The Killing Vision

SATURDAY, JULY 14

7:47 AM

Joel came awake slowly as the early morning sunlight peeked in through the crack in the blinds. He rolled over and looked at the clock, then started to reach for the cigarettes. He stopped himself and lay back down but continued to stare at the pack. He hadn’t given in even after he got home last night, even though he had been dying for a smoke. But something about being with Dana had made his willpower stronger. He wondered if it was love.

Dinner had been great. They talked over their meal as if they had known each other all their lives. Dana told him all about growing up with her gift, how many of her schoolmates had avoided her out of fear or mistrust, how she had felt like a freak most of her life, how she hadn’t really begun to find herself until after graduation when she entered college. “That’s when I found the group,” she said, “I knew I wasn’t alone. It was the best feeling in the world.”

“But what about your parents?” Joel said. “They had the same gift as you.”

Dana shook her head. “You don’t understand. I wanted friends. People my own age to run around with. I didn’t want to go stale sitting at home every night with my parents.”

“That makes sense.”

“Getting involved with the group gave me the self-confidence to try new things and meet new people. I was able to stop focusing on my abilities and actually live for a change.”

Joel looked at her across the table and thought she was the most remarkable human being he had ever met. He found himself suddenly wanting to lean across and kiss her, to feel her moist lips press against his, to explore her mouth with the tip of his tongue. It was a feeling that lasted all through the meal and continued to course through him as they sat in the darkened theater watching an Andy Samberg comedy. Listening to her laugh was like hearing a jazz combo playing a light, lilting tune you knew you would never get out of your head. Again, he wondered what he would see if he reached over and took her hand, but she caught him staring at her and gave him a quick smile before turning back to the screen. And later, as he dropped her back home and she thanked him for the evening, she brushed her lips against his cheek—just softly and quickly enough that all he read off of her was that she was happy. And that was enough.

And now he lay in the bed wondering what would have happened if he had just wrapped his arms around her and kissed her like he wanted. Would he have fallen into pure ecstasy at the touch of her lips? Or would the sensation have been too much? Just like—

Did you know there were canals on Mars?

Just like that night long ago.

Hey, Roberts!

And before he could stop himself, he was back there on that crisp October evening a decade ago. Friday night after the football game. Cruising around with Mike Bennett and Scott Harris in Mike’s T-Bird. Drinking Bud Light and blasting Nelly. All stoked up because they had won their game and now they were going to celebrate and have some fun and maybe tear some shit up. And Joel didn’t care because at least he would be out of the house and not having to take a bunch of grief from Clifton. And maybe he could forget about these weird sensations he was having every time he made contact with someone on the football field, as if he was seeing inside them, feeling inside them. How brushing against someone was like hearing fifty radios blasting at him all at once.

And when they caught up to Candy Johnson walking along Eighth Street, he was more than happy to scoot over and share the backseat with her, to pull a bottle from the second six-pack of the night and hand it to her. And how he had watched—fascinated—as she turned up the bottle and drank it down in four gulps and asked for another.

And soon he and Candy were talking about school and Mr. Peterson’s astronomy class and he said, “Did you know there were canals on Mars?”

“Really?” she asked and took a sip of beer.

He wasn’t sure if she was actually interested or she was just zoning out from the beer, but he said, “Yeah. A long time ago they thought that meant there was water there. And life.”

“Real Martians?”

“Yeah.”

A little while later they were parked at a clearing out by the railroad tracks, and Joel and Scott sat draining the last of the beer while Mike and Candy were getting busy in the back seat. And it wasn’t long before Mike crawled out, zipping up his jeans, and said, “Hey, Roberts! She wants you now,” and Scott clapped Joel on the back and shoved him toward the car.

And suddenly Joel was standing at the open door of the T-Bird, staring in at the darkness where he could just see Candy lying in the backseat illuminated by the lights from the dashboard. Usher was pounding in the speakers, and Joel could feel the throb of the bass course through his chest, down through his belly to his cock, which strained against the fly of his jeans. And all he could think, even through the fog of the beer buzz, was that it all seemed wrong somehow, that a few minutes ago they were discussing Mars and now she was f*cking them all and it was dirty and wrong but he still wanted to do it because this would be the first time he had ever had sex with anyone besides his own hand. And immediately he ripped open his jeans and knelt between her legs and plunged into the slickness and felt her arch up to meet him.

And that was when all the sensations hit him. A roar of sounds and a dizzying array of visions pierced through him. He saw Candy with a dozen other guys. Felt the emptiness that was her soul. Saw her whole filthy, stinking squalid existence in a matter of seconds. He managed to pull away from her and stumble back out of the car, his erection wilted and his pants still wrapped around his knees. His body was coated with sweat, and he realized tears were streaming down his face.

“That was quick,” Mike said, laughing.

Scott moved toward the car and threw his empty beer bottle into the woods. “My turn,” he said.

Joel hadn’t been with anyone since. The thought of being pummeled by that cacophony of energy and emotion again was more than he could bear. He had quit football not long after that, and when he understood the weight of his ability he began to shut himself off from other people. Sex had not been something he had wanted to repeat.

But now he found himself thinking of Dana and how much he enjoyed being with her, and he wondered if she felt the same. And would she still want him if she knew they could never be together physically?

His phone buzzed on the table beside him, startling him out of his thoughts. He grabbed it and looked at the number, hoping it would be Dana. But it was a number he didn’t recognize. Against his better judgment, he accepted the call. “Hello?”

“Is this Joel?” said a male voice.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“This is Barry. From the group.”

Joel remembered him. The creepy red-haired guy. “Hi, Barry.”

“Listen, I’m really sorry to bother you, and I hope you don’t mind me calling you, but I need to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“I think you’re in danger.”

Joel sat up in the bed. “What?”

“I think something may happen to you. Something bad.”

A cold sweat had broken out on Joel’s forehead. “Like what?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t want to alarm you, I. . . just think you should be careful.”

Joel stared straight ahead at the blinds over the window. His skin prickled and he realized he had goosebumps down his arms.

“Joel, you there?”

“I’m here.”

“Tackle him. Even if you think it’s too dangerous. Do it anyway. You’ll know when.” He disconnected and Joel sat with the dead phone against his ear, listening to the silence.

* * *

10:35 AM

Wade watched Derek work the lug nuts on the wheel of the Mustang. Today he was going to replace the brakes and hopefully take the car out for a spin when he was done. It was already sweltering in the barn, even though he had propped the doors and windows open and a breeze was flowing through like a hot river. He wiped the sweat off his face with the tail of his t-shirt and leaned back against the workbench.

“Think you’ll be done by the time I get home from work?” Derek said.

“Should be.”

“I’d like to take Chad for a ride. I’ve been telling him about it and he really wants to see it.”

“As long as you don’t do any drinking.”

Derek blew out a breath. “We won’t.”

“I don’t want to have to bail you outa jail.”

Derek shook his head. “Why are you always saying that?”

Wade grunted. “Hey, I was sixteen once.”

“Was alcohol even invented yet when you were sixteen?”

Wade picked up a rusty washer and chucked it at the kid’s ear. “Watch it.”

Derek stood up and stretched, then looked at his watch. “Crap, I gotta get to work.” He tossed the lug wrench to Wade. “If I’m late again, I’ll get an ass-chewing.” He cracked his neck and headed out into the yard. “See ya.”

“Have a great day at the office,” Wade called.

“Yeah.”

Wade watched him make his way up the back steps into the house, and a couple of minutes later heard the Escort fire up and pull out onto the highway with a squeal of tires. When he was sure he was alone and that Marla wasn’t going to make an appearance, he pulled the cigar box from the notch in the wall and rolled up a joint. He fired it up and sat down in the old chair, watching the leaves rustle in the trees outside.

Last night had been a strange one. He had fully intended to clean up after work and head into town, to cruise by the Capitol and meet up with Shelley and Abby again. But neither Marla nor Derek was home when he got there. The pickup was gone, and there was no sign of dinner. He sat down on the couch to wait for one of them to pull into the drive and fell asleep watching the news. When he awoke, it was almost eleven, Derek was coming through the front door smelling like old grease and hamburgers, and Marla was still gone. He ate a bowl of Frosted Flakes and sat stupidly looking at the television, his head thick and groggy.

And when Marla came through the door a few minutes later, looking disheveled and flustered, he simply looked at her and said, “Where the f*ck have you been?”

She averted her gaze from him and walked through the room toward the stairs. “I went to the movies.”

“Alone?”

She stared back at him this time, meeting his eyes. “Yes. Then I went and got something to eat.”

He felt rage building up in his gut. “You think I believe that?”

A muscle was working in her jaw. “I don’t care what you believe.” She tromped on upstairs, and Wade heard her moving around in the bedroom, then the sound of the shower.

He sat there, still looking at the television screen, wondering if she had been out with another man and why he didn’t just get up and beat the shit out of her. But in the end he decided he was just too damned tired. The last weekend of partying seemed to have caught up with him, and all he wanted to do was rest. And besides, even if Marla was seeing someone, he really didn’t give a f*ck anymore. He flipped off the TV and made his way upstairs and collapsed next to her in the bed.

And now as he sat in the dry heat of the barn and watched the shadows of the trees play across the green grass outside, he took another hit off the joint and thought of what he would do if Marla was cheating. In the end he figured it might be for the best. He would be free to do whatever the hell he wanted.

Wade smiled and felt his body melt into the chair. He would finish the joint and then get started on the brakes. And later he might head into town and try to meet up with the girls.

The day stretched lazily before him, full of fun and promise.

* * *

1:15 PM

Halloran stared at the remaining fries on his plate and took another sip of his Coke. He and Chapman had met for lunch at a small diner near the police station to talk about what their next move would be. He hoped it wouldn’t involve looking for a new job.

Last night had not gone well. Other than the clippings and the sex sling in the basement, the search of the mayor’s house had turned up nothing. Larry Carver was pissed. Chief Pettus was pissed. Hell, Halloran was pissed himself. Something wasn’t adding up. He was missing something, he knew it.

“You gonna eat those?” Chapman asked, pointing to Halloran’s fries.

Halloran grunted and slid the plate across the table. He watched Chapman shove the fries into his mouth and for a split second felt a shiver of revulsion. He licked his dry lips. He really needed a cigarette, but since the city passed the smoking ban last March he would have to wait until he got out to the car before lighting up. “You’ve certainly got a healthy appetite,” Halloran said.

Chapman licked his fingers. “I eat when I’m nervous. Especially when I’m about to be on the unemployment line.”

“Nobody’s going to be on the unemployment line,” Halloran said, and hoped he sounded convincing. “Besides, who’re they going to get to do our jobs?”

“Brooks would make a good detective,” Chapman said.

Halloran nodded. “I’ve thought the same thing myself. He doesn’t have the experience yet, though.”

“Or the training.”

Halloran blew out a breath. “I just knew we’d find something at Carver’s house. I felt it.”

Chapman popped the last fry into his mouth. “Maybe the lab will come up with something off those swabs.”

“Maybe.” Halloran sipped his Coke. “In the meantime, we’ll just stay out of Carver’s way. It’ll all blow over eventually.”

* * *

A little after seven, just as Halloran had settled in to watch the Cardinals game, he was summoned to an apartment building on Woodside. Chapman was already there, along with a couple of other officers.

One of the cops met him at the door, an obnoxious little guy named Pavoni. “Missing girl is Abigail Saunders,” Pavoni said, reading off his notepad. “Roommate said she hadn’t been able to reach her cell all weekend. Came in and found the place a mess about a half hour ago. Parents haven’t heard from her either.”

Halloran glanced at the sofa, where a sobbing blonde was already talking to Chapman.

“Back bedroom looks like a tornado went through it,” Pavoni went on. “Roommate was out of town last night, so we think that’s probably when it happened.”

Halloran peered into the hallway beyond. “Any crime techs here?”

Pavoni shook his head and jerked a thumb behind him. “Go on back.”

Halloran slipped past him and stuck his head in the doorway. The place was completely trashed. Clothing and books littered the floor. An overturned lamp by the bed cast grotesque shadows on the ceiling. He turned and made his way back to the living room and found Pavoni. “Anyone hear anything?”

“Nothing,” Pavoni told him. “All the tenants were out last night, and the old lady downstairs in the corner unit couldn’t hear thunder.”

“Anything missing?”

“The roommate hasn’t noticed anything gone, but with the mess, who knows.” Pavoni thumbed through his notes. “Oh, here’s something that might interest you. One of the neighbors noticed a black Ford Escort hanging around a good part of the morning yesterday. He said there was a guy inside, but he couldn’t get a good look at him. We’ve got an ATL out on the vehicle now.”

“Good.” Halloran pulled out his own notepad and jotted the information down. “I’ll check further on that.”

The roommate had finished talking to Chapman and was heading out the front door with a female officer. Chapman made his way over to Halloran. “It’s a mess back there.”

Halloran nodded. “Get anywhere with the roommate?”

“Not really. She’s gonna spend the night with a friend and come down to talk to us in the morning.”

Halloran blew out a breath. “Jesus, what else can happen in this town?”

* * *

8:43 PM

Wade had been sitting in the Capitol for almost half an hour now and Shelley and Abby were nowhere to be seen. He was still nursing his first beer at one of the side tables where he could keep an eye on the entrance to the club, and although quite a few hot women had come in, none of them were in the same league as his girls. He laughed at that. “His girls.” It made him sound like a pimp.

He wondered, not for the first time, if Shelley and Abby had just been playing him, f*cking with him. Perhaps they were tired of him already. They had all had some fun, but now maybe that was over. It would be no less than he deserved. He glanced at his watch again. It was still early, they still might show.

But finally at a quarter to nine, just as the crowd was becoming unbearably close, he decided he’d had enough. He had left his phone back at the house, so he couldn’t call them. They weren’t coming, and since this really wasn’t his scene, he figured he would head over to the Wild Horse and see what was happening there.

He pulled his truck out of the parking lot and on a whim swung a right and headed back toward the college campus. Maybe he would just drive by the house and see if anything was going on. Maybe they were entertaining some other man. Maybe he would surprise them. Maybe they would ask him to join them.

He turned onto Woodside and came to a screeching halt. There was something going on, all right. Three police cars and an ambulance were parked out front. The entire neighborhood was bathed in whirling, flashing light, and several people milled about in the street and on the sidewalk.

His breath had left his body and a cold sweat trickled down his forehead. What the f*ck? He had no idea what to think. What had happened? Were they all right? Was someone hurt? He sat there, looking at the activity surrounding the apartment house, feeling a cold dread pulse through him.

Something banged on the hood of the truck and he looked up to see a stout cop waving him on. “Come on, buddy, you can’t come this way.”

Wade nodded and waved back. He turned down a side street and headed back toward the edge of town, toward the Wild Horse. Behind him, the lights continued to flash with sickening intensity.

* * *

11:32 PM

He drove through the darkened town away from the campus, weaving through the traffic. Even for Saturday night there seemed to be more people out than usual. But no one was paying him any attention. His car was plain and unobtrusive. He had planned it that way.

It was going to be so easy to connect the missing girl with the others. Those stupid f*cking a*sholes couldn’t see past the ends of their dicks. When he was finished, they would tie all the girls together and then he would be home free. It couldn’t have been any better if he had planned it this way. It was as if all the stars had aligned or something.

He had just left the shopping district, heading toward the residential area, when he saw her. She plodded along the sidewalk in shorts and flipflops. A backpack in the form of a purple stuffed monkey hung over her shoulders beneath long tresses of blond hair. She turned toward him and the headlights brushed her face. She looked a little older—maybe fifteen—but she was unblemished and perfect.

He slowed down to match her gait and lowered the passenger side window. “Hey,” he said. “You’re out kinda late.”

“Heading home,” she said. “I’m gonna catch it for being out past eleven.”

He cleared his throat. “Need a ride?”

She looked up and down the deserted street, then smiled at him. He felt the blood rush to his crotch. She wasn’t afraid of him. They never were.