Can't Let Go

by David Horne

  There were four medical examiner offices staged throughout Virginia. The county building housing the ME office in the northern district, closest to Fredericksburg, was located on Pyramid Place.

  After Joshua parked the car, before they got out, he looked at Trevor.

  “I feel like I’m doing something wrong. I feel like I’m breaking the law. I’m pretty sure we’re breaking the law.” It came out in short, quick bursts.

  “Well, you look good doing it.” Joshua had nothing to say to comfort Trevor. While they had no ill intent, they were about to break the law, firstly by impersonating police officers, and next by suggesting they had anything to do with the case.

  His badge from the retirement plaque seated in the wallet fold hanging from the black department store suit jacket was enough to grant Joshua a felony.

  “It’s not like they send out a memo to all agencies when a detective retires,” he whispered to Trevor as they crossed the parking lot. “Chances are, we’ll breeze right into the place. I know a couple of people here. They’ll recognize me. All I want is the autopsy report. I want to see how extensive Stuart’s burns were and if he died of asphyxiation. We’ll be in and out of there.” He smiled. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “You’ll owe me more than lunch for this.” Trevor reached over and squeezed Joshua’s elbow.

  “Just let me do the talking; you do what you do best.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Stand beside me looking smoking hot.”

  They passed through the security checkpoint without delay. The Prince William County Sheriff deputies on duty for security at the county office building barely looked up at Trevor or Joshua. There were three younger officers, and they shared one smartphone between them, watching something on its tiny screen.

  He shared a look with Joshua. Trevor went first through the open doorway while Joshua held open the door.

  “The ME office is down here.” Joshua took the lead. The wild tiled hallway was characteristic to the architecture from the 1940s in the United States. Building designed and designated for official business had an imperial structure with high ceilings, broad staircases winding along both sides of the main hall. The receptionist had an island alcove desk that faced the front entrance. She smiled at Trevor and Joshua as they strolled by without signing in.

  Trevor bit his lip, stayed closed to Joshua’s shoulder, and kept pace.

  The turned down a hallway under the stairwell and followed it for a time before stopping at the door with an engraved faceplate.

  “You ready?” Joshua whispered. He didn’t wait for a reply as he flipped the door handle and breezed through as if he owned the place.

  “Roy Jellis around?” he asked the first person he saw wearing scrubs.

  The woman barely looked up from a clipboard, pointing behind her along the white-tiled corridor. Joshua followed the direction, Trevor stayed close behind. It was a narrow hallway, cubicles on one side, doors to offices on the other.

  Joshua reached one door and rapped lightly. He opened it.

  “Josh,” the man at the desk said looking up from a file. “How are you?”

  The room was slightly more significant than the guest bathroom at the house, Trevor compared. The man wore a powder blue scrub top and drawstring bottoms. Trevor couldn’t see the shoes. He assumed footwear was comfortable over stylish. They had to be on their feet most of the day, the floor was tile, and likely the autopsy room was cement.

  “Roy Jellis,” Joshua said, he presented Trevor, “This is my partner, Trevor Emerton.”

  Trevor shook hands with Roy. He smiled because the introduction was accurate on a few levels.

  Roy frowned. “What happened to Larry?”

  “He retired.”

  So far Joshua had told the truth on all counts.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

  At that point, Trevor witnessed the casual and commanding way Joshua manipulated Roy to give him everything he wanted.

  “You know, we were looking into the death of,” he started and retrieved the smartphone from the inside pocket of the blazer. “Guy’s name is Stuart Chittenden.” Trevor saw the screen on Joshua’s phone showed a picture of the two of them standing together during one of their barbeques last summer. He liked that picture of them, and it turned out, so did Joshua. “He was seventy-two, died in a house fire a few weeks ago.”

  Roy snapped his fingers. Immediately he went to the filing cabinet. “I remember. You know he’s still here.”

  “Yeah,” Joshua said quietly. “He doesn’t have anyone. His ex-wife didn’t want to claim the body.”

  Roy retrieved a blue manila folder from the cabinet. Trevor noticed there was a color-coding system at work. Three colors for the folders. He didn’t ask or care which color meant what. He stood waiting, hands folded at his front, still quaking with fear.

  “So what’s up with him?”

  “Did you autopsy the body?” Joshua asked. He had his hand out for the folder. Roy still had it in his grasp.

  “No, Betty did the preliminary on the body. We didn’t get the notice from the police department for an extensive autopsy.” Roy flipped through the file. Trevor glimpsed photos inside he didn’t want to see in detail. Charred remains, the stark white of teeth when the lips pulled back or burned off from the fire, he swallowed and looked around the office. “Case of smoking in bed,” Roy noted.

  “So Betty made a note of smoking?”

  “Yeah,” Roy said, still reading the notes inside the file. “Looks like there was a cylinder of ash recovered from inside the folds of the man’s t-shirt.

  “Is that characteristic of a cigar or cigarette?”

  “It was too big for a burned cigarette.”

  “What about smoke inhalation?”

  “Soot in the sinus cavity, mouth, and throat.”

  “Do you have anything about signs of accelerant on the body?” Each time Joshua asked, he put out his hand to retrieve the file. Each time, Roy pulled back and continued to read the notes.

  “Nothing that stands out,” he noted. “I don’t see if they swabbed for particulates because it was signed off by the investigators as an accident.” Roy looked up from the file. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re just following up on the fire. The deeper we dig into it, the more it looks like foul play.”

  Roy lifted the file in the air after he closed it. “Do you want me to send this back to Betty? She can reexamine the body, dig a little deeper.” Autopsy humor wasn’t lost to Trevor. The smile on Roy’s face suggested he’d attempted to make his audience laugh and failed.

  “Not yet,” Joshua said. “The police department doesn’t want to put more money into the case yet. Not until we can get enough contrary evidence that circumvents the original investigation.” Then he gave Roy a serious look. “Tell me, in your expert opinion, what do you think about it?”

  Roy opened the file again. This time he went through the pages slowly. They waited. When he was finished reading, Trevor watched the man shake his head.

  “Well, if he were my case, I would have cracked him open.” Billing for autopsies went to the police department in the case of suspicious deaths. Roy held up a glossy color photograph. Trevor held his breath. “See how the fire is localized around the chin and upper body, the way his skin and clothes burned?” Roy moved the photo between Joshua and Trevor. “That reminds me of accelerant used on the body.”

  “Wouldn’t he wake up?” Trevor asked. Seemed likely if someone were burning to death, they’d want to wake up and try to put it out.

  Roy dropped the photo into the file and closed it. It dropped to the desk, on the top of similar records. It was the only one on the desk that was blue. “Not necessarily. I’d have swabbed the body, the mouth, taken blood. It’s not my call; I wasn’t the pathologist on duty. Betty did what she thought was relevant to the case. Sometimes narcotics are involved. They ran blood tests. Showed Chittenden had alcohol in his system. Not en
ough to intoxicate him. There were high levels of sleep aid in his system too. That cocktail can cause a catalyst response in the system. By the look of the body, Chittenden died in his sleep. If you’re going to burn to death, it’s better that way than waking up,” Roy added.

  “So, you think it’s cut and dry?” Joshua had a way of putting doubt in the man’s thoughts. Trevor saw the suspicion pass over Roy’s face.

  “I’m not going to make a ruling on a colleague’s work, Josh. That’s not my style.”

  “Thanks for your time, Roy.” Joshua shook hands with the man again.

  “Good to see you.” He looked at Trevor. “Nice to meet you, Trevor,” he said shaking hands with Trevor and added, “Got to keep an eye on this guy.”

  “Don’t worry,” Trevor said. “I am.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  In the days that followed the trip to the medical examiner’s office, Trevor felt the overwhelming sense of pride about Joshua’s ability to get the information he wanted without breaking too many laws. He told the truth, asked questions that got results, and by the time they left the office, he saw the look of doubt on the pathologist’s face, suggesting Joshua had successfully planted a germinating seed.

  Trevor invited Nora to dinner. He wanted the two of them to have some time together. The results of Joshua’s MRI were still out. While Trevor wanted to call to ask the doctor about it, Joshua acted as though he wasn’t interested. They were on the edge of something that could change the course of their relationship. Trevor loved Joshua dearly. When the man looked back at him, sometimes it felt as if Joshua had to take a few minutes to process Trevor face before they had a conversation. It wasn’t something that Joshua wanted to address immediately.

  Nora sat beside Trevor, across from Joshua at the dinner table. They had vegetarian lasagna, baked garlic bread, and two bottles of wine. The three adults were well lubricated with wine as they ate, laughed, and talked.

  “You know, I meant to tell you.” Nora wiped her mouth with a napkin before she continued. “We got an amended ruling on your neighbor.”

  “What do you mean?” Trevor asked timidly. He felt the cold knot form in his stomach.

  She picked up the wine glass, turning it in her wrist, so the red wine chased the rim of the glass before she sipped it.

  “Turns out they took another look at the body. Apparently, since it was still at the morgue, one of the pathologists did a follow-up exam.”

  “Oh,” Trevor added.

  “That doesn’t usually happen.” She finished off the wine in the glass and Joshua immediately refilled it. “Unless one of the detectives requests a further inquiry, normally the autopsy is static.” She leveled her eyes on Joshua. “It’s as if the doctor felt there was something suspicious about Chittenden’s death.”

  Joshua shrugged casually.

  His laid-back attitude caught Nora by surprise. “I would have thought you’d be excited about that.”

  Joshua shook his head. “The pathologists doing their jobs does make me happy. But I’ve been telling you all along that something was wrong with the case, to begin with.”

  “What did they find out?” Trevor didn’t want Nora digging too deep into Joshua’s smug exterior. She’d eventually get through that armor.

  “Turns out Chittenden died from an overdose, compounded by the fire.”

  “Is it ruled arson now?” Joshua asked, lips close to his wine glass.

  “No.” Nora shook her head exaggerated. Trevor knew it was her third glass of wine. She never went past two when she visited. Now Joshua had plied the third glass, and she was compelled to drink it. “It’s just accidental death. Not arson.”

  “Did they take swabs of the clothes?”

  “You mean like your little science experiment in the garage?” she quipped. “You two think you’re funny.” She pointed a loaded finger between her father and Trevor. “If I find out either of you had anything to do with this, I’ll,” and she stopped. There was nothing she’d do to her father or Trevor. She’d get angry, but they were close, she’d never stay away too long.

  “I’ve got fresh sheets on the bed in the spare room.” Trevor put out his hand on the table.

  Obliged, Nora dug into the pocket of her jeans and dropped the car keys into his hand. She tipped the contents of the wine glass down her throat.

  ***

  “Take a look at this,” Joshua said later, after they had cleared the table. Trevor and Joshua had stood side by side at the sink, doing dishes, handing off plates from washer to dryer.

  Nora sat on the couch, feet curled under her. She had a few spare clothes at the house. She’d exchanged the jeans for yoga pants. A long-sleeve t-shirt for the button-down dress shirt, and left the badge, gun, and bullet-proof vest, the duty gear went to the spare bedroom.

  Joshua handed her a file.

  Nora took it and started looking through it. After a few minutes, she read more. Trevor saw the facial changes from disinterest to concentration. When she finished reading, she closed the file and handed it back to her father. He sat beside her on the sofa.

  “I can see why this one bothers you.”

  “You see how close it is to what we have now?”

  “We?”

  “I meant in the sense that it feels like a crime happened next door and no one is doing anything about it.”

  “You heard me earlier, right?”

  “Yes, I get the pathologist changed the ruling on Stuart’s death. But you can’t trade one accident for another. There’s something else going on here.”

  “You know you need evidence.” She shook her head. Her eyes were glassy, red-rimmed. She was intoxicated but functioning. “I can’t do anything more about your friend’s death.” She pointed to the file on the coffee table. “I will give you that had I been on that case, I would have done more about it. I’m sorry that Larry stepped on your toes.”

  “He was lazy,” Joshua responded.

  “It’s not good when a detective stops caring about why they do their jobs.”

  “You care a lot, don’t you?” Trevor asked.

  Nora regarded Trevor with tired eyes and a smile. The social lubricant had eased her tension. She’d been galvanized by the events next door that landed her father twice in the hospital. Now Nora was relaxed. “I love what I do. I love it more when we follow the evidence and catch our killers.”

  “I’m thankful we don’t have a lot of homicides in this town,” Trevor said.

  “Me too,” she added.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Trevor woke with a start. He had a vision of someone on fire, dancing around a confined space. It was a nightmare that made him gasp for air. Reaching over, he felt the sleeping form of Joshua. A rare treat to find him still in bed at that time of the morning, Trevor knew it had to do with the amount of wine Joshua had at dinner.

  He climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom. The house was subtle and quiet. There was a mild breeze outside. Through the bathroom window, that faced the vacant neighbor’s house, Trevor had to reflect on what he saw glancing through the window after he urinated. There was a dark silhouette that skirted along the privacy fence. It was their side of the property. The shadowy figure was hunched over, running at speed from the back of the house to the front along the fence on the side of the yard. It was a startling image, worse than his nightmare.

  Trevor backed away from the bathroom window and wandered down the hallway to the bedroom and opened the door. He went to the side of the bed, bent over and whispered.

  “Nora, there’s someone outside.”

  Immediately, she responded. Years of training, the police officer was on her feet, she staggered slightly, bumping into Trevor. “Where?” she rasped, “Where’s Dad?”

  “He’s still asleep. I came to get you.”

  “Call 911,” she directed. She scrambled to grab the pistol from the basket-weave hip holster. “Tell them Detective Tamblyn is on the scene and needs immediate backup. Tell them…”
and she was out the bedroom door running down the hallway to the front of the house.

  Trevor hurried back to the bedroom and retrieved his phone. Joshua stirred. “What’s going on?”

  “Um,” he started addressing Joshua as the dispatcher answered the emergency call. He gave the address as Joshua jumped from the bed. When he heard his daughter had run outside, Joshua moved through the doorway and bolted from the house.

  Trevor followed, giving the details Nora told him. Then he heard it. The unmistakable sound was like an explosion in the otherwise quiet neighborhood. The dispatcher heard it through the call and told Trevor to take cover. He ignored the woman, running toward the direction of the sound.

  When he rounded the corner of the property, ran down the side yard, he saw Joshua sitting on the damp lawn, cradling his daughter in his lap. In the dark of night, the blood looked black covering both of them.

  Processing one horrible moment, he dropped the phone and ran to Joshua and Nora.

  “Help me move her.”

  Trevor felt the intense heat. There was the rush of flames, and something exploded inside the house. The plywood over the windows suppressed the ignition. The house burned as if made of matchsticks and paper. The heat was so hot that Trevor had a hard time catching his breath as he lifted Nora with Joshua and pulled her further into the back yard, away from the fire-engulfed house.

  “Press here,” Joshua told Trevor. The man took Trevor’s hand and placed it against Nora’s abdomen. There was so much blood. “Don’t let up. You called the ambulance?”

  “No. I called the police. Nora told me to do that.”

  “Where’s your phone?”

  “I don’t know, Josh. I don’t know. I dropped it.” Over his shoulder, Stuart’s house erupted in flames, the fire gouged the interior of the house, blew out the plywood covers on the windows. The added oxygen helped feed the fire. He felt the heat on his back and didn’t think they were far enough away. “Where are you going?”

  “I have to call an ambulance.” Joshua ran toward the rolling black smoke. Trevor saw him disappear as if devoured by the black pillows.