Authors: Angella Graff
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” she asked, eyeing Greg who was watching her with a strange look on his face.
Ben sighed and looked around at the crowd. “Mind telling me what this is about, detective? We’re sort of in a hurry.”
The woman stared at Greg for longer than seemed appropriate, and then she gave a small shrug. “There’s been some… stuff, if you will… going on in my department, and I’ve decided to take over Burgess and Ross’ case involving the missing John Doe.”
“What do you mean stuff?” Ben asked, a frown creasing his forehead. “What kind of stuff?”
“Like I said, if there’s somewhere we can talk, I’d be happy to explain.” Her voice was clipped, short and to the point, which Ben immediately liked. She wasn’t giving off any indication that she found Ben suspect, quite the opposite, in fact.
“I have a room, but unfortunately my sister and her friend are upstairs,” Ben said. “I suppose we could find a quiet table in the bar?”
“I could use a glass of wine after my day today,” she said after a moment, and with that, she took the lead and brought both Greg and Ben into the bar.
It wasn’t too busy yet, though it was starting to get a little noisy, but the new detective managed to find a small, round half-booth near the back, where the room led to the kitchen, and the three of them sat down.
A server immediately took orders, and before long, each had a drink, and Stella was pulling out a stack of papers from her briefcase. “Now, normally I wouldn’t be entirely comfortable about sharing our little meeting with your friend, but I recognized him from the paperwork,” she said, pulling out an identification sheet with Greg’s staff photo on it.
“Right,” Ben said, taking a long drink of his scotch. He wondered why this new detective didn’t seem even remotely concerned that the doctor was with Ben in San Diego, and that Ben had not been officially signed on to the John Doe case.
“I’ve gone over the case reports from Burgess and Ross, and though I’m not exactly thrilled with their tactics, some of the information has been helpful,” she said. She shoved a stack of papers at Ben. “I suspect they never bothered to discuss the case with you?”
“Only the information they used to question me,” Ben replied, flipping through the pages.
Stella gave a little groan and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course they did. Those two idiots…” she trailed off and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t speak about my detectives that way, but I’ve had trouble with those two since they day they were promoted, and this just speaks to that.”
It was hearing that, that caused Ben to suddenly remember hearing her name before. Stella Horvath, she was the head detective for San Diego County, and she’d been in the position for nearly a decade now. In fact, Ben’s boss rather liked her and had been courting her professionally, hoping she’d transfer, for years.
Ben frowned, wondering why she’d take on a simple missing person’s case, but he decided to let her speak first.
“I called your office today, and spoke with a Joshua Rogers. He told me you were heading out to investigate a lead on your latest homicide case,” she continued. “I take it you’ve been given the case of those hospital patients?”
“Yes,” Ben said slowly. “It’s eerily similar to the John Doe.”
“Right, and I happen to agree, which is why I had to take Burgess and Ross off the case. I do appreciate them following every potential lead, but interrogating the head detective of another county without even considering what he might be working on isn’t exactly top notch detective work,” she said sharply.
“It was understandable,” Ben acquiesced. “I was connected to the John Doe long before he disappeared.”
“Do you believe in destiny, Ben? Being placed somewhere by the universe for a specific event?” Stella asked suddenly.
Ben glanced over at Greg who had choked a little on his drink. “Er, I don’t really buy into all of that nonsense,” Ben replied.
“Are you alright, doctor?” Stella asked, momentarily ignoring Ben’s answer.
“Fine, yes,” Greg said, blotting his mouth with the napkin. “Swallowed wrong. I do apologize.”
Stella stared at him for a moment before she continued. “Neither do I. However, I do believe that sometimes people just happen to be at the right place at the right time. Had you not met this John Doe prior to your case, you might not have him as a potential lead.”
“Potential lead?” Ben asked.
“Meaning he’s a missing person right now, not a murder victim, and if we can find him before he becomes a murder victim, you’ll have a better chance at solving your case.”
For the first time since Ben had met Mark and Greg, he was hearing someone make sense,
his
kind of sense. Someone was speaking with reason to the strange series of events he’d gone through, and he felt, just for a moment, like he might shed a few tears of relief.
“Does that mean Mark Roman and my sister are off the suspect list?”
“They are. Burgess and Ross couldn’t come up with any conclusive evidence linking the disappearance of John Doe to either Roman or your sister, and I’m not surprised. This isn’t the first time a priest of a Catholic parish has attempted to gain custody over an unidentified patient, especially one displaying alleged religious wounds.”
“You’re referring to the stigmata?” Ben asked.
“Correct, that was in John Doe’s initial report with your confirmation that you did, in fact, see the wounds.”
Ben blushed. “Well I saw blood but…”
“Listen, I’ve seen stranger things. In fact, I read a study where they were able to document religious fanatics displaying wounds of stigmata, weeping blood, and things like that. They say it’s something to do with the brain and something that the religious fervor triggers. It’s crazy, but it’s science.”
Ben looked over at Greg, who was staring down at his drink, saying nothing. “If you ever get the chance, you’ll have to send me the information on that study.”
Stella cast him a tense smile. “Anyhow, I am glad I ran into you detective, you’re a hard man to track down. I know you said you were on your way out, so I’ll just leave you my card and we can be in touch.” She reached into her pocket and slid her small business card across the table towards him.
“Thank you,” Ben said, picking it up and putting it immediately into his wallet.
“Doctor,” Stella said, reaching out her hand. “I suppose we’ll talk more soon. Thank you for waiting patiently.”
Greg’s eyes were narrow as he shook her hand, and he said nothing as she took her leave, her heels clicking ever so slightly on the rough tile of the restaurant floor. She eventually disappeared into the crowd, and Ben finally turned his attention back to Greg.
“I knew it.”
“Ben, please,” Greg begged.
Ben threw up his hand. “No. You know what, I knew from the bottom of my little, black heart this religious bullshit was… well, bullshit. I knew there was an explanation for all of this!”
“She’s lying,” Greg blurted out, and then sighed, hanging his head. “She’s one of them.”
“One of them?” Ben asked in a sharp tone.
“She’s an active vessel,” Greg said softly. “I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, and there’s not a lot I can do to convince you, but I’m just asking you to humor me and listen to what I have to say at my office.”
Ben hesitated. Now that he’d spoken to the detective, now that someone had used logic and reason, he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue on the path he was on. “Look, Greg, I’m sure you have your reasons for believing what you do but-”
“I’m asking for a few minutes and I will prove to you I’m telling the truth. Yes, there can be perfectly scientific, reasonable answers for all of this. In fact, I have proof of that in the form of genetics and DNA evidence. However, it’s not as simple as the mind tricking the body into thinking it has Christ’s wounds.” Greg’s voice was desperate, pleading, and Ben decided it couldn’t hurt to accompany the doctor.
“Fine,” he said and pounded back the last of his drink. “I’m agreeing on the terms that if I’m not convinced, you guys are on your own. I plan to work with Detective Horvath on this case no matter what I see, but if you can’t convince me, I’m washing my hands of your madness.”
“Deal,” Greg said, and the finality in Greg’s voice gave Ben a slight chill.
They walked out to the parking lot and Greg got into the driver’s seat. His office was a fair distance from the hotel, back over the bridge to the main land, and by the time they pulled into the hospital parking lot, the liquor in Ben’s system had run out of power and he was sober and his head was aching.
“Evening,” Greg said to the security guards as he and Ben walked through the front doors. Greg swiped his badge at the elevator doors and they opened for him. It was a short ride up to his office, and as they passed the patient hallways, Ben felt a little chill.
He knew the John Doe wasn’t there anymore, but it didn’t erase the memory of touching that man, and the things that happened after. Ben knew he’d probably never be sure what happened to him, and that, deep down, bothered him.
Greg’s office was locked and dark, and when he flipped the switch, soft yellow lamps flared to life. It was soothing, which Ben found fitting for the office of a neurologist. This was more of a patient office with a front desk, a waiting room and a few areas where Greg could do patient consults.
They bypassed all of that, however, at Greg’s lead, and eventually went into the very back, where Greg’s windowless office sat. Ben found it a bit bizarre to have his office in the very back, cramped and quiet, but he didn’t question it.
“Please shut the door,” Greg said as Ben followed the doctor inside.
Ben complied and shrugged his coat off. The office was kept at a near sweltering temperature, and he was immediately sweating. “Why is it so hot in here?”
“I tell people it’s to save power,” Greg said as he rummaged through his desk for something. “However, it’s because the portal responds better to a certain air temperature.”
“Jesus,” Ben muttered.
“Not in this room,” Greg said with a wry grin. He had a small bottle of something clenched in his hand, and he screwed the top off. “Now, this might freak you out a little, and for that I apologize. Asclepius already knows about you, so don’t think he’s got some sort of awesome power to read your mind or your past. We’ve had many a discussion about you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ben demanded.
Greg cleared his throat and took a swig of whatever was in the bottle. He grimaced and put the bottle back in the desk drawer. “Ben, I’m about to go unconscious and when I sit up, the Greek god, Asclepius is going to be inside of my body.” Greg’s voice started to slur a bit. “I’ll explain the logistics of it, if he doesn’t, when I wake up.”
Walking around the desk, Greg stumbled a bit as he approached the bookshelf. His eyes were drooping now, his gestures a little sloppy. He felt around the underside of the shelf and suddenly there was a popping sound, a lot like a wine cork being popped for the first time, and the shelf slid to the side.
Greg gave it a shove and beyond the shelf, through a small doorway, was a very black room. Tiny specks of light, like flickering candles, lay beyond, but they weren’t powerful enough to illuminate what was in the room. Greg took a step inside and flipped a switch.
Standing in the doorway, but afraid to step in, Greg saw several small lamps flare to life, bathing the room in a very yellow glow. The walls inside were stone, and images were painted in a sort of white, chalky substance. There was an altar in the back, a table covered in a bright, gold cloth and a figure sat atop, surrounded by small tea-light candles.