Where the Blame Lies

Shit, shit, shit! Had he spoken, not to Vaughn Merrick behind that curtain, but Charles Hartsman impersonating the professor? Had it been Charles Hartsman—as he suspected—that Dawn Parsons had seen at the Merrick’s old house? Had he located the professor’s new address and gone there directly after he’d found their old home vacant? Fuck! He stood abruptly, turning, and heading for the door. Jimmy was just walking in from lunch, his expression taking on surprise when he saw Zach. “Hey, I just heard—”

“Let’s go. I think the professor’s life is in danger if he hasn’t already been killed.”

“What the what?” Jimmy sputtered as he followed Zach out the front door and toward his car. As Zach sped to the professor’s house, he updated Jimmy on everything that had transpired in the half hour since his partner had gone out to grab a quick lunch.

“Holy shit,” Jimmy said, looking at Zach from the passenger seat. “He’s his final victim. Casus belli,” he murmured. “The professor performed the act that began the war. It all ends with him.”

“Yes, and if we can get there fast enough, we might catch him.” Only Zach had a sinking feeling in his stomach. The final battle is over now.

Over.

Zach pulled up to the curb directly in front of the professor’s house, he and Jimmy hopping out of the vehicle. Zach jogged to where the unmarked car was parked, a different officer at the wheel than the week before. Zach flashed his badge and introduced himself. “Any activity?”

The officer shook his head. “Not since last week. Seems like the guy is holing up. I heard the university canned him.”

The final battle. Zach’s heart was pumping harshly. “I have reason to believe something’s not right in there,” he said. “I’m going to go in. Stay here, watch our back from the street?”

The guy’s eyes registered surprise. “Yes, sir. Whatever you need.”

Zach jogged away, meeting back up with Jimmy where he waited in front of the professor’s home. “Come on.” They went up the steps, banging loudly on the front door. There was no answer from inside. “Open up, Professor,” Zach yelled, pounding again, giving the guy a chance to get to the door if he was sleeping, or in a more distant part of the house. They waited a moment, eyes meeting when, from deep inside the home, could be heard the unmistakable sound of moaning. Shit.

They both unholstered their weapons. “Break it down?” Jimmy asked.

No time to call for backup. No time to call for S.W.A.T. Zach leaned backward, waving to the unmarked car across the street, hoping the officer would understand his meaning, and make the call. Zach eyed the standard lock, not exactly flimsy, but nothing that couldn’t be kicked in. “Yup.”

“I’ll let you take care of that,” Jimmy said. “I got the brains, you’re the one with the brawn.”

Despite the adrenalin coursing through Zach’s system, he gave his partner a wry look and stood back, taking aim before kicking the door swiftly and with all his strength. The wood splintered, door swinging open.

“One try. Nice, Hercules,” Jimmy said as they both took cover on either side of the doorway. Zach raised his gun as he pie’d the entryway.

“Cincinnati Police!” he shouted.

For a moment there was only silence and then they heard what sounded like a distant moan, and a soft thud. Zach’s gaze flew to Jimmy’s, and Jimmy nodded.

Zach went in first, clearing the area, Jimmy following. The soft moaning was coming from below. They moved through the house, using the tactics they’d perfected during their days in uniform. Adrenalin flowed swiftly through Zach’s veins, his breath coming more quickly as his body geared up for a potential fight.

Jimmy nodded toward a door next to the kitchen where something else made a soft thud from below. He pulled the door open and they both moved to the side. “Cincinnati Police!” Jimmy called down the stairs,

peeking around the doorframe and quickly moving back. He reached his hand around and flipped on a switch and then nodded to Zach. “All clear.”

They moved down the steps, calling out their arrival and sweeping their weapons in both directions once the stairwell opened up.

Zach drew back at the stench that met his nose when they turned the corner of the stairs, into the main room of the unfinished basement.

The sight that met his eyes made vomit move up his throat. He swallowed it down, moving forward, toward the human form that sat propped against the wall, one hand chained behind his back, moaning piteously.

Professor Merrick.

His face was a mask of dried blood, and meaty skin as though he’d been carved up. And his nose was missing, two skeletal holes gaping in the middle of his face. The smell of urine and feces made Zach gag. He’d obviously been sitting like this for several days if not longer. Next to him lay water bottles, some empty, some full. Hydration to keep him alive until he was found.

Holy Christ.

Footsteps sounded above, voices calling out. The cavalry had arrived. As Zach turned to call out their location, he noticed words written on the wall in what looked like the professor’s blood: Bellum finivit. Zach only knew a handful of Latin words, but he could figure that one out.

The war is over.

Zach called out to the officers above, telling them the scene was secure and to call a bus. The professor needed immediate medical attention.