by S. B. Cody
Don’t slap him. Don’t slap him, Kara thought to herself. “It made his word suspect. Based on that, I didn’t feel we could conclusively exclude Mr. Llewellyn.”
“How did this case ultimately conclude?” McClellan asked.
“A man came in and confessed to the murder. He broke into the house to find drug money. Mrs. Llewellyn surprised him. In a panic he beat her to death. Gathered what he could and took off. When he came down off his high, he realized what he’d done and felt the need to turn himself in. In confessing, he had knowledge of a lamp having been used to fracture her skull. This wasn’t public information, so the confession was determined to be legitimate.”
“Do you have any questions?” McClellan asked, turning towards Edwards.
“Absolutely,” he replied with a big smile. “Detective Smalls, is it true that you brought Mr. Llewellyn in for questioning?”
“Yes,” Kara replied, trying to steady her shaking voice. She knew this was coming. “We were at a standstill on the case. I thought that if given time to properly interrogate, I could potentially get him to confess.”
“And how long did you hold him?” Edwards continued.
“Twenty-four hours. As long as we’re able to hold someone without charging them with a crime.”
“And what information did you glean during this twenty-four hours?”
“Mr. Llewellyn admitted to his gambling habit and to having fought with his wife.”
“And did he maintain his alibi?”
“Yes he did.”
“And after you released him, were you given any instructions as it pertained to this case?”
Kara glanced over at Barron. His finger scratched into the table, wearing away at the finish, clearly fuming at what was to come. “Captain Barron asked that I pursue other leads and suspects other than Mr. Llewellyn at that time.” Kara now looked down at the table, not able to take Barron’s harsh judgmental glare.
“And did you?” Edwards asked.
“For a time.”
“Meaning?”
“I spent another week exploring any other possible leads, but nothing came of it. At that point, I ordered a tail to be put on Mr. Llewellyn,” Kara said. She had tried moving away from Llewellyn, but the whole time her instincts clawed away at her, demanding that she do more. So she had, and now she was here.
“And how long did this tail last?”
“A week.”
“And what did you hope to gain from this?”
“We wanted to see if he would do something to give himself away.”
“And did he?”
“Obviously not,” Kara spat back. One of her union lawyers nudged her thigh, indicating that she had crossed a line.
“So, despite the complete lack of any hard evidence; despite the instructions of your superior, you insisted on harassing my client?”
Kara said nothing, not wanting to give the bastard the dignity of a response to such a condescending question.
Edwards just nodded, content with what he had gotten out of her. “Thank you. That’s all I have,” he said.
“Thank you for your time, Detective Smalls. We’ll keep you apprised of the investigation.”
Kara didn’t say anything, she simply turned and walked towards the door. On the way out, she gave Edwards a wide berth, but it wasn’t far enough to keep her from smelling the oil wafting up from his hair. Outside of the conference room a few people walked back and forth on some random errand. Kara went back to her desk and plopped into the chair. On top of it was a file box with a note on top.
Kara, Here’s the case files that you wanted. Make sure I get them back. Cynthia
Cynthia worked in the file room in the department. Kara had wanted to see some of her old case files. She needed to look them over. Make sure that she had been right all along. She had been so sure that Mr. Llewellyn had killed his wife. She could feel it. But she had been wrong. And she couldn’t help but wonder if that had been the case before. What if someone was wasting away in jail all because she’d become too focused on what her instincts told her? She needed to be sure.
Being a homicide detective had been what she had worked for her whole career. Hell, her whole life. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t imagined herself solving murders.
When she was a kid she would consume every mystery book that she could get her hands on. Started simply with Nancy Drew, but by the time she was in 7th grade she plowed through all of Agatha Christie’s books. Drove her mom nuts with it because for Kara, she couldn’t just read it. She needed to solve it. While she read, she filled up notebooks with notes and clues that she left scattered throughout the house. Each time she picked up a book she was in competition with herself to see how early on she could solve it. Did the same thing with movies too. Her friends stopped watching them with her because about halfway through, she’d have figured it out and would yell out the answer.
By her third year of high school she had gotten bored with the mystery novels, often finding them too easy; so she moved on to true crime. With this it stopped being about solving the mystery. Now she’d become fascinated with the actual process of solving. She wanted to know how people actually figured this stuff out in the real world. Even with the most intricately plotted novel, there were still only so many people who could be the culprit. With real crimes, there were so many more possibilities. And the idea that someone could get to the bottom of it with so few details… She never really decided to become a cop so much as it just happened. And she wasn’t too humble to admit that she was good at it. Had the highest clear rate of the department. Had a few commendations sitting on her desk. When it became time to look at a crime scene, she could read it like no one else. Looking at it she had a feeling of what the motive had been. There were certain telltale signs. Somebody in the middle of the street with a gunshot wound to the stomach? A robbery gone wrong. Single shot to the head, execution style? Victim had been targeted. Someone beaten to death in their home? Domestic dispute gone wrong. At least that’s what it usually was.
Kara lifted the lid to the box of files when a shadow stepped over her. “How we doing, Smalls?” the shadow asked.
Kara looked up to see Brody Morgan, her partner, looking down at her. She felt like a small girl with Brody’s hulking frame lurking over her. Standing, he’d be a whole head taller than her. His military style haircut and rigid goatee only added to the dominance he exuded. “Hey, Brody,” she whispered.
“How was the interrogation?” He laughed as he pulled a chair over. Kara and Brody had been partnered together for the last two years, but during the Llewellyn case the department had been spread thin, so he got put on a different case. So now it was just her head on the chopping block.
“Like getting a root canal,” Kara responded as she placed the lid back on the box.
“What’s that?” he asked, gesturing towards it.
“My old case files.”
“What the hell do you need those for?”
“I need to make sure that I was right.”
“Oh my God. You’re killin’ me, Smalls!” he yelled.
Kara just shook her head at that. This was something he said to her all the time. From some movie from the nineties he said. She didn’t know it.
“You’re gonna do this to yourself all because some douche is pissy that he was inconvenienced? We both know that this thing isn’t going to go anywhere. Shit happens all the time. Besides, I was with you on those cases, and I most certainly didn’t screw anything up.”
“It’s not about that. It’s about being able to trust myself.”
“Kara,” he muttered while hanging his head. She perked up at that. He never used her first name. “You can’t do this to yourself,” he continued.
“If this thing actually goes to trial, you know they’re going to be looking into these anyway. I might as well do it myself.”
“It’s a waste of time. You were right on all of those. You usually are. I’ll tell them that m
yself.”
“I don’t know if they’ll care.”
“Ouch,” he said, feigning offense.
“That’s not what I meant. Shut up.”
“Detective Smalls,” a voice yelled from across the room. Both Kara and Brody looked up to see Captain Barron at the door of the conference room. “Please come back in here.”
“Go with God my child,” Brody said as he made the sign of the cross in the air towards her. Kara didn’t say anything. She just stood and marched back towards the captain, feeling a bit like she was walking the green mile. Back inside, she saw that Edwards had left. Thank God for small miracles. She took her seat back in between the two union lawyers.
“Well, Detective Smalls,” Captain Barron said, retaking his seat. “We have talked it over and we feel that it is in yours and the department’s best interest if you were placed on leave until the conclusion of this lawsuit.” Kara didn’t say anything. She just stared straight ahead, not really looking at anything. Just taking in each word as he threw them at her. Kara knew that each one had to be a dagger in him, hating to have to be civil around her. But a good face needed to be put on for the union. God knows what he would have done if they hadn’t been there to reign him in.
“It is a paid leave,” Barron said. “And if all is sorted out, you’ll be fully reinstated. I’m sorry to have to tell you this. Do you have any questions?”
“I understand,” Kara forced out. It wasn’t just that she didn’t trust herself anymore. Apparently no one else did either.
7
Without a case to solve, Kara simply puttered around the house, trying to find something to do to fill her time, but she couldn’t even remember the last time she had spent the entire day at home.
She eventually found herself on the couch, eyes glazed over as she flipped through the channels on TV, unaware of what was even there. That is until she happened to stop at the news. She saw an overhead shot of a school with a sea of people surrounding it. Kara sat forward on her couch, for once engrossed in what she saw.
“Details are just beginning to pour in,” an off-camera voice said in a rushed tone. “It appears as if a gunman has laid siege to Stanford West High School. At this time we don’t know how many casualties there are, but police have secured the building and victims are being attended to. As you can see there is a large crowd gathered around the front of the school. Students and teachers are being ushered out of the building now where they are being examined for any injuries.” Kara looked on, her eyes not even blinking, taking in every detail, waiting for this all to be a part of one of those prank shows. “At this time,” the voice continued, “we have no information about who may have been the shooter.”
The overhead shot switched to a live feed from the studio and a blond goddess of a news anchor. “Thank you, Louis, for that report. Please stay tuned to Channel 5 News for more updates as they become available.” Kara found herself taking a deep dive, wondering what could have happened. Did some teacher or student snap? There was that protest today… Could that have had anything to do with it?
Kara grabbed her phone and sent a text to Brody:
Are you on this?
And then she was left to await a reply. Just staring at the phone waiting for those three little dots indicating that a response was forthcoming. She felt like a teenage girl waiting to hear back from her boyfriend.
That reply never came. Instead, a phone call did. The name “Captain Barron” popped up on the caller ID. Kara did a double take, assuming that she had misread it the first time, but finally she answered it. “Hello?”
“Smalls. I assume you’ve seen,” Barron said on the other end.
“Yeah. What the hell is going on?”
“We’re still trying to figure that out.”
“What happened?”
“It’s complicated.”
There was a pause before she spoke again. “What do you need?”
A heavy sigh followed by a few seconds of silence preceded, “We want you on the case.” Sounded like he was only saying this because someone had him at gunpoint.
“You what? Why the hell would you need me on this?”
“That’s the complicated part.”
“Well… Don’t keep me in suspense…”
“We don’t know who the shooter was.”
“YOU WHAT?!”
“Shooter was masked. And they escaped before the first responders got there.”
“How the hell is that possible?” Kara ran her hand through her hair, floored by what she had just heard.
“Force was occupied with the protest. Delayed our response time.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah. So you can see what we’re dealing with.”
“Uh-huh. Still have a question though. Why me? Last I checked, I had been suspended.”
“Placed on leave.”
“Semantics.”
“This thing is a big deal. Town is already on the brink with the Spaulding shooting. Now we have a mass murderer on the loose.”
“Yeah, and I’m not the only detective on the force. Get to the point.”
Barron let out a sigh. “You have the best clear rate on the force, okay? And there was that thing in KC.” Before Kara had moved to Stanford, she’d been on the force in Kansas City. In her second year as a detective, she’d been put on the case of a gunman who ran through a shopping center, taking out ten people. People assumed it was a disgruntled employee, but when Kara looked at the crime scene she noticed something. The third person shot had been riddled with bullets, to the point that he was unrecognizable. Looking at him, Kara knew that something was off with this. Looking into the victim, she discovered that he’d been sleeping with his neighbor’s wife. The whole thing had been planned just to kill that one guy. The other nine victims had just been to distract from that. When she went to talk to the husband, they discovered that he’d shot himself with the same gun used in the shooting. Kara ended up with a department commendation for solving the case.
“The chief going to okay this?” Kara asked.
“It was his idea.”
“Why don’t you just let the FBI take this? I assume they’re reaching out.”
“Brass would prefer to keep them on the sidelines right now. Just have them around for support.”
“Why? They handle this stuff.”
“Since the Spaulding shooting, the town is already against us. Chief wants us to regain their trust. And with the protests that are going on… he’s worried about the optics. Thinks having the FBI all over the place will make it seem like we’re under martial law or something.”
“Jesus. This is a mess.”
“Yeah. So what’s it going to be? Clock is ticking.”
“Fine.”
“Good. Get down to the school ASAP and start coordinating.” And with that the line went dead. Kara sat back, feeling the surrealism of the moment. She wanted to be working, but she didn’t want it to happen like this.
8
Kara pushed her way through the crowd, coming up to the sawhorse barriers. A quick flash of her badge gave her entry. Every inch of the parking lot teemed with people. Parents being reunited with their kids. A few people seemingly in the middle of a panic attack. Uniforms going from one person to another to collect whatever small portion of the story they had to tell. She climbed the steps to the front of the school where a small group of cops huddled together, Brody at the center of it. As soon as he saw her, his face lit up and he worked his way through the crowd.
“Thank Christ, you’re here,” he said, walking up to her. “This whole thing is a fucking shit-show.”
“Where are we at?” Kara asked.
“Trying to identify all the victims right now.”
“What’s the number?”
“We’ve got twenty-eight dead.”
“Twenty-eight? Are you shitting me?”
“I wish I was.”
“I see the interviews going on out there. Finding out an
ything?”
“Nothing useful. Principal is helping us pull up the security footage.”
“Good. Let’s take a look.” Brody and Kara walked inside, heading past the body of Zach Levinson which still took up space behind the desk, a spray of blood on the wall behind him. Heading into the office, they passed by Sergeant Blake as pictures were snapped of him dead on the floor. They headed back into a small office off to the side. Inside was an older man with a head of silver hair sinking into his desk chair, his head buried in his hands. Behind him were five different monitors, two stacked upon the other three.
“Principal Devin,” Brody said in a soft voice. “This is Detective Smalls. She’ll be leading this investigation with me.” Devin dragged his head up and forced a small smile. A spot of red ringed around his eyes. “We’re ready to look at the security footage,” Brody continued.
“Of course,” Devin muttered as he stood and turned on the monitors behind him. Kara and Brody both gathered around, Brody producing a pen and notepad. A few clicks brought up the security footage, black-and-white images of various parts of the school popped into view, the time huddled in the corner. They all looked at the one on the bottom left, seeing Michael Myers come through the door and taking out Levinson.
“Timestamp says 8:30,” Kara said, not looking away. “When is that during the day?”
“Second period,” Devin replied.
“When in second period?”
“It had just begun.”
“So halls were clear?”
“Yes.” Everyone’s eyes shifted over to the bottom right where Myers now charged down the hall. Devin punched a couple buttons and it now switched to a view from the library where Myers began to lay waste. Kara and Brody gave each other a small nod, communicating exactly what they were thinking.
“There’s a sign-in sheet for the library?” Kara asked.
“Yes. Of course.”
The images appeared all around the different monitors; Kara’s eyes darting from one to the other. Brody scribbled furiously, recording the times and the path Myers took. When they came to Myers’s first classroom invasion, Kara called out the room number to Brody who jotted it down.