by Jordan Jones
And, the wings were attached to the chain.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brimsburg Rehab Center was located just on the outskirts of town, covered in an ominous cloud of densely settled fog. It was only ten thirty in the morning, but Brooks felt like he was driving for more than a day. More than an hour and a half on the interstate, weaving in and out of traffic took it out of him.
The fog from Lincolnshire shifted north and covered most of Brimsburg, though that didn’t appear to stop people from getting out in the hustle and bustle.
Brooks noted it was odd to see fog settle so late in the morning, but then remembered he wasn’t always at the controls. Madison always had her say in how Brooks’ day went, so it was rather obvious to Brooks she had planted the fog, much like she did on Fairfield earlier in the day.
He was certain he was alone in the world while making his second trip through Isaac James’ house.
He was alone in the world.
The sign above read:
Brimsburg Rehab Center - Visitors to the right
The directions were easy enough for Brooks. He had, after all, scored the highest on his thesis while in graduate school. The directions for that monster of a paper were much more difficult than those telling him where to find and kill his cousin.
He smiled at the irony.
He found a cozy parking spot nuzzled between two four-wheel-drive pickup trucks and stepped out. There were no cameras on the poles outside, and the activity around the building was sparse. A maintenance man was running wire from one side to another, and a young father and daughter were leaving through the front door.
What now? Brooks’ mind raced. He couldn’t be standing still for long or someone might think his presence was suspicious.
Brooks gave the father and daughter an awkward smile as they walked by, exchanging pleasantries with the elder.
He couldn’t just walk in and ask to visit Angela and kill her.
He relied mostly on his greatest asset: patience.
He walked through the front doors and kept his hat low, obscuring anyone from seeing his eye color.
The wall behind the front desk clerk read like a menu, describing each group’s activities for the day. They were marked A, B, C, and D, though without context, they might as well have been in a different language.
“May I help you, sir?” The young man at the desk appeared bored and lethargic in his movements, but his voice was surprisingly spritely.
“Are you taking applications?” Brooks asked, without hesitation.
“Our job board is posted online,” said the man. “We have an online kiosk over there if you want. If you need help with anything let me know.”
Brooks knew better than to leave any evidence…let alone a completed job application.
He sat down and typed out the name Tommy Roisman into the system. He allowed his lip to curl upwards as he did.
The different positions varied from kitchen helper, to inpatient therapist, to a psychiatrist. He wanted to seem as inconspicuous as possible, so he picked custodian and put in a fake phone number.
A woman in a plaid skirt walked behind Brooks and stopped at the desk and spoke with the man.
“Group B is about done with yoga,” she told the man. “Call up and make sure group C is ready to go with their mats.”
“That’s…”
“Third floor,” she answered. “All the mandated girls stay on the third floor. The one’s with POs…recently released. That sort of thing.”
“Ah,” he said. “I’ll need to remember that.” He picked up the phone and dialed a number as the woman walked away.
Brooks finished the application and pressed ‘submit.’
“All done?” The man said.
“Yes, sir. That wasn’t too bad.”
“Not at all.”
Brooks took a step towards the door, but then stopped. “The recreation area here…is it outside? Or, do you have a gym or something?”
“Well, with it being so cold, they’re inside today. Why? Do you know someone here? Want me to see if they’re available for a visit?”
Brooks shook his head. “No thanks. I’m just getting a lay of the land for when I’m employed.” He gave the man a creepy wink and saw himself out.
The brisk wind slapped Brooks in the face, and he wrapped his scarf tighter around his cheeks. He turned right and walked the entire way in front of the building, until he came to the other side. The large glass dome was separated from the outside world by huge windows.
It wasn’t unlike Brooks’ greenhouse at Fasten Biofuels, though this had aimless people inside instead of thriving plants. Group C put down their mats and listened intently to the instructor as she shouted commands and played music on a CD.
Brooks couldn’t hear what was being said, but could feel the vibrations through the glass. He could make out Angela’s face as she struggled during the standing chair pose.
She struggled her entire life to find who she was, but she was never able to find it.
Brooks had arrived to give her purpose. The struggle would be over soon.
A woman wearing a neon green tank top caught Brooks by the corner of her eye and she let out a scream and fell over.
The rest of the women followed her gaze to Brooks and he was unmoved. The instructor turned off the music and attempted to gather all the women through the door leading into the main building, but Angela stopped to see.
Their eyes met and hers dawned a heavy confusion. Her head cocked to the side as if she saw a ghost, and squinted. Brooks peeled off his scarf and revealed his face to her, giving her the validation she needed.
“What are you doing here?” she lipped through the glass, walking closer to Brooks. The other women all ran inside the door, shutting it behind them. They were out of sight now, and apparently didn’t see the one straggler left behind.
“I’m here for you,” he lipped back to her.
She turned and pushed the glass door leading to outside. No alarm sounded although the door’s sign described as much.
“Brooks, what are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to better understand you.”
She wrapped her arms around her. The cold air returned more forceful than before. The fog had completely dissipated, so Brooks knew he had to act fast.
“I’m fine here, Brooks. Please. I’m fine. If you want to visit and talk about what happened, I’m fine with that, but you can’t show up like this. Now they’re going to shakedown all my stuff and strip-search me.”
“I just need to know one thing, that’s all,” he said. His eyes were dark and soulless. There was nothing behind them.
“What? What is it that cannot wait until visiting hours?”
Brooks looked down at Angela’s arm and back up to her eyes. “What exactly do you want said at your eulogy?”
***
An Aerosmith song came on the radio as Brooks dug into a bag of Fritos. He was cruising at a respectable sixty-eight on the interstate back towards Lincolnshire, and the traffic was much lighter.
In fact, the traffic didn’t stand a chance. It was such a non-factor.
The bloodied knife sat in its sheath under his passenger seat, but he could smell the blood. It was a comforting reminder that he was still in control. Madison made the way, but Brooks did the deed. He was not only fine with it, but he preferred it.
No one had seen him do it, which was key. It also wasn’t his most foolproof work, either, as many impulsive, non-plan-having situations often weren’t.
The picture of Madison was attached to his dashboard, her smile as infectious as it was disheartened.
Brooks turned down the radio and folded up the Fritos before licking his fingers crumb-free. He adjusted the rearview mirror and saw Madison’s reflection giving him an approving grin.
“Hey, Kiddo,” Brooks told her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kay Maise didn’t answer when I knocked later that night. My curiosity stru
ck me hard as I descended her front porch steps and returned to the Charger. It was a newer model than what I drove before, because they tore the other apart in search for clues.
I placed my hand on the key inside the ignition and leaned back against my seat. A stress-induced sigh left my lips as I reclined the seat back. The rearview mirror was on the floorboard of the backseat.
I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing those eyes again.
In the back seat.
Peering through me.
It pained me to think a part of me was left in that parking garage as his knife pierced through me. The nightmares were frequent and violent.
The hyper-vigilance kept my nerves on edge day and night. The mirror on the floorboard only acted as a metaphorical manifestation of fear.
Fear wasn’t always bad…but it was.
It had kept me from being me, and The Sparrow owned me. The psychosomatic symptoms I experienced were so fear driven and debilitating that I was unable to move at times.
My thought patterns seemed out of whack, even when I was certain I was thinking most clearly.
My eyes clinched shut and I placed my fedora on the dash.
“Are we going to wait here for her?” Abraham asked from the passenger seat. He had undeniably seen the glue from the windshield, which once held the mirror in place, but didn’t say anything about it.
His curiosity panned over his face, but not a word was spoken about it.
“I guess so,” I responded. “It’s only five-thirty or so. She might be working or staying at her sisters like she was right after — “
“Yeah, I know.” Abraham turned up the scanner and listened as a patrol officer made a traffic stop for a possible DUI. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, man. What’s the deal with this Maise girl anyway? She’s gone. The case needs to end. We have The Sparrow now.”
I planned to make the big reveal to Abraham while talking with Kay, but I pulled out The Sparrow’s file. “This picture right here.”
“Is that the Maise girl’s necklace? That’s the same one, isn’t it?”
I nodded as I pulled out the Maise file to compare.
“How did you know? Did you find this weeks ago and not tell me about it?”
“No, not at all. Harlow told me about how he sat in my car for hours before I got out there. I saw it on the trunk and blew it up.”
“This is creepy, dude,” Abraham said, eyes widened. “How does this Sparrow guy know about this Maise girl, anyway?”
“Could be a relative,” I answered. “I know the dad went to prison for soliciting a minor. The Sparrow seems to be targeting these types of guys. Maybe it’s someone close to Philip Maise?”
“I don’t know man,” Abraham said, chomping into a stick of beef jerky. “How did he get that necklace, anyway?”
“That’s what we’re here for.”
Silence overcame the car from both inside and out, though the wind intermittently interrupted the solace of the moment. Rain started to fall, followed by the unrelenting pelts of sleet, splashing indiscriminately at the windshield.
The wipers were swiping and unfazed at the sleet, knocking it all to the ground. The minutes turned to hours, until a blue minivan pulled into the driveway of the mobile home.
The memorial at the end of the driveway was all but forgotten; leaving trace amounts of sticks shaped into crosses, and rocks with words etched into them.
Kay stepped out of the car with a few bags, and made her way up the stairs.
“Mrs. Maise, John Trotter of Lincolnshire PD. This is my partner, Deangelo Abraham. If you don’t mind, we’d like to come in and talk.”
She wasn’t shocked or surprised to see us, but wasn’t overly welcoming. She invited us inside without saying as much and headed straight for the kitchen.
The trailer looked worse for wear. It wasn’t taken care of like it was the first time we were there.
“Can I get you two fellas something to drink?”
“No thanks. Mrs. Maise, we have some serious questions to ask you.”
She sat down, still no worry on her face. “I’m listening.”
“Have you noticed anything missing from around the house?”
She shrugged. “I’ve been spending a lot of time at Ol’ Yellers on Third and Carmine. I get drunk and head home. I’m sure I lose all kinds of things.” She said clearly unfazed at confessing that she breaks the law every night to two officers.
I cleared my throat and continued. “I’m talking about things…sentimental things.”
Her eyes shot back at me. “You mean things my dead daughter had on her when she died? Is that what you mean? You mean the necklace my daughter, who is now dead, has in her pocket as she lie at the bottom of Covey Bridge? Please tell me if that’s what you mean, Detective, because, if not, you’ll have to be more clear about what you’re asking.”
I straightened myself up. “Mrs. Maise, I’m sorry if — “
“No you’re not,” she said with a scowl. She had officially passed the denial phase. “You all came through here and took everything I had of Madison’s. You crinkled up her drawings. You took her notebook, her necklace, and her all of her drawings. You give them back to me, only to just take them back again whenever I’m not around? You’re lucky I don’t get your captain on the phone…or better yet, the media!”
My brows narrowed. Deangelo leaned forward.
“Wait, what?” he said.
“You heard me!”
“I assure you, Ma’am, no one from the precinct came and took your stuff while you weren’t here. That’s not how we operate. We got everything we needed the first time around.”
“Explain how else these things were taken then?” Her tone lightened up a bit.
I pulled out The Sparrow file and took out the picture in the parking garage. “See this right here? Tell me what you see.”
“That’s Madison’s necklace,” she said, leaning back. “It has the butterfly and jewels. How did you find that? Where was it?”
Mrs. Maise, I’m sorry to do this to you, but I think your house is the location of a serious crime. There is a serial killer loose in Lincolnshire and I think it has something to do with your daughter.”
“The Sparrow?” she asked, finally shocked and surprised.
“Yes, you hear about him from the media?” I asked. Abraham called dispatch and requested forensics.
“Yes, I did. That’s the same necklace I got Madison. I can tell by how long the chain is. Madison didn’t want it to show, so she asked for me to get the longest chain they had. She wanted to be the only one who knew what was on it. She was strange like that; always wanting to know something that no one else does…or did.”
I studied the picture and saw how abnormally long the chain was for such a small pendant. The girl had secrets, but this one was right out in the open. The Sparrow knew Madison was secretive. He toyed with the idea of placing the necklace on the trunk of the car. He enjoyed it.
“Forensics and LT Anderson are on their way,” Abraham said. “They’re bringing spot lights and everything.”
“You said the notebook is gone? Her drawings are gone?” I asked.
“Yes,” Kay answered. “I thought your team came back for them. Well, they didn’t take the paints the first time, but I thought they did the second time.”
“We have to step outside,” Abraham said. “This is technically a crime scene with one of the most wanted people in America right now.”
Forensics pulled in as we were walking down the stairs. Benjamin was the first out of the van.
“What have we got?” He asked.
“Possible Sparrow droppings inside,” Abraham said. “That place could have some evidence. DNA…something.”
Benjamin waved in his team as Captain, along with a few squad cars, pulled in.
“All right, fellas,” LT Anderson said. “I was just about to enjoy a bubble bath before my phone buzzed.”
“Sir,” I started. “This is the Mai
se residence. I think The Sparrow was here. I think he took items from Madison’s bedroom and he’s using them to taunt us…I mean me.” I showed him the file with the pictures of matching necklaces, and after he shot back with a snide remark about the availability of cheap necklaces at the local malls, I mentioned the long chain. “Mrs. Maise said it was custom.”
LT Anderson studied it and let out a grouchy sigh. “If it is the same necklace, I’m not sure what to make of it.”
“That’s why we have to tear this place apart, LT,” Abraham said.
I shot Abraham a disapproving look. “I’m hoping to find something in there that connects The Sparrow to the Maise case.”
“Hair!” screamed Benjamin from inside. “We have a hair!”
We rushed through the front doors and down the hall to where Benjamin was. The bathroom was cramped, with shag carpet on the floor and wood paneling on the walls. The floor creaked as we all walked in.
Benjamin was kneeling under the sink and held up a tiny plastic baggie with short strands of hair inside. “This was inside the drain down here. This Maise lady is single, right? She doesn’t have facial hair, I can suppose?”
I shook my head and peered closely at the hair. They were short, but thick. They looked like something that came off a man’s face. They were too coarse to be from any other part of the body.
The mirror from above the sink was smudged with unknown substances. I looked at my reflection and wondered if The Sparrow did the same not long ago.
“I’m running this in the lab,” Benjamin said. “Maybe we’ll get a match somewhere.”
Abraham turned to me after we left the bathroom. “Are we sure Kay hasn’t had other guys over here? She said her and her husband were through, right? She’s not letting him come back?”
“I’m not sure,” I responded. “I’d hate to upset her, tearing her house apart again, but it’s something we have to know.”
“Detectives!” Shouted a uniformed officer from Madison’s bedroom. “We found a box in the ceiling panels.”
“Let me take a look,” I said, placing on some latex gloves. The box was wooden and had the initials M.E.M. Inscribed on the top.