After talking to Xander, Kate called Buffy, who said she was heading out to work. Kate told Buffy to meet her at the small park across from the school near the center of town. They met on a park bench. "Buffy, do you have any idea why Warren targeted you?"
"He hated women, I guess."
"Yes, but there are more that 16,000 women in this town, and he came specifically after you."
"I guess he just had it in for me."
"Because you're the Slayer?"
Buffy played dumb. "I don't know what your talking about."
"You're a lousy liar."
"How do you know all this? What are you?"
"You think Sunnydale is the only town in California with vampires? I've staked one or two myself." Buffy sat to Kate's right. She looked at her neck, and saw a small, crescent-shaped scar.
"You've been bit."
Now Kate was the one who got nervous. "Just a scratch. So what I'm figuring is you, being the ever-vigilant night watchwoman of this little hamlet, foiled Warren's plans. So he takes revenge."
"Why do I get the feeling you already know the answer to every question you ask?," Buffy wondered.
"Because you never give me a straight answer. Try telling the truth and this will go a whole lot quicker. You think I can't handle the truth?"
"Truthfully? No, I don't think you can."
"You'd be shocked to learn what I can handle. Did Warren use magic to try to pull off his big score? Let's hear you answer one for a change."
Buffy decided to stop evading. At least for this one. "Yes. Yes he did."
"Now that wasn't so hard, was it Buffy? How bout we try another one? In the autumn of 2001, there was a robbery at a museum in this town. A big jewel was stolen. Was that Warren and his little helpers?"
Buffy laughed. Something about Andrew and Jonathan being referred to as "little helpers" struck her as amusing. "I believe it was."
"Now robbing a museum for an artifact with powerful magical properties is not unheard of. (Kate was throwing in personal references Buffy had no chance of understanding.) I know they didn't fence the jewel, cause they're amateurs, and amateurs trying to unload something that valuable always get caught. So what did they use the jewel for?"
Buffy decided to see if Kate really could handle the truth. "To build an invisibility ray gun. Made anything it shot disappear."
Kate paused. "I see I'm not the only smartass here."
"No. I'm serious. What's the matter? More than you can handle?"
"So they made themselves invisible and went on a crime spree?"
"Actually I destroyed the gun before they could do that."
"How convenient. Would this be part of your role as Warren's bete noire?" Buffy looked confused. "His nemesis."
"Oh, right. Of course. To be honest, calling me their nemesis demeans me, since it implies they were my equals."
"Sorry. Forgot you're used to fighting immortals."
"Yes, and it is a vital but thankless job for which I don't get paid. So right now I have to go do a far, far less vital job which actually pays the bills." Buffy stood up and walked away. Kate followed her. She stood on Buffy's right, and looked at that side of her neck.
"I see you've also been bitten. Battle scar?" Of course, Buffy knew nothing about Kate. She didn't know Kate was with the LAPD, or that she knew Angel, or that she was bitten by Angel. Kate didn't know anything about Angel's past, so she didn't know about Buffy and Angel.
"Something like that," Buffy responded nervously. Right then Spike approached. Buffy looked even more nervous.
"Who's the bird, pet? You make a new friend?," Spike asked playfully.
"She's with the state police," Buffy answered.
"I'm investigating the attack on Buffy which occurred last May."
Spike looked shocked and terrified. He thought she meant his attempted rape. "I don't believe this! First you say you forgive me, and now you're pressing charges?" Kate appeared confused.
"Spike, she's investigating Warren. You know, the guy who shot me."
Spike breathed a sigh of relief. "By the way, I was out of town when that occurred. And I can prove it. I have alibi witnesses. So no reason to bother with me, constable."
Kate looked at Spike and smirked. "You appear to have a very guilty conscience. Five minutes alone with you and who knows what you'd confess to me. But I have better things to do with my time. Spike - is that your first or your last name?"
"It's just Spike."
"So you're one of those mysterious pretty-boy prima donnas who goes by a single, short, evocative name. I'm all too familiar with your type." Of course, she was referring to Angel. If only she'd known how on the mark this comparison was. Spike was freaked-out by the insightful blonde lady and retreated back to the Magic Box. Kate vaguely reminded him of Darla, who also had a sharp tongue and didn't think much of Spike.
Kate continued walking with Buffy. "One more question. The hospital says you entered with one friend, and left with two. I assume the first friend was Xander. Who was the second?"
Buffy decided it wasn't worth lying in this particular instance. "It was Willow."
"Buffy, I'm going to tell you something I shouldn't. For me to reveal classified case information is improper and unethical. So you have to promise me what I tell you stays between the two of us."
"Don't worry about me. I've become very good at keeping secrets."
"Earlier this week, the body of Warren Mears was discovered. Actually, remnants of him were discovered. Evidently, something blew him to bits. The county coroner concluded he was making a bomb and it exploded prematurely. The local police are happy to have one less fugitive to hunt down. But some of them weren't convinced of the cause of death. That's why I was brought in. I'm telling the DA that I see no reason to object to the coroner's findings. Case closed. Sorry to have been such a bother these past two days."
Buffy couldn't completely conceal her relief, which she expressed in the form of profuse flattery. "Hey, we're cool. You were just doing your job. I understand that. And you weren't a bother. Thanks. Best of luck. Keep up the good work."
"You too," Kate responded. She walked to her unmarked car and drove away. She had other places to go, other cases to solve. As she watched Kate leave, Buffy almost missed her. Kate was the first cop she met who had a clue. Kate was smart, quick with a comeback. She knew about vampires. She knew Buffy was the Slayer. It was exceedingly rare for Buffy to meet someone who understood her world.
A few nights later, Willow received an email from Patrick Gugan. "Come on by. I got something to show you. Bring Buffy." It had been more than a week since they had heard from him. Maybe he had another discovery, or another report from the Counter-Council. The two of them went over. Patrick's door was ajar. They entered. They saw Patrick sitting in his desk chair, facing the door. His arms hung limp. He was lifeless. There were two holes in his neck. Buffy gasped.
"No, no. This can't be happening. It just can't," Willow said. She slowly moved towards the body. She looked into his eyes. She studied his face. It was Patrick. And he was dead. She turned around and walked to the wall. After about 20 seconds of silence she started crying. Buffy couldn't quite believe it either. She turned away after a few seconds. Every corpse she saw reminded her of Joyce. To see the lifeless body of someone she knew was especially painful. She called the police, and tried to think of how this could happen. Patrick wouldn't invite a vampire into his home. And when he was out at night he was careful. He knew how to protect himself.
When asked how he died, Buffy told the dispatcher Patrick was murdered. They sent over a forensic detective, who provided Buffy and Willow with some revealing clues. "He's been dead at least a week. Evidence of freezer burn. The vic was frozen. Bled to death, and then frozen post mortem. Body was then brought back here so it could be discovered. We're dusting for fingerprints, looking for hair and skin samples to try to find out anything on the person or persons who brought the body back here. Appears they busted up some stuff to try to make it look like a robbery. But the only valuables they took were this computer's hard drive. Whoever did this was a pro. They were very meticulous. Did Patrick have any enemies?"
"None I know of. Not by name, anyway," Willow said.
"And how did you two know the deceased?"
"He was my teacher," Willow replied. "Last semester. We've hung out a few times since then."
"And he sent you an email, from his address, dated tonight?"
"Yes. A couple hours ago."
"So the perp knew that you knew Mr. Gugan. And he wanted you to find the body. Can you think of anyone who would know the both of you and want to harm Patrick?"
"No. I didn't know his other friends, or acquaintances, or anyone else he knew. I'm sorry, but I can't think of anyone." Willow and Buffy left. Neither of them said anything on the drive home. It was too tragic, too typical. They meet someone, and just when they begin to like him, to form a personal attachment to him, he gets killed. There was one thing they knew for sure. This was no ordinary vampire killing.
8
The next evening, Buffy, Willow and Xander sat around the table in Buffy's dining room, trying to piece together the clues. "Here's my question: Why freeze him?," Xander asked.
"To buy time," Buffy answered. "This vampire took his computer. It wanted to be finished before we knew Patrick was dead."
"But it wanted us to know," Willow pointed out. "It wanted to advertise its presence. And it used Patrick's email account. Which it couldn't do without knowing Patrick's password. Or without hacking into the server to get that information."
"So it could be an inside job," Buffy proposed. "We're dealing with something sophisticated."
"Something that could make use of Patrick's research, his data," Willow added.
"You mean a vampire who's a scientist?," Xander asked.
"Or who's connected to someone or something with that kind of knowledge," Willow answered.
Buffy put it together. "A vampire. With scientific and computer connections. With access to a cooler large enough to store a man. A vampire with patience. Something doesn't click. It just seems too meticulous for a vamp."
"Too dispassionate," Willow commented.
"Bingo," Buffy responded. "Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way. Maybe the vamp's just a bit player. It kills Patrick. But others do the rest. We need to know more. About Patrick. About his work.
About who could have been aware of his work." Xander looked at the obituary in the paper. "Listen to this: 'on Friday it was announced that Patrick Gugan would become a Full Professor before the start of the Fall 2003 Semester. He would be replacing Heindrick Hartog, who announced his retirement after 25 years with the department.' Guy gets killed right after he gets the big promotion."
"That's what he always wanted," Willow noted. "Elevation to a tenure-track position. It's every post-doc's dream."
Xander had a theory. "So this Hartog guy's being forced out. Maybe he doesn't want to leave."
Willow corrected her best friend. "Xander it doesn't work like that. Henry had tenure. He couldn't be forced out."
"Excuse me, Henry?," Xander asked.
"Henry Hartog. That's what his students called him. He was one of the lecturers for my course last fall. The one where Patrick was my lab instructor."
Xander would not give up on his theory. "I may be going out on a limb here, but this Henry guy wouldn't be the first evil professor you've had."
"It's a crackpot idea, but it's our only idea so far," Buffy explained. "We have to start somewhere. Let's just check this guy out. He knew Patrick. Maybe it will give us a few leads."
"I'll just do a quick online search," Willow suggested. "Xander, do you assume all my college professors are evil?"
"Of course not. Even though the only two I've heard of are Maggie Walsh and this guy. So even if this guy's clean, that's only a 50 rate of evil."
"But I've had more than 30 professors. And I'm almost positive none of the others are evil."
"I say one evil professor is one too many. Makes me glad I didn't go to college."
Willow found her preliminary information. "Let's see what his story is. Divorced. No children. Ex-wife a biology professor at Duke. Born in Boulder, 1950. Moved to Yorba Linda, 1955. UCLA undergrad. PhD from Penn State. Hired by UC-Sunnydale right out of grad school. He's been here ever since. Pretty boring. Nothing incriminating."
"Isn't 53 a little young to retire?," Buffy asked.
"I suppose," Willow answered. "But wait. He's not retiring. He's going into the private sector. Last summer he founded a bio-engineering company: Horizon Genetics. Ooh. Here's a link to their web page. Based right here in Sunnydale."
"Is this town a hotbed for that sort of high-tech stuff?," Xander asked.
"Not particularly," Willow answered.
"But we are a hotbed for evil," Xander pointed out. "In fact, I think that's the only thing we're a hotbed for. What do they say they do?"
"Genetic testing. Forensic testing. Basic services. Plus they say they do research designed to discover 'the great medical breakthroughs of the 21st century.' But that's what all these companies say."
"They're scientists. They must have labs, offices. Where does it say they're located?," Buffy asked.
"It doesn't. Or at least I haven't found that information. Give me a minute. Here's an address. But it's on Main Street. I don't see how or why they'd out a science lab downtown. Oh wait. It's their corporate business office. Nope. Nothing on the location of the lab."
"And isn't that suspicious?," Xander asked.
"Could be," Willow responded. "Or it could just be a safeguard against industrial espionage. If you make a big discovery, you want to keep it secret until you can market it. You don't want your competitors snooping around and stealing your secrets."
"Or you don't want the Scoobies sneaking around discovering your evil plans," Xander countered.
"Do we know if this guy's still human?," Buffy asked. "Maybe he's just been sired, and no one knows he died. That could be why he's retiring."
"But he's teaching a class this semester," Willow pointed out. "On genetics."
"So what," Xander rebutted. "Why couldn't a vampire teach a class? As long as there aren't any windows in the lecture hall, I think he could pull it off."
"But he'd have to have student contact. Someone would notice," Buffy replied.
"Maybe not," Willow began. "I'm not saying I'm on board the undead prof train, but he could avoid human contact. He's a tenured professor. He doesn't do labs. He doesn't do tutorials. He just lectures for one hour twice a week. He doesn't even grade exams. He would have to come up with some way to limit contact with the TA's. But it's possible. It's not unheard of for professors to have little contact with their students or even their TA's."
"Are you saying there could be other vampire professors we don't even know about?," Xander asked.
"Xander, please," Willow responded. "But it's worth checking out. Not the whole faculty. Just this one guy."
"How do we do that?," Buffy asked. "Throw holy water in his face? Stick a crucifix against his body? Drag him into the light of day? Speaking of which, how would he leave the building? These classes are in the daytime, right?"
"He could always hang around his office until sunset," Willow answered. "I can't believe we're even considering this. I took a course from this guy a few months ago. Now he's some evil mastermind? Hold on. I know him. I can talk to him. Shake his hand. If it's unusually cold, we'll know Xander's suspicions could be right."
"And it's much less ostentatious that my suggestions," Buffy responded.
"But if he's a vampire, won't he try to kill you?," Xander asked.
"I'll see him after class. In public. In front of hundreds of other people. If he's a vampire, but he doesn't want people to know, he won't try anything that could blow his cover."
"Maybe I should back you up," Buffy proposed.
" If he's sees you he won't stop to talk with me. You're the Slayer, so he'll figure you're there to kill him. Obviously a fight would blow his cover, so he'd flee. Then we wouldn't know if he's a vampire of if he just isn't in the mood to mingle. Don't worry. I can take care of myself."
"You look chipper today," Hartog said to Pitt.
"Always love that moment when boys become soldiers. They're ready for combat."
"Where did you decide to debut them?"
"I've got a friend in LA. The one you met last month. We're going up there."
"But your boys are green as grass. You think they're ready for the big city?"
"I'm just going to give them a taste. Nothing dangerous. Then we campaign in Orange County."
"Going under the radar. I like it. Our enemies won't even notice."
"I figure six days to train the next squad, so we have a tactical reserve. Three nights of skirmishing with the first squad, one night of scouting, and they'll be ready for our big score. The one that puts you on the map. The one that allows you to redraw the map."
"So they leave tonight. Your friend takes them site seeing in metropolis tomorrow. Then they hit the suburbs. Can you train the reserve in five days, move everything up one night?"
"I suppose."
"Good. Because I want our efforts coordinated. You attack when I attack. That way we keep everybody busy. Plus I know you don't want to be around when my visitors come to town."
"I can't believe you did this to me!," Andrew yelled at Jonathan in the interrogation room. It was the first time they had met since Jonathan left Mexico.
"Of course you can. You always knew I was the one with a conscience."
"But I thought you also had a brain. We were in the clear. Do you WANT to do prison time?"
"I want to get on with my life. I couldn't be happy living out my days as a fugitive, always looking over my shoulder."
"You were always the tattle tale. Like when we were seven, and we stole those Ho-Ho's from the pantry, and my mom asked what we had for lunch, and you confessed. You don't confess to someone else's mother! Unless — unless you LIKE being punished."
"I like having a clear conscience."
"Nobody has a clear conscience. Except maybe Ghandi. Or Data. But he's a robot. So that doesn't count. And even he briefly went over to the dark side and became part of the Borg."
Kate entered the room. Andrew and Jonathan looked at her and smiled. They started squirming in their chairs. All of a sudden they didn't feel like criminals. They felt like schoolboys spending time after class with the hot substitute teacher. "Mr. Wells, Mr. Levin, I'm Detective Kate Lockley of the California State Police. I'm going to talk to you off-the-record. Do you know what that means?"
"She called us Mister!," Jonathan whispered to Andrew.
"Dude, she is so hot!," he whispered back. Then they tried to act mature.
"It means what we tell you doesn't matter," Andrew answered.
Jonathan attempted to sound more sophisticated. "Nothing we say to you in this conversation can be used against us or anyone else in a court of law. Otherwise counsel would need to be present, since neither of us have waved that right pursuant to this interview."
"Pursuant?," Andrew whispered. "Could you be any phonier?"
"I see you two smart young men understand." They smiled at the compliment. "My first question is for Andrew." He seemed proud of this apparent honor. "Your friend Warren died what can only be described as an exceedingly violent death in a forest on the eastern outskirts of the town of Sunnydale. From the dispersal of his remains, it is clear that something caused his body to explode. Jonathan has claimed that Warren was tinkering with a bomb and it prematurely detonated. Is this what happened?"
"No. Warren would never — he would never make a mistake like that. He wouldn't screw something up. And we weren't even building any bombs! Jonathan's lying."
"That would appear to be the case," Kate responded. Jonathan looked stunned. "No explosive residue was found at the scene. No signs of combustion. No traces of gunpowder or nitrates. Sure, the body was found nine months after the fact. A lot of the evidence could have been lost by then — washed away by the rain, blown away by the wind. But if Warren's DNA remained, certainly some microscopic trace of the bomb which killed him would still be around."
"Are you calling me a liar?," Jonathan asked.
"I didn't say that. I just said your explanation is shot full of holes. Even so, it's still the best explanation we got. Until a better one comes along, we have to accept it. Do you have a better explanation, Andrew?"
"I'm just saying, it didn't go down like Jon says it did."
"Then how did it go down?" Andrew was silent. The truth would make him sound insane. "Remember, off-the-record. No tape recorders. No one listening. No one watching. Whatever you say stays between the three of us."
"How do I know you're not lying to me?," Andrew asked.
"You'll have to trust me. At this point, who else can you trust? Do you believe Warren was murdered?"
At that point Andrew gave in. He couldn't let this smear on Warren's competence stand unopposed. The truth had to be heard. "Willow did it! She killed Warren." Jonathan tried to not to look worried.
"You mean Willow Rosenberg? That was my hunch." Andrew looked relieved. Jonathan looked frightened. The last thing he wanted was to play a role in getting Willow in trouble. "Murderer disappears before the cops can find him, chances are it was payback. People kill for love all the time. How do you know this, Andrew? Were you there?"
"Uh, no. But trust me, I know what happened."
"How?"
"She came after us. She tried to kill the two of us after she killed Warren."
"Interesting theory. As a rule, I don't trust jailhouse snitches." Andrew looked wounded by this insult. "Did she attack you after Warren helped you two escape from prison."
"Warren didn't help us escape!," Andrew replied. "He was dead."
"You're saying he died while you two were in custody. That is very interesting. Because the police, and the district attorney, are working under the assumption that Warren sprung you two from jail, the three of you went to the forest, Warren died, and you two fled the jurisdiction. How then did you escape from prison?"
"Willow came to kill us, and we got out during the confusion," Andrew offered.
"So she wants to punish the two of you. And in the process of trying to do that she helps you escape from jail, and thereby avoid punishment? Am I the only one who sees the irony in that version of events?"
"Is that a way of saying you think Andrew is lying?," Jonathan asked hopefully.
"Course not. But it also doesn't mean I think it's true. Just means I think it's ironic. Mostly, it's irrelevant." Andrew looked disappointment. "What's relevant in Warren's murder." Andrew looked hopeful. "I mean, your claim that Warren was murdered." Andrew looked less hopeful. "Let's take your story seriously for a moment. Willow kills Warren. Do you know how she does it?" Now Jonathan looked hopeful. No way he could tell this lady the truth.
"She blew him up," he answered evasively.
"How did she blow him up?"
"I don't know. I wasn't there." Andrew thought this answer was pretty clever.
"Then how do you know she blew him up?"
"Because you said he was blown up. And I know Willow did it."
"How do you know that?"
"She told me. She told both of us."
"Is this true, Jonathan?"
"No," he replied. He was right. She never said "I killed Warren" in so many words.
"Yes she did. And so did everybody else."
"Who is everybody else?"
Now Andrew was ready to tattle. "Buffy Summers. Xander Harris. Anya - ah, I don't know her last name. But they all saw it go down."
"I talked with all of them," Kate explained. "Not Anya, whoever that is. But I talked to Summers, Harris and Rosenberg. And their version of events does not even remotely match yours."
"That's because they're lying! They're protecting their friend. Isn't that obvious? Does that make them accessories to murder?" Andrew would love nothing better than to bring the Scoobies down with him.
"So I'm supposed to trust the word of an accused felon against three law-abiding citizens?" Jonathan smiled. He liked how every time Kate got Andrew's hopes up she dashed them right away. He was really developing a crush on this woman.
"They can be accused felons too," Andrew retorted. "All you have to do is accuse them of what they've already done."
"Even if I were to accept everything you've told me at face value, there is still the problem of means. Willow has motive. She has opportunity. But how did she do it?"
"I told you, she blew him up."
"With what? A bomb? No explosive residue. Any other suggestions?"
"Why don't you ask her how she did it?"
"She doesn't have to answer."
"That's right. Fifth Amendment protection against self-incrimination," Jonathan pointed out, trying to make a good impression.
"Jon's right. No incriminating physical evidence. No witness testimony. No confession. No way to extract witness testimony or a confession. If Willow did pull it off, it certainly was the perfect crime. Yet it would have been committed in the heat of passion. So it doesn't fit. Revenge killings are always messy. And she hardly strikes me as a master criminal. It's like something's missing."
Andrew couldn't take it anymore. "Magic. She killed him with magic. She flayed him alive, and splattered his body over the forest."
"Don't remember Harry Houdini ever pulling that one off. Sounds more than a bit far-fetched."
"It's Aachem's Razor," Andrew explained. "The simplest explanation. Warren was blown up. But no explosion. No physical evidence. It's magic. What else could it be?"
"You might have a point there, Andrew. But if you look through the California Penal Code, you won't find death by magic listed as a crime. It lists hundreds of methods of killing. But nothing about magic. I'm sure you wouldn't find death by magic on the books in any of the other 49 states, or in the laws of any other nation on Earth. I suppose if this were 16th-century Europe you could have Willow burned as witch. Unfortunately for you, the Enlightenment kind of took care of that superstition. So you're out of luck."
"You mean she can get away with murder?"
"Theoretically, yes. If she did actually eviscerate Mr. Mears using some sort of hocus-pocus abracadabra mojo no rational person can believe in. Was there ever a 'Twilight Zone' episode where a man would be declared insane for speaking the truth?"
"There might have been more than one," Andrew answered.
"Are you thinking of the same ones I am?," Jonathan asked.
"Sorry. Rhetorical question. My point is, I can't say for sure which one of you is telling the truth. But one of your stories is plausible, while the other is implausible. And if you can't have truth, you have to settle for plausibility."
"But what about truth, justice and the American way?," Andrew asked.
"The truth is both of you participated in an attempted armoured car robbery. Justice demands both of you serve time in prison. And that, dear boys, is the American way." Then Kate left. She went down the hall and saw the prosecutor. "There's nothing there," she told him.
"That was like a Scully fantasy come true," Andrew said to Jonathan. "She was open to the paranormal but still a skeptic, but you knew deep down she believed even though she knew no one else did."
"I thought she was more like Clarise Starling," Jonathan declared.
"Jodie Foster Clarise or Julianne Moore Clarise?"
"Jodie Foster of course. Still, she was no Claire Kincaid."
"You and your silly Jill Hennesey obsession."
"It's not an obsession. I just think no one can replace her on the show. I can't wait till they bring her back."
"Stop living in denial. She's dead."
"She's in a coma. The car crash didn't kill her. She can wake up at any time."
"Do you think she had an affair with Jack Mccoy?"
"No. That's sick. Sure, he slept with other assistants. But he married both of them. There's no evidence of him ever sleeping with an assistant he DIDN'T marry. So I say nothing happened between them. I always hoped Claire would get together with Mike Logan. They seemed to have real chemistry."
"Plus, he was the best bad cop. Chris Noth can work me over any day." Jonathan gave Andrew a funny look. "I mean, interrogate me. If I had to be interrogated by a police officer, real or fictitious, it would be him." There were a few seconds of silence. "I still can't believe you squealed. I hope you have fun in prison."
"I hope you've grown up by the time you get out," Jonathan retorted. He really did hope Andrew could learn to be a man and accept responsibility for his actions. He didn't believe Andrew was evil. Just immature, and therefore easily led astray by someone who really was evil.
