Chapter 45: And Justice for All

Any second thoughts I might have had before vanished as we made our way through the dreams of the two men. Jamie was really good at planting little bits and pieces to trigger the memories we wanted to see.

I can't say it was good news because a part of me really hoped he wasn't, but Charles was involved, very involved. In fact, he was the one Andrews answered to, the one who had given the order for him to arrange for an inmate to kill his new cellmate. Amazing what you can buy with two cartons of cigarettes and an alibi these days. Charles had approved the plan for Andrews to then go to the dead man's house and slaughter his family. An image of the mother's body had been all it took to get what we wanted there.

"Just do it," Charles had told him. "Nothing fancy, in and out, make it look like the mother killed them and then committed suicide."

Andrews had been disappointed, "You mean I can't..."

"No you can't fuck them first!" Charles said sternly. "Damn it, Andrews, we can't control who does the autopsy, and if they find fresh evidence they'll be suspicious."

"But they already know he was..."

"He's been in jail too long for there to be anything left. No, quick and clean for both of the girls and a single thrust for the mother. I understand that you are disappointed, but Lord Hightower was adamant, appearances are critical on this one. He promised to make it up to you and you know he always keeps his promises."

It only took a little more prompting to discover that Phoebe was to be his compensation. He'd waited a long time for this and he was really looking forward to meeting the little runaway.

After waiting so long, all it had taken was a photograph. He had been promised that once they had her, he could do whatever he wanted with her before she died. Andrews' idea of fun was right up there with Essex's. Only in his case it wasn't just a fantasy. Essex may have dreamed of fucking some helpless little girl to death, but Andrews had actually done it, twice. His fondest memories involved the spasming of a girl's muscles as he sliced her throat while still buried inside of her.

Lord Hightower was a generous man, and he always kept his promises.

It also turned out that Detective Charles had personally set the fire that killed Phoebe's cousins because Andrews didn't have the patience for that sort of job. He had very clear memories of how he had not so carefully taped plastic bags over the smoke detectors before starting the fire. The sloppy job was to make it look like an amateur had done it. He had left the metal ladder under the last one so the investigators would be sure to inspect them early in the investigation. Arson needed to be established as quickly as possible to implicate the missing girl and even though the ladder had melted, a trained investigator would have no problem telling what it was.

It hadn't taken long to get the truth. Jamie really is a bad girl when you piss her off, and she was really, really pissed at these two. We had learned a few other things along the way. One was all we really needed for our purposes; turned out Andrews was afraid of spiders.

Detective Nicholas Charles was awakened suddenly by a man's scream. Sitting up in bed he heard the unmistakable sounds of his partner thrashing around trying to extricate himself from the sheets which entangled him. What he wasn't ready for was the way the man was slapping at himself; he appeared to be trying to knock something off. If he could have seen what Andrews saw he would have understood.

Carl Andrews stood over the sleeping form of thirteen year old Bethany Martinson. In one gloved hand he held an eight-inch boning knife that had been honed to a razor's edge. A latex veterinarian's exam glove covered his hand and arm past the elbow, insuring that none of the blood would touch his clothing. He regretted the necessity of the gloves; he liked the feel of warm blood on his skin, he always had. Looking down at the sleeping girl he was once more disappointed that he couldn't have a little fun with her first, but he understood the need that everything appeared a certain way. Lord Hightower had promised to compensate him for his loss. It wasn't necessary, as Andrews would never have considered taking the chance of evoking his Lordship's displeasure, but it was a comforting thought none the less.

They had asked for a quick, clean job and Andrews took great pride in his abilities. So much so that he was disappointed when the first girl flinched at the touch of the knife, causing the skin to pull and the cut to come out a little jagged and uneven, he would do better this time. Very carefully he held the blade at a shallow angle above the sleeping girl's throat and in one swift movement drew a line across the white skin. Yes! This was the part he liked, a nice clean cut, so fine it was practically invisible. Soon the blood would begin to seep past the edges, a hair-fine line of crimson against the whiteness of her pale skin. Inside the blood would be seeping into her windpipe and then the coughing would start as her lungs tried to clear the intruding fluid. Blood made the prettiest bubbles. He waited in eager anticipation of that first bit of color. Seconds passed and nothing happened. A few moments more and finally something happened, but it was wrong.

Instead of a fine red line stretching smoothly across her throat, a small black something poked through the surface. Then another a little bit further away, these were followed quickly by more and then her throat seemed to explode as hundreds of hairy black legs erupted from the rapidly widening gash.

Dropping the knife Andrews threw himself away from the bed as thousands of spiders scrambled out of the girl's body and rushed across the white sheets toward him. Hundreds ran in a line down the bed as others flowed over the side in a black wave. Scooping up the fallen knife Andrews bolted for the hallway, slamming the door behind him and heading for the master suite, where the girls' mother waited. But when he opened the door, she wasn't there. In a panic Andrews crossed the room to see if she was hiding in the bathroom. A sight out of hell greeted him as he opened the door.

Surrounded in a lacework of white webbing, the face was that of the woman, but the body was a thing of nightmare. A blackened bulbous shape with eight massive legs shifting to keep it upright as it skittered towards him. As it came, a cold, sibilant voice hissed, "You killed my babiessss."

Andrews tried to slam the door but two black legs as thick as his arm shot through to keep it open. Slamming his shoulder against the door did no good and the door was slowly forced open despite his efforts. In desperation he drove the knife through one leg, pinning it to the door jam and turned to flee. The nightmare deepened when he reached the hallway and found the white walls, floor, and ceiling, black with the advancing wave of tiny black bodies, effectively cutting him off from the staircase. In desperation he jumped over the railing, risking the fall to win his freedom. He had only fallen a few feet when he felt the sticky strands begin to tickle at his body as they tore beneath his weight. But the web grew denser as he sank further into it, finally stopping his descent a scant two feet above the floor. He tried to tear the webbing loose but the harder he tried the more it clung to him. Try as he might, he could not tear himself through to the safety and freedom he could see so close nearby. Glancing behind him he saw the first wave of black bodies scurrying across the web-lines toward him. Behind them, on the upstairs landing the bloated black shape of the mother looked on with glee as the tiny shapes of her children began to crawl over his shoes and disappear up the legs of his trousers.

Carl Andrews screamed in fear as he thrashed wildly to free himself from the entangling mass; swatting at his arms, legs, and torso in an attempt to dislodge the thousands of hairy little horrors crawling and biting all over his flesh. Finally, the adrenaline surging through his body woke him up and he realized it wasn't webbing that entangled him but bed sheets. With a violent effort he tore himself free, crashing against the wall of the hotel room.

"Andrews!" Charles screamed, sitting up on the bed and flinging his own covers aside. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Andrews screamed again, this time in horror, as the huge black shape climbed free of the covers on the other bed. The smaller shapes were already running off the near bed in pursuit of their recently escaped meal. Tearing open the nightstand he pulled his revolver from its holster and fired at the huge hairy shape now crossing the space between the beds. The echo of the thirty-eight reverberated around the small room but the black body barely hesitated before resuming its march toward him. Again and again he fired, until it finally fell as the gun clicked at last on the first empty cylinder. Pain pulled his attention back to the black wave chewing its way up his legs and torso, tiny red welts already forming in their wake. He could feel the toxins flooding his bloodstream, knew that paralysis and death would not be far behind. He had to get away. Swatting weakly at the leading edge of the swarming mass he lurched toward the door, but his legs wouldn't respond and he overbalanced, falling heavily to the floor.

Fingers straining for a grip on the carpeting he tried desperately to claw his way to the door. Bloody trails formed where his fingernails ripped out and still he tried to get away. He could feel tiny claws on his back and he flung himself over in an attempt to crush them against the floor.

He felt his muscles beginning to lock as the poison spread and within moments he could only watch as the tiny shapes swarmed over him, biting and stinging as they came. Then they were on his face, in his eyes, ears, nose, and finally in his mouth, hundreds of them trying to force their way into his mouth, cutting off his air supply.

Carl Andrews, veteran officer of the Las Vegas Police department died alone in the darkness of his hotel room. Eight feet away, the thick carpeting was doing it's best to soak up the spreading pool of blood surrounding the body of his partner, detective Nick Charles.

The mind is powerful tool.

Carl Andrews so believed that he was being bitten and stung by spiders that tiny red welts had actually formed all over his body. The medical examiner at first assumed that they were what they appeared to be, bug bites, but closer examination showed no signs of trauma, no matter how minute, to the skin, and toxicology revealed no hint of any foreign substances in his blood. The autopsy showed he had died of suffocation, so convinced that his air was cut off that his own muscles had constricted to close his windpipe. More than anything else the symptoms resembled those of a drowning victim, the body's automatic defenses closing to prevent the intrusion of water into the lungs. It was one for the books, to be sure. What had caused a trained police officer to flip out, gun down his partner, and then just drop dead for no apparent reason? They may never know.

But I would know.

I had forced myself to watch the whole thing. I could have just left and let Jamie take care of it, but I felt it was important that I not run away from what was happening, what we were doing. And this time there was no one else to blame; I had blamed the bank on Jamie, or the thing that later became Jamie. I couldn't do that this time, and wouldn't have wanted to if I could. No, Jamie might have played a big part, the biggest part actually, but it was my decision to kill these two men, and I refused to run away from that fact.

When it was over I knew that Lizzy had been right, and that I had lost something; something that I could never get back. Fortunately, Jamie was there, and she took a lot of the strain; I didn't feel guilty for what we did. I didn't even need her to remind me what I was saving Roxy from. These two deserved to die, needed to die, and no one else could or would do it. I didn't regret doing it; I regretted needing to do it.

Most of all, I regretted losing that piece of myself that had died with them.

"It's done," I said simply when we arrived back in the cabana where the girls were waiting for us.

Allison didn't say anything, just hugged me. Her cheeks were wet when she pulled back. She wiped her eyes and then turned and hugged Jamie.

"Thank you," she whispered, kissing Jamie's cheek. "Thank you for being there to help him."

"You don't need to thank me, Allison; I didn't do it for him. I did it for the same reason he did, because it had to be done and no one else would do it. The only difference is that I enjoyed doing it. I just wish I could have figured out a way to make them suffer more first. I hope that doesn't bother you too much?"

"A girl after my own heart," Allison answered. "No amount of suffering would have been enough, so whatever you could do will have to do. Come on, let's go play with the dolphins, these two are going to need to talk."

"You just want to see me in my bathing suit."

"Uh-huh, and maybe out of it. Is that a problem?"

Then they were gone and I was alone with Lizzy, who had been sitting quietly in the little sunken pool with her feet dangling in the warm water. I sat down beside her and she hugged herself to my side, kissing my shoulder as she did.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said softly. "You were right."

"I know."

"I didn't really feel it, but I knew when it happened."

"Then it didn't hurt?"

"Not at the time, but it hurts now to think about it."

"It will pass," she said, fingers stroking my hair lightly. "Try not to think about it too much. When you do, don't think about the loss, just remember why it happened, and be proud that you were able to face it. Not everyone can. Some never do. Most people have their innocence taken from them, and then they are forced to deal with it. That's how it happened with me. It's a rare person that can stand up and walk away from their innocence; that can give it up because something has to be done and it's in the way. I know it sounds backward, and I know you won't feel the same way, but I'm very proud of you."

"What about Jamie?"

She looked at me quizzically, "Jamie? What about Jamie?"

"Is she okay? I know what I lost. I know that something has changed in me; what about her?"

"She's fine. What you lost -- or more correctly, what you gave away, she never had. You could almost say this is what she was born to do. It was your sense of justice that made it so hard for you to deal with all the things you pushed into her little box, and those are the things that shaped her. This was justice for her, she really was happy to do it. Happy that she could be there to do it so you didn't have to. She is proud to be this part of you. You don't think she's evil because she enjoyed it, do you?"

"No, of course not," I answered. "I know all that, it's just hard sometimes to accept. I don't think of her that way, I think of her..."

"As a person," she said, finishing the thought and making it clear that she understood what I was trying to say. "You don't think of her as just a part of yourself, you think of her as a person. That's why you offered to let her meet your parents, because people should know their parents."

"Yeah."

"Jimmy, there is nothing wrong with thinking or even treating, her that way, but in the end, she is still a part of you. That's why she can't stay away for long, although that seems to be getting better with practice. You could live without her, Jimmy. You wouldn't like it, and you would always feel the loss of her, but you could. The same is not true for her. She will die without you."

"Does she know that?"

"Yes, I do," Jamie said. "Sorry, didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it's been a big night and I was getting tired. I know I can't live without you, Jimmy, but that's okay because there is no one I would rather be with. So you're stuck with me."

"You shouldn't be tired; we've been together all, well, most of the night, especially the last part."

"I don't know why, I was just feeling tired."

"I guess you got your answer?" Lizzy said.

"Yeah. Sorry to ignore you like that. You saw her come back. What's it like, seeing us split and merge like that?"

"Different is about the only way I can describe it. You're a complete pattern; she is too, but hers isn't as complex as yours. When you merge it's like you are somehow 'more' complete. But you don't seem less complete when she leaves." She shook her head, "That doesn't make any sense does it?"

"Not really, no. It doesn't matter though, as long as she's okay, that's all that matters." I raised my voice a little, "Allison, it's okay; you can come back if you want."

The door opened and she walked in shaking her head. "I was afraid of walking in on the two of you ... you know."

"You don't need to worry about that," Lizzy said. "You wouldn't walk in on us unless we wanted you to."

Allison looked at her strangely for a second then moved on. "So you're okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," I answered taking a deep breath and letting it out in a relaxing sigh, "I'm okay. It's not like there was a choice. Not one that I could accept anyway. Now Roxy will be safe, and those two will never hurt anyone again."

"So Charles was involved?"

"Andrews answered to Charles, and Charles answered directly to Lord Hightower. I need to look closer at that information Rebecca put together on the church. Now that I think of it I seem to remember seeing his name in there somewhere." I reached behind me, pulled the file folder off my desk, and opened it. "That's interesting."

"What?" Allison asked, rushing to sit next to me so she could see.

Lizzy was already reading over my other shoulder and answered, "There is a Nicholas Charles listed as a member of the church board, and look at whom else is listed."

There were twelve members of the board. Most of the names I recognized from our various trips around the dream world and from our visit to Dr. Hendricks.

"Interesting," Allison said. "I don't see a single name I recognize that we haven't already confirmed as a voluntary player. Two I don't know, but none of the rest is being coerced. I think we're on to something. Do you think one of them may hold the key to where the blackmail information for people like Hendricks and Jasmine is being kept?"

"I doubt it. I think that is something Hightower controls himself. It would give any of them too much power if they had access to it. They might use it against him. I think that's something we should work on finding out, but not tonight. I'm finished for tonight. I'm just going to lie here," I transferred us all, warm and dry, to the big bed, "wrapped in the arms of my two favorite women in the world. Actually, counting Jamie, that makes three."

We snuggled in close together and before I knew it, my alarm was going off and it was time to start the day. As I climbed out of bed I saw the note I had left myself and realized two things, I hadn't gotten to talk to Rebecca, and we had all forgotten about Amy again. Rebecca I could understand; chances are she hadn't been available until after Jamie and I went off to do our community service, and when we got back we hadn't really been receptive, probably blocking her out so she couldn't get through. But once again, there was no explanation for Amy. We had planned to do something with her, had even called Lizzy and asked her to remind us and still, we all completely forgotten about her. Weird didn't begin to cover it, but then, we were talking about Amy.