Outlier: One mistake can destroy everything. (8 page)

Jay paced his living room, too excited to sleep but too worried to consider what had happened. Part of him believed that if something good happened, and he started to think about it or even talk about it, it would ruin everything. You had to keep those things secret. Good things didn’t happen to Jay. When they did, it was a mistake.

And if you talked about a mistake, somebody or something would come and fix it. But what if it was real? What if he really did make that glass break? It felt like he had some kind of guardian angel. One who helped him get back at those stupid girls. Maybe that’s what those doctors were doing to him. What if they were the ones who were helping him?

He ran into his room and dug through his dresser. He’d put all their paperwork, the stuff they’d said to save, in a special envelope. Maybe it said something in here about what he had done tonight. He read through everything. Some was on color paper that was smooth and glossy. Others were on paper that looked like it had come out of a regular printer.

He brought it to the living room and spread it all out on the coffee table in front of him. He tried to make sense of it all. Lower stress. Blood pressure. Secondary and tertiary consequences of subconscious anxiety. What did that mean? None of it made sense.

He sat back on the couch, trying to think of what to do. Maybe if he tried to break the glass on the window next to the door. That was about the same size as the window at the ice cream place. No, his mom would find out and get mad. He thought some more. He jumped up, ran into the kitchen, and got a plate from the cabinet. He got a glass and filled it halfway with water. He brought them both back into the living room. He poured a little bit of water onto the plate. He looked at the water and tried to make it move. It didn’t.

What was he thinking of at the park? The girls. The laughing girls. He imagined that there were three girls standing around him, laughing at him. He pictured them, right there, in his living room. Stupid laughing girls. He started thinking of them and rocking back and forth while looking at the water. The water started to move! Only slowly at first, but as he got more excited and really concentrated, it moved even more!

It started to jump around like it was shaking. It started to splash the papers around it on the coffee table. Jay jumped up and paced back and forth. Was this really happening? Maybe he should tell the doctors.
NO!
They would tell him he wasn’t supposed to do that, and they’d give him different white pills and make it stop.
No, Jay. Don’t tell anybody.

He remembered his mean gym teacher. The same gym teacher that was at the school now. “The only way to get stronger is to practice! If you don’t practice every day, you will become weak! You are all weak now, and if you don’t practice, you will stay weak!” Jay decided to practice. He got something else. A pencil. He carefully moved the papers aside and put the pencil in the middle of the coffee table. He imagined the stupid laughing girls again and made the pencil move. All the way off the table!

His mind spun in all different directions. He could do things, and nobody would know it was him! He could push people, like some of the mean boys had done to him. He could embarrass people like they’d done to him. And if he saw real laughing girls at school, he’d make them stop laughing. He would make everybody stop laughing. The best part was that nobody would know it was him. That meant he couldn’t tell anybody. Not his mom, and especially not Sean, that guy who hated him but pretended to be nice to him.

Jay was smiling. He needed to practice. He needed to practice a lot.

This was going to be fun!

Thursday Morning

“Yes, this is Mr. Bancroft calling for Ms. Weismann.”

“Please hold.”

Bancroft held.
 

“What can you tell me?” she demanded. No greeting.

“The Rockport Subject is a potential unintended benefit. I’m still in the early stages, but this looks promising.”

“Explain.”

Bancroft went over the details of what Jay had done from the park. Breaking the glass. He’d already placed micro-cameras in his home and could watch at any time via his laptop from his secure location. He explained that Jay was becoming aware of his abilities and was attempting to strengthen them.

“That is significant. Continue watching, expand operations as needed, and let it play out however it plays out. Do not interfere under any circumstances. We already have sufficient biometric data on the subject, so we’ll not need his further cooperation. Be sure to continue to record all observable phenomena and clean the environment completely upon eventual termination.” She ended the call without waiting for a response.

Bancroft had been agency, fully trained in non-detectable surveillance and counter-surveillance, but Tanner Industries offered significantly more potential. Bancroft continued to review the recordings of Jay at home, practicing his new skills. Getting eyes at the school would be easy. They likely had a security system he could remotely tap into. He’d have to get it done before the subject strengthened his skills sufficiently for human practice.

Bancroft liked the private sector much better for many reasons. There was better pay and he got to spy on people who had no inkling they were being watched. Less bureaucracy and zero concern for collateral damage.

“So, where are we?” the chief said while massaging his lower back. He couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position in his chair.

“Three girls. All minors. They see Jay Hutchins, male, 27, standing outside staring at them. They turn away, and a minute or so later the glass breaks inward. One girl injured, not life-threatening. She’s already at home.”

“Cameras?” the chief asked, hopefully.

“Negative.” Sean didn’t look up from his notes.

“Circumstantial. Not enough for a warrant. Not enough for an arrest. Only enough to ask him to come in for questioning. You say you know this guy?” the chief asked, hoping this may help.

“Not really. Graduated high school in the same year, not much involvement. He was fond of Sheryl. They exchanged a few emails, nothing serious. She was a crush, and she kept a professional distance.”

“Shit. I didn’t know. Sorry, Sean.” The chief seemed genuinely upset at the connection. It had only been—what, six days?

“Don’t worry about it. But yeah, I’ll go to his house and talk to him about it. But there was that other thing. The kid who peed his pants. I asked him about that, and he wasn’t being entirely forthcoming.” Sean finally met his chief’s eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“That’s the thing. No crime, some guy peed his pants. Tell you the truth, only reason I went over to talk to Jay was because I was bored. But Chi, the girl who was with Josh, who peed his pants, said Jay used voodoo or witchcraft or something. She seemed convinced it was his fault that Josh peed himself.” Sean couldn’t help but smile when he said the last part. “So I go to his house,” he continued, “and he plays innocent. Doesn’t even corroborate.”

“Sounds intriguing,” the chief started, twisting in his chair, “but you well know that without any hard evidence, there ain’t shit we can do. You know how many high-school girls believe in that crap, what with all those vampire movies that are so popular? My granddaughter’s trying to get me to watch this TV show about a coven of witches or something, for chrissakes.” This made Sean laugh out loud. Finally some levity.

They both sat there.

“Tell you what. It is likely that this Jay character put a brick through the window, but unless he confesses, we ain’t got jack. But you can talk to him, and we can talk to his boss; who’s that, the principal?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“If he’s a danger to the kids, they’ll fire his ass in a heartbeat. Lean on Jay a bit, then talk to his boss and tell ‘em you think he might be dangerous around students; mention he likes watching boys pee their pants and let them deal with him. Maybe he’ll get fired and try that shit on some guy in a bar and get what’s coming to him.”

Sean took a slow breath. The excitement of small-town crime. That law degree was looking better and better.

“Right. I’ll get on it.”

Sean pulled up to Jay’s house, suspecting he had already missed him. He checked his watch. 9:30. He sat in his car for a few minutes, wondering if he should pressure Jay at school. Not a good idea. He’d be much less willing to talk there. He got out, not sure why.

He slowly approached the home, searching around. Most folks had left for work and kids for school. Only the odd retiree would be home. He imagined the worst-case scenario and came up with a defensible excuse. Jay was a danger to himself and others. He lived with his mom.
That’s why I decided to enter the home without a warrant. I was just trying to help, Your Honor.

He took out his badge and clipped it to his waist, turning around ostensibly to scan the neighborhood while giving everybody a clear view of who he was. Maybe Jay’s neighbors would tell him the cops were snooping around. That’d scare him.

He walked slowly down the side, just in case there was a dog he didn’t know about—but there wasn’t. He entered the unkempt backyard; weeds were everywhere. No barbecue or lawn chairs, relatively barren. He tried a couple windows; all latched. He checked the back door; locked. Not a problem. Three minutes later he was inside.

Walking carefully, he checked cabinets, drawers, and shelves with his latex-gloved fingers. Nothing conspicuous. No open diaries explaining his plans to murder kids at school. He checked the fridge. No leftovers, no signs of home cooking. The trash can was overflowing with fast-food wrappers. Not surprising.

He moved into the living room. His curiosity increased. He stood, scanning the room with his hands on his hips. Papers were carefully laid out on the coffee table, as if Jay had been studying something. Various small objects were lying across the carpet between the table and the entertainment center. No pictures. No books. Only a TV and a few DVDs. He studied the floor. Pencils. Balled-up pieces of tin foil. Small rocks. A plastic cup tipped over on its side. Wet spot on the carpet.
What the hell was he doing? Tossing rocks and tin foil into a cup of water? What the fuck is up with this guy?

He looked at the sofa, sitting in the center where the largest impression was. He glanced at the TV, looking past the papers and brochures on the table.
What were you doing, Jay?
He looked at the brochures vaguely. Maybe Jay was checking himself into a mental hospital, making it easy on everybody.

Only then did he see the heading on the brochure. He sat up straight, his expression suddenly transforming from bored curiosity to concerned focus.
BioGyn
. Same place that had sent the email to Sheryl. What were they doing in Rockport? He stood to read the brochure. Same kind of stuff he had read on their website. Marketing B.S. Then he saw what looked like a business letter made out to Mr. Jay Hutchins.

Dear Mr. Hutchins,

Thank you for your participation in the clinical study of LoZiet Stress Reduction Formula. Shall we need to contact you any further, we will use the contact information provided by you, during the times deemed appropriate. I hope this has been an enjoyable experience. Should you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact us.

Sincerely,

The LoZiet Team

He stood up and went into Jay’s bedroom. He checked his computer, not password protected—but nothing stood out. He looked through his drawers; nothing. Checked the dark closet: crumpled clothes, a few hanging shirts, nothing. Now he hoped nobody had seen a cop sneak into Jay’s house, and if so, nobody would tell him. He’d need to talk to Jay about this drug company. Did he know Sheryl was involved? How were they connected?

He got back to his car and drove off much more thoughtfully than when he had come in.

Certainly Dr. Nguyen could help.

And Alan as well.

He’d talk to them both.