Beyond the threshold, Marcus found a room filled with a group of people. Members of the group talked amongst themselves, but it seemed as if they all awaited the arrival of one more party guest. When he entered, they turned toward him and ceased their conversations.
The room spun, and he felt weak in the knees. It seemed as if the world had been turned upside down and inside out. He wondered if he’d lost his mind somewhere along the way.
The world had become a place so alien to him. Everything that he knew to be true now appeared to be false. And everything that he felt was solid and tangible proved to be an illusion.
As he scanned the faces of the individuals gathered in the room, he felt such a wide range of emotions that he found it impossible to pick one and stick with it. He was on the verge of tears and the cusp of laughter, all at the same time.
He recognized some of the Sheriff’s men, but it was no surprise to see them. It did come as a surprise, however, to see Maggie and the spectral figure next to her. Andrew wore a huge grin and held a green can of soda in one hand.
Ghosts are not supposed to smile and drink Mountain Dew. His breathing verged on hyperventilation.
Andrew’s resurrection wasn’t the only surprise, however. The ghost of an English teacher sitting in one of the briefing room chairs was even more shocking. The man’s wife, Loren—if she was really his wife at all—sat next to him.
Allen Brubaker had apparently not died at the farmhouse that night, and neither had his wife. Their children, Charlie and Amy, weren’t present in the room, but he supposed that their deaths had been falsified as well.
When he first laid eyes upon the group, he felt so overwhelmed with relief and joy that he fought the urge to embrace them all. The feeling of joy soon turned to anger when he thought of the pain and guilt he had felt at having failed them. The truth was that they had been aligned against him from the beginning.
The ghosts of Andrew Garrison and Allen Brubaker stepped forward to greet him. He noticed that Maggie shied back. She looked ashamed. Good, run with that.
Andrew gave him a wide grin as he approached. “Hey, buddy. Sorry we had to lie to you about all this.”
Allen Brubaker stuck out his hand. With a playful smile, he said, “No hard feelings, right?”
Marcus looked down at the proffered hand with a blank expression. “Of course not.” With a snap of movement, he reached out, grabbed a handful of Andrew’s shirt, and slammed his forehead into the man’s skull.
Andrew fell backward to the floor.
But before Andrew had even hit the ground, he threw a right hook into Allen Brubaker’s jaw. Allen fell back, joining Andrew.
The pair sat on the briefing room floor, expressions of shock on their faces.
The Sheriff chuckled beside him. “Attaboy … let it all out.”
He rounded on the Sheriff and landed a fast and vicious punch to the man’s face. The Sheriff also fell to the ground, but he didn’t seem shocked at all. He sat on the tile floor and laughed while he rubbed the side of his head.
Marcus turned back to Allen and Andrew, who had yet to make any attempt to stand. “What is wrong with you people? You think this is some kinda game? You let me think you were dead and made me feel responsible. You’re all nuts. You stay away from me.”
When he raised his eyes from the men on the floor, he saw Maggie. He pointed a finger at her and said, “You’re lucky you’re a woman, or you’d be on the floor with them.”
He stalked past all of them and sat down in one of the briefing room chairs on the far side of the room. After a few moments, the Sheriff walked over and pulled up a chair across from him. “That went better than I expected.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t have a gun.”
“Oh now, you don’t mean that. You don’t even like guns, remember?”
“I’m starting to revise my policies.” His voice trembled. He kept his gaze focused somewhere far away, not wanting to look the Sheriff in the eye. He would have walked out the door if he didn’t want answers—or if he thought they’d allow him to leave that easily.
“As I look back, I’m certain that I made the right choice in bringing you here,” the Sheriff said.
He brought his eyes up to the Sheriff and fixed him with a piercing gaze. “Why did you bring me here, and what exactly is going on? Up until a few minutes ago, I thought that most of the people in this room were dead. I saw them die, but here they are. How?”
“Those are very good questions, kid. The answer regarding the people in this room is simple. It’s amazing what they can do with special effects these days.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Half the time, I was running around with a gun. What if I would have shot you or one of them?”
“We controlled the environment as much as we could and wore protective gear. But to be perfectly honest, Marcus, I knew that you would never intentionally kill anyone unless you had absolutely no other choice. We’ve put together extensive psychiatric profiles on you. Although, the thing with the can of whatever it was that you used as a makeshift grenade at the Brubakers’ house—which was classic, by the way—well, that made me question my assumptions a little, but not much. Besides, everyone here knew the risk. My people are the best, but a lot of planning went into this operation … a lot of work. I even made everyone go through an acting boot camp to make sure that they could be convincing. I did, however, leave some clues for you. I wanted to test your attention to detail. We improvised a lot, but things seemed to work out.”
The Sheriff chuckled. “You really threw us some curves. Like with the Brubakers. The officer that had captured you was supposed to fake car trouble next to the Brubakers’ house. Then, Allen would see something was wrong and rescue you, etcetera etcetera. But you run the car off the road and escape. You were almost where you were supposed to be and injured, so it makes sense that you would approach the house. But it was strange the way that things seemed to come together … definitely destiny at work. Maggie’s another example. She’s one of Allen’s team and not my daughter, by the way. Her job was merely to observe you in the bar and then play a small role later on with you and Andrew. Fate had other plans. Regardless, after you took interest in her, she had to play things out.”
The Sheriff looked over at Maggie and leaned in close. “Go easy on her, by the way. Some of the things she told you were lies, but I don’t think that her feelings toward you are. Just keep that in mind. She—”
“I don’t even know who she is.”
“Now you can take the time for that, but it’s really none of my business.”
The Sheriff sat back and drew in a deep breath. “In regards to your other question of why you’re here … that’s a little more complicated. It all began with a list. This list contained the names of thousands of prospective candidates, people who for one reason or another had been flagged as having the right potential. You were one of the names on that list. Initially because of what happened to your parents, and later for the potential abilities that you possessed. As time progressed, we crossed off many of the names on that list for one reason or another, until only a select few remained.”
The Sheriff paused as if choosing his next words with care. “After what happened with Senator Mavros, I knew that you were the one.”
“Because you’re looking to recruit a killer?”
The Sheriff sat up straighter. “Absolutely not. It’s because I was searching for someone who would do what they knew was right—regardless of whether or not it was popular. Some people have unexplainable gifts. They are skilled in mathematics, or musical theory, or possess natural athletic abilities. Some people have … other gifts. Science cannot adequately explain it. I’m not sure whether heroes are born or made. I don’t know if the special gifts that they possess are elements engrained into the person’s genetic structure, part of the soul, or whether the events of their lives shape them into extraordinary individuals with the power to do great things. What I do know is that you are one of those people. And that is who I’ve been searching for. I’ve been looking for a hero.”
A moment of silence passed. “You got the wrong guy. I’m no hero.”
“Which is exactly what a hero would say.”
“You still haven’t answered my question. What do you want from me? Why bring me here?”
The Sheriff scratched at his goatee and leaned closer. “I’m the head of a group within our government known as the Shepherd Organization. We are charged with doing whatever is necessary to protect the citizens of this country.”
“Whatever is necessary? So you’re above the law?”
“The short answer is yes. We’re the good guys that do the necessary evil. I’ve brought you here because you possess abilities specifically suited to hunt down and eliminate serial killers.”
“And by eliminate, you mean murder. Don’t the cops and the FBI do a pretty good job of catching killers?”
“The groups you mentioned stop criminals. The majority of the people we hunt are not mere criminals. We don’t often deal with people who kill for money, love, revenge, or any other rational motive. The individuals we hunt are monsters. They slaughter innocent people for no reason and feel no remorse. The FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit released a study a while back that estimated there are twenty to fifty unidentified active serial killers in the United States. In my experience, that number is highly optimistic. Someone has to do whatever is necessary to protect the citizens of this country from these monsters. We’re called the Shepherd Organization because we’re charged with keeping the wolves away.”
Marcus shook his head in contempt. “You bypass the justice system. You act as judge, jury, and executioner.”
“We do what needs to be done. Some of our actions might bypass the justice system, but we don’t bypass justice. We enforce justice, and all of our activities are sanctioned by the United States government and the President himself.”
Marcus laughed. “Right. The President himself. For all I know, you’re the Unabomber, and this is all just part of your manifesto.”
“Sure, ’cause a man like the Unabomber wouldn’t have any problems acquiring a Briefing Room at an FBI field office. Take a look over there at that man talking with Allen. I asked him to hang back when you came in, but he’s very excited to meet you.”
He swiveled around and saw a man that he definitely recognized. “That’s … umm …”
“Thomas Caldwell, Attorney General of the United States of America.”
The Attorney General noticed their attention and gave a two-fingered salute.
His throat went dry. He swallowed hard and said, “That’s an impersonator. You set that up to trick me.”
The Sheriff laughed. “You’re getting paranoid, but after the week you’ve had, I don’t blame you. I’ll introduce you to him later. You can decide his authenticity for yourself. If you’re not convinced at that point, then we’ll set you up for a personal tour of the White House.”
He opened his mouth to issue a smartass comment, but the words stuck in his throat. Being a smartass was his defense mechanism. He was beginning to understand that. It was just one of the walls he had erected to ensure many good acquaintances, but no close friends.
The Sheriff continued. “One of our former presidents issued an executive order that founded the Shepherd Organization. He felt that extreme circumstances sometimes presented themselves where the law failed, and in the end, some laws that were meant to protect allowed evil men to go unpunished. He envisioned a group that could cut through the red tape and bureaucracy and get the job done. Our founders designed the Shepherd Organization to operate under the direction of the President, Vice President, and the Attorney General. They also designed the group to be disbanded at any time if the current president felt that the organization was no longer necessary or had lost sight of its purpose. Despite that fact, the organization has never failed to have the complete and unwavering support of our commander in chief. We’re a very small, elite group. No big, bloated budget like Homeland or the FBI. We take our recruitment and selection process very seriously. There aren’t many Shepherds. That’s why the Attorney General wanted to meet you. You see, we operate in cell groups—”
“Like terrorists.”
Unfazed by the comment, the Sheriff said, “Exactly. This is to help ensure the safety of the group and their families. As you can imagine, we do make enemies from time to time. One Shepherd and his support team comprise these cell groups. That’s where you come in. Allen’s been a Shepherd for many years now. It’s time for him to pass the torch. He’s going to settle down and annoy his wife and kids for a while. You’re here to take over his team.”
“I’m surprised you’re allowed to have a family.”
“Actually, it’s encouraged. Having the support of a family helps us to remember why we do what we do. Keeps us sane.”
Marcus shook his head and asked, “Why me? Why not Andrew or Lewis Foster or anyone else but me?”
The Sheriff cast a deep, penetrating gaze. “Because it’s your destiny. It’s who you are. It’s who you were born to be. As for the others you mentioned, Andrew is Allen’s right-hand man, and quite frankly, he knows his destiny and his place. He’s happy where he is. As for Lewis …”
The Sheriff hesitated, and tears formed. “Lewis was like a son to me, and he desperately wanted to be a Shepherd. I never had the heart to tell him why, but he wasn’t the right kind of man. Lewis loved this work. He loved nothing more than to take down the bad guys and help people, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. He took great joy in the removal of every evil person that we hunted. But, to be perfectly honest, that’s not the kind of man who makes a Shepherd.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not looking for someone to take joy in this job. I’m looking for someone who is going to be haunted by what we do. I’m looking for a man who will agonize and question and see the faces of every person he has killed every time he closes his eyes. I’m looking for someone who is going to wonder whether what he is doing is right and whether his creator condones his actions. But the man I’m looking for presses forward and still does the job. Because deep in his heart, he knows what he’s doing is right and just. That’s who I’ve been searching for. When that man pulls the trigger, he’ll be sure. And that’s why I chose you, Marcus. Not because you killed Mavros, but because of the way taking his life changed you. The way the act haunted you.”
Marcus raised two fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezed. His headache was getting worse. A few moments of silence passed. “What about Ackerman? Why bring him into this?”
A look of sorrow fell upon the Sheriff, and he averted his gaze. “Ackerman was definitely not supposed to get free, but … I was sloppy and made a mistake. I’m just going to have to live with that. Allen warned me, but I felt that Ackerman was a necessary part of your recruitment. We caught him in Colorado. He killed a couple of cops there and then shot up a diner. Allen, Andrew, and Lewis tracked him to Maureen Hill’s home. They shot him with a tranquilizer gun from a distance. Looking back, we should have killed him on the spot. The plan was always to stage a murder scene using a cadaver and then have you stumble upon the killer. Ackerman provided those elements with Maureen Hill’s murder. We had been tracking him for a long time. The timing actually forced us to escalate things. That’s why Maggie took you to see Maureen on your first date. We—”
“But why did you need a real killer in the first place? Wouldn’t it have been much safer to just have someone play a part?”
The Sheriff shook his head. “You would’ve known. It wouldn’t have served our purpose. You can’t just fake being a man like Ackerman. The plan was to capture you when you stumbled onto the murder scene and tie both of you up in the same room. You needed to be confronted with the face of evil. You needed to stare into the darkness of his soul and see the kind of man that we hunt. A man like Ackerman can’t be rehabilitated or reasoned with. He was an animal. It might not have been his fault and a part of me feels for the man, but ultimately, he was a killer and would have continued to hurt innocent people until someone stopped him. Letting him roam free or even putting him in prison, is like … throwing a great white into a pool full of kids.”
“Ackerman saved us. He actually seemed to be repentant. When we were at the school in Asherton, he asked me about forgiveness. If he really was redeemed at the very end of his life, killing him before would have denied him that and condemned his soul. We don’t have the right.”
“And how many people had to die for him to find his way? What about their souls? Does he have the right?”
“He could have been captured and locked away in a cell where he couldn’t hurt anyone. Then, he would have had his whole life to think about all that he’d done.”
“I used to have a friend who worked at this maximum security prison. He told me a story about this man who had killed multiple people. One day, they were serving eggs, and this killer complained that his eggs were runny. The server, of course, asked him who he thought he was and basically told him to sit down and shut up. The killer sat his tray to the side and then kicked the server in the throat. The man died almost instantly—all over some runny eggs. Killer didn’t care. He was already serving multiple life sentences. And our tax dollars clothe, shelter, and feed that monster.”
The Sheriff leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I understand where you’re coming from, but we play a simple game of mathematics, kid. We bring one death to a murderer in order to save the lives of the killer’s many potential victims. It’s not perfect, but it’s the only way to truly protect the innocent.”
Marcus sighed. “Why play this game in the first place? Why not just have the conversation we’re havin’ now?”
“This has been no game, kid. You could think of it more as an entrance exam, but honestly, I’ve known all along that you were the man that I was looking for. All of this has been more for you to discover that for yourself. We’ve tried and failed in the past doing as you said. The men we recruited weren’t prepared for the demons they would face—inside and outside. They would hesitate. People died. And there was no amount of simulation that could prepare them. That’s when we devised this method of recruitment. We threw you into a situation that forced you to confront your abilities and your destiny.
“That’s why I chose an assassination plot. I wanted to put you in a position where you had to face saving the life of another person in power that was potentially a murderer. I felt that wrestling with those implications would force you to deal with your feelings about killing Mavros—bring it right to the forefront of your mind. We had a whole intricate plan worked out where you would try to stop me in San Antonio, but with Ackerman on the loose and people dying, I had Andrew cut our little drama short. We were going to bring you in after we completed the final act and then go after Ackerman together, but you bolted from the gravesite and went after him on your own. Which I suppose proves that you’re ready, but you wouldn’t have been before confronting who you are. Before you can move forward and discover what lies ahead, you have to come to terms with the road behind you.”
“Come to terms with the road behind me? I’ve killed in cold blood. How am I supposed to come to terms with that? How can you expect me to work for you doing more of the same? Is that really my destiny … to be a killer?”
The Sheriff shrugged. “I’m sorry, kid. Nothing is black and white. If you’re looking for a perfect world, you got off on the wrong exit. This world is filled with shades of gray, and every decision is a double-edged sword for which both sides can be argued. More often than not, there is no right choice, just the lesser of two evils. I don’t have all the answers. I wish I did. I wish that I could quote some scripture or words of wisdom that would help you reconcile all this, but I can’t. All I can say is that, in the end, you have to look deep inside yourself. Deep down in your soul, you know whether the things you’ve done are right or wrong.”
“Let me ask you this,” the Sheriff said softly as he leaned in close. “Do you really feel guilty for killing Mavros? Is that what haunts you? Or is it the fact that you took another human being’s life but didn’t feel guilty at all?”
Marcus held the Sheriff’s gaze for a few seconds but then looked away. His eyes stung with tears.
“It scared you, didn’t it? It scared you because it made you wonder what separated a man like you from a man like Ackerman. It made you question what you were truly capable of. That’s the real secret from your past that’s been haunting you, isn’t it?”
Marcus lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying to hold the tears inside. “I should have felt something. I should have felt guilt and remorse and a thousand other emotions that a normal person would feel after killing someone, but I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything. Ackerman commented that he could kill Maggie as easily as flipping a light switch. Those words stuck with me. Because that’s as easy as it was. I just raised the gun and turned out his light.” The tears broke free and rolled down his face. “You’re right. Ever since that night in New York, I’ve been wondering how thin the line is between me and someone like Ackerman. When he said those words, I found out exactly how thin that line is. And yes … it scares me.”
The Sheriff’s eyes shone with warmth and understanding. “I may not have all the answers, kid, but I know one thing for certain. You are nothing like Ackerman. The two of you are at completely opposite ends of the spectrum. Maybe the reason that you didn’t feel guilty about Mavros is because you knew in your heart that it was the right thing to do? You protected more than just the girl in the car that night. You protected every victim that would have come after her. Evil will flourish if there are no good men to stand against it, and that’s what would have happened with Mavros. He would have continued to prey on the innocent until someone had the courage to do what was right and stand against him—even if that meant standing alone.”
The Sheriff stood and placed a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “You’ve got all the time you need to think about my offer. But in my opinion, people can be categorized into three groups. You are either a shepherd, a wolf, or one of the flock. I can say with absolute certainty that you are not one of the wolves. Now, you have to decide whether you are a protector and a shepherd … or are you just one of the flock?”
*
The Director left Marcus to his thoughts and joined the others. Allen walked up and said, “How’s he taking it?”
“Pretty well, considering the situation.”
“Do you think he’ll accept?”
“It’s too early to say for sure, but I believe that he will.”
“Good. I’m getting too old for this.” Allen hesitated, thrummed his fingers against his glass, and ran a hand through his gray-white hair. “Are you going to tell Marcus about … the connection between himself and Ackerman?”
“No.”
“You don’t think he needs to know the truth?”
“Ackerman’s dead. Marcus never needs to know.”