Tortured Dreams

I arrived at the apartment building to find a comedy of errors in progress. Nyleena, Lucas, Xavier, a tall man with long black hair and several uniformed police officers were arguing with men in delivery uniforms. My furniture was all sitting on the sidewalk. My suitcases and Rubbermaid containers were with them.

  It was a secure building, with secure parking. I had been in the parking garage before, but this was the first time I had an actual parking space instead of just putting my car in the generic visitor’s spots. The gate man took my ID and looked over it. While he checked out a list, my ID still in his hands, another walked around my car.

  Bomb search complete, I continued into the garage and heard the heavy iron bars that kept out unwanted visitors close. The mechanisms whined and whirred and then clanked as they slid into place. To exit the garage, I had to either enter the building or have one of the guards open the secure pedestrian door. The guard gave me a tight smile as he opened the secure door.

  It opened onto the street. I took a moment to take in the sights and sounds of Kansas City. It wasn’t Seattle. It wasn’t as damp. It also wasn’t as climate controlled, but I was used to screwy Missouri weather. I returned to the group on the street. They were still arguing.

  “Problems?” I asked as I walked up.

  The man with black hair turned to look at me, “yes, these fucking idiots don’t get that they can’t go up and deliver the furniture themselves. It has to be delivered by someone with clearance. And they don’t have it.”

  The man was well over seven foot tall. He had dark skin, dark eyes, hair at least a foot and a half in length. If I had to guess, I’d say he was pure Native American. His voice was deep and rich. He had a slight draw to it like he grew up in the southwest.

  “Great,” I rolled my eyes. “So how do you intend to get the furniture inside if the furniture movers don’t do it?”

  “Listen, we got a couple of strong backed guys here, we’ll get it up. Go visit whoever you came to visit and let us get on our way.”

  “Well, I would, but that’s my furniture,” I told the guy.

  “You’re Aislinn Cain, PhD?” He said the last like it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  “I am and you are?” I asked.

  “Your boss, Alejandro Gui.”

  “Gui?” I frowned.

  “It was either that or Running Wolf and that just doesn’t work on federal forms very well. You may call me Alejandro.”

  “All right, Alejandro. Grab a bookcase and let’s get this show on the road. I don’t have all day and it looks like rain.”

  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but my knee felt like someone had shoved a dagger into it. Good sign it was going to rain. I didn’t limp, but I wanted to as I grabbed a suitcase.

  “Go, shoo, we got it from here,” I handed the delivery guys a twenty a piece and motioned them off. They grumbled at me, but kept the money and left.

  “Problem solved,” I turned to the doorman, who was really a trained Navy SEAL who had gotten stuck with this job for two years. I had met him once before. I showed him my new ID badge. He frowned and let me in.

  I didn’t wait around to see if the others were following. It was one of those things. I knew they would, furniture in hand. I was that sort of person.

  Nyleena pulled a Rubbermaid container into the elevator. The doors swooshed closed and we started upwards.

  “Bossing around your boss on the day you meet him is probably not a good idea,” she said as the numbers moved by.

  “He isn’t my boss for very long. I have every intention of helping them out and then getting a job at a university or something.”

  “So you can attract nut jobs in college. Good plan.”

  “It’s good to have goals,” I told her. The elevator opened as she snickered. I found the door labeled 2020 and opened it with the keys. Each door had a microchip in it that disabled an alarm system as well as worked an electronic deadbolt.

  The door opened with the slightest touch once all the safety locks had been disabled. The apartment had a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, a bathroom and two bedrooms. I didn’t know what I would do with the extra bedroom. I didn’t own a TV; my books would be in the living room instead.

  “Damn,” I looked at Nyleena who put the Rubbermaid container on the floor, out of the way.

  “What?” She asked.

  “I forgot to buy a dresser.”

  “I have an extra one upstairs you can borrow for now. I have no desire to go through the delivery man routine again.”

  “Ok,” I put the suitcases in the extra bedroom.

  “How long will it take you to unpack once everything is here?”

  “Six, seven weeks,” I told her.

  “How about we do it all today and then go to dinner?”

  “Where?” I asked.

  “Somewhere with Thai food,” she suggested.

  “Ok,” I was going to say something else, but my couch suddenly arrived. Lucas and Alejandro were carrying it. Behind them, a uniformed officer was helping Xavier with part of the bed.

  “Bed in there. Couch there,” I pointed at the places I wanted them to go.

  I ordered the men to and fro with my furniture. It was all carried up, piece by piece, using the freight elevator. It only took an hour and a half to get it all upstairs.

  As the last piece was set, everyone excused themselves except Alejandro. He sat on the couch and stared at me. I took a spot in a recliner.

  “What?” I asked after a moment.

  “I’m guessing Lucas and Xavier filled you in on the details of the case.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, now I’ll fill you in on the rest of it. If we find you useful in the field, you’ll be offered a job. We need a woman who can take care of herself. More importantly, we need a woman who isn’t going to flinch when she sees a serial killer at his worst. I think you will do nicely. Your name has already been put on the list to get into the FG Neighborhood. With your new credentials, you have full access to any prisoner in The Fortress. You’ll be expected to do some research on it and the prisoners inside. Knowledge is power. You will have access to your brother. He’s been helpful in the past when we’ve come up against mass murderers that don’t fit the psychological profile of someone who kills for fun or sexual gratification. You’ll be required to pass a fire arms test.”

  “Can do, my friend Malachi has taught me to use a gun. So this consulting thing is a trial run?”

  “Trial by fire,” Alejandro stood up. “You’ll get your badge in a few days. Tomorrow, you’ll report for your first fire arms training. We have a nondescript building in the warehouse district. Here’s the address.”

  He handed me a business card with an address and nothing else on it. He left. Nyleena came back about 10 minutes later.

  “Were you watching?” I asked.

  “Something like that. Now, we unpack your books and clothes and go to dinner.”

  Chapter 11