Blood, a Bullet, and a True Sinner

by Kelly Shade

  “Yes, we did . . . I didn’t want to believe Jonathan abducted her, but Tim knew . . .” Vanessa didn’t remove her hands from her eyes.

  “Why didn’t you believe? You know him. You got married because you were pregnant after a couple of nights together. The reason wasn’t love!” Jane stood by the armrest with her arms crossed on her chest.

  “How do you know that?” Vanessa showed her eyes.

  “It was obvious; our body language reveals more than our words, Vanessa.”

  Jane went to Jonathan and took his walking stick. “We should send that to the lab; there are traces of Tim’s carpet. I noticed it was ripped and, at first, I thought it was from a high-heeled shoe, but when I saw this, it made more sense. I’m sure we will find his home lab on his mother’s land. And for a guy who doesn’t go out, why are the wheels of your car muddy? Don’t answer that . . .” Jane looked straight into Jonathan Wesley’s eyes and said arrogantly. “Tell me, do you feel completed now? You killed your own brother on the same date, that he was begging you for help ten years. Do you feel bigger than him now? You took his wife and daughter out of revenge. Because of some silly flirt in high school. You know, it wasn’t your brother’s fault your high school girlfriend was a bitch.” Jane wanted to provoke him.

  “She wasn’t a bitch! He tricked her! Now we are even. He stole my only love . . . he deserved to suffer. I told him what I did with his precious wife and silly daughter . . . and he felt the same pain I did when I saw him banging my girlfriend behind the school. He laughed at me . . . who’s laughing now . . .” Jonathan started giggling.

  “We can take that as a confession!” Gray said and let Tamara lie on the couch so he could stand up. “Lee, Valdez, take . . .”

  “How did you know?” interrupted Jonathan Wesley. He just realized what he had said and was shaking and trying to get away from Ian’s hold but with no success.

  “I know how your mind works. You are a control freak with low self-esteem, egomaniac, and sadist. You envied your brother since you were kids. When your mother and father had the big talk about how brothers should help each other, you were making your grand plan for revenge. You stopped fighting with Tim because you were waiting for the right time,” Jane answered with disgust.

  “He was going to take them back . . . I couldn’t let him! They are mine!” Jonathan Wesley screamed while Ian cuffed him.

  “Take him out!” shouted Vanessa.

  “You heard the woman! Take him out!” Ryan turned to Nick and Ian.

  “I’ll call for a car,” said Nick and dragged Wesley out of the house.

  Jane and Ryan took a last glance at Tamara and Vanessa and followed their colleagues.

  “Wait!” Tamara shouted at them. They were startled.

  “What is it?” asked Ryan with surprise.

  “What about my mother? Did they find her?”

  “Well, I lied. There is no Officer Thompson, but we will go get her now, don’t worry,” Jane answered and turned her back.

  Blake and Gray left and went to the car in silence, and Ryan started the engine.

  “Can you put the address in the GPS, please?” he asked. Jane nodded.

  The half-hour ride was awkwardly quiet. At Wesley’s property there was a wire fence guarding a wholly ruined house, an overgrown garden and a small, muddy path. The place looked abandoned. It was off the main road, and the neighboring yards were also desolate.

  “A perfect place for keeping a hostage, huh?” Jane broke the silence.

  Ryan lifted his eyebrows and said. “I guess it is. Are you really sure Debbie is here?”

  “Let’s say I’m eighty percent sure,” Blake smiled and jumped over the fence with ease. Gray laughed and opened the door. He had to run after her so he wouldn’t lose sight of her. Jane was running around and knocking on the wooden planking that once was the floor of the house.

  “Here!” she said pointing. Ryan helped her lift the board, and they could see the staircase of the old basement. Jane reached her hand to turn on the flashlight she carried, and they both went down the stairs. This was obviously Jonathan’s chemical lab. There were luminescent lamps, tubes and odd-looking colored powders, working gloves and glasses.

  “I have no idea what these are, but I’m sure Mrs. Bradley will be fascinated.” Ryan was scratching his head and breathing in and out loudly.

  “Maybe Debbie is in the bunker.” Jane went out of the basement and looked around the land. “There.”

  “Why there?” asked Ryan, even though he was walking behind her.

  “This is the only place with lower grass, and there is straw stacked where, I expect, is the door,” Jane explained. “Help me with that,” she added, and Ryan started to move the straw. The bunker door was locked. Jane took a paper clip from her pocket and unlocked it quickly.

  “Nice skill,” Ryan said.

  Blake smiled.

  Ryan and Jane had to work together to open the door. A mixture of dirt and grease and something dubious metal, a smell that suggests being at least a little carcinogenic filled their nostrils. They put a hand over their mouth and nose and went on.

  They went down a tunnel toward another door, which was locked and Ryan kicked it open.

  “I could have opened it.” Jane said.

  “I have skills, too,” laughed Ryan.

  And a horrible view appeared before their eyes. A middle-aged woman was lying on a pile of straw and covered with a white sheet. White was the original color of the sheet; now it was covered in blood spots and mud. The woman, Debbie Wesley, squeezed her eyes tightly. She was breathing, but there was no sign of movement. She appeared to be paralyzed. Her hands and legs were scratched and bruised, her fingernails broken. Her white dress was dirty and ripped enough to see she wasn’t wearing underwear. Her long blond hair was sticky and thin, her body_like a skeleton.

  Ryan hurried to see if she could move. He took her head gently in his hand.

  “Mrs. Wesley, can you stand up?”

  No answer.

  “I’m Ryan Gray with LAPD. We arrested Jonathan. Please, speak to us!”

  Ryan looked shaken. Jane was standing still and observing.

  Debbie opened her eyes. They were empty, wandering.

  “Are you really the police?” her voice was throaty, quiet.

  “Yes, Madam! Please try to get up!” insisted Ryan.

  Debbie put her arm around his neck and stood up. Her body was shaking, but she took a few steps. Jane didn’t look shocked.

  “I’m Jane Blake, Ryan’s colleague in LAPD. How long have you been here?”

  “I-I . . .“

  “What’s the last day you can remember?”

  “It was . . . oh, my God, it was Tami’s birthday!” tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “When is that, Debbie?” Jane asked with a soft voice.

  “The twelfth of May.”

  “That’s a year ago,” muttered Jane.

  “Jane, she needs medical help!” Ryan looked very worried. He was almost carrying the woman.

  Jane didn’t move. She was staring at the empty shelves and the metal cask next to them.

  “Was he . . .”

  “Blake, can you speed things up!” Ryan interrupted her, but she continued staring at the cask ignoring that the woman was crying and shivering.

  “Jane, call 911!” Ryan Gray shouted. Debbie collapsed.

  For the first time that day, Jane showed emotion. She dialed 911 as fast as she could; told the operator the address; hung up and went to help Ryan carry Debbie to the entrance. When they reached the car, Jane carefully put her head on the seat and looked up at Ryan.

  “I’ll send a team to search the house, so we can put this man in prison for good. Good work Jane!” Ryan was breathless and sweaty.

  “She is just exhausted. The ambulance is on its way now.” Jane was trying to calm him. Gray nodded, but he was still tapping his leg nervously.

  When the ambulance arrived, paramedics hurried to put Debbie on t
he stretcher. They made a fast check and told Jane and Ryan that her vitals were good, but she was dehydrated and in shock.

  “Of course, she would need hospital care but considering what happened to her, she is okay,” added one of the paramedics before they drove off to the nearest hospital.

  Ryan looked better after this news, but he still appeared exhausted. Jane put her hand on his shoulder and spoke quietly. “Ryan, you are too empathetic. This job is going to ruin you if you don’t control your emotions.”

  “Do you have cigarettes?” he ignored her statement.

  “Yeah, do you smoke?” Jane was surprised.

  “That is the kind of an occasion when I’m smoking. So?”

  Jane grimaced but took two cigarettes and the Zippo lighter from her pocket. They got in the Navigator and headed to the station. During the ride, they called Debbie’s family and informed Hunt what had happened and he said he would send a team right away.

  “Great job, guys!” Nick, Ian, and Hunt welcomed them.

  “Closed case tequila?” added Nick.

  “I’m starving. Let’s order something to eat and then tequila,” offered Jane.

  “I like that idea more,” smiled Ryan.

  “I’m going to pass. Good night! Well done, Jane, welcome to the team!” Hunt almost sounded like a normal human being.

  Jane nodded and waved goodbye.

  They agreed on Chinese food. Jane was complaining about how uncomfortable the chairs were when she was interrupted by Tamara and Vanessa.

  “We hoped you would be here. Debbie is okay, shocked but alive and talking. We wanted to thank you and your team. You saved our family, well at least what’s left of it!”

  “Thank you! Thank you for bringing my mom back! It doesn’t matter how old a girl is, she always needs her mom. Right?” said Tamara and hugged Jane.

  “Yeah, right!” Jane made a sad smile and walked them to the elevator.

  The delivery guy was there, so Jane went back to the office with food. Everyone was happy and started digging in right away.

  Chapter 5

  Beauty, beauty . . .

  It had been over a month since Jane Blake was assigned as a consultant in the homicide division of LAPD. Her team had a few easy cases during that time. A jealous wife killed her husband’s lover; one boy murdered his best friend in a fight for drugs; a man tried to steal a car, but the owner was in it and there were a few ridiculous killings over nothing but money.

  Jane and the team were getting along very well. Nick Lee forgave her for the nasty comments and apologized for his. Connor Hunt started to trust her a bit more but still didn’t like her way of working. Ian Valdez was almost as grumpy as Hunt. Jane was enjoying all the jokes from Ryan and Nick. They were a dynamic duo when it came to annoying Hunt. The chief, Mrs. Abigail Wilson, was pleased about the high rate of closed cases and the excellent feedback in the press. Mrs. Wilson personally permitted Jane to choose new office chairs, and the bureau was paying.

  Well, Jane bought hers because the cost didn’t fit the budget. It seemed like Blake finally found her place. Mysteries and puzzles were exactly what she enjoyed.

  At first, Jane didn’t go to the station every day, but after two weeks the chief wanted her there every day. Because of Blake, the cases were cracked in no time, so Mrs. Wilson decided it was best to have her around regularly. There was another reason. Chief Wilson was surrounded by men, and the only woman was Mrs. Bradley, the coroner, so it was great to have another woman on the team. At least that was what she said. Unfortunately for her, Jane wasn’t the girliest girl in the world. Blake preferred dealing with men, and she avoided conversations with Mrs. Wilson. Jane liked the coroner. Bradley was a short. middle-aged, chubby woman with curly dark hair, big brown eyes and a fantastic sense of humor. Despite her profession, she was always smiling.

  Jane went to the office and made coffee every morning. She was early this particular day and was first on the team to arrive. She sat on the comfortable new office chair, which looked more like an arm chair; she put her legs on the desk and stared at the sky behind the enormous windows. August mornings were beautiful. Jane was thinking this was her first birthday surrounded by people she actually liked. Well, she didn’t mention that it was four days earlier, and nobody seemed to remember her file, but she definitely enjoyed catching a killer red-handed with evidence in his hand. She sneaked a smile.

  “Morning!” the cheerful voice of Nick Lee interrupted her daydreaming.

  “Hey!”

  “Where are the others?” Nick looked at the empty chairs. “Even Hunt is not here?” he said after peeking in Hunt’s office.

  “Don’t know.” Jane stared at the sky again.

  In the next few minutes Connor Hunt, Ryan Gray and Ian Valdez came one after another. Ian said he proposed to his girlfriend, she said yes, and they stayed up late. Hunt said he was the boss, and he could be late from time to time. Ryan overslept.

  “Good thing nobody got killed so early,” Jane grinned.

  All of them made strange faces and went to get coffee. They returned after few minutes, and the office looked like a coffee shop. Ian was reading a newspaper. Nick was loudly chewing an apple. Ryan was sitting on Jane’s desk trying to make conversation. Hunt, as a boss, locked himself in his office so he wouldn’t be bothered by all the chewing, slurping and muttering.

  The phone rang, and everyone stopped what they were doing. With a smile on her face, Jane said, “Come on, pick up! There’s been a murder!”

  “You’re enjoying this way too much, Blake!” Ian said before picking up the phone and saying, “LAPD agent Valdez speaking!” He got a gloomy expression on his face and wrote something on sticky note. Everyone was looking at him, so he spoke. “Yeah, a murder. The local officer was terrified. I’m driving.”

  Ryan and Jane glanced at each other and went after him.

  Ian was driving fast. In no time they were in Westwood in front of the small, white house with a garage on the side. A lovely path led to the front door. A weeping man was surrounded by two local police officers.

  “LAPD, I’m Ian Valdez,” said Ian and showed his badge. He introduced the team and asked what happened and who was the man sitting up front.

  “This is Mr. Bray. He found his wife this morning,” said the officer and stepped aside.

  “We need to ask you a few questions, sir. Can you calm yourself and come inside with us?” Nick invited him to join them.

  “No!” the man shouted and stood up.

  “Mr. Bray, I want you to sit on the stairs and listen to my voice.” Jane took his hand gently and helped him sit down again. “Close your eyes, take a deep breath and count to ten. Then, I want you to exhale as slowly as you can.”

  Mr. Bray did that.

  “Good. Now again.”

  He did it.

  “I want you to do that until we come back, but every other time I want you to exhale a bit faster than the time before, okay?”

  “Yes.” Bray was still and his eyes were closed.

  “Okay, you are doing great. Stay here until we examine your house and the crime scene,” said Jane and placed his hand carefully on his leg.

  Blake looked up to see that Ryan was staring at her while Ian and Nick were already in with the local cops.

  “Did you hypnotize him?”

  “Yeah. It is easy,” Jane laughed.

  “What was that then? He listened to you. The locals tried to calm him for half an hour!” Ryan looked astonished.

  “It was just a calming exercise.”

  “Why did he listen to you?” insisted Ryan.

  “Because I was calm, my voice was quiet, and monotone and I made physical contact when I held his arm. Our brains work like that. When we want to hear, our system calms down as much as it can. It’s an instinct reaction. And when you make physical contact, the mind has two things to worry about. He had to focus so he got calmer. Got it?” Jane explained.

  “Oh,” exclaimed Ryan.

>   They went into the house where the victim was face down on the kitchen floor. The woman was in her late twenties with dark hair and pale eyes which were open. There were no signs of struggle, and the room was clean and tidy. Only one towel was lying on one of the armchairs in the living room.

  “Christine Bray, 28. As you can see, she was tied to this chair,” said a policemen. “We didn’t touch the body. We were waiting for you.”

  “Good, now let us do our job and wait outside,” said Ian sharply.

  Most of the time Hunt stayed at the station to deal with bureaucracy, so Ian was in charge of the team.

  The policeman wasn’t happy with the order but went without saying a word.

  Jane and Ryan kneeled next to the victim. There was blood on her shirt but no hole. Gray put on gloves and lifted her shirt. There was a tiny hole in her back. The killer wrote what seemed to be a poem on her back. With the precision of a surgeon and with the handwriting of an artist text was written on her skin with a knife. Ryan and Jane were stunned.

  “That’s the knife, I believe.” Jane pointed at the small vegetable knife lying next to the victim. Ryan nodded, and Jane continued. “She was obviously stabbed in the back, maybe through her heart.”

  “What makes you say that? Bradley isn’t here yet. I think she’ll tell us more,” said Nick.

  Jane answered, “Well, I think death was almost instantaneous after the stabbing. The killer knew human anatomy, or he was one lucky bastard. He stabbed her right in her heart with a thin, long blade. The writing is too precise; the room is untouched, so he knew what he was doing Maybe a planned murder or a professional killer. Ryan, do you see that on her hands?”

  “Yeah, it looks like he cut her veins. Oh, my God, it is from the elbows to the wrists . . . Definitely, a professional . . .” Ryan looked away for a moment.

  Jane stood up and took a few steps back so she could see the entire picture.