The Time Killer

Three

                                                                        Lexington, KY

                                                                      August 25, 2001

      “I must catch him. That was the sole instructions I received” Ian told me.

      We were in my loft. With the Willis’ murder, I had been surprised to learn that they left the house to me. However, I had decided I would continue to live in the loft. It smells like horses, I enjoy the smell, and it keeps people away.

      Win-win.

      Meetings with Ian were unlike any other I ever had. He didn’t stand so much as hover. I offered him a chair once, but I don’t think he was able to sit. At least not how us apes sat.

      “Received from who?”

      “The Council of Light. They have been the guiding council since we began following the path of the Ancient Ones.”

      I stared at him. I hadn’t known him that long.

      “The Ancient Ones?” I asked, laughing.

      “There’s so much to explain to you. But your vocabulary is so limiting. Only 26 letters in your alphabet! It’s no wonder your planet is constantly fighting! No one can communicate!!”

      I still don’t know the extent of Ian’s powers, but I’m convinced being a magician is one of them. He held out his empty hand, and the small device matching the one he had given me appeared.

      An image slowly materialized. My daddy had a saying ‘always have something nice to say about everybody, even dumbasses.’ “He looks. . . nice.”

      “This is Yorda. He has been the leader of my people for the last nine hundred and fourteen years.” The image disappeared.

      Another slowly developed.

      “This is my brother.” I had never seen a being radiate more evil, except possibly my ex. “The name Cain is the one he is using. He finds it amusing to name himself after your planet’s first recorded murderer.”

      “My people once followed the path my brother now chases. They were the disciples of Muah.” The image disappeared and the device seemed to evaporate.

      “Cain was at the top of his class and greatness was expected of him. However, he chose to create havoc and chaos in the lives of others. I have to stop to stop him, with whatever method I can.”

      “Why do you need me?”

      Again, Ian the magician appeared. On the wall in front of me began a scene I remembered from many years ago. My first meeting with my new Captain.

      “McCoy, I’ve read your file. You are outstanding at what you do. You’re intuitive, smart, and have an incredible memory. Your former Lieutenant said you were the best beat cop he ever worked with, but you sucked as a partner. Captain Williams over at Post 7 said he would rather killers go free than work with you again.”

      Captain Jenkins had been in charge of Lexington PD homicide for only a few years when I got there, but had lived in the Bluegrass State his entire life. “I believe in saying things as plainly as I can. I was warned not to accept your transfer. Then I was told to stop it afterwards I’d already given my ‘yeah’ to it.”

      “Your reputation has preceded you. You was at the top at the academy, you did stellar work as a MP. You worked undercover. But politics is yer undoing. Two of your former partners filed charges with Internal Affairs against you.  What it boils down to McCoy is you say mean things to bad people.”

      I laughed.

      Jenkins’ face relaxed and he laughed briefly. “I agreed to your transfer one,” he held up a very crooked index finger, “because you were instrumental in the cases you worked on, including the Midnight Strangler Case, which made news nationwide. I made a few calls. You figured out the pieces in the Puzzle Winslow case as well as in the Napier Killer one.” He held up a second finger, his ring finger as he was missing his middle finger. “Two, a lot of the same shit was said about me. I shouldn’t be Captain. A few of the old timers wanted me dead.”

      The picture faded.  

      I reported to Captain Jenkins until he was in a LOD shooting last month. We didn’t agree on how to work a case, but I respected him. More importantly, at least for me, is that I liked him.

*                                                  *                                     *                                               *

                                                              Dallas, Texas November 1963

      The Presidential motorcade turned slowly onto Houston Street from Main Street. Thousands of Americans lined the streets, this had been a very beneficial stop so far and although actively engaging with the crowd, the President was running through the speech he would give at the Trade Mart in roughly thirty minutes.

      The lead car in the procession was an unmarked white one, carrying both Secret Service agents and Dallas police officers. The young and charismatic President rode in the second car with the beautiful First Lady Jackie on his left. In front of them were Governor Connally and his wife Nellie. In front of them were the driver as well as the SAIC (Secret Agent in Charge) Roy Kellerman. A third car carrying the Vice President followed behind as well as additional cars containing eight more secret service agents.

      This time, Cain had decided to stand behind a fence in a section that would become known as the Grassy Knoll. He kept his gun hidden until the target was closer. One of the advantages to time travelling is that if you need to know something, you can just pop back a few days and find what you’re looking for.

      The motorcade made a sharp left turn onto Elm Street. The Secret Service had not wanted to use this route, the cars were moving too slow and there were too many buildings with too many windows.  Secret Service Agent Clint Hill rode on the running board on the vehicle behind the president’s car and he continually scanned the surrounding, watching for a flash or a glint of light that might indicate a gun. 

      Behind the grassy knoll, Cain pulled his rifle slowly from his trench coat. No one noticed him, all eyes were focused on the approaching motorcade. He took careful aim. Cain had picked out a spot shortly before the president’s car went under an overpass.  With the automatic rifle he had picked he was able to get off four shots. After the second shot, President Kennedy grabbed his throat. “I thank you for that reference point Mr. President. I must aim just slightly higher now.” With the last one he watched the top of Kennedy’s head explode. As the car sped off, Cain snuck off in the ensuing chaos.