The Demon Pool (23 page)

A frustrated Kevin Williams listened to the voices.
They had kept quiet for a while, but when they finally spoke they were not
nice. As a matter of fact, they had become decidedly unfriendly since his
failure to stop the Highway Patrol Trooper.
It’s not my fault.

He knew they could hear his thoughts.
I did
what you asked. It’s not fair to blame me for the bastard’s dumb luck.

It amazed Kevin, that Stormtrooper Demore could
be so damn lucky. I can’t be held responsible for someone else’s luck. It isn’t
fair.

Kat had tried to call him. Her cell number showed
up on his caller ID, but he was afraid to speak to her. He let the call roll
over to his voice mail. He had not even checked to see what she had said.

Martha, from the occult supply store, had also
called him, but he did not want to talk to her either. Now, the voices were
calling him. In his head. Calling him names. He wanted them to quit, to go
away, but they lived in his head and had no apparent interest in going
somewhere else. He tried to explain his new plan to get Demore, but they did
not want to listen.

“Moron. Coward. Idiot,” they said.

Those were the nice words. They shouted down
Kevin’s own thoughts, and as they continued, the names got uglier, the language
more vulgar. Kevin, in his mind, yelled back.
Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Kevin tried to drown them out with his thoughts
as he drove along the access road.
Damn you all. Damn you. Damn you. Damn
you. Leave me alone.

He patrolled along the beach, looking for some
relief from the frustration that had been, and was still, building. He needed
to feel good again. There was only one way for that to happen. Only one thing
really made him feel good.

The afternoon sun splashed into the gulf, sinking
slowly into the horizon. Soft waves kissed the mostly deserted sand, the summer
people already having left for the season. Kevin actually preferred the summer
people. They were more likely to be too trusting, less cautious. Loosened up by
near-naked, sun-ripened sexuality and copious quantities of alcohol. It would
also be more difficult for the authorities to coordinate an investigation with
the family of some unlucky victim if that family lived hundreds of miles away.
It had been a long while since Kevin had patrolled this section of beach.

“Incompetent. Loser. Impotent fool.” The voices
continued their rant. Even the principal voice, the seeming leader of the
group, had joined the chorus. Kevin fought back.
I have a plan, damnit. I’ll
show you who is impotent.

Tonight he would regain their respect. He turned
left onto a shell driveway that led to a more secluded section of beach. Palm
trees and shrubs helped to isolate the small beach park from the main access
road. Ahead, next to a cinder block bathhouse, a compact car sat stranded with
its hood up. A girl wearing shorts and a bikini top stood alone looking at the
engine compartment. Kevin drove the van just past her and pulled up to the
north side of her car. The voices quieted.

The girl stood no more than five feet tall. Very
pretty, with ample breasts and slightly thick legs. She had a built-to-please
look that delighted Kevin. Ripe for the harvest.

Kevin smiled as he looked around the area. No
other vehicles and no other people in sight. The voices began talking again, a
little nicer this time. He teased them.
You like her, don’t you, boys?

A cacophony of lustful cries echoed through
Kevin’s brain. The sensation in his groin belayed their earlier accusations of
impotence. Kevin had a question for the voices. His turn to torment.
You
want me to have her, don’t you? To do her over and over.

Their lustful cries and groans pleased Kevin. He
continued to tease them, this time speaking aloud.

“Be nice to me and it will be nice for you,”
Kevin told them.

He put on his game face and got out of the van. The
girl watched him with a mixture of concern and expectation. Kevin smiled his
best I-am-here-to-rescue-you smile. The sounds of demonic glee filled his head.
Kevin’s thoughts teased them some more and the voices laughed with wicked
delight.
You’re going to love what I do to this one.

***

The girl watched a man get out of
a van that looked like a throwback to the Seventies. She felt a slight sense of
concern, but the fact that someone had shown up tempered that feeling. She had
burned up her cell phone battery two hours earlier, sitting in the sun, getting
a tan, texting, and talking to friends. She had no classes today, and even this
early in the term, studying bored her. She welcomed the midweek beach trip as a
refuge from the usual grind of a first-year college student.

The man who got out of the van was short and a
little weird-looking, but he smiled and did not look particularly dangerous.
Actually, he was not that much taller than she was. He wore a pair of khaki
cargo pants and a tight T-shirt with a popular kids’ cartoon character on the
front. Nothing sinister.

“Can’t get it started?” he asked.

Nothing threatening in his voice, either. He was
not dangerous, she decided, just a short, weird, Good Samaritan.

“I think I ran out of gas and I ran my cell phone
down a couple of hours ago. I am so embarrassed.”

She gave him her cutest can-you-help-me-please
smile.

“Let me have your keys,” Kevin told her.

She was not sure why, but she felt compelled to
do what he asked. She gave him her keys.

He took the keys, slid into the driver’s seat,
and turned them in the ignition. The engine tried to turn over, but the car did
not start. He tried a second time, cranking the engine until it seemed that the
battery would run down to nothing. He glanced down at the gas gauge, which
rested below the “E.” He got out and closed the driver’s door.

“Yep, out of gas.” he said as he closed the hood.

“Can you give me a ride?” She asked with a
hopeful, sweet smile. “I can pay for gas.”

The man smiled back. He seemed pleased to be able
to help her.

“Sure, get in the van.”

She went around to the passenger side of the van,
opened the door, and climbed in. It surprised her how clean the inside of the
van looked. Someone had carpeted and paneled the interior. Not professionally,
more of a do-it-yourself look. Decent, but not custom, and certainly not as
nice or fancy as the almost-motor home van her parents drove. The inside of
this guy’s van had a faint smell of pine disinfectant. At least he was not a
pig.

The man climbed in next to her and closed the
driver’s door. He hit the power locks from his side. She looked at him, biting
her lip, and he must have seen the concern on her face.

“Don’t want you to fall out.”

He smiled at her, put the keys into the ignition,
and started the van. The stereo came on as the engine turned over and pumped
white-boy, wannabe rap into the cab. She listened to the music for a moment,
watching the waves roll in. An offshore wind pushed them toward the beach. She
realized he hadn’t put the van into gear, and started to turn toward him to say
she would really like to get going. At that moment, what must have been a bolt
of lightning dropped out of the sky and struck her in the neck.

She spasmed as the current from fifty thousand
volts overrode her body’s electrical system. Her vision dimmed as she fought to
remain conscious. The lightening disappeared as suddenly as it had come,
leaving her numb and unable to move.

Something pricked her arm. Her eyes closed in
spite of her efforts to keep them open. She wanted to see what had bitten her.
Smack the creature before it escaped. Her body ignored her mind, refusing to
respond.

A warm feeling flowed out from the center of what
she thought might have been a mosquito bite. Her head lolled around.
Not a
mosquito bite. Something else.

She knew she was in trouble, but knowing was not
enough. Her body refused to respond, even as the man’s hands molested her
breasts.

***

Kevin had pushed up her bikini
top, exposing her. The Taser had incapacitated her. The shot would keep her
that way. He liked the way the girl’s breasts felt. It excited him so see her
bare flesh, to touch it. It excited the voices too.

Kevin stopped playing for a moment and climbed
between the seats into the back of the van. In the back sat an upholstered box
Kevin had bolted to the van’s floor. The carpet on the box matched the carpet
that covered the floor.

A high-quality combination lock kept the box
secure. Kevin worked the numbers until it released. Reaching inside, he removed
a clear plastic tarp, which he spread over the carpeted floor. A low moan came
from the girl. The drug he had administered was just strong enough to keep her
under control until he could get her into the back of the van and properly
secured.

He turned back toward the box and removed several
pieces of rope and a long strip of cloth. He closed the box, placed the cloth
and the rope on top of its cover, and climbed back into the front seat for the
girl. Kevin moved the girl to the back of the van without difficulty.

Before the voices started visiting him, Kevin had
always been weak and puny. His physical strength had grown significantly with
the arrival of the voices. He had had no problem controlling any of the other
women, and a couple of them had been close to six feet tall.

Kevin tied the ropes around her wrists and ankles
and secured her spread-eagle to four stainless steel eyebolts fastened to the
floor in the four corners of the van. He took the length of cloth from the top
of the box and used it to gag the girl. Her eyes popped opened and stared into
Kevin’s demon-possessed eyes.
The dumb bitch knows. That’s the best part.
Too late now, princess.

Kevin straddled her hips, keeping her from
struggling against her bonds by clamping his thighs alongside her body. He
stared into her terrified eyes as he leaned forward and cut the pushed-up
bikini top loose. She tried to talk, to scream, but the gag was too tight. Her
eyes entreated him, begging for mercy. Her body shivered and jerked at his
touch. Inside his mind, the voices were happy again. Kevin planned to keep them
that way.

He looked at the girl’s breasts. The main voice
shouted, drowning out the others. He roared inside Kevin’s brain while the
other voices went silent. In his mind, he told the main voice his idea, the
plan. Kevin giggled as he shared it. He felt giddy. The main voice told Kevin
he would help him. Be his friend. His mentor. When they finished with the girl,
phase two of Get Jim Demore would begin. Kevin looked at the girl’s terrified
face.
This is going to be the best one yet
.

The voices agreed.

Jim sat in his patrol car and tried to make sense of
the past week. What should have been a straightforward investigation had turned
into a bizarre series of events filled with even more bizarre characters. A
millionaire businessman and his trophy girlfriend, a federal government
bureaucrat, a topless dancer, a polite voodoo queen, and a freak-of-nature
state employee. All tied together somehow. Maybe.

Jim rubbed his temples. His head felt better right
after the explosion than it did now.
What was the common thread?
What
am I missing?

His cell phone interrupted his musing.

“Demore here.” It was the best he could muster.

“Jim, it’s Major Kant.” Her voice sounded
serious. Almost grave.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Jim, you’ve been put on administrative leave.
Starting today.”

It took Jim a moment to get past the initial
shock.

“Damnit, major. They can’t do that. I’m in the
middle of an investigation.”

“Jim, this is straight from the director. I don’t
have any choice.” Resignation shaded the major’s voice. “Come back to Troop
Headquarters. Besides, you’re exhausted. I saw that when you were in my office.
You need a break.”

“I need a break in this case, major, not a break
from
this case. Someone tried to kill me, someone tried to blackmail me, and now the
director is pulling me off the case because of some uncomfortable publicity?”
Passion replaced fatigue. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I am not going to lay
down and let them do me. I need to talk to my union rep.”

“That’s your right, Jim, but the director gave me
a direct order. However...” The line went silent for a second. “I waited as
long as I could to call you, and today doesn’t end until midnight. You have a
few hours. Do what you can do, but at one second past eleven fifty-nine and
fifty-nine seconds, you are officially on leave. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, major.”
Leave or no
leave, I’m not giving up my case
.

“Be careful, Jim.” Major Kant cautioned him. “And
don’t even think about working on the Briggs’ case while on admin leave. That
would be disobeying a direct order from the director. No faster way to end a
promising career. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jim replied.

Jim disconnected the call. He had never
deliberately disobeyed a direct order. Ever. Not in the Corps, not as a cop.
First
time in life for everything
.

Jim began dialing again. The phone at the other end
rang twice before Saffi answered it.

***

The phone rang as Saffi read the
subject line of the email, “Unauthorized Lab Tests.”
Poop.

She closed the email and answered the phone.

“Crime lab, Stefansen.”

“Got time for dinner?” Jim Demore asked, trying
to sound upbeat.

Pleasant surprise
.

“I’ll be free in about ten minutes. Everything
okay?” Saffi asked.

She sensed the tension underlying Jim’s attempt
to be positive.

“They want me to take some vacation. Did you see
the news?”

“I’m so sorry, Jim. That reporter is a witch.”

“Yeah, although I think I would have used a ‘b’
instead of a ‘w.’”

As they spoke, Jim’s voice sounded more upbeat.

“Anyway, I need to figure some things out and I thought
you might want to help. Maybe we could ask the professor for some extra credit.
Crime Solving in a Political Environment 101.”

Saffi laughed. Working at one of the seven
Florida Department of Law Enforcement crime labs gave Saffi special insight into
the politics of crime solving.

“I like Italian or Chinese. Or Italian and
Chinese,” Saffi volunteered. “Pick me up at the lab?”

Saffi could almost hear Jim smile.

“Ten minutes. Bring your appetite.”

“See you in ten. Bye, Trooper Demore,” Saffi
said.

She had tried to sound coy. She was not sure she
had pulled it off. Maybe she had just sounded stupid.
Go ahead Saffi, make a
fool of yourself
.
You have my permission.

Saffi removed her lab coat and headed for the
women’s bathroom. She looked at her watch.
Ten-minute total makeover.

***

Jim showed up in exactly ten
minutes. Not seeing Saffi, he snooped around the lab, careful not to touch
anything. Saffi’s section of the lab dealt with blood evidence and DNA.
State-of-the-art equipment dotted the room and the lab could have been mistaken
for a university research facility. Spotless and efficient.

Jim peeked into the small office that adjoined the
lab. Two desks were crammed into the closet-like space. On one desk sat a
picture of Saffi with a group of girls. They stood next to an old school bus.
The text on the side of the bus read Gulf Coast Baptist Church. The girls all
wore jeans, t-shirts, and happy, smiling expressions. The joy on their faces
reminded Jim about how he felt the day he made it into the Highway Patrol
Academy. He wondered what was behind their smiles.

He heard the outer door of the lab open and Saffi
walked in grinning and looking very pretty. Jeans and a comfortable top created
a simple, girl-next-door look. Nothing exotic or deliberately sexy. Just a
lovely, all-American girl. Jim found himself moderately smitten.

“I hope you didn’t plan on anything fancy. I
didn’t have time to go home and dress up,” Saffi beamed. “I talked to my friend
in the blood lab.”

Saffi smiled like a little girl who knew a secret
that no one else knew.

“Okay,” Jim replied. “And what do we know?”.

Jim waited for Saffi’s reply, but she just kept
on smiling.
Must be good news. God, I hope so.

“She verified that you were drugged. Absolute
certainty. I called your C.O. and she said they would put out a press release
late this afternoon, once she has a copy of the official results. Plus, I have
a friend who works at one of the other television stations. He wants to hear
your side of the story.”

The weight of the last few days melted away. The
truth would be out. No way could the Highway Patrol keep him on leave once they
had all the facts. Saffi had really come through for him.

Jim would get the rat bastards behind this mess
and then life would be back to normal. At least until Linda called again. A
mile-long smile plastered itself to his face. Of course, when Linda called
again, nothing said he had to answer the phone.

“I know a great place to get Italian and Chinese
that has no problem with jeans...” Jim looked down at himself, “or uniforms.”