Night Kill (Private Investigator Andrew Knight Mystery Series) (14 page)

“Who are you?” Roxanne called out. No reply.

“What are you doing here?” Roxanne demanded. The hooded figure made no sound.

Roxanne was about to step forward, when the hooded figure started towards her instead. She immediately bolted up the stairs and back down the hallway to warn the others.

Chloe had witnessed Roxanne go into her trance. She was in awe of such a gift. Feeling that it was perfectly safe, she decided to explore the dorm room a bit more. It was too bad that the candles had all burnt out, because they would’ve been a welcome addition to her flashlight. Chloe searched the dorm room floor with her flashlight. She walked about looking for some clues that would help find the missing teenagers. As Chloe approached the closet she noticed a few drops of dried blood. Chloe grasped hold of the sliding door handle with one hand and opened it, readying herself for anything that might’ve popped out! Unfortunately there was only the Ouji board on the floor of the closet. She bent down and picked it up. Chloe closed the closet door and walked back over to Roxanne. Roxanne was still in her trance, so Chloe sat down outside the circle of candles and opened the game. When she laid out the game board, a blood stained piece of material fell out. Now Chloe knew the source of the blood on the floor by the closet. She didn’t have an evidence bag, so Chloe carefully placed the piece of cloth in her pocket. Why hadn’t the authorities or her dad confiscated the game to begin with, Chloe wondered? Chloe considered that perhaps they were too concerned with searching for the missing teenagers, or had they just blown it off as them just running away from home or something like that. Either way, Chloe had her first real clue. She glanced back over at Roxanne. Chloe was starting to get worried about the length of time that Roxanne had been in her trance. She was equally afraid to just wake her from it too.

Roxanne was on her way, when the rest of the teenagers were rushing towards her! She instinctively jumped out of the way. Roxanne watched them bound down the stairs towards the hooded figure. She went after them and when she came to the top of the stairs, Roxanne saw the hooded figure being chased by them. Roxanne decided to follow and practically ran down the stairs to do so. As she got to the bottom of the stairs, Roxanne heard what sounded like a heavy wooden door slam shut. She bolted down the long hallway and soon came to a wooden door. Roxanne opened the door and stepped through. She appeared to be in a church. Roxanne looked around and saw teenagers had the hooded figure surrounded. She immediately headed in their direction, but came to a sudden stop when a second person, wearing all black, stepped forward from the shadows. The person’s identity was hidden by a hooded mask. The teenagers were startled by the appearance of the masked person. Before they could recover, the person in black attacked in a martial arts fury. The boys tried to defend themselves and the girls, but it was in vain. Within minutes all of the teenagers were on the floor, unconscious.

Roxanne had to go back to the dorm room where she and Chloe had been to when they arrived. She had to wake from her trance and tell Chloe what she had seen.

Chloe rose to her feet when she heard moaning sounds coming from beyond the door to the dorm room. She withdrew her gun and stepped up to the door. Chloe grasped hold of the knob, gave it a twist, and quickly opened the door. She entered the hallway with her gun in the ready position. Chloe saw nothing, but the moaning continued. She went back and retrieved her flashlight. When Chloe exited the room, she closed the door and walked in the direction of the stairs. The moaning sound was getting louder as Chloe neared the stairway. She slowed her pace and readied both flashlight and gun for when the time came to look down the stairs. Chloe’s heart was beating fast, and her breathing was labored. She took a minute to calm down and stepped forward.

Roxanne finally woke from her trance. She looked around the dorm room. Chloe was gone! Roxanne rose a bit unsteadily to her feet. It felt like a thousand needles were pricking her flesh. Roxanne fought off the feeling, grabbed her flashlight, and went to look for Chloe. She exited the dorm room and headed towards the stairs. So far there was no sign of Chloe. Where could she be?

Roxanne walked down the stairs and as soon as she reached the first floor, she heard moaning sounds. She turned and flashed her light down the hallway leading to the church. Roxanne saw nothing.

“Chloe!” Roxanne cried out. There was no reply.

Roxanne continued down the hallway and upon reaching the door to the church, she stumbled from something on the floor. She shone her light down to see what it was. Roxanne gasped and was taken aback. It was a gun and flashlight.

“Chloe!” Roxanne shouted after she opened the door to the church. The sound of her voice echoed across the vast, empty sanctuary. Roxanne knew what to do. She had to get help. Roxanne closed the door and was about to turn around. She felt a blow to the head and was immediately rendered unconscious.

Chapter 7

Even before he opened his eyes, the light from the morning sun already lit them up. He rolled over on his side and put the pillow over his head. It was too late. No matter how hard he tried, the blasted light had woken him up. He finally opened his eyes to see the sun just coming over the lake. He put the pillow back and pushed the button to raise the bed. After playing with it a few minutes, he finally found the right position. There was a knock at the door. He replied to come in.

“Good morning,” a red haired nurse smiled. She walked in carrying his breakfast tray.

“Good morning,” he hesitated, “Veronica, right?”

“Well at least your short-term memory is still working,” Veronica smiled, her green eyes scrunched up at the corners. She walked over and put the tray on his lap.

“Thanks,” he replied. He removed the cover to reveal a hearty breakfast of pancakes and sausages. His stomach was growling, so loud in fact that Veronica heard it. She smiled.

“You’re scheduled for a session with Doctor Straussman this morning at eleven,” Veronica announced, as she looked at the screen of her palm pilot. She glanced in his direction just in time to see him take the last bite of his food. “My, you really were hungry,” Veronica laughed. He unexpectedly burped. They both laughed. “Hey,” she suggested. “Since we have time I want to take you somewhere.”

“Where is that?” he inquired.

“Get in,” Veronica announced as she grabbed the wheel chair and moved it to the side of the bed.

The Sunroom was very warm, sunny, accentuated with palms and wicker furniture, and not one single modern electronic device. There were board games, magazines, and books waiting to be read scattered on the tables in the middle of the room. A little alcove on the north side offered sanctuary from the world.

That’s where he wanted to be today; secluded from the world. At the request of Doctor Straussman, he was staying at the hospital a few more days for observation. Apparently he was her test subject since he was her only patient with trauma induced amnesia. The woman he knew as Megan Knight had protested the decision at first, but then conceded that it may help. Either way, eventually he would have to leave and face an unrecognizeable world. It frightened him. Last night he dreamt about this Andrew Knight, the man they claim to be him, but there was no face to recognize. It was blank. So the sunroom was the perfect place to be right now.

Veronica wheeled him over to the alcove. There was someone else already there. He thanked Veronica and she left.

He got up out of the wheel chair and walked over to one of the empty cushioned wicker chairs. He grabbed a magazine and began to page through; not really reading anything of real importance. He looked her over. She was a young girl with the same colored hair as his. She was staring out of the windows and down on the city. She looked very sad. Shadowy circles camouflaged her eyes. It was like someone had stolen the light not only from her eyes, but from her soul.

Her silence befuddled him. He wasn’t really sure why, or how come. Why would, how she looked or the apparent misery she felt, concern him? He tried to go back to reading, but couldn’t. Something unsettling about her was calling him ask her why. Where did this querying feeling come from?

He slid the magazine back on the table, rose and walked over by her. He asked if he could sit down. No reply. He asked again. She gave a slow nod. He presumed that meant it was okay and immediately sat beside her. For the first few minutes they gazed out the large window at the soundless sights in streets below. Pretty soon his thoughts began to drift back to why she could be so miserable. What happened to her? Was it some incurable illness the doctor told she had? Did it have to do with family? What was it? There were so many questions twirling around in his mind; each jockeying for position. Finally, he just sort of blurted out, “My name is, um, um, its.” He hastily stopped. Damn it, he swore in his head. All he had to do was just say the damn name, but he couldn’t. For some reason it didn’t seem to fit. How weird was that he thought. Is it your name that defines who you are, or is it your actions, thoughts, and feelings? You can write your name down on paper, wear it on a name badge, or have some one call it out in the middle of the night. That’s what bothered him the most; your name does define who you are to others. Without it you’re just a vessel with emotions, witnessed by those around you, but no identity to go with it. So what is in a name; everything! He tried again, “My name is Andrew,” he benignly said. “Andrew Knight.”

“Storm,” her voice finally came out of the shadows. “My name is Storm Higgins.”

“I like your name,” He said, observing her closely. It felt weird. Why would he do something like that? Why would he even care? And yet it seemed as if from his observation he could tell a lot about her. For example, when she talked, he noticed her teeth were well cared for, so it meant that her parents had good insurance. Yet her eye teeth were longer; looking more like fangs. Why would she do that? He quickly shook off the feeling and recovered, and smiled. “How did your parents come up with it?”

“My mom…” Storm sniffed back her tears. Her shoulders sunk and she became withdrawn, not so much as before. “My mom gave birth to me during a really bad snow storm. They couldn’t get to the hospital, so I was born at home.”

He saw that talking about her mom was very upsetting. Something terrible must have happened recently. What could it be? Was her mom in the hospital or something worse?

“Are you okay?” He picked up on Storm’s reluctance when she talked about her mom. He pressed further, “Did something happen to your mom. I mean, well, you can tell me only if you want to.”

“My parents,” Storm paused and exhaled deeply. “My parents and brother were killed recently. I was the only one to live.”

“Was it a car accident?”

“No, they were murdered.” Storm bust out in tears. She covered her face with her hands. He didn’t know what to do. Should he comfort her? Call a nurse?

“Dear Lord,” was all he could say. He simply sat there listening to her cry. He closed his eyes, and a single tear streamed down his cheek. For some weird reason, her pain had now become his pain. Who would murder a mother, father and brother? What kind of person could do that? Was it for money, or revenge, or something else? Why were all of these damn questions flooding his mind? His eyes flashed open; the room seemed to be getting smaller. He couldn’t breathe; it was like there was no air in the room. He suddenly felt very ill and had to get away.

He bolted from the sofa and ran out of the room. He had to find a way to shut up the deafening, swirling noise in his head. But where could he go? That’s when he saw the door marked ‘Roof Observation Room’. He gave the door a shove to open and bolted up the stairs. Once he reached the top of the stairwell, he saw a glass enclosed observation room. It was empty. He closed the door. He grabbed a hold of his head with both hands and roared at the top of his lungs. His screaming ricocheted off the glass and engulfed him like waves crashing on the beach. “Make the questions stop!” He fell to his knees. “Make them stop! What is happening to me?” Images of people he did not know, places he couldn’t recognize and feelings that couldn’t be explained, joined in the menagerie leading to a torturous crescendo. The battle inside of him was too much to bear; it felt like the thunder of a thousand cannons. All of the suppressed memories and feelings that his mind had built up walls to hold back came flooding out. His head was spinning. He felt sick to his stomach. He tried to get up on his feet, but he couldn’t move. He tried to resist with his entire mind and might but he no longer could prevent it. He grabbed a trash can and vomited until his body finally succumbed and he just lay down. The battle was over, but who was the victor?

Only an hour had passed by; just a small click to the hands of the clock in his life. He opened his eyes. The world was different now. Where was he? He glanced around the glass room. Where was he, oh that’s right, the observation room on the roof. He rose to his feet a bit unsteady yet. He walked over to one of the windows. He moved close enough to see his face reflected in the glass. He moved his head from side to side, each time gazing out of the corner of his eye. He was in need of a shave. He bent even closer to the glass. His eyes were still green, although they looked a bit tired. He made his face contort into an overdone grin. He laughed and his face relaxed again. Staring at the face in the glass, he asked, “Who are you?” With his eyes, he met the eyes of the person reflected in the glass. There was no hesitation. No longer did the specter of doubt rear its ugly head. Unlike the dream he had had a night ago, his face was not blank. His lips parted with a slight grin. “I am Andrew Knight.”