Soul Sucker Ch. 31-End

"He's home all the time, Mom. He also installed a better security system, though they missed my bugs."

"Then wait until he leaves! John can't kill me if he doesn't have the dagger."

I let out a breath. "You could always disappear. We've done it enough times."

She looked around. "I've got a good thing here. We landed a big score, and I don't want to start over. I like being Ingrid, I've got everything I want, and the feeding is easy. It's better if you and Lana have stability in your lives." I couldn't hold back the hint of a smile, and she caught it. "How is Doctor Nicole Peterson these days?"

"Not happy that I broke our dinner date to fly out here," I replied. "She's..."

"The one, isn't she?"

"I think so."

She sat up and put her hand on my shoulder. "Good. You and Lana can't sacrifice your lives for me. As long as I need your services, you aren't living the life you deserve." She stood up, putting on a thin wrap. "I'm heading to the casino. You should go to New York."

"And do what?"

"Steal the dagger when he's gone, of course."

Great. I caught a cab to the airport after lunch, arriving in New York that night.

I dropped in on Reverend Carl for breakfast, leaving another envelope. "Keep the pressure up," I told him. "These grand jurors go home at night. Even if they follow instructions and don't watch the news, they can't avoid the mood on the street. This case has to go to trial."

"It will. The jurors can't avoid hearing us as they arrive. I bet they hear us in the room, too."

The Grand Jury might go on for an hour or days, depending on how many questions go asked and whether John testified. I had my gear for the burglary in a bag.

Nothing happened on Wednesday, but the news revealed that night that John Miller would be in front of the Grand Jury at ten tomorrow morning.

I was waiting across the street when his lawyer and a security team arrived to transport him to the courthouse. There were about fifty protesters out front as John departed the building in his grey suit. I could see the outline of a bulletproof vest under his dress shirt. The protestors lost steam as he drove off.

I walked into the building and headed to the guard in the lobby. "Special Agent Collins, FBI," I said as I flashed the badge. "Do you have access to security cameras?"

"Yes, sir," he said. "Right over here." He scooted the chair over to a console.

"I need a copy of the feed for the last twenty-four hours, all exterior and interior views, to investigate a credible threat. Can you do that for me, or must I involve a judge?" I held out a high-capacity jump drive.

"We cooperate fully with law enforcement," he replied. "I don't have a replacement for the removable drive, though. I'll lose the ability to record during the five to ten minutes it takes to transfer the files."

"Now that the excitement is gone, that should be fine," I replied. "I need to check a few areas personally. I'll be back shortly to get the files." He went to work while I took the elevator to John's floor. On the way up, I pulled on gloves, a mask, and an FBI ballcap. I started my watch timer for three minutes.

Using the lockpicking gun, I was inside the apartment in seconds. The security system started beeping, and I didn't know what would happen when it went off. I ignored it, heading for the bedside table where my recordings said the dagger was.

It wasn't there.

Shit. I headed to the gun safe, thanking God the cameras had caught him punching in the combination. I typed '1987' into the keypad, and it clicked green. I opened the door and found nothing. The NYPD had taken his guns and ammunition, and little remained inside.

Double shit! I was rapidly running out of time. I closed the door and frantically checked other areas in the studio apartment to no avail. The timer on my watch went off, and I headed out the door.

I took the stairs down to the lobby. It was empty, and the security guard was no longer at his station. I could see the elevator going up. Did John's security alarm go to his station, the cops, or both? In any case, the police were not there yet. I reached over, grabbed my data storage, and walked out the door.

I was back in my hotel room thirty minutes later. I called Mom using a burner. "I can't find your Grandfather's knife," I told her. "It wasn't in any of the likely places. I'd have to tear the house apart to find it, and I don't have time."

"That's too bad," she replied. "I hoped it would be in the drawer."

"Do you want me to keep looking?"

"No. Go home and see your girlfriend."

"All right. Love you." I hung up and got on my regular phone to buy a ticket. I wanted to be in the air before John Miller returned to his apartment.

Chapter 41

John Miller's POV

Manhattan District Courthouse

Thursday, March 23, 2023

"That will be all, Mr. Miller."

"Thank you." I stood, nodding to the Grand Jurors, then followed my attorney out of the room. We didn't say anything until the doors were closed, leaving us alone. "How did I do?"

"I wish all my clients were as good on the stand as you," he replied.

"Lots of practice." I looked out the door to where the crowd and the press waited for us. "Probably best if you take this one."

He smiled and led the way. He gave a brief statement about my voluntary appearance and my hope the Grand Jurors would understand better how my actions were reasonable and justified. When he finished, we piled back into the Suburban with our security. I grabbed my phone from where I'd left it in the door and turned it on.

The security system notification popped up first. "Fuck," I said. I opened the application and went to the video archive. In the event of an alarm, all the cameras start recording until there is no motion in the room for ten minutes. "Someone broke into my apartment."

"While we were in court?"

"Yeah." We watched it together, but it didn't say much. The guy wore a suit with an FBI ballcap and a disposable mask. I paused the playback. "See his hands? Surgical gloves and a lock picking gun. This guy is as FBI as you are." I kept playing as he moved into the bedroom to check the bedside table, then the gun safe before rifling through the desk and kitchen drawers. He was out of there in minutes.

"He didn't take anything," the lawyer said. "You should call the cops."

"And tell them what? We can't identify him, and he took nothing. It's probably a journalist looking for a story." I didn't believe that because I knew he was looking for the Dagger of the Lord. He wouldn't find it because it was in Boston with my father. "I'll see if building security has anything more when I get home. The alarm goes to them, too."

"You should at least file a report."

"Fine," I told him to get him to stop. "When do you think we'll know?"

"Not before tomorrow night. The prosecutors will take at least a day to poke holes in your testimony before they vote. Maybe next week? It's hard to tell. It depends on how many witnesses they want to hear from." He looked out the window as we got closer to my apartment. "Asking them to play the surveillance video from beginning to end so you could walk them through what happened was genius. The prosecutor was having kittens, but the Grand Jury insisted. I'm pretty sure they'd only seen portions of it before then."

"I could tell by their reactions." We drove past the police line, and I moved quickly from the car to the building as protestors screamed from across the street. He returned to the office while I checked with our security. They didn't help at all. The guard gave me a description, but the guy wasn't FBI, and the camera footage was gone. Nothing was missing, but one thing bothered me.

How did he know where I kept the knife?

I texted Terry Callahan and asked if he could stop by after work and bring his bug detector. With how easily he'd gotten in, who knows what he might have left behind? I spotted and deactivated two cameras before he arrived. Terry found a third, plus a bug inside my computer. "Did the NYPD put these in?"

"No way," he told me. "Those have to be serialized and tracked. These are high-end, burst-mode devices." He showed me a website; they were over ten grand a pop. "They broadcast through your computer DSL line once a day, probably at night when you aren't using your computer, so you don't notice. It only sends the video from periods with activity in the room. Meanwhile, every communication on your computer was copied and transmitted."

"Do we know where?"

He shrugged. "Anyone smart enough to use this equipment will hide the trail."

I ordered takeout food from my favorite Thai place, and we talked about my case before he had to head home. As he left, I considered what I'd learned.

One. Ingrid Anderson and her people were watching everything I did.

Two. Ingrid's people took the journal from my apartment before the cops came with the search warrant. That's why the journal didn't appear on the list of items seized from me.

Three. With the video and the journal, Ingrid knows who I am. She knows what the dagger can do. Thus, she knows I am the only person who can kill her.

I called Mary before bed, filling her in on my day. I didn't say much else, preferring to wait until the girls got on here Friday after school ended. Heather hoped we could do something over Spring Break, but I couldn't leave the state while on bail.

The Grand Jury didn't vote before the weekend. I met the girls downstairs, grabbing a private seating area in the lobby to tell them what I'd found. "They saw me naked?"

"Maybe, Mary. The cameras were in place before I upgraded the security system last year. Terry said it would only take fifteen minutes to set them up."

They took it in. "What do we do now?"

"We go after them," I said. "I'll need both of you to help."

"How?"

"The same thing I was hoping to do with the insurance cases. Find dead people I can link to Ingrid and take it to the authorities. According to the journal, succubi feed on souls every few weeks to maintain strength and power. She leaves behind adult males who die from 'unknown natural causes.' Ingrid's been cruising the Caribbean on the Street Living since the New Year. I want you guys to trace her movements."

"And what are you going to do?"

"I'll research autopsy reports on the various islands. Hopefully, I can make some patterns appear and convince law enforcement to investigate. To be safe, we won't talk about Ingrid in my apartment or use my computer for research. I want to have some fun and relax."

"I'll be gone half the weekend with showings," Mary said. "You guys are on your own."

"UFC Fight Night on Saturday," I said as Heather bounced in her chair. "Holly Holm is fighting before the main event."

Mary let out a sigh. "May as well watch it with you. I'm a little freaked out about the cameras."

I didn't get laid over the weekend, between the shock of the surveillance and learning that Heather had been overhearing our lovemaking.

I had to beat this case, or I'd be beating off for a LONG time.

The good news finally came on Wednesday with a call from my lawyer. "It's over," he told me. "Grand Jury returned a no-bill. The District Attorney will be making a statement in about thirty minutes."

I let out a breath. It was over. "What now?"

"We go before the judge in the morning to formally get the charges dismissed. They'll remove your ankle monitor at the courthouse. I'll file papers to get your seized property back. The guns might take a while, though. They tend to slow-walk returning firearms."

"What about my Federal retired law enforcement permit?"

"We can file that paperwork as well. That might take a few weeks."

It was better than nothing. I texted Mary, Heather, Terry, and Cathy with the news and asked them to watch the press conference. The DA did the whole 'I have to respect the process and the decision of the Grand Jury' while implying I was guilty of murder.

My family joined me in court as the Judge dismissed the charges. After the bailiff removed my ankle monitor, I hugged them both. "Dinner at OUR HOUSE tonight," Heather said. "I made brownies so we can have Hot Fudge Goopies!"

"Fine. Your Freedom Party is at our place on Friday night. The pool is still covered, but the hot tub is open," Cathy added.

"I'll be speaking to my bosses about your job, assuming you want to return," Terry said.

"Hell, yeah," I replied. I patted Mary's stomach as I pulled Heather to my side. "I've got a family to support."

And a succubus to kill.

Chapter 42

Lonnie Dortmund's POV

Manhattan, New York City

Wednesday, March 29, 2023

I watched the District Attorney's announcement near the back of the protestors led by my bought-and-paid-for Reverend. I was more than a little disappointed. I thought fanning the flames of racial unrest would work, but Mr. Miller was going to walk. Only ten of the twenty-three jurors voted to indict, short of the twelve required to return it.

John Miller's legal woes weren't over. The radicals were already pushing for a Federal civil rights violation case, the fallback position when local officials couldn't give the desired outcome. The family would file a wrongful death lawsuit. It wouldn't matter, so I turned away and started walking.

My strategy to take John out had failed. I pulled out a burner phone and made a call to another burner. Mom picked up after two rings. "You heard?"

"I'm watching the coverage on the satellite," she replied. "Our target will be free now. Our man could even decide to take a beach vacation. We can't allow that."

"What do you suggest?"

There was a short pause. "The time has come for direct action. Keep an eye on him, but let's keep our arrival a surprise."

I had to agree; John Miller was just too dangerous right now. "I'll be waiting."

It had been a week since John discovered the cameras and computer bug I'd put in his apartment. There was no way I was getting in again, so I changed tactics. I took a short-term lease on an apartment across the street from his, one floor higher. I set up a surveillance base inside. Behind the closed curtains, I had a table full of equipment. Two cameras, each zoomed in on a window, fed monitors and a recorder. My radio receiver captured all the cellular telephone calls nearby. And my laser surveillance device was on a tripod, focused on his deck door where I could listen in on the conversations.

The three of us were nervous about what John was putting together. He'd been calling police and health officials and asking about men dying of unknown natural causes during the timeframes corresponding to her port calls. Nobody was going to believe a succubus was cruising the open seas and feasting on men's souls, but it only took one. One suspicious cop, surveillance photo, eyewitness, or DNA left behind? It could all crash down on her.

Mom would starve to death in an all-female prison.

When John left for court in the morning, he put his suitcase in the back of his lawyer's SUV. I knew he was going to Mary's condo in New Jersey after the hearing, so there was no point in following him. Instead, I waited for Ingrid and Lana to arrive. "What is our best chance to get him," Lana asked as she settled onto the couch.

"Not today," I said. "There'll be a bunch of people celebrating with him tonight. We can't get near him. We'd be better off staging a car accident or a mugging. Anything to divert attention away from you and what he was investigating."

"I have to do this," Mom said. "My Master is taking this personally. He wants to take John Miller's soul, so I must get him alone."

"Shit," I said as I leaned back.

"What are his plans?"

I laid out what I knew. John was going to spend tonight at Mary's home. Tomorrow night the three would be at Terry Callahan's home. After that, I didn't know. "Show me Terry's home."

I pulled it up on Google Maps. It was a big suburban home with a large patio, hot tub, and pool in the backyard. A shed near the fence and some privacy plantings kept neighbors from looking in. We kicked around ideas before Mom made the decision.

We'd split up. Mom would take John Miller's soul at the Callahan house, notifying us just before she moves in. Mary would break into the East Orange townhouse, and I'd take the Manhattan apartment. "We only have one chance to stop this," Mom told us. "John has to die, and we must recover the dagger."

"What about the wife and kid," Lana asked. "John's taught them about demon hunting, and they've read the journal."

"They aren't of the right bloodline," I replied. "Without the sight to see the demons, the dagger is useless. The stories in the journal are bad fiction. Only fans of supernatural fiction would believe that a shape-shifting succubus is running around the country, sucking the souls out of rich men."

Lana snorted. "You'd be surprised. They might get a movie deal."

Mom chuckled at that. "Get your rest. Nothing can happen until the guests leave and the kids go to bed tomorrow night. We'll meet back here when done." She reached out and took one of our hands in hers. "I'm so proud of you, and I love you."

"We love you too, Mom," Lana said back.

"And we will do anything to protect you," I added.

I was inside the building early on Friday, taking advantage of the rush of residents returning from work to get past the guard. I hid in a service closet near the elevator for hours while waiting for the phone call on Friday night. A text message from Lana said she was in place. Mom's skills would be tested with a target home filled with adults, kids, and a dog.

It was after midnight when I got the text. "Go in five minutes good luck," it told me.

I put the phone in my pocket and set a timer. I checked my kit, put my mask and gloves on, and left the closet with twenty seconds left. My back was tight from sitting, but it loosened as I walked down the hallway.

Getting old sucked, but living forever was no picnic either.

Thank God the apartment didn't allow tenants to change out the locks. I used my gun and was inside in seconds. I knew from the last time that it didn't call the police. I had my clone of John's phone out and called the security center. "This is Miller in 1987. Ignore the alarm notification you're about to get. The stupid thing isn't resetting."

"Of course, sir." He didn't even ask for a code because the caller ID was right. It was human nature. It was easier to tell someone to ignore an alarm before you get it.

With no worries about being discovered, I took an hour to go through the place with a fine-tooth comb. I didn't find the dagger, but I did find an old sheath that must have held it at some point.

I collected all the notes, books, and photos he had, plus the computer hard drive. When I was satisfied, I walked back across the street. I sat in the apartment, turning on the television to a news channel and drinking a beer while I waited for the girls to return.

Chapter 43

Mary Miller's POV

Terry and Cathy Callahan's New Jersey Home

Friday, March 31, 2023

"I'm so happy this is over," I said as I snuggled closer to John's side on the wide cushioned lounger. The kids had gone off to bed an hour ago. We'd spent the night watching the kids in the hot tub, then taking it over. I couldn't sit in it for more than a few minutes because of my pregnancy, but I wouldn't deny John his soaking time. I could sit on the edge and leave my feet in.

Terry and Cathy went to bed twenty minutes ago, leaving us alone on the patio. It was in the high forties now, but the lounger is sheltered from the wind, and the patio heater made it comfortable as long as I had my big man alongside. I snuggled happily under the fleece blanket. "I didn't like having to live separately."