Three Rivers Chapter 2

Before enjoying the story perhaps take a look at the first chapter of Three Rivers.

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Uniformed officers and plainclothes members of the TRPD moved busily about the station as Jeffrey and Alex waited inside the interview room. Jeffrey continually stared across the report room to the opposite side interrogation rooms. The mysterious stranger from the hospital was in the middle interrogation room, pacing around in a circle. There were questions that Jeffrey wanted to ask the stranger. Jeffrey knew the routine. Until Alex and he had given their statements, they were not going to be able to leave.

"Do you think the guys are alright?" asked Alex.

Jeffrey was so distracted by the stranger that he hadn't thought about his men for nearly two hours. He desperately wanted to know what went on when they stepped into the corridor outside the secure ward. The medics and the nurses claimed none of the injuries were life-threatening, but Jeffrey knew better. The kid on the mental health floor went through nearly a dozen trained men, men Jeffrey had recruited. How? The word kept echoing in his mind. How was it possible?

"We'll find out soon enough," answered Jeffrey, seeing one of the local officers coming toward the door.

Gabriel Alvarez walked into the interview room and threw a file on the table. He looked at Alex and nodded his head before turning to Jeffrey. The two shared a brief bro-hug. The tired detective motioned for Jeffrey to have a seat so he could start questioning the two members of the private security team.

"Gabe, about my guys..."

The detective looked up from his file, nodding his head again. He informed Jeffrey and Alex the rest of the team would make a full recovery.

"Your man Welles, his leg's broken in two places. Otherwise, they all are suffering from one serious ass beating and some bruised egos."

Jeffrey breathed a sigh of relief. Alex sat beside him, pounding his fist into his hand. Whatever it was that happened, they would all come out the other side of the ordeal.

"Thank you, Alvarez," said Alex.

Alvarez looked at Jeffrey, a puzzled look on his face. He was trying to figure out how one of the best operators in the special forces could get himself and his men beaten all to hell by a seventeen-year-old kid. Jeffrey had a complement of men under him that was the size of a small police department but well funded and better trained. Alvarez had known Jeffrey a long time. He knew his history, his accomplishments, and what he had done for the country. When he first got out of the military and relocated to Three Rivers, Alvarez saw Jeffrey handle some goons one night.

"Guys, what the hell happened?"

"Honestly, I wish I knew. When I went outside the security doors, everything was under control. The medical staff was injecting the kid with Thorazine. Nearly a dozen guys were holding him down," explained Jeffrey.

"And then what happened?"

"That's when we heard the commotion from the ward. We went back in to see what the noise was all about," Jeffrey continued.

Alvarez wrote down everything that Jeffrey told him, comparing it to the statements from some of the other witnesses. He looked up at Alex and asked if that sounded about right. When Alex nodded at the detective, Gabe put down his pen. Pulling out photos and laying them across the table for the two security specialists to view them, Alvarez asked them if the image in front of them was of the boy at the hospital. When they both nodded that it was the same kid they had dealt with in the psychiatric ward, Alvarez picked the pictures up and filed them away.

"Alright, gentlemen, you're free to go."

Alex looked at Alvarez in disbelief. How could they not at least answer some of their questions? Who was the mystery man that crashed the party? Why was he so afraid of the kid waking up?

"Free to go," said Jeffrey. "I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers of my own."

"It's a police matter. You and your guys need to leave this alone," instructed Alvarez.

Jeffrey looked out the window to the interrogation room and across at the mystery man. He looked back at Alvarez and reminded him that there weren't enough men out there to stop Jeffrey from getting to their mysterious guest. Then he sat down, stared tensely at Alvarez, and waited for him to start talking.

"I could lose my job for this, but I know what you're capable of," relented Alvarez as he reopened one of the files.

There had been no sign of Eric Lassiter since he disappeared from the hospital. Alvarez painted a pretty grim picture of their chances of finding him. It had already been two hours. It meant that Eric Lassiter slipped through the search perimeter and was past containment. What was worse would be who Eric Lassiter was. Eric Lassiter was the only son of Judge Daniel Lassiter.

"Jesus," Jeffrey exhaled, realizing the magnitude of who the kid was.

Judge Daniel Lassiter was capable of putting them all into retirement. He was a politically motivated and aggressive son of a bitch. The Lassiter family was at the center of power in Three Rivers. They always had been and always would. Hearing this, Jeffrey knew there was little chance the kid would ever do a day in prison for attacking his men. He wondered what other chaos the kid would cause before they found him and brought him into custody.

"I'm not sure we can. Judge Lassiters' wife has already been on the phone with the police commissioner. From what you guys described, the results of that call will make it hard to pick the kid up," explained Alvarez. "The orders have already trickled down from Mt. Olympus. The boy can't be hurt in the process of capturing him."

"Shit," said Alex. "How in the hell else are you going to stop him unless he surrenders?"

Alvarez looked at the two men, gritting his teeth. He couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"I have to answer to the brass. You don't," commented Alvarez. "If he were to stumble across a rambunctious civilian with the skills to take him down alive...they could always call the police."

Jeffrey looked at Alvarez with an understanding nod before asking him, "What about him?"

Alvarez looked at Jeffrey and Alex, grinning from ear to ear. The story about the mystery man was even more bizarre than the one about Eric Lassiter. Alvarez was surprised it took as long as it had for Jeffrey to inquire about the man.

"If you mean Luke Skywalker over there," said Alvarez, looking across the station, "His real name is Joeseph Morris, and he's been missing for three years according to Interpol and the London Police."

Jeffrey was surprised that the man would have popped up on Interpols' radar, much less the London police. If he was on their radar, Jeffrey imagined the feds couldn't be far from wanting a word with the mysterious Mr. Morris. Looking across the police station floor, Jeffrey wondered what made Joeseph Morris so special.

Jeffrey asked aloud, "What are you into?"

"Unfortunately," sighed Alvarez, "We may never know. Other than trespassing, we don't have anything to hold him on. His Attorney is on a plane heading this way as we speak. Until then, we can't even question him."

Alex and Jeffrey thanked Alvarez for filling them in on the story behind Joe Morris. While much of it remained a mystery, Jeffrey still had friends in higher places he could reach out to for help. Which was something he intended on doing. After thanking the detective, they left the station, flanked by two uniformed escorts making sure Jeffrey didn't make a run at their prisoner.

Outside the police station, Jeffrey looked at Alex, pulling out his phone. He knew Alex was curious about who he was calling. Alex would be better off knowing less. He told the younger officer to call and check on the guys that were injured. As Alex walked over to his Charger, Jeffrey stood there, his mind still working through the encounter with the Lassiter boy and what Alvarez shared with them. For Eric Lassiter to do even one day in prison would take a miracle. For the local cops to even try taking the kid into custody would take something even more impressive. Finally, his call went through.

"It's Mayes. I need a favor," he told the person on the other end. "I need you to pull some strings in Three Rivers. The local police are holding a man named Joe Morris for questioning."

"What do you want me to do?" asked the voice on the other side of the call.

"I want him to be released. Wait two hours and then work your magic," he instructed the man on the other end.

"Don't let this come back on me," the man replied.

Jeffrey laughed, "Don't worry, Senator, nothing will blow back onto your plate."

"Boss," said Alex as he walked toward Jeffrey. "Everyone is doing alright. The house supervisor will call you or me if anything changes or there are updates."

"Good, now go home and get some sleep," Jeffrey ordered.

"What are you going to do?"

Jeffrey was going to go back to his place to gather some things and change his clothes. After what everyone had gone through, the building was on lockdown, and the hospital was safe. Jeffrey had two hours to work with until Joe Morris would walk out of the police station. Then he could find out everything he wanted to know about the mysterious Mr. Morris. He looked at Alex, appreciating what the kid was willing to do for him.

Alex was rambunctious, longing for excitement and adventure. He would follow Jeffrey, probably further than he should. Jeffrey had no doubts about his abilities. Jeffrey didn't want anyone following him right now.

"Something you don't want to know about," answered Jeffrey.

Later, when Jeffrey arrived back home, he was surprised to see Sue waiting for him. Sue went to him, wrapping her arms around him as she squeezed him tightly. She heard about the melee in the mental ward. Truthfully, Sue was worried about how he was handling things.

"Are you alright?"

Jeffrey sat on the black leather sofa in the center of the room. The look etched on his face told the story. As much as Sue meant to him, he wasn't there. She knew the blank look on his face and knew it well. She saw that look in herself, often in the mirror.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

Jeffrey told her about Joe Morris, how he appeared from nowhere, how he knew about Eric Lassiter, and what he said about the boy. He sat there staring at the ground. As openly as Sue and his discussions were, this was not something that they'd be able to talk about any time soon. Sue wasn't like him. She didn't understand the world the way he did.

"I need to change clothes," said Jeffrey. "Then I'm going to go check on my guys."

Sue detected Jeffrey's hidden subtext. Now was not a time for her to be there. He wasn't going to open up about what happened. Not today anyway. Instead, he was going to carry his angst about it until he could do something about what happened. Jeffrey didn't do well being powerless. Eric Lassiters' outburst left him at the mercy of the kids' insane strength. Losing to one of the "bad guys" wasn't in his vocabulary until today.

"I can see you're determined to go off half-cocked and do something stupid," she told him, picking up her purse.

"What happened today was impossible. There's no articulable way to explain what that kid could do," explained Jeffrey.

Sue walked to the door to his apartment, convinced there was nothing else that she could say to him. As she got to the door, turning to look back at him, she told him, "After all the things you've admitted to, please don't get yourself killed."

The door slammed as Sue left his apartment. As soon as she left, Jeffrey went to his bedroom closet. He pushed the hanging clothes aside to reveal a sliding door. Pressing the keys on an electronic lock, he entered a code that opened the door, revealing another room.

Behind the closet and in a white room, Jeffrey had an office. The desk on one side had a computer system, three monitors, and a large screen on the wall. Around the room, there were various pieces of gear. Next to his desk, Jeffrey had a rack with mounted rifles. Each rifle was kept ready to use. There was a Chey Tac Intervention, a fifty-caliber Barret M82, an SR-25, and an M24. Below them were three AR-15s, two MP5's, and two M4 assault rifles. The wall next to that had ten pistols hanging, two compound bows, quivers with arrows, and six cases of magazines, already loaded.

Jeffrey looked at his watch. He had one hour until the police released Joe Morris. Pulling out a satellite phone, Jeffrey dialed a number to a contact he maintained in Tangiers. Luco was a scoundrel but had a moral code. He was also able to get information from Interpol, the kind of information the local cops could never get their hands on. If there were anybody that could get him a history on Joe Morris, it was Luco.

"How's Tangiers, my old friend?"

Luco's laughter in Jeffrey's ear was how his old friend told him to get to the point of the call. Luco was Jeffrey's friend, but he never stayed on the phone for more than a few minutes at a time.

"When are you coming back to the game, old buddy? I could use a man of your skills," said Luco.

"Forget all that. I need you to run a background on someone. A missing person named Joe Morris. Interpol and the London Police reported him missing," explained Jeffrey. "Oh, and Luco, I need it done as soon as possible."

"Should I send it to the same email account?"

"The secure account," answered Jeffrey.

"Alright, my old friend. But you have to make the trip here one day. The wife and kids would love to see you again."

The line went dead.

Jeffrey punched in codes on his computer, accessing a network through the NSA. His old passwords would register in the system. He used a ghost password given to him by an operations agent he only knew as "Smith." Jeffrey accessed a satellite feed that he redirected over Three Rivers, giving him a birdseye view of the Three Rivers Police Headquarters. If the mysterious Mr. Morris did lose him, he could use the coverage to find him again.

Setting his computer to record, Jeffrey grabbed a duffel bag off his workbench. Slipping through the secret entrance, Jeffrey changed his shirt and headed out to his Explorer.

Eric Lassiter walked along the Colorado River. He was staying out of sight because of all the patrol cars. Eric heard a voice coming from within. A deep and creepy voice echoed in his ears. Eric walked along the river arguing with the voice in his head. The things he did, the people he hurt, he remembered them all.

Eric felt an unbelievable thirst inside himself. His insides were on fire. So thirsty he felt as if death was on his heels, Eric fell over just as he reached one of the many parks in Three Rivers.

"What do I do?" he struggled to ask the voice from his head.

"It's a river, boy! Drink!" bellowed the voice, its echo almost burning his ears.

He stumbled over to the edge of the water, dropping to his knees along the shore. Eric bent over, taking in a copious amount of the normally silt-laden waters of the river. The water was beautiful. It was not without contaminants after the wildfires that ravaged the area. Eric cupped his hands and let the river fill them with its coolness. He continued to drink. He drank, and he drank until he was satiated.

"This will never do," the voice in his head scarily announced. "Your body is too frail. You're not strong enough."

Eric felt the weakness inside him give way to something pulling at his lifeforce. Soon, he was no longer in control. He could see himself stumbling away from the river. The lights were getting brighter. As he got close to the river, he could see people. He tried to yell at them, to beg them for help. His words went unheard, as they were only in his head.

He walked along the road for a couple of miles, always scouting out the terrain. Making it nearly into the downtown area, Eric spotted a woman in the parking lot of a liquor store. The store looked closed. All of the lights inside were dark. He heard the voice inside him chuckle. It commented how she would do for a while. Eric screamed at her to run. Again, his words went unnoticed.

"It's sweet that you're trying to warn her. You can yell and scream all you want."

"Don't do this," Eric begged as he watched himself getting closer to her.

Eric stayed in the darkness. He crept around the front of the car as the owner fumbled around in her trunk. Watching the girl, Eric thought about how pretty she was. He begged the voice in his head to stop. Eric didn't want to see anyone else get hurt. He tried to stop, to take control of his body back, but failed. He stealthily crept toward the back of the car and to the young girl he would never see again.

"Please, don't do this," Eric pleaded.

A guttural roar filled the neighborhood around Jane and Edge streets. It carried for thirty-plus blocks. In the parking lot of the liquor store, Eric was down on the pavement and unconscious. The girl drove away from the liquor store. She acted like nothing out of the ordinary happened.