Most of the night had been spent in thought. Pointing my powers of perception on my own psyche was always problematic. Sociopaths are not good at introspection. We are impulsive, vain, self-centered and emotionally stunted. Introspection was dangerous, because we tended not to notice our faults, only our good qualities. Too much reflection inflated the ego and gave us grandiose ideas about ourselves.
For me, these were usually rapidly ruptured by a reality check from my coworkers. This morning was no different. I’d had several strokes of genius and felt like King Kong conquering the Empire State Building right up to the moment when Lucas opened his mouth.
“Do you think he will be staking out the fair tonight or tomorrow?” Lucas asked.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. That was a question I didn’t have an answer for, land blow number one.
“The geographic profile has him living in Northern Missouri, there are a few other fairs going on. Do you think it will be Quincy, Illinois?” Lucas pressed.
“I don’t know,” I answered as blow number two cut into my self-inflated ego.
“What about the serial killer?” Lucas asked.
“I don’t know,” I continued with the same answer, feeling my ego finally fall back into the range of normal for me.
“If it were you?” Lucas asked.
“If it were me as the bomber or the sniper?” I asked.
“Both,” Lucas said.
“I’d strike at Quincy if I was the bomber. Lots of things going on, larger population, larger attendance. If I was the serial killer, probably not Quincy. The things that work in favor of the bomber would work against the sniper. The larger crowd is going to mean killing the queen will have less of an impact. She’ll be less known for starters. And even if he uses the same dramatic flair that he used here, it will have less of an impact and more of a chance for a stray shot. Missing his target or killing two with one shot is not in this guy’s agenda. He wants the queen and he wants her death to be awe-inspiringly gruesome.”
That was all Gabriel was waiting to hear. I was told I had thirty minutes to pack and get my behind in the SUV. It took me less than ten.
We were heading north east along Highway 36. Whistle stop hamlets passed the windows of the SUV with names like Hunnewell. We stopped in Monroe City and grabbed lunch, they had a Subway Sandwich shop. Gabriel got a wrap and ate as the rest of us got our sandwiches, sodas, cookies and visited the attached gas station for road trip food. I grabbed two bags of beef jerky, one for me and one for Gabriel. The two of us agreed that no matter how bad it was for me, it was a travelling staple and we were unable to share a single bag. The fact that we were maybe an hour from Quincy, Illinois didn’t stop us from needing several bags to carry out all of our snack foods. There was just something about travelling by car that required snacky things.
Instead of continuing on 36, we turned and took a different highway. I recognized it. It took us through the town of Palmyra. In ten years, this community would still be struggling with their visits by mad bombers, a serial killing sniper and the US Marshals Serial Crimes Tracking Unit. A large, temporary memorial shrine had been placed near the highway for all travelers to see. My face wrinkled and the corners of my mouth turned down automatically. It wasn’t the shrine, it was the fact that devastation and death brought lookie-loos. There would be swarms of people that would drive this highway just to see the shrine and probably, visit the town to drive past the ruined fairgrounds. It wasn’t a secret that I had issues with both the press and lookie-loos. Deciding which was worse was the hard part; I considered them both parasitic insects sucking every last drop of sorrow from the grieving. I knew from experience and not just as a Marshal, my past had made sure to give me some up close and personal time with both.
The Mississippi River was busy as we crossed into Illinois. Barges full of cargo moved down the river. A few pleasure boats, their occupants damaging their skin in the midday sun, were anchored near the shores. Then it was gone, replaced by city.
Quincy isn’t a small town, it’s a bustling, thriving city of medium size. It is smaller than my hometown of Columbia, Missouri, but at times it seemed larger. I had visited the place once before, as a child, before my father had died. Even before I had been abducted by a child predator. I didn’t remember much about the trip except that I was a girl who thought purple shorts and pink T-shirt with a puppy dog printed on it was a matching outfit.
My parents had spread a picnic out in some park, overlooking the river and we had enjoyed a pleasant lunch watching the barges move up and down the river. After the picnic, my parents had taken me to a few historical sites in Quincy before returning to Missouri. We stayed the night in Hannibal and spent the following day enjoying the sights and sounds of a busy summer day in Hannibal. We’d returned home without a care in the world, I was due to start school in a few days. That was the last family trip I had taken with both my parents. Two months later, I had been abducted and while, my father had lived for several years after that event, it changed him.
We didn’t travel after that. My father started a neighborhood watch and used the police force to run background checks on all potential neighbors. Almost overnight, the neighborhood became like a prison camp with my father as warden and all the adult neighbors as guards patrolling the streets and watching after the children like thunderbirds were going to swoop down from the sky and kidnap all of us.
Gabriel stopped on the outskirts of town. He’d parked in a large parking area that struggled to grow grass. I shook off the memories of my childhood as I stepped into the sunshine. For a moment, I let it shine on my face, enjoying the warmth it spread through my cheeks and the dazzling lights it produced even through my sunglasses and closed eyelids.
“Ready?” Lucas asked, his voice was soft. I looked at him. He was eyeing me with intensity.
“Yes,” I told him.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “A girl can’t enjoy a moment of sunshine after riding in a refrigerator with you three?”
“Sure, but that wasn’t it,” Lucas said. There were times I wondered if Lucas was holding back the fact that he could read minds. It felt like he could read mine at times. It was unsettling. Since I had no interest in sharing my memories of my last summer trip, I ignored him and began to follow Xavier.
“How about some help?” Michael’s voice came from the SUV. I had forgotten about him, tucked away in the third row of seats. Gabriel had grabbed him a sandwich and he’d eaten quietly in the car with the rest of us. Somehow, it was easy for me to forget he was there. It was like he was a ghost of a person, never leaving an impact on me until he either spoke or I realized he wasn’t with us and should be.
“Kemosabe,” I hooked a finger at Michael.
“What?” Gabriel turned around, saw me pointing and shook his head. Sometimes, Gabriel seemed to forget too. “Lucas, grab his wheelchair and help him into it.”
Lucas was already in action. The injured computer geek was leaning against the SUV, crutches still in the vehicle. He could use them, but on this ground, it would be easy to miss a step and break something else.
Adams pulled in while Lucas futzed with Michael. Silently, I groaned. Another encounter with Homeland Security wasn’t high on my list of things to do.
“Marshal Cain,” Adams said walking past me. When his back was turned, I gave him the finger. Xavier giggled that high pitched, madman giggle that was reserved for special moments. It was a form of inappropriate laughter that he couldn’t really control, some things just tickled his funny bone. When they did and he tried not to laugh, that was the result. I was slowly learning his secrets and the madman’s giggle was a side-effect of something darker.
Adams stared at Xavier like Cthulu had just sprung from Xavier’s body like in the Aliens movie. This made Xavier giggle again. He put his hand over his mouth and made a strange gesture.
“Ignore the giggle, you get used to it,” I told Adams, speeding towards Xavier. Xavier’s face was turning red from the giggling. “Need a moment?” I whispered.
He shook his head no. I stood next to him, hiding him from Adams. I may have incited the incident, but with Adams being the target, Xavier would continue to giggle if he looked at him.
After a couple of seconds, Xavier regained control of himself. He stood erect and smiled at me. I gave him a lopsided grin and we turned to walk towards an unknown destination.
“Fruit loops.” I heard Adams say from behind us.
“That’s the pot,” I said to Xavier.
“No kidding,” Xavier said back. “Where are we headed?”
“Beats me. I was hoping Gabriel would catch up and give us some direction.”
“Gabriel didn’t move.”
“Oh, well, I’m guessing we are going to be staking the place out, so where is security?” I asked Xavier.
“I have never been to Quincy in my life, let alone the fairgrounds. Why would I know?”
“Because we look stupid if we stop now.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I know,” Michael whispered. Xavier jumped. I had heard the wheels moving quickly over the rough dirt.
“Yes, it is.” I resisted the urge to pat him on the shoulder and ask if his leg hurt. He looked like he was stoned and broken bones tended to hurt, so there was no need to ask the obvious.