Chapter 6
Opening her eyes and lifting her head from the luxurious pillow of her hotel bed, Nica took a look around as the mid morning sunshine beamed in through the windows. A group of pigeons flew past, their shadows creating a flickering effect across the huge room as Nica pushed herself into a sitting position and yawned, stretching her arms skywards. She looked at the clock and was amazed. Just after 10am. Yet another night of peaceful, unbroken sleep. Looking to her left she spotted her phone on the bedside table deciding it would be a start to turn it on and begin making her way through the days work. She'd been through Charles Lee Ray's file time and again, but had been unable to find anything of any interest. There were pictures, some of the man himself, some of his apartment and various crime scenes he'd been associated with, as well as various entries on his criminal record. The guy had run up quite a list since his younger, teenage days. Assault, kidnapping, murder, breaking and entering, disturbing the peace, the odd DUI, the guy was well known to the police, long before it all came out about his Lakeshore Strangler persona. After finding nothing of interest in the file, Nica had returned to the internet and carried on her research that way, the only place she could think to visit now being the Play Pals factory across town. This had apparently been the scene of yet another Andy Barclay episode, Chucky supposedly taking him there and causing all manner of chaos as he relentlessly chased Andy and his foster sister, events coming to an end as they had apparently gained the upper hand and disposed of the pint sized terror at last. The tales were legendary across the internet, forums and websites dedicated to nothing but Chucky, some even sick enough to promote the little fucker as some kind of anti-hero. Sitting up and giving a yawn, Nica held in the button that sat atop her HTC cell phone, watching as the LCD display gradually sparkled into life asking her for a PIN number before promptly unlocking the cellular device. She was just about to redial the number for the cab company she had used the day before when her phone made a noise, the 'beep' of the message tone startling her. Funnily enough, there didn't look to be a text message, and as she lifted her eye to the top of the screen she saw two tiny symbols indicating a missed call and a voicemail, the latter sitting, waiting patiently for her to access it. Placing her finger on the top of the screen, she dragged downwards and displayed a list of notifications, finding the missed call from the early hours of the morning to be a Chicago number. Quickly flicking the button for voicemail, she lifted the cell phone to her ear and waited, her heart beginning to pound, her chest tightening slightly, throbbing with anticipation. Suddenly the automated voice crackled into life.
"You have one new message. First message, sent today at 01:34." The voice droned on.
As Nica waited, she found herself part happy she had turned her phone off, but also part curious to who on earth would be calling her at that hour. As she was lost in her own thoughts, the voice of Jack Santos appeared, crackling over the airwaves.
"Nica... It's Jack. I just wanted to apologise. For everything." Nica was instantly unsettled, the sincerity in Jack's slightly slurred words seemingly out of character. "I can't go through that again... Please forgive me."
The call suddenly ended, the line immediately dead. Nica stunned. What did he mean? Forgive him? For what? What was he planning on doing? Making a run for it? Surely he knew that wouldn't help him, or her. Anybody in fact. Lifting the phone to her ear again, Nica listened to the options on offer and selected to repeat the message. As she listened, the words took another meaning. Darker, morbid, a cry for help as she noticed his voice seemed filled with angst, fear and more importantly defeat. He sounded like he was surrendering, throwing in the towel. But how? What could he mean? Then it hit her. Like a ton of bricks it hit her. Nica felt winded, the air hammered from her lungs as she took on board the words of Jack Santos. She looked at the clock again, realising the voicemail had been left just a little over eight and a half hours ago, and could only hope that Jack Santos had come to his senses and not gone through with his drunken threat. Quickly changing and springing from her bed, Nica dialled the cab company and ordered a cab for as soon as possible, her head spinning as she grabbed her purse and made her way to the hotel lobby. As she reached the vast lobby area she was hit with the sounds of Chicago's finest as they checked in, checked out and generally milled about, whether it be meeting clients, awaiting cabs or simply making plans for another day of their vacations. Hurriedly racing to the pay phones in the far corner of the reception area Nica came to a sudden, abrupt halt as she almost clattered into the phone, sat proud as it clung to the tiled wall of the hotel lobby. She yanked the white pages from the desk below the phone and quickly flipped to the 'Residential' section, hurriedly searching the names beginning with 'S' and soon enough finding the surname 'Santos'. As she looked at her cell phone, she made a quick mental note of Jack's number, obviously the missed call from the early hours of the morning, and tried frantically to match it up with a name and address listed in the book. After skimming her eyes over every entry in the 'Santos' name, Nica drew a blank, but on her second attempt she struck gold. There it was. The number on her phone displayed proudly alongside Jack's name and address in the book. As she ripped the page from the thick, heavy book, she spun her head, suddenly feeling a little guilty of the minor act of vandalism. Then, turning as fast as she could, she moved to the hotel entrance to find her cab parked, engine running.
Next stop, Jack Santos.
Her only hope, that she wasn't too late.
As the cab driver had greeted Nica she immediately felt at ease. His rich, wide grin as he shook her hand before opening the door had given her a feeling of comfort that she so rarely found in people these days. More to the point, he also knew exactly how to fold up her wheelchair, before delicately placing it in the trunk of the cab and jumping in the driver's seat, his hand automatically clocking onto his fare. He spun in his seat, addressing Nica as he put on his seat belt, the 'click' from the housing giving Nica a feeling of responsibility the driver from the airport seemed to lack somewhat.
"Where we headed then honey?" He asked.
"1350 North Lakeshore Drive." Nica replied hurriedly as she examined the torn page of the phone book she had clenched in her hand.
"The apartments?" The driver asked, causing Nica to look up, confusion in her eyes as she caught the driver's stare in the rear view mirror.
"Sorry?" She asked.
"The apartments." The driver replied. "That's 1350 North Lakeshore Drive. That where you're headed?"
"Well yeah." Nica spat, time running out. "That's what I said."
"Sorry miss." He shot back as he slipped the cab into gear and pulled into the throngs of Chicago traffic lining the street, horns blaring as people became irritated at the slightest thing. "Just you'd be surprised how many people give me an address, then when we get there... It's not where they thought."
"I see." Nica replied as she sat back, trying to relax.
"Yeah, those are the kinda customers that don't feel like paying for their own mistakes too, if you know what I mean." He continued.
"I bet that's irritating." Nica agreed.
"You bet. That's why when somebody doesn't look like they know where they're going, I figure it's better taking a few seconds to check first." The driver smiled at Nica through the mirror again. His high forehead and jet black, rapidly receding hairline, more than noticeable as he grinned, making his hair ride back a touch over his scalp.
"I'm actually from Chicago." She laughed. "Not the city though. A smaller, out of the way town."
"I getcha." The driver laughed. "The city's a pain in the ass at the best of times."
As the cab came to a stop at some traffic lights, the driver spun around and once again extended his hand.
"The name's Jimmy." He beamed. "And you are...?"
"Nica." She replied, her hand taking his once more and giving it a good, firm shake before he spun back into his seat and followed the queue of built up traffic through the gridlocked streets.
"So what brings you to the city Nica?" He asked as they rolled gently forward, his eyes constantly flitting between the road in front and the rear view mirror.
"Research." Nica answered. "I'm doing research on a few things."
"Really?" He seemed impressed. "What you researching?"
"A serial killer." Nica flatly replied, the cab bumping slightly as it began to pick up speed, rocking her back and forth.
"Wow." His eyes widened, his face dropped, but remained smiling as he chewed on his gum. "Which one?"
"I'm sorry?" Nica struggled to hear.
"Which one?" He repeated. "Speck? Gacy? Holmes?"
"Neither of those." Nica laughed as she realised she was playing a game of 'Guess The Serial Killer' with a cab driver. His smile disappeared, a look of concentration falling over Jimmy's face as he weaved in and out of lanes of traffic, his mind now on more than the road.
"Dahmer? Heirens?" He carried on, glimpsing at Nica occasionally through the mirror.
"Nope." Nica shook her head, closed her eyes and smiled slightly.
"Gein? Ray?" Jimmy went on, suddenly noticing the change in Nica's expression, her face turning serious, her eyes falling on Jimmy's reflection, not a word leaving her lips. "That it? Ray?"
"Yes." Nica answered, turning her head and taking in the view.
"Yeah, knew it had to be one of those." Jimmy said. "Not heard Ray's name in a hell of a long time though. Shit I remember all that shit about that kid with the doll back in the eighties and nineties. Damn well freaked me out just thinking about it."
"You know about that?" Nica leaned forward, placing her hands on the back of the passenger seat in front of her. Jimmy, turned his head and winked at her.
"Hell yeah." He laughed. "You don't forget things like that."
"No." Nica agreed as she sat back in her seat. "You can say that again."
"What was the name now?" Jimmy seemed to be thinking, trying to remember something, suddenly the words landing on the tip of his tongue, elation on his face. "The Strangler!" He shouted in joy.
"That's the one." Nica folded her arms across her chest, the dull ache she had been experiencing since leaving hospital now growing significantly, a scowl gracing her face as her memories raced to the surface.
"What else was it?" Jimmy asked. "The doll... Chucky! That was it. Jesus, that was like a damned nightmare. That woman and her kid. They must've been nuts. Especially after that whole thing at the factory."
Nica's ears pricked up. She bolted upright and shot forward.
"What was that?" She asked.
"What?" Jimmy replied as the cab came to a stop, another set of lights.
"About a factory." Nica gasped, her mouth struggling to keep up with her brain.
"The Play Pals thing?" He asked. Nica nodded. "Well... I dunno what went down. All I know is what was said. Rumours, that kinda thing. That kid and some girl ended up in there, made a whole load of mess. Said that this doll had tried killing them both."
"You don't say." Nica whispered under her breath.
"I know one thing though. There was somebody died there that night. So something 'did' go down." Jimmy spoke a little softer, his face becoming tinged with sadness.
"I didn't know about that." Nica replied gently. "Where is the factory? Do you know?"
"It's over the other side of town. See the tracks?" Jimmy pointed to the rail tracks across the street, the reason for the lights beckoning the traffic to stop. "They take you straight there, run right past where it used to be."
"Really?" Nica gasped as she looked down the tracks, her mind suddenly catching that last part. "Used to be?"
"Yeah." Jimmy replied as the lights changed colour, slipping the cab back into gear and releasing the handbrake. "Tore the place down back in '99."
"Jesus." Nica muttered. "Why did they do that?"
"Well Nica, rumour has it, they ceased production for a period of time. After that whole episode with the kid in the factory?" He gave Nica a look in the mirror once more, Nica nodded. "Apparently the bad press crippled the company. Real bad press too. All this killer doll shit really took its toll. The company went into receivership just before the mid-nineties. A halt in production obviously means a halt in profits. Unfortunately, there ain't a halt in the bills." He laughed.
"I don't get what you're saying." Nica was confused.
"Well all the time they weren't making money, the company started getting behind on the bills. People higher up sensing something bad and calling in various debts etcetera. The whole place was about to go under when somebody swooped in and bought the place for practically nothing."
"Really?" Nica asked. "Who?"
"A guy called Derek Sullivan." Jimmy immediately answered. "Came in, bought the place with this consortium he'd put together. Promised he'd pay off the debts, got the place up and running again. That was about... '98. Yeah about then."
"But why?" Nica was struggling to build a picture in her head. "Why would he buy a struggling toy company with such a bad reputation?"
"You tell me." Jimmy lifted a solitary hand from the wheel. "It wasn't like he was new to the place. He'd worked there for years before. Even before it all kicked off with Ray and that kid. But he wasn't high enough. He was high up, don't get me wrong, but not as high as he wanted. I guess he saw something he knew, a chance to be at the top of the pyramid and took a gamble with a lot of people's money."
"But it didn't pay off?" Nica enquired.
"Hardly." Jimmy laughed. "They started production again, some new stuff, some old. Even started making those dolls again. Don't get me wrong or nothing, those dolls were big when they first came out, but I think that idea was always destined to fail."
"In what way?" Nica pressed Jimmy again, leaning forward once more.
"Well they started doing the dolls again, once they'd been in and cleaned the place up. By all accounts that place was a nightmare. Kids breaking in all the time, some lighting fires, some just for the thrill of it." Jimmy raised his eyebrows. "No sooner had they started the dolls, then BOOM."
"It all happened again?" Nica nodded, leaning back.
"You got it Nica." Jimmy smiled. "First thing to happen? Derek Sullivan. Dead."
"Really?" Nica asked. "How?"
"Not too sure, I mean, don't quote me on this." He looked at her over his shoulder as he drove, constantly in and out of gears. "In fact don't quote me on any of this. But his P.A found him dead in his penthouse. Somebody really went to work on him. Strangled, tortured, beaten over the head. You name it, sounded like he took a hell of a beating before he died."
"And they never found out who did this?" Nica asked.
"Not that I know of." Jimmy shook his head. "Unsolved I guess."
"I see." Nica bit her lip as her mind worked.
"But then..." Jimmy continued suddenly. "It all went to hell with that kid again, and I mean, this is years later. He's all grown up now, off doing his own thing. But he makes a song and dance about this doll again. I don't know the specifics, but that more or less spelled the end for Play Pals."
"It did?" She asked again.
"Oh boy yeah. There was no coming back this time." He looked at Nica through the mirror again, turning down a small side street. "Next thing, the board starts making cuts. People started getting laid off, a few here, a few there. Next thing you know, there's even more out of work before suddenly, everybody's gone. The owners had to sell off the land, buildings and all, just to pay off the debts they'd taken on in the first place. That's why it was tore down in '99. Less than a year after Sullivan and his group bought it out."
Nica sat back in the rear seat of the cab, her mind awash with new information as the cab travelled down the street slowly, approaching a multi storey, red brick building, the driver slowing and pulling nose first into the driveway. Nica had one final question as the driver killed the engine and unbuckled his seat belt. She shot forward and grabbed his shoulder, just as he leaned forward to open his door.
"How do you know all this?" She asked. He turned his head, a sly smile igniting across his lips as he spoke.
"What? You think I've been a cabbie all my life?" He laughed. "I used to work there Nica. If it weren't for Play Pals going under, we wouldn't be talking now!"
With that, Jimmy jumped out of the cab and opened Nica's door, before quickly unfolding her wheelchair and helping her out of the cab.
"Small world isn't it?" He smiled as she started rolling towards the entrance of 1350 North Lakeshore Drive Apartments. Nica spun her head, still dizzy from that little revelation, and addressed Jimmy.
"You can say that again." She sighed. "Wait here. I'll not be long."
With that Nica made her way inside and to the elevators.
The second floor her destination.
As the elevator slowed to a stop, the doors slid to either side respectively, before Nica made her way out into the corridor of the apartment block. Looking at the address she had ripped from the white pages, she noted the apartment was listed as 2-45. Her eyes looked up as she noticed the sign that greeted her on her exit from the elevator. Apartments 1-30 to the left, apartments 31-60 to the right. Turning slowly to the right and making her way down the long and hideously decorated hallway, Nica looked at the doors either side of her, apartment 45 more than likely down the far end. Typical. Her wheelchair seemed to glide across the thin and almost worn out carpet as she picked up speed, hoping that Jack had seen some sense and just gone to bed. No doubt she'd knock, he'd answer with a bitch of a hangover and there'd be a hell of a bruised ego for her to nurse into helping with this whole thing. Nica started to think. She was in remarkably good spirits considering all that had happened, especially this last month or so. Chucky was safely behind the door of a padded cell up at Longcroft, he couldn't do a thing to her from there, plus when she'd visited him to rub salt in his wounds, he'd looked like he could keel over and die any day soon. Which had delighted her no end. What goes around comes around, all that. Nica was dragged from her daydreaming as she noticed apartment 45 just up ahead, putting more energy into the thrusts of her wheels and reaching it in no time, hammering on the door. No answer. She hammered again, calling his name.
"Jack!" She shouted.
Nothing again.
She hammered even harder this time, raising her voice to uncomfortable levels, but looking up and down the distressed corridor, she figured it wouldn't be the first time this had happened.
"JACK!" She bellowed.
Still nothing.
Taking a quick look left, then another to her right, Nica raised her hand and placed it on the door handle, her breath deep and satisfying as the door opened with a click. She took another look around before opening the door fully and wheeling herself in. The apartment was a lot nicer than she had expected, not too shabby, she had to admit. The thick carpet making it harder, but not impossible, for Nica to manoeuvre herself forward along the apartments hallway. As she approached the first door, off to her left, she peered inside, the kitchen beautiful. Hardwood floors, marble work surfaces and integrated kitchen appliances as far as the eye could see. She had to admit, she was impressed at how tidy the place was. He hadn't come across as a neat freak, but not one thing was out of place. Carrying on down the hall she entered the living room, the first thing she noticed being the laptop sat open on the desk, the screen blank. Making her way inside she approached the desk, the wall to her side suddenly disappearing, her eyes catching something in the corner of the room. Spinning her head Nica suddenly realised what her eyes had caught a glimpse of, her hands shooting to her mouth, disbelief, sorrow and regret flooding into her mind as she took in the sight of Officer Jack Santos sat in the plush leather chair in the corner of the room. Head back, vacant expression on his face, both wrists crusted over with dry blood as the bloodstained razor blades sat innocently by his side, resting on the arm of the chair. Nica's eyes filled with tears as the sight greeting her began to sink in, the raw and emotion, the loss of life all too familiar. Her head jerked to the wall, besides where Jack was sat, something written. A dying message from jack as he sat back, the deed done, nothing else to do but sit and wait to bleed out. The blood had run quite a bit as he had left his mark, but the words were still eerily legible.
'NOT AGAIN'
Nica closed her eyes and took a deep breath. There was no use in checking his pulse. He'd turned blue, and as Nica held out one long, shivering arm she touched him, her hand recoiling instantly. Ice cold. His head was sat back in the chair, almost as though he'd been watching TV, but Nica was quick to notice the TV was actually in another corner to which he had been staring as he sat and waited to painfully expire. Looking into his long dead eyes and turning to follow his gaze, Nica could now tell what Jack had been looking at in the early hours of the morning as he passed away. Over on the desk, in the far corner of the room sat Jack's laptop. Taking care not to touch anything, Nica turned with difficulty, her wheels digging into the thick carpet of the living room, before slowly making her way over to the desk. As she approached, she noticed that the screen was indeed black, the laptop powered down, but simply hibernating. This thing hadn't been turned off. Whatever was on the screen was what Jack Santos died looking at, and Nica wasn't sure she wanted to see this. Almost automatically, and without thinking, she found her hand reaching for the mouse resting on the surface of the desk, giving it a quick wiggle, the laptop suddenly whirring into life, the screen making a clicking noise before slowly waking up. Nica was appalled by the sight that met her eyes as the screen turned on. The headline about her family, how she'd blamed the doll. What the fuck had Jack been doing? It took a few seconds for the shock to subside, but Nica then found herself moving the cursor over to the browsers 'back' button and taking in another page from the pre-suicide history of Jack Santos' laptop. The page before was a shock to Nica, something she hadn't expected to see, something that had practically slipped her mind now she came to think about it. Articles and pictures dated 1998-2000, concerning a grown up Andy Barclay, a military academy just outside the city limits, the notorious curse of the killer doll seeming to strike again. Nica made a note of the name Kent Military Academy, Andy Barclay's last known location, and carefully deleted the laptops browser history, before powering it down. Then, pulling the sleeve of her cardigan over her hand, she lifted the mouse and wiped it clean, hopefully removing any evidence of her presence whatsoever. As she turned, taking one last look at Jack, helpless, frightened and alone, Nica felt a wave of sympathy embrace her. She couldn't leave him like this, he deserved so much more, no matter what Nica had said the day before. Reaching for the phone Jack had by the laptop, Nica dialled 911, reporting her discovery to the authorities before hurriedly making her way out of the apartment and to the elevators. The CCTV cameras going completely unnoticed as Nica's head span in shock.
In the elevator, on the way down, Nica had pulled her phone from her purse and Googled the name of the military school. Luckily the place was still operating today, pupils freshly enrolled just this fall. In no time at all, she reached the cab, Jimmy noticing her approaching and jumping from his seat. As he flipped open the trunk and rear passenger door he spoke.
"So..." He paused. "Where to next?"
Nica's mind was racing, her body trembling as the adrenaline and shock took over her completely. All she could think was to press on, while she could, use the information she had just become privy to, end this thing, and soon.
"Kent Military Academy." She said, her eyes burning with fire.
She was another step closer to finding Andy Barclay and finally putting a stop to this thing once and for all.
The two hour drive had dragged on for longer than Nica had anticipated, Jimmy not as talkative now, perhaps apprehensive as he sensed Nica's mind caught up on other things. They had quickly left the city limits and headed East down the highway, eventually finding the signs for Kent Military Academy, the bulk of the navigating performed on the fly as Jimmy whipped out his road map and set to work. As the cab pulled off the highway and down the incredibly long, yet immaculately paved entry, Nica took a look around. The grounds were in pristine condition, lawns kept ridiculously short, hedges trimmed in the most wonderfully neat and straight fashions, the flags the most brilliant red, white and blues, waving from the flag poles as the cab reached the end of the driveway and swung into the visitor parking lot of the academy. Nica readied herself for entering the reception building as Jimmy unfolded her chair once more, the lies racing to the tip of her tongue, just waiting to leap perfectly from her lips, ready to claim an Olympic gold in lying.
"You want me to wait I guess?" Jimmy stood shuffling his feet, hands in his pockets as he gave Nica a friendly look.
"If you could." She replied. "I shouldn't be long. But you'll keep the meter running right?"
"Hell yeah!" Jimmy laughed as he pulled a pack of gum from his pocket. "I'll be right here. You go do your thing."
Nica turned, taking in the huge red brick building in front of her, the green window frames, the incredibly clean glass, obsessively pruned hanging baskets that adorned the face of the entrance. Slowly approaching and pressing the disabled button beside the ramp to the entrance, Nica waited patiently as the door to the reception of Kent Military Academy slowly opened up. Wheeling herself up the incline and in to the grand reception area she was left breathless by the sight that greeted her. All forms of weaponry swept the wall to her left. Rifles, hand guns, artillery, blades of every kind, all brought together to create a tapestry of death and destruction. As her eyes fell to the heavily lacquered, hard wood floor she turned her attention to the opposite wall. Portraits of various, historical, military figures from the academy's past positioned from left to right, top to bottom, completely covering the oak panel wall. It was deathly quiet in the vast reception area, the slamming of a door down the corridor reverberating along the wide passageway and erupting as it entered the area Nica found herself in. The receptionist looked up from her desk, lifting her pen from the notepad as she noticed Nica sat across the way.
"May I help?" She smiled as she acknowledged the wheelchair bound stranger across from her, raising her voice slightly, such was the distance.
"I'm not sure," Nica smiled as she started to make her way over, alibi dancing around her brain. "I'm trying to track down a family member I believe attended Kent some years ago."
"I see." The receptionist turned to her computer screen. "You'd have to make an appointment and see somebody in the archives, but the nearest you could see them would be next month I'm afraid." She continued staring at the screen, fingers working overtime as she typed.
"Next month?" Nica was shocked. "No, I need to see somebody now. Could they not just see me for two minutes?" She begged.
"I'm afraid not." The receptionist replied, shaking her head as she turned to address Nica.
"But please, isn't there anything you can do?" Nica pleaded. "It's taken me hours to get here. As you can see, travelling isn't exactly easy for me."
"I can appreciate that ma'am." The receptionist replied. "But even if I could swing a few things, there isn't anybody available. I'm sorry, but it just isn't possible. That's why we recommend anybody wishing the services of our archives team phone ahead and make an appointment."
Suddenly, the door behind the receptionist opened up, a well built figure, a giant of a man, appearing through the doorway and approaching the desk, carefully setting a handful of paperwork down.
"Is there a problem Helen?" The man asked as he placed a hand on the receptionist's shoulder. She looked up and gave a smile.
"Major Charleston." She answered, somewhat surprised. "No, I was just explaining our regulations regarding appointments with the archives. No matter how far a person has travelled they need to phone ahead."
"Is that so?" The man lifted his head, his eyes gently falling on Nica.
Without saying another word, he stood straight and marched to the front of the desk, his hand shooting out as he stopped and bent forward, greeting Nica personally.
"Major Tom Charleston." He beamed, arm extended, his smile allowing his perfectly aligned teeth to shine. His chiselled jaw, strong and square, Nica could swear it had been carved from a perfect piece of granite. "I understand you've made quite a trip, Miss..."
"Pirce," She finished the sentence as she firmly shook his hand. "Nica Pirce."
They released each other's hands, Nica's nose catching a hint of Major Charleston's cologne as he stood straight again, arms behind his back, his classic, military style buzz cut and military uniform lending him an intimidating presence.
"Archives huh?" He asked. "You're trying to find somebody? Chasing a service record?"
"I'm trying to find a family member. But now I'm being told to make an appointment which it would be impossible for me to attend." Nica replied hurriedly, her mouth moving faster than her brain could keep up with.
"Okay." Major Charleston held his hands up in a calming gesture. "Then come this way and we'll see what we can do."
"Thank you." Nica sighed as she grabbed the wheels of her chair, relief evident in every movement.
As he spoke, Major Charleston stood by the open doorway of his office, swinging his arm and beckoning Nica through. As she rolled forward and through the doorway, Major Charleston turned to address the receptionist.
"Helen, I've half an hour before I'm due down at the rifle range. Hold any calls and fetch in some coffee would you?" He flashed a smile, Helen feeling weak at the knees.
Nodding, Helen stood from her seat, before setting off down the corridor and out of sight. Major Charleston followed Nica through the doorway and into his office, turning to gently close the heavy wooden door behind him. As Nica sat at Major Charleston's desk, she found herself admiring all manner of framed photographs, medals and certificates that took pride of place on his desk and each of the walls. She spun her head left to right, taking it all in as Major Charleston took a seat and pulled himself up to his desk, resting his elbows on the surface and locking his hands together by the fingers.
"This is impressive." Nica laughed, acknowledging the collection of service memorabilia.
"Indeed they are." He laughed, his hand reaching out and grabbing the nearest framed photograph sitting on his desk, his eyes running over it, memories racing to the surface. "Afghanistan most of them. Some from Iraq too."
"Wow, you must have seen quite a bit of action." Nica gasped.
"Well it's a lot different nowadays I'm afraid." He set the photograph back down on the desk, pulling his hands back together, making a bridge under his chin. "Most of the action's performed by damned computers. Drones, bomb disposal, you name it. Still, it reduces the human casualties, so I can't grumble at that. That's always a good thing." He smiled.
"Definitely." Nica agreed.
"So what's the name of this family member you seem so determined to check up on Nica?" He uncoupled his hands and swivelled in his chair, turning to the computer monitor and keyboard to his left hand side.
Nica felt her heart begin to race and pound again, trying to compose herself as she lied once more.
"Andy Barclay." She replied.
All of a sudden, the door behind Nica burst open, Helen walking in, tray full of tea and coffee in hands. A she set the tray down on the corner of the desk she lifted her head to Major Charleston.
"Your tea and coffee sir." She smiled.
Major Charleston turned his serious gaze from Nica and addressed his receptionist.
"Thank you Helen. That will be all."
Helen, sensing her presence not needed, the atmosphere thick with awkwardness turned on her heels and bolted from the room, stopping only to pull the door closed behind her as she left. As the door clicked close, Major Charleston stood, pushing his seat back, before walking over to the window of his office, the view out over the grounds of Kent Military Academy just as impressive from the inside as they were on the outside.
"Andy Barclay." He muttered to himself, Nica only just able to hear him. "Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time."
Nica seemed confused as she responded to his thinking aloud.
"But why would you right?" She laughed. "It's probably about what? Fourteen, fifteen years since he left?"
Snapping his head to the right and acknowledging Nica, Major Charleston spoke. His voice stern, abrupt, to the point.
"Let's cut the bullshit Miss Pirce." He snapped. "Why are you really here?"
"I'm sorry?" Nica was shocked.
"Reporter?" Charleston asked.
"No." Nica was taken by surprise. Completely caught off guard.
"Then what do you want with Andy Barclay?" He asked immediately.
"I just need to find him, that's all." She leaned forward, sincerity in her eyes.
"Well I'm sorry." Major Charleston replied, turning back to his desk and taking a seat. "I can't help you."
"What do you mean?" Nica asked, gesturing to the computer. "You haven't even looked."
Major Charleston laughed.
"Hell Nica." He shot back at her. "I don't need a computer to tell you about Andy Barclay!"
"You don't?" Nica was stunned, this wasn't going at all how she had envisioned.
"Hell no!" He laughed again. "You don't forget something like that. Jesus! That boy was..." He paused as he composed himself. "... He had issues. Caused a lot of trouble here."
"What can you tell me? You must know something." Nica begged. "Do you know where he is?"
"No." Charleston shook his head as he spoke. "Last we ever heard of Barclay was when he left Kent and disappeared under whatever rock he's found to hide behind."
"When was this?" Nica asked. "Roughly, I mean..."
"Probably..." Charleston looked skywards and rubbed his clean shaven chin. "The fall of 2000. See after the 'events' that occurred, we welcomed him back into the fold. Now I'll be honest, I didn't expect that kid to last two minutes when he came back. Not after all the shit that went down with the war games, Colonel Cochran, those stupid stories about that damned doll. But credit to the boy, he did it. Proved me wrong."
"What are these 'events' that you mentioned?" Nica asked, everything she had read about Barclay and his time at Kent had skipped over specifics. Mainly mentioning the fact that he attended the academy, and that was all. "War games? Colonel Cochran?"
"Not long after Barclay showed up here, he started ranting about this doll that arrived on campus, saying it was alive, whatever. Nobody really paid any attention. He'd this reputation for being a trouble causer over the years as it was." He paused, sensing Nica was beginning to become intrigued, then carried on. "Anyway, suddenly, all this weird shit starts happening. Colonel Cochran dropping dead, heart attack, but still, that guy served in 'Nam, Korea, he wasn't the kind to be snuffed out just like that. Then I seem to remember this garbage guy, crushed to death in his own garbage truck. Then there was the campus barber, throat slashed."
"Jesus." Nica replied. "You suspected Barclay at any time?"
Major Charleston shook his head as he finally poured a now luke warm coffee and handed it to Nica.
"Negative." He replied, firmly. "Barclay had an alibi and several people to back him up in each instance. We never found anything else out, who was responsible. In the end it was brushed under the carpet by the powers that be. Heart attack, equipment malfunction, suicide. All clear as the nose on your face in the end."
"So what happened then?" Nica asked as she took a mouthful of coffee, taking time to savour her first drink in hours. "When Barclay came back, what happened then?"
"He made all the right noises, all the right moves. After the war games fiasco, he got his nose down, and I mean hard. Became a soldier. Not just any old soldier either, but a damn good one. One of the best I ever taught anyway." Charleston's reply was dripping with pride as the words left his lips.
"Really?" Nica seemed stunned.
"Hell yeah." He shot back, eyes widening. "Andy Barlcay graduated Kent in the fall of 2000 with no less than a 94% grade in every class he took, from small arms to tactical manoeuvres."
"And that surprised you?" Nica asked as she finished her coffee.
"I'll say." Charleston replied instantly. "Before that he was a bed wetter. But no, something happened that night the war games went belly up. Changed him, made him into a man!"
"What do you mean about these 'war games'?" Nica asked inquisitively.
"Every year, Kent has an annual War Games. Two teams, capture the flag kinda thing, paint cartridges. You get the idea." Major Charleston replied.
Nica nodded.
"Only that year some sick son of a bitch decided to have a little fun and swap one teams paint cartridges for live rounds." Charleston continued.
"Good god." Nica gasped.
"Lost a good couple of cadets that night." Charleston sat back in his plush leather seat. "Shelton, Whitehurst."
"What about the doll?" Nica queried, catching Major Charleston off guard.
"Sorry?" He seemed confused.
"You said this doll showed up. Things went downhill from there?"
"Oh yeah, the doll." He laughed. "I never saw it. But from what I hear, Barclay was going nuts. Ranting about throwing it into some fan at this fairground that set up down the road. Said he'd destroyed it for good. Kept yelling at the cops to go check it out."
Suddenly Charleston's face took on a look of confusion, he was thinking, maybe remembering.
"What's wrong?" Nica asked.
"Come to think of it." Charleston looked at her, as if in disbelief. "There was a woman turned up here not long after all that kicked off."
"A woman?" Nica was taken aback.
"Yeah." He answered her. "Sat right where you are now, asking the same question. Where the doll was. Stunning girl. Blonde hair, attractive. Really wanted to know where that doll was."
"And what did you tell her?" Nica thought back to what Ted Langford had told her during her brief visit to Hackensack. The blonde woman at the grave, suddenly stopping her annual visits around the time of Andy Barclay and Chucky's final face off.
"What could I tell her?" Major Charleston chimed up again, rousing Nica from her thoughts. "Only place I could imagine that thing being was in the evidence depository down at Lockport Police Department. Told her to go down there and stop bugging me."
"Did you ever mention this to Andy Barclay?" Nica enquired, shaken by the appearance of this woman on the scene, despite the fourteen year gap.
"No way." He answered. "This was about a month after, when everything had finally calmed down for the boy. Last thing I wanted to do was set him off again. He'd really started to bloom at that point."
"I see." Nica acknowledged. "So what happened after he left? He just dropped off the face of the earth?"
"Well we don't keep tabs on everybody after they graduate, you understand that." He held his hands up. "Although try as I might, I wanted to keep track of that boy, such was his potential. Even now, whenever we have an event and we invite old pupils, he's always the one we fail to reach."
Nica sat back in her wheelchair and lifted her hand to her mouth, deep in thought.
"So I guess my trail ends here then." She sighed.
"Unfortunately Nica, it looks that way yes." Charleston replied as he stood from his desk, acknowledging the time and his schedule. "Now if there's no further business, then I'm afraid i'll have to bid you a good day."
"I understand. Thank you so much for taking the time to speak with me Major Charleston. I really do appreciate it. I'd also like to apologise for stretching the truth when I first introduced myself. I hope you understand I had good reason." She reached out and shook his hand once more.
"If you don't mind me asking Nica," He seemed apprehensive. "What exactly is your reason?"
As Nica spun on the spot and made her way to the door of Major Charleston's office, she turned her head as he followed on behind.
"We share a mutual interest." She smiled.
"Really?" He seemed puzzled. "And what might that be?"
"A phobia of dolls." Nica calmly replied as Major Charleston held the door open, allowing her to wheel herself through.
As she left the reception area and headed into the mid afternoon sun of the parking lot, Major Tom Charleston found himself with one single thought bouncing around his brain.
'That' He thought to himself. 'Has to be the weirdest half hour of my life to date.'
The cab ride back was steeped in frustration for Nica. Her leads had taken her from San Diego, to Hackensack, back to Chicago and now... Nowhere. After exhausting all lines of possible inquiries she now had no other leads to follow. Nothing she could chase up. Seeing as though she had a two hour ride back to the city, Nica decided to once more look over the notes from Charles Lee Ray's file. The same old thing leaping from the pages as she turned and read, the same pictures of his various mug shots, crime scenes, even the more interesting one of his disturbingly decorated apartment had began to seem bland, boring. Looking at the picture there was something definitely wrong with the mind of Charles Lee Ray. The tree of people moaning in eternal pain, the man on his knees offering himself as a slave to what looked like either a priest or some kind of god. It was only then, as Nica relaxed her eyes and took a less detailed look that she noticed something. She couldn't believe it. It was there all along. How had she not seen this? Dropping the file to the seat beside her, she pulled her phone out and brought up one of the various articles surrounding the death of Charles Lee Ray. There was the shot she had in mind, laying dead in the toy store after Mike Norris fatally wounded him. His long, dark hair, suit, and a necklace. The necklace, strange shape, hanging around his neck, one word standing out now as Nica examined it closer, zooming in as much as she could on her phone. There on the necklace, besides the red jewel sitting dead centre, she could just make out a word. Definitely the same word from the photograph of Charles Lee Ray's apartment. Holding her phone, she grabbed the photograph from the file, lifting it and examining it. On one of the walls of the apartment there seemed to be some kind of chant, prayer. She could read it quite clearly now.
'OH THANK YOU
MIGHTY DAMBALLA
FOR LIFE AFTER
DEATH'
Holding the photograph in one hand, the phone in the other, Nica could clearly see the connection. So obvious she could scream. There, on the pendant that he was wearing the night he died, was the same name...
Damballa.
Nica now had a fresh lead, and after half an hour of Google, Wikipedia, various religious and cult web pages she could do no more. Her only other option being to ask Jimmy to take her to the biggest library Chicago had to offer. He'd argued that they'd not have much time before the libraries were beginning to close, but Nica figured it was worth a shot.
As Nica sat in the cab, she remained blissfully unaware, that three cars back and careering along the highway behind them sat her stalker of the last few days. His anxiety growing as he had waited patiently for Nica to leave Kent Military Academy. Now as they entered the city, he had been surprised that instead of returning to Nica's hotel, they now seemed to be pulling up outside the main branch of the Chicago Public Library. The Harold Washington Library Centre. Taking half a guess at what Nica had discovered, and reaching into an open bag of luscious red and green apples, her stalker figured that he would most probably be making the acquaintance of Nica Pirce before the night was over. Things could finally be coming to a head.
About time.
Back in the warmer, early afternoon climate of Los Angeles, Tiffany entered the down town post office, package delicately wrapped and stuffed under her arm, she made her way to the front of the queue and violently slammed the box down on the counter. The young, rather attractive male behind the counter looked up and gave her a welcoming smile as Tiffany removed her shades, remembering her lines, as she had done countless times before.
"Hello there." She smiled to the young post office worker, working her lips into a pout.
"Good afternoon." He greeted her. "What can I do for you?"
"Oh not much." She replied, drumming her fingers on the box. "I've just got to send this, overnight if possible."
"I see." The young man smiled as he reached for a form.
"Doesn't matter if not though." She continued. "Wouldn't do it any harm to sit and wait a couple days." She finished laughing as she returned to a seductive smile.
Suddenly the box made a noise and ever so slightly jumped, causing both Tiffany and the postal worker to turn their attentions on it. He gave a look before turning his attention to Tiffany.
"Nothing alive in there is there?" He asked.
"Oh no." She answered. "Just a toy. The kids have been playing with it. Probably left it on or something." She laughed as the young man seemed to relax.
As he took the box and stuck a barcode and a postage sticker on he started to type the address into the system, pausing to look up, returning Tiffany's smile and acknowledging the address.
"You know, I hear Aspen's supposed to be great this time of year." He smiled.
"Is it?" She casually replied. "I wouldn't know. I hate snow. That's why I love it here. Better than back home in New Jersey, that's for sure."
They both laughed as he scanned the box and placed it on the floor behind the counter, quickly ringing it up and taking payment.
After Tiffany had paid and left, the box sat, patiently awaiting, the last leg of it's journey.
Or so it thought.