Outlier: One mistake can destroy everything. (10 page)

Saturday, 5 a.m.

Sean lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Bethany lay on the opposite side of the bed, facing away from him. He vaguely remembered coming inside, getting undressed, and hitting the sheets, followed by some sloppy lovemaking. He searched his mind for any conversations he may have had, coming up empty. He didn’t like this feeling.
Should I wake her up before I leave? Leave a note?

He checked his phone. Nothing from Nguyen. He’d have to call again. Did he work Saturdays? Then he saw an urgent message from Chief Hernandez:

URGENT - Det Lovac

Detective, DO NOT, repeat, DO NOT contact Mr. Hutchins. Somehow lawyered up. Very expensive guy, no idea how or why. Under no circumstances are you to question him unless we are prepared to file formal charges, and ONLY with his lawyer present. DO NOT QUESTION UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. Messy situation. See attached. Please contact me before taking action.

Chief Hernandez

How the hell did Jay get a lawyer?
Why
did Jay get a lawyer? He sat back in bed, thinking about Jay’s mom. Office support staff for a temp company. Worked various places. Maybe she was banging somebody in an attorney’s office? Even then, why? It made no sense. Then he checked the attachment. He watched it several times. He remembered what Chi had said, and came to the same conclusion that Hernandez had. Something had to be in that locker. But why was Chi staring at Jay before the book came flying out? It made zero sense.

His mind drifted to the balls of foil on the floor, the letters from BioGyn. What did Sherlock say? When the probable was ruled out, the only thing left was the improbable? Bullshit. He must be playing some con. Some game. What else did he think about all day, pushing that broom around? Sean tried to imagine under what situations Jay could potentially have gotten laid. Prostitutes? Likely. Being around those kids after what he experienced in high school must not be ideal.

He could see Jay plotting and planning, and setting some kind of spring-loaded device. That would explain why he may have been staring at the girl who got clobbered in the face. He was waiting for it to go off.
Were you smart enough to wear gloves, Jay?
That would be why that Asian girl would think he was a witch. She was watching him, waiting for it to happen. Why didn’t they find anything in the locker? Sean kept running that over in his mind. He would have left some kind of evidence. He’d have to dust the inside of that locker for Jay’s fingerprints. There’d be video of the school stored somewhere. Did Jay have access to the videos? It would be a stretch, but it would be possible.

You could plan something like this for a year, but why that girl? That would mean he did throw something through that window. Maybe Jay was one of those idiot-savants? Maybe LoZiet did something to him, made him snap somehow. He let his mind wander, putting together an action plan before he went to see Hernandez. Dust for prints. Check the tapes. He’d have to come up with a motive. That would mean checking into those three girls in the ice cream shop and the girl who got hit in the face, and watching security footage from the last year or so. Watch for any interactions with Jay. If he found Jay’s prints in the locker, that may be enough for an arrest. Then maybe he could show some recorded interaction, some kind of conversation—or better yet, show those girls doing something to Jay. A reason why Jay would have motive. Then they might have him.

But why the hell did Jay have a lawyer all of a sudden?

He leaned over and shook Bethany gently. Figured he’d say goodbye. She didn’t turn, only pushed his hand away.

What
did
happen last night?

Mr. Goldberg knocked patiently on Jay’s door. Saturday morning, 8:15 a.m. He knew Jay left for work at 8:30, and he knew that Jay got out of the shower at 8:10, but not today. After what had happened yesterday at Mr. Hutchins’ place of employment, he likely didn’t expect to go to work today. But that would soon change. He knocked again, and the door opened a crack.

“Yeah?” Jay asked.

“Mr. Hutchins? My name is Mr. Goldberg.” He handed him his card.

“Attorney? Am I in trouble?” Jay asked.

“No; of course not, Mr. Hutchins. May I come in? I know you have to leave in 15 minutes. I’ll be brief. I promise I have very good news for you!”

Jay opened the door, confused. He hadn’t showered or shaved. Mr. Goldberg had suspected that may be the case.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to go to work. They called yesterday and told me to stay home today.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Hutchins. I’ve already taken care of things. You can go to work today, just like normal. I’ve been sent here to make sure nobody does anything to harm you or get you in trouble.” Mr. Goldberg smiled kindly.

“OK. Why? I don’t have any money or anything. Did my mom hire you?”

“No, Mr. Hutchins. I was hired by BioGyn. Do you remember them?”

“Yeah, they were those nice doctor people, right?” Jay seemed cheered by the connection. Did he get to participate in more tests?

“Well, Mr. Hutchins, I have very good news. It seems they have been looking over your test results, and you are a very, very special person! We’ve seen what you can do! In fact, we are so happy, we want you to keep doing it!” Goldberg’s eyes lit up.

“But, they know—I mean, they think I hit that girl, but I didn’t touch her!” Jay became defensive.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Hutchins. We know you didn’t
need
to touch her. Understand? We want you to keep doing those things.” Mr. Goldberg was beaming at Jay like a proud father watching his son take his first steps.

Jay sat in stunned silence.
They know? And it’s OK?

“Am I going to be famous?” Jay asked, standing up and pacing the room.

“Well, Mr. Hutchins, there are two extremely important rules you absolutely must follow,” Mr. Goldberg said as seriously as he could.

“OK.” Jay stopped pacing. He looked at Mr. Goldberg with rapt attention.

“Rule number one is: you must not tell a soul about your new skills. You absolutely cannot tell anybody. Understand? That would ruin everything,” Goldberg said slowly and deliberately.

Jay seemed a bit deflated, but only for a moment. He then felt elated at the prospect of being in on a big secret with such important people.

“OK. I won’t tell anybody. I promise.” He was nodding his head, smiling. “What’s the second rule?”

“You must not touch anybody. Only use your mind. Do you understand what I mean, Jay? You can only use your mind.”

“You mean like I can’t touch you like this,” Jay reached over and patted Mr. Goldberg on the shoulder.

“Absolutely correct, Mr. Hutchins. Absolutely correct. You must remember. People are watching at all times. Some good people, some bad people. But you will only get in trouble if you touch people, just like you touched me, understand?”

“Yes, I understand. Don’t tell anybody, and don’t touch anybody. OK, I got it. And you said I can go back to work?” Jay was elated. This meant he could keep playing. Having fun.

“Take a few of my cards. They have my name and my number. If anybody tries to get you in trouble at work—or anywhere else—you tell them to call me, OK? Only talk to people about work. Nothing else. This includes the police. Especially Detective Lovac.”

Jay could barely contain himself. He must be super important for them to send him somebody like Mr. Goldberg. Somebody powerful to protect him at work
and
against the police.

Mr. Goldberg stood up and walked over to Jay. He leaned close to him.

“Mr. Hutchins, we know what you’ve been through. We know what high school was like. We know that right now, at that school, some of those children are bad. Very bad. We want you to practice your skills at school, as much as you can and in any way you can, and also outside of school. Practice them anywhere and everywhere. Any way you like. I promise you will not get in trouble. Think of this as being on a secret mission. Do you understand, Jay? We want you to get as strong as you can.”

A stone-faced Mr. Goldberg looked at Jay, who slowly nodded his head up and down.

“Now, Mr. Hutchins. It’s time for you to get showered and go to work. Remember what I said.” He turned and left before Jay had a chance to respond or even thank him.

*****

Mr. Goldberg knew he was treading a very thin line. If Jay followed his advice and didn’t touch anybody, he knew the authorities would have no reason to file any official charges. The only danger was that if the collateral damage was excessive, and by some miracle Mr. Hutchins survived, he may mention this conversation.

But he had been assured that the cameras he knew were in the room, after being sufficiently altered, would tell a much different story.

Shame they’d told him only to deliver the directives. He’d love to stay around and watch the outcome.

He didn’t admire the fallout that would inevitably land on whoever had to finally put a stop to Mr. Hutchins.

But that wasn’t his problem.

Sean drove away from Hernandez’s house. Poor guy was still in bed. Maybe that’s what Winnie wanted to talk to him about. He hoped she wasn’t going to offer him the job. Ideally, Hernandez would stay on a couple more years while Sean tried to milk the system long enough to pay for his law degree. But it appeared that wasn’t going to happen. Then again, being chief before age 30 would look pretty good on a resume. Chief at 30, ADA at what—35, 40? DA at 40, 45? Not a bad career. Those guys made pretty good money and had plenty of connections. He’d have to shoot for San Antonio: big enough to be interesting, but not so big he would have to compete with a bunch of other ex-cop lawyers.

He pulled into Rockport-Fulton, forgetting that plenty of kids came in on Saturday mornings. Sheryl had only taught during the week. He scanned the parking lot for Tony’s car. Ms. Cho, an assistant of Dr. Nguyen and a forensics specialist, was on the scene. She’d been borrowed from San Antonio, as she always was whenever there was a crime scene to collect. They’d only needed fingerprints. He didn’t admire the poor fool who was going to watch two years of video, looking for motive—although he had a suspicion it would be him. They’d called the school and learned they’d kept five years for insurance purposes.

“Detective,” Ms. Cho smiled, nodding her head. “Where we going?”

“Hang on, lemme check,” Sean said, pulling out his notepad. “Locker 524, building C. That appears to be…there,” he finished, pointing.

They both had their credentials on their belt and were expected. They didn’t think there’d be any resistance.

V.P. Jackson and a person who looked like a maintenance worker were standing by the locker.

“We need a flat surface about yea big,” Sean said, motioning with his hands. “We’ll spread out her stuff, dust everything, and put it back the way we found it. We’ll need you to watch us the whole time to verify, in case there are any problems. All right?” Sean asked. V.P. Jackson nodded, saying nothing.

Five minutes later, Sean was staring into the empty locker, hands on his hips. Ms. Cho had collected all the prints she could from the books and both the inside and outside of the locker. But it didn’t look good.

“Opinion?” Sean said to nobody in particular. But Ms. Cho knew he was talking to her. She’d seen the tape.

She peered into the empty locker, examining the back and the sides closely.

“The victim was standing here,” Cho began, moving away from the locker. “The locker was open for—what, five, six seconds—and then BAM,” she said, clapping her hands in front of her face to indicate impact. “Book comes flying out at ten yards a second.”

“What’s on the other side of this wall?” she asked Jackson.

“I’ll show you,” she answered, leading them into the adjacent classroom. She didn’t look happy. Cho saw why. A glass case. Glass in back, glass in front.

“Well,” Cho said, “there goes that theory.”

“Something tells me,” Sean began—as they stood back in front of the still-open locker, books carefully laid out on the ground on top of a broken down cardboard box—“we’ll watch the last month or so of video, of this locker, and not see a goddamn thing.”

“I need to talk to the other girl. The Asian one. In a private room.” Sean said to Jackson.

“Use my office; I’ll bring her.” Jackson motioned one way and walked the other.

While Cho started to refill the locker, Sean found the V.P.’s office.

“I told you! That guy is some kind of freak!” Chi said, bursting through the door about two minutes later.

“OK, OK; calm down. I know this seems freaky, but we need to come at this from a purely logical, objective standpoint. Put yourself in my shoes. If he did do this, we have to go to court. Which means we need to present evidence to a jury. We’ve seen the tape of what happened, and even though he was staring at her before it happened, that doesn’t prove anything.”

Chi had sat down and seemed on the verge of tears.

“But he’s back! He’s here now! They said they can’t make him go home! He’s just pushing that stupid broom around with that stupid smile on his face!”

“I know, I know. It’s best to just stay out of his way. If you see him, go the other way. Don’t look at him; don’t talk to him. Is there anything you can tell me that would help me? Any kind of evidence?” He tried to appeal to her objective side. He didn’t need to hear any more about witchcraft.

“I’m telling you, he’s some kind of freak of nature! He wasn’t just staring at her; there was something in his eyes, like he
changed
or something! I felt like static or something. Like right before lightning hits.” She was shaking.

“OK, OK; I know that was pretty scary. Now, I don’t mean anything by this—but when we put someone in jail, it’s a lot easier if we think they had a reason for doing what they did. Was there anything that anybody may have done that Jay may have
thought
was against him in any way?” Sean said, hoping. Without motive they had nothing.

“No way! Nothing. Nobody ever even
talks
to him or really ever looks at him. I can’t believe you can’t take him away. He’s dangerous! Why doesn’t anybody believe me?” she said, starting to cry.

“OK, I understand. Like I said, just stay away from him. Today’s almost over; half day, right?” She nodded. “I promise we’ll figure something out. OK?” he said, trying to cheer her up. He didn’t think it worked.

She stood and left. He sat alone, wondering what in the hell was going on. His phone vibrated—a text from Nguyen.

Need to talk. Office till 6 p.m.

Interesting. Why wouldn’t Dr. Nguyen want to talk over the phone?

He was about to find out.