Bad Karma

Chapter 15

As Shannon drove to the dead students’ apartment he kept thinking about Linda Gibson. The image of her from his dream had crystallized in his mind, and he could picture vividly the amused little smile that had cracked her face when she spoke those German words to him. At some point he must’ve heard the phrase in a movie and filed it away in his subconscious. Except-and the thought stopped him cold-for it to be something like that he would’ve had to’ve had that dream after he’d been in the apartment. Otherwise how would he have known what type of stereo speakers they had, if any at all? But he had that dream before he ever set foot in there. Maybe one of the newspapers had shown a picture of the inside of their bedroom. Maybe he had filed it away in his subconscious also…

Or maybe Eli was right.

Whichever it was, he decided he had more important things to focus on at that moment.

He still had the keys to the students’ apartment on him. When he arrived at the townhouse he slipped on a pair of latex gloves he took from his trunk, then unlocked the police padlock and the deadbolt and went to the bedroom. There he looked at the speakers mounted on both sides of the flat panel TV. German brand speakers. He removed the front of one of them. It came off easily. The guts had been removed, and sitting inside the empty casing was a stack of hundred dollar bills. He counted thirteen thousand two hundred dollars, then put the money back and slid the front cover back on. He was only mildly surprised when he slid off the front of the other speaker and found a video camera inside of it pointing towards the bed. A tape was still in the camera. He took it out and plugged it into a VCR by the TV.

The tape showed Linda Gibson and Taylor Carver having sex with Nirvana blasting away in the background. About ten minutes into the tape, a bang could be heard over the music. Carver and Gibson stopped what they were doing, both of them looking surprised as they craned their necks sideways to face the bedroom door. There was another bang, this one louder. Shannon guessed that the first one came from the front door of the apartment being kicked in, the second from the bedroom door being swung hard into the wall. Carver jumped off the bed then, clearly agitated. At that point he had moved outside the frame of the camera. Someone, probably Carver, yelled “what the fuck”, and that was followed by two thuds. They occurred almost simultaneously-the second one louder than the first. Linda screamed then, and scrambled off the bed. Before she was outside of the video frame, the barrel of an aluminum baseball bat caught her on the side of the face and she fell out of view. For thirty seconds the only sound was Nirvana blasting away. Then more soft thuds could be heard over the music. Many more. Some of them accompanied by blood spraying onto the bed and across the video frame. Then the thuds stopped. The music stopped also. After that nothing but silence, maybe for a minute, maybe two, then a loud crack-the sound of a baseball being hit out of the park. Shannon knew it wasn’t a baseball that had found the sweet spot on the bat.

His cell phone rang, jolting him back to the present. He stopped the video and saw that it was Susan calling him from the Boulderado.

“Hi darling,” she said. “I was surprised to see you gone when I woke up.”

“Yeah, I took off last night. I knew if I hung around I’d end up waking you.”

“What’s wrong, hon? You sound strange.”

“Nothing’s wrong, at least not what you think.” Shannon paused, then told her about finding a videotape showing Carver and Gibson being murdered.”

“They actually videotaped themselves killing those two students?”

“Not exactly. Carver and Gibson had a camera hidden in their bedroom. They were filming themselves having sex when the murders happened. The killings were for the most part off camera, and my guess, whoever did it had no idea the camera was there. Unfortunately, due to dumb plain luck the killer never made an appearance on the videotape.”

“Why would they use a hidden camera to videotape themselves?” Susan asked.

“Maybe only one of them knew the camera was there,” he said, but as he thought about the way both Carver and Linda acted while they were having sex and the way both of them played to the camera, he didn’t think that was true. So it was a good question, one that Shannon was beginning to have a hunch about. Something that could explain the money sitting in the empty speaker.

“Susie,” he told her. “I think I’m going to be busy most of the day. I probably won’t be able to see you until dinner.”

“Take your time. I’m going to visit Emily this morning, and I have some other things I’d like to do later. Hon, whether or not that videotape leads to the murderers, you should be proud of yourself for finding it. I’ll be looking forward all day to seeing you later.”

After they hung up, he rewound the tape to where Linda was hit across the face with the bat, then played it frame by frame to see if he could spot a reflection in the surface of the bat. He couldn’t find any. He fast forwarded the tape to the end and placed it back in the camera.

He pulled his latex gloves off, then called Daniels’ cell phone number and left a message suggesting where Daniels should look in the dead students’ apartment.

When he stepped out of the apartment, Maguire was waiting in the vestibule, his face unnaturally pale and his mouth not quite right. His voice sounded somewhat strangled when he told Shannon he thought he heard a woman scream in the neighboring condo.

Shannon put the padlock back in place, then made a decision as he reached for his car keys. “I need to go to Denver,” he told Maguire. “If you want to tag along, I’ll tell you about it.”

Maguire nodded. “Okay, sure.”

Shannon tossed him his keys. “You mind driving? I’ve got some calls to make along the way.”

They sat in a diner, Shannon with a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of him, Maguire still waiting for the corned beef hash and eggs that he had ordered. During the ride to Denver, Shannon squeezed in telling Maguire about the videotape he had found in between calls he needed to make and Daniels calling him back wanting to know how Shannon knew about the speakers. Shannon simply told the lieutenant he had a hunch about them and asked whether Daniels had found anything inside of them, at which point Daniels hung up. Now as he ate his pancakes, he checked his watch and saw it was only twenty-five past ten. He still had a half hour to kill.

Maguire’s hash and eggs were brought over. He played around with his food, then asked Shannon again about the videotape. “I still can’t get over that you found that tape,” he said. “When I heard that scream I almost called the police. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I should’ve given you a heads-up.”

Maguire took a small bite of his food, but seemed barely aware of it. “I still can’t get over a camera being hidden there.”

“Yeah, caught me a little by surprise too.”

“And it didn’t pick up a single shot of the killer? What a lucky sonofabitch.”

“It probably didn’t. It’s possible the FBI can process it and find a reflection somewhere. I don’t think they will, but it’s possible.”

Maguire pulled at his lower lip as he thought about it. “The whole thing’s unbelievable,” he said. “I guess we’ll be seeing some of that tape on the news, huh?”

Shannon shrugged. Even though it had been almost twenty-four hours since he had eaten anything solid, he didn’t have much of an appetite. He forced himself to finish off the pancakes knowing it was going to be a long day. Maguire appeared to have even less of an appetite, for the most part pushing his food from one part of the plate to the other, all the while shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe a video camera had captured the murders-even if only partially.

Rude stood at the corner of East Colfax and Nineteenth Street where Shannon expected to find him. There was no mistaking him given the description Shannon had. Late fifties, bald, with a thick gray mustache, and hard rubbery flesh which hung loosely from his body the way it does when someone has lost muscle mass in a short time. A number of bluish-green tattoos showed on his skin, all of which gave the appearance of being deflated. Like tires that had the air taken out. The man stared blindly off into the distance smoking a cigarette.

Shannon drove up to him and got out of his car. Maguire stayed seated. “Rude?”

The man’s eyes shifted to meet Shannon’s. Before he could answer he broke into a violent coughing fit and hacked up something red that could’ve been a small piece of his lung. He wiped pinkish spittle off his chin with the back of his hand. Looking past Shannon, he asked in a weak, raspy voice, “Who wants to know?”

Shannon introduced himself. “A friend of yours, Max Roth, thought you might be able to help me.”

“Let’s see some ID.”

Shannon showed Rude his PI license. Rude’s eyes remained vacant as he glanced at it. He lowered his gaze to Shannon’s damaged hand. “How’d you lose those fingers?”

“Line of duty. I used to be a cop.”

“Yeah, thought I smelled cop on you. Who’s the boy scout in the car?”

“An intern I’m training.”

Rude accepted that. “He’s no cop. That’s for fucking sure.” He took a long drag on his cigarette and flicked what was left of it onto the sidewalk. He lit up a fresh one, nodding towards Shannon. “Max Roth, huh? Denver’s most famous PI thanks to that crap newspaper column, “The Roth Report”. I end up doing his dirty work and never get a fucking mention. Just like with the asshole before him, Johnny Lane. Ever hear of Lane?”

For the first time some life flickered in Rude’s eyes. Shannon nodded. “Yeah, I read about him.”

“Rotten sonofabitch,” Rude said, his eyes glazing over. “I hope they’re toasting his balls right now wherever he ended up.” He started making a wheezing sound, and Shannon realized the guy was laughing. The wheezing turned into another coughing fit and more pinkish stuff being spat out. Rude’s eyes shone as he looked at Shannon. “I got the big C,” he said. “In the lungs. According to the doctors I should be dead now. Bad enough I went through chemo, fuck if I’m going to live out my last days in a hospital bed. Not after spending three years in the jungles of Cambodia. So what the fuck you want with me?”

“I’m trying to find someone who sells porn tapes. The kind where one of the parties doesn’t know they’re being filmed.”

Rude sucked hard on his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs before directing it out his nostrils. “Those are illegal. You could go to jail selling those.”

“That’s why I thought I could use your help.”

“Why you looking for them? You a perv?”

“I’m trying to figure out a double-murder that happened in Boulder.”

“The two college kids killed?” Amusement shone in his eyes. “They were making these types of videos?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Rude considered it, nodded. “Sure, I’ll help you. Two hundred bucks. Something else too.” He looked away, took another drag on his cigarette. “If you solve these murders and give a story to reporters, I want you mentioning I helped you. If your name goes in the paper, I want my name there too.”

“Deal.” Shannon counted out two hundred dollars and handed it to Rude. Rude rolled the bills into a wad and stuck it in his pants pocket without bothering to count it. He stopped to fill up his lungs with cigarette smoke, then made a call on his cell phone and talked briefly, giving Shannon’s name. He told Shannon, “Go to Sex Emporium on Colfax and Fourteenth. Look for a punk with long greasy hair named Starks. Likes to think he should be a movie star, but he’s nothing but a perv. Every voyeur tape he’s got he’s seen. If you’ve got pictures of those two college kids, he’ll know if they’ve made any.”

Rude looked away then, his eyes focusing on something too far off into the distance for Shannon or anyone else to see.

It wasn’t difficult picking out Starks. Aside from some old men and a couple of large farm boys walking around the sex shop, the place was empty except for a guy in his late thirties standing behind the counter who fit Rude’s description. He had a medium build, brown hair that fell inches past his shoulders and reasonably good looks that were ruined by dark, hollowed-out eyes. No matter how much he might want to look like a movie star, those eyes would be his downfall. Shannon approached him and asked, “Are you Starks?”

Something close to amusement flickered in the dark hollows of the man’s eyes. He smiled amiably at Shannon, “You the PI Rude sent over?”

Shannon nodded, showed him his license. Starks seemed satisfied with it. He nodded towards Maguire. “What about him-your friend along for the giggles?”

“I’m training him in the business.”

“Yeah, well, you and Junior PI follow me.”

Starks got out from behind the counter and led them to a backroom. “Okay, friend,” he said to Shannon. “Let me see who you’re interested in.”

Shannon handed him pictures of Carver and Gibson. Starks smiled pleasantly at them. “Oh, these two honeys,” he said. “Yeah, they’re very active in the types of films you’re asking about. I’m a big fan of their work. I should be able to get you a complete collection.”

Starks went through several boxes against the wall. It took him a while, but when he was done he raked his fingers through his hair to straighten it and handed Shannon a stack of DVDs. Shannon counted seven of them. “A hundred and seventy-five bucks a piece,” Starks said. “And worth every penny of it. All the chicks in these are absolutely gorgeous. Nothing but honeys.”

There were no titles on them, but each DVD cover showed pictures of either Linda with another woman or a threesome with Carver joining in. Shannon could feel his palms sweat when he recognized Melissa Cousins in one of the pictures. Another showed the same woman who had confronted him at True Light’s compound. Others looked familiar.

“Any idea how much money someone can make producing these?” Shannon asked.

“Not my expertise. I’m only the little guy in the chain who sells them. But there’s big bucks involved. A large market for these puppies, and for good reason. They’re more raw, more alive than X-rated productions. And as you can see, much more expensive. But after a while you get bored with the studio releases, so what are you going to do?”

Shannon nodded towards a monitor and DVD player in the room. “I’d like to look at them first before buying.”

Starks’ eyes glazed. He smiled at Shannon. “Yeah, sure, friend, if that’s what you’d like. I’d have to ask for a small rental fee. Thirty bucks per DVD. Cash only.”

Shannon was tapped out at a hundred and fifty cash. Maguire came up with the rest. Starks took the cash and gave both men an oily smile. “Knock yourself out, boys,” he said before leaving.

There were a couple of chairs by the monitor and DVD player. Shannon and Maguire both elected to stand. Shannon went through each DVD as quickly as he could, fast-forwarding through most of it and stopping only to try to recognize the women involved. They all started off the same, with Linda taking one of the cult members to the bed, the two women undressing, engaging in different sex acts, then later Carver joining in. Through all of it either heavy metal or grunge music blasted in the background. Nirvana and Metallica were used a lot. A few times instead of Carver, an ugly skinny kid with tattoos took his place. After a couple of times coming across this same kid, Shannon realized he was Carver’s brother, Randall.

As he fast-forwarded through the last of the DVDs, Maguire elbowed him. “Back it up a little and play it again at normal speed.” Shannon did, and he caught what Maguire had seen. The woman in the shot glanced towards a corner of the room and smiled vacantly. It seemed like an odd thing for her to do, as if she were subserviently acknowledging someone. Shannon went back through a couple of the other DVDs looking for the same gesture and found that all of the women in them did the same thing. He realized why. Paveeth must have been sitting off camera observing.

By the time he was finished viewing the DVDs, he had matched three women to the photographs Maguire had taken, and, along with Melissa Cousins, had recognized other women from his time in the True Light compound. He was also pretty sure he had seen the redhead that Eddie had described to him.

“Why do I now feel like scrubbing myself with sulfuric acid?” Maguire remarked.

“I don’t know, but save some for me.”

“Do you think any of the girls knew they were being filmed?”

“No.”

Maguire thought about that, his eyes dull as he shook his head. “I still can’t believe those two were making videos like that right next door to me.”

Shannon shrugged. Watching the DVDs didn’t leave him in much of a mood for small talk. He tried the door, found it locked and banged on it. Starks opened it and walked in. The two farm boys who’d been milling about the store followed behind him.

Shannon handed him the stack of DVDs and told him which one he wanted to buy. He needed one of them to prove the connection between Paveeth and the murdered students, and he chose one which didn’t feature Melissa Cousins but where he was able to recognize most of the women as cult members. Starks checked all the DVD boxes to make sure that nothing had been taken. Shannon asked him whether he took credit cards.

Starks smiled amiably and raked his fingers through his long hair. “Sorry, friend, these items are cash only. Can’t afford to leave any sort of paper trail. You understand.”

Maguire offered to go to a cash machine. Shannon gave him his car keys, and Starks opened the door to let him out. The next ten minutes waiting for Maguire were long ones. Starks, along with the two large farm boys stood silently smirking at Shannon, as if he were a member of their fraternity. And they smelled bad, Starks with his heavy musk cologne and the two farm boys smelling like onions and sweat. When Maguire returned with the money he was out of breath, a sheen of perspiration covering his face. Starks counted the money and stepped aside to let them pass.

When they got in the car, Shannon headed towards 36 West to take them back to Boulder. Neither of them seemed in much of a mood to talk. After about twenty minutes Maguire commented that it didn’t seem like Starks had any idea that the ‘two honeys’ were the college students who were killed.

“I don’t think he did either, which is just as well. Otherwise, he would’ve jacked up the price.”

There was another long period of silence before Maguire asked whether the DVDs would tie the cult to his neighbors’ murders.

“I’m hoping so. It pretty much shows that Paveeth, Carver and Linda Gibson were partners in making these films. I’m also now having second thoughts about whether the killers knew about the hidden camera. Paveeth would’ve known about it and so would his Russian muscle. It could explain why the killers were lucky enough to stay out of the video.”

Shannon’s cell phone rang. It was Susan. In a rushed breathless voice she told him she was in trouble. That she was at True Light’s compound.

A slow panic took over as Susan’s words made sense to him. He thought about the Russians being in his apartment, about them seeing pictures of Susan and knowing who she was. He could hear himself asking her to tell him what happened.

“I went back there. Now don’t get mad at me! I know I shouldn’t’ve but I wanted to get some of that incense so you’d be able to have it analyzed. Two men came into the cult-”

“Wait a minute. Describe them.”

“I think they were both cult members. They were both young, bald, wearing white robes.”

“Yeah, okay, I know who you’re talking about.”

“Bill, I think they were looking for me. It was the way they were staring at me. I’m not sure, but I think they might’ve had a picture of me. They selected some of the other women there to meet Vishna. Before I knew what was happening, they grabbed me also. They took our backpacks and pocketbooks from us and herded us into a van. The other women went willingly, but there was nothing I could do, it happened so fast and I was just dragged along with them!”

“Where are you now?”

“They separated me from the rest of them. I think I’m in the same room you were locked in. There’s no handle on the door. Thank God they didn’t search me, otherwise they would’ve found my cell phone, and thank God they’re making them so small these days! I’m scared, Bill-”

Shannon heard a door being opened, then Susan demanding that she be released. A vaguely familiar voice hushed her, telling her how much he’d been waiting to meet her. The phone went dead. Shannon realized the familiar voice was Dmitry’s.

He was fifteen miles from the True Light compound. Tossing Maguire his cell phone, he told him to call both 911 and Lieutenant Mark Daniels and tell them that his ex-wife’s been kidnapped and taken to True Light. He pushed hard on the gas pedal until his foot pressed against the floor of the car. The car jerked forward, accelerating until it topped out at one hundred and ten miles per hour. The traffic was light but Shannon still had to weave between cars, and at one point, squeezed between two trucks. He ignored both of their horn blasts and Maguire’s yelling, his knuckles a hard white as he gripped the wheel, his leg muscles straining to keep him in his seat. He didn’t let up on the accelerator until the True Light compound came into sight. There were no police cruisers there. He had beaten them to the place.

He skidded to a stop by the main gate, got out and found the. 38 snub nose in his trunk. Taking a running jump, he was able to get halfway up the metal fence and pull himself over. On the way down, he ripped his hand on the spike topping one of the posts but ignored it and raced to the side of the building where he knew the solarium was. A dozen or so women in white robes sat inside. A few of them noticed him and gawked. He shot one bullet through the glass pane to structurally weaken it. That got the dozen or so cult members inside screaming and scurrying from the area. Shannon shoved the revolver in his waistband, found a small boulder, maybe thirty pounds, and slammed it against the bullet hole. The pane shattered into a hard rain of jagged glass. Taking the gun in his hand, Shannon ran through the opening. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a blur of motion, and dropped quickly to his knees. The larger stooge, Curly, tumbled over him as he ran to throw a haymaker and lay sprawled on the floor. Shannon flipped him over and grabbed him by the throat. Pieces of broken glass had sliced the stooge’s face up and he was bleeding from dozens of wounds. He also looked like he was about to go into shock.

Shannon slapped him hard across the face. That brought his eyes back to life. His little mouth screwed up and he spat out that he would live his life in bliss.

Shannon slapped him again. “Where’d they take her?”

“Bliss!” the stooge yelled at him.

“Forget bliss, you’ll be lucky to get Centennial Prison. You tell me where they took her, or I’ll start knocking your teeth out. And Curly, that will make you a popular guy at Centennial.”

“Bliss!” the stooge yelled.

Shannon whacked his mouth with the butt end of the gun knocking out the stooge’s front teeth. He showed the stooge one of them, and the stooge’s mouth puckered up as if he were about to start bawling. “The dungeon,” he cried when he saw the gun lifted again. “They took her to the dungeon!”

“Where the fuck’s that?”

The stooge started bawling. Shannon slapped him again in the face, but saw it was useless. He wasn’t going to get anything more from him. As he stood up, he saw the smaller stooge watching from a distance, a tentative look on his face. Their eyes met and the stooge started running. Shannon chased after him. All around him women in white robes were wailing away. He pushed his way past them. The smaller stooge led him down a hallway he hadn’t seen before. Almost as if it were happening in slow motion, a panel in the wall slid open and Dmitry appeared. The Russian moved faster than he did, raising a. 45 caliber automatic and firing. Shannon threw himself to the floor. On his way down the bullet tore through his right shoulder. He landed with a thud, got his left arm stretched out in front of him and fired off two shots leaving red dots on Dmitry’s chest. The Russian looked curiously at the expanding dots, then his knees buckled and he fell dead.

Shannon’s shoulder felt like it was on fire. As if someone were jabbing inside of him with a red-hot poker. The room started to spin but he got to his feet and steadied himself, his right arm limp at his side, blood dripping down his fingers. He could feel a wet stickiness spreading down his body. He knew he was bleeding badly. Only half aware of it, he looked at his blood and gore splattered on the wall next to him, then pushed himself forward. He stepped over Dmitry’s body and went through the opening in the wall. This led him down a narrow corridor and into the dungeon.

He stood dazed for a second, not quite believing what he saw-it was like something out of medieval times. Manacles hung from the ceiling, swords, maces and other similar-type weapons were mounted on the back wall. Susan lay chained to a table in the middle of the room that was tilted at a forty-five degree angle. Her eyes were open and her head rolled slowly from side to side. She was out of it, obviously drugged. Standing next to her was a man wearing a black leather hood and nothing else. He was in the process of cutting off Susan’s clothing with a dagger. When he saw Shannon raise his gun, the man put the edge of the dagger to Susan’s throat.

“Put down gun,” he croaked out in a thick Russian accent, “or I cut her head off-”

Shannon shot him once in his left eye. The man fell backwards and the dagger clattered harmlessly to the floor.

“Susan, are you okay? Can you hear me?” Shannon yelled out. Her head rolled to face him, but there was no recognition in her eyes. He moved towards her, and only then noticed the tripod and video camera set up in the shadows of the room. Behind them Anil Paveeth sat in a chair, his face blank, his eyes darting from Shannon to the dead Russian on the floor.

Shannon pointed his gun at him and yelled for him to put his hands on his head. Paveeth complied. Keeping an eye on Paveeth, he made his way over to Susan. Both her ankles were manacled to the table, her wrists also manacled with her arms pulled over her head. Her shirt had been ripped open by the dagger. He pulled the fabric aside and saw that she hadn’t been cut. He put a hand to her cheek. Her skin felt cold.

“What did you drug her with?” The cult leader’s face looked small as it stared out from the shadows, his black eyes now darting from Shannon to the opening in the wall. “Rohypnol,” Paveeth said in a scared little boy’s voice.

Shannon examined one of the manacles. “Where are the keys?”

“I will give it to you.”

Paveeth started to stand. Shannon leveled the gun towards his chest. “Stay seated. I’ll get it from you.”

Paveeth lowered himself back down. Moving on pure adrenaline now and feeling his strength ebbing fast, Shannon made his way over to him. He transferred the gun to his dead right hand so he could take the key with his left. With his shoulder chewed up by a. 45 slug, he couldn’t raise his right arm but he still kept the gun level with Paveeth. He could see the thought cross the cult leader’s dark face. “You can try it,” Shannon said. “But I’ll get a shot off.” Paveeth sank lower in his chair and handed Shannon a key.

Shannon walked back to Susan, all the while keeping Paveeth in his field of vision. He tried calling the police on his cell phone, but was unable to get a signal to dial out on. Gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the red-hot pain pulsating through his injured shoulder and the coolness pushing through his skull, he worked on the manacles. It was awkward, though, using one hand, and he couldn’t get them unlocked.

“You look very pale,” Paveeth noted, his voice more of the lyrical sing-song that Shannon had heard earlier. “I think you have lost a great deal of blood. Why don’t you sit and I will unchain her for you.”

Shannon transferred the gun to his left hand and waved it at Paveeth. “Get over here and take these off her.”

Paveeth moved like a ghost in his yellow robe as he glided from his chair to the table. Shannon handed him the key, took several steps back to watch as Paveeth removed the manacles. Standing there, he fought to keep his mind clear and to keep the room from spinning any further. Pain from his shoulder radiated down his arm. It pulsated through his wrist, his hand, even in his missing fingers. With his gun hand he touched his side, feeling the stickiness and dampness of his shirt. He knew if he looked down he’d see that it was drenched in blood. He didn’t want to look down…

He stumbled.

Paveeth charged him then, striking him in his wounded shoulder. The pain exploded, blinding him, sucking the breath out of his lungs. He staggered while Paveeth clawed at his face with one hand and fought for the gun with his other. Shannon recovered enough to sweep his right leg around Paveeth and knock the cult leader off his feet. Paveeth fell to the floor, Shannon falling with him and landing hard on the cult leader’s chest. Paveeth was still grabbing for his gun hand. Shannon lifted his right arm as much as his injured shoulder allowed and punched Paveeth in the face. He did it again and again, each time only being able to lift his hand a few inches above the cult leader’s face before striking down.

Paveeth let out a whimper and quit his struggling. Shannon didn’t notice. As he stared at the cult leader’s face, the image dissolved into a sea of redness. He felt nothing but numbness as he lifted his fist the several inches his shoulder allowed and slammed it into Paveeth’s face over and over again. Then someone was pulling him off, and through the red haze he could see Maguire, his friend’s eyes like silver dollars as he took in the room.

“Jesus, Bill, you’re going to kill the dude,” Maguire was saying.

Shannon felt very cold then. So cold. He let himself be pulled off. Then he lay down. Consciousness flickered off and on. He was aware of being loaded onto a stretcher. Then nothing but blackness until he opened his eyes and saw Daniels staring at him with concern.

“How’s Susan?” he asked.

“She’s going to be okay.” Daniels tongue flicked out and licked his lips. “That. 38 snub nose… Wake up, Bill, goddamit, open your eyes! That. 38, you got it off one of the cult members here, right? Just nod your head, okay?”

Shannon nodded. The room tilted sideways and he fell into a deep blackness again.

When he opened his eyes, he felt groggy and his shoulder throbbed as if nails had been hammered into it. After a dazed moment, he realized he was in a hospital bed. His shoulder was heavily bandaged, so was his right hand, the one he ripped open on the fence. As he became more aware, he felt a small hand holding his undamaged hand. He moved his head to the side and saw Susan, her eyes and nose both red. She broke into a big lopsided smile. Then the dam burst open and tears streamed down her cheeks as she laughed and cried at the same time.

“Bill, I’ve been so worried about you.”

Shannon tried to ask her if she was okay, but his throat was too dry and his voice came out as a hoarse whisper. Susan fought back her tears and held up a glass of water. Shannon drank a little of it through a straw. He tried again, asking her how she was.

“I’m okay, Bill. They didn’t hurt me.”

“All I could think when I saw you tied up like that…”

“I know, hon. Please, don’t think about it. I’m fine, I really am.” She tried smiling. “Guess who came by and donated blood for you?”

Shannon didn’t say anything, his mind still too fuzzy to think clearly and guess the obvious.

“Eli. You have two pints of his blood in you now.”

“Shit. I’ve got blood from a Yankee fan coursing through me? Damn, he’ll try anything to bring me over to the dark side. He didn’t get me a Derek Jeter tattoo while I was out?”

Susan choked up as she shook her head, her eyes filling up with tears. The emotion was too much for her, and she started weeping again. Shannon watched helplessly, wanting to do something to comfort her.

“You lost so much blood, hon,” she said when she could, showing him the saddest clown smile he’d ever seen. “The doctors told me most people wouldn’t have made it, but you fought hard and you’re going to be okay. But I came so close to losing you.”

“You’re not going to lose me. Darling, you’re lucky, but not that lucky.” He winced. It felt like more nails were being hammered into his body. “My shoulder…”

“I know. It hurts. They had to reconstruct it. But they told me it should be as good as new someday. If you need to, you can press that button for more morphine.”

Shannon saw the button Susan was pointing out. He pressed it several times.

“What about Anil Paveeth -”

“They arrested him.” She brought his undamaged hand to her mouth and brushed her lips softly against it. “Let’s not talk anymore. Just close your eyes and rest for now.”

Shannon did as she asked. He felt Susan slide into the hospital bed next to him and drape his good arm around her while nestling her head against his shoulder. Her face was so wet with tears that it got his hospital gown wet, but he didn’t mind. Even with his wounded shoulder throbbing away, he felt at peace. With the morphine kicking in, he drifted off into something warm.

At some point he became aware again of the dull throbbing ache in his shoulder, and when he opened his eyes Susan was gone. He glanced sideways and saw Daniels standing to the side of him with his arms folded and his face set in a morose frown. When he noticed Shannon’s eyes had opened, he pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down.

“Where’s Susan?” Shannon asked.

“She’s giving me a few minutes so we can talk privately.” Daniels forced a smile. “What a day yesterday, huh?”

“Yeah, what a day.” Shannon reached up and found the button controlling his morphine flow and pushed it several times. “What happened to the great almighty Vishna?”

Daniels smile turned hard. “He doesn’t look all that almighty now. You did a good job revealing what was behind the curtain, and an even better job bruising that sonofabitch up. I think you even knocked him out for a few minutes. If your shoulder hadn’t been shot up you would’ve killed him.”

“But you arrested him?”

“We will. Right now we’re holding him, and he’s giving the impression of cooperating with us. Your friend, Mike Maguire, told us about the porn films you found. That sex shop has been shut down and all the DVDs confiscated. The Feds are involved now.”

“Paveeth admitted to making those porn films with Carver and Linda Gibson?”

“Yeah, he has, but he’s denying any knowledge of their murders. Maybe when you get out you can sit in on some of the questioning.” Daniels lowered his voice, edged closer to Shannon. “He’s claiming he had nothing to do with that dungeon-that those Russians took over once Carver and Gibson were killed and started making their own films without his knowledge.”

“That’s bullshit. What did he think that dungeon was for?”

“Discipline.” Daniels shrugged in response to the look Shannon gave him. “His word, not mine.”

“Yeah, right, he was shooting the video when I went down there.”

“I know. I saw the video and it clearly shows that you acted in self-defense. No charges are going to be brought against you.”

“Thanks. What do you know about the Russians?”

“According to Paveeth, Carver brought them in to distribute their films. Supposedly they used the opportunity of Carver being killed to take a more active role in the operations. To hear Paveeth tell it, he was a virtual prisoner to them.”

“Any idea yet who they are?”

Daniels shook his head. “I’ve got a feeling the Feds do, but they’re not saying anything. My gut’s telling me that they’re part of some nasty international porn ring.” He paused, rubbing a thick hand across his jaw. “Bill, we found other videos they made. As sick as you can possibly imagine. These bastards were making rape and torture videos. In three of them they killed the girls. Those videos are enough to get Paveeth a lethal injection, but we’re keeping quiet about that for now. He’s trying hard to sell those two dead Russians down the river and pin the whole works on them and we’re letting him think we’re buying it, see if we can get more out of him about Carver and Gibson.”

A dull throbbing started behind Shannon’s eyes knowing what they had in mind for Susan. He asked whether one of the women killed was a redhead who could’ve looked like a young Meg Ryan.

Daniels thought about it and nodded grimly.

“She had tried to leave the cult,” Shannon said. “She complained to someone I know that Paveeth was a false prophet. I guess they found her. What about the other cult members?”

“A few of them scattered, including Alvin Guthrop. We’re looking for him now. Duane Sweenski’s here in the hospital. They’re trying to see how much of his face they can save. We’re going to be charging him with whatever we can when he gets out. We’re holding the women we picked up as material witnesses. Most of them are in pretty rough shape and being held here in the psych ward. I’ve talked to the DA and we’re going to consider them victims, regardless of where they were in the hierarchy.”

“What about Melissa Cousins?”

“She was one of them who was pretty messed up. She’s here now, but we’re letting her mother transfer her to a hospital back in Portland.”

“What’s been in the news so far?”

“We’ve caught a break on that. Thanks to that compound being so remote and True Light having stayed under the media’s radar we’ve been able to keep this quiet. We’ll be giving a press conference in the next few days after we’ve sorted everything out. You can get as much credit as you want or we can leave you out of it. Your choice.”

“Did you talk to Mike?”

“Yeah, I did. He doesn’t want any attention.”

“Neither do I. There’s a guy in Denver named John Rude. Credit him with giving you a key tip that led to you uncovering the porn ring.”

“Any truth to that?”

“Yeah, he helped me out. The guy’s dying of cancer, and for whatever reason, it’s important to him to get his name in the papers.”

The morphine had kicked in. Shannon let his eyes close. Daniels was saying something but his voice had become a soft drone. Before drifting off he realized what the police lieutenant was asking him. He wanted to know how he knew something was hidden in the speakers. He tried telling Daniels that Linda told him about it, but he realized that his lips weren’t moving. Then everything seemed to fade away.

It was hours later when he woke up again. Susan was with him. The surgeon who performed his shoulder reconstruction came in and explained to him what had been done. The doctor thought the surgery went as well as they could’ve hoped for, but they wouldn’t know how much strength and range of motion Shannon would get back until after nine to twelve months of physical therapy. Shannon drifted off again after that, holding Susan’s hand.

That evening Eli stopped by for a visit. His long face was more somber than usual and showed deep lines of worry along his forehead and around his eyes. They mostly made small talk, Eli trying to get his long body comfortable in one of the hospital chairs while Susan joined them, sitting next to Shannon on the bed while holding on to his hand as if for dear life. Shannon got a genuine smile out of Eli when he finally told him what the clue mit vergnugen meant.

“I told you that was more than a lucid dream,” Eli said.

“I’m beginning to think you’re right.”

“So why’d the idea of that upset you so much before?”

Shannon shrugged as much as his wounded shoulder allowed. “I think it was because when I finally had the opportunity to look for my mom and my old partner, Joe DiGrazia, I blew it. I couldn’t see past my case to what was really important to me.”

“Bill, you’ll have other opportunities. If you did it once you’ll be able to do it again.”

Shannon nodded halfheartedly. He felt Susan squeeze his hand harder. She changed the subject, asking Eli for ideas about where they could go on vacation once Shannon’s shoulder healed.

“Now that he’s got two pints of my blood in him, don’t be surprised if Bill wants to make a pilgrimage to Yankee stadium,” Eli said with a wry grin. “I’d also expect him to give up his vegetarian life style and start ordering pastrami on rye.”

“Vai is mir,” Shannon said.

Eli’s grin sharpened. “Where’d you pick up Yiddish?”

“No idea. Must be those two pints of your blood running through me.”

Eli hung around until Shannon’s eyelids started to droop, then he let himself be chased out by Susan but not before threatening to return the next day. The hospital had brought a cot into the room for Susan, but instead of using it she balanced herself on the edge of Shannon’s hospital bed, and with her arms and legs draped across him, settled in for the night. With Shannon it was more like a light switch being turned off. One moment he was barely conscious of Susan’s soft breath against his face, then nothing until the next morning when the nurse woke him to change the dressing on his shoulder. Susan’s face crumpled a bit when she saw what his shoulder looked like under all the bandaging, but she forced a brave smile for his sake.

Monday was a better day for him. He felt more alert, and while he had a persistent, dull throbbing ache in his shoulder, he didn’t have to resort to pumping in as much extra morphine as the other day. Keeping to his word, Eli returned later that morning bringing a wheatgrass-mint-pineapple juice for his friend. Susan left them to run some errands, and Shannon gave Eli the full story about what happened at True Light. As Eli listened, his long face grew ashen and an intense sadness overwhelmed his eyes. “What you and Susan have gone through, first with Winters, and now this. What a horror show. But it’s because of you that True Light has been shut down. All those girls who’ve been victimized there now have a chance. You did a lot of good but at some point you need to find peace for yourself.”

Shannon tried smiling. “Yeah, well, I’m going to have nine to twelve months where I’ll have no choice but to do just that.”

“You need more time than that, Bill. You’ve already suffered through enough violence for several lifetimes. I’m hoping you finally give up this PI work.”

“We’ll see,” Shannon said. “The damn thing might just be in my blood, though.”

“If that’s the case, then you should have no problem. Most of whatever blood you had you left behind at that fercockta cult.”

After Eli left, Maguire stopped by for a visit. His round face flushed a deep red as he recounted how he had rolled Shannon’s car to the gate so he could use it to boost himself over the iron fence surrounding True Light, then turned even redder when he talked about what he saw once he got inside the compound. “None of this has been in the news yet,” he told Shannon. “It’s like nobody fucking knows about it except us.” He hung around a little while longer, mostly talking about how good a team they made and how it would be a waste if the two of them didn’t go into business together when Shannon was up and around. He had brought several of his prized PI books with him and left them with Shannon. These included Hammett’s Red Harvest and two more recent books that he claimed were fucking amazing and brought the PI novel up to a whole new level: The Guards by Ken Bruen and The Long-Legged Fly by James Sallis. Shannon told Maguire he’d read them and get back to him with his thoughts.

When Susan came back she had a package for Shannon from the university. Inside was Taylor Carver’s thesis. Shannon spent the afternoon reading it. The thesis was written as a fictional novel with an English Masters major named Culver as the protagonist. The “hero” hooks up with a beautiful but screwed-up freshman who was sexually abused by her father for years. Culver later befriends an out-of-work Indian chemical engineer. Over beers they cook up a scheme to have this chemical engineer start a cult which they’ll fund by making ‘voyeur’ porn films using the cult’s brainwashed members and Culver’s girlfriend, who Culver is able to manipulate by playing to her low self-esteem and her pathological need to degrade herself. In this fictional account, they end up opening hundreds of yoga studios in shopping centers around the country to fund the cult’s operations and line their own pockets, at which point Culver publishes a book detailing all this, making a mockery of suburban America and its bourgeoisie culture. The tone of the book was cruel and smarmy, and gave Shannon a good impression of what Carver was all about-a heartless sonofabitch who got off on showing the world how superior he was to everyone else. It also confirmed his thoughts about Linda Gibson. She had no chance in life, not after the way her parents abused her both sexually and emotionally. It left her too vulnerable to a predator like Carver. When he was done reading the thesis he had the urge to load himself up with more morphine, but resisted it. He knew if Paveeth had gotten his hands on Carver’s thesis, he’d have a good motive for wanting Carver dead. It could very well explain why Carver and Gibson were butchered the way they were.

That evening Eli came by for another visit, and later Emily stopped by. Her head was bandaged up, and she stood hands on hips, shaking her head sadly at Shannon.

“A couple of geniuses we are,” she said. “Let ourselves be banged up and shot at by a couple of dumb thugs.”

Shannon couldn’t disagree with her. That night he had the nurse disconnect his morphine drip. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she tried telling him. “It’s too early for this.” Shannon told her he wanted to wean himself off of it sooner rather than later. He had a mostly restless night, but was able to doze off for several hours.

Pauline Cousins called him on his cell phone the next morning. She seemed genuinely surprised to hear that he was in the hospital. “Nobody I’ve been talking to at the Boulder Police mentioned a word to me about it,” she said. “I would’ve called you sooner but I’ve been running around like crazy the last two days trying to arrange for Melissa’s transfer.”

She stopped by shortly after her call, her face melting into a sad smile when she saw Shannon bandaged up. “I owe you so much for what you did for Melissa,” she told him. She took out her checkbook and asked how much he wanted. Shannon shook his head, told her that one of the perks of working for himself was being able to take on certain cases pro bono. “Besides, what happened at True Light intersected with another case which I’m being well paid for.” Pauline stood her ground, insisting that she pay him something, and Shannon suggested she could contribute to a fund for families of police officers killed in the line of duty that he’d set up in Joe DiGrazia’s memory. Without blinking an eye she wrote out a check for ten thousand dollars. On her way out she kissed Shannon on the cheek and told Susan that she had a good man.

“Don’t I know it,” Susan said.

After she left, Shannon realized he owed Devens a call. The lawyer seemed surprised to hear what Shannon was telling him. “There’s been nothing in the news about it,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Better than okay,” Shannon said, laughing sourly. “Already been pumped up with a fresh supply of blood and should be getting a new shoulder out of the deal.”

Devens’ voice sounded strained as he told Shannon he’d stop by at the hospital and talk further with him. “But that’s it, huh?” he asked. “The police are going to arrest this cult leader for the Carver-Gibson murders?”

“That’s what it sounds like.”

When he got off the phone, he lay brooding. Susan sensed his uneasiness. She kissed him hard on the mouth and told him she’d be back soon. While he waited Devens came by. The lawyer grimaced seeing him. “Christ, you look like hell,” he said, shaking hands with Shannon’s left undamaged one.

“Hearing compliments like that does wonders for one spirits.”

“I’m sure it does.” Devens pulled up a chair. “I talked with my assistant DA friend. They’re planning to give a press conference Friday night to fill in the media on what’s been going on at that cult. They’re going to leave Carver and Gibson out of it for the time being. As long as this Anil Paveeth is cooperating with them they want to give the illusion of not trying to tie him to the murders, but they do plan on charging him soon. This should put a stake in the heart of that lawsuit.” Devens took his wallet out and handed Shannon a check. It was for twenty-five thousand dollars. “I’ve explained the situation to my client and everything that you’ve done. He wants to pay you this as a bonus. This suit could’ve wiped him out, and anyway, the twenty-five grand was what he was expecting to pay in legal costs if this went to trial. At least it should help while you’re rehabbing.” Devens took a small gift-wrapped box out of his briefcase and left it on the table next to the bed. “A small gesture from me.”

The lawyer left. Shannon couldn’t help feeling a sense of uneasiness, as if something wasn’t quite right. He looked at the gift-wrapped box Devens had left behind. Even something as simple as opening that box was beyond his current capabilities, but he knew that wasn’t what was behind his uneasiness. He wasn’t feeling sorry for himself. There was something else nagging at him. Something that didn’t quite fit with this Carver-Gibson-Paveeth puzzle.

Susan came back a short time later with a big grin across her face. Accompanying her was Eddie with his chess set. Eddie gave him a quick look up and down and asked what happened to his shoulder.

“I got shot.”

“By that cult you were asking about?”

“Yeah.”

“You on painkillers now?”

“Nope, off of them.”

“Good, you got no excuses then if you lose.”

They played five games with Shannon winning the first four, and the fifth ending in a draw. Eddie was beaming after the fifth game, taking the draw as a moral victory. After the games, Shannon told Eddie that the girl he’d been looking for was probably dead. “I’ll get a picture and see if you can ID her, but I think they caught up to her.” Eddie’s face darkened as he took in the news. “Boulder’s not the same town it used to be,” he said.

After Eddie left, Susan unwrapped the box Devens had left behind. It was one of his Navajo storytellers. Shannon couldn’t get over the feeling that the clay figurine was trying to tell him something.

Wednesday morning Shannon decided it was time to leave the hospital. Susan tried arguing with him that three days was too soon. “Hon, they want you here three weeks!”

Shannon was insistent, though-partly because of his uneasiness, but mostly because he didn’t want Susan cooped up in that hospital room any longer, and she wasn’t going to leave as long as he was there. One of the doctors tried to persuade him to stay longer, saw it was useless and instead worked out an arrangement for Shannon to come in each day to have his shoulder examined and his dressing changed. The doctor wrote him a prescription for Oxycontin, which Shannon tossed into the garbage on his way out.