“Too bad we hadn’t pulled it before,” he said. “This guy is just a kid. He’ll never grow up and live a normal life. He’ll never get married and have kids,” Rodney said, shaking his head, his lips thinning in anger. “It’s senseless!”
“Look at who he is shooting,” she said. “Why is he picking healthy young men? Like we discussed earlier, maybe the shooter is not young, not healthy himself? Is he making his victims pay a price for his own ill health or something?” she asked. “What’s his motive?”
“And the killing is fast and simple. He gets to see it happen, but maybe that’s all he can do.”
“Exactly,” she said. “Maybe he’s not physically capable of getting out of the vehicle and taking these guys down.”
“Maybe he doesn’t have the skill, the strength, or maybe he doesn’t even have the guts,” Rodney added. “You know, like a scaredy-cat killing. From a distance, largely undercover, with an easy getaway, so there’s very little chance in his mind that he’ll get caught. So he’s pulling these stunts and taking down people just because he can.”
Noting his reaction, she put in the call to Reese, requesting to get as much as the VPD analyst could find on similar cases in Vancouver and all surrounding areas.
*
Prepared, Simon headedout for the day, going from one area to the other, slowly taking things off his list. When he walked down the back alley of one of his favorite places, he quietly knocked on a subdued and partially hidden wooden door. When he heard a woman’s voice on the other side, he said, “It’s Simon.”
A little window opened at the top, and a woman’s face peered through. He held up a roll of bills. “Something to help you out for the next month.”
Immediately she opened the door and accepted the money with a big smile. “You know, if it wasn’t for guys like you, I don’t—”
“I get it,” he said, with a nod. “Get back in there before anybody sees you.”
And, with that, she closed the door, and he kept on going. He had a soft spot for women’s shelters and an even softer spot for kids who found themselves in tough situations. He helped out all kinds of charities, but he was committed to seeking out those who needed help but didn’t fit into the existing charity systems. Those were even harder to find. Simon knew several street kids and several sex workers he would help, especially if they pushed the money along to the kids. Paying it forward was an unspoken agreement. He would ignore their illegal activities among consenting adults, and they would keep him out of the loop of all the lawbreaking, providing that they held up their end of the bargain, and the bulk of the money went toward the kids in need. There were always kids in need.
As Simon made his way back to the building that he was looking at buying, he heard a voice in the background.
Do it.
He frowned, stopped, and looked around, trying to see who had said it. Finding nobody close to him, he finally muttered, “Do what?”
And there came the voice again.
Do it. A hoarse whisper, pushing him to do something.
He shook his head. “Well, I won’t do something just because you say so, asshole.”
And the voice came again.Do it. Just do it.
He frowned once more, not exactly sure who was talking or where the voice came from. And knowing he would likely experience more crippling visions—if that’s what this was—he went into a small park and sat down on a bench, slightly out of view from anybody, in case he fell unconscious for a moment. He was tired, but he wasn’t that tired that he would fall asleep outside.
Although he was more tired than expected, and that could be why this voice was creeping into his space. It was not anything that he was comfortable with. He closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind, sending the message to go away.
But instead the voice whispered,Come on. Just do it.
Simon shrugged. “You know what? You’re really pissing me off,” he muttered. “Go away.”
And he reached up mentally and slammed the door. Almost instantly a sense of peace entered his mind. Beaming, he hopped to his feet. “Got that fixed.” And he laughed. He kept on walking, feeling better, although in the back of his mind was that little concern because he had thought he was clear of all this psychic garbage. And it wasn’t garbage. He got that. But he didn’t want anything to do with it either. He kept on walking, and suddenly the door in his mind burst open again.
Do it!This time the voice was harder and stronger.
He frowned, froze, and looked around. “Do what?”
Chapter 4
Kate’s Thursday
After another longday, Kate had an ugly realization. She’d followed all the leads and had done everything she could on the recent drive-by shooting cases, and, when she finally closed the file and dropped it at the side of her desk with an ugly sigh, Rodney looked at her and said, “It happens that way sometimes.”
“It’s just so frustrating,” she muttered. “Somebody knows something.”