Shadows in the Light: Oscars Story – Chapter Three

Knight’s information said that Maximillian would be at his family’s River Hills home between seven and eight in the evening. A niggle in the back of my brain made me wonder where he got such specific information, but I pushed it aside. Knight was in charge for a reason, and I trusted him with my life. And had many times.

My plan was simple. Kill Maximillian before he could do his family harm, call Knight to dispose of the body, then head off to meet Gina for beer and a pie. I hoped to hell she didn’t like anchovies on her pizza, because that could be a deal breaker.

When the cab dropped me off a little after four, I gaped. This place wasn’t a house, it was a fucking mansion. Three stories of masonry, glass, and steel, and what appeared to be a dormer at the top. The property covered about an acre and a half with a meticulously sculpted lawn, coupled with the prancing pony topiary, the front of the place screamed ostentation and power. I didn’t know the people, but I already wasn’t a fan. As I reconnoitered the place, nothing I saw changed my opinion. Everywhere I looked, there were disgusting displays of wealth. A pool wasn’t good enough for the Kearny’s. No, they needed a fucking waterpark. Slides that were taller than the house opened up into a pool that was just a bit smaller than some lakes, there were fountains that burst jets of water into the air, where they caught the last rays of the sun, turning into a misty rainbow, a gazebo that appeared as though it could seat thirty or more people, with a huge grill tucked away to one side. They even had a goddamned putting green. They were all things that screamed, ‘look at me, see how rich I am?’ It made me wonder if Maximillian had a reason for wanting them dead. Without stepping foot inside, it wasn’t difficult to tell that there was a lot of money riding on the outcome.

I shook my head and went back to assessing the property. My job wasn’t to critique, it was to eliminate a threat. I had to keep that in mind. No matter how gaudy I thought the whole place looked, no one deserved to die, especially over something as stupid as money.

Seven came and went with no sign of anyone approaching the house. By eight, I began to think maybe Knight had it wrong. There were lights on in the place, but no movement. That niggle returned. Something wasn’t right. When I tried to text Knight, I got no reply, which left the ball firmly in my court.

As I approached the house, another light went on at the top. I saw a silhouette sway, then drop to the ground. Every instinct I’d developed told me this wasn’t right. I rushed to the door, surprised to find it opened. I went inside, straining to hear any sound at all. Nothing reached my ears, but then again, with a house this size, there were so many places people could be. I decided to go to the dormer. I knew I’d seen something up there, so it seemed like a logical choice. I checked my phone again. Still nothing from Knight. This was unlike him.

I found a spiral staircase that led to the upper floors. I bet if I had time, I would probably have found an elevator. As I went up, I still heard nothing. It was surreal, because the family was supposed to be here. Yet there wasn’t so much as a peep.

As I got to the third floor, I found another set of stairs leading to the dormer. Gun in hand, I crept up the stairs. Now I heard it. Faint sounds, like moaning. No matter what my plan had been initially, now everything changed. I tried the knob, but it was locked. Shooting the lock really only worked in television, so that was out. I threw myself against the door, knowing I’d pay for it later. When it burst open, I was stunned at what I saw.

Blood spattered the walls and floor. So much spilled out of the corpses that were spread around the room that the royal blue carpeting had taken on a purplish hue. I took in the scene in a matter of seconds. An older man and woman lay on the floor, theirs mouths open, and their eyes glassy. In the corner the bodies of a young boy and girl. Their bodies were covered by that of a woman, and a man lay atop them. It took me a moment to notice the baby curled in the woman’s arms. All of them were dead from multiple stab wounds. My blood boiled. When I heard the moan again, I scoured the room. Behind a sofa, I found my target. Maximillian Kearney lay hidden, his clothes covered by patches of blood. In his hand was a butcher knife, the blade snapped off somewhere, probably in one of the bodies, but the six inches that remained were caked with viscous red liquid.

I grabbed him by the hair and dragged him to the middle of the room where I threw him to the floor.

“What the fuck did you do?”

His eyes kept rolling back into his head. He couldn’t fix his gaze on me. I could tell he tried, but his head lolled back, his mouth open wide, his breaths coming in short pants. White hot anger coursed through me. I wanted to beat this bastard until my hands were numb. It wouldn’t bring back his family, but it would give me an outlet for—

No. This was my failure. I’d missed it. No idea how, but he’d gotten in and killed these people. Those fucking babies, who could never have done him harm, were dead now because this fucker wanted money. I dropped next to him and shoved my gun under his chin.

“All this because you wanted cash? What kind of sick fuck are you?”

“Nooooooo…” He tried to lift his head, but it kept drooping back. Whatever the fuck he took must have been pretty potent. “Noooo….”

Max struggled to sit up, but I pushed him back down.

“You know, my friend Haven has this thing where he likes to tell bastards like you why they’re about to die. Looking around this room, I’ve got no doubt whatsoever you already know.”

I shoved the gun into his mouth, the barrel clacking against his teeth. His eyes were wide and red, the pupils blown so much, it practically drowned the… Holy shit, this kid had one brown and one blue iris. Freaky fucker.

I began to squeeze then trigger when I saw the tears. I hesitated. I never hesitated. But that niggle in the back of my mind kicked up to high. I’d never gotten a message back from Knight. If Max had come in here with the intent of killing his family, how could he have done it? He couldn’t even stand. I doubted they stood there and let him stab them to death. Things weren’t adding up. I drew my gun back and holstered it. I needed to figure this out before I killed anyone.

I stood up and went over to the older couple. I reached out and touched one of the wounds on her body. The blood was cold and sticky, so it wasn’t fresh. Rigidity on the eyelids, neck, and jaw also added to the puzzle. It took between two and fours after death before that set in. These people had been killed hours ago. Had Max gotten stoned after he killed them? It was possible.

I went through the room, looking for proof one way or another. I’d never killed an innocent person intentionally, and I wouldn’t do it now when there were so many questions unanswered. After fifteen minutes, I’d given up. Max had nothing on him, but I found fresh track marks in the crook of his elbow. The thing of it was, there were no needles, no scars from other injections, and it all made me more and more certain.

Something stunk.

 

 

The text from Knight came three hours later.

Mission not complete?

I stared at the screen. Nothing about my previous texts, just him wanting to know if Max was dead. I glanced over to the bed where he lay, sweating profusely. He’d barely stirred and did a lot of moaning since I’d lugged him into the motel room. Whatever he was on, it was fucking him up. I’d stripped off the bloody clothes, washed him down as best I could, then wrapped him in what the motel laughably referred to as a bathrobe.

Mission complete. After not hearing from you, I had to make judgment calls.

There were no messages for several minutes, then my phone pinged. Was tied up with another agent. Any problems?

Time and again, Knight had gone to the wall for me. He pulled me in after my platoon had been ambushed and killed. He’d given me a home in the organization. Now I was betraying his confidence by not telling him things had gone south.

No problems. Have flight out tomorrow. Will be back home soon.

Great. Will have cleanup crew go take care of the place.

Which effectively meant that all evidence of my involvement would be erased. Of course, they wouldn’t find Max’s body, and that presented a new problem. I’d deal with that as it came up, though.

Understood.

I thumbed through my contacts until I found the one I was looking for. My finger hovered over it briefly, then I pushed it.

“This is Lilah.”

Her tone was clipped and as efficient as always. I was about to put an inordinate amount of trust in her.

“Hey, Lilah. This is Citadel.” I cringed. I hated codenames. “Need to know something here. Anything I say to you now is covered by doctor patient confidentiality, right?”

She sighed. “Who did you kill this time?”

Lilah was good people. Normally I would have played with her for a while. This was not that time.

I growled. “Is this confidential?”

She grumbled something, but I chose to ignore it. “Yes. No one will know what we talked about. What’s going on?”

“I’ve got this kid here, his eyes are glassy, his speech is slurred, and he can barely walk. He’s got what appears to be a single needle mark on his arm. He’s been sweating like a pig, and moaning like he’s in pain. What do you think he might be on?”

She expelled a sharp breath. “I can’t diagnose something without seeing it firsthand. If I had to make an educated guess, I would say maybe ketamine or Methoxetamine. How long has he been this way?”

“I wish I knew. I was on a mission and he was in the house. It could have been hours before I left, but it’s definitely been at least two since I brought him back.”

She hummed. “It can’t be either one of those, then. They’ve got a short half-life. Off the top of my head, I’m going to say maybe Ativan. There could be other drugs mixed with it, but without doing blood tests I can’t say for sure.”

“So how do I bring him out of it?” Then I could determine whether or not to kill him.

“Without knowing what happened, I can only say time. If he doesn’t have track marks, then it’s likely he hasn’t been doing this for long, so it’s going to hit him harder than if he were taking it constantly and built up an immunity to it.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“Oscar? Was he your target?”

A million things bounced around that I could say, but Lilah wasn’t a resource I could afford to lose. “Let’s just say it’s better off if you don’t know.”

“Oh, Oscar.” Her tone dripped with pity. If there was one thing I hated, it was having someone look at me with the expression I imagined her having.

“Do you want me to come to you? I can check him out.”

“No, but thank you for offering. Wisconsin is a pretty far distance to travel from Arizona. Plus, I can’t take the risk they’ll track you. I was serious when I said it was better that you not know.”

Max moaned again and he ran a hand over his stomach. When he sat up, his freaky eyes wide, and he projectile vomited, I nearly lost my shit. Blood? Yeah, I can deal with that. Stabbing someone through the eye? No problem. Puke? Fuck, that’s disgusting.

“What’s going on?”

I’d almost forgotten Lilah was on the phone as I make sure Max didn’t collapse back and choke to death. “He’s puking. And that shit’s getting everywhere.”

“You need to watch him closely. If he passes out and throws up, he could aspirate. Don’t leave him alone.”

“Thanks, but I hadn’t intended to.” Max heaved again. “Need to get him cleaned up.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go. And, Oscar? Be careful.”

She hung up and I put the phone back in my pocket. She’d said be careful, but I’m pretty sure that ship had already sailed. When Max had expelled everything it seemed he was going to, I lay him back down and he closed his eyes. I went into the bathroom and came back with several bath towels, which I proceeded to use to clean Max and the bed up. Looked like I’d be sleeping on the floor.

As I mopped around the smelly mess, I peered down at him. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he trembled. I’d seen pictures of him, and clicking through them in my memory, I pulled up details. His face had never been this pale in any of them. I reached out and brushed his chestnut hair away from his brow, then swept across it with a washcloth. In my mind, the questions kept coming rapid-fire. If Max hadn’t done the murders, who had? Why did I suspect that Rook knew more than he was letting on? And what the hell was I going to do with Max if he was innocent?

Everything in me said to off him and get the hell out, but if he was innocent, it would piss me off.

 

 

 

I didn’t end up sleeping that night. I sat in the armchair, waiting to see if Max would wake up. The more I thought about it, the more I doubted he had killed anyone. This, of course, sent me off on new tangents, trying to connect the dots to form a picture that right now, I just couldn’t see.

At about one-thirty, Max opened his eyes again. He levered himself off the bed, and when he found me sitting in the chair, he let out a sharp cry, tumbled over the edge, and scrambled back as far as he could.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” At least not yet. “What’s your name?”

He continued shouting, and I sure as hell couldn’t have someone calling the cops. I stalked toward him and knelt down. He whimpered and drew into the corner, his arms wrapped around himself. There was no way this kid was a cold blooded killer. In the heat of the moment, anyone was capable of murder, but this act had been too brutal. Thinking back on the scene, it almost seemed to me that it had been setup to appear as though Max had done it in a drug induced frenzy.

“Look, your name is Maximillian, right?”

His eyes watered and his lips wobbled as he dipped his chin once. “I hate that name. Can you just call me Max?”

I gave him a smile. “Yeah, I can do that. You can call me…” Aw, fuck. “You can call me Citadel.” I understood what Max meant, because I really hated codenames.

“What are you going to do to me?” His voice, barely a whisper, was filled with fear. And it was a good question, but one I didn’t have an answer to. I chose to ignore it for the moment.

“What can you tell me about tonight?”

He cocked his head slightly to the right. His eyes were somewhat more focused, but his pupils were still huge. “What?”

“Where were you tonight?

His eyes drifted shut as he dropped his head against the wall. “My parents called and said… They told me…” He opened and eyes and huffed. “I can’t remember.”

I didn’t want him to be afraid of me, but he had information I needed.  There wasn’t an urge to growl at him, demand that he tell me the truth, but . . Funny thing was, I knew he had been. Against my better judgment, I whipped out my phone and called Lilah again. “He says he doesn’t remember.”

“It’s possible. Ativan, and the class of drugs like it, can really mess you up. It’s why it’s so strictly controlled.”

This job was going right down the shitter. “So now what?”

She sighed. I noticed she seemed to do that a lot when we talked. “He’s just coming out from under the influence.” She paused for a breath. “It’s very possible he may never remember what happened. Some of these drugs cause memory loss. It’s short term, but while under the influence, he likely won’t recall anything that happened. You’ve got to be patient. I know it’s nearly impossible for you, but you need to dial it back and let him get back up to speed.”

Lilah wasn’t wrong. I took a deep breath. I needed answers, but badgering Max wasn’t going to get them for me. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Again, if you need me to come out and see him, I will. It doesn’t have to be anywhere in particular.”

My gaze darted back to Max. He had his arms wrapped around his knees, and sat rocking gently. There was a twinge in my stomach I couldn’t identify, but I pushed away the thoughts it brought up.

“I’ll let you know.” I hung up before she responded. My choices were limited now. I could kill Max, thus completing my contract. It seemed like that should be my only option. I had a signed kill order, and this was what I do. But…

And the but was the problem. This whole mess had me screwed up in the head. My instincts told me Max wasn’t responsible, but Knight had shown me the files.

Until I figured it out, Max was going to stay alive and I was going to protect him.