Scheme Of Sin (Wayne Falls Book 3)

by John J. Hunter

  She held a hand in front of him. A silver ring with the likeness of a miniature skull shone on her index finger. "I dropped my ring inside, by accident. The bag with the body gave off an awful smell as I sifted through the trash. So I decided to look inside."

  Sergeant Whitfield studied her. "Interesting piece of jewelry you've got there. I understand why you'd hate to lose it."

  He gave her a knowing look before marching off. Tyler came to stand next to her as the officer left. "That was quite a discovery," he said.

  His gaze narrowed on the white tent. "What kind of maniac could do that to someone?"

  The same question had been nagging her for quite some time. She eyed the officers milling about the parking lot.

  Not her case.

  Yet, she could not stop herself from thinking about it: the body, cut up into pieces, cleaned immaculately to remove all traces of evidence, and, most importantly, missing a torso and head. Were they dumped somewhere else or did the killer choose to hold on to them?

  "We better get going." Tyler's voice pulled her out of the whirlwind of thoughts in her head.

  They walked back to the car. Adrian sat in the back seat looking exhausted. Naomi leaned against the hood of the car anxiously biting her nails. She yanked her fingers from her mouth as she saw Tyler and Alice approach and asked eagerly, "We're leaving, right?"

  Tyler nodded and looked sideways at the crime scene. "I don't think there is anything else we could help with."

  Relieved, she pulled open the car door to the back and climbed inside. Tyler took the wheel while Alice sat in the passenger seat. He eased the car out of the parking space and on the road.

  Alice's eyes stayed fixed on the side mirror watching the crowd of police officers and random bystanders, growing smaller and smaller by the minute, as the Corvette sped away, leaving Needles, California, far behind.

  CHAPTER 1

  White cumulus clouds skidded across an azure blue sky. The sun shone down on the beach making the water shimmer and the white sand particles glitter like gold. Naomi took in a deep breath of the salty ocean breeze.

  Dressed in a red bikini, she sat on the beach mat, soaking in the sun and listening to the sound of the crashing waves. She placed her feet outside the mat, burying them inside the warm sand. Her lips broke into a smile; she finally felt happy after a long while.

  "It's a good day for the beach." Dressed in shorts, wearing sunglasses, and baring his broad chest, Tyler stood beside her gazing over the clear blue water stretching along the coast. A traumatic childhood incident had instilled a debilitating fear of the water in him for the longest time. Constantly stepping out of his comfort zone and challenging his fear helped him overcome his aquaphobia.

  "Every day is a good day for the beach," she said, pulling her feet out of the sand and watching it tumble down between her toes. She had fair access to the ocean back in Virginia Beach as well, but her abduction while walking home alone last year had made her brain tie the place with unbearable anxiety. An irrational fear and suspicion haunted her whenever she went outside and she would find herself glancing frightfully over her shoulder thinking someone might be following her.

  "Where is everybody else?" she asked, looking up at him.

  "Adrian's in his bed; he still hasn't recovered. Alice is in her room."

  Naomi could not imagine why anyone would drive for miles to visit such spectacular beaches and stay cooped up in their hotel rooms instead.

  Tyler read her thoughts and responded, "Adrian just needs a little time." He was a good friend and Tyler knew how much it mattered to him to make a nice impression on Naomi. “As for Alice . . .” he trailed off trying to come up with a good enough reason. “Well . . . you know Alice,” he said, giving up.

  Naomi scowled and looked away. Last year Alice had fought with everything she had to rescue Naomi from her captors; it made Naomi feel indebted toward her. She admitted her skill and intuition were unmatched, but Alice’s stiff personality still rubbed her the wrong way.

  Why couldn't she relax? And why was she so obsessed with her work?

  "If I were you, I'd drag her down here and order her to have fun," she said as she lay down and closed her eyes. Deep down she knew Alice was a lost cause and tried to shrug away thoughts of her and the chopped up body they had discovered yesterday.

  Back in the hotel room that Alice shared with Naomi, Alice smacked the wooden frame of the chunky old TV set to get a signal. She groaned as the screen still showed static, her patience running thin.Why a hotel would hang on to such obsolete technology was beyond her.

  Her duffel bag lay on the floor beside her bed, untouched. Naomi, on the other hand, had unpacked, organizing her things neatly on the nightstand beside her bed and putting away her clothes in the closet.

  The room decor was fairly basic. Two single beds with plain white sheets and pillowcases were laid next to each other with a nightstand wedged in between. Brown checkered carpet covered the floor and plain brown curtains hung from the window.

  Alice grabbed the antennas, twisting them back and forth in a hopeless attempt. Why couldn’t they book a good hotel? She felt like going up to Tyler and having a word but decided against it. He might have thought they wouldn’t be spending much time indoors so he didn’t give the place they would be staying at much importance.

  With a sigh, she turned off the TV and slumped on the bed. A growing impatience to learn what happened with the dismembered body gnawed at her,making her restless. It frustrated her that she could not find anything about it on the Internet.

  There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she said.

  Tyler pushed the door open. He hesitated to step inside when he saw her lying splayed on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I hate to disturb you while you're having an existential crisis,” he said, finally walking in and closing the door behind him.

  "If I'd known you'd have such an adverse reaction to a vacation, I would never have convinced you to come."

  "What do you want?" she groaned, lifting herself into a sitting position. She was in no mood for jokes.

  "I just came to check up on you. You don't seem to be holding up too well.”

  “I’ll be just fine if you can get this piece of crap to work,” she said, pointing at the television set.

  Tyler glanced at the TV. “I’m afraid I don’t consider myself tech-savvy,” he said, looking uncertain. “There is a working television down in the lobby, if that would make you feel better.”

  Alice quickly jumped to her feet, startling him. She dashed out of the room, bounding down the stairs to the lobby with Tyler in tow. The hotel manager was a stocky man in his fifties, sporting a red beard and wearing a plaid button-up shirt and a cap even though he was indoors. He sat behind the reception desk scribbling notes in a register and looked up startled as Alice came leaping down the staircase.

  “Could you turn on the news?” Alice asked, pointing at the flat screen TV mounted on the wall before him. It played a hockey match and the manager looked a little peeved at being asked to switch channels. Nonetheless, he grabbed the remote and began flipping through channels.

  Tyler came running after her. He panted for breath beside her as she stood with her eyes glued to the TV screen.

  “There! Just stop on that one!” she said quickly as she spotted police cars on the screen.

  Alice took a step closer to the screen as the news report played out. A woman’s voice narrated the events she had witnessed yesterday in the restaurant’s parking lot while the camera panned over the area showing the white tent and the police officers hovering around the crime scene.

  "In a harrowing display of sheer brutality, dismembered body parts were found in the trash outside a fast food joint in Needles," narrated a woman's voice.

  "Wrapped inside a black garbage bag were the arms and legs of the victim. The police suspect the limbs belong to an adult male. The victim's age is placed somewhere between 30 and 35."

  A stern-faced S
ergeant Bill Whitfield filled the TV screen; a reporter held a chunky microphone before him.

  "Officer, do you have any leads on who's behind this murder?"

  He had both hands on his hips and thought over his answer for a second before replying. "Well," he said. "We're doing everything we can to preserve whatever evidence we can find and take it from there. The first step is the identification of the victim."

  He glanced at the dumpster behind him. Alice noticed the tent, the police vehicles, and officers were gone and guessed the interview had taken place that morning. "As you probably already know," he said. "It gets a little difficult to tell who the victim was if there's no head. So we're focusing on that first, finding the head and the chest."

  Alice realized he looked incredibly nervous and wondered whether it was the first case he'd dealt with of this magnitude.

  The reporter flicked away the microphone to ask her next question. "And did you find any evidence on the body that could point to the killer?"

  "Well," he shifted his weight on the other leg, "it's hard to say. We know the . . . er . . . parts were washed thoroughly before being dumped down here, wiping away crucial evidence that could have helped us find the person behind this heinous act."

  "And what about the autopsy? Perhaps that could shed some light on the suspect?"

  He shifted again, placing his arms over his chest and trying hard to give off an air of confidence. "The blood work suggests the victim was heavily sedated; high levels of a chemical called flunitrazepam, commonly known as a date rape drug, were detected in the victim's blood. The blood-alcohol concentration was above the legal limit as well which gives us reason to suspect a date rape drug might have been slipped in the victim's drink to render him unconscious."

  "Finally, do you have any advice for residents to keep themselves safe?"

  "Yeah, sure," he looked dead straight into the camera, making Alice feel like he was looking directly at her. "Be careful when you’re drinking with someone you don’t know."

  The camera cut to the newsroom and a beautiful brunette with a wide smile filled the screen. "And in other news, a llama helps bring a burglar to justice by aiding his arrest in the most unsuspected way."

  Alice turned to the hotel manager. "Thanks, thatwill be all."

  The man picked up the remote and switched the channel back to the hockey game, his face expressionless.

  Alice began striding out of the lobby. Tyler chased after her. "Hey, hey!" he cried. "Where are you going?"

  She pushed the door open and marched outside, stopping by the curb and peering down the road.

  "Alice! Alice!" he called out, grabbing her arm and swinging her around to face him. "You can't just barge in on an investigation."

  She frowned. "I can't just walk away either."

  He looked at her askance. "The case is not assigned to you. Your help won't be appreciated."

  She bit her lip as she stood thinking for a moment. Tyler noticed her eyes flash with resolve when she looked up at him. "Maybe there is a way to fix that."

  She shoved a hand in her pocket to take out her cell phone while waving a taxi with the other.

  Tyler shook his head in resignation as a yellow cab came to halt before them. Alice pulled open the door and jumped inside. Tyler held the door open as she tried pulling it closed.

  "I'm coming with you," he said, sliding into the backseat after her.

  "What made you change your mind?" she asked him with a bemused smile as the cab revved to a start.

  "I can't let you alone have all the fun," he said with a weary smile.

  "I thought I was taking you away from the fun."

  "The action is wherever you are," he said, smiling wider so that she could see the twin dimples in his cheeks.

  The cab zipped down the road, winding its way through traffic and whisking them away from the city of white sand beaches and toward the desert.

  ***

  It was late in the afternoon and Marcus Lee had retired to his study. He reclined on the leather couch with a large tome in his lap. A plush Italian rug was laid out under the gleaming mahogany coffee table before him. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a white marble fireplace and floor lamps made up the opulent decor.

  His wife, Frances, was the one responsible for the lavish furnishings. An Ivy League graduate and hailing from a well-to-do family of surgeons, Francis was an incorrigible sybarite. It took time for him to appreciate his wife’s refined, sophisticated taste. As a newlywed FBI agent working at a remote field office and barely able to make ends meet, his wife’s preference for the high life had seemed like wild extravagance.

  He smiled now thinking back over a time long past. It had taken years of hard work and perseverance to earn the position of Assistant Director CIRG. Seated in the comfortable study, he felt a deep appreciation for Frances and her exquisite taste.

  It was his day off and he had decided to spend the afternoon delving into literary pursuits. A freshly brewed cup of coffee sat on the table as he flicked through the pages of his book. His life with Frances had been a happy and peaceful one, for the most part. They had stood by each other's side and seen the best and worst of times.

  Nestled inside his sumptuously decorated Victorian house, Marcus realized with growing warmth inside his chest that life was good. Their countless memories together were preserved in the photographs lining the walls and adorning the mantel above the fireplace. But whenever he stopped to look at these pictures, he could not ignore an undercurrent of longing hidden beneath the joy.

  Their beaming faces could not conceal the gaping void in their lives — a place they had desperately wanted to fill. Marcus felt a flutter of sadness as his mind traveled back in time once more as he revisited painful memories of his wife’s multiple miscarriages. Each loss marked a wound that would cut open and bleed anew whenever they saw children playing merrily at the park or attended a friend’s baby shower.

  With a sigh, he shook his head to stop his mind from wandering and peered down at the book, trying his best to concentrate. It had barely been a minute when his phone began to ring, pulling him away from the text once more. He looked disapprovingly at the smart phone lying on the table. He should have handed it to his assistant, George, before coming in here.

  Marcus decided he was too snug to move and check the device. He returned to the book, ignoring the call. The shrill cry of the phone reverberated through the room for what felt like an eternity before going silent.

  Savoring the silence that enveloped him, he flipped a page. His eyes moved slowly from side to side as they trailed the letters in the book. He almost jumped out of his seat when the ringer went off again, its pulsating cry filling the room once more.

  “For heaven’s sake, can’t they let me enjoy my day off!” he grumbled, stowing away the book and lumbering toward the table.

  His eyebrows puckered when he saw the name flashing on the screen. Feeling a wave of worry and concern sweep over him, he hurried to accept the call and held the phone close to his ear.

  “Is everything alright, Alice?”

  “Everything’s fine,” she replied. Marcus could sense the excitement in her voice. “Listen, a murder case has sprung up in California that has the local authorities baffled. I think the FBI should step in and help. I’m in California right now and I’d like to volunteer to be on the case to help out the local police force.” She knew she was being too forward, but her eagerness to get herself in on the investigation had turned into an obsession and she couldn’t help it.

  Marcus raised a hand to massage his forehead while holding the phone with the other. Alice had this strange ability to make his head hurt with her unusual methods and the odd scenarios she would land herself in. “I don’t follow. What murder case are you talking about?”

  She briefed the Assistant Director about the dismembered body parts discovered by her in the dumpster.

  Marcus leaned back over the couch and s
ighed, “I see. I’m sorry, Alice, but there’s not much that we can do.”

  “A person was ruthlessly sawed into pieces and tossed in the trash,” she said, her voice ringing with disbelief. “And you are saying that we should do nothing about it?”

  “Alice,” he said, compassionately. “The local authorities are already doing something about it even if it seems to you that they don’t have a clue. Murder is a crime in every state but it is not a federal crime unless the victim was a federal officer or the killing threatened national security.”

  Alice was silent for a moment. “So what you’re saying is that we should wait until he kills a few more people?”

  “I’m saying that you shouldn’t meddle in other people’s jobs,” he said gruffly.

  “Even if they’re awful at it?” she retorted.

  He bristled at her blunt assessment. “You are under no jurisdiction to take action against anyone involved in this case and you should abstain from exerting your influence as an FBI agent over the investigation,” he snapped.

  Alice responded with a sullen silence.

  “Is that clear?” he asked, his voice edged with steel.

  “Yes. It’s clear,” she said and hung up.

  He placed the phone on the couch beside him and exhaled loudly. The conversation drained him of the last bits of energy. Alice was like a willful child. Reasoning with her always left him exhausted.

  The door opened and he could hear the sound of soft steps approach him.

  "Is everything alright Marcus?" Even in her late 60s, Frances radiated elegance and poise.

  He looked up and smiled at her. The smile slid from his face as he remembered how at one point he had become enamored by another agent despite being married to the best woman on the planet.

  "You look troubled," she asked, sitting down next to him and looking concerned.

  "I'm fine," he replied, shrugging away thoughts of his past errors. "I just received a call from Alice." He glanced sideways at her to check her expression.