Mike pulled his cruiser to a stop in front of Nature’s Spirits with the passenger door curbside. There was a six-foot gap between car and awning, and Dianna opened the door and made a break for it. Mike hurried to meet her and stood watching the street while she fitted the key into the lock. The door clicked open and a thin wailing began.
“There’s a security thing,” said Dianna as she hurried over and punched numbers into a keypad on the wall. The wailing stopped and the store was plunged into silence.
Mike looked around, one hand on his holstered gun. He’d been in there a dozen times, including that time he came in to ask Dianna if she’d like to go to dinner with him. It was almost right where he was standing when she’d declined with a lovely smile and an explanation about her dating preferences. Mike had been surprised and disappointed, but had been cool with it. As the Fringe community along Boundary Street had grown, he’d long since learned to overcome the male view that lesbians were a “type.” Dianna was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, let alone known, and his regret was a wistful one. He also envied Gayle, though it was merely envy and not the more petty emotion of jealousy, which carried with it a false sense of ownership. Mike had his full share of issues, but jealousy and intolerance were not among them.
As if reading his mind—or sensing his emotions—Dianna touched his arm and gave him a sweet smile.
“You’re a good man, Mike,” she said. “I hope you know that.”
“Trying to be,” he replied, and they smiled at each other for a moment. Then he turned and pointed to the counter. “Is that where Ophelia keeps her client sheets?”
“Yes, there’s an accordion file for payroll and other stuff,” said Dianna as she hustled around behind the counter. She pulled the buff-colored file onto the countertop, located the pocket for time sheets, and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Here!” she said excitedly.
She spread the papers out and pulled the one from the right day. They looked down at the name of the first client listed.
“Owen Minor,” said Mike. He shook his head. “Never heard of him, have you?”
When Dianna did not immediately reply he looked at her and saw that her eyes had become strangely unfocused, as if she was looking inward instead of at him. Her lips formed the four syllables of that name. Once, twice … Mike stood very still, waiting.
Finally Dianna blinked her eyes clear and in that moment her expression fell into sickness and disgust.
“That’s him,” she said.
“You’re sure?”
Her eyes hardened. “Yes. Now that I see his name? After everything I saw in that vision? Yes. Owen Minor is the Lord of the Flies.”
“Outstanding,” said Mike. “I’d better call Crow and tell him.”
He made the call, but there was no answer.
“That’s weird,” he said. “Why would he have the ringer turned off?”
“Let me call Gayle,” said Dianna, pulling out her cell. She found the number and hit the call button. It rang four times and just when she thought it was going to go to voicemail Gayle answered.
But she answered with a scream.
“Dianna! There’s a bunch of psycho zombie bikers! I think he sent them. Oh my god, I … I … I shot some of them!”
And then the call abruptly ended.
“Stay here,” yelled Mike as he ran for the door.
Dianna did not stay there. She was in the cruiser before he was.