Heart of Cole

by Micheal Maxwell

  She turned and stepped up behind Hanna. In a heartbeat she grabbed Hanna’s forehead and shoved the icepick into the base of her skull. The tea cup dropped to the floor. Hanna’s arms flailed and her legs jerked convulsively. Lindsey withdrew the shaft and thrust it again into Hanna’s brain, this time giving the ice pick three hard, circular twists. Hanna’s body went limp.

  “I am not leaving San Francisco. Not for two years, two days, or two hours. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody! I’m a writer, I work alone.”

  Lindsey threw the ice pick on the table. Hanna’s lifeless body slumped to the floor. Without emotion or concern, the girl turned and spread the strawberry cream cheese on her half of her bagel.

  Bagel in hand she returned to her room. She took three pairs of fresh panties from the dresser drawer and shoved them to the bottom of her back pack. She took the new jacket Hanna bought her and put it on. She glanced around the room. Deciding there was nothing else she needed, she returned to the kitchen.

  Hanna’s purse was hanging on one of the chairs at the small table. Lindsey opened it, took out Hanna’s keys. She opened the wallet and plucked out whatever money there was. There were several plastic cards: Visa, insurance, library card, a Safeway grocery card. She threw all but the Visa on the table. She overlooked the envelope with the airline tickets and check from Cole.

  Stepping over Hanna’s motionless body, Lindsey grabbed the other half of her bagel and stepped back over Hanna.

  “See ya’, Mom,” she said sarcastically.

  Lindsey headed to the front door, putting her backpack on as she walked. Almost as an afterthought, she turned and tossed the keys back into the apartment.

  “Later,” she said cheerfully as she closed the door.

  At nine-thirty, Cole was genuinely concerned. He had called Hanna’s cell phone at eight-thirty, but she didn’t answer. Since she now took Lindsey to school each morning, it wasn’t that uncommon for Hanna to be a few minutes late. He called again fifteen minutes later. Still no answer. At nine, he had decided to call Lindsey. Her phone went to voice mail. Cole figured it was class time and he hoped she would call when she saw his message.

  Cole busied himself online, searching for houses in the Palo Alto area. Around five to ten o’clock he took a break and went to the coffee station for a mocha.

  “Gee, Hanna on strike?” said a petite young woman in a floral dress.

  “Why?” Cole asked.

  “I can’t remember the last time I saw you get your own coffee. Good to know you can still do it.” The woman teased.

  “She hasn’t come in yet.”

  “It’s ten. Is she sick?”

  “That’s the weird thing, She hasn’t called. She’s never just not shown up before,” Cole stated awkwardly

  “That’s not like Hanna. At least, I mean, I don’t know her well, but it seems out of character.”

  “Have you called her?”

  “No answer.”

  “Worried?”

  “Yeah, I’m getting there.”

  “I am, too.” Cole didn’t mention Lindsey. Not a lot of people knew of Hanna’s new house guest. He respected her privacy, so he let it go.

  On his way to his office Cole checked Hanna’s desk calendar. There were notes about making Lindsey’s doctor and dentist appointments, a hair appointment for Hanna and a date with Jake. Nothing for the current date.

  At ten-thirty after calling Hanna three more times and Lindsey twice, Cole was now officially worried. Something was wrong. He could feel it: a heavy, sick feeling in his stomach.

  Cole went back to Hanna’s desk until he found a business card for Jake Salem.

  “Jake? Cole Sage,” Cole said, when the detective answered his cell.

  “Hey, how ya doin’?” Jake said, cheerfully.

  “I’m not sure. Have you talked to Hanna today?”

  “No, why?”

  “She didn’t show up for work. She didn’t call, and I can’t reach her. I called Lindsey, no answer there either.”

  “Did you call the school to see if the kid showed up?” Jake asked.

  “After the hard time they gave Hanna, I figured there would be no way they’d talk to me.”

  “I tell you what. Let me call. I’ll get back to you.”

  “Sounds good, thanks.” Cole didn’t like the investigative tone Jake took. He’d heard it a thousand times. It wasn’t personal anymore, he was full-on cop.

  When he dialed the school, Jake was connected with Pamela in attendance.

  “This is detective Winston Salem, SFPD. I need to know if a student is in attendance today.”

  “Certainly. Is there a problem?”

  “Not yet,” Jake said trying to sound friendly. It didn’t work.

  “Students Name?” Pamela asked.

  “Lindsey,”

  “Frost? The attendance clerk interrupted.

  “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “She’s my special project. I have to say I’m not doing real well. Let’s see here…so far she’s missed first, second, and third. Fourth period is lunch. Do you want a campus supervisor to try and spot her?”

  “Sound like that would be a waste of time,” Jake said flatly.

  “Probably. She’s not in trouble, is she? I hope not. She is so bright. Have you called her guardian Ms. Day? Maybe Lindsey stayed home sick. She was out last week. Her guardian called that in though. Sorry, but that’s all I have.”

  “Thanks, that’s all I needed.” Jake terminated the conversation.

  Without regard for Cole’s story of having called several times, Jake punched in Hanna’s number. He memorized it because he was always thinking about her and wanting to call.

  After several rings the number went to voice mail. From his location Jake figured he was about fifteen minutes from Hanna’s apartment. He did a U-turn and started for her place.

  As he pulled into the apartment complex, Jake immediately spotted Hanna’s Volkswagen.

  “Dummy forgot to turn on her phone.” Jake smiled in relief.

  He quickly climbed the outside stairs. Panic set in for a moment: what was his excuse for showing up unannounced in the middle of the morning when they both were supposed to be at work.

  He decided the best excuse was the truth. Trying to be as jovial as possible, Jake rapped out shave-and-a-haircut. The knock on the door was not firm; it took a moment for Jake to realize it was not fully closed. He knocked again, pushing slightly with each contact with the door. It moved inward.

  “Hanna!” Jake called out as he opened the door. “Hanna? It’s Jake!”

  There was no answer. The detective unclipped his pistol and slipped it from the holster.

  The apartment was still. He moved slowly across the entry into the small living room. Nothing seemed out of order. He moved toward the kitchen.

  The first thing he saw was the ice pick on the table next to a bowl. The sinister purpose of the oddly out of place item didn’t register. His eyes flashed around the room. Then he saw the body lying behind the table. He moved across the room to where Hanna lay motionless. Jake put his index and middle finger on her neck looking for a pulse. Nothing.

  “Lindsey!” Jake shouted, fearing there would be no response.

  The cold concentration of years of training and police work, murder scenes, and confronting active shooters, steeled Detective Winston Salem as he rose and walked to the hall. His mind raced with each step he took, trying to process what he had just found. He ran through numerous scenarios as he made his way down the hall.

  The bathroom door stood open, the room was empty. He went to Hanna’s room. The bed was neatly made and the toss pillows were in place. He turned, gun at shoulder level, and entered Lindsey’s room. The bed was not made, the top drawer of the dresser was out. A pair of powder blue panties hung from the top of the drawer. At that moment, Jake’s nightmare scenario became a reality. Lindsey killed Hanna and was on the run.

  “4180,” Jake said into his radio.
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  “4180 copy.”

  “I am on scene at a 187. I need CSI ASAP.

  Jake made his way down the hall to the kitchen. He went to Hanna’s body. This time not as a cop, but as a friend and suitor. Slipping his large frame between the table and the counter, he collapsed back on his bended knees. The detective broke protocol without hesitation and gently turned Hanna and put her head on his lap. As he stroked her hair, his broad shoulders began to shake. Tears streamed down his tanned unshaven cheeks.

  “Hanna, oh Hanna.” Jake repeated, gently rocking and stroking the cheek of the woman he fell in love with.

  He gazed at the ceiling and closed his eyes. Stop it, he told himself. “Stop it!” The black and whites will roll up soon. Get it together!

  As he opened his eyes he was looking eye level at the table. The blood on the steel shaft of the ice pick lay right in front of him.

  He gently laid Hanna back on the floor. In the distance he could hear the approaching sirens.

  Reaching in his pocket he removed his phone and punched in a number.

  “Leonard. I found the ice pick killer.”

  Within minutes the small apartment was swarming with crime scene investigators, a photographer, videographer, and Leonard Chin.

  “What are you doing here?” Chin asked.

  “Cole called and said Hanna hadn’t shown up for work. He called her and Lindsey a bunch of times. He called me to see if I had talked to her. I wasn’t far away and thought I would drop by and see what was up.”

  “I am so sorry.” Chin reached out and squeezed Jake’s arm.

  “We need to tell Cole,” Jake said softly.

  “He doesn’t know? Oh man. Oh my, oh God.” Chin shook his head as if to say “I can’t do it.”

  “Do you want me to go?” Jake asked.

  “Can you? I mean, are you…” Chin paused, “are you able to?”

  “We both love her. I need to do it. He deserves that much. I know you are close, but I think it will be better if I do it. Then, I’ll be back on the street.”

  “Look, you know you can’t work this.”

  “I have to find her.”

  “Then what? The state you’re in you’d shoot her.”

  Jake didn’t respond.

  “Badge and service weapon.” Chin held his hand out.

  “Are you serious?” Jake demanded.

  “You know the rules. I am your closest superior and it is my responsibility. Besides, you’re a witness. You’re already in deep enough trouble for moving the body. I understand. I would have probably done the same. Just the same, it is my responsibility. Don’t make this any harder than it is.” Chin again put his open palm in front of Jake.

  “I’m still going to look!” Jake handed Chin his pistol and badge.

  “I can’t stop you. But, you will call it in. Under no circumstances are you to make contact with that girl. Do you understand me, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” Chin’s tone was no nonsense.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Leonard Chin and Jake Salem had worked together from more than a decade, and in all that time Chin never pulled rank. There was no doubt that Jake was under direct orders to not interfere with the investigation. No matter, Jake swore he would be the one to find Lindsey Frost.

  Cole Sage knew the look. He’d seen it more times than he could possibly begin to count. When Jake Salem stepped up to his open door, Cole knew something was terribly wrong.

  “What is it, Jake?” Cole’s question left no room for doubt. He expected bad news.

  “Can I sit down?”

  “Of course.”

  The handsome detective now seemed diminished in size, and he seemed to have aged in years since their first meeting a few days before.

  “I’m here as a friend, not a cop, Cole. I have some very bad news. Try and brace yourself for the worst.” Jakes voice quavered slightly.

  Cole didn’t answer. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the man across his desk.

  “It’s Hanna. She’s been killed.”

  Cole gave a slight nervous chuckle, he didn’t mean to, and he found nothing funny in the statement. His complete shock, denial, and disbelief wouldn’t allow him to process the words still hanging in the air.

  “Wh…what?” Cole finally said.

  “She’s been murdered. She’s dead. Lindsey stabbed her. Lindsey is the icepick killer.”

  “She’s a child.”

  “No matter.”

  “Hanna’s dead? Who told you? Are you sure?” Cole refused to believe.

  “I found her myself. I took her pulse. I held her in my arms.”

  As if drawn by some great magnetic force, Cole’s chair spun and faced the wall behind his desk. He heaved great sighs trying to get a breath.

  “I found the ice pick on the table,” Jake continued. “The wound was the same. I have no doubt that Lindsey killed Hanna as well as all those other people who died of puncture wounds.”

  “So, it was instant?” Cole asked softly.

  “I believe so.”

  “What now. I mean, how will they find her?” Cole blinked hard.

  “I’m off the case. Chin took my badge and gun. I understand. I’m too close. But I’m not sitting still. I just wanted to be the one to tell you. Not some snot-nose rookie patrolman.” Jake approached Cole’s desk. “I know that whatever I’m feeling you are feeling a hundred times worse. It hurts like hell. Down to my marrow, I am aching. I will find her, Cole.”

  Cole stood. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Can’t do it. Chin would blow a fuse. Call ‘im. I’m sure he’ll let you ride along with him. You know better than anyone what Lindsey looks like. Really looks like, not just a school picture.”

  The two men stood silently for a long moment.

  “I really thought I found…the one.” Jake’s voice was quaking.

  “You have no idea what you found. She was one of a kind.” Cole rounded the desk. “I don’t usually do this.” Cole reached out and they hugged.

  “God knows I needed that. Thanks, buddy.” Jake turned and left the office.

  As Cole closed the door behind Jake, he could no longer contain his emotions. Collapsing into his chair he folded his arms across his desk and wept.

  It took a while for Cole to process the news. He sat staring and holding his hands over his eyes for a long while. Finally, he sniffed hard and reached for the phone.

  “Leonard? Cole.”

  “I’m so sorry, my friend. I just don’t know what to say.”

  “Say ‘I can ride along with you’.”

  Chin didn’t respond.

  “Look, I can ID her from a distance, I know her, I can…”

  “OK, I get it. I took Jake off the case because he’s too close. You’re even closer. The first misstep, friends or not, I will drop you at the curb. Understood?”

  “You have my word.”

  “I’ll pick you up in a half hour.” Chin paused. “We’ll get her Cole, I swear to you, we’ll get her.”

  Cole paced on the sidewalk in front of the Chronicle. His thoughts raced from anger to sorrow, from hatred to guilt. The sight of Chin’s dark blue sedan and a deep breath, cleared Cole’s head and prepared him to face his friend.

  “Thank you for this,” Cole said getting in the car.

  “I have to tell you: the odds are we won’t be the ones to spot her. If and when we get the call, you have to stay out of the way, you must do as I tell you. Unless I specifically ask for help, you are just a silent observer. Clear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where do you suggest we start?”

  “Palace of Fine Arts. She loves to go there and write.”

  The friends rode mostly in silence. Cole looked out the window and scanned the sidewalks, alleys, and side streets for a glimpse of Lindsey. The radio occasional squawked out calls.

  As they turned onto Baker Street, Chin turned to Cole, “So, we can circle the whole park in a matter
of minutes. You up for it?”

  “You bet.”

  Near the corner of Beach and Baker, Chin spotted a parking place and pulled over.

  “OK, How about you go right and I go left. We’ll meet on the other side. If you spot her, lay low until I get around to you. Do not make contact. We’ll do it together. Agreed?” Chin opened his door and waited for a response.

  “Absolutely.”

  The warmth of a clear day brought people outside and into the park. Lots of tourists, cameras around their necks, strolled the sidewalk that circles the magnificent exposition structure.

  The benches and few tables on the grounds were empty. Cole tried to look fifty or more yards ahead to make sure if Lindsey was there, he would spot her long before she saw him. He walked slowly and tried to calm his nerves by counting his steps. Anything to keep his mind off the reason for his search.

  It only took a few minutes for Cole and Chin to meet on the walk across from where they started. Cole shook his head.

  “Possible sighting of Female Juvenile matching the description of Lindsey Frost. South side Union Square. Officers approaching. Will detain. Please advise.”

  “On our way.” Chin slammed the radio back on its base. “Hold on!”

  Lights and siren cut through the peaceful setting as they spun a u-turn and roared up the street.

  “Wouldn’t Franklin be faster?” Cole asked as they turned onto Scott Street.

  “I don’t want to chance the traffic.”

  Chin’s agility driving through traffic running red lights was a mix of passive aggressive bobbing and weaving, full-out manic abandon. The normal twenty to thirty minute trip across town was cut to fifteen.

  Three black and whites were parked at the curb and in the street as they approached Union Square.

  “Hang back a minute.” Chin instructed as they exited the car.

  Cole watched as Chin approached a police cruiser with the back door standing open.

  “What have we got?”

  “She won’t give us her name and has no ID.”

  “What’s your name?” Chin demanded leaning down at the silhouette in the back of the car. Cole watched and strained to hear.

  “I ain’t done nothin’.”