The Torso Murders Read online

  It wasn’t until Mitch humiliated him again, the following day, that sleep-deprived Jonas became angry, but instead of telling him to go fuck himself, he remotely accessed Mitch’s workstation. Careful to conceal his intrusion from his employer and activity from the other techs, he looked at everything Mitch Ryan did as a trader for SAEx, and smiled when he found Mitch’s personal investment accounts. He didn’t know if what Mitch was doing was legal or permitted by the company or not, but his smile grew wider when an idea occurred to him. He set up an investor account for himself in another name and then, copying Mitch’s example exactly, set up an offshore account for depositing daily profits. He wrote code that hid in the background and executed the same buy and sell orders Mitch made during his workday. He had invested his entire savings in his experiment and the following week he watched, in stunned amazement, the enormous profits both he and Mitch were making that ranged anywhere in the volatile marketplace between ten percent on some days to as much as forty-five percent on others. He was staggered by the amounts of money made by a business model that made so much for so few. But as the days passed he found himself obsessively watching the stock ticker at the bottom of his screens in nervous apprehension of the next soaring increase or sickening drop in the market. As his understanding deepened and he began to grasp how his algorithms wantonly manipulated the market with blindingly fast, malicious and mindless greedy purpose he understood, for the first time, what was really going on on Wall Street.

  Jonas booted up the autopilot and tapped on a stored heading. When it engaged, he sat back again in the cushioned seat. That’s when I got nervous… Mitch was certainly a greedy bastard, but I’ll never understand how he could bear all that pressure day after day and still manage to be such an arrogant ass. Despite the fact Jonas was paid a good salary and had no debt, watching the daily rollercoaster that was the stock market and knowing his algorithms were an integral part of creating the chaos that existed in a reality of its own time and space proved too much for him. No wonder I blew it. He slumped in the seat and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. When he entered the partial hold so he could upload some minor updates in the program that ran SAEx, another part of the program, still running, appeared to run wild, causing the flash crash that nearly ruined the company. The rogue error was hidden deep in the code, and when the program spun out of control, Jonas had panicked and for the first time, chanting his personal mantra failed him. The firm’s leaders had come down to yell at the traders to shut up while Mitch and his cronies screamed profanities at Jonas and the other techs to fix the program and he had sweated profusely for nearly an hour before he was able to stop the rogue code and return his algorithms to normal operation.

  “But it lives…” he said, unaware he was speaking aloud. After Darrel terminated him that day, he went home and studied the crash for a week before he came to the startling conclusion that his code specifically, and algorithms in general were, with an error the size of a nanobyte, capable of at least mimicking life, Capable of spontaneous generation. Abiogenesis... He silently recited the encyclopedic description he’d memorized, the natural process of life arising from non-living matter… Scientific hypotheses about the origins of life can be divided into three components, the geophysical, the chemical and the biological.

  “But there is another hypothesis,” he murmured, his voice lost in the noise of the engines, “and it’s mathematical.”

  Millburn, NJ

  It looks like a mannequin in a department store. She stood over the torso and parked her hands on her hips as she stared down at the right arm, extending from the torso at a ninety-degree angle. Her eyes trailed along the arm and hand and she followed the extended forefinger to the tree it pointed at directly in front of her. She looked behind her, saw a two-lane road, and walked into the middle of the deserted roadway, her hands still on her hips as she turned to look in one direction and then the other. Just this road and lots of trees… When she turned back to where the torso lay she noticed a distant white office building over the treetops. She blinked, and suddenly realized she was in a different location. She was now standing in a grassy field. She turned a slow three-sixty and stopped when she saw a two-story white stone house with multi-paned windows at the far end of the field.

  Catherine opened her eyes and smiled when she realized her nose was within inches of Jordan’s. She carefully rolled away and checked the time on her phone; Ten more minutes… Light had begun to fill the room from the curtained window and she gingerly sat up, trying not to wake Jordan. She grabbed her journal and pen from the nightstand and made an entry for the dream. At least seeing the torso didn’t freak me out so… She made a record of all the details she could remember and quickly sketched the layout for both areas before returning the pen and journal to the nightstand. Jordan slept on and Catherine rose from their bed and stretched as she crossed to the window, yawning as she pulled back the curtain to look out at the backyard. Her eyes opened wide mid-yawn when she saw the deer munching on the new grass within a few feet of the glass. She gasped aloud when the deer raised her head, briefly regarding her before lowering it again to munch on more grass.

  “Morning…” Jordan mumbled.

  She turned to her, whispering, “Hey, good morning,” she pointed out the window, “come see the…” She turned back but the backyard was empty.

  “Come see the what?”

  Catherine looked out the window, surprised, “A deer was standing right outside the window munching on the grass…” She snorted and craned her neck, her nose close to the glass as she searched for the deer, “but she’s gone already.”

  “Huh…” Jordan stretched and checked the time on her phone, “I’m getting up, it’s almost time anyway.”

  She walked around the bed, “I’ll get Cam up if you want the shower first.” She wrapped her arms around the slender waist and tilted her head for a kiss, “And I should tell you I had a new torso dream.”

  Jordan had dipped her head for a kiss and she stopped, “Really?”

  New York Bight, Atlantic Ocean

  He had set the autopilot GPS for 39.33N, 73.20W, the coordinates for U-869, also known as the U-Who, a German U-boat sunk off New Jersey’s coast in 1945 with all fifty-six hands lost. The current there flowed in a circular northeasterly direction and he liked the idea of feeding his catches to the fishes two-hundred and thirty feet over the sunken Nazi submarine, sunk by her own crew firing a homing torpedo that historians speculated likely malfunctioned and homed in on itself after being fired on an American target.

  He yawned and stretched in his seat, tilting his head back to feel the sun on his face. He lazily scanned the horizon, pleased he could still see no other vessels on the water in any direction. When the autopilot disengaged and beeped loudly, indicating his arrival at the programmed location, he cut the engines and let the Fair Winds and Following Seas coast to a stop on the moving water. Humming contentedly, he unbuckled the seatbelt and grabbed a pair of rubber work gloves and a safety harness and line from a compartment under the wetbar between the cockpit and bridge deck. He shrugged into the harness and buckled it, checking the shoulder and waist straps and for comfort and safety before snapping the clip on the end of the attached nylon line onto the boat’s rail. He pulled the gloves on his hands and stood before the aft lounger seat, checking again to make sure he was still alone then checked the water for current direction. He lifted the cushioned lid and pulled the first brown garbage bag free.

  He leaned over the portside and tore a large hole in the plastic, “I am a Peaceful Being,” he intoned softly; “I am Accomplished, a Gift from God, a Wise Old Friend…” He held the bag by the bottom and watched as Darrel Lesous’s left leg and foot, separated at the knee, dropped into the water. He watched impassively as the two pieces floated several feet from the boat before sinking then moved to the aft side and opening the gate to the swim deck, checked his safety line before kneeling on the water level deck to rinse out the bag. He worked out daily a
nd was physically fit, but he had read enough stories of lone boaters falling in the water and drowning when their vessels floated out of reach, so he had carefully measured the line on his harness to make sure if he slipped he wouldn’t fall in the water. He still, however, gripped the deck’s handhold for support as he swished the bag in the saltwater and when he straightened, he bunched and twisted the plastic in his gloved hands, squeezing the water away.

  He stood and went back to the wetbar to get a new plastic garbage bag and stuffed the torn and soiled one inside. He left it on the deck and retrieved another bag from the lounger. Repeating the process, he tore a hole in the bag and watched as Darrel Lesous’s left arm and hand slid from the bag and dropped into the water with a loud plop. Again, he made his way to the swim deck and rinsed the bag, then wrung away the water and stuffed it in the clean bag too. He repeated the well-established routine with the bag containing Darrel’s other leg and when he pulled the fourth and final bag from the lounger compartment, he stood portside and heard himself sigh heavily. He tore a large hole next to the knot at the top of the bag and turning it upside down, watched Darrel Lesous’s head, clothes and severed genitals drop into the water. He respected nature and he was always careful to conceal and dump his catch’s personal belongings in drive-thru garbage cans in the towns where he left the torsos, removing cell phone batteries and disposing of them appropriately in the recycle container at home. His head cocked to one side, thoughtful as he watched Darrel’s hair float on the briefly on the water’s surface until the cranium slowly sank beneath gentle waves.

  My vanquished foe… He expected to feel exhilarated but realized he only felt numb and he exhaled heavily, It was a long night, I’m just tired. When I put in I’ll take a nap before going home. The clothes and genitals floated away from the boat and he was watching when the deflated penis and testicles were suddenly yanked under, Feeding the fishes… he thought, and tiredly returned to the swim deck to rinse the bag. If only Mitch had kept to himself… if only he’d left me alone. If only I’d never read that article…

  He returned to the main deck and closed the gate behind him. Several minutes passed while he stood, regarding the horizon, So… he thought, vengeance was mine, and now I am done.

  “We gave you two very special and powerful names,” he heard the distant memory, “Jonas means a Peaceful Being, Accomplished, a Gift from God. And Alden means a Wise Old Friend…”

  “Yes,” he said aloud, “I am a Peaceful Being, I am Accomplished, a Gift from God, a Wise Old Friend…” He continued to stare at the horizon and another long minute passed when his head cocked thoughtfully to one side, But I’m not finished, am I? Why stop with him when I could stop them all. I can… I can… He closed his eyes tightly shut and concentrated; I can clean out Wall Street like an infected wound… and just make it all stop. Opening his eyes, he carefully stuffed the used garbage bag in with the others and stowed them again in the storage container under the aft seat cushions. He sat in the cockpit, fired up the engines and headed back, feeling the boat cut through the water. Not unlike how the ocean cleans, like tsunami floods devastate in the blink of an eye, created and destroyed, all by the minute factors that regulate life and death at sea.

  New York City, NY

  “And this is my friend, Susan Barlow.”

  “How do you do…” Catherine smiled, she had nearly burst out laughing when she shook the petite woman’s hand; she had expected someone tall like Lianna and Jordan.

  “Have a seat.” Lianna closed her office door while Catherine and Susan sat next to each other on the sofa, “I said last time I was going to ask Susan if she could attend our next session,” She sat down in a chair across from them, “thanks for coming Susan, I know you’re flying off to New Orleans after this.”

  “Really?” Catherine turned to her, “Li said you were working with a retired homicide detective…”

  She nodded, “Yep, we have a new case we need to get to, but these cases are people dealing with really intense situations so I can only work them two months of the year.”

  “Yikes,” Catherine’s brows arched, “that sounds scary.”

  “Sometimes it is,” she shrugged, “people can stay mean or messed up even after they die. But…” Susan Barlow was an attractive woman and she smiled, “I came here because you have abilities, and Lianna wants me to see how I can help.” She settled back in the cushions, “I’d like to talk a little about the things you can do to help deepen your understanding of what your abilities are and how to use them but there’s a woman patiently waiting…” She waved at the area behind Lianna. “Who really needs to talk.”

  Catherine’s nose wrinkled and she squinted at the empty space, “Really?”

  “She has a mother energy… and she’s…” Susan appeared to be listening and she grinned, “She says she and your daughter have been appearing to you in your dreams, every night when you ask?” Her voice trailed away and she looked to Catherine for clarification.

  Catherine looked stunned and she inched away, suddenly skeptical, and leaned an elbow on the arm of the sofa, “So you’re channeling my mother right now?”

  Susan smiled, glancing back at the spot, “She says so…”

  “Then what’s her name?”

  Susan paused for a moment and said, “She just said, tell my daughter Louise Bernard wants to know if she enjoyed seeing the deer this morning.”

  Catherine’s jaw dropped and she looked from the space behind Lianna to Susan, “What?”

  “She’s showing me a deer through a window. Did you see that?”

  “I did!” Catherine blurted, shocked, “I did! I looked out the bedroom window and there was one right outside the window this morning when I got up!” Her eyes suddenly brimmed and her chin trembled, “Okay… I’m, uh…” her voice wavered and she shook her head, “Wow.”

  Susan sat quietly with her hands in her lap, “She says she and Chelsea are happy… And she says they are happy you and your son are happy with…” She paused for a moment then added, “Jordan and that they are both at peace.” She looked at her, “She wants to know; did you forget this? She told you via an… uh…” Susan’s brow furrowed, “she says, an older woman, in spirit, relayed this to you already; that they were at peace, did you forget that?”

  Tears slipped from Catherine’s eyes, “No,” she said in a quiet voice, “I’d never forget that.” Lianna held out a box of tissues to her and she dragged two from the box, “Thank you.” She wiped her face, “But if I’m so psychic then why doesn’t she just come and speak to me herself?”

  “Again, she says they do appear to you in your dreams… She says she has come to you in your dreams since her passing and it’s not her fault those dreams only feel like ordinary dreams to you and not your… She’s doing this to me;” she held up her hands and made quotation marks in the air, “your special psychic dreams.” She turned to her, “She’s funny, your mother.”

  Catherine emitted an amused snort, “Yep, that’s her.”

  “She says they do watch over you and your son but they don’t speak to you directly because they’re afraid all you’ll want to do is spend time with them in their world and not live in your own.” She paused for a moment before adding, “Your mother and daughter want you and your son to be happy in this life, in the here and now of this world, do you understand?”

  Another tear slipped from Catherine’s eye and she nodded, “Yes, I do… really, I do.”

  “She says you’ll know when they’re checking in on you by the white feathers?”

  “White feathers?” Catherine repeated uncomprehendingly.

  Susan shrugged, “That’s what she said.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  “Alright then…” Susan drew a deep breath, exhaling audibly, “Now we need to talk about your abilities.”

  “Okay.” Catherine cleared her throat and blotted at her eyes again.

  “I’ve asked my own guides to give me some insight here as to your psychic a
bilities and I’m getting that you’ve had these abilities your entire life, but you shrugged them off and concentrated on your math skills so you could put off having to deal with both your psychic ability and sexuality while you were growing up. Is that true?”

  Catherine was silent for a moment, considering her words, “About my sexuality, yes, I’d agree with that, although I don’t remember feeling like I was psychic, I never saw dead people or anything.”

  “Yes, that’s because your abilities are starting out as psychic impressions you’re getting while you sleep, back then you would have brushed them off as merely dreams. I suspect the other stressors in your life simply pushed your psychic awareness into the background until your life settled and you were ready for it.”

  She snuck a look at Lianna, “Well, that’s certainly true.”

  “So,” Susan stared down at the floor for a moment, “I’m getting that you help your partner by seeing crimes scenes either after or while they are happening, but you can also sometimes see the perpetrator?”

  “Yes,” she nodded, “but I feel like I’m not being terribly helpful yet.”

  “Ah,” Susan flashed a smile, “Good word; yet. You keep a journal for your dreams?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. And you’ve been having psychic dreams about a case you and your partner are working on right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, then try doing this; after you have one of these dreams, try going to the crime scene itself, while the body’s still there, if you can, and see if you can pick up any impressions. Touch the body, if that doesn’t freak you out…” She shrugged, “It’s okay if you can’t or if you need to work up to that, it’s perfectly understandable.”