Patricia Sutton stands at the opening of the tree line to the driveway, staring back at the house. Flames lick the air surrounding the house as a myriad of smoke in various shades of white, gray, and black billows into the pale-blue sky. Two cars race up behind her, sirens blaring and lights blasting red light on everything they touch. Three men exit the rear vehicle as it skids to a halt. The lead vehicle, a local marked patrol car, slides sideways to avoid her. The local officer’s weapon is drawn, pointed at Patricia. The officer calls out to her, “Hands in the air!” She draws a deaf ear to the command, as she just stares at the blaze in front of her. Yellowish-orange flames wrap around every board of the structure. Almost instantaneously, the center collapses, and the exterior walls cave inward, sending glowing sparks and ash out into the surround ing yard and a hundred yards into the sky above. “At ease, Officer Jones,” FBI Special Agent Nathan Bedford, the driver of the second vehicle, calls out from behind. “She is one of ours. The woman we are looking for, Officer Patricia Sutton. Radio in the fire. I doubt much will be left by the time the fire company arrives, but we need to hope we can save any evidence inside that we can.” Officer Jones holsters his sidearm, relaxes, and grabs the patrol car’s radio. John Beaumont comes racing from behind toward Patricia. “Officer Sutton! Patricia, are you okay?” He gets around and stands in front of her, blocking the view of the house ablaze. Her eyes maintain that thousand-yard stare men in combat get after witnessing the unthinkable. Officer Jones and Nate move the cars out of the drive for the fire and rescue squads that would be barreling up the road any moment. Twenty minutes later (but it seems like hours), sirens are heard coming 1 Lawrence newton the heroine, the Badge, the demon within up the long driveway. Two engines and a tanker position in front of what remains of the building, forming a barrier in almost a Y forma tion. Immediately, the firemen saturate the building’s skeletal remains. John, Chris, and Nate are all trying to get the attention of Patricia as she just stares straight into a space of unimaginable pro portions. Patricia watches the fire engulf the house; the heat is so intense she feels her skin burn, almost melt. She hears the approach ing cars, the command from the uniformed officer, and John trying to get her attention. But in her head, all she hears is the laughing of the demon Alastor, a deep guttural laugh that is inhuman. During pauses of laughter, he speaks to her, “Now you are my vessel. Oh, goodie.” As gleeful as a child getting a piece of candy, in as sinister a way as possible. “Now you can pick up where that dope Francis left off. Killing! And filling my father’s kingdom with new fresh souls. Oh, how fortunate am I that I get to try out new forms every few decades.” Alastor continues on and on while Patricia just stands there watching the house burn with an intensity she has never witnessed before from a fire. Stud following stud, layering itself as the building collapses in on itself. John Beaumont approaches Patricia and stands in front of her, leaning down to look her right in the eye. “Officer Sutton!” he yells to get her attention with a worried tone in his voice. “Patricia?” “Yes? Yes, sir,” Patricia snaps out of her trance. “Officer Sutton, are you okay?” John asks. “Umm…yes, sir. Just a bit shaken up, I suppose,” Patricia responds. “Well, let’s get you checked out,” he says as he leads her to an ambulance that just arrived. The EMTs drape her in a blanket for warmth and dignity purposes, as she is still dressed in her undercover outfit from the night before. Nate Bedford walks up. “Officer Sutton? I am not sure if you remember me…,” he says. Chris is standing right behind him. “Special Agent Bedford and Special Agent Bennett. Yes, I remember you both,” she replies. “Was the man who took you Francis Fleming?” Nate asks. “Francis, yes. I am not sure I ever caught his last name,” she responds. A look of knowing surprise is exchanged between Nathan and John. “Patricia, is or was he still inside?” John asks. “Yes,” she says. “I killed him.” “You what?” Chris says from the back. John and Nathan grab Chris and pull him to the side. The three have a side conference about the best way to proceed. “Easy, Chris. She has been through a lot,” Nate says. “Yeah, I’m sorry I overreacted,” Chris replies. “I think the best thing is for us to wait till we debrief her and get all the details. We all know it is best to get as many details as possible when they are fresh in a person’s mind. But I’ve seen this look in her eyes,” John says. Nathan nods in agreement. “Yeah, it’s that look we all had that day in Nam.” They look on as the firemen put out the blaze on the house and the ambulance crew continues to look over Patricia. Newly arrived Sheriff Hansen joins the conversation. “Gentlemen,” Sheriff Hansen addresses the group. “What the hell happened here?” “As we were driving up the road, we heard the pop-pop of the explosions and then saw the house engulfed in flames. Officer Sutton was standing in the drive as we pulled up,” Captain Beaumont remarks. “That’s what my deputy basically said too,” the sheriff replies. “Crazy. Is Francis in there?” “Yes, but he is dead,” John says. “What the hell happened?” Sheriff Hansen asks again, almost rhetorically at this point, knowing full well the details would all have to be sorted out. Captain Beaumont and the FBI agents ignore his second request in knowledge. “Sheriff, if you don’t mind, as soon as the EMTs clear Officer Sutton, I think we will be taking her back to Chicago. I would like to do her debrief back at headquarters,” John states. “You are welcome to use the station, if you like,” Sheriff Hansen offers. 2 3 Lawrence newton the heroine, the Badge, the demon within “We appreciate the offer, Sheriff, truly we do, but it is clear that Officer Sutton is pretty shaken up over the night’s events, so we pre fer to give her a minute to collect her thoughts and set her up in an environment she is more comfortable with,” Nathan explains. “Sure, I guess. But she is a witness in this, and I have reports to do also,” Sheriff Hansen points out. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Sheriff. Clearly, this case is for the FBI. If you don’t mind, I would like to call the office in Chicago to send some agents and a forensic unit over to conduct the investigation,” Nathan states. “Also, if it would not be too much trouble, I would like to talk to the fire chief as soon as he is available. We don’t want any contamination of the scene more than can be helped.” “Sure.” Disappointment saturates his tone as the sheriff walks in the direction of the fire chief. A case like this puts a law officer on the map, and to be overruled by the FBI from the start is a bit disap pointing. But Sheriff Hansen is also wise enough to know that this is clearly a case that is under FBI jurisdiction, and to argue otherwise would be pointless. “Sir?” A man dressed in a long oiled leather coat, knee-high rub ber boots, and a white fireman’s helmet with “Chief” crusted over approaches. “I was told by Sheriff Hansen you wished to speak to me?” “Yes, Chief,” Nathan starts. “We understand all fires must be investigated as to the cause and nature of the fire. We intend to have a team of FBI agents and a full forensics team out here, if not today, first thing in the morning. We ask that you keep your report as sim ple as possible and do not tamper with any of the evidence.” “It goes against protocol, but what would you prefer I do?” the fire chief asks. “Touch nothing,” Nathan states. “In fact, this entire property is considered a crime scene. So, Sheriff, if you can spare a few men to ensure no one accesses this property until the FBI team arrives, that would be great. Chief, we understand you have to ensure the fire is out, but once that is determined, leave the rest to the FBI investi gation, please.” Nathan throws in that last bit because being polite might win over their cooperation. “Yeah, I will see who is interested in some overtime and estab lish a watch.” He is clearly disappointed. “Officer Jones!” he calls. Sheriff Hansen provides the officer details and sends him back to the office. Chris chimes in, “Can I ride back with your deputy so I can start making calls?” “Good idea, Chris. Thank you,” Nate says. “Not much choice for me, is there? Sure thing, Special Agent Bennett,” Sheriff Hansen says as Chris is already jogging after Officer Jones. “Gentlemen, I do have one favor in the good nature of open disclosure. Am I entitled to your reports when they are complete?” Sheriff Hansen asks. “I do have a community to answer to.” “I don’t see why not, Sheriff. We do appreciate all your hospital ity and efforts to assist,” Nathan answers. With that, Nathan and John head back to the ambulance. “How is she, Doc?” John asks one of the EMTs. “She is cleared to go,” the EMT replies. “Great. Officer Sutton, care to join us?” John asks. “Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here,” she says, clearly coming out of her fog completely. They all head for the rental car. After climbing in, they place Patricia in the back while Nate drives and John assumes the passenger seat. They head to Asbury’s police station. John and Patricia wait in the car while Nate runs inside to check on Chris. Moments later, they come out. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m starving,” Chris says. “And it’s a hell of a ride back to Chicago.” Patricia just looks blankly out the window of the rental. “Patricia? Would you like to get something to eat?” John asks from the front of the car. “Only if I can get out of these clothes,” she responds. They all chuckle in understanding. They stop at the local five-and-dime for Patricia to pick out some clothes. Down the street, they stop at the local diner and have the first meal any of them have had in almost twenty-four hours. As they climb back into the rental car, Chris, who is now driving, exclaims, “Next stop, Chicago!” 4