Possession (16 page)

* * * *

Under the gray skies the apartment building looked like the discarded husk of an insect that had outgrown it and moved on. The windows were black, reflecting the empty rooms and hallways inside. Kiel steeled his nerve and disappeared from the rear courtyard, reappearing in the sixth floor corridor.

He planned to go from room to room, apartment to apartment. His ultimate goal was to find his body, but he held out little hope of finding it here. However, there was the remote chance of him finding some clue that would provide him with the information he was seeking.

Closing his eyes, he stood in the middle of the first apartment at the end of the hall. He would work his way toward the elevator, then start on the other end of the building and repeat his actions. Hopefully by concentrating whatever spiritual energy he possessed, he could sense whether or not that particular apartment was connected somehow, someway, to the Shredder. Any kind of clue, any kind of vibe, that’s all he needed.

Fortunately it didn’t take him long once he was inside the main living area of each apartment unit. So far each dark and empty set of rooms gave him nothing to go on. No sense of foreboding or distant backwashes of violence could be felt. If he didn’t know any better, Kiel would think the place was just another abandoned building sitting on the fringe between the slum area of town and the revitalized section.

Once he was finished on the sixth floor, he went to the fifth and repeated his investigation of each unit. Every nerve in his body remained on alert for the first sign of Conader. The demon driving the man was not happy Kiel had returned to the building. This visit wouldn’t suit well either. Sooner or later the vengeful spirit would not let Kiel get by with another warning. Before long his visits would be taken as a direct threat or challenge, resulting in a confrontation he dreaded to think about.

But if the inevitable was to occur, it would occur without J or Sam present. There was no way he would allow either of them to become part of the equation.

An unexpected warmth raced through him at the thought of J, forcing Kiel to a halt. His hands clenched involuntarily as he recalled last night. Recalled the creamy texture of her skin. Her sweet fragrance and innocent passion. The drugged, sated sound of her voice as she begged for more.

Remembering her hunger, he leaned against a wall, using the rigid frame behind him to help hold him up. Dearest heavens, the mere thought of her and the way she had opened herself up to him made his knees weak.

Running a trembling hand over his face, Kiel tried for the umpteenth time to find some justification for it all. Why would he find someone with J’s caring and compassion at a time when he was least able to accept it? It made no sense. Dammit,
nothing
made sense!

Slamming his fist against the wall didn’t hurt, but it made a nice thudding sound. Throwing a curse word into the echoing, empty room, he left it and continued with his methodical hunt. If he had put two thoughts together he would have brought a cell phone with him so he could call Sam. He wanted to check in to see if the labs had found out anything, to compare notes, or, if nothing else, just to bounce theories off of. But he didn’t dare materialize back at the station.

Finishing with the fifth floor and finding nothing, Kiel toyed with the idea of going over to J’s to use her phone.

Oh, crap, who was he kidding? He didn’t want to use J’s phone. He wanted to use her. Kiel grimaced as he felt his entire body flare up with anticipation. He wanted to sink himself into her innermost depths and have her cover him with her soul that was like a veil of the purest silk.

He stood there for a moment and allowed himself the luxury of remembering her taste, her passion. He felt himself swelling inside his pants, and laughed. A ghost with a hard-on. That was definitely one for the books.

Opening his eyes, Kiel stared down the long hallway. Going through every apartment was going to take time. Hours. But, hey, it was part of the job. More often than not, additional information could always be gleaned from on site investigations. If it was physical evidence, it could be sent to the labs for further analysis. But if all he could gain was of the mental variety, that could prove invaluable, too. Hell, gut instinct was a cop’s most important attribute.

Kiel turned to enter the next apartment when a sudden twist in his stomach stopped him. The sensation of pain was not as shocking as the shill scream echoing inside his skull. He stumbled as he held his head between his hands, wondering what was happening to him, until a vision came crashing down.

An enormous hand holding a slick, wet stick dripping gore. Blood and tissue. It descended again and again. Over and over. And every time it was raised overhead, the redness dribbled down the wrist and arm.

The twist in his intestines tightened. It was death reminding him one more time of his dubious existence in this world. Of how unsteadily he walked the tightrope between life and nonlife.

A second cry rattled between his eyes. The truth whacked him with a proverbial two-by-four.

Someone was being murdered.

Kiel gasped at the realization. Someone was being viciously slaughtered at that exact moment. And the evil resonating from the act had him in its grip.

Systematically, he began to pop from room to room, staying inside each apartment for less than a second before going back to the hallway and taking the next door. Yes, he knew it was probably the wrong way to go about it. In the back of his mind a little voice told him just to melt through all the walls in a straight line, first up one side of the building, then traverse across the hall to go down the next row of rooms. But his ethereal shifting between solid and smoke was still too new and uncertain for him. Kiel felt he would end up running into something, delaying him even more. But doing it this way was systematic. Repetitive. It was easy to control and easier to maintain.

The fifth floor was a washout. Drifting down to the next floor, Kiel knew the moment he reached the fourth, the terror was here and not too far away. Horror was rolling toward him on invisible clouds, thick and impossible to avoid. The acrid scent of blood seeped through the walls and floors, tinting the air with its fetid presence.

It was when he reached apartment 402 that the carnage became evident. A heavy scream ripped the air just as Kiel filtered through the door. The carpet and furniture were saturated. Pieces of human detritus lay in scattered bits on the walls and ceiling. Something that faintly resembled a finger fell from the ceiling light, almost hitting Kiel before landing silently at his feet.

He ran for the back room, prepared for the worst, but the bedroom was empty. Empty of any body, or any sign of a struggle. Confused, Kiel checked the bath. Nothing. Ditto for the middle bedroom and bath.

But entering the living room again was like walking through an invisible force field. The blood seeping into the carpet was still warm, still pulsing with energy from the life forms it had spilled from.

“He’s already taken them,” Kiel muttered. “Killed them here, then took them elsewhere to be discovered.”

The deed had been done. He was too late to stop it, or to confront the killer. At that moment, Conader’s next victims were being dropped off, and chances were good the remains would be found within a few short hours.

“But why did he kill them here? Why this apartment?
Why?
” He almost growled with irritation as he paced the bloodstained carpet, searching for a clue, seeking anything that might provide an answer. It made no sense at all.

He started for the back bedroom again when his ears caught a sound. Kiel quickly appeared at the apartment balcony in time to see two squad cars running a code three as they slowed to pull into the parking lot below. Among them he spotted Sam’s car, and he instantly knew how they got to be here.

J.

Running his hands over himself, Kiel double-checked to make sure he had his human persona on correctly before popping downstairs to meet the others.

He was opening the back door just as the officers were making their way through the rubble. “In here!” he called out to them as he gestured. “Fourth floor. 402. Might want to hold off for few minutes, though. I’m not ready to release it yet.”

“How many?” It was Chui Hinojosa, a six-year veteran and excellent cop.

Kiel waved away the man’s pistol.

“Perp and victims are gone. The building’s empty.”

“Gone?”

The man looked genuinely confused, but he holstered his piece anyway. Behind him, Kiel watched Sam help J over the broken clutter. At one point she paused to stare at the cement mixer for several seconds.

Probably remembering the rebar she found there.
He made a mental note to ask her, just in case there might be something else she’d gleaned that could prove valuable.

She spotted him before they connected. The bright smile she wore was meant especially for him. Kiel had to fight the urge to kiss her in front of witnesses. If there had been just Sam, he wouldn’t have held back.

“The bodies are gone,” J announced as he took her hand.

Kiel nodded to confirm as the expected ribbon of warmth and love wove itself up his arm and into his body. He was no longer surprised by her abilities.

“J saw it happen,” Sam said.

“What?”

“She called 9-1-1 to let them know.”

Kiel turned to address her directly. “I figured you had done something with everyone showing up. Was it Conader?”

“Yes. And I got four more names. Amos, Carter, Mitch, and Foscelli.” She gave a little shake of her head. “Do any of them ring a bell?”

She looked pale. Definitely shaken. If she had witnessed those men’s death, it was no wonder. Kudos to her for coming back here.

Kiel opened his mouth to tell her the names didn’t jive.

Sam answered first. “Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah? How?”

“Tell you later. They’re waiting on us.” Sam acknowledged the two patrol officers waiting in the doorway leading into the apartment building. More people were joining them, mainly the coroner and CSU.

As they entered the building, Kiel informed Hinojosa to hold off letting the others inside until they could determine the scene was safe. The man nodded although he eyed the woman Sam was helping up the stairs.

Once they arrived on the fourth floor, J hesitated as she turned toward the hallway. Kiel noticed her reticence.

“He’s no longer here.”

“No, but his blackness is.”

He remembered the feeling of suffocation in the apartment’s living room. “You know, you don’t have to go down there if you don’t want to.”

“What I want to know is how you were able to tune in to those men being killed,” Sam broke in.

J shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve been here before, and some of this place’s psychic energy still clings to me.”

Kiel looked at his brother. “You said the names were familiar?”

“Yeah. Come here and I’ll show you.” He led them over to the window at the end of the hall. Once there, he pulled out a piece of paper from an inner pocket of his jacket. “The lab sent me a message that they’d managed to pull some names and numbers from pieces of lists the unit had salvaged from the other murder sites.” Unfolding it, he handed it over to Kiel. “I put together a quick database. Took me until two this morning, but it was worth it.”

Kiel quickly scanned the paper. “Holy shit!”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded.

“What? What is it?” J broke in. “Hey, fellas. Give the blind lady a break.”

Sam obliged.

“It’s a breakdown of Conader’s inner circle, or as complete a list as we’re able to make.”

“So where do we stand? How many more of these murders do we have to look forward to?” She turned to face Sam, and if Kiel didn’t know any better, he would have sworn her eyes were pinning the man to the wall.

“Two more,” he broke in. “One BMOC, and one pissant.”

“English, Kiel.” She grinned.

Again, Sam took possession of the ball. “One big man on campus, one of Conader’s first-string lieutenants. Don’t know his name, but his initials are…” He glanced at Kiel for help.

“L. J.”

Both them stared at her with mouths open.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a name to go with the initials, would you? Because I sure as hell don’t,” Sam asked.

“Lawrence Jaynes.”

Kiel whistled appreciatively. “Is the guy still among the living?”

J remained silent and unmoving, as if listening to something in the distance. “I don’t know,” she finally replied. “What’s a pissant? A little guy?”

“Marvin Phillips. ‘Motor Marv’. A real nothing of a middleman. Just ran delivery to the main dealers. He was completely out of the circle when it came to the big guns planning Conader’s demise.” Sam tapped the paper. “I have an APB out on him, but I’m guessing he’s two states over by now.”

“Yeah.” Kiel nodded. “Conader isn’t interested in him, anyway. He’s after the main people who set him up. And according to this, once the Shredder deals with Mr. Jaynes, he can sit back and collect his eternal pension.”

“That’s it?” J asked. “Jaynes is the last one?”

“Looks that way, if our information is correct.”

“Well, what if he’s two states over, too?” she persisted.

“I dunno. Is it possible Conader could go after him?” Kiel asked, throwing the question up for grabs.