NANOVISION: What Would You Do With X-ray Vision? (3 page)

Crawling across
the floor, Daniel kept his face glued to the linoleum, taking short labored
breaths. He reached the chair and pulled himself up−his father was a
horrible mess and the sight of him like this tore out Daniel’s heart. Nobody
deserved a beating like this. With tears streaming down his face, Daniel
grabbed the rope and began working the knots binding his father.

“It’ll be all
right, Dad. I’ll get you out of here,” he promised in between painful sobs. He
cursed the knots. They were hard, tight little fucking bastards, slick with
blood, and his fingers kept slipping. He couldn’t untie them.
Fuck! Now
what?

Daniel sank to
the floor sobbing.
What the fuck was he going to do?
Then it dawned on him−get
a knife, stupid. Inching his way to the silverware drawer he yanked it open,
spilling the knives, forks and spoons onto the floor. He grabbed a steak knife
and went back to work, sawing on the rope, but the blade was dull and it didn’t
go well. He couldn’t cut the nylon cord. Unexpectedly, a voice spoke to him.
Perhaps it was an angel, his own conscious, or even his father−he wasn’t
exactly sure−only that it was eerily serene. Whatever it was, it got his
full attention.
“Leave−Now,”
it said firmly.
“Get out of the
house.”

It was all the
impetus Daniel needed. He took a deep breath and held it as he rose to his
feet. Grabbing the back of his father’s chair and using all the strength he
could muster, Daniel started to drag his father to the backdoor and safety. It
was a heroic effort though nearly impossible to complete. Steven Raye wasn’t a
large man, but he was dead weight and the floor was slick with blood and
covered by debris. It took precious minutes and an inordinate amount of
strength just to reach the back door. Once there, Daniel clumsily pawed at the
deadbolt and the chain, finally unlocking the door. His hand turned the knob
and the door flew wide open, pushed in by a hot gust of wind. For a brief
second Daniel had a glimmer of hope. It was bright outside−warm and open.
Freedom called.

Unfortunately,
the breeze was a catalyst for the gas. It pushed the propane deeper into the
house while adding more oxygen to the mix. It hit the cigarette on the floor
and ignited, and as Daniel turned to grab his father he was met by a solid wall
of flaming propane headed his way. Instinctively, he ducked down behind his
father, using him as a shield.

The house was
old−a dilapidated old shack that should have been demolished thirty years
earlier. When the gas ignited, the place exploded like a bomb−a fiery
inferno that was heard and felt for miles around the Pahrump Valley.

Ironically, it
was Steven Raye who saved his son’s life. His dying body protected Daniel from
the main force of the blistering blast even though the explosion propelled
Daniel back thirty feet into the desert. Amongst the tumbleweeds and sagebrush,
the boy fell to the ground where he lay unconscious in the dirt, hovering on
the verge of death. His hair, face and body were burned, every inch of his
flesh peppered with splinters of glass, wood, and metal−his body crimped
and crushed with half a dozen broken bones−not to mention internal
wounds. Still, somehow he survived...

Chapter 2

The sun was
hanging low on the horizon when Judy Salinski arrived at Daniel’s house, or
what was left of it. She climbed out of her car and surveyed the chaos that
surrounded her. The desert around the burned out home was a media frenzy, a
five alarm circus with the police, neighbors, gawkers, the coroner’s office,
paramedics, and press roaming everywhere, including the skies overhead. She
noted the two helicopters buzzing about, one from KLAS, the other KVVU.

Crossing the
police line, Judy flashed her FBI badge and walked to a group of suits who were
standing near the home’s burnt out shell.

“Who’s in charge
here?” she asked.

The group turned
and looked in her direction. One of the men raised his hand and broke from the
group. He approached Judy, giving her a warm smile.

“Judy, good to see
you,” he said, extending his hand.

A good looking
woman of thirty-six years, Judy was a dark-haired beauty of Polish Mexican
decent. With coffee cream skin, she stood about 5 foot 9 with a physique that
was both fit and trim. Her face had that angelic Hispanic look offset by deep
green eyes that bordered on being luminescent. She was a woman who turned
heads. Unfortunately, these were physical traits she despised and usually tried
to hide by pulling her hair back and wearing sun glasses. She considered her
beauty a handicap, especially in the FBI. Too many men, and even a few women,
had come on to her, forcing her to fight for her place. Her saving grace was
her cayenne pepper tongue, acidic temper, and a no nonsense approach to just
about everything. So, when detective Chris Kant approached she made sure he
understood. She did not return the offer of his hand, but remained steely in
her demeanor and curt in her response. Who cared if they thought she was a
bitch?

“Detective... you
want to fill me in?”

Detective Chris
Kant nodded and dropped his hand. Unfortunately, their one date had not gone
well. He motioned to the house. “House fire, one dead, the other in critical
condition. A high school kid. We EVAC’ed him to Rose De Lima about an hour
ago.”

“Arson?”

“Definitely,”
answered the detective. “But that’s not why we called you. Come on, take a
look.”

Chris led Judy
over to the burnt out house where forensics investigators were photographing
what appeared to be the skeletal remains of a body. “There’s not a lot to see,”
he warned her. “What’s left is badly burned−most of it ash.”

He pointed to the
blackened pile.

“Our best guess
is that these are the remains of Steven Raye. A small time gambler, no known
criminal record. However, when we ran his name something popped up...”

Judy looked at
Chris, thinking to herself,
Come on, spit it out...

“... which is why
we called you. It looks like Steven here may have been running numbers for
Mickey, ‘the Spoon’.”

Judy whipped off
her sunglasses, her luminescent eyes glinting in the sunlight. “Okay, you’ve
got my attention,” she declared.

Chris
smiled−for a split second he was lost in her eyes, but he quickly
regained his composure. Squatting down, he pointed with his pen to the charred
body.

“See that?...
Charlie here...” He gestured to one of the men standing nearby. “I’ll introduce
you later... believes our victim was dead before the fire got him. He found a
number of fibrous strands on the victim indicating that he was tied
up−probably to a chair. And that dark puddle at the edge of the body.
It’s from blood seeping out into the sand. Probably from a knife
wound−and we both know who loves to use a knife.”

Chris’
observation needed no answer. Judy mumbled under her breath, relishing the
revelation. “This was a hit.”

Chris nodded, “Oh
yeah, big time. Payback for something that didn’t go right.”

Judy was
definitely piqued now. “So, who’s the survivor?” she asked.

“Guy’s son.
Daniel−Daniel Raye.”

“And you think he
witnessed the murder?”

“Oh yeah, the kid
had rope burns on his arms. He was definitely tied up and I suspect he
witnessed everything.”

“Was he stabbed
too?”

“No, but whoever
did this didn’t expect anyone to survive. The kid’s in really bad shape...”

“No doubt,”
responded Judy, grimly.

She reached into
her purse, pulled out her cell phone, and began dialing numbers while Chris
continued to talk.

“Judy, I wouldn’t
get my hopes up,” he said. “The kid took a pretty good beating. And the chances
of him surviving are slim.”

Judy acknowledged
Chris with a quick nod of her head as her call went through. Someone on the
other end answered.   

“David... Judy...
Listen, I’ve got a possible witness in critical condition on his way to Rose de
Lima. I want you and Mimi to get over there right away. The victim’s name is
Daniel Ray. He needs to be placed in protective custody and I need you to get me
all the intel you can on him and his father...” She snapped her fingers at
Chris. “What’s the father’s name?”

“Steven
Raye−with an ‘e’,” answered Chris.

Judy forwarded
the information.

“...Steven Raye,
with an ‘e’. Got it? Good. I’ll see you there.” She snapped her phone shut and
dropped it in her purse, then looked at Chris.

“So, just out of
curiosity... why are you out here, anyway? Aren’t you out of your
jurisdiction?”

“Yeah,” he
responded, “but when this turned into an arson slash homicide the Nye County
Sheriff’s office called us in. We’ve got a joint task force agreement.”

“I see,” noted
Judy. “Listen, I really appreciate you calling me. Thank you.”

To Chris’
surprise, she extended her hand to him. He shook it.

“Anytime,” he
answered. “Come on; let me introduce you to some of the Nye County people.
They’ve got a good team here.”

“Sure,” said
Judy, following his lead. They walked past what was left of a burned out
Volkswagen−party now to a crime scene that would take weeks to decipher.

After meeting the
joint task team for Nye and Clark County, Judy offered whatever assistance the
FBI could provide. She then begged her leave as she had her own investigation
to follow up on. Chris followed her to her car.

“Thanks again for
bringing me in,” said Judy. “This might be the break we need.”

“Well, don’t get
your hopes up,” Chris retorted. “You know how it goes.”

“Yeah, I do,” she
replied. “Just make sure I get a copy of your findings.”

“We’ll get them
over to you as soon as we have them. Listen, Judy...”

Judy’s demeanor
turned cold. “Chris, not now, it’s not a good time.”

Peeved by her
overreaching assumption, Chris’ disposition soured. “I just wanted to suggest
that on your way out you talk with that kid over there.” He pointed to a group
of people standing behind the police line.

Judy felt like an
ass. She turned and looked across the desert, spying the kid.

“Yeah, what about
him?”

“His name is Zac
Walker. He claims to be Daniel’s best friend and he gave us a lot of
information. You may want to interview him.”

“Yeah... I will.
She paused and attempted an apology. “Chris, I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” he
replied, walking away.

*    *    *    *

It was well past
ten and Judy had been cooling her heels in the waiting room of Rose De Lima
hospital for hours. Sipping her fourth cup of coffee, she killed the time
pacing back and forth thinking to herself, while the other two agents with her
coordinated their latest effort into the investigation of Mickey, ‘the
Spoon’−a perp she’d been trying to bust for the last three years. He was
the worst. A slippery eel who managed to intimidate and badger every potential
witness she had ever found. And now it involved this kid.
Who was he? And
where did he fit in to all of this? Was there an outside chance that Benny
Marcos was involved? That would be incredible.

Her thoughts were
interrupted by the approach of her fellow agent, David Hennings. “Okay I just
spoke with Metro,” the agent noted, joining her. “I told ‘em you want to hold
off on picking up Mickey until we get a statement.”

“If we get that
lucky,” Judy responded sourly. She took another sip of coffee, then glanced at
her watch. “God, how long is this going to take? It’s been five hours already.”

David gave her a
sobering look−and she realized she was being a bitch again. Her tone
softened. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just really pissed. How many people have to
die or get hurt before we finally nail that prick, Mickey?”

“Yeah, I know,”
responded David. “They keep dying and he keeps walking.”

“Hey,” another
voice called out from across the room. “I’ve got some news.”

It was Mimi, the
third agent on their team. She put her phone away and got up from the couch, joining
David and Judy.

 “That was
Charlie from Nye County forensics. He said they’re in the process of forwarding
the lab work over to Metro, but they’ve got some preliminary results including
a tentative timetable on Steven Raye’s death. He said it occurred at
approximately 3:20 PM and that he definitely did not die from the fire.”

“Do they have
confirmation on how he died?” asked Judy.

“Nothing
conclusive yet,” answered Mimi. “But they identified the fibers on the victim
as nylon rope−so we know he was definitely tied up. Charlie said they’ll
have more for us in a few days, but it’s going to take time to sort through all
the evidence. Much of what they’re finding is useless rubble, the fire was so
hot in places it actually turned the sand into glass.

“Wow!” exclaimed
David, “that’s one hell of a barbeque.”

Judy shook her
head. “So we don’t have a murder weapon−damn it.”

Mimi started to
respond, but was cut off by the sound of hospital doors opening. The three
agents turned. From across the room, three doctors dressed in hospital garb
entered the waiting room. They were talking amongst themselves when one of them
excused himself. He broke away and approached the agents while the other two
doctors left.

“Excuse me, I’m
Doctor Anderson,” the man said, stopping before them. He removed his surgical
cap. “I understand you wanted to see me?

Judy pulled her
badge from her purse and flashed her ID.    

“Good evening,
Doctor,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’m Judy Salinski, lead field coordinator
of the FBI’s organized crime division in Las Vegas. These are agents Hennings
and Atwater.”

“A pleasure,” the
doctor responded, shaking each of their hands. “So what can I do for the FBI?”

“We’re here for
Daniel Raye, the boy you just operated on,” said Judy. “How’s he doing?”

“Not good,”
replied the doctor. “We had to remove a portion of his skull to extract a
number of bone fragments that were putting pressure on the brain. There’s still
some swelling, but we’ve done all we can for now. He’s being transferred to ICU
and we’re monitoring him...”

“Did he ever
regain consciousness−or say anything?”

“No... In fact we
had to place him into a comatose state in order to perform the surgery. He’ll
be on thiopental until he stabilizes.”

“Can he be
moved?” asked Judy.

“Where?” asked
the doctor, raising his eyebrows.

“Another
hospital−out of state.”

Perplexed,
Anderson gave Judy a quizzical look. “Hardly,” he answered. “Look, I’m going to
be frank with you. The kid’s probably not going to survive the night. He’s got
head injuries, broken bones, second and third degree burns on his hands, arms,
and legs and that’s just the beginning. Honestly, I can’t believe he survived
this long.”

Unexpectedly, the
conversation between the doctor and the agents was interrupted as several
newcomers entered the waiting area. Their appearance triggered Judy’s
suspicious nature. She quickly pressed the doctor for information.

“What floor is
ICU?” she demanded.

“Third floor.”

Judy shot Mimi a
look. “See that it’s secure.”

“Will do,”
responded Mimi, moving quickly to the couch to grab her purse and
briefcase−she was out the door in two seconds.

“Doctor, where’s
the boy now?” asked Judy.

“He’s been moved
to recovery.”

“Where’s that?”

The doctor
pointed to the area from where he had come. “Just past these doors, down the
hall to your left.”

“David, get in
there and don’t let him out of your sight.”

“You got it! Doc,
it was a pleasure.”