Burn in Hell_A Jake Carrington Mystery

by Marian Lanouette

“Yes. The more time he has to think, the more it’ll work against us,” Louie said.

  “Okay, I’m going to watch through the glass.” McGuire referred to the observation room behind the mirrors in the interview rooms.

  Jake tapped Louie on the shoulder. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s get it done.”

  The three of them watched Washington Jones though the glass. His movements were sporadic. Jake didn’t want him to appear out of control. Hoping food would help, he sent in burgers and coffee.

  Nothing helped. Washington didn’t want food, he wanted a fix.

  They walked in. Jake leaned against the wall; he stared at him, didn’t speak, letting Louie take the first round.

  “How’re you doing? Did you enjoy the food?” Louie asked.

  “I don’t need no damn food. I’m not good. I need a fix real bad. Can’t you give me something? I’m dying here,” he whined.

  Louie kept his face neutral. “I can help you after you answer a few questions, okay?”

  “Whatever, man, you name it. I need the fix,” he begged.

  Louie looked over at Jake, nodded. “We’ll be right back.”

  “Hey, what the fuck? Don’t leave me,” he screamed.

  Outside the room, Louie said, “Do you want to continue, Jake? The camera’s going to pick up on every jerky motion of his. The lawyers will have a field day on how we worked him.”

  “He’s coherent, Louie. We read him his rights, he stated he understood them. He didn’t request a lawyer. We’ll proceed as planned. I want to get his account with all the details on the record. We’ll request a doctor when we’re finished.”

  “It’s your call.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  They walked back into the room; this time Louie leaned against the wall. Jake stood, staring down at Washington. The silence filled the room. Washington broke.

  “What? I need something, please,” he begged.

  “The doctor’s on his way, Washington. In the meantime, I’m going to ask you a few questions. Your rights have been read to you, do you understand them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember what happened today?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah, the bitch wouldn’t shut up.”

  “What bitch, Washington?” Jake pushed.

  “Keisha,” he spit out.

  “How wouldn’t she shut up?”

  “She cried all day, all night, man. I couldn’t take the noise any longer. I had to shut her up.”

  “How’d you shut her up?” Jake handed Washington a cup of water.

  Pushing the cup aside, he answered. “I threw her against the wall.” In constant motion now, he couldn’t keep his hands, body, or head still.

  “Did that shut her up?” Jake’s stomach turned. It would be a miracle if his lunch stayed down.

  “No. She started whining.”

  “What happened next?” This would play well in court. Washington might be setting himself up for the death penalty.

  “She bled all over the damn rug…she ruined it. I shook her.”

  “Is that when she shut up?”

  “Yeah.” He started scratching; everywhere on his body he could reach. Out of the corner of his eye, Jake noticed the doctor at the door. The captain must have called him.

  “Washington, the doctor’s here. We’re going to take a break. The doctor needs to examine you.”

  Jake turned toward the door to let the doctor in; when the secretary knocked, he waved her in and she handed him a sheet of paper. Jake took it from her, nodded. She left the room.

  “Washington, please read your statement over carefully, then sign above your name,” Jake said, sitting down next to him.

  He grabbed the paper, scanned it, actually read it, signed his name, and handed the statement back to Jake with shaking hands. Jake made sure he’d signed in the right place. Surprised at how neatly Washington had signed his name.

  “Do I get my fix now?”

  “The doctor will determine what you get. He’ll need to know what you took today.” Jake stood, opening the door for the doctor. Jake walked out with Louie, leaving Washington with the doctor, along with a pair of uniforms. Heading back to the bullpen, Jake pulled up short. Louie walked right into him.

  “Hey, what the…”

  Jake ignored Louie and stared.

  If I Fail

  Chapter Two

  “What are you doing here, Chloe?” He couldn’t hide his aggravation, an edge to his voice.

  “Nice greeting. I called, you didn’t answer. So I came around to check on my sister’s case.”

  “Isn’t it a little late to be out?”

  “No. I just thought I’d stop in.”

  “I don’t answer my personal phone at crime scenes. You’ve been told countless times you need to call through the switchboard to check up on Shanna’s case.”

  “I thought we could talk. You don’t return any of my calls.”

  “You don’t want to do this now…”

  Louie interrupted. “Jake, why don’t you head over to the lab and grab the reports? I’ll talk to Ms. Wagner.”

  Jake looked around the squad room; he saw the other detectives with their heads down, giving the appearance of privacy. He knew better—they were listening to every word he exchanged with Chloe. Cops were the worst gossips in the world.

  “It’s okay, Louie. I’ll handle it.” Jake turned his attention back to Chloe.

  “Jake, we need the reports to process the crime scene. You told the lab you were on your way. Go…I’ll update Ms. Wagner.”

  As Jake walked away, he heard Chloe ask, “Why’s he avoiding me?”

  *

  Louie took a few minutes to reply, studying her. He mentally noted her statistics—five-six, one hundred twenty pounds, brown hair, brown eyes, and full mouth in a rounded face. A pretty woman, in “the girl next door” kind of way, wrapped in a bossy, possessive nature. The top two turn-offs for any man, especially one like Jake. Jake had dumped her quickly. He never dated any woman for long. Louie knew that Jake never allowed himself to get close to anyone.

  “He’s not avoiding you, Ms. Wagner. A difficult crime scene required all our attention.” Louie tactfully changed the subject. “What can I do for you?”

  “What’s happening with Shanna’s case?”

  “Unfortunately, we have nothing new. We haven’t forgotten her. We’ve started to re-interview everyone involved. We look at the case every week, Chloe. Unless some new piece of evidence turns up, or a new lead gives us another direction to look, we’ve hit a wall.”

  He hated when one got by them, this case particularly. Everything they’d learned about Shanna Wagner showed a woman who was well-liked. No enemies. A nice woman, everyone said. Louie knew murder. Such brutality normally meant the victim knew her killer. Somewhere along the line she pissed someone off and paid the price. Rage, Louie thought when remembering the crime scene pictures again—uncontrollable rage.

  “You can’t do anything else? My family’s torn apart. My mother haunts me several times a day to make sure I’m okay. My father walks around in a fog, like he’s lost. I believe they’re going to get a divorce. You say you can’t do anything else? What bullshit! You expect your answer will appease me? Well, it doesn’t. I’ll go over your heads to get my answers, Detective.” She shouted so loud that the other detectives in the bullpen looked over and went on alert.

  Louie thought Chloe’s anger at Jake seemed misguided. “We haven’t given up, Chloe. We’re working it every minute we have. Shanna deserves nothing less. Some cases take longer than others to solve. Some, I’m afraid to say, don’t get solved at all.”

  “I need closure. We need to move on. With the case still open, we can’t.”

  “We want to close the case too, Chloe.”

  Her next question didn’t surprise him. “Why isn’t he returning my calls, Detective?”

  Ah! Louie thought; the real reason for her visit. “I
don’t know, Chloe. You need to ask him.”

  “I would, if he’d answer his phone.”

  “I don’t get involved in his personal life. I’ll tell him to call you. If you need anything else on your sister’s case, please call through the switchboard.” Louie stood, letting Chloe know their conversation had ended. He started to walk her toward the door.

  “Do you know why he stopped seeing me?”

  Persistent woman. “I don’t know, Chloe, he never said.” He had ideas he could offer, but thought better of it. “I’ll tell him to give you a call.” He turned and walked back to his desk.

  Jake came back ten minutes later. “Thanks, Louie, what did she want, an update?”

  “To be honest, I don’t think so. She asked for one, telling me how the murder’s affecting her whole family. How they aren’t coping well. Truthfully, Jake? My impression is it’s you, not the case, that brought her here. She ended our conversation asking what went wrong with the two of you. She wanted to know if you’d answer next time she called.” Louie let out a little whistle.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her I don’t get involved in your personal life, though I didn’t see why you wouldn’t take her call.”

  “Oh puh-lease! I can’t get you out of my personal life. As for the call, I guess I’ll have to take it sometime. So you agree with me; there’s something off about her, right?” He stared at Louie.

  “I don’t know if something’s off, but she’s definitely more into how this is affecting her than in solving the case or helping her parents cope. That’s what I got from our conversation today. She’s making it about her, not her sister.”

  “Yeah, I got the same feel the last time we talked. I want to look at the case with new eyes. Let’s dig into Chloe’s life a little more deeply.”

  “Okay, you think we missed something there?”

  “I don’t know. I remember we didn’t look very deeply at the family. They couldn’t give a reason for Shanna being in town. I assumed the abduction took place at school. I don’t know…every time I see Chloe, something pushes forward in my head. I can’t quite grasp what it is. She’s not right. You know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I do, but I don’t think she did it.”

  “Why, because she’s a woman?”

  “No, I’ve seen…we’ve seen some pretty vicious crimes performed by women, Jake. I just don’t get a vibe from her.”

  “We have. I’m not shutting the door until we rule her out completely.”

  *

  After Chloe left, they processed the mounds of paperwork each crime demanded, starting with the murder book. In the middle of entering evidence Louie let out a heavy sigh, reached for his desk phone and dialed a number, never looking at the time.

  “Hello.” A woman answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Louie, what’s the matter?” Sophia asked, in a sleepy voice.

  “Nothing, I just needed to hear your voice,” Louie said to his wife.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “A baby.”

  “Are you going to be long?”

  “I don’t know when I’ll get out of here. How are the kids?” he asked, missing the family and the routine.

  “We’re all fine. We missed you at dinner. I’ll wait up for you, Louie.”

  “I don’t know how late I’ll be.” He didn’t say don’t.

  “I’ll see you when you get home.”

  “I love you.” Louie didn’t care who heard or if they’d bust his chops later. Nobody did, so it told him everyone had heard about the crime scene.

  *

  “How’s Sophia?” Jake asked.

  “She’s good.”

  Jake’s phone rang. He answered.

  “Hi, Jake…”

  “Hi, Sophia, what’s up?”

  “Nothing, wanted to make sure you were okay too.”

  “I am, thanks…”

  “Okay. Louie reminded you about the party next week, right?”

  “Sophia, he does nothing but remind me. What’s up? I told him it better not be another fix-up. I know you mean well…”

  “Are you kidding, Jake? I learned my lesson after the last one. No fix-ups for Jake.”

  “Great. Thanks for calling, Sophia. Do you want to speak with Louie again?”

  “No, I’ll see him when he gets home. Take care, Jake.”

  “She’s great isn’t she?” Louie asked. The three of them had been friends for over seventeen years. Jake never gave Louie any cause for jealousy. They were family.

  “Yeah, she is.”

  *

  The next morning Jake picked Louie up. Together they headed to Farmington, to the medical examiner’s office. The ME, Doctor Lang, would perform the autopsy on Keisha at nine a.m.

  “I checked my email this morning. The lab sent over the tox report on Washington. I don’t know how a guy with all that shit in his system remained conscious. I printed out a copy for you,” Louie said.

  “Okay, I’ll look it over when we get to Farmington.”

  Not one of their favorite parts of the job, they geared up mentally for the autopsy. Some just hit you harder than others. Jake’s stomach rolled like waves in a storm over this one. As he drove down the road, his mind wandered back in time to his first visit to the morgue. The year was 1992.

  A buzzing rang out in his ears. He didn’t know if the sound came from the florescent lights overhead or the starkness of the corridor as their footsteps echoed in the silence. The buzzing grew louder as the door drew closer. The medical examiner, Doctor Ed Jerome, put his hand up to stop them.

  Taking a deep breath, he said, “James, I know you’ve done this a hundred times, but this time it’s different. I can make the identification for you.”

  “No, I need to do this, Ed.”

  “Okay, why doesn’t Jake wait out here?” Doctor Jerome offered, giving Jake an out.

  Jake spoke up, his voice louder than intended. “I’m going in.” He said it with such force it brooked no argument.

  “Okay.” Ed pushed open the door.

  On the table lay a body covered with a white sheet. Ed’s assistants had set the victim up for viewing. There was no way to hide the odor of death, though they tried to camouflage it with disinfectant, air fresheners, and Clorox. ‘The house of death’ is what cops called it.

  Jake took a deep breath; he looked to his father for support. A tall man, whom Jake favored in height only, his father squared his shoulders and nodded to the ME.

  “Show me,” James demanded.

  Doc Jerome pulled back the sheet to reveal a girl in her mid-teens, badly bruised, the trauma of her death etched in her horrified expression. Fright forever pasted on her young face.

  “Was she raped?” James asked, while tears escaped his eyes.

  “Yes.”

  Neither man paid attention to Jake’s weeping at their side. Jake couldn’t stop as he viewed his younger sister. He gently touched her forehead, her cheek, kissing her on the lips.

  He turned away in grief, saw both his anger and his pain reflected in his father’s face. His father’s fists clenched, his shoulders racked with heavy sobs as he viewed the broken body of his daughter. Jake understood he looked with a father’s eye, not a cop’s.

  “Who could do such a thing to such a sweet, innocent girl?” James cried.

  Asking the same question that many, many parents asked him throughout his career. Jake understood his father never thought he’d be here asking the same questions, viewing his own.

  The buzzing in Jake’s ears increased. The next thing he knew, someone held a glass of water to his lips. The stress of the situation had overtaken him—he’d collapsed on the floor.

  “I’m sorry, Jake. I shouldn’t have brought you here.” James hugged Jake, crushing him to his chest.

  “I’m fine, Dad. Only, when you catch the bastard, I’m going to kill him for what he did to Eva. You need to know that.” He cursed i
n front of his father for the first time.

  “Jake, don’t speak…”

  “Jake, Goddamn it, Jake…” Brought back to the present by Louie yelling, horns blasting—Louie shaking him—Christ, he looked pale. Did I blackout? Jake wondered.

  “What’s up, Louie?” Jake tried to shake off the memory.

  “What’s fucking up? You almost got us killed. Where the hell did you go?” Louie shouted.

  “I’m sorry, Louie.” Jake pulled off the road, on to the shoulder of the highway. He put the car in park. “I don’t know what got into me. Here, you drive.” Unbuckling his seat belt, Jake climbed out of the car, walked around to the passenger’s side, climbed in.

  “What gives?” Louie asked after he took the wheel.

  “Only a flash back,” Jake stated. Louie knew about them, no one else did.

  “Only? Jesus, you almost got us killed, Jake. You haven’t had one in a long time. A bad one? You know, I think I’m gonna have to check my shorts later,” Louie rambled.

  “Funny. It was my first time at the morgue.”

  “Oh.”

  “I guess Keisha got to me more than I thought.”

  “It got to all of us. Buckle up. We’re going to be late.” Louie pulled back into traffic.

  Wanting to change the subject, Jake asked, “What do I get a fourteen-year-old girl for her birthday?”

  “Beats me. Ask Sophia.”

  “Louie, put your foot on the gas or we’ll never get there.” Jake hated the way Louie drove. His mother drove faster than Louie.

  “I’ll get us there safe, though.”

  “I normally do too,” Jake said, annoyed.

  “Call Sophia, get off my case. It’ll give you something to do until we get there.”

  Jake dialed Sophia; she picked up on the second ring. “What’s up, Jake?” she asked.

  “I can’t stand caller ID.”

  “I know, is Louie okay?” she asked, her voice a little strained.

  “He’s fine. In fact, he’s driving this morning.”

  “Oh?”

  “No oh—I’m a bit distracted. Mr. Worrywart thought I’d think better without having to deal with the traffic. The old lady insisted.”

  “I see.”

  “Quick call. I need to know what to get Marissa for her birthday. I don’t have a clue. No toys, right?”