“Do you want me to go in with you?” Frank asked.
“Not at first. Watch from here,” Manuel told him. “I’ll motion to you when I need you.”
“I get it.” Frank’s brow rose. “Good cop, bad cop?”
With a nod, Manuel opened the door to the interview room and stepped inside. As soon as Paul saw him, he stopped pacing and pointed his finger at the detective.
“You’re a fucking piece of work, Detective,” Paul spat. “Dragging me here for no good reason and refusing to let me contact my attorney. I have rights. I’ll have your badge over this. You’re lucky if I don’t sue the whole damn police department.”
Manuel did not have the time nor the patience for Paul’s tantrum. “Sit the fuck down,” he said through gritted teeth as he took hold of the reporter’s shoulder with an iron grip and shoved him into a chair. The force caused Paul’s glasses to slide down his nose.
He quickly reached up to adjust them. “What’s your problem?” he snapped, taken aback by Manuel’s aggressive behavior.
Manuel tried to push his rage down a notch, but he really needed to get his hands on that video. “Look, Mr. Reiss, I don’t have time to play your games.” He huffed out a breath that hung between them for a second or two. “You’re going to turn over that video.” His brows furrowed. “We can do things the easy way, or the hard way. It’s your choice.”
Paul’s expression hardened. “I don’t have to give you shit. That video is the property of the Mercury News.”
Cool your jets, Manuel tried to talk himself down before he shoved the reporter’s head through the wall. “That video is evidence,” he said, his voice a little calmer. Then he reached inside the pocket of his jacket and leaned in closer. “I’ve got a warrant to seize that video,” he said as he retrieved a piece of paper and held it in front of the reporter’s face. “If you’d cooperated when my partner and I came by your apartment, we could have saved all this trouble in the first place.”
Paul peered at the warrant through a pair of thick lenses and then focused his eyes back on Manuel. “I don’t...” He exhaled a deep breath, “have it anymore.”
“What do you mean you don’t have it anymore?” Manuel asked roughly, his patience wearing thin. “Where in the hell is it?”
“One of your guys has it.”
Manuel straightened and stuffed the warrant back into his pocket. “What are you talking about?”
“A cop from this precinct,” Paul told him. “He offered me five grand, so I took the money. Everyone’s gotta make a living, right?”
“How do you know he’s a cop?” Manuel grilled the reporter. “Did he give you his name?”
Paul shook his head. “He said he was a cop but wished to remain anonymous. I didn’t even get a look at this guy. Besides, I didn’t care about his identity. I just wanted the money. We had an arrangement for the exchange.”
“What kind of arrangement?” Manuel demanded.
“The guy had me drop off the video at a cemetery. The very one where those attacks occurred.”
Manuel narrowed his eyes. “Are you talking about the Salem Cemetery?”
When Paul nodded, Manuel said, “What about the money? How did you make the trade-off?”
“In a mausoleum,” said Paul. “And there was something strange about the drop-off location.”
“What do you mean strange?”
“It was at the place where Carla Rosi’s parents put an empty casket,” Paul said grimly. “You know...” He looked at Manuel unsettled. “...the body of the dead girl they found in that open grave. The one that had been missing for years. The same grave your men found that girl who claimed she was bitten by a werewolf.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Manuel grumbled. “I know the one you’re talking about.”
“So, do you think the video is somehow connected to the murders, and this cop?” Paul quizzed Manuel, the reporter in him coming out. “You think the cop is the killer?”
“It doesn’t matter what the hell I think,” Manuel shot back. “Just like I told you before. This case is none of your damn business.”
“Oh come on, Detective,” Paul said in a whiny voice. “For crying out loud, give me something to go on. I couldn’t get that cop to tell me a damn thing.”
Manuel leaned forward and got in the reporter’s face. “I’ll give you something all right,” he ground out. “How does a jail cell sound?”
“What?” Paul’s eyes rounded. “You don’t have the right to arrest me.”
“Don’t I?” Manuel smirked. “You illegally obtained money in exchange for crucial evidence to a case.” He jabbed a finger at the reporter’s chest. “I can get you for extortion. Under federal and state laws, it carries a prison sentence up to twenty years.”
Paul stiffened in his chair. “Now wait one damn minute,” he argued. “I know something or another about the law. You refused my rights to an attorney, and you failed to give me my Miranda rights. Everything that I’ve said isn’t legally binding.”
“You still refused to turn over evidence,” Manuel said, managing to keep his temper.
“What evidence?” Paul shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He grabbed the front of Paul’s pinstriped Oxford shirt and yanked him to his feet. Then he slammed him against the wall so hard the reporter’s glasses bounced off his face and crashed to the floor.
Manuel put his face so close to the reporter’s they could have kissed. “Don’t give me that shit,” he said, more loudly than he had intended. “I heard you on the damn radio bragging about the video, dumbass. How did you think I knew about it in the first place?” He gritted his teeth. “It won’t be difficult to get that recording from the radio station. That’s all the evidence I need to lock your ass up.”
Paul blew out a deep breath. “Alright, alright,” he said. His face suddenly flushed, and sweat beaded his forehead. “What the hell do you want from me?”
“You’re going to do something for me,” said Manuel, keeping his hand fisted in Paul’s shirt. “You’re going to draw attention to that dirty cop.”
“Isn’t that considered extortion?”
Manuel slammed him again. A painful groan echoed through the room. “Tell you what, Mr. Reiss. If you work with me, you might actually walk out of here. Otherwise, I’m going to enjoy putting you in a cell with a bunch of gangbangers. And I bet you’d be pretty popular there. Nice white boy like you. Do you understand these rights as I’ve stated them?”
“Shit,” Paul muttered under his breath. As fear kicked in, he seemed to consider the detective’s deal for a moment. With a slight nod, he stammered, “I... if I agree, won’t that be breaking the law?”
“Nope,” Manuel said. “Not if you’re doing it without payment. You’re going to agree to do this because it’s the civil thing to do.”
“Okay,” Paul finally said, releasing a heavy sigh. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t put me in jail.”
“Smart decision,” Manuel replied as he released his grip and watched the reporter square his shoulders and rearrange his rumpled shirt. “Hang tight for a minute while I get my partner. I’ll be back to discuss our agreement and go over the paperwork. I’d hate not to follow proper protocol.”
As Manuel stepped out of the interview room and shut the door behind him, his partner said, “Whatever happened with the good cop scenario?”
“The bad cop seems to be more effective,” he told Frank.
Frank rolled his eyes. “Did you get Mr. Reiss to agree to cough up that video?”
Manuel shook his head. “He sold it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Frank replied, and then tacked on, “Did he say who he sold it to?”
“Apparently he sold it to one of our finest here at this precinct, but Mr. Reiss didn’t get a make on the guy. And there’s more,” Manuel went on. “The drop-off location was in the mausoleum where Carla Rosi’s parents placed that empty coffin.”
�
�Holy shit,” Frank bit out. “You think this cop might have something to do with the murders?”
“You sound like that reporter,” Manuel replied. “He asked the very same question.”
“Well?” Frank shrugged. “Do you think there’s a connection?”
“Could be. I’m definitely not throwing the theory out the door.”
“So what’s the plan now?” Frank asked.
“During Mr. Reiss’s interview...” Manuel paused with a sinister grin on his face. “...I suddenly got an epiphany.”
Frank crossed his arms and looked at Manuel with an inquisitive stare. “Is that so? Please, do tell.” His voice expressed a hint of dry humor. “The suspense is killing me.”
“Since one of our fellow officers seems to be so interested in that video, I thought we’d let him know there’s another one, although you and I both know there isn’t.”
Frank cocked a brow. “And how are we going to do that?”
“We’ll put the reporter back on the radio,” Manuel said. “He can go on the air and brag about having more footage of our mystery werewolf. Maybe it will captivate our guy’s attention to contact Mr. Reiss with another offer. If he does, we’ll stake out the exchange location.”
“So how did you get Mr. Reiss to cooperate?”
“I was very persuasive,” Manuel bluntly remarked. “We just need to have him sign a waiver acknowledging he understands and agrees to go along with our plan and wear a wire.”
“You should notify the Covenant,” Frank suggested. “They’re going to want to know about that video. And before you have Mr. Reiss sign any agreement, you better run this by the Captain first. You know how he gets when we go ahead and do shit without checking with him first.”
Manuel nodded. “Yeah.” He raised a brow. “Believe me, I know all too well.”
The sound of Manuel’s phone going off abruptly halted their conversation. “Hang on,” he said as he dug his cell phone out of his back pocket. When he looked at the screen, he recognized the caller and glanced up at Frank. “I guess I won’t need to make that call to the Covenant after all. It’s Tim Ross.”
When Frank nodded, Manuel swiped to answer and put the phone up to his ear. “This is Detective Sanchez.”
After a few moments of silence, Frank noticed that Manuel’s facial expression grew tense.
“Don’t let anyone else touch it,” Manuel finally said. “If we’re lucky, we might be able to get some prints. Detective Perkins and I will be there shortly.”
As he ended the call, Frank said, “What’s going on?”
“Apparently someone got past security at the Covenant,” he replied. “They left a journal in Ms. McCain’s room. And going by the name on the outside, it belongs to a Nicolas Ratcliff.”
Frank’s eyes rounded. “Surely it’s not our Nicolas Ratcliff.”
“Who knows,” Manuel said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s hard to believe, but it’s quite the coincidence, wouldn’t you say? You have to wonder. Nicolas has always seemed odd.”
“Yeah, I get that about him.” Frank nodded in agreement. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s one hell of a detective, and I like the guy, but it seems like he doesn’t belong in our time. I never paid much attention to it until now. I just thought it was his Southern upbringing.”
“Well,” Manuel let out a long sigh, “if it is the very same Nicolas we know here at the precinct, he’s linked to the creature.”
“How so?”
“According to that journal,” Manuel briefly paused with his brow raised, “he’s the creature’s brother.”
“Shit,” Frank said under his breath. “This can’t be the same guy. We’ve known Detective Ratcliff for at least fifteen years.”
Manuel sighed. “I know, but after everything we’ve come across in the last year, anything is possible. And think about it. The reporter did say he sold that video to one of our guys here at this precinct. And the only few people that had access to it was us, Captain Hodge, Detective Lacher, and Detective Ratcliff.”
Frank shook his head in disbelief. “Yeah, it makes sense. But why would Nicolas want that tape? It isn’t connected to the creature. That was Jimmy Fratianno.”
“That’s a good question,” Manuel said. “Before we confront him, let’s see if we can get some prints off that journal. And then we’ll go from there.”
“The way things are going, we may not need our reporter’s help after all,” Frank mentioned.
“Yeah,” said Manuel. “I can’t say I hate the idea. Mr. Reiss seems to be more trouble than he’s worth.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Anxious to continue reading Nicolas’s last recorded events, Jena settled comfortably back into her bed and opened the journal. Turning to the page where she left off, Jena began to read, hoping it would reveal the answers to all the questions that plagued her mind.
September 28, 1819—I will never forget the first time I laid eyes upon my brother after he had risen from the dead. It was as though I had stepped into my worst of nightmares, although I knew all too well that my eyes did not deceive me.
After following the Master’s instructions with careful exactness, I awaited what seemed to be the longest three days of my life. I found myself to be joyful at the thought of Ashton alive and breathing once again, yet fretful of the unknown. Once he awoke, would he be angered and resentful by my decision to bring him back to the living, or welcome what I had chosen with open arms?
As instructed, I placed my brother’s corpse inside an above-ground tomb in the cemetery of the “Cities of the Dead,” and covered him with sanctified soil before I sealed his coffin. I was to wait three days and then return to find Ash, once again, among the living. That is what I believed to be, but surprisingly, on that third day, as I opened his coffin, I found it empty. My mind contemplated the possible implications. The first thought that came to mind was that perhaps Ash had already risen and somehow escaped the confined tomb. Then my thoughts went to the cemetery’s undertaker. Would he have taken Ashton’s body? Out of nowhere, something else occurred to me. Could it be that all this had been a cruel scheme just to gain my soul? The thought of being misled angered me to no end. The torment of false hopes burned deep within me, but soon my unpleasant emotion shifted from rage to fear.
What I saw next, peering inside the crypt, brought me to my knees. The moment I saw him—an unGodly creature combined with Ash’s features and that of a wolfish beast—I knew what I had done. In that instant, I could feel my new life crumbling before me. As I looked upon what used to be my handsome brother, the brother I adored and loved with all my heart, I wanted to die. I silently begged for God’s forgiveness. How could I be responsible for such? Was I evil? Could I restore the depravity that I had created?
I remember my words all too clearly. “Forgive me, brother, for I have damned our souls.”
His glowing eyes just stared at me for a moment, and then my brother, the beastly creature, spoke to me. “No, little brother.” His voice seemed rough, but still I recognized it was Ashton. “You freed my soul. You gave me a new beginning.” His hideous mouth seemingly formed a wolfish grin, exposing rows of sharp teeth. “If not for you, I would be burning in hell’s eternal flames.”
I was shocked at his declaration. My brother was amazingly calm in his newfound transformation. It was then I feverishly wondered if Ash was to be stuck in this ghastly form for the remainder of his life. If so, what kind of life would this serve?
With all the puzzling questions whirling inside my head, I found that I would surely lose what sanity I had left if I did not seek the answers.
“I make no judgments upon you, brother. But please, tell me,” I asked, praying my words would not offend him. “Are you to be trapped in this beastly form for eternity?”
“No,” he answered, moving closer. “I am still the brother you grew up to know, only better now.”
“But how?” I said to him suddenly.
“Don’t you feel it, l
ittle brother?” He held out his clawed hands and flexed his long, hairy fingers as though he held some kind of magic within them. “These hands, strong hands, wield the power of life and death.”
Hearing his words, there was no question in my mind that Ashton was now a killer. I could not bear this truth. My agony was unbearable. I closed my eyes, and in my pain, I silently asked God, praying he would have pity, could I take back what I had done?
As I waited for God’s answer, if only the slightest suggestion, I heard a voice whisper beside me. “Set yourself free, little brother. Let all the pain go.”
When I opened my eyes again, Ash stood facing me. Not the beast, but my brother, a smile on his human face. “You are not evil,” he whispered as he took hold of my hand. “We are immortal. The world is at our feet. Do not turn away from it. You must embrace it to the fullest.”
I nodded at Ash as he nodded at me. It was at that moment I knew there was no turning back. It felt as though the world had gone mad, and I along with it. For I now know the truth about my poor brother.
It was three months after Ash’s death when Isabella planned to return from England to pay her respects. After I had sent her the dreadful news, I had no idea Ash would return from the dead, although she quickly returned a letter in response.
Jena became curious as she turned the fragile page and discovered another envelope. As she read the outside, she realized it was a letter from Isabella addressed to Nicolas. Carefully, she reached inside and retrieved the delicate piece of paper. As soon as she unfolded it, she began to read.
My dearest Nicolas,
After receiving your letter of this dreadful news, I find myself utterly distraught and overcome with grief. I have asked my Mother Superior for a leave of absence to pay my respects, but due to my recent vow of stability, I cannot take leave for three months. I promise as soon as permitted I will return home with haste.
I hope my prayers find you, dear Nicolas, some comfort.
Dear Father of all,
Give us the strength to surpass this unfortunate day. I pray you bring comfort to Ashton Christopher Ratcliff, and for all who loved him. Grant Ashton your power of forgiveness and shield him from suffering, dear Lord. May his soul rest in eternal peace. In Jesus Christ’s name, Amen.
THE IMMORTAL: A Novel of the Breedline series Page 30