dust ruffle. He stood up and looked at the clock. It really wasn’t that late but he felt dog tired. He didn’t even feel like walking through the house to turn off lights. Instead, he began taking off his tie and the rest of his clothes. Once he had disrobed, he walked to the other side of the bed and got down on his hands and knees. Happy tried to evade him but Clutch was too quick. He stood up, holding the cat in his arms and placed him on top of the comforter. “What say we go to bed boy?” Clutch asked the white fuzzy wad. Happy climbed on top of a pillow and settled in. His eyes were, once again, half slits. “We’ll clean up the mess tomorrow, won’t we boy?” Clutch said as he laid down on the other side of the bed. “Good night, baby.”

  Clutch turned over and pulled the covers up to his neck. Within 5 minutes, Dan Mclutcheon was asleep.

  It was 1 AM but the red digital display on the alarm clock read 1:15. Mclutcheon always set his clock 15 minutes fast because, since his Army days, he would rather ‘hurry up and wait’ than keep people waiting on him. He only served three years as a very young man but some of those Army rules stayed with him. Happy had left the bedroom some time before because he had heard a mouse down in the kitchen scurrying about. Clutch, however, was deep asleep and dreaming. In his dream, he was a boy again. It was a hot summer day and he was at a ball field standing at home plate. The pitcher was just about to deliver the pitch and young Danny held his bat perfectly still. As the ball crossed the plate, Dan drilled it deep to left field. He could hear the roar of the crowd and he could see his parents sitting in the stands. The ball arched high and long, cutting a streak across the bright blue sky. Finally, it plunged to earth beyond the fence and rolled about twenty yards across the green grass. Clutch began to jog the bases as he looked up in the stands to see his parents standing and cheering. He was jubilant as he rounded third heading for home. All his team mates were standing at home plate to greet him. They hefted Danny on their shoulders as a girl sitting on the bleachers went to retrieve the game ball. Young Danny Mclutcheon had won the game. He took off his ball cap and looked up into the clear sky. He smiled as he let the sun shine on his face. Danny hadn’t always had the happiest childhood but today was different. Today was a red letter day. Still, there was something that he couldn’t identify. A feeling that he couldn’t quite put into words. He watched as his team mates walked off the field carrying him high above them. Eventually, the dust settled and the bleachers emptied. Clutch saw the young version of himself and watched as his smile faded. The freckles on the young boys’ face stood out as he glanced toward the sky. Clouds were moving in. That feeling was coming back. It was tugging and nagging at him. As a huge black cloud covered the ball field, Danny felt a raindrop land on his nose. Suddenly, as quickly as it landed, the raindrop reminded him of something. Something dark and ominous. You forgot to check your closet. Young Danny watched as huge raindrops landed on the hot asphalt of the parking lot making steam rise. Now he was standing all alone. His friends and their families were long gone and his parents were nowhere in sight. You forgot to check your closet. He tried to push the thought from his mind. “Mom! Dad!” Danny yelled as loud as he could. As the sky turned blacker, Danny began walking toward the concession stand. He hoped his parents were there and they would take him home. Youuuu forgot tooo check yourrrr clooooseeeet. The voice was in his ear now and he couldn’t get rid of it. Just then, a great roll of thunder made a crashing sound and Clutch was wide awake. He could feel his heart beating in his chest and noticed a trickle of sweat dripping down his forehead. He reached over for the pillow which lay beside him and realized that Happy wasn’t there. It was just a bad dream he told himself as he tried to catch his breath. He really needed to use the bathroom. Sitting up on the side of the bed, Clutch glanced at his clock. He stood up and, at that very moment, a chill shot through his heart traveling down his spine. There was a shadow at the foot of his bed. A very big shadow. “You forgot to check your closet.” It whispered followed by low sinister laughter. Clutch reached for his gun reflexively, knocking the alarm clock off the nightstand. The Glock wasn’t there. He fell to his knees grasping and reaching for it, his hands moving wildly and franticly across the carpet. He felt his pulse pounding in his chest and, for a moment, he felt as though he might pass out. Someone was in his house. Someone who wanted to hurt him. Again, the low dark sinister laugh filled the room. Suddenly, it dawned on Clutch that he would never find his gun on the floor or anywhere around his bed. The person who was standing at the foot of his bed had it. “Get off the floor and stand up.” The voice said. Clutch obeyed and raised his hands in the air. It occurred to him that he was standing there with no c
lothes on. He had been too tired to dress for bed. “Now turn the light on.” The voice ordered quietly. Clutch reached over toward his nightstand and flipped the switch on the bedside lamp. He turned toward the voice and fear struck like a bolt of lightning in his gut. The figure who stood at the end of the bed was holding a gun pointed directly at Clutch’s chest. He was wearing a mask of shame and Clutch noted that it looked a lot like the ones he had seen in Gary Berndt’s house.

  “Gary?”

  The man in the mask didn’t answer him. Instead, he continued holding the gun on Clutch. He was almost daring him to make a move. “Gary, you don’t want to do this. You want to put the gun down and we can talk about this.” Clutch said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. It had been years since the seasoned cop had worked in hostage negotiation but he was trying his damndest to remember as much as he could about it at that moment.

  “You have no idea what I want to do. You don’t know all the answers and you don’t know me.” Berndt said as he kept the gun aimed at Clutch.

  Mclutcheon noted that Berndt still had a slight German accent. He felt that it was a good sign that Berndt engaged with him. Clutch knew the best thing he could do was keep him talking. “I see you have on a mask of shame. Looks like the kind I saw in a museum once in Rothenberg ob der Tauber. Did you grow up around there?”

  “I’ve been there. Many times in my youth. Back then, I could only imagine what I would do later. How much I would enjoy making people suffer.” Berndt laughed.

  “But making people suffer wouldn’t have pleased your grandmother.”

  “Leave her out of this! You didn’t know her. You don’t know what she would’ve wanted.”