Memory Man

“There are lots of others like me. People like me can get justice too.”

Decker nodded. “What name do you go by now? Or do you want me to just call you Wyatt?”

“You can call me Belinda. You’re from that time. Not from this time. Not much longer, anyway.”

“Okay, Belinda. And Leopold here introduced you to ‘Justice Denied’?”

Wyatt now looked surprised. “How could you know that?”

“Well, for starters it’s a foreign-based site. And Leopold is Austrian. His family was murdered. He actually started the site. Some of the word choices on there show that English was not the creator’s first language.”

Wyatt and Leopold exchanged a glance.

Decker shifted a bit in his seat. “You know, it would have been easier for you to just kill me,” he said. “And leave my family alone.”

“No one left me alone,” said Wyatt. “No one.” He drew a knife from his pocket and held it up. “I used this to kill Giles Evers. His father should be getting a package in the mail any day.”

“He disappeared a long time ago. What have you been doing with him all this time?”

“Things,” said Wyatt. “Just things.” He looked like he wanted to smile, but it didn’t seem that he could manage it.

“I don’t think Clyde liked his son all that much. Giles sort of ruined his life.”

Wyatt stood, walked across the room, and jammed the knife into Decker’s thigh.

Decker screamed. When Wyatt worked the blade around he cried out more, cursing and twisting in the chair trying to free himself. Wyatt finally withdrew it and Decker slumped over and threw up from the shock of it.

“I didn’t hit the femoral,” Wyatt said calmly, retaking a seat on the crate. “I know where it is. Trust me. I read lots of medical books. And books on embalming,” Wyatt added. He tapped his temple. “And as you know, we never forget. Anything.”

Leopold said, “And you don’t get off that easy.”

He duct-taped the wound, though blood continued to bubble along the edges.

Ashen-faced, Decker lifted his head.

Wyatt was staring at him. “So you think his fucking life was ruined? Is that what you think?”

“Not as much as yours, no,” gasped Decker, spitting vomit out of his mouth. Things were starting to accelerate now. He could afford no more mistakes. He eyed Leopold. “How many people like Belinda have you helped find justice?”

“Not enough.”

Decker used his mind to compartmentalize, to will the effects of the pain away, for just a few minutes. He needed clarity of thought. He needed to be able to say what he needed to say. Otherwise, it was over.

“It was good that you were in jail when the murders happened. To my family and at the high school. The judge let you go because you had an ironclad alibi.”

Leopold said, “My friend here wanted to do the honors. It was only right.”

“So, contrary to what you said, you don’t do everything together. Not when it comes to the actual crimes. We have evidence against Belinda, physical evidence, but nothing against you.”

“You have nothing against me,” said Wyatt sharply.

“Your parents were murdered. The doctor who attended you at the institute was murdered. I understand why you killed him. He took advantage of you. Another supposed protector who hurt you. And you left your handwriting at multiple places. And we got your print off the mop bucket at the 7-Eleven. And another from the bathroom at the bar where you were working as a waitress.” Most of this was a lie, but it didn’t matter. He looked at Leopold. “But nothing on this guy. But like he said, you wanted to do the honors while he stayed safely in the background.”

Leopold stood and gazed at Wyatt. “I think it’s time to end this.”

Decker quickly said, “Clyde Evers paid your parents six million dollars to keep quiet about what his son did to you. The house in Colorado cost one-point-eight million. They didn’t make any improvements to it. We checked their financial records. Their expense burn rate was only about twenty percent of the amounts thrown off by their investment portfolio. The rest just accumulated over time. Stocks did well. By the time you killed them they had over ten million in liquid assets. But someone got his hands on the authorization codes to start taking money out. About a million a month and counting over the last nine months. It’s almost all gone now. Did you take it, Belinda?”

“That was bribe money to keep my parents quiet. And they told me if I said anything they would make sure the whole world knew I was a freak. They’d…they’d taken pictures of me down there. They said they would send it to the newspapers. So no, I didn’t take the money. I didn’t want that…that blood money. My blood!”

“So I wonder where that cash went? Maybe your buddy here knows.”

Wyatt’s gaze darted to Leopold and then back at Decker.

“I don’t understand anything you’re talking about,” Wyatt said mechanically.

“Leopold has apparently helped lots of folks with ‘Justice Denied.’ And the folks he helps have two things happen to them. First, whatever money is around disappears. Second, the friend he’s helping ends up dead.”