Anyway, I want to come clean and help you, because you convinced me that Wes is a better person than Tim or me. So, there is a video confession on my cell phone. You can take it to the police with this letter. You should get what you need to stop him. At least some of it. And about your other suspicions. You’re right again . . . about why they want it.
Well, I’d say I’d see you later, but I guess I won’t. So this is it, then.
Chase.
If things had gotten any weirder for me, I think my brain would’ve literally exploded. I wanted to re-read the letter until it sank in that it was possibly someone’s suicide note—right in my hand. But I couldn’t.
I was too drawn to the cell phone sitting in the box. Thoughts of what video confession he could be talking about consumed me until I found myself pressing buttons.
His screen saver was a picture of a snake on a florescent green background. The last time I had seen that image, it was tattooed on Chase’s abs at the fight club. Remembering him drugged up and fighting that guy made me shudder.
Quickly, I thumbed through his videos until I came to one dated just yesterday. On it was Chase, still in his hospital attire, unshaven with his head bandage on. I hesitantly pressed play and listened to every word as if what he had to say was the last transmission on earth.
“By the time you watch this, I’ll probably be dead, and that’s okay. The truth is, I don’t want to live anymore. What’s the point? If you can’t answer that, then how can I? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is trying to come clean before I face whoever it is on the other side.
“I’ll start by clarifying that I did not drive my own car off the road to land myself here. Timothy Walters purposely did it in an attempt to silence me from what I’m about to say. I know it was him. He was driving his girlfriend’s blue Civic hatchback.
“Why? It’s real simple. He runs an underground fight club operation, runs drugs, and is a murderer. I’ll only tell you about the last one, because if you cops do your job, it’ll be enough to put him away for a long time.
He paused and flinched as he tried to adjust himself before proceeding. Once he was comfortable, he cleared his throat.
“About a month ago, Tim talked me into going with him to search someone’s house. He told me that a guy who lived there stole drugs from him. When we got there, an old lady was home. I thought we would run, but Tim just jumped on the lady and strangled her. When he finished, he didn’t even look for drugs. All he did was take a bottle of water from an open twelve-pack on her floor.
“That’s important, because when he got back into my car he took off his gloves, drank it, and threw it into the back of my car. It’s still in the floor back there. If my car isn’t too effed-up, you can probably get it and find his fingerprints. And the rope . . . the rope he used was his. I later saw some of the same kind in his trunk. Your detective skills can probably match that up, too.
“After that day, I threatened to tell, but he convinced me that I’d be an accessory and then he offered me more of his drugs. I was addicted by then and that’s all I cared about. A couple of days later, he convinced me to get a job at Healey’s. Said he wanted me close to Sophie Slone. She was some girl he wanted me to watch because he thought she killed his grandfather. That’s when I found out the lady he killed used to work there. You get the picture.
“Well, that’s all I’ve got, so hopefully you guys can put your heads together and catch a killer . . . because Tim Walters is one.”
With that, the screen went to a message asking me if I wanted to replay it.
I didn’t.
Instead, I stared at the wall, nearly catatonic.
Unbelievable
. If ever the saying “Ask and you shall receive” was true, it would be now.
This box literally fell into my lap. It was what I needed to put the heat on Tim. If the police arrested him, I could visit him in jail. That was so much safer than having to find him in his turf.
Thank you, God. Thank you, Chase. Thank you, thank you
.
After forwarding the video to my own phone so there would be two copies, I grabbed my keys and drove straight to the police station.
There was nothing to lose, except maybe my privacy. I went over the confession again. Chase thankfully didn’t mention Wes, or what kind of drug it was. He did mention me, but he only said Tim was trying to get back at me for killing his grandfather. The police had already proved it wasn’t me, so everything had to be okay.
So what if they wanted to question me again about Andy’s death. It was worth it to have Tim right where I needed him. I only hoped they would work fast. Surely they could make an arrest the same day.
I’
d told John repeatedly that Weston hadn’t given me the information that I needed yet, but he kept questioning me. He wanted details about our discussion, so I told him everything, except that I was one hundred percent sure Weston wasn’t going to give us anything. I needed him to think I was close. The last thing I wanted was to be dismissed from communicating with Weston.
John seemed satisfied with my debriefing and made a phone call to the sergeant major, letting him know I was still on board.
“Good, Sir, yes, Sir.” He held out the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
Taking the phone, I hesitantly greeted the sergeant major.
“Dr. Carter, thank you for your efforts. Mr. Wilson has informed me that you’ve worked very hard to come up with an agreement with him.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“The only problem is, we are running out of time.”
“Okay, Sir.”
“So I’ve taken the liberty of speeding this up. I’m going to need your services.”
My heart started to race.
What does that mean? What did he do?
Sounding as professional and composed as possible I replied, “Certainly, Sir.”
“Good. We’re in Wing 3. See you in a minute.”
I dropped the phone before I heard the sergeant major’s click. The only patients we have in Wing 3 are ones locked in their cells, many restrained. What the hell were they doing?
John was right on my heels. When I reached the wing, I saw four privates hovering around one door and immediately moved them out of the way to look through the glass. Weston was inside with the sergeant major and one of my assistants, restrained on a hospital bed by his wrists and ankles. The sergeant major was throwing buckets of ice-cold water on his face and bare chest. It was a treatment we sometimes did to snap new patients out of their fits.
And
Weston was not a patient.
“I want to see Dr. Carter,” Weston gritted back with each splash.
“Tell us what you know!”
Coughing up water, he sputtered again, “I want to see Dr. Carter.”
More cold water. I grabbed the knob, but it was locked. “Let me in!” I shouted.
“In a minute, Doctor!”
I turned to John, “What the hell are you doing to him? He’s a civilian. You can’t treat him this way!”
He rolled his eyes and sighed, getting in my face again. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re on a deadline. There’s no time for playing games.”
“There is no deadline!”
“Yes, there is. One of the doctors from his lab called looking for him. We can’t detain him after today, or we risk exposure.”
“Well, you sure as hell can’t treat him like this and not expect him to expose us after he’s released.”
“Who said anything about releasing him?”
“What does that mean?”
“Last I heard he was lost in some mountains near Wintergreen.”
I couldn’t believe this. “We don’t torture people here. We treat them, remember?”
“Well, Doc, you’d better get him to talk, then.”
This was madness. I knew talking would not save Weston at this point. There was no way they would treat him like this and expect he would walk out of here and not look back. I realized then that they were never going to let him leave.
Shit.
This was not what I signed on for.
Interrupting my thoughts was another assistant carrying a tray.
“Excuse me, Doctor.”
“What is that for?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“The sergeant major requested a tranquilizer and hallucinogen.”
What?
“Give me that!” I ordered, snatching the tray. “You are dismissed. You are still under my command here.”
I kicked the door, knowing the only way to end this madness was to re-gain control. Even if it was just to stall.
The door finally swung open. “Sergeant Major, you are way out of line here!”
He looked stunned at my accusation.
“Dr. Carter, you are not the superior here, and Mr. Wilson has information this operation needs.”
I lowered my voice. “Sir, this is
my
project and
I
am responsible for what happens here. You are disrupting my progress with him. We were near an agreement before you came in here acting like a barbarian. Now let me handle it from here. It doesn’t have to be this way!”
The sergeant shifted his shoulders back, adding to his already authoritative demeanor and stood square to me. “Doctor, you are out of time. The injections have already been ordered and if we can’t pull what we need out of him after that, then not only is he going to be done, but you will be, too.”
What was that supposed to mean? And ordered by whom?
I glanced over at Weston, who was developing a strange bluish color. This couldn’t really be happening.
“Fine. But
I’ll
do it. His vital signs don’t look good.”
“You have five minutes.”
Once they stepped outside, I walked over to Weston with the tray. He was watching me with brown eyes that pierced through to the deepest corners of my guilt.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He closed his eyes in resignation. “You don’t have to do this.”
“If I don’t, someone else will.”
I hated myself for what I was about to do. With his eyes still closed, he clenched his fists making the veins in his strong arms bulge. I placed my fingers on his arm and a cold chill went down my back. He was ice cold.
“Jesus.” I jerked my hand back.
I rushed over to the door, opened it, and shouted for blankets. John and the sergeant major looked impatient.
“Thanks to you, he’s freezing. I have to get his body temperature back up or the medicine could send him into shock.”
Satisfied with my explanation, they handed me blankets that I quickly used to cover his chest, and then I tapped a vein knowing I didn’t have much time.
“Listen, this is only going to make you feel tired and delirious. Once I do this, I’ll be able to buy more time with you.”
He turned his head away and began mumbling words, “Sophie,” and then something like, “Amelia help me. Amelia make him stop.”
The way he said it made me feel even worse, like a fire of guilt was burning inside my brain but I pushed out his words and pressed the needle into his skin.
It wouldn’t break the surface.
I pressed harder and it
still
wouldn’t go in. I pulled back, looked at the needle, and checked it. Nothing was wrong with it, so I tried again. I pushed harder and it finally went into the skin, but it stopped short of the vein as if there was a barrier beneath his skin.
Panicked images bombarded my brain. Bloody, screaming, freezing cold images. Then I saw a black and white photo of him with Dr. Oliver Thomas. Or not him. Someone who looked like him. No, it was him. “Jesus Christ.” I dropped the needle on the tray.
The sergeant major opened the door, “Dr. Carter, are you finished?”
I turned, my hand shaking, “Almost . . . one second.”
He closed the door and I faced Weston again. This time he was watching me.
“What’s going on? Who are you?” I whispered.
His gaze was locked on mine as he answered softly, “You already know.”
“No, I don’t. Tell me what’s going on!”
A pounding at the door caused me to jump.
“Shit. Listen, I’m going to inject this into the blanket, but you must pretend to be very tired and to see things that aren’t there. And when I ask you questions, you better come up with some answers. They are not playing around here!”
He nodded subtly and the door came open just as I finished emptying the syringe.
I stood quickly. “I’m done here, Sergeant. It will take effect in a few minutes.”
“Good, Dr. Carter. Now we’re going to get somewhere.”
I
walked into the police station, clueless about where to start. It was nothing like TV.
The desks were black with modern curved metal legs. Marble floors and cubicles separated by frosted glass. Once I got over the contemporary décor, I refocused on my purpose. I wasn’t about to speak with just anyone. It would be pointless to feed this information to an officer who was busy with unrelated cases.
I searched for Officer Petty and the other officer who’d interviewed me after Andy’s death and were also handling Ms. Mary’s case. I’d met with them twice before and Officer Petty already noted how odd it was for me to be connected to two major crimes in such a short period. They would not ignore me, that’s for certain.
Sure, I didn’t really like the way they both looked at me like I was hiding something, but they knew about Andy and Ms. Mary, and I believed they would be
very
interested in Tim.