Disturb (10 page)

Dr. Nikos had been the only other person that knew about this place—Red had needed his permission and funding to set it up. But Nikos hadn’t even known the tip of it.

Along the walls, in racks, were dozens of labeled CDRs. The computer looked like any other modest system, unless you examined the back and noticed the extra cables running to and from the CPU. Red typed a command and the sound came up on the speakers.

Moaning and breathing, from Manny’s room.

Red smiled. He’d been right. He checked to make sure it was being burned on the CD, and then turned the sound down.

Bugging Manny’s room had been his idea. Red was an ethical doctor, but this was an exceptional case. Manny was his patient, yes, and he wanted to help him. But first and foremost, Manny was a guinea pig for an experimental drug. Red’s job here was to evaluate the psychological effect it had on Manny, and if that meant violating his trust, so be it.

It was a good thing he did, because some of the things Red had recorded were extraordinary.

He took down a CD labeled “MANNY and DAVID #7”, put it in the second disk drive, and turned up the volume.

Voices filled the small room, David and Manny in a heated argument. Red sat down and picked up his notebook, leafing through it.

“You cover for me. You always cover for me.”

“I have to, David. You’re my brother.”

Red squinted at his handwriting, wishing it were more legible. He found the session he wanted and read. Manny had been talking about his youth, describing an instance where David killed a neighbor’s dog. Manny told their foster parents. David was sent to juvenile hall, and like most kids in juvee, he’d been abused.

Manny had never gotten over the guilt of doing that to his brother. Even though Manny hadn’t been the one to beat the animal to death, he felt responsible.

“Stop it, David! You’re hurting me!”

Red pursed his lips, listening to the tape, wondering if he could actually hear the singeing sound of the hot iron on skin or if it was his imagination.

He questioned, yet again, if he should have attempted to stop it. True, Manny’s healing abilities were accelerated, but shouldn’t he have stepped in and tried to prevent him from being hurt?

“Not my job.” Red said the words to reaffirm his decision. “My job is to observe and evaluate.”

Dr. Nikos had never known about the friction between Manny and David. Red had planned on telling him, but had wanted to gather enough data to formulate a diagnosis first. He knew David was violent, but was unsure if his incessant mention of homicide was real or imaginary. He believed that David would never actually kill someone. It was just tough talk; bravado and swagger.

Or was it?

A sobering thought, especially in light of Dr. Nikos’s murder. But Red was sure it couldn’t have been David. David hadn’t been there.

No, someone else killed Dr. Nikos. Red set it in his mind. It had to have been someone else.

He popped out the CD and checked on the sounds in Manny’s room.

More moaning and groaning.

Red smiled. “Ah, youth.”

He left it on, again telling himself it was for professional rather than prurient reasons. Theena intrigued him. As a Freudian, he was immediately aware of the complex she suffered from; it was her primary motivation for beginning the affair with Manny. Red was unsure of her motive in this instance.

It might have been the need for sex, but she seemed to have been getting enough of that already. Was she doing it with Bill out of pity?

The moans didn’t sound like pity to Red.

Something else then. Romantic feelings, perhaps? Or perhaps Bill was a more appropriate substitute than Manny was.

Red switched off the sound and left the room, locking the door behind him. Fascinating as she was, Theena wasn’t his patient. She had a right to her secrets.

He did, however, pocket a CD labeled MANNY and THEENA #4, to listen to later.

It was only lunch time, but with Manny still missing, Red had no reason to stay at DruTech. He pondered going into the office downtown, but everything there could wait.

Red chose to go home. Rather than track down his fellow employees to inform them he was going, he used the intercom. Units were in every room, on the wall next to the entrance. He stood next to his and pressed the speak button.

“I’m heading home. Good day, everyone.”

His voice echoed loudly over the house speakers, imbedded in all the ceilings throughout the complex. A moment later, the speakers bellowed with a feminine voice.

“GOOD-BYE, DR. RED.”

Red smiled. Julia always responded. He hardly ever talked to her professionally, but he knew her shy nature made self-reaffirmation through others a necessity. In return she always offered affirmation back in greetings and farewells.

He knew she was awaiting a response, and he gave it to her.

“Good-bye, Julia. See you tomorrow.”

“SEE YOU TOMORROW.”

“Have a nice day.”

“YOU TOO. HAVE A NICE DAY.”

He could have replied again, knowing Julia would keep this up forever. But amusing as it was, he wanted to get on his way.

Red owned a ranch house in the wealthy town of Barrington. The sun was out in full force, and in the parking lot Red paused to take some big, full breaths. Autumn was in the air, with its own special, earthy smell.

The weather was mild enough to roll down the windows halfway, and he took a route through the forest preserve to see the trees turning. Nature pleased Red, and fall colors were a special delight. The leaves reminded him of his youth, placing them under paper and rubbing them with a crayon to get impressions. Simple tactile pleasures.

The hit from behind was wholly unexpected.

Red always drove under the speed limit. Mostly for safety’s sake, but he also got a secret pleasure causing road rage in the impatient.

As a result of his driving habits, he’d been rear-ended several times. It had never been his fault, and was never anything more serious than a fender bender.

This was different.

Red’s head was jerked back, and his car swerved onto the shoulder. He hit the brakes, spun, and finally came to a stop facing the wrong side of the street.

When focus returned, he saw what had hit him. It was a pickup truck, full size, the chrome bumper wrinkled like a piece of tin foil.

The driver hopped out of the cab and hurried over to Red, opening his door. Red was grateful for the speedy assistance, until he looked into the driver’s eyes.

“David?”

“Hiya, Doc. Beautiful day for a drive.”

David reached down and unbuckled Red’s seat belt. He firmly tugged the older man out of the vehicle. Red was a solid man, tall enough to have played basketball in high school. But David handled him as easily as if he were a child.

Another car slowed down beside the accident site, the driver sticking his head out the window.

“Are you guys okay?”

“I think so.” David shrugged. “No one’s hurt, but my wife’s gonna have a fit.”

“Do you want me to call the police?”

“Already did. Thanks.”

David waved, and the car sped off.

Red was still stunned, and his neck was beginning to ache, but he wasn’t afraid. David had apparently followed him from DruTech, and he obviously needed to talk.

“You seem sort of edgy, David. Any idea where Manny is?”

“That cry baby? No idea.”

“I have to question your method of approach here. Wouldn’t a phone call have been easier than rear-ending me?”

“Sorry, Doc. You know I’m impulsive sometimes.”

Red nodded, then winced.

“Neck hurt? Let’s go sit down.”

David took Red’s arm, assisting the older man with his footing on the bumpy grass. David led him down the ditch and over to a copse of trees. He leaned the psychiatrist against a massive oak.

“Thank you, David.”

“With the ditch, you can barely see the road over here. It’s like we’re all alone in the woods.”

Red agreed. “Private. It’s nice to get away, sometimes.”

David sat next to the doctor and twirled a brown oak leaf in his fingers. Red waited. Silence was important. It was good to let patients work things out for themselves.

“I was there.”

“Where, David?”

“When Dr. Nikos died.”

Red did his best to hide his alarm.

“I didn’t notice you there.”

“I came later, after the speech. I know Dr. Nikos didn’t want me there. Manny’s the success. I’m the failure.”

“That’s not true…”

“It is true. That’s why I killed him.”

For the first time in his professional career, Dr. Red Fletcher felt a spike of fear. He’d had David pegged as antisocial, prone to fits of temper, but not homicidal.

His diagnosis had been wrong.

It all made sense now. And Red was in serious danger. Stupid, to have let his own ego blind him from the truth.

Red controlled his breathing, trying to treat the conversation like it was just another therapy session.

“You believe Dr. Nikos thought you were a failure.”

“Of course. If anyone knew about me, do you think N-Som would get FDA approval? I know I’m a secret. That new CDER guy, Bill, doesn’t even know about me, does he?”

“No.”

“See? Big embarrassment.”

Red chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to get David riled up. They had a relationship, mentor and student. He could still control where the situation went.

“You’re not an embarrassment, David. You may have some problems…”

“Problems?” David spat. “I sliced Dr. Nikos up like a pizza. And when Manny tried to stop me, I did the same to my own brother. The one person in the whole damn world that I love.”

“You… you need help, David.”

“No shit.”

“But we’ll be able to work it out. It isn’t your fault that Dr. Nikos is dead. We can actually blame the drug. You can get through this, David.”

David crumpled the dry leaf in his hand, the brittle flakes grabbing the air and blowing away.

“Sometimes I think I can. Sometimes I really do.” His mouth formed a lopsided grin. “But it would be a lot easier if I just killed you.”

David took a scalpel out of his back pocket. Red felt the sweat bead up on his forehead. He kept his voice steady.

“That’s not in your best interest, David.”

“You said it yourself. I can blame the drug.”

David moved closer. Red crab walked backwards, keeping his feet between him and the advancing blade.

“I can help you, David. I can help make you well.”

“I appreciate the effort. Really, I do. But between me and you, Doc, I think psychiatry is a big load of horseshit.”

The scalpel flashed. Red tried to defend himself, tried to ward off the unrelenting slice after slice after slice. After a while he gave up and just prayed for it to end quickly.

But it didn’t.

“Now it makes sense.” David laughed, digging in. “Why they call you Red.”

N
athan White liked every aspect of his job except this one.

His mother thought being a courier was the same as being a pizza delivery boy. She couldn’t have been more wrong. They both involved driving, and dropping things off, but the similarity ended there.

Even though he worked for a company, Nathan was technically an independent contractor—his own boss. But more than that, he was actually part of something. Many people, companies, and institutions depended on him.

Fed Ex offered next day service, but in many cases that wasn’t quick enough. Sometimes it had to be the same day, or even within an hour.

Nathan had delivered contracts that saved companies from bankruptcy, organs for emergency transplants, evidence that helped convict murderers, water to disaster victims—things that helped make the world better.

He was paid well, treated with respect, and people were always happy to see him when he arrived just in the nick of time.

Kind of like Superman, Nathan thought. Except Nathan was fat with acne and no super powers.

The job had only one downside; the DruTech run. Or, as he called it, the cadavalivery.

He picked up his two-way radio and spoke to headquarters.

“Dispatch, I’m at the morgue, over.”

“Roger, Nathan. Make it quick—you wouldn’t want the corpsicle to thaw.”

Nathan winced at the joke. He got out of the car and rang the buzzer at the rear entrance. Like always, his mind began to wander while he waited.

Once a week, for almost two years, Nathan had been coming to the morgue to pick up packages. The procedure was always the same. He’d give Sully a sealed envelope, Sully would give him an insulated box.

The boxes varied in size, some small enough to hold shoes, some large enough for a TV. They were always cold to the touch. Sometimes they steamed slightly, and the odor made Nathan gag. A year back, a package had even leaked, and the stain was so rancid Nathan had to cut it out of the upholstery, resulting in a hole in the back seat.

Nathan knew that even the big boxes were too small to hold an entire cadaver, but he had no doubt the boxes had something dead in them. After all, this was a morgue.

So his mind played tricks every time he made the DruTech run. He’d imagine the box was full of illegal third trimester abortions. Or severed limbs, which were going to be cooked and served to a secret club of corporate cannibals. Or that he was picking up different body parts each time, and a mad doctor was building a monster out of them.