Bannon had a headache. The two visitors displayed no emotion
and the woman in custody never raised her head. “You’re telling me that Miss
Blanck-whatever, is the granddaughter of Doestal and came back in time to give
her grandmother what she always wanted… to be a great novelist?”
“Yes,” the taller man replied. The woman nodded. “She used
to belong to our group and gone rogue for personal gain.”
“You three should be locked up.” Bannon stood up. “If you’re
‘time-cops,’ why didn’t you come back earlier and stop her?”
“Because we didn’t have a precise time until you called for
backup last night. I’m sorry for your partner.”
“But you can go back and stop it!”
“Impossible. It has to do with a divergence of world lines…”
“Now you’re getting all Steins;Gate on me? Next you’ll be
talking about John Titor and his time machine.” The two agents flinched
slightly. “Next up - Morlocks!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the shorter man finally spoke.
“And the cube?”
‘Tallman’ replied, “In her time, organs for transplants are
quite valuable. She found successful authors from class lists of her
grandmother, came here, then transferred the heart into the cube to return it
to her time. If she failed to send back a heart, her sponsors were, rather are, or in your case will be, quite persuasive in their means.”
Bannon's head throbbed. “Why didn’t the cube work
on me?”
“You aren’t an author. I mean you weren’t on the authors
list.” Tallman stood, “It’s time for us to go.”
“No, you’re not…” Bannon reached for his pistol but was
frozen. “Not again!”
Tallman placed Bannon’s pistol on the table. “This ability
to be aware during time-freeze is rare and to answer another question, your
hair-tingly happens when a time portal gateway is opened. This makes you… unique.”
Bannon was released.
“Ah, I like you, Bannon. We’ll be seeing you. Soon.”
“And don’t call us ‘time-cops’!” the short man called back
as the agents and prisoner stepped into a black slit in the room that
disappeared as if a zipper closed.
Bannon’s only consolation was his newfound knowledge of
annoying people in multiple centuries.
Detective Bannon sat in silence as the author, Amy Doestal,
told her story. Her tearful interview wasn’t really a confession but more of an
explanation of the past few years since first meeting her assistant, now
fugitive-cop-killer.
M Blanck came up to Doestal after a class, introduced
herself, and asked the author if she would agree to a proposition: Blanck would
ghost-write Doestal’s next novel and assist with promotion, publishing,
correspondence, and any other duties to make the novel a success. The first
manuscript was handed over in that meeting. Doestal agreed with Blanck after
reading the manuscript which was submitted to Watts & Company and became a
huge success. The newest manuscript was given to the author a couple weeks ago.
Doestal denied any involvement with the murders and did not
know Blanck until after the New Mexico murder. Bannon thought she was sincere
but the DA was charging her with accessory to murder, conspiracy to commit
murder, and a few other felonious crimes that Bannon didn’t care about. He
wanted Blanck.
Bannon sat at his desk, alone in thoughts. He already detailed
to the captain how he found Blanck over Junior’s body and he knew everyone now
thought him crazy. How could a black cube remove a heart? Being frozen in time
so he couldn’t help his partner? Why didn’t the cube remove his own heart?
Maybe he didn’t have a heart… People told him that, especially his ex-wife as he
drifted in memory to her words long ago, “You heartless son of a…”
“Bannon?” The clerk jarred the detective back to the
cacophony of the department. “You’re wanted in room four. Two guys, look like
Feds, want to talk to you.”
Feds. They had all the resources at their disposal and
rarely used them to help out a local department. “Why would they care about
Oldtown, anyway?”
Bannon hesitated at the door. “Something wasn’t right,”
he thought but opened the door anyway.
“Detective Bannon,” the taller man said. “Let me introduce
you to Michelle Blankenship.”
“Well, thank you for bringing
Ms. Blanck back to me,” Bannon replied. “These guys can’t be Feds,” he thought
as he shut the door behind himself.
“Here’s what we got, Cap’n,” Bannon began, “The assistant
gave us access to the appointment book and Doestal was at the capitol on the
day of the first victim, hosted a party during the second victim and was
teaching a class during the New Mexico murder years ago. Everything confirmed.
“I had Junior chat up the assistant while I interviewed
Doestal. Doestal seemed genuine to me. Certainly, no surgical skills to remove
a heart. I don’t think she’s bright enough to do this, Cap’n.”
Junior added, “Blanck, the assistant, was elusive when I
asked about her past and her relationship with Doestal.”
“Something was off about her, Cap’n,” Bannon said. “I asked
for a tracker, if you’ll okay that. Doestal may be involved, maybe not, but I
think Blanck is running it.”
“Done,” the captain replied. “You better be right this time.”
The detectives left the office as the captain ordered the
tracker. The rest of the day was spent digging into the past of the assistant.
They weren’t finding answers.
End-of-shift, Junior went home and Bannon stopped for a quick
dinner. In the middle of his third bite, he got the notice that the trackers
lost Blanck. He wasn’t far from Junior’s apartment and rushed over to pick him
up. As Bannon reached the building, he noticed the out-of-place car.
It was Blanck’s.
Calling for backup, he pulled his pistol and rushed to
Junior’s apartment, breaking the door to enter. There was Blanck on her knees
next to Junior’s prone body, holding a black cube to his chest.
“Freeze, B...” Bannon never finished his command. He stood
frozen with his pistol pointed into the room.
A blue light flashed between the cube and Junior. Satisfied,
Blanck calmly walked to Bannon to place the cube on his chest. She pulled the
trigger but nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing. In a panic, she fled
the apartment and Bannon collapsed to the floor and crawled to Junior but he
knew.
“Mike, why didn’t you…” Junior would never hear Bannon speak
his name.
Bannon’s rushed out of the apartment. Blanck’s car was there
as she disappeared down the dimly lit street.
“What d’ya got?” The captain was unusually surly this
morning. Junior had pulled an all-nighter trying to keep up with Bannon who
hadn’t rested in days. They were digging into the author, Doestal, and others crossing
her path over the past several years.
“Amy Doestal,” Bannon started, “the author, fifty-two, lives
in Hilldale for almost three years. Previously lived in ‘The Towers’ until her
first book was published. That’s quite a jump in living conditions, there...
Junior?”
“She’d been an instructor in creative writing classes for
continuing-education at the university. Wasn’t a professor on staff so none of
her classes earned credit. Colleagues say she seemed happy but became
frustrated with her own writing career, then suddenly quit as soon as she got
the contract with the publisher, Watts.”
“Donnie from the Feds…” Bannon brought up an email and read:
“Watts repeatedly rejected her submissions until a nearly perfect manuscript
three years ago.”
“How many rejections?” the captain asked.
“Almost forty. That perfect manuscript was submitted after
the New Mexico death. She submitted her latest manuscript two days after our
first victim here in Oldtown. Donnie reports they went ga-ga over it.”
The captain thought for a moment, “Your theory is she killed
our victims for their books?”
“That’s where we’re heading,” replied Bannon to the
skeptical captain. “She’s in a mediocre job trying to write the next great
novel, living in a low-end apartment, and a boat-load of debt. Suddenly, after dozens
of attempts, she hands in a perfect novel and hits it big. Then lightning
strikes again a few weeks ago – could happen – if someone is a great writer.
Maybe lightning struck the third time and she’s hanging onto it for a safe
amount of time.”
“Also interesting is that she also found a new
agent/publicist/assistant about the same time as the first novel,” Junior said.
“An M Blanck. We can’t find anything on her prior to that time.”
Arrangements were made to meet with Doestal the next day. This
was the only suspect that made sense, Bannon thought, and he could rest a
little after his shift was done.
“But, how did she steal the hearts?” interrupted his
sleep that night.
