The Death Series: A Dark Dystopian Fantasy Box Set: (Books 1-3) (40 page)

“I didn't meet her at Gramps...?” I said to her as we wandered off to the family room.

The parents spoke quietly with the Welle's and I had a chance to look at them. Wow, maybe Bry would be kind of a big dude. Wait, check that;
he already was.
Mrs. Weller was tall, like a couple of inches shorter than Dad. But Tiff was a shrimp.

I asked her about that.

She shrugged. “I don't know, that height gene passed me by but I got hit with the AFTD right between the eyes.”

“That's not so great of a trade-off.”

“It'll be cool if we can help the cops,” she said.

I nodded, it would validate our AFTD asses, that's for sure.

There was a knock at the door and Onyx gave a soft woof.  Showtime.

Garcia came in and introduced himself to the Weller’s; we listened in abject boredom.

“Gil Weller,” Tiff's dad said, pumping Garcia's hand, “and this is my better half, Shirley.” She stuck her hand out, looking him almost in the eye.

“Good to meet you, Sergeant Garcia.”

He smiled in that disarming way of his. “Just call me Raul. I think we'll be communicating a lot. So, no need for formality. This is Officer Bobbi Gale.”

They all looked at her, way down, she was Jade's size. Maybe she was a buck ten, I thought, smiling a little.

“What's so funny?” Tiff asked.

“I was just thinking about Bry saying Jade was a buck five, and thinking Gale was about the same size as her.”

“God. That was the lamest comment ever.”

“It was Gramps... he just... I don't know...”

“He was born without a filter.”

“Like Jonesy...but not.”

“No, Jonesy is sorta harmless, but your Gramps... he's an old dude that can kick ass and take names.”

Yeah he was.

Shirley Weller gave a sharp look to Tiff, had she heard the swearing?

Tiff nodded at my expression. “Maybe, she's got, like... super-hearing or some crap. Bry and I have given up, we mime now. We'd rather look retarded than get our asses quarantined to the house.”

I heard that. But, I didn't have any siblings so I couldn’t empathize as much.

“Mac's your mom's dad?”

I nodded.

“Man, she is completely different than him!”

I nodded again, polar opposites.

“It was fun hanging out there this summer.”

“Yeah, it was. If we still get good weather we can be out there almost to Halloween,” I said.

“Don't they drain the lake?”

“Yeah. I don't remember when but I'll ask. My mom will know.”

The cops stopped all the hand-shaking BS and came to stand in front of Tiff and me.

Bobbi Gale said, in that contralto voice that
so
didn't match her, “Did ya guys have a good summer?”

“Yeah, it's been fun,” I said.

“Action-less for once,” Tiff said.

I knew what she was talking about.

Garcia said, “This will probably change that.” Our gaze went to the folder in his hand.

“First, we need to have your parents pulse their consent,” Gale said, placing her pulse-pad on the coffee table where it sat like a rotting tomato.

“Gil, are you sure that the kids, should be exposed to this?” Shirley asked.

He turned to her. “We've hashed this over to death. These kids are watching movies that are more realistic than the crime photos. And this,” he pointed to Garcia's burden he held against his chest, “is real. These are kids that are the same age as Tiff and Caleb.”

I interrupted, “We're ready. What good is AFTD if we can't catch the bastard that's doing this?”

Nobody corrected my language
.

Gil studied my face, taking my measure, then he turned to Shirley and she nodded. My folks already knew that my life was always gonna be dangerous. They just wanted to be part of it so they could help prevent as much as possible.

Good luck with that. We'd barely escaped last year in one piece: I was almost beaten up by two different dads, kidnapped by the Graysheets and stalked by the loser-duo, Carson and Brett.

Our respective parents pressed their thumbs to the consent form that illuminated Gale's pulse-pad, then leaned back in their seats where Garcia was spreading the crime photos like a deck of cards in front of us.

A fan of dead bodies splayed out before me, my first thought was: definitely not like a movie. Tiff paled a little and I gave her the guy clap on the shoulder, she steadied right up. Good.

“This is pretty graphic, so if someone needs to leave and take a moment...” he looked at the adults' faces, finally settling on mine and Tiff's, she nodded,
we're okay
.

It was utterly horrible and...very
real.

One photo in particular caught my eye and there was something about it that stirred a memory I'd had it last year too. A flash of red and some concrete.

Garcia's eyes were pinned on me. “Have you thought of something Caleb?”

“This body...” I pointed to one that had the remnants of some clothes around it.

“The one with the red sweatshirt...” Gale pointed.

She and Garcia looked at each other.

“What?” Tiff said, her faced a pinched mess,
it was getting to her.

“
This is the oldest body and...” she looked helplessly at Garcia.

“The child was reported missing about ten years ago. And, we have made a positive ID.”

Who? What was with all the cloak-and-dagger shit?

Garcia said, “It was Brett Mason's younger brother.”

WTF?

Tiff and I gaped at each other. Brett had a younger brother!? News to me!

Mom said, “I remember hearing about that, because the boy was so close in age to Caleb but I didn't make the connection.” She covered her mouth, looking shell-shocked.

Us too.

Dad had the thinking-about-Science-thing look. “The boy would be...how old now?”

Gill said, “Isn't that the family that has all the domestic...”

“Stuff,” Shirley answered, nodding confirmation.

“Could it be...?” Tiff began, “the dad,” she whispered.

“No,” Garcia said. “He's been cleared, he has an alibi.”

Too bad,
I thought, he was a putz and needed to be put out of his misery.

We all started talking at once and Gale said, “Guys!”

We stopped talking, looking at her. “We need to think about this as a local job.”

Wasn't it local?

She saw my face. “We hadn't excluded the possibility of a transient. Someone that lived here for a time, but moved on. But we know now that it is someone familiar with the area, someone who may have contact with kids by profession or some other means.”

Hell, that sucked.
Tiff and I looked at each other. Sure would have been easier if it had been Brett's dad. Or even better,
Jade's
I thought dreamily. That'd rock...

Garcia bent toward me, using the well of silence that Gale had produced to ask me, “You looked like you were remembering something...”

I nodded, I'd had that same fleeting fragment of memory edging around my head that first day I pointed out Jade to Jonesy and then he'd elbowed me and It'd slipped away. I told Garcia what I remembered.

“But what does this have to do with the dead body?” Tiff asked.

I shrugged, I wasn't sure but somehow, they felt connected. The photo reminded me of the memory.

Gale was nodding. “It's possible that somehow you're having a death-connection.”

Garcia looked at her. “Non-paranormal speak, please. Just humor us mundanes, would you?”

Garcia had a little edge to his voice. I guess there was a learning curve getting used to the paranormals. Or, maybe it was just Gale. She'd take some getting used to. She was definitely
her.
..all the time, whether ya wanted it or not.

She blushed a little. “Ah, there's this thing we're trying, with some of the AFTD's where, they get some vibes or whatever, that they can connect to a real-life incident.”

She looked expectantly at us and we stared blankly back..
. what?

Dad stepped in, “Let me try...do you mean that if there was a time in Caleb's life, that he ever met the victim, then said victim...” he paused, “
passes,
he can connect the memory to the death?”

She exhaled. “Yes, kinda. I mean, it's the AFTDs who are great murder/trauma locators that are good at this 'death-connection' thing. And, of course, they have to actually have a memory to connect. Not everyone is lucky enough.” She looked at me. “Or unlucky enough to have stumbled on the victim when they were
alive
to have the memory connection after their death.”

“You mean that I looked at the photo and immediately connected it to that memory and my AFTD 'knew' it was related.”

She visibly relaxed. “Yes.”

Wow, this just kept getting weirder.

Fine, now what. “So now what do I do?”

“We want you to touch all the bodies and see if you have more connections.”

Tiff huffed next to me, “Why do you need me then?”

“You're his amplifier, right?”

Tiff nodded. That was a swift nameplate for her.

“You can help him...
connect.
”

“He has to touch dead bodies?” Mom queried, looking ill.

“I could raise them, they'd have to, ya know... answer me.”

Garcia rubbed his chin, back and forth, like a nervous habit. “How old would you say this memory is?” he asked without answering me.

I thought about it. “Old.”

He raised an eyebrow. I thought more. “I wasn't in school for sure, I don't know, maybe earlier.”

He looked at Mom. “Maybe we could get you to think of places you may have frequented and narrow down the most public. We're sure that some of these kids were abducted in everyday locations, in broad daylight, right under their parents' noses.”

Shirley's hand flew to her mouth and Mom gasped. “Do you think...?” she began.

Garcia was nodding. “I do. I think it's plausible that Caleb may have witnessed the abduction and somehow seeing Jade connected it even before he saw this.”  He tapped the photo of the broken body on the table, the neck twisted, the clothes' brightness faded by age and the dirt that had caressed them for a decade.

Wait a sec, something didn't add up. “What does Jade have to do with it?” I asked, a worm of worry burrowing through my body, my palms growing clammy. It made me want to pulse her this second. I would the minute we were done here. Brother, creep-factor one hundred.

The cops stood and so did the parents. More hand-shaking while Tiff and I silently communicated by look how fast this had gotten bad.

Garcia was talking to us and I had missed it, my thoughts consumed with Jade... I wanted to make sure she was okay. It wasn't rational but the hell with it, I would calm down if I could pulse her.

“....and then you can....”

“What?” I asked. The Parents' eyebrows lowered into that uni-brow position that's code for
perk up or die
. Right.

“Excuse me?” I corrected. The eyebrows relaxed.

One lecture avoided.

“I was saying...” he looked at me, knowing I'd been off in dreamland, “that you and Miss Weller need to come down to the station and check out the bodies.”

No problem, Mr. Officer, just let me pencil you in so I can come do a little corpse-grope. Geez.

Out loud I said, “Okay. When...” I looked at Tiff, who shrugged noncommittally, “do you need us to come in?”

Garcia thought about it for one second. “Tomorrow would be great.”

“We know that you just started high school but...” Gale added.

“We know how important this is for...” Dad started.

“Everyone,” Shirley said and the dads nodded.

“Okay,” I said. “We'll do it.”

The cops walked to the door and Gale turned. “Remember, I'll be there too, you're not going to have to do it on your own, Caleb.”

“I know,” I said and looked at Garcia.

“Oh...” he slapped his forehead. “Yes, you could raise one of the victims but, there is a theory about that...”

I raised an eyebrow.

“They're not sure if traumatic-victims remember their attackers. The same thing that allows AFTDs to find them may disallow a Cadaver-manipulator to get a confession or whatever.”

We'll just see, won't we?

“Okay, but, since I can... I should.”

“Have you ah...” Gale asked as her hand landed on the doorknob.

“No, I took the summer off,” I said.

She looked relieved. “After the year you had, raising zombies probably didn't sound so hot.”