Flow (2)

Day 21

Warrant in hand, they raided the engineer's small apartment, found a uniform layer of dust and lumpy milk in the refrigerator. He was a craftsman and proud; his tools each had their place in the meticulously designed workshop that had once been a bedroom.

The unit's emptiness confirmed, they brought in their magician for a look around. He wandered while the agents searched.

"Take a look," Kay said, catching Mike's eye. On a side table stood a contraption. Two large glass jars fastened atop a wooden platform, with parts – a metal wheel with a hand crank, rubber tubes – between them. It looked old.

"What is it?" Mike asked, leaning over to examine it from every angle.

"I have no idea, but it's creepy. Cam?"

Cameron approached, scanning the machine. His eyes slipped over it and the corner of his mouth quirked.

"Do you know what this does?" Kay asked.

"Yeah. One tube goes into the carotid artery and the other into the jugular vein. Solution in, blood out."

Mike had reached out, fingers ready to touch the wheel. He yanked his hand back. "Seriously?"

"Yep," Cam said, turning away to look over the contents of a low shelving unit. "That's an antique embalming machine."

Kay grimaced and also stepped away.

"Do I want to know what these are?" Mike asked, moving to Cameron's side and eyeing tools in neat rows on a shelf.

Cameron glanced over them. "That's an old bone saw," he said, indicating the sturdy toothed blade. "Scalpels, I think…and a trephine."

Mike blinked at him. "A what?"

"Trephine." Cameron picked up the small tool, which looked like a gimlet with a circular blade on the end. He pointed to the serrated edge. "This cuts through the skull. The little spike in the middle holds it in place while it's working."

Paling a little and taking a few deep breaths, Mike turned to Kay. "Who the hell is this guy?"

….

He was bone-tired and, aside from clutter, Stein's apartment had yielded nothing. Nor had their afternoon at the office, then down at the modern port security station, then searching a second time through Cantor's spacious loft. The Harbor Master had apparently been tangled up in this scheme – whatever it was – for a while. His loft walls were studded with conspicuously pricey art, a jumble of genres and periods. An expensive albeit knock-off Ming vase stood on an ornate mahogany credenza, next to several small cherubs sculpted in the Rococo style. Kay had walked beside him, taking it all in again with what seemed a mix of amusement and horror. The place was hideous.

The headache was back and the grainy security footage in front of him wasn't helping. He'd gotten a copy emailed after seeing nothing in their original viewing. Now, alone in the dim quiet of the Archive, he played and replayed it, searching for the thing that didn't fit. Trucks had come and gone; personnel had come and gone; nothing suspicious had been caught on that camera. Cantor's last appearance at the warehouse had been a week past; Stein had never been visible there. Sighing, Cameron rubbed his eyes.

His cell buzzed – Johnny. "Hey," he said, "sorry I didn't get back to you yesterday."

How's it going, little brother? You gonna come see me tomorrow?

Shifting the phone, Cameron reached out to pause the video. "Uh, yeah," he said. "We're interviewing a couple witnesses first thing, so I'll come out a bit later. Sound good?"

I'm starting to feel ignored, Cam.

That prickled at him and he opened his mouth to say…something. His head was throbbing and he was exhausted and he couldn't remember putting anything down but coffee all day and they were trying to solve a murder— Hard words started to form and he took a deep breath, suddenly concerned. "I'm sorry, Johnny," he said. His brother wasn't in this; he wasn't part of it. Cameron tamped down his frustration. "I'm sorry. I've been a bit…distracted lately."

You know where to find me, then.

"Yeah, I—" A creak down the hallway stopped him and he waited, listening.

Cam? Cameron?

Silence again. Suddenly exhausted, Cameron closed the laptop. "I'm here," he said. "Listen, Johnny, I'm really tired. Can we talk tomorrow?"

Jonathan's reply might have held disappointment or irritation but he couldn't tell. Tomorrow would be fine, though. Promising to get some rest, Cameron ended the call. He rose, swayed under a wave of dizziness, and braced both hands on the table for support. It had been a strange conversation, Jonathan's voice distant and flat. He felt disquieted, anxious. As the dizziness passed he heard another creak, louder, like someone moving in the other room. He listened again, breath in his throat, but there was nothing.

Gripping his phone, Cameron stepped into the hall. It was dark, empty. The spare rooms were flooded with moonlight, glowing silver; the air was cool and still. The kitchen was dark and vacant. He peered into shadows that could have hidden a multitude of dark things, checking each room in turn and ending back where he'd started. The laptop was still open on the table, video paused on the view of a panel van parked just down from the warehouse. Cameron blinked at the screen, confused. Gripped by a sudden urge to be in his own apartment, he shut it down and headed for the door.

….

To be continued

Note: Thanks to anyone reading and/or reviewing! Apologies for the longer delay in updating – this story has been crotchety and difficult, the characters obstinate and not doing what I want. Then, in a final setback, I was going to do my last edit on this and post it yesterday night, but my house was dark and I ended up creeping myself out so much that I had to stop reading my own work. (This probably deserves an eye-roll, or at least a sigh.) So here it is, edited and ready, and the next chapter will hopefully not take me a week to get up. Plus, I have reading to do as many of you are writing stories…yay!

One other note: I chatted with a lady on the Save Deception petition and she sent me an email she'd received from Amazon studios, which she emailed about picking up the show. It was a personalized response and the gal said she agreed that Deception is a great show worthy of more attention (that's close to her wording, I believe) and that while she can't make any promises, they are forwarding all these comments to the people in charge of development. So unless she's just blowing smoke, I think that's positive! Plus, I'm still emailing ABC and Ben Sherwood at Disney, reminding them that we're out there. Fingers crossed!