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Erzsébet Bathory
"All right now, Lizzie," Morley said to the hypnotized girl. The room was set up much the same as it was the last time Ford was here. The computer was still in its place, the boom-mic hanging above the girl's head. The metronome, clacking out it's tireless rhythm, sat on top of the piano. The only difference between this time and the last was the absence of Jake.
"I'm going to ask you something different this time," Morley said. He checked, again, his fastidiousness annoying the impatient Ford, that the iMac was properly recording before he continued. "Do you remember the day you revisited last week?"
"Yes," Lizzie said, in her sleepy voice.
"I want you to return to that life. Try to recall a day not too far past Zvolen's attack. Can you recall an important day?"
"Yes," Lizzie said.
"Where are you? Can you tell me where you are?"
"I'm in the park."
"And what are you doing there?"
"Talking to that jackass Lambert. He wants to take over my case so I play along with him. I have a witness."
"She's proving my point," Ford said. "She's somehow picking up on my thoughts. That was two days ago."
"Let's try another day," Morley whispered. "Lizzie, you're doing fine. I would like you to leave that day. Is there another around that same time that stands out?"
"Yes."
"Good," Morley said, scribbling notes. "Good. Where are you?"
"I'm outside the Electric Bean. It's the arcade of the new millennium."
"It's a cyber-cafe," Ford offered. "I go there to play games. I'm going there tomorrow as a matter of fact."
"Ah," Morley replied. "Well, there must be something important about that day. Lizzie, can you take us forward an hour or two?"
"Yes," Lizzie said. "I'm having lunch at Skai Hai Thai. The barbequed chicken. Peak Gai Yang. Phuong is talking about the internet. She says it's evil because her grandson was watching violent videos. She's telling me about..."
"Lizzie," Morley said. "Can you move forward a day?"
"Yes."
"Where are you now?"
"I'm driving out to Sebastopol to find Joshua. I love the drive to Sebastopol. The farms on Highway 12 are a nice change from San Francisco's streets. I'll trade the smell of car exhaust for horse shit any day."
"I'm sorry," Morley said to Ford. "I guess she's just having an off day."
"Hey," Ford replied, smiling. "It happens. But I wasn't planning on driving out to Sebastopol and I don't know anyone named Joshua."
"Lends credence to your theory about her reading your mind. She ran out of material so she's making it up now."
"Let's see where she goes with it," Ford said. "We still have her for another fifteen minutes. I'm up for a good story."
"Do you have your club card on you?" Ford asked Simonyi as they entered Safeway. "I left mine at home."
"So?" Simonyi asked.
"Carffee's on sale. Club members save almost a buck," Ford said, leading them down the beverages aisle.
"Well, it's not my fault you left your card," Simonyi said, ignoring Ford's incredulous stare.
"I'm not asking you to pay for it," Ford said, lifting a four-pack of Carffee off the shelf. "I just want to use your card so I can get the discount."
"No," Simonyi replied. "They keep records of your shopping habits you know. I don't want them to think I like that stuff."
"Who's they?" Ford asked.
"You know," Simonyi said. " 'They.' Whoever it is that compiles that kind of data."
"You've been reading far too many Clancy novels," Ford said.
"You can use my card," Jake offered as they got in line.
"Thanks Jake, you're a real pal, unlike certain..."
A screaming woman outside diverted his attention before he finished the thought. They looked past the register and out to the parking lot where a woman was frantically trying to explain something to a man in a Safeway smock. A handful of people, either heading in or heading out, stopped to listen. One man looked at his wife and, with another Safeway employee, ran off in the direction the woman had pointed.
"I'll go check it out," Jake said.
A second later, as Ford was getting his change and grumbling about Jake forgetting to give him his Club Card, Jake returned. He was shaking his head.
"What's going on?" Ford asked.
"Looks like the serial killer struck again. She spotted someone dumping something behind the store, it's a body."
Ford looked at Simonyi and the three ran out the front door. The manager was trying to calm the woman down while a small crowd of gawkers were gathering at the corner as if daring each other to go around and have a look. Simonyi noticed and headed over to shoo them away. Ford and Jake turned their attentions to the woman.
"Ma'am," Ford said, pulling his badge folder out. "I'm detective Ford, and this is detective Cisneros."
"You guys got here fast," the manager said.
"Your tax dollars at work," Jake replied.
"Can you tell us what kind of vehicle you saw?"
"Ford," she said. She had obviously calmed down a lot and had more of her wits about her. "Yes, yes, it was a dark blue Ford van, the kind with the plastic luggage case on top. There was a stripe down the side. I noticed that as the guy got back in."
As she was describing it, Jake smacked Ford's shoulder and pointed to a van sitting at the red light next to Fort Mason. When she was done talking, Ford pointed to it.
"Did it look like that one?" he asked her.
"Yes!" she said. "Just like that!"
Without checking to see if Jake was coming, Ford ran to the Misery Machine and hopped in. Jake leapt into the passenger side as he started the engine.
"Hey Starsky," Ford said. "Reach under your seat and get the flashy light and put it on the roof."
Jake complied and the Misery Machine took off into traffic. The van ahead of them pulled out toward the highway and it was two blocks before they could get through traffic to catch up. The driver, apologetic, pulled into the next parking lot and turned his engine off. Ford drew his gun and hopped out, pointing both the gun and his badge at the driver's door.
"Get out of the car now!" he yelled.
"Hey, okay! Easy!" the driver said. He opened the door, then stuck both his hands through the space before getting out. "Just take it easy. I swear it was yellow when I entered the intersection."
The guy was in his mid- to late-twenties. His hair, long and black, was pulled into a pony-tail and topped with a Giants cap. His jeans and shirt were smudged with something dark.
"Jake," Ford said as Jake got out. "Check the back."
Jake, nodding, approached the back of the van. The handle wasn't locked. There were thick, plastic sheets piled on the bottom and Jake started rummaging through them. Suddenly, he leapt back from the van. Ford could see in the headlights that his shirt and jacket were covered with blood.
"Put your hands on the vehicle and spread your legs," Ford said. "You have the right to remain silent."
"What did I do?" the guy asked. He seemed on the verge of tears.
"Your van is full of blood," Jake said. He seemed on the verge of retching.
"Of course it is!" the guy yelled. He slapped the side of the van. "I just made a delivery!"
Jake turned on the Mag-light keychain on his belt and shined it at the van. Written on the side, in large letters, was "Ross Pig Farm, Sebastopol."
"You always make deliveries this early?" Ford asked.
"Yes!" the man yelled. "The stores need to cut their portions before the morning rush."
"Jake," Ford said. "Fish should have his radio. Get on the one in the car and ask him to ask the manager back there if they got a delivery of ham and/or pork and where it came from."
Jake nodded and hopped back in the Misery Machine. Ford kept his gun raised and the man kept sweating. A moment later Jake returned, shaking his head.
"Let him go," he said. "This is pig blood ruining my suit. The woman changed her story. She didn't actually see the guy dump the body, just saw the van leaving."
"Aw Christ," Ford said, lowering his gun.
"Does this mean I can go now?"
"Yeah, yeah," Jake said. "We're sorry, but, well, you know."
"Right," the guy said. "Just doing your jobs."
"Radio Fish," Ford said, putting his gun away. "Tell him I'm going to take you back to your place for a clean shirt. You look like some demented vampire."
He stood for a moment in thought while Jake turned back toward the van. After a moment, Ford followed.
"One other thing," he said, interrupting Jake's conversation with Simonyi. "Tell him to tell Lambert that makes two on my turf. One more and we're tied."
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