A few weeks had passed. Karissa and Lewis had both gone back to work. They moved back into their house, and life just continued.
One night, Karissa woke to a panic attack, and Lewis talked her down.
He told her, “Whenever things are looking south, you got to find a way to keep going north.” That saying stuck with the couple. When they told their therapist, Dr. Merlin stated that the saying should become a part of them. “Keep going north.”
They would text each other at work to keep communication constant. Lewis was fulfilling his promise, his promise to keep Karissa going. Her mind had collapsed, and piece by piece, Lewis had to help rebuild it.
The city of Portland had put together a funeral for the police officers who were killed during the attack on Fremont Bridge. Andrew Bolton had spent the past few weeks in front of cameras and reporters. While Lewis’ job was to help Karissa recover, Bolton had to worry about the whole city. Lewis had not talked to Detective Bolton since that night, but he had been busy.
As the days went on, Lewis kept thinking about his need for answers. And that itch in his brain got so persistent that it would wake him up at night. He would lie awake for hours, thinking about the tall man.
Where did he come from? What was his goal? Was he going to kill them that night? While going through these questions in his head, Lewis would get angry that he hadn’t been the one to put the tall man down. He never brought up that feeling or the itch in his brain to anyone, not even Karissa, but he knew it was a problem and that it would continue.
*
A few days later, the Nelsons went over to the Garcias’ home for dinner. It was a very nice home that sat on a hill with a nice view of Mount Hood. Both Lewis and Karissa were dressed nicely, and they’d brought a bottle of wine. As they pulled into the driveway, they noticed construction equipment outside of the garage.
Lewis remembered his wife telling him that the Garcias were adding onto their home—a new bedroom or something, he didn’t remember that part. Although they were friends with the Garcias, the Nelsons weren’t really into that whole fancy lifestyle. In fact, they never cared about tons of money, fancy clothes, or a big house. They never tried to prove anything to anyone. All that mattered to the Nelsons was to live together in happiness.
That was obviously not the case with the Garcias. Lisa, Jack’s wife, was definitely the type of person who’d attend a ball or fundraiser every night of the week. And, although she was Karissa’s best friend, she would drone on about the newest dresses or gossip about the city council, all things Karissa couldn’t care less about.
Jack was Lewis’ friend for sure, but they never really connected with each other on anything except sports. Oftentimes, Jack would let the power of his job go to his head. He had the kind of personality where he’d lift his head up high and talk down to employees, or even people at the grocery store.
There were a few instances where Lewis tried to tell Jack to knock it off, but Jack was Lewis’ boss, so he had to play nice the majority of the time. Jack did, however, know how hard it had been for the Nelsons the past few weeks, so when he and his wife walked out and greeted them, it was all smiles and small talk.
The Garcias led the Nelsons into their home and began talking about the new addition on their house. After a few moments of chitchat about that, Karissa went into the kitchen to help Lisa finish up dinner, while the men went to grab a few beers from the fridge in the garage.
The conversations continued until dinner was ready, then they all proceeded to the dining room table and engaged in good food and laughter.
After everybody’s bellies were full with the chicken and vegetables Lisa had prepared, it got a little quiet. Jack and Lewis were sitting in the living room, drinking their beer and watching the nightly football game, while Karissa and Lisa were in the kitchen, drinking wine and talking about each other’s jobs.
At halftime, Jack got up and asked, “Want another beer, Lewis?”
Lewis casually replied, “Yeah, sure.”
Jack walked to the kitchen while Lisa led Karissa up the stairs to show her where the new addition would be. Jack nonchalantly made sure the girls had made it up the stairs before returning to his seat. Jack handed Lewis his drink, to which he replied, “Thank you.”
The sun had gone down now, and the sky was black and dark blue, with a small brushstroke of orange and purple directly above the horizon.
Jack looked around one more time and leaned into Lewis. He quietly said, “Hey, man.” He stumbled a bit. “What—uh, how is Karissa doing? She holding up okay?”
Lewis could tell Jack wasn’t comfortable asking the question. He sighed and said, “Yeah, I think so.” His eyes were still glued to the halftime report. “She’s getting through it.”
“Well, if you guys need anything, you know we’ll always be here for you,” Jack said sincerely.
“Yeah, we really appreciate it, man. Really. Honestly,” Lewis said while readjusting in his seat. “Socializing really seems to be helping her. I’ve been trying to keep her busy, you know? If she is just sitting on the couch at home, she’ll have random anxiety attacks, but when we’re out doing something, you know, dinner or hiking—hell, even just going for a drive, it helps clear her head.”
Jack pressed his lips to the tip of his brown beer bottle and took a sip. “That’s great, man,” he said. “You know, Lisa has to go up to her parents’ this weekend in Spokane; want me to see if Karissa can go?”
Lewis took a minute to think about it, then replied, “Yeah, I don’t see why not. That might be nice to have some girl time.”
At that moment, the girls began to walk down the stairs, both laughing about something. The game returned from its halftime break, and the two men’s eyes instantly darted to the screen. They tapped their bottles together.
*
After a week of work and therapy, the Nelsons were getting ready for Karissa’s trip to Spokane. Lewis had a talk with their therapist, Dr. Merlin, to make sure Karissa was in the right state of mind for a trip. Dr. Merlin said as long as the communication keeps up and Karissa stays on top of her meds, she should be fine.
Lewis felt comfortable leaving his wife in the hands of Lisa Garcia and her parents, who lived in a very nice home on a lake near Spokane, Washington. It was going to be very peaceful, which was exactly what Lewis was hoping for.
While Karissa was spending her time packing and getting ready for the trip, Lewis continued with classes. He had a bigger plan set in place. Without Karissa there for the next three days, Lewis knew it was his chance to get to the bottom of what really went down at their home all those weeks ago.
Why had the tall man been at their house? Why did he not kill them? With Karissa around and her mind being as fragile as it was, he knew that this could be the only opportunity he would get.
They got the car all packed, and Lewis dropped Karissa off at the Garcias’ house at around 9:00 a.m. on Friday morning. Jack was taking them to the airport, as Lewis had to make his 10:00 a.m. class. The girls wouldn’t be back until Monday afternoon, which Lewis felt was a good thing.
He helped get his wife’s suitcase out of his car, and then proceeded to put it in the back of Jack’s. Before Karissa jumped into the Mercedes-Benz, Lewis pulled her aside.
“Hey, K. I just want to make sure, again, that you’re okay with this.”
She stared into his eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him passionately on the lips and said, “I love you,” which answered his question.
She hopped in the back of the car and watched Jack and Lewis shake hands. Both men proceeded to get in their vehicles. Jack started his car and drove away as Lewis watched from the driver’s seat of his Prius. His wife blew him a kiss, and he gave her a smile and a wave. Then he started up his windshield wipers and drove off.
*
At the University, Lewis parked in his reserved space. He sat there for a minute, as there was thirteen minutes before class started. He grabbed his bag and looked at the entrance of the psychology building. Students were flooding in. He recognized some of them, and they were no doubt heading to his class.
An itch arose at the stem of his spinal cord, where it met his skull.
“Damnit,” he said while he threw his bag in the passenger seat and put his car in reverse. He peeled out of the parking lot and headed downtown, driving about fifteen miles over the speed limit. Sweat began to drip off his forehead.
He finally made his stop at the Portland Police Department. He got out of the car and frantically walked through the front doors. Lewis approached the officer at the counter and spoke quickly and loudly.
“I need to speak to Detective Bolton!”
The officer stared at him, unimpressed. “And what’s your name?”
“Right now!” Lewis screamed.
The officer’s eyes shot wide open, and he raised his hands, as if to calm Lewis down. “Okay, okay, give me a minute.” The officer grabbed the phone next to him and dialed. “Someone’s here to see Bolton.”
Lewis heard chatter on the other end of the line. The officer said, “I don’t know,” then looked up at Lewis. “What’s your name, kid?”
Lewis was caught off guard when the officer called him “kid”—the officer seemed only a few years older than he was.
However, when the officer called him “kid,” the itch fizzled out, and Lewis began to calm down. He looked around as if he was confused by everything. It was surprising the officer didn’t arrest him right there, as it looked like Lewis was on some sort of drug.
“Uh…Lewis, Lewis Nelson…sir.”
The officer repeated the name into the phone. After he hung up, he told Lewis to sit down and someone would be with him soon.
The professor looked over at a small red chair in the corner of the station and went to sit. Before he could even touch his bottom to the chair, Bolton swung open the glass door behind the front desk.
“Mr. Nelson!” he said with a big smile.
Lewis greeted him back, and Bolton invited him to the back room. They headed to a small room that had a temporary nameplate on the door that read, “A. Bolton.” The detective opened the door and asked Lewis to sit down. Then he walked behind his desk to his comfortable-looking black office chair. “So, what can I do you for?” asked Bolton.
Lewis took a moment to respond as he looked around the office. He noticed Bolton had framed pictures of people who were most likely his wife and two daughters.
“Nice office you got,” Lewis said, still looking around.
“Oh, yeah, well, they gave me a temporary workspace until this case closes,” Bolton replied.
“Is that your family?” Lewis asked, gesturing toward the pictures of the woman and two little girls.
“Yeah,” Bolton said, adjusting in his seat. “My wife Donna and my two little ones, Jackie and Ruth. They’re back home in Tennessee.”
Lewis was obviously caught off guard by that. “Tennessee? Why’re you working a case so far out west?”
“Well, I was stationed in Nashville but one night I got a call about this case in Portland, said I was specifically asked for.”
“Huh,” Lewis said. “Well, I’m not going to take any more of your time. I came in because, well, I need answers. I want to know why that man was at my house.”
Bolton looked at the coffee mug that was sitting on his desk, then made eye contact with Lewis. “Well, Mr. Nelson—”
Lewis cut him off. “Lewis, please. I get called Mr. Nelson enough.”
Bolton cleared his throat. “Right, Lewis. So I understand where you’re coming from. I want to know too. That’s why I’m still here and not back in Nashville.”
“Right,” Lewis said, understanding. “Well, can you tell me anything? Is there some kind of connection with me or Karissa? Or did I really lead him to my home from the night before?”
“Honestly, we don’t know yet,” said Bolton calmly. “The only thing I can tell you is that there were multiple sightings of this guy around the neighborhood, some dating back to a year ago. Every time it was called in, none of the guys here found anything. They started to think it was a joke or a hoax or something. Especially because nothing came of it. Nobody was harmed or went missing or anything of the sort.”
“So, Detective Bolton—”
This time, the detective cut him off and gave a smirk. “Andrew.”
“Andrew…” Lewis paused for a moment. “Nah, I’m going to stick with Bolton.” The detective looked at him with a smile. “What do you, personally, think is going on?”
“Well, like I said, this guy was probably creeping around down in that neighborhood there for the past year. He was probably living in one of those abandoned buildings. There’s some construction going on, and maybe it pissed him off, so he went out one night and took it out on someone. Maybe he liked doing it so much that he saw you there and, well, followed you back.”
“You actually believe that? You saw his face too, right? That face traumatized my wife. I only got a glimpse, but I saw him well enough to know he was not human.”
Bolton looked down at his mug again. “I will be honest; I’ve never seen anything like that before in my entire life. And you’re right, he didn’t seem human at all.” He looked up from his mug and back at Lewis. “However, he’s dead now, and I just have to check out a few more things before I close the case.”
“So, you honestly think that was it? He’s dead, end of story?”
Bolton replied, “Well, I’m going to check in with the coroner and see if I can learn anything more, but the police commissioner wants this whole thing to be over with. He lost good men, and he believes the best thing they can do is move on. I obviously have to check out a few more leads, but that seems to be the end of it. Especially ’cause the guy’s dead.”
“So, you don’t think there is a bigger story here? Nothing seems off about this at all? Plus, who the hell was he? You haven’t even given us a name yet.”
“Honestly, Lewis, we don’t know.”
Lewis looked at Bolton with confusion, as well as some rage. “Wait, you guys still haven’t identified him?”
“We can’t,” Bolton said, scratching his head. “Every test we’ve run has literally come back with nothing. This guy is nonexistent.”
Lewis stood up from his chair. “Well, obviously the guy exists, and I want to know who the hell he his! How does this make any sense, Bolton?”
“Look, Lewis, I’m with you here,” Bolton said, lowering his voice. “But even if I thought something was off, the bureau won’t listen unless the rest of the police department backs my story up. Meaning I would have to find something compelling that would keep the case open, and I’m just not finding anything. There’s no evidence of anything more.”
Lewis began to shout. “Don’t have the evidence yet?! How about my wife being traumatized?! She won’t ever be the same again, do you understand that? How about the bastard killing my dog? How about the two officers who died on that bridge?! You were there, Bolton! You saw him! There’s evidence all over the place!”
Bolton tried to calm him, but it was too late. Lewis turned around and walked out of Bolton’s office, slamming the door behind him.
“Damnit,” he mumbled under his breath. He was upset for sure, because deep down he knew something was off. He shook his head and began to replay everything in his mind. His eyes panned around the room until they met the photo of his family that was facing him on his desk. He proceeded to pull out his cell phone and call his wife.
Bolton felt instant relaxation when his wife said, “Hey, honey!”
He started glowing. “Hey, baby, how are you? How are the girls?”
“They’re good. I just picked Jackie up from school for her dentist appointment. And the Johnsons invited the girls and I over for dinner tonight, so we might go and do that later.”
“Oh, that’ll be fun,” Bolton said while adjusting his watch.
“How’s everything going there?” Donna asked pleasantly.
“It’s…uh…” Bolton looked at a group of police officers that had just entered the building. They were all laughing at one another. Bolton refocused. “It’s crazy. The department wants us to close the case, but there’s a part of me that feels like I can do something more.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Well, the bureau asked me to stay a few weeks to make sure this thing is closed completely. There are a few things that I still have to look into, but nothing major.”
“Be careful, Andy,” Donna said, sounding very concerned.
“When am I not careful?” Bolton said, chuckling.
“I’m serious,” Donna said. “The girls and I, we need you.”
“Baby,” Bolton said, understanding her concern. “I promise I’m coming home soon, okay?”
They said their goodbyes as Bolton hung up the phone. He sat there and thought about what Lewis said. He reached into his drawer and pulled out a manila folder. Inside were the photos of the crime scene. One photo showed one of the dead officers with his jaw lying two feet away from his body. He was lying in a pool of blood.
Another picture showed the other officer lying on his back. There was nothing between his upper torso and his waist except his innards. The next photo made chills roll down Bolton’s spine to the point where he shook like he was cold. It was a close-up of the tall man’s face. He still didn’t know the man’s name or where he came from. He was a ghost and a complete mystery.
However, that face. It would haunt Bolton forever, and he cringed as he examined it. In the photo, the man’s eyes were wide open. Well, he didn’t have eyelids. One side of his cheek and jaw was a mangled mess from were Bolton shot and killed him. The other side was still cut into a permanent smile.
Bolton then looked at the drawing they’d showed on the news. He knew that the department couldn’t allow a face like that to be shown on TV, so the commissioner of the Portland Police Department, John Byrd, had them draw a face. They had to give the media something.
Bolton sent the photos to the FBI, and in response they had told him to wait and make sure everything was one hundred percent wrapped up. He knew why Lewis was so angry though. Commissioner Byrd’s response to the whole thing was to forget and move on. He believed that as long as the man was dead, it would be best for the city to just keep going forward.
A moment later, the phone rang. Bolton answered it quickly. It was the coroner.
*
Lewis was angry. Angrier than he had been in a long time. He drove back to his house, cursing every second. He got to his driveway and halted his car aggressively. Then he screamed and punched his steering wheel.
It felt good.
He did it again. He cursed loudly and punched again and again and again until he got it out of his system. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry. The man who had stalked his family and killed his dog was dead. Was it the fact that the police knew nothing? What was keeping him up at night? What was that annoying itch he felt at the base of his skull?
He looked down at his phone and saw he had three missed calls from Jack Garcia. There was a voicemail too. Lewis touched the screen and put the phone up to his ear. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as he looked at himself in the rearview mirror and noticed his face was a bright shade of red. He rolled his fingers through his hair as he listened to the voicemail.
“Lewis, I dropped off Karissa and Lisa and came back to sit in on your class, only to find that you didn’t show up. What’s going on, man?”
Lewis sighed and dropped his head. He continued to listen.
“You have to tell me if you’re going to miss class, okay? I have no problem with finding someone else to step in and help you out, but I need to know. Call me back.”
Lewis lowered the phone and clicked the button that locked the screen. He grabbed his bag from the seat next to him and swung it over his shoulder as he got out of the car. He felt the cold mist on his face, and he walked inside his house. It felt good. Cooling.
He threw his bag on the couch and looked around. The memories of that night flooded his head. He walked into his and Karissa’s bedroom and looked at his bedside window. And, although it was no longer there, he could still see the bloody handprint the tall man had left as he stalked them.
Watching.
Waiting.
For what?
Lewis scanned the room and noticed Apollo’s food bowl. It was ceramic and decorated with stars and planets. He remembered when Karissa had brought that home from a pottery class she took in college. She’d left it on the counter with a box of dog treats that she’d tied with a bow. Apollo was just a puppy then.
Lewis let out a sigh and closed his eyes. It was a happy memory. Unfortunately, it was followed by a sad realization.
He walked into the bathroom and undressed then proceeded to turn the shower on. More memories kept flooding his mind. He remembered meeting Karissa for the first time.
Lewis was never into drinking or partying, but he loved football. He knew the game inside and out, but he liked the strategy part more than the hitting. That’s why he never played.
But on one rainy night in Eugene, the Ducks were playing the Beavers in their classic rivalry game. His best friend at the time, Jacob, was holding a watch party for the game at his apartment. Chips and wings were laid out across the table, and all sorts of alcohol was sitting on the counter for people to enjoy.
About fifteen people made it to the apartment by the time the game started. Lewis was drinking an iced tea while everyone else was drinking alcohol. Halfway through the first quarter, they heard a knock at the door. Jacob yelled, “I’ll get it!” as he shot up from his seat and jumped to answer. He opened the door and greeted a small group of four girls. One of the girls hugged Jacob and introduced him to the other three.
Lewis’ eyes were still glued to the screen as Jacob walked over and said, “Hey, guys, this is Janelle, Kelsey, Audrey, and…” He leaned over and asked the smaller girl in the back, “What was your name? I’m sorry.”
She said it softly.
“Karissa,” Jacob said.
Lewis turned his head. He liked that name. When he saw her, it was like he got hit by a train. She had her shoulder-length brown hair in curls, and she was wearing big thick glasses. She was thin and wearing a denim jacket over a white T-shirt. She had on black leggings and white converse.
Their eyes met.
She could clearly see he was glowing at the sight of her, but she didn’t know what to do at first. She looked away but kept finding herself meeting his gaze. She blushed and gave him a smirk.
Jacob was introducing all of the people who were already at the party, and as he introduced Lewis, everybody said hi. However, Lewis replied, “Hi, everyone,” while keeping his eyes on Karissa.
Jacob invited everyone to eat, drink, and have fun watching the game. He made a little joke about how Ducks eat Beavers or something, but Lewis didn’t care.
He got up from the couch and walked over to Karissa, who was now in the kitchen with her friends, deciding what beer to drink. She looked up and saw him coming her way. Audrey saw it too and nudged Karissa’s arm and laughed.
“Hey, Karissa, right?” Lewis said with a big, charming smile.
“Yeah, you’re Lewis?” she asked while blushing.
“Lewis Nelson. At your service,” he said, thinking he was being classy by taking a small bow. He regretted that decision when Karissa’s friends started laughing.
She chuckled and asked, “So, you go to school here?”
“Yup, I’m mastering in psychology. I want to be a teacher. What about you?”
“Wow, a psychology teacher, huh? That’s pretty sexy,” she said laughing. “I’m majoring in journalism. I’m a senior.”
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Karissaaaa…” He drug out her name waiting for her to finish the sentence.
“Brown,” she said. “And you too, Mr. Nelson.” She smirked.
That lit a fire in Lewis he had never felt before.
“So, what’s good here?” Karissa asked while gesturing toward the alcohol.
Lewis looked down at his cup. “Uh…I actually don’t really know,” he said, chuckling nervously. She looked a little confused. He raised his cup. “Sweet tea,” he said, laughing.
Karissa’s friend group laughed again. But this time it wasn’t at Lewis, even though that’s what he thought. Janelle looked at Karissa and smiled at her.
“Do you have another tea?” Karissa asked, blushing. Lewis realized she didn’t really drink either. He gave her a big smile and said, “I sure do.”
They spent the rest of the night watching the game and laughing. When Karissa’s friends got too drunk toward the end of the fourth quarter, she told Lewis she had to take them home and look after them. He didn’t want the night to end.
She noticed and said, “I really want to see you again.”
His frown turned into a huge glowing smile. “Can I have your phone number?” he asked.
“Of course!” she said, smiling back.
As she left, Lewis watched her walk to her car with her three friends, all very drunk. She looked back at him and smiled. He smiled and waved as he watched her pull out of the parking lot.
“Holy shit,” he said happily.
Lewis stepped out of the shower with a big smile on his face. Remembering those times always made him happy. He remembered their wedding too. It was outside, and a storm came out of nowhere and flooded the whole thing.
He and Karissa just laughed even though they were both soaking wet. The more he thought about these memories, the happier he was. He grabbed his phone and texted Karissa.
I love you, K. Have a safe flight. Keep going north.
He looked at himself in the mirror. Then, out of nowhere, he felt an itch where his spine and skull met. The happiness turned into rage. Somebody had come to his house and traumatized the love of his life. He wanted to know why. He needed to know why.
“FUCK!” he screamed as he punched the mirror into shards of glass.
*
Bolton walked into a white room that was lit up by florescent lights. A man in a white jacket was sitting in front of a table with a body on it. Bolton noticed that the body’s feet were hanging off the table as he greeted the man.
“Mark,” he said while shaking the man’s hand. “I’m Detective Bolton with the FBI.”
“Nice to meet you Detective Bolton,” Mark said. “I’ve got something for you to see.” He gestured to the body on the table, then walked over to his desk, pulled out two blue latex gloves, and put them on.
“So, this is our guy, huh?” Bolton said, staring at the sheet that covered the body.
“Yes. So, it obviously took us a while to examine, but we’ve never had a person in here like this before.” Mark folded the sheet down to show the face.
“Jesus Christ,” Bolton said.
“Yeah, not very handsome, I can tell you that much. But look, his eyelids were burnt off. You can tell by the black soot around them. How this man could see at all is beyond me since the burning of the eyelids seems to have happened a long time ago. If we move down to the mouth, you can see it’s carved from the corner of his mouth back toward the molars. If we move further down, we can see some rotting here on the neck. But here’s the thing that I need to show you.” Mark folded the sheet down further to the waist where the man’s torso was showing.
“What the hell?” Bolton said slowly, his eyes widening. The tall man had large scars all around his body. There were three holes where the bullets from the police officers had entered on the bridge. But the thing that caught Bolton’s eye was a large scar in the shape of a spiral on the man’s chest. It was different than all of the other scars. This one hadn’t healed properly. It was red and bulging, as if the smallest cut into it would release a pool of blood.
“I didn’t want to disturb this by cutting through it until someone saw it,” Mark said to Bolton while he was examining the spiral. “Does this symbol mean anything to you?”
Bolton, refusing to take his eyes off of the spiral, said, “This thing might be deeper than we thought.”
*
“What do you mean? The case is closed, Bolton,” Commissioner Byrd said, “He was a crazy person—of course he could’ve just done this to himself.”
“No way,” Bolton said confidently. “Look at these pictures. There are scars all over his body. Mark said he could tell the spiral on his sternum was done by somebody else by how it healed and how perfect the shape was.”
“Bolton, I get that you are FBI, but you need to listen here. This case is closed, and that’s it. This guy was obviously unstable and—”
“You honestly think this case is closed? Are you kidding me? I didn’t buy that shit even before the autopsy. Lewis Nelson didn’t buy that shit, and he’s a goddamn teacher! Don’t be a fucking idiot—”
Byrd cut him off. “Hey! Look, you may be a fed, but this is still my department, you understand me? And this department is saying the case is closed.”
“I’m sure those officers who died on the bridge would say different. I’m calling this in.” Bolton looked at Byrd with anger and pulled out his phone as he stormed out of the office.
*
“Ask Nelson if he’s ever seen that spiral before. He might have a connection to it somehow,” said Agent Phil over the phone. He was one of Bolton’s close friends in the FBI.
“Look, I understand that if Byrd doesn’t keep the case going, you can’t send backup, and I have to go home. But can you send anything? Anybody?” Bolton asked.
“No. Bolton, you are going to have to do this alone. We’re keeping you there for just a couple more weeks so you can wrap this up. Boss wants you back soon.”
“Understood,” Bolton said while sighing.
“I’ll make a couple calls and see if anybody knows anything about that symbol. I’ll keep you updated,” Agent Phil said before hanging up.
Bolton shook his head in disappointment.
*
The sun was going down, and Lewis was watching TV. He was in the basement because he was not comfortable sleeping in his bedroom without Karissa there, and without Apollo, the whole house felt lonely.
He had wrapped his hand in a bandage to help stop the bleeding from when he punched the mirror, and he had a sweet tea in the other hand. The sound of heavy rain began to pound on his window.
He turned the TV up a little louder, but then he heard his phone rang. He figured it was Jack, who he still hadn’t called back. After it stopped ringing, it rang again. And again. Lewis grabbed the phone and cursed. Without looking at who it was, he turned it on silent and put the phone back down.
After about five minutes, there was a knock on the front door.
“Damn it.”
He paused the TV and grunted as he got up. He walked to the door and opened it. There stood Detective Andrew Bolton, wearing a black trench coat and holding a briefcase.
“Lewis, can we talk?”
“Yeah, come on in.” Lewis sighed while opening the door wider, allowing Bolton to enter.
“There’s something I want to show you,” Bolton said while following Lewis through the house. “Mrs. Nelson home?”
“No, she’s in Spokane with a friend,” Lewis said as he walked to the fridge and pointed at the dinner table to silently tell Bolton to sit down. “I have beer, tea, milk, and orange juice.”
Bolton looked at Lewis’ hand and said, “Uh…I’ll have a beer, thanks.”
Lewis mumbled to himself, “Beer it is.” He grabbed two bottles and walked to the table. He handed one to Bolton.
“You got a bottle opener, Lewis?” Bolton asked politely.
“It’s a twist off,” Lewis said, annoyed. He didn’t care for Detective Bolton at the moment because of what happened earlier that day, and he wanted Bolton to know it.
“What happened to your hand? If you don’t mind me asking,” Bolton said.
“I actually do mind, thank you,” Lewis said with a fake smile. “Why are you here, Bolton?”
“I spoke with the coroner today. I need to ask you a few things.” Bolton took something out of his briefcase. “The man is still unidentifiable. However, there is one thing that we discovered on his torso. Can you take a look at this symbol and tell me if it means anything to you?”
Bolton slid the photo of the spiral carved into the tall man’s chest across the table. Lewis’ face cringed as he examined it.
“What the hell is this?” Lewis asked with his eyes still glued to the photo.
Bolton cleared his throat. “Well, we are unaware of any kind of relation to that symbol. The red, bulging scars that make it up are strange. It’s precise. I believe—”
Lewis cut him off. “Somebody else did it to him.”
“Exactly,” Bolton said smirking.
“Well, symbols like these can be used in cults and things of that nature. I mean, that’s where my mind goes when I look at this.”
Bolton cut in. “That’s what I was thinking.”
Lewis continued, “Usually, when we see symbols used by cultists they are demonic symbols like pentagrams, or even hieroglyphics from Egyptian mythology. I’ve never seen anything like this before. I mean, it obviously isn’t any kind of cult I’ve ever heard of before.”
“And unfortunately,” Bolton said, “it seems to be a violent cult.”
“No shit,” Lewis said, looking at Bolton. All the irritation and annoyance Lewis had felt simply faded. He knew he was right. There was something more to this story, and that’s all that mattered to him.
“But cults typically follow a supernatural being or scenario,” Lewis continued. “That’s why they use these symbols. They want to befriend the supernatural entity that they worship. They wish to honor it. So, the question is, what kind of religion or supernatural entity uses a spiral?”
Intrigued, Bolton looked at Lewis and said, “I don’t know. Figuring that out is my next step though.”
“What did your fed buddies say about this?” Lewis asked, glancing up at Bolton
“I’m having somebody look into this symbol, but other than that, I’m on my own.”
“I’m going to help you.”
“No,” Bolton said, standing up. “I came here to ask you about the symbol, not to recruit you into this investigation.”
“Okay, so you’re opening the case up again, right? Because it sure as hell isn’t closed.”
Bolton let out a sigh. “No, actually. Byrd wants the city to forget and move on.”
“Still? Are you serious?” Lewis raised his eyebrows. “What about the FBI? They can’t just let something like this go, right?”
“The FBI won’t send more backup unless Byrd wants it. Especially since he closed the case and the suspect is deceased.”
Lewis looked at Bolton in the eyes. “So, what you’re saying is, you’re alone.”
Bolton nodded.
“Okay. I’m helping you investigate.”
“I can’t allow that. I’m sorry,” the detective said.
Lewis looked at Bolton with an electrifying glance. “Bolton, let me ask you something. Why did you become an FBI agent? What drove you to this profession?”
Bolton sat back down with a small sigh and took his eyes away from Lewis.
“I grew up in a really small town, ’bout thirty miles outside of Billings. You know, Montana. My dad was a preacher. My mom stayed at home and looked after us. Well, we had this family in town, the Currys. They were the only family in town who never showed up to Sunday service, most likely because they were too busy smoking crack and doing lines of cocaine. And our town was tiny. I mean, if you were walking through on Sunday morning, you wouldn’t see a single soul because everybody was at church. Well, everyone but the Currys.”
He paused to take a sip of his beer.
“One Sunday, the daughter went missing. Nobody knew where she went. The Currys knew where everybody would be, so they drove to the church and barged through the door mid-service. There was about six of them, and they were all holding guns. They demanded that whoever took their little girl give her up and nobody would get hurt. Well, the sheriff stood up and tried to calm Mr. Curry down, but it wasn’t working. Curry grabbed an old lady and punched her with the butt of his gun. Sheriff went for his gun, and Currys started shooting up the place. One of them aimed his gun at me, and my dad ran in front of the bullet. Both of my parents were killed that day. If it wasn’t for the other officers in the church, the Currys might’ve killed the entire town. Five members of the family were killed, but Mr. Curry escaped. I spent the entire summer trying to find him. When I did, I put a bullet in his head. Funny thing is, the daughter ran away with a boyfriend and just didn’t tell anybody. So, when I turned eighteen, I became a cop. Wanted to look out for the town and make sure nothing like that happened again. I lost everything that day.”
He finished the last of his beer then continued, “A few years down the road, there were some murders down by Yellowstone, and they called all of us there. I was the one to find the guy, and when I did, I was invited to join the FBI. So, I went to the academy and got stationed in Nashville. Got a call about a murder in Portland, and here we are.”
Lewis stood up and looked at him intensely. “Bolton,” he said, speaking slowly, “I may not be a cop or an FBI agent, but I am a psychology professor. I study things like this, and you don’t have anybody else in your corner except me. So, I’m helping you.”
Bolton looked down and sighed.
“Shit,” he mumbled.