Welcome to Golden, Chapter 13

Billy's eyes were hurting from staring for hours at the flat screen of his laptop. Beside his computer were several empty bottles of beer, a benefit of working from home. Even though he had eliminated several suspects, he still felt that his skills as a profiler left much to be desired.

He started with the tougher patients — Andrew, Cal and Anne were his first three — but there was nothing in his own reports that might indicate they were responsible for Lily's death. There also were lots of things that pointed to all three. The trouble he faced was that the three of them never talked to him in depth about anything, so he only had his sketchy notes to go on. Their complete profiles had been hijacked by the government and with so many patients, Billy couldn't remember all their backgrounds. There were a half-dozen other patients who, in Billy's mind, showed signs of psychosis, although not violent. One of them was Fred.

His research was leading nowhere. He sat staring at the computer screen, tears of exhaustion forming in his eyes. What he had learned about geriatric psychiatry in the past two years would be enough to fill several books. It would probably bring him fame, and some fortune. Yet despite all his knowledge, he couldn't weed out one solid suspect. Within days, Golden would be shut down, and he'd be working to stay out of jail. And someone would have gotten away with murder.

His thoughts went to Elvis. Despite any evidence to the contrary, Elvis — or at least the one in Golden, whoever that may be — had to be the prime suspect. But who was hiding out in plain sight as the King? There was no one in Golden, that Billy could think of, who was obsessed with Elvis Presley. In fact, most all of the residents were fans. His music was playing almost every minute at some place in the town.

He did an online search on Elvis as a way to jar his memory and see if he could identify any differences between the real and fake ones. As he was reading an article about Elvis' death, Billy's cell phone rang. It was Jenny, speaking in her vague, paranoid manner. She wanted to come over and when Billy said no, she hung up and was knocking on the kitchen door of his small apartment in a matter of seconds.

“I take it the research hasn't turned up anything?” she said placing a plastic bag that smelled like New Mexican food on his small table.

“No,” he said. “I just wish we had something better to go on than my old notes. There isn't much evidence of violent behavior, but I wasn't exactly looking for it when I took these notes. Plus, add in that we don't know if this is a crime of passion, or something our killer has done before. Thanks for bringing food, by the way.”

He dug into the bags and noticed two Styrofoam go boxes stacked on top of each other. The first held what appeared to be a stuffed sopapilla, which Billy took as his own. While Jenny removed her jacket and dug through the bag to get her meal, Billy grabbed a beer out of his fridge and headed to his living area to sit on the couch and eat off the coffee table. Jenny followed him over and sat beside him, rubbing his shoulders in an unpracticed manner. Her fingers felt like they were digging into his flesh, but Billy didn't want to hurt her feelings and make her stop. Soon enough, she stopped on her own and started on her meal.

“I've been thinking,” she said. “What if this isn't his first time killing someone?”

“What makes you think that? And what makes you think our killer is male?”

“All killers are men, everyone knows that,” Jenny said, brushing off Billy's second question. He knew better than to argue, and he had actually considered the killer a man.

“He cleaned up after himself, either because he planned it well, or because he'd done it before,” she said.

Billy had considered that at the beginning, and had spent the time going through his notes looking for someone who fit the psychological profile of a killer. Her question, though, sparked something else in his mind. He got up and grabbed his laptop and brought it back to the coffee table so Jenny could see.

“Maybe I've been looking in the wrong place,” he said more to himself than Jenny.

“What do you mean?”

“I've been looking for a killer in Golden,” he said. “I should be searching for a killer in the real world.”

He got onto the internet and did a search first on Andrew Joslin, who Billy knew was from Wisconsin, but he couldn’t remember what town. In a matter of seconds, he found that Andrew was from Manitowoc. In another couple of seconds, he was searching for unsolved murders in Manitowoc, coming up with none.

Next was Anne, who Billy remembered was from Pensacola. A quick search turned up five unsolved murders. By that time, Jenny had pulled out her own laptop and fired it up. Once she got it started she asked Billy what other names he had. While Billy was researching Anne Knox, Jenny was working on Cal Everitt.

“Where is Cal from and how old is he?” she asked.

“Amarillo and he's in his mid 80s. I think he served a stint in the Army during the war.”

“Who else you got?”

“You can start with Noah Harper, Paul Thompson, Dale Goldman and I'll take Frank Bloom, Janet and Russ Hanna and Marie Engel. We’ve got others to check as well, but that would be a good start.”

The two of them worked for several hours, going through the rest of the beer and the list of suspects matched against unsolved murders. It wasn't easy; if any of Golden's residents had committed crimes, it was in a time when records were kept on paper. Not all those records had been converted to a digital archive, or at least one Billy and Jenny could access. They did have some help, though. Jenny found several websites that listed unsolved murders going back nearly 60 years. Despite that, it was still work and it seemed like there was good information available that shed more light on the residents of Golden. The pair of them worked through the night and by daylight, they had narrowed the list down to three people — Cal, Paul and Dale.

All three had lived in smaller towns that had unsolved murders. In the case of Amarillo — where Cal was from — there were four unsolved murders dating back fifty years, at least. Then there were others, like Noah, who was from Dallas, a large metropolitan area with more than a handful of unsolved crimes.

Billy was burned out and lay down on his couch for a couple of winks. It seemed like he had only slept for a second before Jenny was screaming.

“It's him!” she screamed. “It has to be him!”

Billy sat up quick.

“Who? What'd you find.”

“In one of the murders in Amarillo, a certain Calvin Everitt was a witness, the last one to see a young woman named Guadalupe Armijo alive. Police suspected him but were never able to come up with enough evidence for an indictment. It's all right here.”

Billy looked over her shoulder at the website she was looking at. It appeared to be a murder victims registry with forums so people could comment about the cases. He read most of what she was saying, but remained skeptical.

“It's just a bunch of people talking on a message board, we can't be sure if they're telling the truth,” Billy said. “But it's the best lead we've got. Why don't we get a little sleep and call the Amarillo newspaper and see if they can dig through their archive for us?”

Jenny agreed, and Billy went to his bedroom. He didn't think she would follow him, she could have the couch. Sleep was the first and only thing on his mind. Jenny didn't follow, at first. She sent an email to the paper asking them to look in their archives about the case. Then she trailed after Billy to take a nap, sneaking into the bed and snuggling close. Although it had been some time since Billy had shared a bed with someone, the closeness of another person felt nice.

The nap was a little longer than Billy had wanted to take. When his cell phone rang waking him, the first thing he noticed was the long sunlight of late afternoon coming through his bedroom window. This was much later than he had wanted to sleep. There was work that needed to be done.

“This is Watson,” Billy said.

“Dr. Watson, this is Ollie at the warehouse.”

“Yes...”

“It's happened again.”

A lump rose in Billy's throat, hoping that it wasn't his grandmother. All the time they were worried about Golden getting shut down, they didn't think that maybe the murderer would strike again.

“Who?” he asked.

“Marie Engel. We've put everything in lockdown, and...”

“And what? What's going on?”

“After reviewing the vitals history on Mrs. Engel, Mr. Jordan has ordered the shut down of Golden. He’s got a court order to do so”

Billy would have liked to think he was shocked, but in truth, it was no surprise. He had expected the order to come down at any time.

“You didn't, did you?”

“No, of course not. Ms. McKenzie has already informed Mr. Jordan that according to the charter, any government order to shut down Golden must be followed by a thirty-six-hour transition period. That currently leaves about thirty-three hours until we shut it down.”

Billy looked at the bed next to him, Jenny was not there. He hadn't noticed that she had left, but there was a note in her place.

“Ms. McKenzie is talking with Jordan right now, but I think you should get here as soon as possible,” Ollie said. Billy noticed there was a tone of concern in his voice.

“Let me grab a quick shower and I'll be on my way,” Billy said.

“Dr. Watson...” Ollie stopped and Billy could hear him breathing.

“Yes.”

“Dr. Watson. You can't let this happen. My mother is in Golden.”

“Your mother?” Billy wondered how that could happen without him knowing. Then it all made sense. “Rita, right? Your mother has a lovely voice Ollie. I'll get there as soon as I can.”

He hung up and read the note from Jenny, “Emergency at work, nothing I can't handle. When you wake, get here as soon as you can. Sorry I didn't wake you, but you needed your rest for what you have to do next. Love, J.”

He moved quickly into the shower. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered, but he didn't want to go into the warehouse smelly and in a panic, that would send the wrong message to Jordan and his team. As he scrubbed, he went over in his mind the time span since he was last in Golden. There had been almost no recovery time, but it was a risk that he had to take.

Billy's small rented apartment — which was a third of a triplex — was nothing to brag about, but it was comfortable. It also wasn't in the best of neighborhoods. The two men in black suits, Mormon haircuts and square jaws waiting at his front gate weren't the usual homeless types looking for handouts. Billy had them pegged for government men and they appeared unwilling to let him out of the gate. He pondered if he should say anything to them or not. He didn't have to wait too long before they started the conversation.

“Good evening, Dr. Watson,” the one on the left said.

“You weren't thinking of going anywhere, were you?” the one on the right finished.

It was obvious that they didn't want him to go to work, but he was unsure whether they were going to take him away in a black SUV to a secret location and lock him in a dark room.

“Just going out for some dinner,” Billy said, trying to remain calm even though his fright was rising up from his stomach. “I'd ask you to join me, but I don't know who you are.”

The one on the right grinned and the one of the left answered.

“Not very funny, Dr. Watson. I would suggest that you go back into your little house and have some ramen noodles.”

“I don't think so,” Billy said. If he was trapped in the house, there would be no way to get out. He opened the gate and walked out on the front sidewalk, the pair acted as if they wouldn't move, but Billy made his way between and around them. He was readying himself to take off running, but they only turned to him. They must not have had orders to take him into custody, only to keep him there. He walked toward his old pickup truck parked at the curb about thirty feet away.

“I hope you aren't thinking of driving anywhere, Dr. Watson,” the left thug said.

“Yeah,” Right said. “It looks like someone in this awful neighborhood flattened your tires.”

“And catching a cab will be difficult.”

Great, Billy thought. The warehouse was a good ten miles away, it was getting dark and he had no time to walk. But walk was about the only option he had, so he started hoofing it.

“We could give you a ride, Dr. Watson,” said one of the two behind him.

“No thanks,” Billy said. “I'm not sure I'd make it to where I'm going.” He started walking faster.

The two government men got into a white SUV — so much the stereotype of government agents in black sedans — and began to follow Billy as he walked down the street. By that time he had made it to one of the major streets and saw a bus stop. After waiting a few minutes at the stop, a city bus came toward him and kept going. Billy clearly saw the bus driver keying a microphone as the bus passed by. He considered running to the next stop, but imagined it wouldn't stop anywhere for him.

He looked around but couldn't spot the white SUV. It had to be close, though, or at least they had made it so no one would give Billy a ride. He stood by the curb, cars and trucks passing by, they all started to look like government vehicles and all the drivers and passengers looked like his two friends outside his house. Then he saw something that he didn’t expect — a large black man riding a shiny black motorcycle with a BMW emblem on its front. It looked to be the type of bike used to ride fast and dangerous by young men with more money than brains. The black man he knew, it was Ollie.

“Get on,” Ollie said as he roared up to the curb. Billy didn't question the wisdom, he climbed aboard. There was little room on the seat for both him and Ollie, but Billy made it work.

“Do you have an extra helmet?” Billy asked.

Ollie didn't answer and the bike pulled away from the curb in a flash. The speed limit on Central Avenue was 35 mph and the traffic was keeping pace at a cool thirty. That didn't bother Ollie, he never dropped below fifty as he weaved around the slower vehicles. At first, Billy was holding on to the side of the bike by his hips, but he was scared he could easily fall off.

“Quit fighting me!” Ollie screamed at him. Billy didn't know what he was talking about, he wasn't fighting anyone. It was explained in the same tone. “Lean into the corners, not away!” Ollie shouted.

Billy gave up on holding onto the bike and grabbed hold of Ollie and leaned close to him figuring the best way to make it through this ride was to hold tight to the driver. Taking a chance, Billy looked behind them to see if they were being followed, but the sun had gone down enough that everyone's headlights were on. Ollie continued to ride like he was being followed.

When they got down to the university area, Ollie turned south off Central and then took another right down an alley behind a pizza joint, curled around the block and across Central dodging in and out of traffic again heading north on neighborhood streets. Ollie had the foresight to slow down there so as to not draw attention to himself, but after several quick turns left and right, he was out on Carlisle driving like a madman. Billy only knew it was Carlisle because he saw the gas station where he usually filled up. When he saw the filling station, he was thankful because he knew the warehouse was close and he would be able to get off the motorcycle.

They neared the turn to go to the warehouse and Ollie slowed down, but didn't go in that direction. As they passed by, Billy could see why — there were at least a dozen white government cars waiting for them, and two of them peeled off to follow them. Ollie hit the throttle again, turning left, heading south, then east, then south again, then God knows where. Billy felt like vomiting and his knuckles were white where his hands clutched Ollie's jacket. He didn't know where he was — landmarks passed by so quick they didn't register in his mind — but he remembered going over railroad tracks, riding by a ditch bank and large cottonwoods. He tried closing his eyes, but that was a worse feeling. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, it was over. They pulled into the back yard of a small adobe house. Billy wasn't sure of the exact location, but he could smell the river.

It was dark as Ollie brought the bike to a stop. Billy jumped off and fell to the ground. He felt like crying, but was still in a state of shock. Ollie was laughing as he took off his helmet. He offered Billy a hand up.

“Ah, that was fun, come on inside,” he said, walking up a path and around the side to a side entrance on a garage, or an ancient barn really.

“I thought I had to get to the warehouse as soon as possible?”

“You did, but Mr. Jordan changed our plans a little,” Ollie said. “Instead we come here. Jenny was a bit upset when I told her about this set up last year, but now it all seems worth it.”

They entered the barn and Ollie turned on a light. In a space the size it would take to park two Studebakers was a miniature lab, similar in set up to the one at the warehouse. There was a control area that had only three computer monitors and hardware interconnected with miles of wires. Off toward the center was a familiar kind vat, it was very much like the one his body rested when he went off to Golden.

“I don't understand,” Billy said. “Is this connected to Golden?”

Ollie was fumbling around in a wardrobe searching for something, finally, he pulled out what looked like a scuba suit, again, something Billy was familiar with. In another hand, he had a digital camera.

“Not only is it connected with Golden, this is the first Golden,” Ollie said. “Strip down so I can scan your body. I wasn't able to get out of the warehouse with a copy of your avatar, so we'll have to make a new one.”

Billy didn't argue and he started taking off his clothes while Ollie hooked the camera into one of the computers. The engineer punched a couple of key strokes, talking to himself the whole time.

“Good,” he said. “The government computer guys have no idea we're here and I'll block your presence in Golden. Undressed? Good, now stand over there while I do this.”

Billy moved to where Ollie pointed and felt more than a little vulnerable.

“Can you tell me what's going on? Won't the government guys be able to find this place?”

“I'm sorry Dr. Watson, up until right now, there was no reason for you to know anything about this lab,” Ollie said. “The government shouldn't be able to track us here and if they get close to doing so from the warehouse, Jenny is ready to make sure that doesn't happen. As for keeping an eye on property owned by anyone, or any corporation, associated with the Foundation, this place is carefully hidden. According to all records it belongs to a Dick Peters. I know, leave it to Fred to come with an alias that is two words for a penis.

“Fred had it built when he first started working on Golden. All of this is where all the programming was done, and that vat is the one Fred used when he first visited the town. It was a lot cruder then, but he proved it could be done. When we got the funding, we started from scratch at the warehouse, and as far as the government knows, it's the only portal into Golden that exists. But, Fred, he was always one step ahead. He made sure to keep up this one as a backup for times like this. Fortunately, he has a lead engineer who hid its entrance into Golden so no one could find it, even if someone were to look.”

“And Jenny knows about this?”

“For some time,” Ollie said, motioning for Billy to turn so the camera could capture his image. “She was able to move money around to hide its existence from the foundation. She was with her father on this, when you have a new technology, there will be just as many people out there wanting to steal it as there is to shut it down. Plus it gives me a chance to work on improvements without someone looking over my shoulder. Turn again, only a little.”

Billy rotated while the camera scanned his body.

“You visit your mother, too. Don't you?”

Ollie smiled.

“Not from here, but at the warehouse. You really need a support staff to go in and, as you know, to get out. I've got to hand it to you, Dr. Watson. It takes a special kind of person to go in and out of Golden, you know that. I tried a couple of times, and it was so nice to talk to Mom. But each time I came back, it took a lot out of me. The headache is the worst. I got to say goodbye to my mother properly though, and make sure she was well taken care of. Turn.”

Billy rotated again. He knew that Ollie was taking a picture of him and the computers were working at creating a three dimensional image that could be used in Golden.

“I take it Jordan and his boys won't let me in?”

“Jordan explained that while he had to wait thirty-six hours to shut down Golden, he would not allow anyone, especially you, to go into town. And, they didn't want you talking to Jenny, so that's why they were outside your house. That phone call you got from me was a trick to get you to come in so they could keep an eye on you.”

“So Marie is fine?”

“No, that part wasn’t made up. She died, just like Lily.”

“And Jenny? Is she okay?”

“Oh yeah, she can take care of herself,” Ollie said. “Okay, I'm done here, go ahead and get in the suit and I'll get everything set. Jenny is babysitting Jordan, or maybe it's the other way around. Either way, they aren't letting each other near the computers. Jenny won't leave for fear that Jordan will shut down Golden, plus she wants to make sure someone is around to watch all the government types and make sure they don't kill anyone by mistake.

“This scheme is her idea,” he said. “You need to get in there and catch the killer. She told me to tell you that your hunches seem to be right. I don't know what that means, but she said you would.”

Billy worked it in his mind, when they had last spoken, the prime suspect in Lily Perez's murder was Cal Everitt.

“You need to get in there and figure out who is doing the murders. Are you ready?”

Billy nodded. As usual, he'd left an arm out of his suit so the nanoprobes could be injected into his body, a procedure that took at least five minutes. Ollie indicated that he needed to leave both arms bare.

“You need two shots,” he said. “I wasn't able to acquire any of the probes we usually use for you before I left the warehouse; so you get to serve as a guinea pig for the new version.”

Ollie pulled two IV bags full of liquid over to Billy. He started first one line on his right arm and got the flow going, then started on the second one. The thought of what this latest formula might do to his body crossed his mind. Ollie tried to calm his concerns.

“There's more probes,” he said as he inserted a needle in Billy's arm. “As you know, the old ones have a seven-hour time limit before they start sloughing themselves. These ones are supposed to last a week and don't detach themselves from your cells all at once. It's supposed to be easier on visitors to Golden.”

“Is it?” Ollie just shrugged, telling Billy that he would be the first one to find out.

The drip finished and Billy worked his way into the suit as Ollie worked furiously at the keyboard. Finally, he was ready. Billy got into the vat, the goo in it was much colder than what he was used to at the warehouse, but he figured it was best not to comment on the difference. He slipped the mask over his mouth and nose and checked the seal. He hooked the connection cable, which was held in place by Velcro, to the spot over his heart.

“Couple of things, when you are ready to come out, pull the fire alarm at the fire station. I put a relay in the program so that it will let me know when you are ready. Second, Marie Engel's diorama may or may not be there. If it's not, there's nothing I can do about that, but if it's anything like what happened to Lily Perez, it might still be in there somewhere.

“Okay,” Ollie said, “good luck.”

With that, Ollie nodded his head and Billy sunk into the goo and closed his eyes. He couldn't feel the computer signals reaching his brain, but he knew that if he tried to open his eyes, he wouldn't be able to. In all the times that Billy had gone to Golden, he always expected flashing lights and pretty colors, but the only signal he ever had was when he suddenly heard the sounds of Golden. Then he could open his eyes to find himself in the town.