The Blood

by Nancy Jackson

  Which was worse? She breathed deep and knew this was better. She also believed that this was a process and that it would get better each day. It had to get better, right?

  The front door chime rang and pulled Senna from her thoughts. The rest of the day was filled with work, library browsers, and the after school reading group. By closing time, Senna felt exhausted. She turned the key in the lock and welcomed the warm sunshine on her body.

  Walking home, Senna was once again lost in her thoughts. So when two young boys on skateboards nearly ran her over on the sidewalk, it totally caught her off guard. Stumbling, she regained her balance. Then she felt anger rush up through her that was difficult to push down.

  She remained standing against the lamppost that had stopped her tumble. It was hot from its day in the sun and burned against her skin.

  Senna noticed for the first time she was grinding her teeth and then tears welled up in her eyes causing her view to be distorted. She would have never felt such anger at two kids like this before. I am not strong enough to battle this struggle; she thought to herself.

  Instead of noticing the beautiful day around her, as she continued home, she dwelled on the intense emotions which she had no idea how to control.

  ~~~

  After a hard workday like the day she had just had, Carrie liked to unwind. The curiosity of the Darkside in Kachina had piqued her interest long before the day they did the interview with Ike. She liked the quiet, laid-back atmosphere, and more specifically, the don’t ask, don’t tell philosophy. She had her share of skeletons that she would prefer stayed locked away. The Darkside seemed the perfect place to relax, knowing those skeletons were safe.

  Since that interview with Ike, Carrie had come on her own two more times, but not for work. She liked to drink, and she liked to flirt, and so she did at the Darkside without worry that a colleague would happen in.

  Walking in at eight o’clock that night, she noticed that there were only about six people in the bar. The jukebox was playing an old 70s rock tune, and the room was only partially smoke-filled. She walked in and pulled out a barstool. Ike walked over and asked what she wanted to drink by only raising an eyebrow.

  “Whiskey,” Carrie said. There was no sense in beating around the bush if a person was going to drink, get drunk really. No need to play around right? Just do it. Isn’t that what Nike always said, just do it?

  In the first ten minute’s Carrie had downed two whiskeys and was working on her third. She could feel the stress of the day was well on its way out of Dodge, replacing it was a slow fade into oblivion.

  Movement to her right put Carrie on semi-alert. The cop in her could never completely rest. She didn’t look, but shifted her eyes slightly to see who had walked up. It was a biker that Carrie had seen before but had never spoken to.

  To Ike he said, “The usual.” To Carrie, “Hey there. How’re you t’night?” His ruddy face had seen too many days in the sun and had given his face a permanent deep red color. Craggy lines ran through his cheeks from his eyes to his mouth. His eyes were a faded blue and fine red lines disturbed the whites.

  The do-rag he wore on his head, was black with a pattern of white skulls. His black leather vest was void of gang patches. It made Carrie wonder if he was a wanna-be or the real thing.

  Carrie didn’t respond immediately, but took her time wondering what he was about and why he had sat next to her when there were a dozen other stools he could have chosen. The obvious reason was that he wanted to get to know her. So her dilemma was what did she want to do about it? All of these thoughts sprinted through her inebriated mind before forming the response that would bring the outcome she wanted.

  “Just gettin’ a drink,” she replied without turning to look at the biker.

  “You want to play a game of pool?” For all the elements of age that defined his face, his smile was genuine and nice, thought Carrie.

  After a few drawn out seconds, Carrie slowly sat her drink on the bar, then turned her stool to look full face at him. She looked him up and down without hiding the fact that she was. “You any good?” she asked.

  He snorted and grinned, turning his head away, embarrassed. “Yeah, good enough,” he said as he turned to look back at her, square in the eyes.

  “Okay, let’s play.” Her double meaning hung in the air as she slid from the stool and worked to walk a steady line to the table. She picked up a cue and chalked it up, then used the stick to lean on. She needed it.

  “Name’s Gene,” said the biker.

  “Good to know,” Carrie replied. She was not in a hurry to get familiar and if at all possible, she avoided giving her name.

  Gene racked the balls and broke. He was stripes and continued a couple of shots until his run ran out. He then stepped back to make room for her.

  Surveying the table, she casually walked around until she spotted the best move. She leaned over the table, always seductively whether she intended to or not, and lined up her shot. Her tight pants stretched over her fit frame and her low top slipped down even farther as she stretched to make the shot.

  She missed. The booze would have to wear off a bit for her to be steadier. She didn’t care. She’d rather have the booze than win at pool.

  As Gene ran a few more shots, Carrie began to see he was probably only a few years older than she was. He was attractive enough, stocky, but not too heavy. He would do.

  It was her turn again, and she lined up her shot, pocketed that one and moved to find another. She knew Gene was watching every move she made and not on the pool felt. She liked the control over men that she had with her firm body and seductive moves.

  Moving to take his next turn, rather than walk the short way around the table, Gene purposely crossed behind Carrie brushing up against her, placing his free hand on her waist.

  This dance continued for the next several hours as they played and drank. Carrie kept her drinks spaced to reach that equilibrium where she did not lose complete control, but was still lost in the haze. When it was time, a look passed between them, they racked the balls and cues and left.

  Carrie was not sure where they were going, but she didn’t really care. It was another evening she would not have to be alone.

  Chapter Ten

  Despite drinking and staying up late the night before, Carrie was at work early the next morning. The slight headache did not slow her down from reviewing each of the potential missing persons in order to add additional details to their profile. Dental records as well as medical records had begun to arrive in her in-box. She worked her way through to build solid profiles on each one.

  The files were growing thicker. Uniforms in the OKC police department had canvassed the area around where the bodies had been found. A few possible leads had emerged that needed to be followed up, but it was slow going for the officers. Everyone wanted to glean information for gossip rather than focus on helping the officers.

  The woods where the bodies were found was approximately a quarter section, one hundred-sixty acres, give or take. Across the road to the north was a housing addition behind a nice, tidy brick wall. To the east the same, with only more woods to the south and west.

  It was not uncommon to have a housing addition, then acres of dense woods or farmland right next to it. This was only a partially developed area. Nice housing additions sprang up randomly in what had once been farmland or woods. There were still many undeveloped areas separating most.

  The area around where the bodies had been found was a nice suburb where families came to shelter their children from cruel people and events. Carrie was sure they were all mortified that bodies had been found so close to them. She was also sure that Realtors’ phones were ringing this morning and for sale signs were quickly appearing within a mile radius of the dumpsite.

  Reading through the reports, she noticed that one officer reported that someone had heard, then seen, what appeared to be a small utility vehicle in the woods. This type of thing was often used on ranches to haul things
short distances or to traverse rough terrain.

  Carrie’s father had used one on their farm to haul salt blocks out to the cow pasture. They were four-wheelers, but not like the traditional recreational ones. These often had actual seating and a bed to haul things in. Attachments were also available to accomplish tasks such as digging, moving, and mowing.

  Carrie’s mind began to race as she envisioned what could have taken place. Her rise in blood pressure pushed that slight headache aside and her mind began firing on all cylinders.

  If this was true, then that would explain how someone could get the bodies into the woods. If the woods had been less dense on the side where they had dozed, just removing a few of the smaller trees would have allowed this type of vehicle to get in there and back out again. She knew those ATVs could navigate over very rough terrain.

  There were two witnesses stating they had seen this vehicle, but had no recollection of the person driving it. They had witnessed from over a half mile away on a moonlit night. They did however, remember the vehicle appeared to be camouflage, most likely green in color.

  She sat to attention as her fingers began flying across her keyboard in order to research four wheeled ATVs that came camouflaged. She had been lost in the world of ATVs for about twenty minutes when Randy came through the door to the room. By the look on his face, it had been another hard night. Carrie thought it best to give him some space until he settled in.

  Randy flopped into his chair and turned on his computer, still not speaking to Carrie. The fronts of their desks faced each other with only a short cubicle wall between them so they sat face to face, eye to eye.

  Her gaze flittered from her computer screen, which sat at an angle on her desk, to Randy and back again. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she commented, “Rough night, again?”

  He looked straight at her over the top of the divider. “I am sick and tired of getting the third degree every single morning when I walk through that door.”

  “Woah! Just askin’,” replied Carrie. Looking back to the research on her computer screen, she was boiling inside. How dare he talk to her that way? She had only been concerned about him, she thought to herself.

  The inability to focus while attempting to push down her anger at Randy, almost caused her to miss the ATV she realized might be the one that had been seen at the body dump.

  Excited, she printed out pictures and details of the ATV so she could pin it to the whiteboard in the war room. “What’s that?” asked Randy.

  “If you hadn’t been such a crap this morning, I would have told you,” said Carrie.

  “OKC officers found two witnesses to an ATV coming and going in the middle of the night around the body dump. The only thing they could say was that they thought it was camouflaged. This is the only one I have found that could be it. I am going to post it on the whiteboard, then we need to get verification from the witnesses if this might be the one they saw.”

  When he didn’t comment, she continued, “I sent the pic to Rick and Mike. They are going to go re-interview those two witnesses and ask about the pic. Maybe they can get more info from them.”

  Randy still hadn’t commented. He had his head down at his phone reading something on the screen. He had been in a bad mood almost every single morning for a week. When anyone asked about what was wrong, he would bite their head off. She wasn’t even sure he had heard a word she’d said.

  Carrie went back to her computer screen and looked through her in-box, finding another email from the forensics department. They had categorized and labeled all the trace bits of fiber, lint, and other debris found at both crime scenes. Reading through the list Carrie found nothing unusual or out of the ordinary, except for one thing.

  At the second scene they had found a tiny bit of blue vinyl. The report read, Poly tarp fragment. Poly is short for polyethylene. Polyethylene is a synthetic polymer: a plastic polymer of ethylene. Most poly material is used for the manufacture of containers, packaging, and electrical insulation or in this case poly tarps. Polyethylene tarps a.k.a. Poly tarps are made with polyethylene, nylon tarp threading inside the material with a rope reinforcement around the perimeter of the poly tarp material... Carrie glazed over at the next bit which was filled with the chemical components of a poly tarp.

  A blue, poly tarp. That made sense to her. If the killer had placed the victim on the tarp to cut his throat that would catch the blood. Then they could use the tarp to roll the body down the hill by pulling the tarp up and towards them, thus rolling the body forward.

  Carrie continued to read. Low-density polyethylene (LDPE) is the most widely used of all plastics, because it is inexpensive, flexible, extremely tough, and chemical-resistant. LDPE is molded into bottles, garment bags, frozen food packages, and plastic toys or in this case polyethylene tarps a.k.a poly tarps.

  Extremely tough and chemical-resistant. Carrie rolled this around in her head and she began to visualize what the killer might have thought or seen. It was tough enough that a heavy body would not tear it and it could be cleaned with strong chemicals that would not harm it.

  The killer could have placed the victim unconscious, on the tarp. Then cut his throat, containing the blood on the tarp, at which time they could have rolled the body up and loaded it onto the ATV using its wench system, then drive to the dump sites. Once there, they would unfurl the tarp, depositing the body on the ground.

  Sounds good in theory, but a body is heavy, thought Carrie. Then she thought about the first body in Kachina. It had been on the ground and the blood had pooled beside it. No tarp had been used.

  “Randy I really need to run some things by you,” said Carrie. She didn’t care if she sounded short or irritated with his lack of communication and interest. “If you can’t have your head in the game when you come to work, maybe you need to take some time off.”

  “At least I don’t come to work with a hangover several times a week,” Randy’s eyes bore into Carrie. She stood with her mouth half-hanging open, speechless.

  SAC Bracket’s voice boomed through the room, “Jeffries and Border. In my office now!”

  Both Randy and Carrie walked towards the SAC’s office like two children summoned to the principal’s office.

  “Sit down!” Bracket’s voice roared. When Randy and Carrie had each taken a seat, he continued, “What on earth is up with you two? Fightin’ like you’re married or something. Get over it!” His voice bellowed even louder.

  Carrie flinched from the vocal onslaught. She was still reeling from Randy’s comment about being hung over. She sat with her legs crossed and her elbow on her her chair in such a way that her back was half turned to where Randy sat.

  “Spill it, now.” SAC Bracket stood behind his desk with his hands on his hips. His face was red and his eyes were like laser targets at the two of them. Carrie fully intended to let Randy begin the conversation. “Well?” he insisted.

  Carrie glanced sideways at Randy who just sat stone-faced. His jaw was clenching and releasing, but he was silent. Finally Bracket took a breath and sat down attempting to provide a calmer atmosphere to the room. He hoped it would diffuse the tension and encourage them to talk.

  “I don’t know what is going on with the two of you. For the last week, well almost since you started this murder investigation, you have both been increasingly piqued toward each other. I want to know what it is about, and now.”

  Finally Randy looked down for a second before looking back at Bracket. “Sandy wants a divorce.”

  Carrie’s head jerked around to look at Randy. She’d had no idea. He’d never said a word. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your partner.”

  “Exactly. You are my partner, not my therapist,” Randy spat at her.

  His words stung and Carrie was hurt to the core, so she sat back in her chair and just looked at the edge of Bracket’s desk in silence.

  “Hey, Jeffries, I am so sorry to hear that,” Bracket’s voice was much softer now. He knew what divorce was like, he’d be
en through two. “Do you need some time off?”

  “No,” Randy replied. “Not right now anyway.” Randy squirmed in his chair. The discussion made him very uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was a divorce.

  Bracket looked over at Carrie. “What about you?”

  Carrie looked up in surprise. “What do you mean, what about me?”

  “I mean, what has been up your craw lately?” Bracket asked.

  Carrie’s mind raced, attempting to search for clues to what he was specifically referring. Neither he nor Randy were her therapists and Carrie wasn’t about to start divulging details of her private life to either of them.

  “Okay, okay. I can see that this isn’t going anywhere productive so I’ll just say that the two of you had better get your heads straight and work this case like your own lives depended on it. You got that?”

  Both Randy and Carrie nodded their heads and mumbled in agreement. As they were leaving SAC Bracket’s office, Carrie looked at Randy and said, “I really am sorry.”

  Randy nodded in an attempt to say thank you. Then Carrie continued, “I really do need to go over some case stuff with you. I think we finally have some new clues to go on, and I need your opinion about some things,” the hint of excitement in Carrie’s voice made Randy smile.

  He blew out the personal smoke from his mind so he could focus on the case. As they walked to the war room, Carrie filled him in on all she had learned so far that morning.

  Just before they entered the war room that booming voice came rumbling back through the room, “That’s more like it!”

  ~~~

  Andrea was feeling completely well and was back at work the next day, chipper and excited for whatever the day held.

  “You’re in a good mood today,” noted Senna. “I thought since you were sick yesterday you would still be feeling bad.”

  “I think it was just a quick stomach bug. I woke up feeling great this morning,” replied Andrea. “How was it here at the library yesterday?”