Breaking-in, CH 10 (Patreon)

Johnathan Wagler is off script, has been since he returned to the hospital with a patient. Instead of going out again, he called it a day. That is when I texted Alex to let him know I would be home late. That was five hours ago.

Johnathan doesn’t need to work as a paramedic to afford his lifestyle. His house fits perfectly within the income his investments produce, as does his car and his hobbies. The one thing that spikes above the average is the art he purchases. While not on the level of that of the masters, it is still something slightly above the norm he allowed himself. His one indulgence.

This could explain his need to work as a paramedic, but a careful study of his accounting, courtesy of Asyr, shows that while the art spikes higher than the norm for where his lifestyle, it doesn’t go over what he has access to. He is careful to give the impression he is indulging, while actually ensuring he never goes beyond his means.

I started following Johnathan because of how in breaking with his routine when he brought that woman home; he revealed to me how well crafted he has made his life.

It is not unusual for people in the upper-middle class bracket represented by those living in our neighborhood to have well-structured lives. For many of them, maintaining that lifestyle requires that structure.

I can only identify four people who don’t have a need for such structure to maintain it. Me, Tristan, Helen, and Johnathan.

She is retired and the restriction on her life have more to do with her age, health, and the pleasure she takes in watching her neighbors. I maintain my structure to establish the illusion of normalcy. Alex maintains it because he enjoys the work he does as a white hat hacker, as well as his borderline antagonistic the interactions with his boss.

Why does Johnathan maintain his?

It is not because he loves the work, as Helen believes. Days of watching him interact with his coworkers show him to be perfunctory. No one there has a reason to complain, but he also does not interact with them beyond the minimum his work requires. 

His interactions with the patients picked up by the ambulance are much the same. Efficient is the best descriptive for it. All his patients will live to reach the hospital, but they will not have stories of their hopes being raised by him.

One anomaly I note, as he treated a woman bleeding out, is the level of his skills. I don’t know enough about medicine to be certain, but that injury looked to be deep, an artery. That he stanched the flow would seem to have required more skill than what a paramedic should have.

Asyr found nothing in his history to explain it.

His interactions at the shelters, on the surface, do mark him as a caring man, there to make the life of those less fortunate better. But his behavior is contrary to what I’ve observed before, so I paid closer attention. The warmth is fabricated. A well-crafted mask to lead others to believe he cares.

It is the type of mask I would create if I needed to infiltrate that environment.

So why does Johnathan get out of spending time there? It isn’t required to create the impression to his neighbor he is someone looking out for the needy. Even Helen doesn’t bother with the level of research that would show it was all talk. So long as Johnathan did not contradict himself, she would believe him.

We are now in Encanto. He left his car at the Phoenix College football field parking two hours ago, and has been walking through the neighborhood since. He did the same in Glendale once he left his work, parking at a golf course, then walking around, standing out among the poorer neighborhood.

He stands out on purpose. It’s simple enough to look like someone without means. Faded and ripped jeans, a tank-top. Hunched shoulder, never looking others in the eyes. He’s looked past me twice already and hasn’t paused. I have faded in the background of the area, while he places himself dead center to it.

Why?

What is he searching for?

It is what he is doing, even if he’s skill at giving the impression he isn’t. He plays the role of the lost tourist. He asks for directions from the seedier of the men and women he comes across. Tempts them with the wealth he represents.

I see them evaluating him. Weighing the risk versus reward of robbing a man of such obvious wealth. Until now, they have all been experienced enough to know there is more to this than what Johnathan wants them to see, even if they, like me, don’t understand what is it.

This man will be the one to explain what is going on. I see it in the greed on his face. I’m too far to hear the conversation, but when the man points, there is an eagerness in the motion, an earnestness in his body language.

Possibly this man isn’t smart or experienced enough, or the later hour, the sun being down, gives him confidence, but once Johnathan heads in that indicated direction, the man follows a dozen steps behind. I am three times that behind him.

Johnathan entered the alley without hesitation. The man follows, after checking his surroundings, but his gaze passes over me as if I wasn’t there.

I don’t follow him in. I take position on the other side of the street, where I have a clear line of sight within it. I only see shapes and shadows, but that is enough to tell what is going on. The man picked that alley because there is no one standing around to hear what is taking place. Not that they’d hear much. Very little sound of what has to be a loud argument, as the man threatens Johnathan, makes it out of the alley.

What happens next reverses the situation with such rapidity anyone not actively paying attention would have missed it. The man is against the wall, and Johnathan is stabbing him over and over with such violence some of my boxes respond. If I hadn’t had my fill of causing pain recently, the reaction this display produces would have been difficult to control.

This is what Johnathan hides from the world with his structured life. This is why he works so hard at maintaining a semblance of normality.

He, too, is a monster.

The altercation is over quickly. The man slides to the ground and becomes only one more shadow among the others there. At best, he will be confused for a garbage bag until someone looks closer or the smell of decomposition attract the attention.

Johnathan steps away, takes his jacket off, shakes it, puts it back on and exits the way he came. His jacket was reversible, and I see no blood on his black slacks.

I don’t follow him. I have the answers I sought.

Once he is out of sight, I enter the alley.

I keep my distance, and the light I shine on the body has a red filter on it to minimize attracting attention. It prevents me from seeing details, but what I am interested in is obvious enough. There are eighteen stab wounds visible. Made by a large blade. Something a gang member or drug dealer might use. Something to scare more than hit with precision.

But Johnathan used it with precision. There are no wet jets on the wall or the dumpster next to the body. That speaks of quick hits that didn’t cut any large blood vessels. His knowledge of anatomy isn’t surprising, but his ability to use that knowledge while unleashing this level of rapid violence is.

I turn my light off and walk back to my car. No one bothers me on the way.

* * * * *

I am halfway home when I realize I missed one implication of Johnathan’s action. Chiefly that I witnessed a cold-blooded murder. For all the violence, the act was calculated. Johnathan was hunting for someone to assault him so he could kill them. 

Premeditation.

There are expected behaviors when such an act is witnessed.

I release my control over the boxes to get a sense of what I should do, but they are quiet. While Johnathan lured the man there, he did not force him to mug him. While on a lesser scale, Johnathan killed the kind of men I have killed to avenge their victims.

Alex’s comment about calling the police comes back to me. The crime was different, but that is the expected reaction to any crime.

If I call the police about this murder, what can they conclude? A man was killed violently. Possibly a drug deal gone wrong if the man has such a history. If not that, some other form of violence that is committed daily in a neighborhood like that one.

An in-depth investigation may reveal Johnathan is the culprit, but would the police bother? Doubtful. Even naming him in my anonymous call would likely lead nowhere and might place the call itself under scrutiny.

His knives?

Blood is nearly impossible to clean off a knife, and such a hidden collection is bound to raise enough suspicion to have them tested. Why else hide your knives?

Mine are hanging on the wall, along with the guns. It’s for ease of access, should I need one, but it’s easier to convince other I am displaying them like that.

I can tell the police where they are and how to access them. They will want to know how I know, but that requires them finding me for further questioning. I can ensure that will not happen.

My plan made, I turn around and drive to Maryvale to place the call. There I will find  a phone without a camera pointing at it so I can perform the civic the man I pretend to be would.