The Shepherd (37 page)

The Sheriff raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. “Why Colorado? And how do you know that it wasn’t her house?”

He felt that he was being tested, but that was fine. He’d play along—for now. “I found an envelope on the table that had her name and a Colorado address. I had other things to think about at the time, and I thought that maybe she had two homes or stayed with her kids part of the time. But it fits with the crime scene being staged. Plus, as I sat here, I remembered a vague feeling of familiarity when I first saw Maureen’s house. When I ran my mind through everything that had happened over the past few days, I remembered where I had seen it before. You had an auction flyer on your desk. The picture on the front was the house where Maureen supposedly died. But she didn’t die in that house, which means that Ackerman didn’t kill her in that house. He was staged too. I started wondering why anyone would do something like that…and I still don’t have an answer. So…what the hell is going on here?”

“Do you believe in destiny?”

He thought of Ackerman. “I’m not too sure of anything these days.”

“I’m a firm believer in destiny, and I am certain that you are the man that is meant to be sitting in that chair. You’ve been traveling toward this day since your parents’ murder, and now, you’ve reached the end of that road and the beginning of another. I suppose that I should begin by saying that a lot of things you believe to be true are not so, and I regret that this deception was necessary. First of all, your aunt never owned any ranch. Therefore, she could never will one to you. That was merely your invitation to the party. Second, well… maybe it would be better if I showed you.” The Sheriff stood. “Let’s take a walk.”

Marcus rose from his seat. He felt like he was trapped in a dream.

The Sheriff exited the interrogation room and continued down a long stretch of hallway. He followed. He couldn’t comprehend why the Sheriff would set all this up.

Why bring me to Asherton in the first place?

They passed several open doorways that showed the interiors of offices. Some contained men in suits sitting at desks. The unlikely duo continued down the hall until they reached a closed door marked
Briefing Room
.

The Sheriff stopped in front of the entrance. “You’ll find some answers beyond this door but mainly more questions. When you’re ready…”

Marcus turned the handle and experienced the sensation that he was about to fall down the rabbit hole. He had no idea what to expect on the other side of that door.

Beyond the threshold, Marcus found a room filled with a group of people. Members of the group talked amongst themselves, but it seemed as if they all awaited the arrival of one more party guest. When he entered, they turned toward him and ceased their conversations.

The room spun, and he felt weak in the knees. It seemed as if the world had been turned upside down and inside out. He wondered if he’d lost his mind somewhere along the way.

The world had become a place so alien to him. Everything that he knew to be true now appeared to be false. And everything that he felt was solid and tangible proved to be an illusion.

As he scanned the faces of the individuals gathered in the room, he felt such a wide range of emotions that he found it impossible to pick one and stick with it. He was on the verge of tears and the cusp of laughter, all at the same time.

He recognized some of the Sheriff’s men, but it was no surprise to see them. It did come as a surprise, however, to see Maggie and the spectral figure next to her. Andrew wore a huge grin and held a green can of soda in one hand.

Ghosts are not supposed to smile and drink Mountain Dew.
His breathing verged on hyperventilation.

Andrew’s resurrection wasn’t the only surprise, however. The ghost of an English teacher sitting in one of the briefing room chairs was even more shocking. The man’s wife, Loren—if she was really his wife at all—sat next to him.

Allen Brubaker had apparently not died at the farmhouse that night, and neither had his wife. Their children, Charlie and Amy, weren’t present in the room, but he supposed that their deaths had been falsified as well.

When he first laid eyes upon the group, he felt so overwhelmed with relief and joy that he fought the urge to embrace them all. The feeling of joy soon turned to anger when he thought of the pain and guilt he had felt at having failed them. The truth was that they had been aligned against him from the beginning.

The ghosts of Andrew Garrison and Allen Brubaker stepped forward to greet him. He noticed that Maggie shied back. She looked ashamed.
Good, run with that.

Andrew gave him a wide grin as he approached. “Hey, buddy. Sorry we had to lie to you about all this.”

Allen Brubaker stuck out his hand. With a playful smile, he said, “No hard feelings, right?”

Marcus looked down at the proffered hand with a blank expression. “Of course not.” With a snap of movement, he reached out, grabbed a handful of Andrew’s shirt, and slammed his forehead into the man’s skull.

Andrew fell backward to the floor.

But before Andrew had even hit the ground, he threw a right hook into Allen Brubaker’s jaw. Allen fell back, joining Andrew.

The pair sat on the briefing room floor, expressions of shock on their faces.

The Sheriff chuckled beside him. “At a boy…let it all out.”

He rounded on the Sheriff and landed a fast and vicious punch to the man’s face. The Sheriff also fell to the ground, but he didn’t seem shocked at all. He sat on the tile floor and laughed while he rubbed the side of his head.

Marcus turned back to Allen and Andrew, who had yet to make any attempt to stand. “What is wrong with you people? You think this is some kinda game? You let me think you were dead and made me feel responsible. You’re all nuts. You stay away from me.”

When he raised his eyes from the men on the floor, he saw Maggie. He pointed a finger at her and said, “You’re lucky you’re a woman, or you’d be on the floor with them.”

He stalked past all of them and sat down in one of the briefing room chairs on the far side of the room. After a few moments, the Sheriff walked over and pulled up a chair across from him. “That went better than I expected.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t have a gun.”

“Oh now, you don’t mean that. You don’t even like guns, remember?”

“I’m starting to revise my policies.” His voice trembled. He kept his gaze focused somewhere far away, not wanting to look the Sheriff in the eye. He would have walked out the door if he didn’t want answers—or if he thought they’d allow him to leave that easily.

“As I look back, I’m certain that I made the right choice in bringing you here,” the Sheriff said.

He brought his eyes up to the Sheriff and fixed him with a piercing gaze. “Why did you bring me here, and what exactly is going on? Up until a few minutes ago, I thought that most of the people in this room were dead. I saw them die, but here they are. How?”

“Those are very good questions, kid. The answer regarding the people in this room is simple. It’s amazing what they can do with special effects these days.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Half the time, I was running around with a gun. What if I would have shot you or one of them?”

“We controlled the environment as much as we could and wore protective gear. But to be perfectly honest, Marcus, I knew that you would never intentionally kill anyone unless you had absolutely no other choice. We’ve put together extensive psychiatric profiles on you. Although, the thing with the can of whatever it was that you used as a makeshift grenade at the Brubaker’s house—which was classic, by the way—well, that made me question my assumptions a little, but not much. Besides, everyone here knew the risk. My people are the best, but a lot of planning went into this operation…a lot of work. I even made everyone go through an acting boot camp to make sure that they could be convincing. I did, however, leave some clues for you. I wanted to test your attention to detail. We improvised a lot, but things seemed to work out.”

The Sheriff chuckled. “You really threw us some curves. Like with the Brubakers. The officer that had captured you was supposed to fake car trouble next to the Brubaker’s house. Then, Allen would see something was wrong and rescue you, etcetera etcetera. But you run the car off the road and escape. You were almost where you were supposed to be and injured, so it makes sense that you would approach the house. But it was strange the way that things seemed to come together… definitely destiny at work. Maggie’s another example. She’s one of Allen’s team and not my daughter, by the way. Her job was merely to observe you in the bar and then play a small role later on with you and Andrew. Fate had other plans. Regardless, after you took interest in her, she had to play things out.”

The Sheriff looked over at Maggie and leaned in close. “Go easy on her, by the way. Some of the things she told you were lies, but I don’t think that her feelings toward you are. Just keep that in mind. She—”

“I don’t even know who she is.”

“Now you can take the time for that, but it’s really none of my business.”

The Sheriff sat back and drew in a deep breath. “In regards to your other question of why you’re here…that’s a little more complicated. It all began with a list. This list contained the names of thousands of prospective candidates, people who for one reason or another had been flagged as having the right potential. You were one of the names on that list. Initially because of what happened to your parents, and later for the potential abilities that you possessed. As time progressed, we crossed off many of the names on that list for one reason or another, until only a select few remained.”

The Sheriff paused as if choosing his next words with care. “After what happened with Senator Mavros, I knew that you were the one.”

“Because you’re looking to recruit a killer?”

The Sheriff sat up straighter. “Absolutely not. It’s because I was searching for someone who would do what they knew was right—regardless of whether or not it was popular. Some people have unexplainable gifts. They are skilled in mathematics, or musical theory, or possess natural athletic abilities. Some people have…other gifts. Science cannot adequately explain it. I’m not sure whether heroes are born or made. I don’t know if the special gifts that they possess are elements engrained into the person’s genetic structure, part of the soul, or whether the events of their lives shape them into extraordinary individuals with the power to do great things. What I do know is that you are one of those people. And that is who I’ve been searching for. I’ve been looking for a hero.”

A moment of silence passed. “You got the wrong guy. I’m no hero.”

“Which is exactly what a hero would say.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. What do you want from me? Why bring me here?”

The Sheriff scratched at his goatee and leaned closer. “I’m the head of a group within our government known as the
Shepherd Organization
. We are charged with doing whatever is necessary to protect the citizens of this country.”

“Whatever is necessary? So you’re above the law?”

“The short answer is yes. We’re the good guys that do the necessary evil. I’ve brought you here because you possess abilities specifically suited to hunt down and eliminate serial killers.”

“And by eliminate, you mean murder. Don’t the cops and the FBI do a pretty good job of catching killers?”

“The groups you mentioned stop criminals. The majority of the people we hunt are not mere criminals. We don’t often deal with people who kill for money, love, revenge, or any other rational motive. The individuals we hunt are monsters. They slaughter innocent people for no reason and feel no remorse. The FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit released a study a while back that estimated there are twenty to fifty unidentified active serial killers in the United States. In my experience, that number is highly optimistic. Someone has to do whatever is necessary to protect the citizens of this country from these monsters. We’re called the Shepherd Organization because we’re charged with keeping the wolves away.”

Marcus shook his head in contempt. “You bypass the justice system. You act as judge, jury, and executioner.”

“We do what needs to be done. Some of our actions might bypass the justice system, but we don’t bypass justice. We enforce justice, and all of our activities are sanctioned by the United States government and the President himself.”

Marcus laughed. “Right. The President himself. For all I know, you’re the Unabomber, and this is all just part of your manifesto.”

“Sure, ‘cause a man like the Unabomber wouldn’t have any problems acquiring a Briefing Room at an FBI field office. Take a look over there at that man talking with Allen. I asked him to hang back when you came in, but he’s very excited to meet you.”

He swiveled around and saw a man that he definitely recognized. “That’s…umm…”

“Thomas Caldwell, Attorney General of the United States of America.”

The Attorney General noticed their attention and gave a two-fingered salute.

His throat went dry. He swallowed hard and said, “That’s an impersonator. You set that up to trick me.”

The Sheriff laughed. “You’re getting paranoid, but after the week you’ve had, I don’t blame you. I’ll introduce you to him later. You can decide his authenticity for yourself. If you’re not convinced at that point, then we’ll set you up for a personal tour of the White House.”

He opened his mouth to issue a smartass comment, but the words stuck in his throat. Being a smartass was his defense mechanism. He was beginning to understand that. It was just one of the walls he had erected to ensure many good acquaintances, but no close friends.

The Sheriff continued. “One of our former presidents issued an executive order that founded the Shepherd Organization. He felt that extreme circumstances sometimes presented themselves where the law failed, and in the end, some laws that were meant to protect allowed evil men to go unpunished. He envisioned a group that could cut through the red tape and bureaucracy and get the job done. Our founders designed the Shepherd Organization to operate under the direction of the President, Vice President, and the Attorney General. They also designed the group to be disbanded at any time if the current president felt that the organization was no longer necessary or had lost sight of its purpose. Despite that fact, the organization has never failed to have the complete and unwavering support of our commander in chief. We’re a very small, elite group. No big, bloated budget like Homeland or the FBI. We take our recruitment and selection process very seriously. There aren’t many Shepherds. That’s why the Attorney General wanted to meet you. You see, we operate in cell groups—”