Blood and Justice

by Rayven T. Hill

  Finally, they were settled at the table, their food in front of them. Hank’s plate was piled high, with Amelia’s choices being much more modest.

  Hank finished a couple of big bites and then looked up. “Amelia, I guess you’ve heard about the last two murders,” he asked.

  She looked up and nodded.

  “I just want to assure you we are not at a dead end, like the media suggests. There are a few facts we didn’t release to the public.”

  Amelia set her fork down and gave him her full attention.

  Hank continued, “For example, we have reason to believe all three murders are linked. And we believe we have found a common thread.”

  She leaned forward.

  “Individually, there’s not too much to go on, but collectively there’s enough evidence to give us a good idea of who we’re looking for.”

  “And Jenny?”

  “Considering the character of the killer, we believe she doesn’t fit his target model,” he said, and then took a big bite of linguini.

  Amelia cocked her head. “His target model?”

  Hank hesitated. “We believe his targets are criminals, specifically thieves.”

  “Like a vigilante?”

  Hank nodded. “Sort of.”

  Amelia thought about that a moment. “This Chad... Jenny was seeing... was he a thief?”

  “He had a sealed juvenile record. A few years ago, he had been involved in a break and enter. We aren’t sure how the killer would know that, however, and finding out who knew that information might lead us to finding a suspect.”

  Amelia picked up her fork and toyed with her food before speaking. “So, you don’t have a suspect yet?”

  Hank hesitated, and then said, “No, not yet. But I believe we are getting close. We know what weapons were used, and it’s just a matter of time before we make an arrest.”

  Amelia smiled weakly. “I know it’s in good hands. It’s hard, but I am trying to be positive and not panic.”

  “You are being strong, but I know what you must be going through on the inside.” He paused. “Trust me, I know.”

  She nodded, and they ate in silence for a while.

  Finally, the bill came, and Hank slipped his Visa card from his wallet and handed it to the waiter, who processed it and handed the card back to Hank. The waiter left with a smile and a ‘Thank You’.

  On the way back to Amelia’s house, Hank glanced at her, and said, “Don’t let the news stories you hear get you down. Everything will turn out ok.”

  She looked at him and smiled.

  When they reached her house, he wheeled into the driveway. He climbed out, went around, and opened her door for her. Her offered his hand and she stepped out. They walked quietly up the front steps and to the door.

  As she found the key in her purse, she asked, “Would you like to come in for a coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  He followed her in and she dropped her purse and key on the lobby table.

  “Lilia’s off today,” she said, “so come on into the kitchen and I’ll make a pot.”

  They went into the oversized kitchen. He took a seat at an elegant, oblong table, of beautifully polished oak, surrounded by luxuriously padded chairs, upholstered in a creamy fabric. A bouquet of fresh cut flowers was in the middle of the table. Jake thought they put his feeble little bouquet to shame.

  He propped his elbows on the table and watched her as she prepared the coffee.

  She reached into the cupboard near the sink, produced a pair of mugs, and set them down on a small serving tray. She poured a small pitcher of cream, and then retrieved a bowl of sugar from the counter, set them on the tray, and brought it to the table.

  She’s beautiful, Hank thought as he watched, but maybe a little out of my league.

  While she waited for the coffee, she went to the lobby and brought back the flowers Hank had brought. She removed the dazzling centerpiece of flowers from the table, and replaced it with his. They didn’t look nearly as good as her actions made him feel.

  When the coffee was done, she brought it to the table and filled the two mugs, set the pot down on a pad and sat across from him.

  Hank brought the coffee to his nose. “Smells great,” he said, as he dumped in two spoonfuls of sugar and lots of cream.

  She prepared her coffee and sat stirring it thoughtfully. Finally she said, “Jenny as I used to sit here a lot. Just drinking coffee, chatting and laughing.”

  “And you will again soon,” Hank said.

  Amelia sighed wistfully, and gave Hank a weak smile. “Yes,” she said, “I’m sure we will.”

  Chapter 32

  Sunday, August 14th, 12:30 PM

  JEREMY HAD BEEN BUSY, and his task was almost completed. In the shed near the barn, he dug around in an old wooden box underneath Father’s tool bench, searching.

  “Ah, here it is!”

  It was a metal ring, about four inches in diameter. Like a large and sturdy eyelet that would hold a hook, it circled around and closed the gap, and then bent down at the end with a long screw. Father had used them, screwed tightly into a post, to hold a bull firmly, while he put a ring in its nose.

  He held it up and peered at it by the meager light shining through the dusty window.

  “That should do just nicely. Yes, that will do nicely,” he said, with satisfaction.

  He dropped it into a cardboard box on the floor.

  Hanging on the wall was a chain. Not as strong as the one holding Jenny, but it will do. He tightened the chain into a sturdy vice on the bench, and using a hacksaw he cut off a length about fifteen inches long. That should be about right. Fifteen inches. Yes, that’s good.

  He found a tape measure and measured the remainder of the chain, seemed satisfied, and dropped both pieces into the box.

  Digging in a drawer on the bench, he retrieved a pair of padlocks. The keys were in them. He tested them. They worked perfect. Yes, that’s perfect.

  The padlocks went into the box.

  He reached up onto the wall behind the workbench and brought down a crowbar. He tested the weight in his hands. He smiled as he dropped it into the box on top of his other needs.

  He stood there and studied the contents of the cardboard box on the floor.

  “I think that’s all I need. Yes, that’s all I need.”

  He picked up the box and tucked it under his arm. The rusty hinges creaked in protest as he swung open the aging door. He stepped outside, squinted at the sun, and then walked up the gravel drive to the house.

  He stopped in the mudroom and retrieved a hammer from a hook on the wall, dropped it in the box, and then carried it into the house, and up the steps.

  He was heading for Jenny’s room.

  He swung open the door, and stepped inside.

  He inspected the spot on the wall, beside the door, where the hole had been. He had fixed it up. It looked pretty good now, but could use a little paint perhaps.

  He dropped the box on the floor, and picked out the hammer and eyelet. He scrutinized the floor for a moment, and chose a spot close to the center of the room. He bent down and pounded the screw end of the eyelet into the floor, at a spot where he knew there was a floor joist. He drove it in about an inch, and then got the crowbar, put it through the eyelet and twisted round and round until the eyelet was drawn down tight, digging into the floorboards.

  He tested it with his fingers. Can’t budge it. He sat back on his haunches and smiled with satisfaction.

  “That will hold. Yes, that will surely hold.”

  Next, he grabbed the long piece of chain and a padlock from the box, and fastened the chain securely to the eyelet. He stood up, holding the end of the chain, and pulled and tugged as hard as he could.

  “Perfect. Yes, that’s perfect.”

  He let the chain slide from his grasp as he stood back. He surveyed his accomplishment with great satisfaction, and then packed up his tools, and carried them back downstairs.

  Sunday, August
14th, 1:00 PM

  JAKE FLIPPED open the trunk of Annie’s Ford Escort and peered inside. The shovel and rope were still in there, from her trip to the forest. From the day she had bravely gone alone, and found a buried body. He shook his head. She’s got spunk, that’s for sure.

  He took the items from the trunk and carried them to the garage. The door was already open, so he went inside and dropped them on the floor along the side wall.

  He went back to the car, picked up the cooler sitting on the driveway, and set it into the trunk.

  Matty came running out of the house. “Don’t forget these,” he yelled. He ran over to the trunk and dropped a pair of baseball gloves and a baseball inside.

  “Where’s your Mom?” Jake asked.

  “She’s coming. You know how women are,” Matty said dryly.

  Jake grinned. “Yeah.”

  Jake headed to the house, just as Annie came out. She had on a straw hat and carried a blanket under one arm, and a beach bag bulging with stuff in the other hand. “Get the door, will you?”

  Jake took the steps two at a time, carefully retrieved the key Annie held between her teeth, and locked the door. He dropped the key into his pocket.

  “I’ll take that,” he said, as he relieved her of the bag.

  The bag and the blanket were packed into the trunk. Jake found a couple of lawn chairs in the garage, which he dropped on top of everything else, and then climbed into the car where Annie and Matty were waiting.

  He looked over his shoulder to make sure Matty had his seat belt on. He was struggling with it, but in a second, it snapped into place.

  Jake and Annie buckled up as well, and Jake twisted the key, pulled the shifter into drive, and touched the gas.

  “This is my car,” said Annie, “so please, keep the rubber on the tires.”

  Jake laughed as he eased the car quietly, and slowly, out of the drive and down the street.

  Their destination was a small neighborhood park a couple of blocks away. They pulled into one of several parking spots.

  This popular local spot was situated on about a half acre of land, and was liberally covered with huge spreading maples. A few picnic tables were scattered throughout the area, and Jake noticed with satisfaction there appeared to be no other picnickers around.

  Jake and Matty dragged everything from the trunk over to the nearest picnic table. Annie dug out a plastic tablecloth from the bag and tacked it to the table, while Jake lounged in a lawn chair, sipping on a can of Coke, as he watched her.

  Matty seemed to have too much energy inside him, as he raced around the park, probably chasing bees and butterflies.

  Sometimes they brought a portable barbecue, but today he decided against it. Maybe next time.

  Matty was back. He tossed a glove at his father. “Come on Dad. Let’s play catch.”

  Jake climbed from his comfortable chair and joined Matty, while Annie dug a John Grisham book out of her bag and settled back to read.

  In a few minutes, Jake and Matty came panting back. They doused themselves inside and out with cold water, and fell on the grass for a rest.

  Sandwiches and salads, and of course, apple pie, were soon spread out on the table along with paper plates, plastic utensils, cups, and paper napkins. Soon, the boys had recovered enough, and were ready to eat.

  Matty couldn’t keep still so he wandered around the park, a sandwich in either hand, looking for squirrels.

  Tomorrow I plan to go to the High School,” Annie said. “I want to see if they have any cameras in front of the school that may have picked up something...”

  “That’s a great idea,” Jake interrupted.

  Annie continued, “I also want to go to Mortinos and talk to Jeremy. He lives over near the area where I, uh, found Bronson. He may have seen or heard something.”

  “How about this,” Jake asked, “you go see Jeremy, and I’ll hit the school.”

  Annie nodded. “Ok,” she said.

  Jake felt a buzzing in his pocket. His cell phone. It was Hank.

  “Jake, I’m planning on holding a press conference this afternoon, at three o’clock, in front of the precinct. Do you guys want to be there?”

  Jake consulted Annie.

  Annie looked at her watch, and then at Matty. “I think we should.”

  “We’ll be there.” Jake said into the phone.

  Chapter 33

  Sixteen Years Ago

  JEREMY DIDN’T LIKE Grandmother. Not at all. It seemed to him she was nothing but a mean old witch.

  Mother had to go away. She said there was a meeting of the parole board in Kingston, and would be gone all day.

  She had left early in the morning, and Grandmother came over to watch him, while she was away.

  “Now you be a good boy, Jeremy, and do what Grandmother tells you,” she had warned him before she left.

  “Yes, Mother,” he had replied.

  And now she was gone, and he was stuck here with the witch.

  He watched her now, sitting in Father’s chair, knitting. She was a shrunken old woman. Her hair was too thin and her lips were way too tight. And the way she squinted through her glasses when she looked at him, made him think about an old prune.

  “Jeremy, why don’t you go outside and get out of my hair?” she snarled at him.

  What hair, Jeremy thought. But he decided it was better to be outside, where he could forget about that old hag for a while.

  On his way out, he passed through the kitchen. He’d had a much too small breakfast that morning and his stomach was grumbling. He looked over to the counter beside the fridge.

  I’ll have a couple of cookies.

  He lifted the lid off of the jar carefully, reached in, grabbed two fat chocolate chip cookies, and slipped them in his pocket.

  “You little devil!” Grandmother screamed.

  He spun around. She was hobbling across the floor, a determined look on her face.

  “You little sinner,” she screamed again, as she raised her hand and swung it with all her force. The blow caught him on the side of the head, knocking him on his back.

  She stood over him. “You’re nothing but a thief,” she shrieked. “A wicked, wicked thief.”

  He cowered back and trembled as she leered at him.

  He started to cry.

  “Get a tissue and clean yourself up,” she screeched. She stood towering over him, her hands on her hips, a menacing look on her face.

  He got slowly to his feet. She cuffed him once more on the back of the head, forcing his head to shoot forward. He stumbled, then tripped and fell against the stove, head first.

  He landed on his back again.

  Again she screamed, “Get up, you horrible little creature.” She pointed. “Go up to your room until I decide what to do with you.”

  He rose unsteadily. He felt dizzy as he staggered from the kitchen, and headed up the steps to his bedroom.

  A screech behind him. “I’ll be up later to deal with you.”

  He finally made it up the stairs, stumbled and fell through his bedroom door, and lay on his bed and cried.

  A few minutes later, he began to tremble in fear when he heard Grandmother’s footsteps on the stairs. He curled up on the bed and watched the door. Waiting.

  She was there now. She was carrying one of Father’s belts.

  “Get your shirt off now, and take your pants down,” she screamed.

  The tears flowed as he did as he was told.

  “Now bend over the bed.”

  He did.

  The first blow made him catch his breath. He didn’t think he had ever felt that much pain in his life.

  The blows continued. One after another.

  Whack. Pain. Whack. Pain. Whack.

  Then it was over. “Let that be a lesson to you,” she screamed, and then she was gone.

  He pulled up his pants. His back was too sore to put his shirt on, so he lay down on his stomach, and cried himself to sleep.

  He slept and tossed
most of the day. Finally, somewhere in the middle of the afternoon he was awakened by the sound of a car, crunching in the driveway. He looked out the window. It’s Mother. He was never so happy to see her.

  He put his shirt on and went into the bathroom, washing his face before going downstairs.

  Mother was inside now, and she heard him coming. She gave him a hug when he reached the bottom of the steps. He winced in pain at her touch, but then smiled bravely and looked up at her.

  “Welcome home, Mother.”

  She smiled at him. “I hope you were a good boy,” she said.

  He nodded up at her, and stepped outside. Away from Grandmother.

  She came out a few minutes later with Grandmother. He watched as they got in the car. She was taking her home. She’ll be back in five minutes.

  And she was.

  When she returned, she called Jeremy into the house. “Grandmother told me what you did,” she said sternly.

  He looked at her. She looked kind, but a little angry maybe.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was hungry.”

  “Next time just ask first,” she said gently.

  “Yes Mother,” he said meekly. He looked at his feet.

  “Grandmother said she had to punish you. She was right, and I hope you learned a lesson here.”

  “Yes Mother, I sure did.”

  Chapter 34

  Sunday, August 14th, 3:00 PM

  THE RECENT murders in Richmond Hill were suddenly big news.

  It seemed like all of the national television and news media were here, nudging each other for precious space, packed like sardines, swarming about, just waiting.

  Behind them, news vans lined the street in both directions. Many blocked passing vehicles, and officers were milling about, directing traffic, and threatening to tow away the parking offenders. Rubberneckers were further hampering the flow of cars, and many of the curious had pulled over to see what was happening.

  Lisa Krunk had a prominent place in the front line. She’d been waiting all day. As soon as she had heard about the scheduled news conference, she rushed over, dragging Don with her.