Mar 3

Mar 3 A Brother's Obsession - Christopher Coates

A Brother's Obsession by Christopher Coates

Book excerpt

The young man with nearly shoulder-length blond hair sat behind the wheel of an older silver Toyota sedan in a small parking lot on the outskirts of Tucson, Arizona.

The lot was away from homes and businesses and was where hikers parked so they could explore the desert trails.

As he waited, he watched as the sun started to rise. He’d fantasized about this day for several years, and today he was finally ready.

His heart rate increased because of the excitement of what he had planned. He’d already been parked here for close to 30 minutes, and his anticipation was almost uncontrollable. Mumbling to himself, he repeatedly tapped on the steering wheel, his anxiety needing a release.

While waiting, he imagined who the next person to park would be. Male or female, old or young, it didn’t matter; he just wanted to begin.

Six minutes later, a small blue Ford pickup truck pulled in and parked at the far end of the small packed-dirt lot, bringing a smile to the man’s face.

A man in his mid-thirties stepped out of the truck and casually walked toward the hiking trail, inserting earbuds as he went. The newcomer didn’t look familiar, but that made no difference.

The younger man climbed out of the sedan and put on an old green ball cap. He slipped on a tan vest with large, bulging pockets and took the small, camouflaged backpack from the front floorboard. He opened it and removed three items. The first was a strange-looking pistol that he tucked into the rear of his pants, the second a two-foot-long metal tube, and lastly, a stopwatch that he hung by its cord around his neck.

Moving rapidly, with his barely perceptible limp not slowing him down, he pursued the man who’d already moved out of view on the trail. He soon had the man in sight again and moved along as quickly and silently as possible.

The dirt path had a few hills and turns. Buried rocks were sticking up a few inches in places, creating trip hazards if a hiker wasn’t paying attention. A few feet off the trail, a dozen or more species of cacti grew, some well over 150 years old. As he walked, he took out the odd gun and screwed the long tube to the end, giving the handgun a crazy-looking two-foot barrel. Next, he reached into his vest pocket and took out a device that resembled a two-way radio but with six antennae coming out of the top. As soon as he flipped the switch, the cellular jammer began emitting powerful radio signals on many frequencies that were strong enough to disrupt all cellular and radio devices in the immediate area.

He watched with satisfaction as the hiker slowed, took out his temporarily impaired phone and pondered its useless state.

Because of the earbuds his quarry wore, the young man was able to get within 20 feet before being detected – well within the range of the tranquilizer gun, which he was already aiming.

Before the hiker could turn, the man pulled the trigger, and the pressurized CO2 cartridge fired the four-inch dart, which flew 20 feet to the unsuspecting man.

Designed to deliver medication to cattle, the needle easily penetrated the man’s T-shirt and delivered its payload into the trapezius muscle in his upper back.

The assailant watched as the projectile hit its mark, pleased at how smoothly his attack had gone. As the hiker flailed around, reaching for the dart in his back, he reloaded the gun, certain another dose wouldn’t be needed but wanting it ready, just in case.

“What’d you do? What’s this?” the now-terrified hiker yelled while holding up the expended dart.

The attacker smiled inwardly, feeling victory approaching. He remained silent as his victim continued yelling at him and then again looked at his useless phone. Now it was simple, stay out of reach until his target dropped, then the critical part of the plan would begin.

Stepping off the trail, the pursuer, holding the tranquilizer gun, gave his victim room to return the way he’d come, should he choose to do so.

The hiker yelled some more and then sprinted back in the direction of his truck, choosing not to confront the man who was still pointing a weapon at him. As he headed towards the parking lot, he passed his assailant, who allowed him to continue by.

As the target fled, hurrying towards his car, the man with the tranquilizer gun realized he’d forgotten something and reached for the stopwatch dangling around his neck. He’d intended to start the timer as soon as he fired. He wanted an idea of how long it took for the drug to incapacitate its victim. But, in the excitement, he’d forgotten. Mentally chastising himself, he started it now, deciding to add 10 seconds to the final time. He returned to the trail and followed the man, grinning as he saw him begin weaving and then drop.

Quickly approaching, he paused the stopwatch, seeing it had been only about a minute since he’d fired the gun. He knew the dart had delivered a lethal dose of the drug, so he needed to complete his task before death took the man.

Rolling his prey so that he faced up, the man saw his victim’s eyes rolled back in his head. His target was still breathing, but it was slow and shallow, so he knew he needed to hurry. Setting the pistol on the ground at his side, he removed a full-size spray can from his vest’s oversized pocket. With an ear-to-ear grin, he popped off the cap. He pulled off a four-inch, L-shaped tube he’d attached to the side of the can with a rubber band and screwed it on to the short stub sticking out of the top of the can.

As he completed this, he heard a gasp and the words, “Oh no! What happened?”

Startled, he jerked his head up and, to his horror, he saw a petite African-American woman jogging up, dressed in a tank top with shorts and running shoes.

Quick to improvise, the shooter said, “Hurry! He collapsed. Give me a hand.”

The woman approached, and he concealed the spray can between his victim’s arm and body.

“What can I do?” the jogger asked.

Grabbing the pistol at his side, he aimed at her approaching thigh and fired. She was less than 10 feet away, but in his haste, he missed her flesh and instead hit the fanny pack she wore near her hip. The dart injected its deadly contents harmlessly into the pack.

Confused but recognizing the danger, the jogger turned and sprinted back toward her car.

Cursing, the man sprang to his feet and took off in pursuit. The situation was getting out of control and he needed to fix it fast. He reloaded the tranquilizer gun as he ran. This was the last dart he’d brought, so he needed to make it count.

Having been a sprinter in school, he caught up before the parking lot was in sight and fired into the back of her leg, causing her to stagger as she received the full dose of the deadly substance.

When she stumbled, the killer moved to get in front of her and point the now empty pistol at her.

In a state of near panic and being unfamiliar with weapons, all the woman knew was that she had a gun pointed at her, and she stopped running.

As she instinctively pulled the empty dart out of her leg, he said, “No talking. Now turn around and go back to the guy on the ground.”

Even though partly winded, he managed to keep his voice calm and controlled.

“Why are you doing this? What was in this thing?” She asked with terror in her voice as she held the empty dart up.

Staying calm and using the most menacing voice he could manage, he answered, “If you don’t want to get shot again, stop talking and head back.”

Following his instructions, she turned around and made it about halfway back before her gait changed and she started weaving.

Seeing this, he took his concern off her and sprinted back to his first victim. Reaching the man’s side, he glanced back and saw the woman face-down on the path. He allowed himself to relax. The crisis seemed under control for the moment.

The fear that someone else might come up the path almost made him give up and flee back to his car. But this morning’s effort had been too long in coming, and his obsession with what he was doing forced him to carry on

Retrieving the spray can from where he’d set it, the assailant stuffed the rigid tube attached to the top of the can several inches into the man’s left nostril and squeezed the trigger. As he did, he realized something was wrong. The man had already stopped breathing.