Blood Passage (4 page)

“
I flew in on Friday afternoon,” Josh explained. “On Saturday I interviewed the mother of the previous personality, Meredith Liu. She’s actually Caucasian, despite her last name. She’s the only surviving parent. She goes by the name Meredith Collier now. Her maiden name, I guess.” He took a mouthful of salad and swallowed before continuing. “On Sunday I went to the apartment building where the previous personality lived.”

“
By previous personality you’re referring to Martin Liu, I take it?”

“
Mm hmm,” Josh nodded. “Sorry. Dr. Walsh insists that we be very precise in our terminology. Actually, no one that I talked to apparently lived there when Martin Liu did. So it was kind of a dead end.”

Hank was thinking that any tenants who’d lived in the building when Martin Liu was murdered probably lied to Josh to blow him off. Few people were interested in talking to a complete stranger about a four-year-old violent crime.

“
Then on Monday, uh, yesterday, I went down to the Golden Dragon, the place where Ms. Liu said her son liked to spend time. I wanted to see if I could talk to any of his friends there, and also I was hoping to run into Martin’s cousin Peter. Mrs. Liu mentioned that Martin used to meet his cousin there quite often.”

“
But it didn’t go too smoothly, I gather.”

“
It was kind of a strange place,” Josh admitted. “I was very uncomfortable. It was like some kind of gaming room, downstairs under a hairdressing salon. I went down and saw a sign that said ‘Members Only’ but there was no one at the door so I went in to find someone to talk to. There were a few men sitting around playing a game with dominoes and dice in a cup.”

“
Pai gow,” Hank said.

“
Pardon me?”

“
The game’s called pai gow,” Hank said. “Go on.”

Josh explained that as he approached one of the tables he was intercepted by a middle-aged Asian man in a rumpled white suit who took him by the elbow and steered him back toward the entrance.

“
Sorry, pal, didn’t you see the sign? Members only.”

“
I’m a student from Memphis,” Josh said to the man, who was apparently a waiter. They passed a small bar at which two men were drinking tea and looking at newspapers. “I’m doing research on a person named Martin Liu who used to come here four years ago. Was he a member?”

At the mention of Martin Liu’s name the two men slid off their barstools and came over to where Josh and the waiter stood in the doorway. One of the men wore a blue suit jacket over a pale green shirt, blue jeans and red sneakers. The other, who was heavier and looked older, wore a black leather jacket and sunglasses despite the low lighting inside the club.

“
We don’t talk about members here,” the waiter said, lightly pushing Josh’s elbow in the direction of the stairs.

“
I understand,” Josh said. “That’s okay. Let me give you this.” He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a business card, realizing belatedly that the sudden movement had caused the man in the leather jacket to reach into his own pocket, possibly for a weapon. It began to dawn on him that it was not such a good idea to have come here.

He held up the card for everyone to see, then handed it to the waiter. “I’m also looking for Martin Liu’s cousin, Peter. Maybe you could give him this and he can get in touch with me. I’m staying at the Airport Inn, or he can call me at the cell phone number on the card. I just want to talk to him about Martin.”

The waiter took the card without looking at it. “Good idea if you leave now.
Now
.”

“
All right, no problem.” Josh realized that the clicking of dice and the clacking of dominoes had ceased in the room. Everyone was watching him with expressionless faces: old men, young men, and the two tough-looking individuals who now stood on either side of him.

“
Martin’s mother mentioned that he liked to come down here,” Josh said lamely. “I just wanted to talk to some of his friends.”

“
Out, gangsta,” the man in the blue jacket said. “Now.”

Josh nodded and began to leave. Behind him, Blue Jacket snatched Josh’s card from the waiter and followed Josh up the stairs. Leather Jacket brought up the rear. They went outside and the two men walked on either side of Josh along the sidewalk.

“
Pretty stupid for one of the Boyz to think he can just walk into a 14K club and start bothering people,” Blue Jacket said.

Josh frowned, wondering if they thought he belonged to a local gang or if it was just a racial slur. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I’m not in any gang. I’m a student from Thomas Gaines University in Memphis. I’m doing research.”

“
Yeah, well, research this.” Blue Jacket pushed Josh into an alley. He grabbed the strap of Josh’s knapsack and swung him against the corner of a dumpster. Josh staggered and Leather Jacket stepped up and punched him in the face. He fell to the ground and was kicked repeatedly in the chest, buttocks and thighs. Through half-closed eyes he could see a pair of grey cowboy boots swinging back and forth, striking him with shocking force. A kick in the face drove his head back against the brick wall of the alley and he momentarily blacked out. When he regained awareness he felt his knapsack being pulled away and heard one of them conducting a brisk inventory of its contents. Then he was hazily aware that Blue Jacket was leaning down to peer into his eyes.

“
Go home, stupid. Don’t come back here no more.”

The cowboy boot kicked him in the stomach and Josh curled up, retching. After an eternity he realized that he was alone. He closed his eyes and slid down into a black well of unconsciousness.

“
I
was
stupid to go there,” Josh admitted, staring at his fork. “I didn’t realize it was a gang hangout of some kind until it was too late.”

“
You have to understand that when someone’s murdered, people stay upset about it for a long time afterwards. It’s not something you can just show up and start asking questions about.”

“
Yeah, I get it. With my other case it was just a matter of talking to family and friends to develop a profile to compare to what the child was saying about his previous personality. No crime was committed, and no one belonged to a gang, that’s for sure.”

Hank finished his club sandwich and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Maybe you can explain to me a little more about what you and Dr. Walsh are researching.”

“
All right.” Josh pushed his half-finished meal aside.

“
You okay?”

“
Yeah. My stomach isn’t ready for too much food yet.” Josh folded his hands. “The Division of Supplementary Studies is the name of the area I’m in. It was created at TGU to study the phenomenon of reports by children of memories of past lives. You’d be surprised how many cases have been investigated in the last forty years, starting with the first program at the University of Virginia. Over two thousand from all over the world, and those are just the ones that have been documented. Anecdotal evidence suggests there are hundreds of other cases that have never been researched.”

“
You’re talking about reincarnation?” Hank said. “That a person’s soul or whatever moves into another body after death to start all over again, and then the child starts talking about his previous life as that other person?”

Josh nodded. “I know it sounds sketchy and New Age, but bottom line, yeah. There are many possible explanations for past life statements by young children. Paranormal causes have to be considered among them.”

Hank raised his eyebrows. “And your university actually gets funded for this kind of work?”

“
You’d be surprised. Over the years we’ve received a number of huge endowments from very wealthy people with an interest in reincarnation. It’s a lot more important to people than you might think.” Josh tapped the table with his finger. “Studies have shown that at least twenty-five per cent of Americans believe in reincarnation.”

“
Hindus and Buddhists?”

Josh shook his head. “The same studies have shown that over twenty per cent of American
Christians
believe in reincarnation.”

“
That’s a surprise,” Hank admitted.

Josh spread his hands. “There you go. Once you get past the initial barriers of skepticism and cynicism, there’s some very interesting ground to explore. These children tend to be precocious and begin to talk at an early age. They start speaking about past life memories between the ages of two to five and stop talking about them between the ages of five to eight. In some cases they eventually forget these early memories, which is not unusual since five to eight is the age span when children begin to forget most of their early childhood memories anyway. During the period when they do recall these memories of a previous life, seventy-five per cent of these children recall the manner in which they died when they were the previous personality, and in seventy per cent of these cases the death was violent and unpleasant.”

“
A con job,” Hank said. “They’re fed their lines by parents who want little Johnny to be something special.”

Josh nodded. “Our investigations are designed to root out this kind of fraud, and it does happen. We have a lengthy checklist that we go through with a whole scoring system to analyze the case. We consider the accuracy of the information, unusual behavior in the child such as specific phobias or preferences, birthmarks or birth defects that somehow connect to the previous life, the intensity or spontaneity of statements, exaggerated claims by the parents, and all that.”

“
But you’re telling me that in some cases you’ve proven these kids were reincarnated?”

“
No, you have to remember we’re not trying to prove that reincarnation actually happens. That’s not our objective. We’re not True Believers or anything. We’re conducting objective, rational research into a surprisingly recurrent phenomenon among children and letting the evidence suggest possible causes. Reincarnation just happens to be one of those possibilities.”

“
Nicely put. Sounds like a direct quote from somebody’s dissertation.”

Josh grinned. “Okay, busted. But like I said, Dr. Walsh insists that we be very precise in how we say things. We’re scientists.”

“
So that’s what brought you to town,” Hank said casually, taking out his notebook and pen. “Somebody’s kid started remembering stuff he couldn’t possibly know, and you came up here to check it out.”

“
Yeah, that’s right.”

“
You understand, don’t you, that when you start poking into an open homicide case the police are going to want to know why you’re interested, right?”

“
Yeah, I get it. I didn’t before, but believe me, I do now.”

“
I’m going to need to know the identity of this kid, so we can look into it. If somebody has information about a homicide, even a three year old kid, we’re going to need to check it out.”

Josh nodded.

“
So who’s the kid?”

“
His name’s Taylor Chan. He’s actually
t
hree and a half.”

Hank jotted down the name on a fresh page of his notebook. “Parents?”

“
His father’s Dr. Michael Chan, an assistant professor of economics at State University. His mother’s Grace Chan. She’s a real estate agent in Springhill. They live at 46 Parkland Crescent. I think that’s the right address.” He looked down and grimaced. “Oh yeah, my notebook was stolen. Wait, it’s in my PDA.” Josh took out his PDA. His thumbs rocked back and forth and he nodded. “Yeah, 46 Parkland.”

“
Thanks.” Hank wrote it down. “How’d they come to get in touch with you about their son?”

“
After Taylor started making all these unusual statements about having been someone named Martin Liu, Dr. Chan spoke to a friend of his in the Psych Department at State. His friend referred Dr. Chan to Dr. Walsh, and that’s how we got involved.”

“
I see.”

“
Mrs. Chan captured some of the statements on videotape, the day of Taylor’s third birthday. He said his name had been Martin, that his mother’s name was Merry and that he’d had green eyes. Mrs. Chan showed the tape to her cousin Peter, and he also seemed to think the statements were significant. Then apparently Taylor told Peter that two men named Shawn and Gary had hurt him.”

“
So what happened next?” Hank asked.

When Josh didn’t answer, Hank looked up from his notebook.

Josh was staring through the tinted glass into the lobby, his eyes wide.

“
What?” Hank asked. “What is it?”

“
It’s them,” Josh whispered, face rigid.

“
Who?” Hank slipped his notebook and pen into his jacket pocket.

“
Walking to the elevators. See them? The Chinese guy in the leather jacket and the other guy. He was wearing a blue jacket yesterday.”

Hank looked through the glass and saw two Asians sauntering casually through the lobby toward the bank of elevators. One wore a black leather jacket and cowboy boots and the other wore a plum-colored sports jacket, a pale green shirt, faded blue jeans and red sneakers. The guy in the plum jacket was younger, thin, and stylish in a brainless sort of way. The guy in the leather jacket was stocky and tough-looking, like someone accustomed to making a living with his fists.

“
The guys that attacked you?”