CSI - Series Fan Fiction ❯ See-Spot-Run ❯ 1-23 ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

alking out of an overly heated car that seemed like a sauna, Morel picked up the pace a little bit as he headed nonchalantly toward the incredibly bleak building in front of him. He had a very specific job to complete, but he had never pulled one off like this before. He would have to do something he had never heard of. He had never been the one to pull the trigger, but he had to do it or John would have his, “scrawny, little, no good, piece of shit brain.”

He was now to the point where he would have to make the hardest decision he would have to make. He had gotten on the plane to come here all the way from New York. He had walked out of the airport into the cab with his accomplice already there and watched the most silent murder with a .45 he had ever seen. He had even helped dump the body in the Mississippi and watched as it motionlessly flowed down river. But now he had to decide weather or not he was going to do the said `simple' task of going upstairs, pulling the trigger, dragging the body out and then dumping yet another body into the icy river. Could he possibly do the unthinkable, what john had told him to do?

r. morel was walking through the front door he had picked and was quietly try to overcome the hair rising creek of the floorboards he was stepping on. He pulled out the now very heavy .45 out of his coat pocket which could have held a Sears fifty gallon cooler. The first few steps up the stairs added to his already growing stress level because as he placed his foot on the fourth step a door opened. Panicking he jumped, the exact wrong thing to do, to the floor and ducked behind the rail. Then a reassuring moment, a voice, the one his was to make sure nobody would here again.

“Roofous, would you shut up for once. It's three in the morning.”

Three in the morning that meant his ride would be there in forty-five minutes. He now had the added stress of a time limit on his hands. He would have to do this quickly. His feel for a quiet approach now became a who cares who sees, who cares who hears. As he drew near the door he heard soft music playing. Elton john, he always had hated the English queer, him and his queerish England music poisoning the American way to rock. Lynerd Skyynerd could kick his ass any day. After his momentary rage had subsided he remembered the mission. He ran over the steps again in his head. `Get in, Do it quick, Get out'. The only thing he was having problems with was the one thing he and John had worked on most, Step Three: Pull the trigger. As he opened the expected squeaky door, he saw the most gruesome thing he had ever seen.

I was just taking a sip of my morning coffee, when my “panic line” started to have its own panic attack. It nearly knocked me out of my chair.

“Mr. Calloway, you are a most difficult man to reach. Please tell me how it is you hide so well.”

“First allow us me to inquire as to whom it is that I have to good fortune of speaking to.”

“Gee, it sure is grand for you to use such manners. But let's quit fucking around. I'm looking at the body right now and you've got about eight seconds to explain it.”

“You know as much as I do.”

“You had better hope in the next two days you find out. Get that? Forty-eight hours from right now…..”

The line went dead with that. Looking at my watch compulsively, I had until 8:45 two days from now to find out who the mysterious caller was: where, why, how and what he meant.

Re-swallowing the supper he had eaten earlier that day, Morel stared wide-eyed at the bloody gruesome pile of what ever was left of his target. Who could be responsible for this, or have the gut for it. As he turned on the lights his stomach turned so many knots that the rollercoaster would get sick. The effects of the seen were too much for him.

A man would have to have insides of steal to pull this off. Look at all of the blood. He diced this pour couple up like a butcher.

He snapped back into reality, “WHAT, TWO? THAT WAS NOT PART OF THE PLAN”!

he bodies were about as far away from being `bodies' as you can get. All of the organs had been removed and in there own plastic baggy. The skin had been pealed completely off and folded like a new linen sheet; the eyes had been forcibly removed, as if with a pair of line-man pliers. One of them had been mutilated, as if to look inside to see what an inside-out eye looked like. All of the fingers and toes were in a gallon zip lock, along with one hand and one foot, as that is all that the mastermind had been able to `shove' into it. Whoever had it in for these people, really wanted it to be known. But why were all of the “parts” left there.

I traced the cell phone via GPS to an address in Bauxdark, Louisiana. “Talk about a field trip, Arkansas to Louisiana.” I muttered as I fumbled in my pocket to find his keys, as I find them I stare at the logo on the big one. BMW. `At least I can travel there in some sort of comfort and or luxury.' I comically thought to myself as I slid the key into the slot and made the same wrist action motion I made every time I opened my car. This time was different; there was a different sound, an almost beeping sound. I could not identify where the noise was or what it was but a gut feeling told him to split. That I did. Not five seconds later the car erupted into a blue and green fireball. “Noss.” I panted as I fell to the ground.

Morel was contemplating how exactly he was going to tell John that some one had beaten him to his target, his first target. He wondered for several hours how he could word it, he even thought of calling from a pay phone. If John did not know the number he did not pick up. This seemed to play on his side for the time being. So he hoped in his small rental, stolen rental to find a pay phone that

John had not made him use before. As he rounded the corner of third and twenty-first, he knew it the hotel phone on fourth and twenty-second; no one had stayed in that hotel in thirty years. But why there was a pay phone was still there was out of his mind but for the time being it was the best way to call and get the hell out of dodge.

Now, he had the location that would take forever to track down and now he had to make the call and take off out of dodge like a mad bat out of hell. Instinctively he unscrewed the plate covers covering the wiring of the public phone that quite possibly could have been used by FDR. The solders seemed to be in some what decent shape. He pulled out a barley charged nine volt battery and searched frantically for the connect line and the ground line. These are the two that would lead him to the ones he needed, the power lines and the connect lines. So after the desperate search was over he touched the nine volt to the respected wires. The line came alive with a loud buzz of static. Then he juggled the battery in his right hand as he dialed johns' thirteen digit number to his cell phone. He had and extension on his phone because he police was always after him. As he expected he got the voice mail. But what he didn't expect is that he hadn't decided on what he was to say. The words more of escaped him that he planned

“John the deed is done. I am now en route to said established location following said action”

Then there was an explosion in the ear he had been holding the phone. He vision blurred and then quickly turned into a white and gray haze. But he had one last thought in his quickly rotting head; did he have the right number?

As he rose he had one thought still in his mind.

Did he have the right number?

But as he sat gathering his thoughts he knew that he did indeed have the correct number. He was in a room, a fortress that only John could have designed and completed. Now the only thought clouding his mind was a horrid one.

How long?

fter the required call to the Brass for all manslaughters in the area of bauxdark, I was on my way to the nearest precinct. I needed to get a call into the pentagon. This was quickly becoming a matter of national security. The couple murdered in bauxdark was the president and first lady. And whoever had it in for them was making a statement that hard to be deciphered and heard by the public quickly. When he finally got through to the department of defense he was ready to kill the next person to pick up that phone. The only thing keeping me from killing this person was that she was the secretary of defense, Kathleen Miller. And frankly she was not about to put up with any of my crap either, so she lead me off abruptly.

“Capital of Defense, Miller. How can I help you? Make it fast.”

“Matthew Calloway. FBI I need information that would be in the form of you cooperating with me. I need all you can give me and my sector four clearance (though he did not even know for sure sector four existed, it was a good negotiation tool for him at this point) about the president and first lady. A biography on both if you will”

A long pause followed by a scream and a loud pop occurred over the phone line.

“Times up Calloway, time you paid the price for it”

Then the line went dead.

orel had heard of Calloway's travels from John and was informed to bring them to a stop. He was to locate the detective and stop his search before it got out of hand. But he had to contact him first. So after he found the corpses of his targets, he knew action needed to be taken. So he called Calloway to give him an unreachable time to have any evidence he could gathered. Of course he wouldn't, so he looked into previous cases Calloway had solved to see his process of interviews and interviewees. He found that he went straight to the seen and the up the ladder to the D.O.D. So all he had to do was get into the Department of Defense, and wait for the call.

Getting in was not the hardest thing he's ever had to do seeing as how the secretary slot has been open for years. The one person who was idiotic enough to send in a resume would receive the job and be posted the next day. Now all he had to do was find another person to dot this with him, so it wouldn't be so obvious. He figured that a woman would be a better choice for the job seeing as how women are secretaries for a living anyway, but now if two guys where that would be suspicious.

The next day he went to a Starbucks on eighty-fifth and ninth. He went around seven thirty, the average time for the working female to be up and preparing for work, which would of course include a daily stop at Starbucks. This is where he met Katlyn Mozley. He found out quickly that she liked to be called Moze. He thought that with her obvious ability to be organized she would be perfect to be his pretend secretary assistant. She hand a Prada hand bag that seemed to weigh more than she did but everything had its place and she knew exactly where it was. And where it was was only a question away. They quickly got into deep conversation as he pretended to have the same drink as her. A white chocolate cappuccino. She seemed to be of the cheery and over-excited type of person which would do nicely for the week of useless typo errors he would be having her correct. Or even the thousands of calls she would be filtering and giving the standard, “it's a good idea I'm sure, but the U.S. Government does not accept opinions or suggestions from non-senate members.”

But three days later, at nine thirty-five in the morning Moze got the call that Morel was waiting for. The one that would launch his plan to make sure that Calloway would not be meddling in his presence anymore. The call that would complete his mission once and forever.

Calloway's call.

After filtering the call and realizing that he was aloud to speak to a senate representative she passed him onto Morel. When he realized who it was he took out a .45 with a silenced barrel and blew her happy-go-luck brains all over her computer and desk. And spoke the words he had been so anxious to speak for weeks.

“Times up Calloway, time you paid the price for it”

Then he hung up.

oming off a murder I thought I heard proved to be … well, exhausting. So I called up the local police precinct to see if I could get a grip one the small situation I had on my hands. I was greeted by a woman in her early thirties. She claimed to be a night worker, which was an odd name for secretary. She said her name was Katie Golden. Suddenly our conversation went from one that was consisting of the murder I thought I heard, to one of almost normal status. Next thing I knew I was writing down directions to a new restaurant. Apparently, I was now on his way to meet a girl I had never seen in my life. To have supper with a woman that had knew nothing to the extend of the murder.

Katie and I were sitting at a corner booth at the Flame Borauge. We had both ordered a miller light. And now a tall waiter of maybe twenty came up to them. He was wearing black slacks that sagged just a little bit, a whit T-shirt with a slight ruffle on the front. He had brown dress shoes that stood out quite a bit to his slacks and he noticed when I looked at them. His eyes got a look of desperation to get the order and leave as he was embarrassed beyond all recognition. “It's okay to be nervous your first day. I would like a Number Six with fried okra and mashed potatoes.” Katie said when she finally noticed young Jeremiah Howington in the flesh.

He looked at me and asked if I needed a few more minutes. “No I'm ready” I replied. I would like a Number Seven with fried green tomatoes. And I need another beer…” I trailed of looking at Katie in a way that was asking her if she needed one as well. But she shook her head before ordering a piña colada.

he supper was superb and the happy couple both waked out of the diner with full stomachs and happy hearts. But that is where the similarities ended. The two did not have completely different ideas on the situation and each other but they were off.

As they walked to the car Katie had the worst butterflies in her stomach, but they were the good kind. The ones that said that you had found someone you want to go after and fight for, even if it means that you have a low to high chance of getting shot down. She was so anxious to see him again that as their ride came to an end at her apartment she blurted out, “let's do this again! I had a great time!” Then she sprinted out of the car and into her room. She didn't even bother to use the elevator, she ran off her energy and a few years of laziness on the stairs. When she got to her room she fumbled for her key. It was the only one she had, but it still took her five minutes to find in her purse. But when she opened her apartment she was not ready for what she would see.

I had just opened the door to let Katie into the passenger side of my '69 mustang, when I felt an odd feeling in the pit of I stomach. It was a mix of anxiety, confusion, happiness, and fear. What could this mysterious feeling be? The thought did not stay long in my head as I made a quick assessment of the area, as was natural to me from my years of FBI work. I noticed that there waiter, Jeremiah Howington, had left the restaurant. Odd. He thought to himself. He had just arrived when we walked in, nervous for his first shift. So he was extra careful as he drove her home. The whole way he noticed that Katie was a tad wound up. Maybe she's drunk? Maybe one was one too many for her. Or maybe she had the mystery feeling too. He let her off at her apartment and she hurried up like she was in a hurry to get away. The scream he heard a few minutes later made him think other wise.

Morel had been working at the flame diner for two weeks when Calloway and his date had showed up there for supper one evening. He had been very nervous as this was his first job out of collage. The added stress of the man on his trail there did not fix or even help any. He knew it was Calloway as he had been watching him for weeks. At his house, work, on the job, anywhere. But him having a date threw off the timing. He had to act fast and make an impact. When he took the order and brought back their beers he called John. The news infuriated him. “What do you mean that they are there?! Take care of this. NOW! But leave them alive. We'll deal with them later.” And with that the line went dead.

This was good news to Morel He now could take matters into his own hands. Leaving the diner he followed the couple back to the Appalachian Apartments on thirty-first and twelfth. He noticed and extra car in the spaces in front of the building. After a quick look over of the car, he found it to be either a close friend or relative to Katlyn. Now all he had to do was find them.

Walking up the backside of the complex, he found that Katie walked into apartment

314-C. but a call on her phone stalled her. Saved by an odd sound. Now all he had to do was get into the apartment. Walking into the apartment next door he found the apartments were adjoined, incase of fire. Jeremiah Howington walked right into a mess that would end with three piles of blood.

As he opened the door to go into Katie's apartment he ran smack into her best friend. Now he was in deep shit! And to make all matters worse she was a screamer. She started to hollar at the top of her lunges about how there was a burglar. “Shut up!” he said in a loud dominate voice, and hit her over the head with the butt of his .22 rifle. Mistake number two. She not only was a screamer but a bleeder. The minute she hit the floor she spewed out at least two cups of blood! But the worst part was when some old lady showed up and started to wave her cane around like she owned the place. The she took a .45 out of her purse and pointed it at him. Her hand was so shaky she might as well have been having a seizure right there. To save his life and, hers if since she was so shaky in the hands she might mis-point the gun, he fired. She fell to the floor with a loud thud. No turning back now! All he had to do now was wait. Wait for the action to be noticed and laugh hysterically at the fact that no one would know it was him. He had on a pair of sun glasses, Burkleys, and a deep colored ball cap, no facial recognition. And nobody saw him enter so his alibi of being at the diner checked out. He was set.

Katie walked into her apartment and found the horror of all horrors. Her mother and closest friend were dead in her house!

How could anybody do this? Who could have done this? Were they after her? Was Matt still down stairs? Were they after him too?

All the questions running wild in her head made her dizzy. The added nausea from the corpses of her family on the floor didn't help. Instinctively she called Calloway.

“I'm in the car. At the end of the street I just left the complex. But I heard a scream before hand, is everything okay?”

“Matt I think he was in my apartment, my mom and best friend are dead.”

“Don't do anything I'll be right there. Just get some water and try to calm down. Okay?”

“I'll try.”

Matt quickly turned his car around at the red light and hurried back to Ms. Golden's residence.

Maybe all this has to do with the president and first lady's murders. As he walked into the horrific scene he knew that it was the work of the man who killed the presidential couple.

“This man is either very stupid, or is very intent on getting caught.” I thought out loud as I walked around the room. “He leaves us the same trademark mistakes that I didn't pick up at the first scene. And I am certain I know how to find him and even where he is hiding.”

Walking out of the apartment I called the one man I knew I could trust in the mixed up phenomena. I made a phone call to a friend in high places with the government. General Jake Jernigan. Jernigan and I had made several tours in Vietnam and Korea. I knew he had stayed in after I got out to pursue my degree in forensic science and become a detective. He had always wanted to be a high ranking officer. Only recently had he become a general.

I called him at his house in Port South, Michigan. He answered the same way he had four years ago when I last saw him, “Hello sir.” In the pseudo-English accent we had been using since our sophomore year of high school. My response was also the same. “How are you sir? I am calling to acquire some knowledge you may have.” I used the same fake accent. It was a thing we had started in our sophomore English class. It had something to do with one of our assignments that our crazy coach/teacher had forced us to do against our will. Mrs. Chapman I believe her name was. The only reason I remember the name is that she was my cross country coach that took me to back to back state appearances. “I am just fine sir. How ar't thou today? Sir, tell me, what kind of knowledge do you wish to obtain?”

My voice changed abruptly back to a normal tone, “knowledge of the presidential couples death.”

“I know that the president and first lady were killed three days ago. I also know that the murderer was relentless, dismantling the bodies like no other. Along with the fact that the man left behind important clues slash information.”

“Thank you Mr. Jernigan, I appreciate said information. I will call thee when I or if I need any more help.”

“Take care sir.”

“You as well sir.”

After the phone was hung up I could not help but think about all of the information that Gen. Jernigan had. I wondered how he had obtained the information. Was he there?

Checking the internet I found a planner for the day of the murder. I was relieved to find that the Gen. was in fact speaking publicly to a middle school in the area on the subject of planning their futures. But how did he know so much? But being at the seminar put him out of the suspect list.

I decided after my quick conversation with Jernigan that I would return to Christy's apartment to asses the situation at hand. But what I found was something I actually expected to find.

Upon entering the apartment I noticed three things. Number one: one of the murders was an older woman, maybe into her mid-sixties. Number two: there was a second body, a young woman. She was no older than Katie. This must be the friend she mentioned on the phone. Number three: I noticed that nothing had been touched. No attempt at clean up had been made. Whoever had gotten into this room had either been caught in the act or was being walked in on.

I walked over to the obvious entry point, the adjoining wall of the neighboring apartment. There was blood on the Katie's side of the door but the neighbor's side was clean. This meant that the murderer had left from this side. I wondered what the rush was about as I walked over to the young woman to asses her “situation”.

As I walked up to the young woman I immediately knew her C.O.D. She had been hit over the head with the butt of a gun. The resulting head trauma had burst a blood vessel in her head, causing the brain to brain to bleed. This lead to the brain swelling and the resulting pressure could not be relieved. She died of head trauma. This was the clean murder. There was no blood, no GSR, not even trace of a fight. But there was a problem. A woman of this age should not have died with only one blow to the head. Either this man was very strong or she was hit more that once. This meant that he was either ex-military of out in revenge. Or was he trying to make a statement?

Looking at the older woman, her C.O.D was just as easy to determine. She had been shot in the chest and left to die. Right there on the floor where she had fallen, that is where she stayed. No movement of the bodies had been attempted and this was really working with my idea of a crime scene. I had never seen this kind of work before. Every time I had been to a crime scene the bodies had been moved, that had been the main reason they called me. But now I had the opportunity to work with an un-moved corpse and I was loosing my mind. Did the killer know this? I needed a break so I called the M.E.

Once he had arrived I took Katie out to supper to get her mind of the incident, though I did not honestly think either of us would eat very much.

“How are you chica? I mean I know you're not okay, but are you getting by?”

“I guess. I mean why would he do this to me? To us?”

“He's trying to get to me”

“What do you mean get to you. No, no, no, no! Don't you even think about taking the blame for this! This has nothing to do with you. This man is a freaking psycho and he is going to get caught. Don't blame yourself, please Matt the last thing I need is for you to feel bad and have that distract you.”

“I thank you for the sympathy, but I know for a fact that this man is out to harm me in any way he can. So for now I need you to do one of two things. Number One: you can stay with a relative or close friend until I find this man and track him down. Or Number Two: you can always come and stay with me.”

And with that our coffee arrived and so did our menu's.

Just after we placed our orders, I felt my phone having a heart attack in my pocket. Upon opening it I found that it was not only blocked, but the number was said to be thirteen digits long. I looked at Katie embarrassed, but she just smiled and told me that it was okay. I walked away feeling extremely bad and staring at my phone. I let my voicemail get it the first time. Once I got outside I called the number back. It was a familiar voice.

“Mr. Calloway, you are a most difficult man to reach.”

Ironic.

“So I've heard.”

“Mr. Calloway I heard of the devastating loss you have endured recently. That is a quite horrible way to be taught a lesson.”

“It is interesting that you have heard, seeing that the story has not even made the headlines yet”

“You would be amazed how fast news can travel through the grapevine.”

I changed the subject quickly.

“So tell me, what I can do for you.”

“You can try and catch me.”

Then the line goes dead.

The words I had heard made all the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. I realized that this caller was responsible for all of the murders I had seen or heard in the last two days. The priority had now changed from finding at who he was to now finding out where he was.

I went back in to Katie and informed her that we had to leave. We in fact did have to get out of there in a hurry. I knew that someone was on my tail and closing in fast and there was only one thing that I could do in return. I had to close in on him even faster. But as I was getting into my car I got a second call. I was hesitant to answer it until I noticed that it was the general.

“Calloway! I just heard about your conversation with our guy. I've got a name, a pretty rancid one but it's something. Morel. It can be anything from a pet name to a first or last name. But now we have something to go on a something to look for.”

“So where do we go from here.”? I asked

“Well I guess the best thing to do would be to go to Clint and have him check on the guy. I'll have him check alias's first and see what we get, then go from there.”

“Good. Good. Well, I'll go back to our crime scene to see if I can dig anything up. Can you get that call in today?”

“Crap! No I can't, I have way to much work to do. You would not believe all of the studying I do now-a-days. It's like I'm back in college. Can you do it Calloway, it's quite a drive to where your headed anywho?”

“Sure I'll take care of it. Just let me know what you come up with on the weapons aight?”

“Sure thing boss. See ya'.”

I began my trip the same way I begin all of my long journeys, with a stop at the local QT to get a coffee, in the biggest cup I can find, and stop at the restroom. Then I pulled into the next Sonic that I could find. From there I ordered a Route 44 cherry vanilla Coke®. Then I was on my way. It was a two and a half hour drive from where I was to where I was heading, so I had plenty of time to get in touch with Clint and see what he could dig up about this guy. Just then my phone began to jump and scream in my pocket. It would seem that my phone enjoys scaring the shit out of me. To make myself laugh I leaned up to see if I had in fact soiled myself. I finally stopped laughing long enough to answer it.

“Hello” I said now out of breathe and gasping.

“Sir, it would seem as though thy ar't laughing quite much. What at sir?”

I told him of my brief trip back to my sarcastic younger years.

“That's quite funny sir” he said between gasps.

“What do you have for me today?” I asked as my temporary insanity had subsided.

“I in fact have good news. I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Giecko. ….. But really. I have phenomenal news that you would not believe even if I told it to you in the flesh. But I am going to tell you anywho because you are the go-to guy on this and I am the investigator.”

I let the thought hang for a minute in his head and laughed when he couldn't think of a response very quickly.

“You see Clint you are the same you were back in the day, slow on your feet but blazing in the head.”

“Thanks Calloway, so tell me, what it that you have for me today is. Please tell me it isn't bad news, my day has been full of that.”

“Quite the contrary sir, you see I received a call from our guy. And I seem to be being traced in the Pentagon via cell phone, because Nathanial heard and was able to trace it down to another cell phone and even got me a name. Are you ready for this; I mean it is a bit sketchy and not very followable but it is something.”

I again left the conversation hanging waiting for him to hollar out at me and tell me, `dang it Calloway why don't you quit beating around the bush and give me a name already.' I was quite surprised when I heard his actual response though.

“Okay Calloway, I'm ready. I have all of the best tracking equipment our nation can supply and then some. Even if it is a pet name, our guy can be traced by his calls….shoot.”

The air was thick and heavy as I was fighting off a seemingly enormous lump in my throat. I finally found my voice long enough to spit out that horrid name.

“Morel.”

I managed to choke out across the line. Just the thought of almost knowing who this guy was was beginning to give me chills. The ery feeling ran down my spine like a bad virus in a mainframe.

“That's good Calloway, I was starting to think that you were going to say John Doe, or maybe even Joe Schmoe. No Morel will work just fine. I can put that in a database and get a solid result. You see Matt; our servers have a very intricate system of tracing. We follow everybody in America's activities at least once a week. So the name you have supplied me will give you more than you could have expected.”

“Great. Let me know what you get, and the rest of the guys too. Bring them up to speed. They need to know all that we do and have the right to too. I'm on my way to the crime scene in

Hellspoint. I've got Katie with me to make sure nothing happens to her that shouldn't. We'll be there and on my cell if you need us. Let me know how and what your search turns up.”

“Sounds great Calloway. I heard that Jernigan is launching a massive investigation to get this guy. Why don't you give him a call and check up on that, and I'll get started here.”

“Good idea Clint will do. G'day sir.”

“To you as well sir.”

I looked over at Katie and noticed that she was nervously playing with a pen of mine she had found on the dash. She had taken it apart and put it back together numerous times, and now was clicking it repeatedly and quickly at that. I slowed down as I approached an on-coming red light and almost blazed right through it. Realizing that I was looking at her, now with a smile, she immediately dropped the pen and froze into a mock stone expression, one that very closely resembled me when I was serious. I smiled and so did she, then she began to anxiously mess with her hair. I tossed the thought aside, she was nervous. And we all have ways of dealing with it. Guys work on trucks or work out, girls chew pens or mess with their hair.

I decided to break the tension.

“We're almost to your apartment, are you going to want to stay somewhere while I check it out? Or do you think you will be okay.”

I asked this knowing her response but hoping for the one that I wanted. For her to say, “No”. That would mean that I would be alone and be the expert there. And not have to deal with her being nervous, or worse …. Touch something. I was not the kind of person who cared and I would have much more preferred her to be with me than sitting somewhere scared. But my professional side kicked in and caused an upset in my stomach I had never felt before. The mysterious feeling again plagued my brain. My temporary predicament with myself was quickly ended as she spoke in a shaky but confident voice.

“No, I'll be okay. I want to be with you right now.”

“Alright. Hey we're coming up on the last decent place to eat until we arrive, are you hungry?”

I asked this on the pretence that I was starving and having food was a good distraction for both of us, that and I just loved Sonic when I was on the road. Her response was not one that I can say I was absolutely ready for.

“Yeah I'm starved!”

“Aight, good cause I am too. Lets whip on in here and get us a bite why don't we.”

I already knew what I wanted and spoke my order to her in a drawn out, almost sarcastic way.

“I'll have a Number Two, with both mustard and mayonnaise. I also want jalapeños, and extra cheese. Then give me a Route 44 cherry vanilla Coke.” After her laughter had subsided she said,

“And I will have a Number Two as well, but I only want pickles and ketchup on mine. I want a Route 44 strawberry limeade”

I rolled down my window and pressed the red button under the menu off of which we were choosing our calorie count from. We repeated our little charade of ordering and our total turned out to be surprisingly high for a Sonic. $11.75. Our car hop came out in surprising time. She didn't even mess up our order or our change, as it was custom for me to have bad luck at restaurants now. After paying her and receiving our change we woofed down the food as fast as we could unwrap it and get it in our mouths. It was a good distraction for both of us and one that we desperately needed. I finished my in about thirty seconds and Katie was not very far behind. When we were through with our gorging we sat in the car and held our bellies as though we might explode. It was not the fact that we had eaten too much, but instead that we had eaten it so quickly. We stayed in the parking spot for approximately forty-five minutes. But I could not stall going to do my job any longer.

I had to go back to the apartment and see what was to be found there. I was scared and I knew she was terrified, but it had to be done, now better than later.

As we pulled up to the building I could since that something was off. Just, something in my gut told me that someone was causing problems in the area. But I could not find the courage to get up and go looking for more trouble than I already had on my hands. So I got out of the car and hurried over and opened Katie's door. I looked deep into her eyes as she leaned to get out, when hers met mine I felt a connection the likes of which I will never feel again. It made my stomach twinge a little bit and the hair on my arms stood up. But I was happy inside, a kind of joy that made you feel like doing a random act of kindness. As I shut the door I noticed for the first time that Katie had stopped to deeply asses what was going on around her and that she had begun to cry to herself a little. I walked over and I didn't even ask what was wrong, I already knew. I didn't ask if she wanted to talk, I knew she didn't. I did know what she needed though, a hug. Someone to hold her and that's it, a kind of hug that said,

“Everything is okay; the world just wants to be mean right now. I'm here, and I am not going to let anything happen to you. It's okay.”

We stood there in the parking lot, in each others arms for what seemed like an eternity. For that split second I felt like nothing could hurt me, nothing could harm me in anyway. But on the same note, I felt like I was protecting Katie, like I could not and would not let anything get near her. I was the one who was being saved, but she was the one who was being helped. I looked up and around to see what was going on and saw a flash of light in front of me. It was not bright; in fact it was hardly noticeable. But it was indeed enough to catch my eye as well as Katie's. We blew it off and began to walk to toward the building.

As we neared the building, the feeling that something was off grew stronger. I could not take it any longer, I had to look around and see what was going on, and why it was messing with my stomach. I told Katie that I would only be gone a few minutes. I walked up the stairs and looked carefully at every little detail I saw. From pieces of the concrete missing, to spatters of week old blood on the wall, probably from the violent fights between couples and sometimes gangs, that happened here regularly. As I neared the top of the stair case I noted something else as well, something really hard core caught my eye. I was approaching room 315, and I noticed that there was a piece of paper wedged in between the closed door and the door jam. As I looked closer at it I noticed that it was actually a corner of a paper. On it was the name I now feared, a name that made even my hair stand up. On the corner of the paper was the name “Morel” and the letters, Gol…. . I immediately new what had happened here that night.

Morel had gained information on me that must have included the fact that I was going to supper with Katie. And it was just astronomical coincidence that we chose the diner he happened to be working at. As we left he must have taken the back route through the allies and such that weaved through the city. When I dropped her off her was heading for her room. She must have beaten him there. The paper must have been a print out of where he was supposed to go and who he was supposed to take out. But, fate did not want this to end like that. I sprinted down the stairs and told Katie my findings, everything I just discovered. She was in shock and awe that she had avoided a certain death by that short of a chance.

“What are the chances Matt, that I would walk into a murder and instead of coming after me he would run off…..”

She kept on talking, and I still regret that I didn't hear the rest of what she said but that first part really caught my attention. He was interrupted and instead of taking care of the interruption, he fled. This gave me several important details. Number One: he was new into the “crime” game and was still getting over the initial shock. Number Two: he was easily distracted and with that he was also easily frightened.

I was trying to decipher the look on Katie's face for a good ten minutes before she spoke.

“So you mean to tell me that I delayed my murder by walking in on my best friend and mothers.”

“In a sense, yes, but you are very lucky that you got away. This guy is defiantly learning on the job as well as off of it. He took the experience with you and has learned from it, I guarantee you he is watching and planning his next move. He will know everything about us, from what time we go to bed at night to what we like in our coffees in the morning.”

“Uh…UH…Uh…..UH, Matt I can't deal with the idea of some weird-o watching me all of the time, especially when I am alone. What are my options here, what am I going to do? I can't stay alone; I'll have a panic attack. The only person I know to stay with is you and…..”

She trailed off as she had obviously already made up her mind as to what she wanted to do. As she had said, she had no one immediately that she could stay with, and all of her family lived in various towns in neighboring states, the closest of which was about five hours away. I knew by the look in her eyes that she had decided to stay with me and was not going to let go of it. She had latched on like a scared school child to its mother's pants leg.

She began to plead and I was slightly amused by it as she didn't even have to ask, I wanted her to stay. The mysterious feeling was always around when I was with her, it was now a feeling that I longed for when she was away and welcomed openly when she was around. I had never had these feelings before in my life and they were the first real challenge I had to fight against myself. The battle never stopped ragging inside me, like a war of evenly matched opponents. My day dream was cut short as she began to beg again.

“Oh Matt you have all of that extra room. You even have that couch that you love so much. Ahh Matt can I stay with you, please. I feel safe around you and I know you feel like you need to protect me. Please.”

And there it stood, my manhood on the line with one decision. Should I be nice and let her stay, or make her stay at her place. The outcome was clear, so I spoke my mind, “I would love to have you. We'll get your stuff later, but first I need to make a call.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you”!

She exclaimed as she bounced around in that recognizable glee that she always had. But the happy would not last long. I looked up again for a split second from her joy and saw a man running full speed at us, her mainly. Without even thinking I ran around her and put my right shoulder into this mystery man's chest as hard as I could before he could tell what was going on.

As we fell as a panting mess to the ground I heard Katie shriek, she had just noticed what was going on was for real. Me and some guy we going at it like animals, and I didn't even know why. Was it and ex? Was it the owner of the apartments? Could it even be her father? I didn't know and I wasn't about to get my ass beat by this guy. We dodged and threw punches for about five minutes before I could finally see wear in his eyes. He was tired. My cross country days were paying off, here of all places. I was still full of rage and he was loosing his quickly. And with a finally blow that echoed out with a loud “pop”, he fell and was out cold. I could not wait to see the look on this guys face and even more let him see mine.

Try and get my Katie, yeah right ass hole.

Katie.

I had forgotten about her and now I felt terrible about it. I rushed over to her and held her as tight as I could.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” I kept saying to her “I'm sorry, I don't even know who he is, but he wasn't going to get to you.”

And not by a long shot did he have any chance. I walked over to see who this guy was and I almost screamed. I yelled out and began to dance with joy, just like Katie had ten minutes before. She walked up and asked me what was going on. I pointed to the sign of my joy, the name tag on this man's shirt.

J.Morel.

I knew I had to call Nathanial. I immediately pulled out my panic line and made his panic for once in life. I knew he had a small panic attack and it made him laugh. I was able to laugh because I recognized the feeling of being scared to death by a phone. He answered with a tone that was a kind of a disgust mixed with anger and possibly a little fear as he said,

“Hey, Calloway what ch'a got for me today”?

“I have the greatest news I've had for you in a long time.”

“You and that girl finally got hooked up.”

“No! Man I have a job.” Now I hushed my voice, “I mean I like her a lot but I do have other things to focus on.”

“Ahh. Typical Calloway: a work-a-holic with time for nothing else. Sounds familiar, oh yeah; like high school. I swear man you haven't changed a bit. But at least it made something out of you.”

I brought back my original subject.

“Anyways. Get this; I've got our guy right here in front of me.”

“NO WAY!! How'd you manage that?”

“We ran into each other…”

I listened as Nathanael gasped several times looking for something to say. I noticed that for that brief moment that even I was happy. I was happy that I had found this guy and I was even happier that he was unconscious. I looked over a Katie.

I suddenly realized that I had habit of forgetting her when something crazy went down. She was panting heavily and for a second and I was worried. I walked over to make sure she was okay and I realized she was hyperventilating. She probably was reacting furiously to the events that were going on around her. She had finally broke down and allowed herself to freak out. She was having the all famous “conniption fit”, the first time I had ever seen one in action. There was a difference though.

The conniption she was having was one of fear, one of almost desperation. I walked over to hold her and she collapsed, she was out of strength. She was tired of being strong, tired of giving so much effort, tired of acting like she was okay. I picked her up in my arms and set her in the back seat of my truck. I looked back at my phone, it was still connected. Panicking, I scrambled for something to say that would excuse five minutes of silence on his end of the line. Then a voice broke through.

“Mr. Calloway, Mr. Bush - you are a difficult pair to catch do you know that”?

Jeremiah had figured that, for the time being, the best place for him to hide was the building he had been staying at for a while. No one would think of looking for him there.

That idea was quickly shattered; driving up was Calloway and his new lady friend. He knew that he had to take care of them and quickly. Not kill them, but get them out of there. Out of his hair. Out of his sight. At least until he could think of a way to deal with them. He paced the floor scrambling to think of a way to deal with what was going on. He frantically flipped through the hours of mind shaking training that John had put him through.

He desperately needed an answer and he knew what he had to do. He had to confront Calloway. He had to show him he was willing to fight.

All he had to do now was get as much of him covered as humanly possible. Arms, legs, hands, face, hair; everything had to be covered. He could not risk being caught this early in the game. So once he was dressed, he walked out on to the walkway in front his room. He saw Calloway letting his girl out of the truck. Then she started to cry. Then good `ole Calloway saves the day with a hug.

He couldn't take the mushy stuff anymore so he walked down the stairs and headed their direction. He slowly worked his way into a full sprint heading right for the happy couple. It's too bad that Matt heard him before he got there.

Just as he was getting ready to lay a serious hit on Calloway, he bolted around the woman. Then, with impressive strength, put his right shoulder into Morel's chest. It knocked some wind out of him, but it didn't slow him down.

John had painstakingly prepped him for this. The fight. Fights he would fight often, ones in which he was the underdog. He had been hit in the stomach countless times and now he was glad for it.

One of the things that Morel began to notice about Matt, quickly in fact, was that he did not tire easily. He just kept on going and going and going. He figured it was probably adrenaline from defending his lady friend. Then it happened.

Calloway was still swinging and he could feel his strength draining fast. And with a final pop across the jaw, he was out.

What would John say?

We were in the precinct now; the crew was here, just as happy and angered as I was. Nathanael had flown in directly from D.C.; Jernigan had driven in from his hotel only a few hours away. Clint had flown in from Langley.

The place: Austin, Texas.

The time: Some time around midnight.

The reason: To beat the sorry shit out of Morel.

I was tired of pretending I was afraid of this freak. I was sick of letting my partners and the whole country hide from this guy. We were in the solitary confinement section of the precinct, in the last cell. The door was closed, no lights at all. The only light was a sporadic dance of headlamps me, Nathanael and Jernigan were wearing. We all took our turns with a free shot at this guy; no cheep shots, nothing too hard, just enough to show how pissed we were at this maniac. Enough to prove that we were in charge now.

He had no idea how any of us felt, how much any one of us wanted to take out that issue glock and put one right in between his eyes. Once we were through beating the smile off of his bitch ass face we got him out of the chair he was in and drug him to an open cell. It still had bars on it, and it was locked now, but we could still spit in his face. I could not wait to look this guy in the eyes and put the cold barrel of my standard issue on his temple, and the only real decision I had to make right now was which side I was to put it on.

He finally woke up.

I was the first to notice and moved slowly, I did not want to scare him, though it was no contest which one of us was stronger or more dominant right now. I looked him right in the eye with the burning question.

“Why”?

That's all I said, that's I could think to ask before I went totally ape-shit on this guy. The best part of the interrogation so far, was the obvious fear I struck in this guy, thereby giving me an advantage.

Then my next question.

“Name. Now.” I demanded. Being as how it was not a question I looked him straight in the eye and didn't blink, but he just starred back, through the blood streaming gently down his face and the bruise on his nose. It was obviously broken. I didn't care if I lost my badge over this, it was personal. He had tried to take out my Katie twice now and it was his turn to feel pain, because it was the force that was dishing out the hurt now. I was actually enjoying this side of the pain. I had been working my whole life to catch the people who lived on this side of the law, and here I was living it in full vibrate color.

Nathanael brought me back to reality and away from my little dream land. He had me by the arm and was pulling me away from the cretin that was behind those bars holding me back. He led me into my office.

“Matt. Get a hold of yourself! We need answers out of this guy, not his blood over our cell and your rage for an explanation. I am just as fired-up about this as you are, and I know he tried to get Katie. The important thing right now is too get him to talk.”

“Damn. Yeah I know your right. I'm sorry man, I just…Katie.” I trailed off not able to complete my sentence, besides the fact that I knew he knew the end of it already. I looked over and saw the man in cold blood. A murderer he was. I had him behind bars, where he belonged.

As the sun began to rise we had only gotten four things out of this guy, and two of those things had been him spitting at us. The first thing he told us was his name, “Jeremiah `Morel' Howington”. Then after many hours of persuasion we got another very important piece of information out of him, his employers' name.

John.

A simple name that would put out millions of hits from even the most secure database the U.S. could get its sticky fingers on. I knew that we had gotten all we were going to out of this guy and the only thing left to do was prosecute him, and give him hell on the stand.

That was easier said than done.

Turns out our buddy Morel had questioned our evidence to his lawyer, one I hated with a vengeance. She had caused an uncountable amount of damage to my bureau not to mention an incalculable amount of money lost to a waste of time, “re-visit”. The woman was not worth the second hand smoke she breathed with every breath.

Her name: Cassie Brummett

Her job: ruining lives.

She had consulted with Morel and been able to convince him that he was being held by insufficient evidence. Not a soul knows how. And I didn't understand. We had a list.

Assault (two counts)

Murder (first degree) {four counts)

Attempted murder (one count)

That was plenty enough, to my knowledge, to hold somebody for at least fifty years. But she didn't think so. She thought that he was being held on my grudges and my anger, which she thought was clouding my vision. And that's exactly how it went in court. I was the bad guy there, not the one who had murdered so many people; attacked a federal agent; and tried to kill my Katie, no I was the bad guy here.

And so, with the decision of somebody who did not respect the judicial system, a murderer was set free. Free to wander the streets feeling invisible. Free to walk around and feel bullet proof. But, this time, the stakes would be different. This time, I wasn't going to hold back. This time when I found the psycho son-of-a-bitch, I was going to make sure his ass didn't walk away.

We had to watch the guy who had run across three states, forty-five days, and a small mountain of bodies, walk away. Walk away free into the streets, walk out of our grasp, able to laugh at us, but worse- take out his rage on anybody. And, not to much to my surprise, he did just that. And who did they send to clean up the mess? Who did they send to do what he had been doing for the past three months? Who did they send because he had the best knowledge of the known criminal? They sent my ass out into the field, again, to do just that. To catch Morel a second time, the difference was this time I had to have more than attempted and first degree murder behind me. Not to mention assault.

I was getting out of my truck to walk into my house and something caught my eye. I was immediately looking for something hard in my truck to beet the snot out of somebody with. Maybe a piece of pipe or a 2x4. But, when I looked closer, I noticed it was my border collie Annie coming out to greet me with all of the panting and licking a loving companion can offer. She was the perfect size dog for us, she stood about two feet tall at the shoulder and was very docile, but she was still the kind of dog to get down and play with us like we were little kids. The best thing was that she never bit, she wasn't like that, she was a “she” after all.

As I opened the door, my giant lap pet jumped in to fill her favorite spot - my passenger seat. I petted her for a minute and let her stay there while I gathered my things and garbage. Just as I was shooing my dog out and getting out myself, there came out the door, the most beautiful woman on this earth - my wife. She walked out the door, over to me and hugged me really tight. It was the same kind of hug she had given me before I had left. The kind of hug that said, “I love you baby. Please hurry back or be safe. I love you.”

I just held her tight back, I loved her so much. She had completed me, given me the final piece to my puzzle, and I told her that often. She was the only and most important person in my life that I cared about. She was my best friend and favorite woman. She was the love of my life.

As I entered our house I immediately noticed that she had everything meticulously clean. Not a germ was existent for those minutes. She had always been a nervous cleaner. But I had been gone for three weeks, she must have gone crazy. I walked around the corner and saw one of my nervous habits rare its face at me through her. Post-it Notes. She had them everywhere. This was a habit I had developed in collage as a way to keep up with all ten thousand thoughts I had, and to make sure that I was as organized as I could possibly be. It was a game of hit and miss, sometimes it worked - others, well… in others it just didn't fit in too well.

I set my bag down next to the doorway leading into our kitchen. She immediately picked it up and carried it to our room, which I knew without looking was also meticulously clean. I followed her to the room and let her get as far as putting the bag on the bed before I stopped her. She went to open our closet and I put my arms around her. She stopped suddenly but tried to hide the surprise, she wasn't too good at this. I turned her around and kissed her. Then I went back to holding her tight, my nose just under her right ear. This is where I began to whisper.

“It's okay, I'm here now. You can calm down. He's not going to get you or me. I know you are excited, let's get a pizza and watch something on TV. I've been dieing to do something lazy these past few days.”

More than one idea in that statement was exaggerated, but all of them were true. I was tired and looking for an excuse to be lazy with Katie. I loved just being with her. Though Morel was loose and miles away, I - in the back of my head - I kind of feared what he was capable of. I did not fear the man himself, I knew I could handle what he could dish out; not knowing what he was going to dish out was what scared me. The fact that I had suggested pizza had left me wondering, but it was fast, easy, and affordable - the perfect way to be lazy.

In no time at all we had our pizza and had done all the walking we were going to. We had walked from the kitchen to our bed and set my stuff down, and against her will I had put it up. Then we had walked back to the kitchen and ordered a pizza. The last place we went was the TV cabinet to get out a movie. Then we plopped down and pressed play.

Jeremiah was more furious now than he had ever been in his entire life. He felt like killing, just for the hell of it, just to see the face of all those who would see it as a headline. The brilliant picture of his marvelous plan appeared in his head, and he smiled as he watched it play out.

6:00 A.M, the Morning News would come on with a breaking news update. “Two people had been killed in there homes and left with a message, though the message has not been released by police yet, they are stressing on the fact that it is very distinct on who it is aimed at.”

He knew right then what he had to do. He loved and hated the idea. He had to put Calloway and his “posse” in their place. He had to show them that he could bounce back quickly from being wounded. He had to show them that he was the leader of the pack.

He got in his car and drove to the corner store by his house. He figured this was a great place to play MacGyver and buy supplies, seeing as how he had to be careful who saw him now. He pulled his hood on and he entered the store and got a buggy. He strolled through the aisles for about thirty minutes, picking up and putting down random things to add to the illusion. When he finally approached the counter he had an assortment of items.

A toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a liter of Coke, and a pack of Orbit gum - the dark blue package. He paid the teller and walked out to his truck with the items in his pockets, the bag would just be one more thing to hide or deal with later.

He drove around aimlessly for a while; not really knowing what is was he was looking for. But then he pulled up to a red light and had a reminiscing, the night he got his ass kicked. That brief moment told him he was not far from those deadly apartments, and he thought, out of boredom, he would go there. Just to kind of check up on things.

He pulled up to the complex and immediately noticed a couple of things. Number one: he saw right away that nothing except times gruesome touch had tampered with it or its surroundings.

Something else he noticed right away was that no attempt to clean up the scene of his confrontation with Calloway. His blood was still on the ground. The dirt and grime of the parking lot where they had had their fight was still as he remembered it as he fell face first into it.

Suddenly, as if to be an act of something supernatural, a wave of memory lapses came over him and brought him to his knees. They were like flashes he couldn't interpret at first, like blurry visions in bad movie scenes. But, as they kept coming, gaining power in their sheer numbers, they became clearer and clearer to him. Then it hit him what he was seeing. The pieces, once put together, were the fight between him and Calloway in the most explicit detail that could be dreamt up. And just as suddenly as it came, it was gone, only a memory now completely intact that he could use. It was a memory that gave him the insight to fight Calloway, his ability to find his one weakness.

EUREKA!

I had it, finally, after all the time I had been chasing the freaking psycho that was Morel. I had the one thing I needed to put him away and have him never walk away again, if he even wanted to face daylight after this.

I knew exactly where Morel would go and why he was going there. He was heading to the place where we first met, the parking lot of that apartment complex. The best part of this marvelous thought was that I did know exactly why he would go there. It was a commonality among criminals, to go back to where they had there first real “run in” with the good guys. They were trying to find weaknesses and faults among us and thought that was the best place to start. Somehow I knew this is where Morel was heading and all I had to do was beat him there and watch.

As I was driving to the lot I was thinking of ways I could watch this guy and keep a constant tab on him, no matter what. I called Nathanael, only because he knew more about electronics and the new advances being made. I called him because he would know exactly what I needed

SEE-SPOT-RUN

Matt Page XXVI 7/2/2008

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