An Apple for Zoe: Book One ~ The Forsaken

right away.'

'We're on our way. Oh, and Cap, one more thing. I think it's time we found out just who in the hell is Rolan Chessman.'

Chapter Twenty-One Rolan Chessman

James sat parked on the side of the road, listening intently to his voice mail messages. As he heard the missed call from Kirkland's number his face became white as chalk. Summers noticed his reaction and instantly James threw the car into gear and flipped on the silent police lights as he began to navigate through the streets of San Francisco to Kirkland's home.

'What's going on?' asked Summers.

'Apparently someone doesn't want Charlie talking to anyone. An inmate tried to burn him this morning.'

'You're kidding?'

'I wish I were,' said James, turning the car away from the station. 'Can I can drop you off for about half an hour, Ashton?'

'Where are you going?'

'I need to check on something and I don't want your investigation to become compromised.'

'No, I'll go with you.'

'Seriously Ashton, I'd rather do this alone. It's personal.'

'It's personal now for me too, Tom. Whatever it is you need to do, you can trust me. I know something has you spooked and it's not Charles Manson.'

'Okay look, I know this will sound crazy, but I just missed a phone call from Michael Kirkland.'

'Your partner? I thought he died in the hotel.'

'The call, it came from his house.'

'Was it Kirkland? What did he say?'

Both James and Summers were startled by ring of her cell phone. 'Agent Summers here. Sure just one second. It's Captain Shelton again.' James reached over and took the phone. 'Yeah Cap, what's up?'

'Tommy, I just got a call from the warden over at Quentin he said they reviewed the security tapes. No one attacked Manson. The asshole lit himself on fire.'

'He burned himself? That doesn't make any sense at all,' said James.

'Warden said Charlie did it at 11:13 a.m. exactly, same as the fire here in the station,' stated Shelton. There was a brief pause on the phone. 'Tommy you still there?'

'Yes, I'm still here.'

 'What the hell do you think it means?' Captain Shelton asked.

'Cap, I have to check something out, Agent Summers and I will be back in an hour.'

'No, I want you back here right now. There's some heavy weather coming Tommy, don't fuck around. I don't need to lose another detective today,' she demanded. James dropped, the handset and spun the car around a sharp corner, accelerating up the hill to Kirkland's house. The front bumper scraped the curb as he screeched to a stop and climbed out of the car. Summers quickly tried to keep pace. 'Tom, slow down and tell me what the hell is going on.'

James didn't listen to Summers. He was practically running to Kirkland's house and when he reached the door, he kicked it, hard, without knocking. Summers made her way up the stairs and met James as he was gaining entrance to Kirkland's home.

'Hey you realize this is illegal right?'

'Not if a Federal Agent suspects a known felon to be hiding inside,' said James.

Both officers drew their guns and slowly made their way inside the house. The entire place was trashed. Garbage was dumped upside down on the floor. The furniture was turned over and broken.

'Someone was here looking for something,' said Summers as she made her way deeper into the small living space. James looked at the mess. Holes were punched into the walls and it looked as if someone had sprayed some graffiti while they were wrecking the place. James stopped suddenly as he noticed a painting over the fireplace.

'What is it?' asked Summers.

James pointed, 'That painting doesn't belong there.' Summers looked up noticed the back of a large piece of artwork. It had been hung up oddly, causing the image to face the wall. The picture wouldn't be visible unless you picked it up and turned the frame over. Written on the back of the canvas in black were words James could not make out.

    AAOUO, „‰A ‡I„AI? IA I‡OUUOEU

'What the hell is that?' he asked.

Summers looked curiously at the odd writing.

 'That, my friend, is Russian.'

James looked at her confused. 'Russian?' he asked. Summers nodded. 'It says, The Place Were Angels Will Not Step or stand, something like that.'

'You read Russian?' he asked. She smiled back at him. 'Read it, write and speak it fluently. It was part of my training. Does it mean something to you?'

'Yes it does. Those very same words were written on a can of film, but were in German. In Nazi script, no less. I found it in the crawlspace inside Room 1220 at The Aleris Hotel.'

'Have you seen the film yet?'

'No, I put the can inside my jacket pocked, that was before...' James paused as it made him think of the events that followed.

 'Before what?' asked Summers as she used the camera on her phone to capture the image of the Russian script. James quickly changed the subject. 'What's on the other side of this thing?'

Summers turned the painting over and immediately recognized the image 'It's the 'Witches Sabbath' by Goya.'

James felt a sick feeling come over him as he looked at the painting. There were several old women surrounding a large goat that stood on its hind legs. Some of the women were holding dead infants. Other women waited in a line with living babies. In the distance there were three dead infants being hung by the neck from a spear impaled in the desert sand. It appeared that the women were sacrificing the children to the goat.

'You said this didn't belong here. How can you be sure?'

'I've been here a thousand times and Mike would never have anything like this in his home. He's a Christian. Something like this would disgust him.'

'So what was here on the fireplace before?'

'A painting of Jesus with the children.'

Summers looked at the painting again. It was obvious that this was the absolute antithesis of the image Kirkland had placed here before. Summers felt there was a definite message being presented here.

'Let's keep looking,' said Summers.

 The two investigators resumed their search of the house. James pushed through the garbage and overturned furniture as he made his way into Kirkland's bedroom. The door was partially open. Quietly he pushed the door open. The room was as much of a disaster as the rest of the house. James stepped inside and stopped when he saw fresh writing on the wall above Kirkland's bed.

James stepped over and lightly touched the dripping wet words. To his fear it was exactly as he suspected, the writing on the wall was blood. James called out to Summers.

'Agent Summers, I've got another one for you in here.'

Summers moved as quickly as she could to get through the house without tripping. Finally reaching the bedroom she immediately saw the writing. She looked at James and then back to the wall. The fear in her eyes was apparent.

'It's Russian again, isn't it?' asked James.