Chapter 21

Exiting Guillermo, Suzi felt relief that she remained upright and unscathed. The time dilation between her mental journey and reality surprised her—only a few minutes had passed. Kariel’s influence, perhaps?

As she showered and dressed, her mind raced through tasks: Ygritte, Aiden, Nick, the Bowers family, and the McGillicuddy estate. But her phone interrupted—a call from an unknown number. Against her usual instincts, she answered.

“Hello?” she said.

“Ms. Burch? This is Ashley with South Chicago Hospital,” the voice on the other end explained. “Dr. Parker wants to discuss your blood work.”

“What did you find?” Suzi asked.

“Nothing. The samples were corrupted and untestable due to a reaction with the sodium citrate anticoagulant,” Ashley replied. “We need another draw.”

“What causes that?” Suzi pressed.

“Uncertain, ma’am. Can you come in for another sample?”

“I’ll be there today. And the spinal fluid?”

“Still being tested. Results take 48 to 96 hours.”

“Okay. Do I go to the lab for the draw?”

“Yes, ma’am. Dr. Parker will provide new orders.”

“Alright. See you in a bit.”

She hung up the phone before Ashley could say goodbye. Normally, talking to an unknown someone on the phone, or even answering the phone would cause severe anxiety for her, but Suzi just realized that anxiety was nowhere to be found.

“May as well get the rest of the phone calls out of the way,” she thought.

As she continued to get ready for her day, she dialed Detective Wilson, put her phone on speaker, and sat it down on her bed.

“Hello, Ms. Burch. Your ears must have been burning. What can I help you with?”

“Hi Phin. Were you talking about me? With whom?”

“Yeah, I’m here having coffee with Rick, Tom, and Kyle.”

She heard the phone beep and then heard the three other men say, “Hey.” She was now on speakerphone.

“What was said about me?”

“Just asking Rick about you. Trying to get a bead on how you are involved in all of this.”

“I’d rather NOT be involved in all of this if that helps. I was curious if there was anything else you found on Aiden’s kidnappers?”

Phin explained, “We identified the driver—Spencer Isaacs, a security guard at ‘Spector Industries, LLC,’ the company that owns the building where Dr. Adamson’s practice was. He kept a clean record until a few years ago. Since then, he’s been a regular perp—in and out of the PD—and hit with several charges. They were all dropped, so likely a payoff. But here’s the twist: Isaacs also worked for ‘Angel Investments, Inc.’ which owned that building for about thirteen years prior to ‘Spector.’ That made us curious, so as we dove deeper, we discovered that the building, plus a few others around the city, have all changed hands every twelve or thirteen years, within the hands of the same six companies, seemingly playing some property hot-potato juggling act.”

“What’s more, is that after the attack on Adamson, ‘Spector’ filed for bankruptcy, is liquidating its assets, and forced all the businesses in that building to close. Typically, there is a grace period, but none of the practices there seemed to be complaining,” Phin continued. “All part of ‘Spector Industries, LLC,’ we suspect.”

“What about Dr. Adamson?” Suzi asked, her mind racing.

“Not much. Best we can tell, he didn’t exist. ‘Adamson’ was likely an alias. The only Doctor of Psychology named ‘C. E. Adamson’ lives in Pennsylvania and retired a few years ago.”

“So, Dr. Adamson was a fake, his practice was fake, and even the building—all of it—was a scam?” Suzi’s frustration bubbled.

“We don’t know yet,” Detective Wilson replied. “We’re still digging. The blood and tissue samples from the scene, your clothes—they were inconclusive. No DNA to identify Adamson or whoever’s after him. Spector’s gone silent, and the building’s locked up. Even the law practice and therapists have vanished. Disconnected numbers everywhere.”

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“Inconclusive, huh? Seems to be a recurring theme lately. Smells like a conspiracy.”

“Maybe,” the detective conceded. “The lab said the samples looked mutated, curdled. Nothing salvageable. Corruption runs deep—maybe even into the prosecutor’s office, the PD, or the lab, maybe even judges. We’re hitting walls. George’s trying to access the building, but search warrants keep getting denied.”

“Well, shit. Thanks for trying anyhow. Hey, Tom—I’ll swing by for Ygritte after visiting Aiden at the hospital.”

“No prob. She’s a good girl. Becca’s attached to her. I might have to clone your dog,” Tom quipped.

“Suz, I noticed you’re driving Aiden’s truck. I’ll park on the street since I’m not there every day, and you can have the canopy,” Rick added.

“Thanks, Ricky,” Suzi replied.

“Poodle here wondered if we’d play off-the-books PI,” Tom said. “Rick thinks you can handle yourself, if you wanna play.”

Suzi’s patience waned. “Three hospital beds, torn stitches, and Aiden fighting for his life. I don’t want you guys to get hurt or even be involved. Hell, I don’t want to be involved.”

“Sorry, Poodle. Mom says I can’t play,” Tom pouted.

“We’re researching, not engaging,” Ricky clarified. “If we find anything, we’ll debrief everyone later, decide what’s next.”

“Always wanting me out of my briefs!” Tom joked.

“I like him!” Annie and James chimed in.

“Take your meds, Tom,” an unfamiliar voice—probably Kyle—interjected.

“Rick’s right,” the detective continued. “This is still a police matter. We just don’t know who we can trust in the PD, and have to think outside the lines.”

“Alright, guys, I’ll let you play or whatever. I have to go anyway. I’ll see you all later, but please be safe,” Suzi concluded the conversation.

“Later, peace, bye, see ya,” the men babbled, voices tangled like four testosterone-high, meaty football players wrestling over a greased football.

Suzi finished her hair and makeup and headed out. The ancient elevator beckoned. Her sandals and hospital paperwork lay abandoned. She tidied up, pocketing the body jewelry and discarding the rest in the trash bin.

The cold wind bit at Suzi as she stepped outside, regretting leaving the warm cocoon of her apartment. She climbed into Aiden’s truck, the engine roaring to life. Guilt gnawed at her—driving his truck while he lay unconscious—but it also brought her closer to him. And she adored this truck. Not too big, yet substantial enough for her to use the side rail and handle to hoist herself in. The engine’s power hummed through the metal, a reassuring heartbeat.

As the truck warmed, she dialed Nick. There was no answer, so she left a voicemail: “Hey Nick, it’s Suzi. You can give the family my contact info. I have business cards in my locker if you need them. Or I’ll meet them at the home. Thanks. Bye.”

Her original destination was South Hospital—to see Aiden and the kids—but Dr. Adamson’s former building lay on the way. Phineas had warned her it was locked and boarded up, but she wanted to verify firsthand.

Parking out front, the building appeared unchanged from her previous visits. She noticed the plywood panels attached inside the frames as she approached the glass doors. She tugged the handle anyway—no luck.

She wrapped her coat tighter, cursing her short hair for leaving her ears exposed. She explored the sidewalk and tried fire exits—still no entry. Around the back, trash dumpsters from neighboring businesses cluttered the alley.

In the center, a vehicle-sized opening led to the employee parking garage. A heavy gate blocked her way. In the corner, a huddled lump of dirty blankets stirred. Homelessness wasn’t rare here, but with temperatures plummeting, Suzi wanted to help.

She stepped toward the blankets, and the gate’s engine rumbled to life, lifting.

“Shit!” she thought.

Headlights approached—a vehicle ascending the ramp. She stepped back and hugged the wall next to the gate. She wanted to close her eyes, to help her not be seen, but she then realized her bright blonde and pink hair would be more of a beacon than anything. She took the ‘look like I belong here’ approach, tried to stop looking suspicious, and stood casually next to the gate.

The gate lifted further, allowing her to slip in. But now, a large moving van blocked her. She waited. The van eased out, and she locked eyes with the driver.

He seemed familiar—Hispanic features, dark skin, and hair. Maybe she’d seen him in the building. His eyes bore into her, a mix of hatred and intimidation. Suzi held her ground, unafraid.

“Terror Demon,” Judas’s voice echoed in her head.

“What!? Where have you been?” Suzi snapped aloud, breaking eye contact with the driver.

“You didn’t need me until now,” Judas replied.

Suzi’s arms hung mid-air as she argued with herself. The truck roared away, and the gate descended. “So, you only show up when there are demons around?” she challenged.

“Only when you need me,” Judas replied.

Suzi glanced at the departing truck, then back at the gate—halfway down. A decision loomed. She sprinted, rolling under the closing barrier.

Inside the building, she brushed road grime from her legs.

“Judas, we need to talk,” she scolded in her head. “You can’t just come and go as you please. If you’re part of this group, participate.”

Silence followed. Had Judas retreated into the pitch-dark room since the demon was gone?

“I’m not sure if you’re brave or stupid,” a man’s voice interrupted.

Suzi froze, mouthing a quiet curse. She stood straight, arms raised.

“Put your arms down,” the man ordered. “Your hair draws enough attention.”

A dirty blanket fell nearby, and Suzi turned.

“Phineas!” she whispered as loudly as she could.

“Why are you whispering?” the detective asked, shedding another old, dirty, oversized coat from over his own stylish suit coat. “And I thought you didn’t want to play with us?”

“I thought you were just researching,” Suzi protested.

“This is research,” he clarified. “Spector Industries filed bankruptcy, but no documentation on their assets yet. There have been moving trucks in and out of here for the last few days—likely hiding something from seizure.”

“What could it be?”

“Drugs, weapons, counterfeit money, or equipment,” Phineas speculated. “Or maybe stamp collections they don’t want to be taxed. It's shady as shit, and we know their influence is far-reaching.”

He began descending the ramp to the parking area, Suzi trailing behind.

“I’ve told you why I’m here,” Phineas said. “Now, why are you here?”

“Research,” Suzi replied with a shrug.