Extreme Liquidation: Caitlin Diggs Series #2 Page 8

  Diggs chewed the mozzarella, weighing a response.

  “Not this time, Ross. I can’t let information leak that might tip off the killers.”

  “So there is some merit to a conspiracy theory after all? Salinger simply didn’t off himself over a scandalous fling?”

  “You have to understand we cannot discuss this further. If you want to speculate that’s fine, but you’ll have to do it alone.”

  “So you’re saying you are more intimate with your partner, Deondra, on this matter? She comes before me?”

  “Don’t get cute, Ross. You know it’s nothing personal.”

  “I guess so.” Fisher threw down his napkin and backed his seat away from the table. The friction between Diggs and Fisher at a dinner table was apparently as volatile as the connection they had shared in bed. If they had indeed ever been in bed...

  ***

  The vision had taken Diggs by surprise. A short bout of panic gripped her. She realized the floating feeling she was experiencing had existed prior to her lucid vision of Ross Fisher. Lust had easily brought them together. Stubbornness had as easily separated them. But in reality, neither had ever happened. Diggs could now judge her experiences in relation to time. Only minutes had transpired between sex and argument. And although life often presented such odd scenarios in succession of each other, Diggs realized it would take more than a few seconds to pull an evening gown out of her crowded closet that not only fit her properly, but also hung perfectly straight, sans one wrinkle.

  No, that kind of transgression was surely fantastical, maybe even magical. She began to focus on waves lapping against a circular barrier. Shadows bounced off the water, cascading shimmers of light against the faces of men in dark cloaks surrounding her. The illumination gave little clue as to the identities of the men. What faces Diggs could see were unfamiliar. These men were dressed in white lab coats in contrast to their dark counterparts.

  She heard whispering among them. A robed man insisted the team must not waken her, though that was a contradiction in itself. He confessed that the enormous escalation of theta waves in Agent Diggs’s brain were responsible for keeping her in a waking conscious state. Monks could train for decades to achieve the mentally alert state Diggs had effortlessly achieved.

  She had accessed visions without the aid of sleep. The robed man wanted the men in lab coats to study the phenomena, to see if she could achieve this feat without the aid of an isolation tank. He suggested they use EKG tests, to monitor her brain waves as she continued to float in the tank that engulfed her.

  The robed man wondered if floating—a means to produce elevated levels of theta waves in all human beings—would take Diggs to an even higher plane of consciousness. He knew she had visions. He and his Apprentice invaded her dream that tipped her off about the pharmaceutical company.

  Diggs sensed this man’s robe was purple. Although she could not see it, she experienced it from an emotional tether. Her senses had been elevated during this experiment as well. She enjoyed sex and a mozzarella cheese stick as if both experiences had been virgin ones. More troubling, she enjoyed experiences that only existed in her mind.

  In the confines of the isolation tank, the setting was conducive enough to meld the reptilian brain used for self preservation, the visceral brain responsible for all emotions and the neocortex in control of memory and intellect together in a conflicted state known as schizaphysiology. Diggs’s mind was only vaguely aware of her capture and subsequent tenure as a test subject. Her mind was in conflict. As long as she was confined to the tank, rationality would oppose logic, lust would fight love and barbarianism might conquer civility.

  Diggs heard a muffled voice. It was immersed within the waves surrounding her. It addressed the purple robed man as “Master”.

  The Master, delighted with his experiment, did not welcome the interruption. His Apprentice had formed thoughts in his mind. The younger, hulky man in the black robe whispered these thoughts, unaware of the Master’s intrusion into his brain. The lab coats did not hear him. But the Master did, cutting him off with a wave of his hand. The Master knew where the thoughts were leading the simple minded, black-hearted man. He feared this Apprentice might never qualify for ascension because he could not let go of his anger.

  Nevertheless the Master confined this assessment to himself. The Apprentice must still play a part in his plan, even if only for a short time, because the time of ascension is nearing. The Master would scoff at the Apprentice’s suggestion that Caitlin Diggs posed a risk. Floating in a pool-sized tank of water, she would remain helpless as a child. He could not fathom why the Apprentice had even suggested they take care of the Agent Diggs problem “here and now.”

  He had let Diggs live. She could be everything he ever hoped for as a priestess if she could let go of honor and duty and join him in his quest. Then he could replace the unseasoned, near-incompetent Apprentice and Priestess that currently served his congregation. As an afterthought, he would realize this dream borders upon fantasy, a shadowy land where reality and magic sometimes collide. It was why he remained confident he could infiltrate Caitlin Diggs’s ever-evolving mind with lies and deceit to keep her an arm’s reach away from inhibiting his rise to ascension.

  He sighed as he took in Diggs’s naked, floating body with much more wonder than lust. Suspended in nothing but water, he coveted her as future priestess of his sect. He had believed ascension might happen without her aid. He had wished he could say the same about the Apprentice.

  The men in robes and the men in smocks formed a ring around the pool, silently assigning judgment upon the abduction. The robed men have witnessed the coming of a new age, the fruition of a twisted religion. The men in smocks can’t help but equate the agent’s capture as a desperate act of lunacy, far outweighing any justification for scientific enlightenment. As both groups stood by, Diggs floated free from gravity—but not from judgment. Left with no choice but to endure another round of dream theatre, the enhanced communication between her higher and lower brains kicked into overdrive once again. Tranquil waves disappeared into an inky blackness....

  ***

  A gray beam of light has permeated the darkness of a ledge where Agent Rivers stands. It is the same hotel ledge Greg Salinger had used as a diving board only days earlier. Only now, Rivers stands in his place as Diggs watches from a window.

  “I blame you, Caitlin, for putting me here. You made me abandon scientific rationalism to take leaps of faith. Well, I guess now you’ve got your wish. I’m about to take the grandest leap...”

  “No, don’t go.” Agent Diggs cannot summon enough courage to state the obvious. She had meant to say ‘don’t jump’ but that would come off callous. Her weak response is enough to keep Rivers’s attention though, because now the rookie agent can sense regret in Diggs’s tone.

  “So, I guess here’s the part where you should say ‘I’m sorry for messing up your life’. Don’t you want to clear your conscience before I spatter myself all over the pretty lawn decorations down there? If you still don’t understand, I’ll spell it out for you. I’m sure you’re aware how Dudek’s favoritism grated on me. It doesn’t take a vision to see it. He continues to doubt my abilities. I might have been able to save Salinger if I didn’t have to wait for your return from Miami. And when it comes to crime solving, he would much rather hear your theories than wade through a mound of my empirical data. So what I am doing here, I ask you? My talents as a biochemist have been squandered for the last time. My confidence has been compromised. There’s only one exit for me now, stage left...”

  “Wait, Deondra. Don’t you feel like someone is manipulating you? You sound as irrational as Salinger did on the ledge.”

  “Yes, I have been manipulated. I’ve allowed your influence to shape a course. Now I must follow that course.”

  Without another word, Rivers free falls off the ledge. And although her body is heading toward the ground, the rookie agent is met by a swirling array of stars, emphasizing ho
w Diggs has turned her life upside down. The emotion Diggs feels is raw and primitive, like her sexual liaison with Fisher and the taste of the mozzarella stick.

  The sky segues into an open green field where only a park bench exists. Diggs spies two people sitting on it. Ross Fisher is holding hands with Deondra. Somehow, Ross has saved Rivers and she is profusely thanking him. They look upon one another with warmth. Rivers now believes a relationship is the only thing that can save her—not science, not even a career. Still hovering overhead, Diggs begins to doubt Fisher’s sincerity. She has witnessed his true motivations. She feels as if she is an angel, perhaps Rivers’s true guardian. Undaunted by Diggs’s presence, Fisher emphasizes how trust is crucial to a relationship. He head is turned toward Diggs as he says this, mocking her.

  “I never said I didn’t trust you!” Diggs yells. She feels her voice is too far away for Fisher to hear . She fears she is too late to mend fences with either of them, burdened by a heavy weight upon her shoulders. She now floats upside down as if she were a bat. A voice reminds her that she can’t save everyone and she shouldn’t try to change people. She cannot place the voice immediately until a man in a lab coat intrudes upon the lush greenery above her.

  Diggs continues to float in suspension, realizing her view of the world has been turned upside down as well. The man in the lab coat sneaks up behind Fisher and Rivers, who are still seated on the bench. Diggs floats helplessly out of reach, feeling less and less like an angel. The intruder pulls a gun out of his pocket and is about to fire when Diggs recognizes the man as pathologist Ed Hoyt. He points the gun, unsure if it would be best to kill Fisher first. He ignores both options, choosing to turn the weapon toward the sky where Diggs hovers.

  “You took her away from me. It’s you I should kill.”

  She can hear Hoyt’s thoughts. He dares not speak his intentions before Deondra, who now jumps away from Fisher, startled. Deondra had believed Fisher was Hoyt all this time. Now Rivers sees Fisher as Diggs does. Deceit burns within. Hoyt again casts another thought toward the sky, unaware of Rivers’s horrific discovery.

  “It might be more fitting to let you live, to see your future boyfriend get better acquainted with Deondra right before your eyes.” Fisher follows Hoyt’s silent cue. He slides closer to Rivers and begins kissing her cheek.

  Diggs braces for the worst, wondering which would be more painful—a gun blast or watching the man she longed for get away ? Realizing this sequence of events is playing out in a vision, she can’t help but feel it is an actual glimpse into the future. How could things have turned out so badly? Should she have abandoned the FBI like her parents wished? Was this the cost for ignoring them? She inventoried all those who mattered most to her. McAllister, Rivers, Fisher and even Hoyt. They had all abandoned her. She tried to comfort herself that Tara would always be there until a new voice interrupts; it alters Diggs’s world stage once again...

  This time, she has literally changed a person in her life, for the worst.

  The voice emanates from Carrie Salinger. It is weak, frail and bitter. Despite the age in the voice, Diggs knows it belongs to Tara.

  Clinging to a shawl, the Carrie-Tara hybrid is seated at a posh eatery. A shadow of a man hovers over her empty dishware. Diggs strains to see who the shadow belongs to but can’t. She can’t even experience an emotion coming from the shadow. She can feel the icy coldness of Tara’s voice. It reeks of hatred, loud and clear.

  The voice blames Caitlin for extinguishing her free spirit.

  “This is what conformity has done for me, Sis. I spent my life living in the shadows of a husband—who I never wanted—to make you happy.”

  Diggs listens , non-believing.

  “Since when do you ever try to make me happy?”

  “The guilt trip did it. It took a number of years, though. I couldn’t bear to see you waste your life over the death of Geoffrey. I thought if I got married you would follow suit. But you didn’t. You selfishly clung to your quest.”

  “What quest?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Caitlin. I’m the one suffering the consequences. Imagine, a fifty- something-year-old widow desperately clinging to the notion that another prince will come along to save me. Is this what you wanted? Codependence? Now I can’t summon the courage to leave the house. If another man doesn’t come along, I’m doomed.”

  Diggs wanted to laugh at the paradox. How could Tara have traded places with Carrie Salinger, literally body jumping into the fifty-year-old widow? Then it made sense to her and she felt a pit grow in her stomach. Maybe this was all attributable to magic. Could this robed man possess the power to deceive? Or ridiculous as it seemed, should she interpret Tara’s circumstance as an actual cry for help?

  The man in the shadow is revealed.

  Diggs fights the urge to vomit in response to the new visitor. Staring back at her, seated across from the Tara-Carrie hybrid is FBI Director Connah Hainsworth. He feigns to comfort Tara-Carrie, offering her a glass of water. As she drinks, Connah smiles. Diggs finds she can no longer verbalize her thoughts to the strange representation before her. A cord has been severed.

  Hainsworth has pushed a button on something that appears to be a cellphone. When Diggs turns her eyes toward Tara-Carrie again, she finds the hybrid has transformed into Tara. She appears as if she were actually a fifty-year-old widow. Lines have creased her pallid face. Any hint of her shock red hair is now gone, giving way to a long mat of gray hair. It flows upon her shoulders in stark contrast to the bright fuschia robe she is now wearing. The entire image flashes as if a camera has taken a picture.

  Diggs then sees Tara as an innocent child, playing hopscotch and chasing a beach ball. A flash erupts again. This time, Tara is the fifty-year-old representation of herself. Diggs’s mind races while her body continues to float as if it’s an embryo, helpless to defend itself or others.

  Tara begins to grow younger again in the ensuing seconds, her spirit has been restored, but now she has become a Priestess. A black cross hangs upside down above her. She can only wonder if the man in this vision is threatening her in some way. Diggs wonders if this is what will happen if she doesn’t lay off her quest to implicate Hainsworth in Geoffrey’s murder.

  Diggs would normally find it impossible for Tara to damn herself to spite her, but the vision before her—the black mass—is so real. If this is real, Tara has traded with the devil to regain her independence. She can’t believe Tara would resort to leading a black mass. She must know this act can never lead to independence, only servitude...

  She tries to place Hainsworth in this unnerving future scenario, but she cannot fathom how the FBI Director could possibly possess the abilities to transform Tara into Carrie Salinger, and then back again.

  Although Hainsworth does seem to have a hand in this, she wonders if it’s only her paranoid mind placing him in this puzzle. She fears her compulsion to blame Hainsworth for Geoffrey’s death. The visions suggest this compulsion will place Tara and Deondra at risk. All of these conclusions are only based upon theory. She has been put into a tank to test her abilities—shouldn’t she able to analyze things as if she were really in a think tank?

  Diggs’s rational mind has taken over. Willing herself to ignore emotions, Diggs analyzes the sequence of events like an investigator. Had she really transformed Tara, and for that matter, Rivers, into something all would regret? Or perhaps, the mysterious purple-robed man had a hand in this imagery. Nonetheless, she could not be sure whom to blame. Before she can assess the situation further, a wave of guilt washes over her floating body.

  ***

  Fully awake and back in her reality, Diggs squirmed. One of the lab coats had placed a damp rag over Diggs’s mouth. The tests had concluded. The Master sensed Diggs was beginning to turn the tables on him, using her investigative intuition to uncover his real plan. Diggs still wrestled with her vision as the men prepared her for transport. Her last lucid thought focused on reincarnation. An hour later, Diggs lay slumped against her
apartment door, unaware of her immediate surroundings. A doorway to perception had been left open from the elevated rise in theta waves. In this state, she contemplated past lives and body jumping. Dressed in a fuschia colored robe, the still unconscious agent wondered if the dead could affect the living. More importantly, she wanted to know if they could become a suspect in a murder investigation.

  Chapter 12

  Tara found nothing odd about coming home to an empty apartment after her breakfast date. She figured Caitlin the workaholic must have shaken off her headache and reported to work. Tara did find her emotional reaction to Tony the moving man rather alarming. Fantasizing he might be a keeper, thoughts of the dreamy man continued to pervade her mind as late morning segued into midday, and then to early afternoon. She wondered if this fascination was attributable to her relocation. Maybe her senses had been reinvigorated from a change of scenery. She could fathom no other logical explanation.

  For nearly twenty-seven years, Tara Diggs had resisted pressure from the proverbial biological clock. Settling down and producing babies could always come later. She often joked with Caitlin that her internal clock—the one that sends forty-something year olds scurrying for the nearest dating agency—must either be broken or set on permanent snooze. But today things had changed and she could not fathom why. Tony had literally “moved” her, so to speak. He possessed great physical features and a sharp wit, though many men Tara had dated in California had met similar standards, and all were sent packing within a matter of weeks.

  As Tara continued to obsess over Tony’s toned body and deep brown eyes, she decided to make his number a permanent part of her cellphone address book. She felt a bit homesick having abandoned all her friends in Long Beach to come live with Caitlin. She entertained the thought of deleting the numbers, believing that the nation’s capital had officially become her new home, now that she was dating again.