Chapter2

#Chapter2

The old man lunged, thrusting the pen straight toward Kacey’s left eye.

In the flash burn-instant of recognition, of her mind processing exactly what was happening, the thing that terrified Kacey most wasn’t the act that Faulkner was committing, it was the lifeless gaze of his doll-eyes as he attempted to shove the pen through her brain.

Even as this observation registered in Kacey’s mind, her body was in motion; two years of Judo in high school and three years of self-defense classes had resulted in keen reflexes. The rules that she had learned in those training sessions had become muscle memory. And first and foremost among those rules was that if someone attacked you with a weapon, that weapon was the only thing that mattered.

Kacey slipped her head to the right and instinctively executed another rule, /"two on one/"—by grasping the wrist of Faulkner’s thrusting pen hand with both of her own hands.

She redirected the attack up and over her shoulder and rotated so that her back was no longer against the closed door, the pen raking a long furrow into the wood as she pulled the wrist across, then yanked it out and down, bending her knees, taking on the old man’s weight. She then straightened her legs and continued the momentum of the arm, tossing Faulkner into the nearby bookshelf, his arcing legs splintering wood and sending volumes tumbling out onto the carpet. Kacey shoved her right knee in the old man’s gut as they reached the floor.

Still with that dead stare, Faulkner clawed at Kacey’s face while she held the pen-wielding hand down. She freed her right hand, batted the old man’s left hand away, and dropped three vicious elbows… aiming for his chin, but the first one missed and struck his nose instead. There was a popping sound and an immediate gushing of blood. Her second strike hit his jaw; the third finally did the trick and knocked Faulkner out cold.

The office door opened. She heard a timid voice ask /"is everything okay?/" and looked up to see the secretary peeking in. When the woman’s gaze landed on Kacey and the downed old man, her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

/"No. No, sweetie, everything is definitely not okay,/" Kacey said.

Kacey wiped at her heavy eyelids.

Unsurprisingly, she hadn’t slept for more than a few hours. Whenever she had closed her eyes, Faulkner’s eyes were waiting; cold and inhuman, like those glass orbs taxidermists used.

This morning when she had left her apartment, as she had approached her neighbor Mrs. Beesley who was out walking her dog, she imagined the woman’s face going blank, imagined her saying /"I am chosen/" as she dropped the leash, withdrew a carving knife from behind her back and advanced, blank faced, like some kind of wind-up soldier.

As she had driven to the station her mind ran scenarios in which drivers passing in the opposing lane mouthed the words /"I am chosen/" before swerving over and colliding with her head-on.

That was the problem with these Chosen killings. Anyone was capable of murder. Everyone was a suspect.

Even now, as she sat in Captain Bryce’s office she had angled her chair so she could keep an eye on the door.

You have got to relax.

She glanced around the room. Unlike Faulkner’s setup, the captain’s office actually looked used. Papers sat in disarray on the desk, wires and cables trailed haphazardly from his computer, a gym bag sat on the floor…

/"Alright,/" came the captain’s baritone voice as he entered. Kacey kept an eye on him as he closed the door, walked around his desk and sat at the edge of his chair, elbows on the desktop. His brown eyes fixed on Kacey as he said /"First things first: You okay?/"

/"Doctor Faulkner won’t be getting my referral any time soon but yeah I’m fine./"

/"Whatcom County Sheriff’s Office will handle investigation of the doctor. They’ll give me their findings and I’ll keep you informed. In the meantime…/"

Bryce reached into his desk drawer, retrieved a gun and badge, and put them on the desk. /"Internal investigation cleared you of any wrongdoing in the Crowe shooting, and the Chief agreed the psych evaluation was mostly a formality. Especially in light of the… special circumstance…/"

/"Good. ‘Cause Faulkner totally said he was gonna give me the all-clear. Right before he tried to shove a ballpoint pen through my head./"

/"Well, either way, you’re back on duty. With one caveat: I’m partnering you up./"

/"What?/"

Bryce held up a hand. /"Don’t give me that ‘I don’t play well with others’ crap. There’s still too much we don’t know, such as: did Crowe plant some kind of hypnotic suggestion on Faulkner, or was Crowe working with someone who wants revenge for his killing, who manipulated the doctor? Until we get more answers, you’re on the buddy system./"

Kacey’s shoulders dropped in defeat. /"Who?/"

/"Hollis./"

Well that really sucked. /"You gotta be kidding me. The guy’s a dinosaur. You know what he said about me?/"

/"Yeah I heard. Look, I could have put you with Hanson,/" Bryce said with a slight smirk.

/"That is so not funny./" Hanson and Kacey had dated for almost five months, and had just broken up three weeks ago.

Before Kacey could protest further, a knock came at the captain’s door. /"Yeah!/" Bryce yelled. Garth, a uniformed officer, poked his head in. /"Sorry to bug you sir but I thought you’d want to hear right away… it’s about Mister Crowe./"

/"You mean our dead suspect?/"

Garth sounded reluctant to say anything more, but continued anyway. /"Yeah, uh… We got a call from Shady Acres. Looks like someone dug up his body./"