The Hysteria: Book 4, The Eddie McCloskey Paranormal Mystery Series (The Unearthed) (18 page)

Manetti was in the corvette with me. “You think Quick is okay?”

“Maybe not, but we need to talk to Leonard.”

“Anybody on the team worrying you?”

“You mean other than Eamon?”

“Yeah.”

I was thinking about her wrestling Strongbow for the knife and wondering why the hell she hadn’t tried to put him down with her gun.

“He locked me up before I could get to my feet,” she said, as if reading my mind. So she wasn’t really asking me what I thought of the team. She was asking me what I thought about her.

I followed Quick at breakneck speed around a curve. Pater and Eamon were a quarter mile back in the van, struggling to keep up.

Back on a straightaway, I took my gun out. “Take it.”

She hesitated long enough to get my pulse racing.

“Eddie.”

The way she said it put me on edge. I took my eyes off the road and looked at her.

She smiled and took the gun. “Safety’s off.”

I smiled too but I was watching her. She took the gun without apparent unease, safetied it, checked the action.

“You could have shot yourself,” she said.

“Better to be lucky than good.”

“Tonight we’re going to need both.”

Fifteen minutes of driving and we’d seen at least five cruisers zoom by and a couple ambulances too. The town was coming apart at the seams.

Manetti gripped her armrest as I powered through a curve.

I said, “You worried about Pater?”

“No. You?”

“I’m worried about everybody.”

“Except me.”

“Even you, darling. Even me.”

Quick blew through a red light. Brakes screeched and people screamed as I followed him through the intersection. We were coming to the middle of town where there were a lot of older shops and restaurants.

It was starting to rain. The thunder booming still in the distance. The wind buffeted the car.

A few people were on the street. A uniformed cop ran limping down the sidewalk, his shirt untucked, chasing after a soccer mom who was a block ahead and looking over her shoulder.

“Who’s the good guy?” I said.

“Don’t know.” Manetti looked at me. “Bitter pill to swallow, but we can’t save everybody.”

“I know. Doesn’t make it easier.”

We cruised through another red light. There had been a car wreck at the intersection. A pickup had somehow T-boned a parked car. An EMT crew was tending to the driver.

Manetti said, “Eamon saved your life.”

I said nothing.

“Turner would have killed you.”

“I would have handled him.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely.”             

“My wider point stands. Eamon didn’t have to warn you.”

“It’s called self-preservation.”

“Eddie.”

“Turner kills me, maybe Strongbow recovers and occupies you, that means Turner is one step closer to Eamon.”

“Pater was there. Eamon was safe.”

“Under normal circumstances that makes sense. But maybe Eamon’s thinking the same way I am. He figures nobody can be trusted, not even Pater.”

“He’s been locked away for a long time—”

“Do you have any brothers?”

“—getting the best treatment—”

“Any of your brothers dead?”

“—Eddie, he’s made a lot of progress. He saved my ass on our last mission. And I’ve got a great ass. And, he’s really watched out for Megan.”

“His wiring’s all fucked up.”

“Yours isn’t?”

“Sure it is. But not bad enough to kill anybody in cold blood.”

“I just watched you constructively waterboard a lamed Marine.”

I gave her a look.

She held up a palm. “Not saying I wouldn’t have.”

“Quit using litotes and speak plain. Would you or wouldn’t you have?”

“I’m not sure my statement qualifies as litotes.”

“Answer the question.”

“Would have. Absolutely. No fucking questions. And that scares me.”

“It shouldn’t.”

We were coming to the police station. The parking lot was a zoo.

“Why not?”

“It means two things. First, you’re human. Second, you’re not one of them.”

“The knifers?”

“Yeah.” I slid through the turn into the parking lot. “They don’t turn on each other like that. It means you’re okay.”

She gave me a weak smile. “So you do trust me.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

***

Chester Leonard was wearing a different, ill-fitting double-breasted suit.

They had him in a cell, alone. He sat on the edge of the uncomfortable-looking metal cot and swiveled his head owl-like to look at me.

“Detective, can we have a little chat with Mr. Leonard somewhere more private?” I asked Quick.

Quick shrugged, all part of the ploy, and unlocked the cell. The door swung open with a metallic groan and I motioned for Leonard to follow. He was uncuffed. We were armed but not holding. Leonard slowly got up and stared at us through the open bars for a moment.

“Leonard, we don’t have all day,” I said.

He followed us into one of the interrogation rooms. Quick closed the door behind us and we sat down at the table, all friends, one professional to the other.

“We know everything,” I said.

“Then why you talking to me?” he said.

“We want your help.”

“Take your East Coast attitude and stick it up your ass.”

I took out my gun. He sat up straight in his seat, posture suddenly better than a West Point cadet.

I showed him and Quick the revolver. Quick nodded, like he was appreciating the weapon. I stood up and walked to the other side of the table.

Leonard leaned away from me but didn’t get out of his chair.

“You don’t like guns, do you?” I said.

“I don’t like using them if I don’t have to.” There was sweat sticking to his upper lip. “I used to be a cop, and all good cops think like that.”

“Put out your hand.”

Leonard took his eyes off me and looked at Quick. “I’m not doing a damn thing this two-five is asking.”

Quick looked at me. “Two-five?”

“Half of a five-oh,” I said.

“Ah.” Quick smiled and stood. “Mr. Leonard, I think the arresting officer did not properly frisk you. I believe I see something in your hand. Please hold it out for me, open, with the palm up.”

Leonard shook his head and looked seasick.

“Or you can tell us about your friends,” I said. “Their names and where they’re hiding.”

Leonard was still shaking his head and giving me a long look when he whispered, “Emergence.”

I knew what it meant but I wanted him to explain it to me. “What?”

“They’re not hiding. They don’t have to. They’re all in plain sight. You just can’t see them.”

I sat on the corner of the table and kept my gun in my hand, pointed at him.

“Go on.”

“My job was to look for them before they knew what they were.”             

Quick said, “Turner has been paying your expenses for awhile.”

He nodded.

Quick said, “For how long?”

“A long time now.”

That explained the affluence in an otherwise middle class job. Turner had paid for Leonard’s new BMW, his new office…probably a lot of other things too.

I said, “Define
them
.”

“Huh?”

“Who you were paid to look for.”

“Both kinds.”

“What do you call them?”

“Knifers and gunners.”

“That what Turner called them?”

“That’s what I called them, before.”

“Before what?” I said.

Leonard said nothing. He looked from me to Quick.

“And now what do you call them?” I said.

“Now?” He thought about it. “It’s just us and them. No need to give it a name.”

“And you took the job, just like that?” Quick folded his arms. “In no universe does that make any sense.”

Leonard shrugged. “I wasn’t doing anybody harm. I was just looking.”

“You expect us to believe that?” Quick said.

“Believe whatever. I haven’t hurt anybody.”

“Yet,” Quick said.

“Plenty of other people have gotten hurt. Some dead,” I said.

“That’s not on me.”

Quick said, “You knew what you were getting into. You’re not smart like me, but you’re not dumb like him.” Quick motioned to me.

“When he first came to me, I thought Turner was looney tunes. I was reluctant to help because I don’t take a client’s money if I can’t help them—”

“Yeah, yeah. Spare us,” Quick said. “So what changed that oh-so-noble mind of yours?”

“Turner took me out and showed me first hand.”

“Showed you what?”

“Them.”

“Which ones?”

“Both.”

“Bullshit.”

Leonard said, “The first couple years, there weren’t many. This year was…extra busy.”

Pater and Manetti were listening through my earpiece.

I said, “How busy?”

“I lost count.”

“What exactly were you looking for?” Quick said.

“Emergence,” Leonard said.

“Somebody’s gonna explain that to me, might as well be you,” Quick said.

Leonard shrugged.

We’d get there. I knew we would. But first I said, “Turner used you because you weren’t affected.”

He nodded. His many chins flapped. “That way I could approach either side and not be seen as dangerous.”

“Then you changed,” Quick said.

He nodded. “Right. Then my mission changed.”

“To what?”

He shook his head.

I touched his hand with the gun and he shrieked.

I took the gun away. “Talk.”

“You can’t do this to me.”

“Right now we can do just about anything,” Quick said. “You’re not feeling well, you’re very sick. I’m not sure your memory of this conversation will be very reliable.”

“You can’t do this.”

I poked Leonard in the jowl with the barrel. He fell out of his chair and tried to get to the door but Quick was there, forcing him back to his seat.

Quick said, “When you come out of this and start to feel better, you’ll wish you helped us.”

Leonard sat back down. I gave him some room and stood behind him, putting my back on the two-way mirror.

Leonard said, “It was my job to help these people.”             

“How?”

“They—we—can be reasoned with to a point. My job was to find them and steer them.”

“Define steer.”

“Keep them out of trouble, offer help.”

“Money?”

He nodded. “Turner’s money.”

“He was the silent partner.”

“Right. I was allowed to tell them they had an anonymous benefactor.”

“Ken Hernando.”

“Yeah.”

Quick leaned back and let me run with it.

“How did you keep them out of trouble?”

“The urge is overwhelming. We need outlets.”

When I asked the next question, I looked at Quick. “Like mutilating racks of beef?”

Leonard nodded.

Quick shook his head. I’d solved one mystery for him. The knifers had broken into the meat packing plant and carved up the beef. He’d mentioned two other random things to me also, something about school buses and I couldn’t remember the other thing. All of the sudden, all these random acts seemed part of some larger, but still inexplicable, pattern.

It brought me back to something Leonard had said.

“Emergence?” I said.

“There are two kinds…” He looked like he didn’t know where to begin.

“Strong and weak,” I prompted.

“Yes…I was to look for larger signs…complex behaviors that had arisen out of the process—”

“Illness is more like it,” Quick said.

“Give it a name, whatever you want to call it.”             

“That is what I want to call it,” Quick said.

“Anyway…emergence.” Leonard stopped talking and seemed to fall into a trance.

“Hey, Leonard. We’re waiting.”

When he started speaking again he was back to low-talking. I told him to sound off like he had a pair.

“A symptom here or there doesn’t mean shit,” Leonard said. “I was looking for complex behaviors that arose out of the simpler things.”