by Rick Murcer
He rubbed his face with both hands. “Well, they were true, mostly. She died horribly, and I should have been there. She said she could handle it, and that our caseload here was too crazy to leave, so I agreed.” His hand started to shake, and he clenched it with the other. “I’ve not slept well since her funeral.”
Crouse stepped close and took both his hands. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know, but I can’t help wondering how it would have gone if I’d been there.”
“You’ll make yourself crazy trying to figure that one out. So stop. I kind of like my partners not spending their nights in the loony bin.”
“Believe me, if I could, I would. It’s just not that easy.”
Squeezing his hands, she stepped back. “Did you love her?”
Ruiz gave her an even, steady gaze. “The other rumor?”
“Yep. Hey, there might be seventeen thousand cops on this island, but stuff like that gathers no moss.”
“I suppose it doesn’t. Let’s just say we were close.”
“Fair enough.”
“Anyway. The FBI’s BAU is the best, and I hear Detective Williams is now part of them. We have enough shit going on and could use their help on this one.”
“Okay. When will they be here?”
“Hopefully within twelve hours or so. Hell, they don’t even know about the other two bodies found near the La Mina Trail.”
“So all bullshit aside, do you think this is drug-related? I mean half the damn killings on the ‘Isle of Enchantment’ are.”
Ruiz opened his hands. “I don’t think so. I could be wrong, but I don’t see it. We’ve seen some gory shit between local drug lords and all of that turf war violence. I mean the throat slashing and the execution-style crap. But I’ve never seen anything like this from them. They almost have a code, not always, but mostly. There’s no freaking code here. This killer didn’t attempt to hide anything and left everything of any value at each murder scene.”
“And . . . ?”
“And my gut tells me it’s different, for whatever that’s worth. But that’s where guys like this Williams come in. He’ll know, and that can only help find this warped bastard.”
The cell on his desk began to chime, the ring tone set to a famous piece by cuatro player Yomo Toro. He glanced at the screen and did a double take.
“Shit,” he whispered.
“Who is it?”
“The coroner.” He picked up the phone. “Ruiz here.”
A moment later, he dropped the phone from his ear and shook his head.
“I hate it when you look like that,” Julia said.
“Yeah, well, I hate it too. They found another body, only one this time.”
“In El Yunque?”
“Yes. But it’s bad.”
His partner’s eyes grew larger. “What do you mean, bad?”
“They found the commander of the park ranger division, sliced beyond recognition.”
“Shit.” Her eyes widened. “Oh man. Isn’t he the brother of a—”
Her words were halted by the slump in Ruiz’s shoulders. He’d forgotten about the park ranger’s connection with the Feds.
Picking up the land line, he slowly dialed the number he’d already memorized.
Chapter-13
“What the hell does that mean?” asked Manny, watching Josh’s eyes closely.
Sophie was more abrupt. “Are you leaving the Bureau? If so, I’ll have to kick your ass right now. Then nurse you back to health the Chinese way.”
“Relax,” said Josh. “It just means that there might be something more on the horizon for me. And what does ‘the Chinese way’ mean?”
“Let’s just say you won’t be feeling any pain.”
“That works,” grinned Josh.
“A promotion? You’ve only one way to go, man. So that means—” Chloe began, walking gingerly to the head of the bed.
“Assistant director,” Manny finished.
“Well, maybe. The assistant director over the BAU and a couple of the drug-trafficking units is retiring due to health concerns and AD Dickman wants me to throw my hat in the ring. I said yes, that’s all.”
“That’s all? I think that’s pretty significant,” frowned Alex.
“Yeah, that’s like calling Lake Michigan a pond,” said Sophie.
“Hey. Guys. It’s just a hat in the ring. There’s a bunch of agents with more experience, so I’m not even in the top five, I’m sure. Okay?” Josh had a hard edge to his otherwise calm voice when he said “okay?”
“Okay it is,” answered Manny, knowing Josh knew more.
Manny watched Josh’s hand move to the back of his neck and the particular way he looked down and away. Not Josh Corner traits. There was more to the scenario than his friend was letting on. He was hiding something, something deep that birthed a level of anxiety he kept to himself. Josh turned Manny’s way, peering intently at him.
That’s more like Josh Corner.
“I should never talk about these things in front of profilers. Didn’t we have a deal? No profiling the boss, right?” he said.
“I don’t remember that one,” said Manny. “It’s just obvious you’re less than comfortable with all of the attention. So we’ll back off, for now. Not to mention you must have a headache the size of Texas.”
“Like hell we will,” said Sophie. “I sign up and you leave? Not happening. Oh, and I have an old Chinese cure for that headache, but I ain’t telling, or showing.”
“Come here,” said Josh.
Sophie looked at Manny, then to Alex, then to Chloe. Each glance reflecting that wonderful uneasiness that was so rare to see in his partner.
“No. I’m—I’m pissed at you,” she sputtered.
“Now, Agent Lee,” demanded Josh.
Taking a deep breath and leaving the uneasiness in the dust, she marched to the left side of the bed, her hair bouncing in rhythm with her steps.
“What?”
“Closer.”
She shuffled a step closer. “This is all you get. What?”
He pulled her head close and whispered in her ear. When he was done, she moved back and folded her arms. “You can’t play that card, especially now.”
“My badge, and our friendship, says I can. Do we have a deal?”
Rolling her eyes, she bent to Josh, kissed his forehead, then moved back to Manny. “Freaking men. Yeah, we got a deal, for now. Asshole.”
“You’re too kind.”
Josh got out of bed and stood in the middle of the room, looking directly at Manny. “No grilling her either. This one is between us.”
There existed almost a pleading in his boss’s eyes. He found himself, once again, wondering what the hell was going on, but nodded his agreement.
“All right,” said Manny.
Chloe moved to Manny’s side, looping her arm through his.
For the second time in ten minutes, he felt the elation of knowing someone you love is safe. What could match that?
“Let’s get organized,” Josh said. “The docs will be here in a few, so Chloe and I will harass them into a positive update on our conditions.”
Chloe slipped off the sling. “What conditions?”
Josh followed suit and unwrapped the gauze from his head, revealing another semi-bloodied bandage on his forehead. “She’s right. I feel better already.”
“You both look good too,” said Sophie.
“I’ll say it again, none of you are right,” said Alex. “Doctors usually know what they’re talking about, but none of you are going to listen.”
“Hey. We’ve got work to do,” said Josh. “The next thing will be to check out the weather and get us to San Juan as quickly as possible. That means you’ll have to be ready when the pilot says when.”
“I hate to be a wet blanket here, but are you two sure you’re ready to get back inside a plane right now?” asked Alex, again.
Josh and Chloe exchanged a look and shrugged in unison.
&nb
sp; “My mum used to say you got to get back on the seat when you fall off, so I’m okay,” said Chloe, her eyes full of determination. Another trait Manny loved about her.
“Her mom and my dad must have been from the same school,” added Josh. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Besides, I hate buses.”
“You had a traumatic experience, and it might not be that easy.”
“Thanks Alex, but we’re done talking about this.”
The door swung open, and a team of three doctors entered. The first one was a short, lithe woman, who was probably older than she looked, with intelligent, deep-brown eyes and high cheek bones on a handsome face that demanded respect.
“Agents. My name is Doctor Mary Gilger, and I’ll be ensuring you walk out of here in better condition than before the accident.”
“Thank you, doctor, but I think we’ve made miraculous recoveries and are ready to check out,” said Josh.
Grinning, Manny thought how charming Josh could be, but judging by the doctor’s body language, bullshitter wasn’t anything she embraced.
“I’ll be the judge of that, Agent Corner. None of you police types ever think you’re hurt, or you all have some damn Guardian-of-the-Universe attitude that makes you invincible.”
“Well, that would be him, the blond, blue-eyed cop over there. I’m just a fast healer,” said Josh.
“I can see that about Agent Williams.”
She eyed Manny and winked. “Yes, I know who you are. We know who all of you are. Just because you’re good-looking doesn’t mean we don’t check out who comes to visit injured FBI agents. No one got into this room unless I knew about it. Even Asian women who threaten nurses.”
“Sorry,” said Sophie, running her shoe back and forth on the floor. “She was being a bitch.”
“That’s her job.”
The doctor turned back to Josh. “But you’re also full of shit. You’re not healed and neither is the Irish Princess.”
“I assure you doc—”
“You’re not assuring anything until I get a closer look, got it?” she growled.
Sophie covered her mouth and laughed. Alex didn’t bother. He just laughed out loud. Manny joined him.
“Did ya hear that Williams? I’m royalty. I need to be treated that way,” Chloe reminded him.
“I got it handled,” said Manny.
“I’ve got other patients who might actually listen to what I’ve got to say, so let’s get this in motion. Both of you, on the bed, chop, chop.”
“You guys are in deep do-do,” said Sophie.
Just then the phone rang, and Josh snatched it off the nightstand. “This is Corner. Yes, Detective Ruiz. Good to hear from you, too.”
The expression on Josh’s face changed, and Manny felt his heart climb to his throat.
“What’s the bad news, detective?” asked Josh.
A moment later, the phone slowly slipped from his hand and bounced off the tiled floor. Manny grabbed it before it could rebound a second time. He brought the phone to his ear and heard only static and line noise.
The room had taken on one of those eerie quiet reversals of ambience with which this group had grown far too familiar. Joy one moment, hell the next. By the look on Josh’s face, hell had left another calling card. Manny wondered if it would ever stop.
“What is it, Josh?” he asked softly.
“Remember that ‘in’ I have, uh, had at the rainforest park department?”
“Yes.”
“He was the head of the division. They just found his body, and he was murdered like the others.”
Josh looked at Manny with a sadness he thought only possible in his own world. “His name is Caleb, Caleb Corner, my brother.”
Chapter-14
Wiping the blood and tissue, not to mention the pesky strands of hair, from his blade, he couldn’t get the smile off his face. The task of cleaning his sword had been very unpleasant at first, maybe even morbid. However, after the second executions, the cleaning began to lend itself as pleasurable on some level. He had studied other areas of academia but had little desire to delve deeply into the human psyche. He still didn’t, but his natural curiosity couldn’t, wouldn’t, be dismissed as easily as a confused student in one of his classes. Nevertheless, he had little time to research what his emotions might mean. He was far too busy, and in a real sense, enjoying himself far too much to care what any such analysis would reveal. His overall purpose was noble, enlightened, even destined, if one chose to travel down the road leading to any kind of spiritual superstition or religion. God never entered into his definition of existence, but if there was a God, He would surely approve of what he was doing. After all, sacrifice was a part of any equation that leads to advancing human knowledge. His smile grew wider.
Never mind that each lesson I deliver to the infidels in my rainforest is becoming almost as satisfying as any sexual encounter I’ve ever experienced . . . maybe more.
He carefully placed the rapier back in the sheath and took it into the den, securing it in the oblong safe he had built just for his collection. He bent lower and frowned in concentration, examining the safe’s contents with the gaze of a protective, proud father. Each one was perfect in its own right. Each one carefully constructed by men who shared his passion for perfection and purity, albeit centuries in the past. The type of genius required to create such objects of sheer precision was as rare then as it was today.
After touching and affectionately caressing each of the other five rectangular cases, he chose one that was a little shorter than the rest. There was no question that his attempt at impartiality was compromised by what lay hidden in the felt lining of the customized leather case. It was his favorite. He felt a tinge of guilt at that admission, but truth is always truth, no matter how much makeup one uses to disguise it.
Carefully pulling out the container, he released the combination locks at each corner and opened it. He could only stare for a moment, then was compelled to glide the fifteenth century Koto Katana sword from its resting place. The ivory handle had been restored and the gold inlaid inscriptions running down the blade were almost as bright and colorful as the day they were created.
The hilt was curved in the classic two-handed custom of that era and it felt like it belonged in his hands. There was a sense of oneness he could barely comprehend, but it didn’t matter. Love is never predictable or understood; it just is. And make no mistake—he loved this blade like a man loved his new bride.
He tenderly fingered the inscription. He’d spent long hours researching and growing in understanding of each message and the incredible culture behind the craftsman, known as Ippo, who’d built this blade. He knew that it had all of its dimensions recorded in the inscription and how rare a six-fold carbon construction was. The legends surrounding the forging of this weapon included the adding of human blood in the molding method. All very interesting, but not as interesting as the cutting tests. The tester of this blade had accomplished a rare feat with this particular sword. It was called a two-body cut. The tester had successfully cut clean through two living human bodies, according to the inscription, in an attempt to reveal the quality of construction the Katana possessed. Closing his eyes, he could picture the test being accomplished. He felt himself swoon with emotion.
“What a seal of approval that must have been,” he whispered. “If only I’d been there.”
He brought the blade to his face. The aroma of old ivory and steel caused him to close his eyes in pure ecstasy. This instrument, this lover of justice and vengeance, would accompany him on the next step of his purging mission. If the defilers of his rainforest wouldn’t leave El Yunque, the blood of the sacrifices would be on the hands of the bureaucrats that let them in, not on his.
Thrusting the sword in the air, turning two perfect pirouettes, he stopped in a striking pose as gracefully as any dancer. He then placed the sword back in its home, laughing out loud as he did. It was getting late in the afternoon, and as much as he wanted, perhaps needed
, to visit the rainforest and teach another lesson, he’d get an early start at dawn. After all, morning surprises were always the best. They radiated a semblance of Christmas morning, and who didn’t appreciate Christmas morning? Besides, he loved being the bearer of surprises. Who knew, after a few more bodies, maybe the government would shut down public access to his rainforest. He sighed. It wouldn’t be for a while, he suspected, because humans are innately stupid. Of course, law enforcement would have to make its usual ridiculous attempt to figure out what was going on and to capture the immoral person responsible for the murder of innocents.
He felt his blood instantly boil, his heart rate climb. There was no justice for his mother and certainly hadn’t been any for El Yunque over the years. He knew that double standards and concepts of right and wrong prevailed in this age. But they hadn’t counted on someone like him. He would win. He would change perceptions. Nevertheless, he’d begun to leave them clues, a fighting chance to meet him. Something his rainforest, and his mother, no longer had.
Chapter-15
“Perhaps I’ve not made myself clear,” spoke Randall Fogerty, leaning on the counter of the car rental office. “I need the limo I always rent when I come to San Juan.”
The attendant stepped back, eyes widening to the sweet venom in his voice. But she repeated what she’d said a moment earlier, her Latino accent heightened by stress. “I’m sorry, sir, that vehicle is reserved, and I cannot give it to you. I hope you understand. It’s our policy.”
He leaned closer and spoke softer. “What’s your name?”
“Evita, sir.”
“Ah. That means life, yes?”
“Yes sir, it does.”
Her nervousness was escalating. Good. “Well Evita, does it look like I give a lizard’s ass about your policy?”
“I . . . I, no it doesn’t, but—”
At that moment, a man emerged from the back office, and he immediately rushed to the counter, eyes showing more than just a concern for customer service.