Crazytown (The Darren Lockhart Mysteries) (19 page)

The man had killed Mikey because of the information that was contained on his flash drives. Mikey’s father had been killed, by accident. When he had killed Mikey, he thought the information was only in his head. When he realized the information was saved on the drives, he needed to destroy them. His bomb was intended only to destroy the drives. Heath didn’t realize Michael Weber Sr. was sleeping on Mikey’s bed at the time. He had killed Professor Hubert because, without Lockhart knowing it, Mendez had saved the information on his computer, but then he e-mailed the information to Dr. Heath. Hubert could have been responsible for the spreading of the information to hundreds of people and Heath could simply not allow it.

“I mean, he e-mailed them to me—me back then…or me last week, or…uh, I mean…” The man stammered and stuttered and finally grew silent.

Lockhart had closed his eyes early in the story. He held his head up by pinching the bridge of his nose. It was all just a muddle of information. The facts that could be used were rendered useless, buried beneath a bunch of useless ranting and lost amongst the ramblings of a lunatic.

“So, you stole the laptop from Professor Mendez after killing him, then you somehow stole the flash drives from a locked safe? How?”

Heath laughed to himself and shifted his weight from side to side in his seat. “Are you serious? Perhaps you would like to hear that it was some kind of mysticism, but unfortunately, when you know the answer to the trick, it is far less intriguing.”

It was a question that perplexed Lockhart. He had dealt with theft and burglary before, but unless the chief or deputy had assisted in the theft, he couldn’t figure out how the drives had been stolen. “Humor me.”

“I have all the time in the world. Besides, it’s just numbers, Special Agent. The world is run by them, and people are shaped by them. I bet if you gave me a little while, I could figure out your ATM PIN number, too. As unwise as it is, most people will use numbers or words that are familiar to them in order to remember codes. It was a dial, so the chance it was a word was minimal—far more likely on ATM pads. Sets of three numbers are most common in dial locks. Hence, important dates are at the top of the list. The police chief’s code was his wedding date, and the deputy’s was his fiancée’s birthday.”

He was right: The truth was far less interesting than what Lockhart had worked up in his head. “And how did you know those numbers?”

Dr. Heath rolled his eyes. “Please, Special Agent. The information is all around us. Engravings, files, written on the backs of pictures—as in the case of the framed picture of Chief Donaldson’s wife that he keeps on his desk. And as far as Lisa’s birthday, well, she was a student. Student records are far from top secret. There is far more valuable information out there…”

Heath’s voice trailed off, and he seemed to dwell on those words.

Lockhart knew he was referring to the information on the flash drives. “So you killed all those people because the information on those drives was equations that will indicate the possibility of time travel?” Lockhart looked down at the journal.

Dr. Heath’s face changed, lightening, and almost began to look happy again. A certain energy returned to his posture, and his handcuffs clattered as he shifted and sat up straight again. “Do you know what a morphogenetic field is?”

It sounded familiar, but still Lockhart let out a fake, forced laugh. “Something Kirk and Spock used to deflect photon torpedoes?”

“Special Agent, if you insist on talking to me like I’m insane, I will have to insist on speaking to you like you are a child.”

Lockhart nodded in concession. At the time, it all felt so preposterous that he couldn’t help but make light of it, but he needed the man to cooperate if he was going to get the conviction to stick.

“At one time in world history, there was no such thing as nuclear power. There wasn’t even such thing as a steam engine. In both cases, we went from a period of inexistence to an explosion of invention in which the ideas and machinery was everywhere around the world. Even pre-internet, they managed to become shared ideas. You see, once an idea is realized, it is out there. It cannot be undone. It spreads like a virus to every receptive mind.”

Lockhart stood up and paced around the table. He could feel himself losing control because of what, in reality, sounded like little more than a murderer’s posturing. “Mikey and everyone else are dead because of an idea?” He stopped and slowly turned to face Heath, whose face was sullen, to the point of looking like he might actually show tears.

“You understand, don’t you?” Dr. Heath asked. “You were right from the start. Mikey, his father, Professor Hubert, a ten-year-old in Baltimore, a seventy-year-old in Los Angeles, a twenty-four-year-old in Las Vegas... Do I need to go on?”

“You
are
Jack,” Lockhart said in a low, angry voice.

Dr. Heath just stared back at him, unblinking for several moments before nodding. “Yes, I am.”

“You maniac.” His voice started as a whisper. He had never let himself get shaken by a suspect before, but he had been tracking the man for years and had been stopped at every turn. “You killed over thirty people because of your delusional fantasies about time travel?”

“I was wrong. You don’t understand. I had no choice.” The man’s face grew dark with sadness, and his fists balled on the table. “You don’t understand how hard this has been—if not mentally, then physically.” He opened his hands and turned them over and over. “I mean…look at me!”

Lockhart didn’t break his focus from Heath’s eyes. “Yeah, it looks like being caught in an explosion—that you set at your own house, mind you—doesn’t agree with your complexion,” Lockhart said mockingly.

Dr. Heath sneered. “Any fool can see my skin and burns aren’t the result of an explosion. My body shows damage from extreme heat and cold.”

“Uh-huh,” Lockhart said, nonchalantly and rather dismissively. “It gets pretty cold up here at night.”

Dr. Heath sighed loudly through his nose and nodded his head toward the journal. “Take a look at page 52.”

Lockhart was just curious enough to play along, so he read the passage out loud to make sure there was no misinterpretation:

“
Journal Entry: We knew the ring singularity would be gravitational in nature, but we didn’t account for the heat. Initial tests were not successful, resulting in combustion. It appears we need to work with the duality of temporal travel.” Lockhart turned the page. “Temporal manipulation is the key. Within both of these principles, there seems to exist a semi-stable constant to allow movement both forward and backward. There is the small chance of long-term physical and psychological effects, particularly concerning the grandfather paradox.
”

Lockhart looked up from the pages. “Kill a butterfly in the past and suddenly you were never born?”

“Something like that,” Dr. Heath replied, “but in ways we never expected. Mikey and I stood next to the time stream while still being able to participate in it. I learned that I could do things that should have kept me from ever living. If you look closer in the wreckage of my old house, you’ll eventually find enough of my body to make you question what impossible really means.” Heath shook his head with a frustrated scowl. “History changed around us as we just stood by and watched.” His eyes drooped, and he looked off at nothing in particular.

Lockhart glanced at his watch. Soon, Agent Her would be there from Bemidji to transport Dr. Heath to a federal holding facility. Lockhart wanted to see how much the man would admit before he was taken away, so the questions continued. “Why did you kill Mikey in a National Forest?

Heath looked up from his hands. He looked exhausted and forced a small smile onto his face. “I’ve known it was you who was following me for a long time. I know all about your investigation. I even know that cute little nickname you and your cohorts have for me, however off-base it may be. It’s simple: Mikey was the last one with the information. I wanted so badly for it to change. I loved Michael like a son, but the information started with him. I knew what he would do with it if he were to keep it. I cannot describe it, but being outside of time allows me to see things differently. I can feel time and space change around me. That’s how I found the people with the information, so I killed them all. Then I saw you. I needed to see what kind of a man was hunting me before it was all over.”

Lockhart sat back in his seat and adjusted his tie unconsciously. “And what kind of man am I, Dr. Heath?”

Heath leaned forward like he wanted to tell Lockhart a secret that no one else should know. “Things are happening that you don’t understand yet, but you will. Things are happening that you are responsible for. Things you must fix.”

More rambling, Lockhart thought to himself. Crayton didn’t need any more protecting than any other city in the country, and they’d be far safer with a man like Dr. Heath locked away in a prison cell. Still, Lockhart felt like prodding. “So you say you regret killing Mendez and Michael’s father?”

Heath lowered his head and looked at his hands. “Yes, very much so.”

“And the police chief?”

“I did not kill him, but yes, I regret his passing.”

Lockhart paused and shrugged, “Then, if time travel really is possible, why don’t you go back and save them? They didn’t know the secret.”

Heath shook his head. “What part of this has seemed simple to you? I can only do so much. Even if I went back and made as many changes as possible, some people are just meant to be dead, whether I have anything to do with it or not. Trust me when I say, everything that has happened, everything that has led us to this point, occurred for a reason.”

Lockhart bounced his head up and down in an exaggerated nod and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, to keep time travel a secret.”

Heath tilted his head and looked up at Lockhart with just one eye. “Yes, initially, but there is more now. Why do you think I killed Mikey in a national forest? I needed to bring you here. I needed to see the man who has been hunting me all this time. That’s why I let this play out. I needed to see if you could even catch me. If you couldn’t catch me, then what hope would this town have?”

Lockhart twitched when Heath said those words. It had all been a part of a plan from the beginning. If it was insanity, it was a planned, calculated insanity.

Heath went on. “Things are happening now that are far beyond what I can or am willing to handle. Someone needs to be here to protect these people from what is coming. I’ve seen more than you can possibly imagine—more than I can possibly deal with. I am one man and I had one purpose, but I am not strong enough to do what has to be done.”

Lockhart leaned back. “And what’s that, Dr. Heath?”

But Dr. Heath did not answer. His eyes drooped a bit and he looked down at the table. His mind was far off, and wherever it was, it was not a happy place.

Lockhart stood up and knocked on the door to have the deputy unlock it for him.

“It’s all over. In a few minutes, federal agents are going to walk in here and take you away,” he said.

Dr. Heath, with his head still lowered, said, “It’s not over for me. Almost, but not yet.”

“Why?” Lockhart asked. “Are you going to suddenly disappear in time again?” As the deputy opened the door, Lockhart walked back over to the table, rested his knuckles on the table, and leaned in, relishing the look of defeat on Heath’s face. “You are going to be locked in a hole so dark that no one will remember your name.”

Sheepishly, Dr. Heath looked up. “I will be remembered, but not for these crimes. I will face justice, but not the justice you expect. What I have done was for the greater good, but admittedly horrible nonetheless. For that I am willing to sacrifice all that I am and all that I was. It doesn’t matter anymore. No one will remember it anyway. I will make sure I pay the price for the crimes I have committed. I will make things right—at least as right as I can.”

“So what? You go back in time and change things so that none of this ever happened? We never have this conversation? I never catch you?” Lockhart chewed his lip for a moment. “You said you had to know what kind of a man I was. Well, what if I hadn’t lived up to your expectations?”

A cold, dead stare was all Lockhart got for a response.

“Then I might as well just leave you and Deputy Lind in here alone until the agents from Bemidji get here, because what difference is it going to make if all this time travel crap is true?”

“It wouldn’t make any difference, but you won’t do that. That’s not who you are.”

Lockhart had to fight the impulse to ask the man more questions. He was done. He was sick of all the double-talk and ramblings. Soon, Dr. Heath would be in a federal holding facility to face the charges for murders he’d admitted to on his own accord. So he took his hands off the table and walked to the door again.

“Special Agent, one last thing.”

“What?” Lockhart asked without turning around.

“Just this,” Dr. Heath said. “Regardless of what you think, I am a man of science, but there is one actual magic trick I know.” Lockhart looked over his shoulder. Dr. Heath held out his palms to show they were both empty. Then he closed his hands, made a small flare with his wrists, and a coin emerged in the outstretched palm of his right hand.

“I know this isn’t what you expected when it all started. I know that you wanted insight and understanding, but life doesn’t work that way. Especially not yours. You are a broken circle.”