The Confession Of Zakary Jameson

Chapter 9

Agent Alexander Donovan

I stepped out of the large, black van with the yellow "FBI" on the side. Three fellow agents followed me.

In front of me loomed a gargantuan, perhaps nearly seventy stories, hotel that I didn't recognize. Large lettering showed it was the "Blue Moon" hotel and casino.

My team and I approached the hotel doors, ducking under the yellow police tape, and inside.

Immediately, I was greeted with bright camera flashes, overlapping voices, and a large congregation of people gathered against one wall of the lobby. They seemed to be surrounding an elevator shaft.

I began walking towards the crowd, flashing my badge at the hotel manager that was standing a few feet away from the crowd, looking terrified.

I pushed through the crowd of people until I reached the edge of the crime scene.

That's when things got strange.

The elevator shaft was open, but the elevator inside looked like it had been crushed with at least a few tons of force. It had collapsed on itself completely, like a soda can when stepped on. I had never seen anything like it.

To my horror, my eyes fell upon a grim sight. Between the clamped doors, sticking out, was the torso of a man. He had been cut in half by the elevator. His legs were nowhere to be seen. Puddled on blood surrounded the body, making me feel sick to my stomach.

I walked away from the scene, closing my eyes and holding stomach. Once about ten feet away, I stopped and began taking deep breaths. My palms were sweating, and I couldn't get the image of the severed body out of my mind.

"You okay?" I heard a man ask from behind me. I opened my eyes and turned. It was the hotel manager. He had smooth brown hair, a clean-shaven face, and a sad look in his eyes. I cracked a smile, which was completely faked.

"Um, yeah. Just feeling a little..."

"Sick?" He interrupted. I nodded. "Yeah, that seems to be the general reaction here today."

I held up my badge quickly, then but it back into my pocket.

"Agent Donovan, FBI." I stated.

"I'm Clarence Buckman, hotel manager." He told me. I nodded.

There was silence between us as I looked back at the scene.

"So what happened?" I asked. Clarence inhaled deeply.

"We heard a big crash from the elevator shaft, so I ran over and got the door opened. That," he pointed to the elevator, "is what I saw. I have no idea what happened. That elevator had been working fine all morning." Clarence looked down to the floor and closed his eyes. From his expression, I could tell he was clearly troubled.

"I'm sorry about the employee." I said. It must have been terrible to find him that way.

"Thanks. Robert was a good worker." He replied.

"Any family?" I asked. Clarence pointed behind me. I looked.

A man in his mid-forties stood off to the side of the group, holding a sobbing woman in his arms. Behind them stood a teenage boy, tears in his eyes. I could tell by the resemblance that they were Robert's father, mother, and younger brother.

I stared at them for a while, until the father met my gaze. He suddenly released him wife and walked towards me. As he grew nearer, I could see more clearly the pain in his eyes.

"You from the FBI?" His voice sounded strained. I nodded.

"I am. I'm very sorry about your son." The father clenched his jaw and shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Do you know who did it?" He asked. I shook my head.

"It's hard to tell. As far as I know, nothing caught on camera showed anything. Did...did your son have anyone who may have wanted to hurt him?"

A tear ran down the man's cheek, and he shook his head.

"Robert was loved by everyone. Who would want to hurt him?" I nodded.

"Okay thank you. If you hear or find anything, come by the headquarters or call. I turned and started to walk towards the door outside. My nausea had increased.

"Wait."

I turned and saw the father walking up to me with a piece of paper in his hand. I immediately took interest.

"This was in Robert's hand." He said softly as he passed the paper to me.

I took and unfolded it

2-0

-Z

* * *

I burst through the front door of my house and began to walk swiftly down the hallway. Samantha, who I had passed, followed.

"Alex? Are you okay?" The concern in her voice was obvious.

Not able to speak, I turned into the bathroom, which was off the hallway. I opened the toilet and began to vomit violently. Samantha rushed to my side, placing a hand in my back.

"Alex! What happened?" She cried.

A few seconds later I finished, wiped my mouth, and looked to her.

"I'm fine." I said quietly, though I didn't feel fine. I felt sweaty and hot, and my stomach still hurt. My wife pursed her lips, helped me up to my feet, and led me to our bedroom.

"You should rest." She told me. I took off my tie, shoes, socks, and jacket, and lay down in the bed.

I out one hand over my eyes, trying to ignore how I felt.

"This job is getting to you, isn't it?" She asked me. I almost never got sick. I shrugged.

"Well, maybe. I just investigated the severed body of one of Zak's victims." I told her. She clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed. I nodded.

"Yeah. And the trouble is, I have no idea what his next move is."

* * *

Zakary Jameson

I steadied myself against the brick wall of the alley, closing my eyes. My head pounded, and chills rushed through my body.

"Zak?"

I spun around to see Charlotte standing behind me, folding her arms. She was wearing my black backpack. Surprisingly, she looked concerned.

I shook my head.

"I'm fine, Charlotte. Just...go get the car." I growled. She remained where she was.

"It's in the parking lot a block from here." Charlotte told me.

I nodded but didn't say anything. Charlotte cautiously walked towards me, like she was scared.

"What's going on with you?" She asked. I took a step, then stumbled, forcing me to stabilize myself against the wall again.

Charlotte ran to me and put a steady hand on my shoulder.

"Zak! Tell me what's going on!" She cried.

I looked up and, for the first time, felt something I never ha before. Fear.

"I don't know. We have to hurry and get this job done." I struggled to say.

A second afterwards, I collapsed to the ground.