Envy and Wrath
Somerset watched through the glass as Doe talked to his lawyer. Doe was calm and smiling. He looked like any ordinary man. He didn't look like a killer.
Doe's lawyer was asking questions and taking notes. Somerset couldn't hear what they were saying because the rules of American law won't let anybody hear what a criminal says to his lawyer.
Mills and the captain watched over Somerset's shoulder. "When can we question him, Captain?" asked Mills.
"You can't. Because he's saying he did it, it goes straight to the public lawyer's office."
Mills shook his head. "He wouldn't just say he did it. It doesn't make sense. He doesn't feel sorry. Look at him."
"He's not finished yet," said Somerset. The captain laughed. "What can he do in prison?"
"I don't know. But I do know he's not finished yet. He can't be. He's still got Envy and Wrath to go before he's finished."
"Maybe he's already finished. We just haven't found the bodies yet."
"I don't think so," said Somerset. "He likes sending messages. Why would he keep quiet about the last two?"
That afternoon, Mills and Somerset were called to the captain's office. Doe's lawyer, Mark Swarr, was there.
The captain nodded to Swarr. "Tell them," he said. Swarr turned to the two detectives. "My client has told me that there are two more bodies - two more victims, hidden. He says he will only tell where they are to Detectives Mills and Somerset, and only at six o'clock today."
"Why us?" Mills asked. "He says he admires you."
"This is all part of his game," said Somerset. "My client also says that if you don't take his offer, he will plead madness and the bodies will never be found. If you do take his offer, he'll plead guilty to all the murders right now."
"If your client pleads madness," said Somerset, "what you're saying would show that he isn't mad."
"Perhaps," said Swarr, "but think of what the papers would say if the police didn't try to find the bodies of two of his victims."
"If there really are two more bodies," said Somerset. He knew that it was wrong to do what Doe wanted. But he couldn't see any other possibility.
***
Mills and Somerset sat in a police car on the precinct parking lot. John Doe was in the car with them.
A mile away, California and two cops with guns waited in a helicopter. As the helicopter lifted into the air, a uniformed cop gave Somerset the sign to move.
Somerset and Mills had microphones on them. California would be in the helicopter, listening to everything that was said. If anything went wrong, he would be right there.
Somerset drove through the city streets until they left the buildings behind. Twenty minutes later, they were on the freeway, driving through the desert.
***
"Stop here," Doe said. "This will be fine." Somerset slowed down. There was nothing but desert. Further along the road was a long, low building. That was all they could see.
Somerset stopped the car. Doe looked at Mills. "Can we get out now, Detective?" he said.
Mills and Somerset looked at each other. It was hard to know if this was part of the plan or just madness.
Somerset looked for the helicopter, but he couldn't see it. He couldn't imagine what Doe wanted to do here. They were in the middle of nothing, but if anything happened, the helicopter would be there like a cat on a mouse.
Doe was looking back down the road. "What time is it?" he asked.
"Why?" said Somerset. "What are you looking for?" He looked at his watch. It was just past seven.
"It's close," Doe said. "It's coming."
In the distance, a white van was coming along the road toward them, making a cloud of dust.
Somerset took out his gun. "Stay with him," he shouted, and started running toward the van.
Mills pulled his gun and held Doe more tightly. "Wait!" he shouted at Somerset. But Somerset kept going. Mills put his gun to Doe's face. "Don't move!" he said.
***
California tried to hear what Somerset was saying. There was a lot of noise on his radio.
"Delivery van..." he heard. "Don't know what..." Did Somerset need him or not?
***
Doe was strangely calm. "It's good we have some time to talk," he said, and began walking toward Somerset.
"Down!" ordered Mills, pushing Doe to his knees. He kept his gun pointed at Doe while he watched Somerset.
Doe turned his head back. He was still smiling calmly. "I envy you, Detective," he said.
Somerset fired a warning shot into the air. The van stopped quickly. "Get out!" he shouted at the driver. "Get out with your hands over your head. Now!"
The driver got out, hands high. "Don't shoot me!" he cried. "What do you want? Just tell me. I'll give you whatever you want!"
"Who are you?" Somerset kept his gun pointing at the man. "What are you doing out here?"
"I'm working. I'm delivering something."
"Who to?"
Somerset kept his gun to the man's head as he opened the back of the van. "It's that one," the man pointed to a box. "This strange guy gave me five hundred dollars to bring it out here, at seven o'clock exactly. I'm a little late, but..."
"Get it out on the ground," Somerset ordered. "Slowly."
The delivery man put the box on the ground and stepped back, his hands on his head.
Somerset saw that DETECTIVE DAVID MILLS was written on the box.
***
California could hear Somerset through the noise. "There's a box here, it's from Doe... Don't know what... Going to open -"
"Call the bomb department," California told the pilot. "Get them out here quick."
"Should I go down?" asked the pilot.
"No. Wait. He hasn't asked us yet."
***
Mills tried to see what Somerset was doing. The delivery man started to run. Somerset was chasing him away, ordering him to run.
Doe was still talking. "I wish I was an ordinary man," he said. "I wish I had a simple life."
Somerset was on his knees, doing something in the road. "What's going on?" said Mills to himself
Somerset took out his knife and began to open the box. Inside was something heavy with plastic sheets around it. There was blood on the plastic. He looked inside.
'Oh, Christ..." He fell back onto the ground, suddenly weak. Not wanting to look. But he had to look. "Oh, Christ, no..." He felt sick.
Mills could see that something was wrong. He pulled Doe by the shoulder. "Get up! Stand up! Let's go!"
Doe tried to walk, but he couldn't move fast enough for Mills.
"You've made a good life for yourself, Detective..."
"Shut up and walk!" ordered Mills angrily.
Somerset took deep breaths to keep himself from falling. His legs were weak. He held onto the van, his stomach turning over. When he looked up his eyes were full of tears, and he couldn't see clearly, but Mills and Doe were coming toward him. "Oh, God, no, no..."
"Somerset," Mills shouted. "What the hell is going on?"
"Throw down your gun!" Somerset shouted.
"What are you talking about?" Mills shouted back.
Doe was still talking. "I'm trying to tell you how much I admire you... and your pretty wife, Tracy."
Mills turned around fast. "What did you say?"
Doe was smiling.
Somerset ran up to Mills. "Throw down your gun! That's an order!"
"You're retired!" said Mills. "I don't have to listen to you."
He moved closer to Doe, his gun pointed at the killer's chest.
"I visited your home this morning, Detective," said Doe. "You weren't there. I tried to play husband. Tried to be a simple man... but it didn't work. I took something with me though."
Mills's face showed his pain and confusion. He turned to Somerset for some answers.
Somerset held out his hand. His eyes filled with tears. "Give me the gun," he said.
"I took something to remember her by," said Doe. "Her pretty head. I took it because I envy your ordinary life, Detective. It seems that Envy is my sin.'
"It's not true!" screamed Mills, pushing his gun in Doe's face. "Say it! It's not true!"
Somerset pulled Mills away. "I can't let you do this, Mills."
"What's in the box, Somerset? Tell me!"
Somerset couldn't say the words.
"I just told you, Detective," said Doe calmly.
"Shut up!" Mills shouted.
"Become Wrath!" Doe wanted to make Mills more angry.
"Shut your mouth!" Mills hit Doe across the face with his gun.
"This is what he wants, Mills. Can't you see that?"
"Kill me, Detective."
"He wants you to do it," said Somerset. "Don't do what he wants. Murder a suspect, Mills, and you throw everything away.''
"We'll say he tried to run, and I shot him. We'll work out the details later. No one has to know."
"They'll get you, Mills. They won't care who he is. A cop who kills a suspect can't defend himself. Forget about it. You'll go to prison."
"I don't care."
"If you're gone, Mills, who's going to fight the fight?"
"Don't listen to him," said Doe softly. "Kill me!"
"You're wrong," Somerset argued. "Who will take my place if you're not here?"
"Tracy pleaded for her life, Detective. And for the life of the baby inside her."
Mills looked confused. His hands holding the gun were shaking wildly.
"You didn't know?" Doe looked shocked.
Somerset was suddenly tired and weak. "If you kill him, Mills, he wins."
Doe closed his eyes, his hands held together in front of his face.
"Ok... he wins." Mills fired the gun, and the top of Doe's head flew off as he fell backward. Bloody pieces lay in the dusty road.
Mills dropped his gun. He turned and started to walk, but only took a few steps before he fell to his knees, holding his face in his hands.
Somerset looked at the body. A pool of blood spread from what was left of Doe s head. Somerset closed his eyes. He didn't want to see anymore.
***
Two hours later Somerset was still there. There was a circle of police cars with their headlights shining on the crime scene. They had taken Mills away more than an hour ago.
The captain walked over to Somerset. "It's over," he said. "Go home."
"What happens to Mills now?" Somerset asked.
"We'll get him a good lawyer, but he'll go to prison. No doubt about that."
"So Doe did win. He got seven. Eight, if you count Mills.
"Nine actually, if you count the... baby." Somerset had a hard time saying it.
"Go home," the captain repeated. "You're retired now."
"I've changed my mind. I'm staying. I don't want to retire."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." He opened his car door. "See you Monday," he said. He knew he could never leave now. With Mills gone, someone had to stay to fight the fight
by Bruno Anthony