Highway Butcher – Chapter Five

NOT EDITED

Chapter Five

8:00 PM; LOS ANGELES, DAVID QUINN’S APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM

From his place on the couch, Bo lifted his head as David came back into the room with two blankets and a pillow. “Thank you for offering to let me stay the night. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

David set the blankets on the arm of the couch before sitting down beside Bo. “You aren’t in my hair. Having you here isn’t a problem, Bo. You’re the little brother I always wanted. You aren’t a problem or an annoyance. I love you. I’d house you here forever if you’d stay.”

“But… you know that I won’t,” Bo said quietly.

“Unfortunately.” When Bo held onto his silence, David cleared his throat to break it. “So, umm, who do you think that guy was?”

“I think ‘Jensen’ isn’t a popular enough name in the U.S. for it to have been a lie. Most people giving fake names choose popular names, easy-to-forget names. Regardless, even if I had believed the reporter lie for half a second, there are no reporters in L.A., or even California, named Jensen.” Bo sighed. “If you want the truth, I believe Kathy sent him.”

“Sent him for what?”

“To kill me. Maybe just threaten me. Maybe to befriend me before revealing he’s been a serial killer this whole time. I don’t know. But I do know she claims to have people on the outside who would do to me whatever she ordered them to.”

“Jesus.”

“Yes, she… is not my biggest fan, to say the least.”

“Yeah,” David said, his voice quiet. “If she was ordering someone to kill you, he would’ve done it already. He’s been following you since Clinstone. So what, six months?”

“Approximately.”

“And if he was here to threaten you, he would have.”

“I suppose.”

“And the killer thing. I don’t… I don’t think she’d do that.”

“What, you think she’s above it?”

“No, not even a little. But I know that she probably knows you aren’t out here looking for new best friends. If that was her plan, it’s a complete waste of six months. If she’s looking to torture you or make you miserable, she doesn’t need to waste any time or resources. She just needs to be herself.”

“That’s… fair,” Bo said after a moment. He let out a breath. “Whoever he is, thank you for helping me get away from him. I can only imagine he’ll find me again, but it’s… On the drive from the hotel to here, I didn’t feel like I was looking over my shoulder or being followed or being observed like some sort of caged lab experiment. It was nice. I missed that feeling. That… peace. Tranquility. Thank you.”

“No problem. If you notice him again, you let me know. The next time you tackle him, I’m arresting the bastard.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Bo said. He wasn’t making any big promises that he’d call David for help, but he’d at least try to if it felt right at the time. “Do you… have any new games?”

“Man, I sure fucking do. The new Darksiders game came out in February. We could test out the co-op feature and kill some demons.”

“I would love that. Let’s fight Heaven and Hell.”

9:04 PM; SAN DIEGO, THE PITMAN ESTATE, JAMAL PITMAN’S OFFICE

Almost hesitantly, Jensen lowered himself into one of the chairs in front of Jamal’s desk. The older man simply stared at him, one slightly judgmental eyebrow raised. “To my credit, he tricked me,” Jensen said.

“He’s quite good at that,” Jamal said. He sighed. “We all… lose a client now and then. I mean, Franklin has certainly lost me a time or two.”

“Generally because you fire me, but okay,” Franklin said from the corner.

“I’m trying to make the boy feel better.”

Franklin met Jensen’s eyes. “He’s your first real client, whether he knows that or not. You lost a very intelligent, very skilled man. Bo has spent the majority of his life tracking down people that have slipped through our fingers. It’s what he does. I’d be more surprised if you hadn’t lost him.”

“Exactly,” Jamal confirmed. “Do I wish you hadn’t lost him? Of course. Will we find him regardless? Of course.” He held out a hand. “In the meantime, let me see the note he left you.”

Jensen pulled the folded note from his pocket and handed it over.

“Bo wrote this?” Jamal asked.

“I think so. It’s signed like Mister Austen wrote it.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Well, it’s just… not his handwriting. It’s very shaky. Sloppy.”

“It just kinda looks like a guy wrote it,” Jensen said.

“My point exactly. Bo’s handwriting is very neat and tidy, almost like a computer wrote it. This is unfortunately very telling of his state of mind.” Jamal cleared his throat. “You said he was sober?”

“Well, he smelled sober. Maybe not showered or spritzed up with cologne, but I didn’t smell alcohol.” Jensen nodded toward the piece of paper in Jamal’s hand. “Do you have any idea what the hell he means?”

“About?”

“Kathy.”

Jamal seemed to read it over once more before sighing. “Katherine… has a habit of threatening to send ‘her people’ after someone she doesn’t like. Since she’s been imprisoned, it’s… sort of her go-to. I’ve heard it more than a time or two myself. I suppose she must be saying it to Bo, as well.”

“Why? He’s just a lab geek, right? And, I mean, he’s not even that anymore. Now he’s just… a dude.”

“I mean, he is a big part of why she’s in prison. She certainly hasn’t forgotten that.”

“She’s why she’s in prison. She harbored a fugitive and housed her children with a known serial killer,” Jensen said.

“Yes, but we wouldn’t have found her without Bo. I needed him for that, and he also testified against them in court.”

“So… she just drops all of her own responsibility to it and blames Mister Austen?”

“That’s kind of just… Yes. That’s what she does. It’s who she is. Katherine isn’t one who prefers to take ownership of the messes she has put herself in.”

“I-I don’t understand. Until she met Dallas, Kathy was great. I mean… yeah, maybe she didn’t make as much of an effort as she could have to see me, but she was busy working, and I was so far away, and…”

Jamal cleared his throat, turning away for a moment as he scratched the back of his neck. “Our perceived memories of people we care about are often less than honest. Katherine may not quite be the caring ‘Momma K’ you remember from your younger years, is all I’ll say.”

“That’s not ‘all you’ll say’. You can’t say something like that and then move the hell on with the conversation.”

“She made sure the strings I pulled were in her favor, that she was the one who adopted you. And then she dumped you on Chance and Mercedes the first chance she got and saw you, what, once a year? Generally plastered off her ass?”

Jensen’s brow furrowed before he shook his head. “No.”

“Right,” Jamal said, his voice soft. “Our brain is a self-protecting organ, Jensen. It does things to itself to protect us from what it’s seen and what it remembers. Your brain remembers Katherine as the detective who saved you from the worst nightmare of your life. It has gone to great measures to protect that memory.”

“Whatever.” Briefly, Jensen braced himself for whatever scolding would follow that particular comment, but it didn’t.

Instead, Jamal only nodded. “What Katherine does or doesn’t do isn’t important. The reality, no matter what she believes, is that she doesn’t have anyone walking around ready to kill people at her command. She’s just a middle-aged woman locked up in prison. Nothing more. Nothing less. Bo is safe from her. It’s himself we have to truly worry about. Which is why we’ll get him found, and we won’t let him lose us a second time. Okay?”

“Okay.”

11:57 PM; LOS ANGELES, DAVID QUINN’S HOUSE, LIVING ROOM

Bo grabbed his cell phone from David’s coffee table, brow furrowed. Bridget Decker’s name flashed at the top of his screen. He hadn’t spoken to Bridget since shortly after returning to Los Angeles post-Surgeon case. Her boyfriend had been pissed about her meeting ‘a fucking man’ at the airport and more or less forbade them from speaking again. Bo hated it, and hated him, but Bridget hadn’t been willing to listen to reason. Bo understood the psychology behind that, but it hadn’t made the clear-cut separation hurt any less. It hadn’t made him any less worried for her safety.

He glanced back at the kitchen to confirm David was still busy watching the popcorn in the microwave before accepting the call and pressing his phone to his ear. “Bridge?”

“Bo,” she whispered. “I need you.”

“What… what’s going on?”

“I need to leave him. I need to. Now. Right now. I need your help. I’m so sorry, Bo. You were right. Please. I’m so sorry.”

“H-hey, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, Bridge. I-I’m with David right now. I can bring David, a-and we can help. Okay?”

“I don’t want David to see me.”

Coldness settled in Bo’s bones. “I’ll kill him.”

“Bo,” she whispered. “It’s not bad. I-it could’ve been worse. But I don’t know Dave like I know you. I don’t want him to see me. Please.”

“I-I don’t have a car anymore. But I can have him wait outside.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Bo echoed. “Are you alone?”

“Yes. He’s on a booze run.”

“Okay. Stay on the phone with me. We’ll be there soon.”

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