by C. M. Sutter
“Shall we begin looking for blood evidence?” Kyle asked.
Jack stood and fished his cell phone out of his pocket. “Yeah, go ahead. Do the bathroom, kitchen, and foyer first. They’re the only rooms that aren’t carpeted.” He turned his focus to Tom as Kyle and Dan took their cases and disappeared down the hallway. “Tom, you’ve worked in law enforcement for years. Do you remember any criminal cases that involved Leslie McDonald, Stan Kingsley, and Tyler Rauch as witnesses?”
Tom scratched his cheek. “To be honest, Jack, I wasn’t in charge until 2011. If it was a county case where the city boys weren’t involved, we didn’t pay that much attention. Our daily activities took up most of our time.”
“Yeah, just thought I’d ask.”
“Tell you what. I’ll text Rose right now and ask her to drop that list off at the sheriff’s office today, maybe even during her lunch hour if she can.”
“Appreciate it, Tom.”
Kyle yelled out. “Boss, you have to see this!”
Jack pushed back his chair. “I think my day is about to take a shit.”
Chapter 45
Judge Amato scrambled to his feet. The shock and fear on his face said it all. Fight or flight was his only option, and he was too old and winded to fight someone thirty years younger and forty pounds heavier. With a quick jerk, Keith wrapped his fingers around the judge’s ankle and pulled. The judge fell again, and Keith jumped on his back. He grabbed the judge’s head, drew it back, then smashed his face against the pavement. The judge fell silent.
Good, now to get you in the trunk.
Keith dug in his pocket for the key fob and pulled it out. He popped the trunk then bent his knees and scooped up the old man. He had to hurry. A car could come by at any time. To Keith’s good fortune, the judge was old and a runner. Both were qualities that likely kept him under one hundred fifty pounds. Keith walked at a quickened pace to the trunk. He dipped his shoulder under the lid and lifted it high enough to drop the judge inside. A car rounded the bend as he lowered the lid.
The elderly man in the white Cadillac slowed to a stop alongside the Lexus. “Need help, young man?”
Keith slapped his hands together as if to wipe off the dirt. “Nope, I’m good, but thanks for asking.” He tipped his head toward the back passenger-side tire. The man couldn’t tell from Keith’s position that the tire hadn’t been touched. “Damn tire went flat on me. Guess I had a slow leak that I hadn’t noticed earlier.” Keith opened the driver’s door and climbed in. He needed to end the conversation before the judge regained consciousness. He waved a thank-you to the man in the Cadillac and shifted into Drive. It would take fifteen minutes to get home from there. “Son of a bitch!” Keith pounded his fist on the dash. “I didn’t check his pockets for a phone.” Once more, he slammed the shifter into Park. He jumped out, peered down the road to make sure the Cadillac was gone, and pressed his ear against the trunk lid. It was quiet inside. He pulled the trunk latch and lifted the lid. A foot hit him square in the stomach, nearly knocking the breath out of him.
He doubled over and grunted. The surprise infuriated him. “You’re lucky I have other plans for you, old man, or I’d kill you right now. I don’t have time for your shit.” Keith cocked his fist and hit the judge in the temple. Blood turned his white hair pink, and the man went still. Keith patted the judge’s pockets for a phone. He felt something solid beneath the windbreaker and ripped the zipper open. Inside the sweatshirt pocket, he found the judge’s cell phone. “Uh-huh, just like I thought.” He jammed it in his jeans jacket pocket and was about to slam the lid. “Where the hell is your stocking cap?” He searched the trunk and found nothing under or around the judge. “Damn it.” He slammed the lid, climbed back into the driver’s seat, and shifted into Drive. Forty feet ahead, he saw the black stocking cap on the side of the road. “I swear you’re going to pay for this, old man. You’re a pain in my ass, but you’re damn lucky I found that cap.” He climbed out once more, grabbed the cap, and tossed it on the passenger seat. Keith sped away with big plans for the judge.
Chapter 46
Jack and Tom raced down the hall and turned right at the darkened bathroom.
“What in the name of—”
Kyle nodded. “My exact thoughts, Chief Sanders.”
The room illuminated like a nineteen eighties discotheque. The tiled bathtub surround as well as the drain, shower head, and faucets lit up a fluorescent blue. The men could only imagine the violence that must have played out in that room. The blood bath continued beyond the tub and spilled out to the floor. Even the grout lines showed proof that the evidence of blood in that room was overwhelming. The chance of anyone living through an attack like that was impossible.
Jack groaned his anxiety. “I can’t even imagine what must have taken place in this bathroom. There’s just too much evidence of blood. How could it not have transferred down the hallway and through the rest of the house?”
Dan jerked his head toward the tub. “There’s a curtain rod but no curtain. The perp probably wrapped Stan in it. Maybe he brought along a tarp too.”
“Doubtful if he climbed in through the window. It would be too awkward and clumsy to carry around in the rain.”
“What would cause that much bleeding?” Tom asked.
Kyle shook his head. “Any number of things. The guy could have severed Stan’s arteries. The blood pumps out with every heartbeat until the heart stops. That would create quite a mess.”
Jack pointed at the floor. “You can see swirls where he wiped it up. He must have rinsed the rag out in the toilet or tub drain.”
“I’d agree,” Dan said, “since the tub drain lights up like a Christmas tree. Plenty of blood went down there. We can pull out the tub stopper and see if anything got lodged on it.”
“Yeah, go ahead and do that too. I need to call Jan and see if Stan’s employment file is still in the records room. His blood type would be listed if we still have it.”
Tom smirked. “If only that was the killer’s blood instead, but I highly doubt it.”
Jack and Tom left the bathroom and returned to the kitchen, giving Dan and Kyle more space to work. They each pulled out a chair and plopped down as if exhausted.
Jack made the call to the sheriff’s office non-emergency number.
“Washburn County Sheriff’s Office.”
“Jan?”
“No, it’s Peggy, boss.”
“Sorry. Peggy, how long are employment files saved after a person quits?”
“Seven years, sir. I thought you asked that a few days ago.”
“Humph, I don’t remember anymore. So Stan Kingsley’s file would have been destroyed already?”
“Normally, yes, but I know you’re about to ask me to check, anyway. Am I correct?”
“Please?”
“Sure thing, boss. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”
Jack tapped End Call. “Doubt if we’re going to get lucky on that, but it was worth a shot.”
Tom stood and smacked the table. “I should go. I have a half dozen reports to write.” He tipped his head toward the door. “I’ll have Petty stick around until you’re done here.” Before he walked away, Tom’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He dipped in his hand and pulled it out. “A text came back from Rose. She said she’ll drop off the list of family members during her lunch break. Are you going to tell her about the evidence Forensics found?”
Jack stood and patted Tom’s back. “Not yet, buddy. Family comes first.”
“Understood.” He handed Jack the bagged house key. “I guess you should be in charge of this for now. Keep me posted, and if you need our help with anything, just call.” Tom gave Jack a nod and walked out.
Jack returned to the bathroom’s doorway. “Have you checked the drain stopper yet?”
Dan was on his knees and bent over the bathtub. “Pulling it out as we speak.”
Jack watched over Dan’s back as he twisted and maneuvered the trip lever out of the hole. W
hen he finally got it disconnected, Dan lifted it over the tub. “Jesus. Good thing I like my job.”
“What the hell?” Jack leaned in to get a closer look. “Is that human skin?”
“Sure as shit. Hair and all.” Dan handed the lever to Kyle, who had an evidence bag open and waiting. “I’d venture to say that came off an arm or leg.”
Kyle turned to Jack. “You’re looking a little green around the gills, boss.”
Jack took a seat on the closed toilet lid and held his head between his hands. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Kyle smirked. “Probably, and that would explain the volume of blood evidence.”
Jack looked up. “Then where did the body parts go, and how were they removed without one single neighbor seeing anything unusual?”
“I have a theory,” Dan said.
“Shoot.”
“We saw muddy shoe prints in Stan’s car, which told us the perp probably drove it, correct?”
Jack nodded.
“Then we did a visual search of the vehicle, but we didn’t check it with Blue Star. We need to spray the trunk right now. If we find blood evidence, we’ll have our answer about how Stan’s body parts were taken out of the house.”
“You’re using Blue Star now instead of luminol?”
“Yeah, it luminesces longer and gives us plenty of time to photograph the evidence.”
Jack let out a long puff of air. “And I thought this was going to be a nonproductive day.”
Chapter 47
Keith blew on the hot coffee while staring at the judge. He lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip. The old man, with his head down and chin resting against his chest, was still unconscious.
“Enough of this shit. I want to get down to business.” Keith rose and opened the door to the laundry room. The shelf above the washer and dryer contained every type of cleaning and laundry product known to man. Most of it had been there for years. The only items Keith used were detergent and dryer sheets. “Let’s see what’s actually among this crap.” Keith unfolded the step stool and pulled it over to the washer. He climbed to the second step, where he was eye level with the products on the shelf. He moved each bottle and box to the right as he searched through them. “Ha! This is exactly what I need.” He grabbed the bottle, set it on the washer, and climbed down.
Damn, I know I’ve never had a reason to buy this. It must have been sitting up there since Ma was around.
Keith unscrewed the lid and took a whiff. He shook his head and backed away. “Shit…that’s still potent after all these years.”
Keith returned to the kitchen to finish his coffee and placed the bottle on the floor. He continued to watch the old man and enjoyed his brew. The judge’s temple and nose were covered in dried blood, and the right side of his hair had crusted over with a red tinge. Road rash dotted his forehead. Keith swallowed the final inch of coffee and stood. He lifted the bottle and crossed the kitchen to the living room, where the judge’s wrists and ankles were duct taped to a sturdy chair. The judge’s midsection was bound to the chair back with rope wound several times around his body and knotted at the back. The old man wasn’t going anywhere.
Keith set the bottle on the coffee table then pulled the ottoman to within a few feet of the old man. He twisted the lid and held the bottle under the judge’s nose.
“Come on. Take a deep breath. Fill your lungs with that poison, Dominic.”
The judge began to move. He jerked his head back and coughed violently.
Keith held the bottle closer. “Here, have a little more. You need to be wide awake.”
“Stop, stop, I can’t breathe.” The judge shook his head and gasped, taking in another deep breath of the toxic gas.
“That’s better. I think I have your attention now.” Keith screwed the cap back on the bottle of ammonia and returned it to the coffee table.
The judge’s eyes bulged as tears stung his wounded face. He turned his head to the side to escape the odor. His head bobbled as he looked around. The judge was still groggy and coughing. “Where am I, and who are you?” He tried to stand but couldn’t. He quickly realized the predicament he was in when he looked down. Duct tape secured his hands and feet to the chair, and rope bound his chest. He pulled against his restraints but got nowhere. “What in God’s name is going on? Is this some kind of sick prank?”
Keith roared with laughter, and his eyes twinkled with delight. “How does it feel, old man?”
“It feels like hell. Let me go immediately and I won’t tell a soul.”
Keith slapped the judge across the face and bloodied the man’s lower lip. “You have no idea what hell feels like yet. You still think you’re calling the shots, don’t you? I thought you retired years ago.”
“What do you want? Who are you, and why are you targeting me? If this is about money, I have plenty. Just let me call my wife. She can arrange everything.”
“Shut up! If I want money, I’ll get it from your wife myself. I don’t need you to do it for me. Look how easy it was for me to knock you to the ground and subdue you. You don’t think I could do the same to your wife with one hand tied behind my back? Thanks for the idea, though. I might pay her a visit after all, just not yet.”
The judge began to sob. “Please, I’m an old man and will likely die in ten years, anyway. What do you want with me? What have I done to deserve this?”
“You were the judge in my brother’s murder trial. You sentenced him to prison, where he hung himself a few days ago. He was mentally challenged and should have gone to a sanitarium, but no, he was sentenced to life without parole in one of the worst prisons in the United States. I was his legal guardian and watched over him. I was paid a handsome monthly allowance to do it too, but now he’s dead. It’s your fault for putting him in that hellhole. He killed himself because of you and your decision. Now I’m going to be the judge and jury. I’m going to sentence you to death just like you did to my brother.”
“I don’t even know who you mean. When did this happen?” Judge Amato struggled against the tape and rocked the chair back and forth. “Let me go!”
Keith ignored the man’s pleas. “His name was Kevin Hadley, and he murdered our parents in 2007.”
“Then he deserved to go to prison. That’s how the judicial system works.”
“He said he didn’t remember doing it. I told you he was mentally challenged.” Keith slapped the man again. “Pay attention when I talk. He should have gone to a different facility, where he would have remained safe for the rest of his life, not Holman Prison, of all places. They don’t call that place slaughterhouse for nothing. Nobody watches over the inmates. They either kill themselves out of depression or kill each other.”
“And you wanted that money to continue coming in forever, and now it’s ended. You can’t sue the prison because your brother killed himself. Your money train has gone off the tracks. I’m right, aren’t I? This is about you, not your brother.”
Keith smiled at the judge and stood. He paced back and forth across the rug on the hardwood floor. “I will admit you’re a smart man, and it’s a shame nobody will ever learn of the conversation we had today. Yes, what I thought was a guaranteed three thousand bucks a month has come to a screeching halt. I’m not too pleased about that, either. Somebody has to pay for my life interruption, and you, my friend, will be victim number four. Let’s just say I’m avenging my brother’s unnecessary death and my loss of income.”
Dominic rocked the chair until it tipped over.
“What the hell are you doing? You could hurt yourself.” Keith laughed at his own demented humor then grabbed the arms of the chair and righted it. “Here’s the way our day will go. Are you paying attention?”
“Yes.”
“You can accept whatever manner of death I pick for you, and as the judge, my word is final. Or, as the jury, I’ll let you decide from three choices I’ll give you. No matter what, you’re definitely going to die today. Now, do you have a final reque
st?”
The judge mumbled under his breath.
Keith folded his arms across his chest and stared. “I can’t hear you. Speak up.”
“My throat hurts. I can’t talk any louder. Come closer if you want to hear me.”
Keith obliged and took a seat on the ottoman. He scooted it closer until their knees almost touched. “Now what did you say, old man?”
The judge shot his head forward and spat in Keith’s face. “My final request is that you rot in hell next to your brother.”
Keith wiped his face with the back of his hand. “That was a big mistake, Dominic.” Keith stood and left the room. He yelled back over his shoulder before he walked out of the house. “I’m sure I can find something in the garage that can be used as a judge’s gavel. Say your prayers, old man. Your death sentence will be executed soon.”
Chapter 48
Jack entered the garage with Kyle and Dan. He raised the overhead to bring more natural light into the area then popped the trunk. “Go ahead, guys. Let’s see if your theory is right.”
The three men peered into the open trunk.
“I don’t see a damn thing,” Jack said.
“Well, here goes.” Dan gave the bottle a good shake and began spraying. When the entire trunk was moistened, he gave Kyle a nod. “Go ahead and cut the lights.”
Kyle lowered the overhead and turned off the garage light. The trunk illuminated with quarter-sized smears of blue.
Jack whistled. “I’ll be damned. There aren’t pools of blood like in the bathroom, so how do the two areas go together?”
“Seepage,” Kyle said. “I hate to sound graphic, but the only explanation would be that the perp carried Stan out to the trunk, piece by piece, in garbage bags. The likelihood of small amounts of blood seeping out of the seams is high.”