One Step Ahead

No Time To Play

February 14th, 4:45 AM

      Sitting in front of his computer, he cursed under his breath as he scrolled through the files that he had pulled up. Even with the software that he had installed, there was still certain information he couldn't access, and it had become entirely too risky to attempt to do so at work. The asshole from the IA department had become a constant fixture in the office over the last several days, as had the ridiculous bitch from the FBI. After Sanger had called the department into a meeting to let Pruitt present them with her so-called "profile", he had been hard-pressed to decide whether he most wanted to laugh, or put a bullet in her head for having the temerity to think that she could actually understand his thinking, his reasons for engaging in his work.

      He had decided to do some research on Ashley Purdy's bandmates, as well as anyone that he could link to Briar Malveaux, hoping to determine which one was most likely to know where they had gone. He had fully intended to pay one or more of these individuals a visit, and have a rather thorough "discussion" of the pair's possible whereabouts, but was infuriated to realize that his colleagues had anticipated this possibility, and had officers actively patrolling the neighborhoods. They had even gone so far as to borrow personnel from both the county sheriff's department and the CHPD. He was also nearly willing to bet that there were undercover FBI agents involved as well, since MacDevitt had called the Bureau for assistance.

      He had hoped that the mayor would protest, or even overrule, this decision, to no avail. It seemed that the attack on the safehouse, along with a current manpower shortage, had tipped the scales against him, because both the mayor and the board of commissioners had essentially given MacDevitt carte blanche to handle things however he saw fit. "Which means if I try to contact any of these assholes, I'm as good as turning myself in," he grumbled under his breath. "And I can't do that, obviously. I still have too much work to do. So I guess I have to find them the hard way."

      Deciding to scan through the files once more before shutting down the computer, in case there was something he had overlooked, he turned his attention back to the screen. He spent the next thirty minutes combing through everything he had found about the members of Black Veil Brides, their crew, and several of Briar's movie colleagues, and just as he was about to give up and go on to more entertaining pursuits, something caught his eye in the file on her business partner, Wiley Frazier.

      "How the fuck did I not notice this earlier?" he breathed, as he studied the monitor more intently, seeing that Mr. Frazier had made a recent real-estate purchase, a small vacation property near Cachuma Lake. "This is definitely worth checking out."

      He turned off the computer, rose from his chair, and started for the bedroom. Once there, he pulled a duffle bag from the closet and began filling it with necessities: clothing, high-powered binoculars, a pair of hypodermic needles, and a small glass vial. After a moments consideration, he opened a drawer and added a pistol to the bag. "Just in case," he whispered. Then he walked to the kitchen and added several packages of snack food to the cache, and filled a large thermos with tea from a pitcher in the refrigerator. 

      Carrying the items to the living room and placing them near the door, he returned to the bedroom and changed into clothing more suited to spending time in the wilderness than his normal work attire. Once that was done, he returned to the front of the house and pulled his coat from the rack, pulling it on and reaching for the bag. But before his hand closed on it, he realized that he had forgotten something. Heaving an aggrieved sigh, he tossed his coat onto the sofa and returned to the kitchen. 

      After collecting some items from the refrigerator and cabinets, he left the room and walked to the end of the hallway, descending the stairs into the basement, where he stored items that he seldom used, and things that he hadn't yet gotten around to donating or throwing away. Pulling a keyring from his pocket, he moved to a door on the far side of the room and inserted a key in the heavy padlock keeping it secure. As the door opened, he heard a slight scuffling noise, and couldn't suppress a chuckle.

      "So sorry, Dolly, no time to play with you right now," he informed the battered, quivering woman who cowered as far away from him as the restraints fastening her hands to the wall would allow, staring at him with the one eye which hadn't swollen shut. Placing a large bottle of Hawaiian Punch and a packet of rice cakes on the floor, he approached his captive, who tried to press herself even further into the corner.

      Grimacing at the smell that permeated the poorly ventilated room, he roughly grabbed her arm, jerking her forward and, using another key on the ring, he freed her hands from the manacles that had begun to dig painfully into the flesh of her wrists, leaving her ankle still shackled, attached to the length of heavy logging chain fastened into a sturdy eyebolt embedded into the concrete floor. This allowed her a small degree of movement around the room, but was still short and weighty enough to be uncomfortable.

      "I have to go away for a bit, and since I still have plans for you, I suppose that I have to leave you some food and drink to keep you alive while I'm gone," he explained. "Not that you deserve it, but I suppose it has to be done. I'm not sure when I'll return, so you had better be careful and make this last, since there won't be any more until I get back."

      Dolly gazed at him fearfully, but stayed silent, knowing that requests for her freedom would either fall on deaf ears, or anger him enough to engage in one of his "lessons". She warily crouched down and crept toward the bottle of juice as he turned away from her, preparing to leave. As he reached the door, however, her curiosity got the better of her, and even though she didn't really expect an answer, she inquired, "What sort of plans are you talking about?"

      Taking her by surprise, he threw back his head and let out a genuinely amused laugh, and turned toward her again, with an almost beatific smile. "Why, Dolly, do you mean that you don't know how special you are?" he asked her. "You are going to have the honor of being my final statement to this town, before I take my work elsewhere, to another town that needs to be cleansed. Don't you worry, I have something special in mind for you, as soon as I tie up this last loose end. So be good, I'll be back for you soon."

      He closed and relocked the door and went back upstairs, grabbing the bag and thermos and carrying them to his car. After placing them in the seat, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number he knew almost as well as his own, glad that the current state of affairs in the department offered him exactly the opportunity he needed to complete his task.

      The phone rang several times, and when that all-too-familiar annoying voice filled his ear, he smiled, and said, "Hey there, boss. I know you really don't want to hear this, but I'm sick as a dog right now, I'd have to feel better to die. So I don't think I'm going to be able to make it in today."

      After completing the call, he started his vehicle and made his way through the early-morning quiet of his suburban neighborhood, heading for the freeway, and Cachuma Lake. "Hopefully, this is where you're hiding," he muttered, flipping on the blinker as he approached his exit. "But even if you're not, it's just postponing the inevitable. Because I will find you, and I will make you sorry that you ever crossed my path. Very, very sorry indeed."