by S I Taylor
Right now, he needed to concentrate and getting this case solved was the main objective, but nothing about the case was adding up and nothing was making sense to him. He still had doubts about Barbara Wolf but had to follow protocol. He got out of the shower, got dressed, walked outside, and called Coolidge.
The sounds of crickets, critters scouring through the dry leaves on the ground, and the howling of wolves were soothing to him in a weird way. It reminded him of…
“McKinley, if we weren’t work partners, I would’ve thought this was a late-night rendezvous call.”
“Why?”
“Have you not seen the time? It’s two in the morning.”
“Fuck, sorry. I couldn’t sleep. I have this case engraved in my mind and it’s giving me a headache.” Not to mention that Barbara was also the cause of the mind battle, but he left that part to himself.
“So, what’s up? What got you thinking so hard?”
“A lot, but I wanted to know if you found out anything about the naked guy that was found in my vehicle from Deputy Harry or from Dr. Kincade.” At the mention of the word “naked” his mind instantly went to Barbara’s body. The shower he took was not cold enough to calm him.
“That’s what’s keeping you up at night?”
“Yes. No. I mean yes. It’s part of the case and I need any kind of news.” And a distraction, he thought.
She sighed and gave in to his request. “Okay. Deputy Harry said that gang-related crimes in Huntersville are usually within their territories and the suspects rarely move the bodies to another location. That action usually gets them caught. Gang-related murders are most likely at the victim’s home and are nine times out of ten a drive-by shooting.”
“Damn! So we’re back to square one,” he told her.
“Not necessarily. We’re waiting for the autopsy to tell us the cause of death and the approximate time of death. And plus the forensic analysis report will give us some sort of idea of his identity.”
“Yeah, well, we have no other choice but to sit and wait for the results. Be it good or bad, we need answers,” he told her.
“What’s up with your suspect?” she asked.
“Someone wants her dead, so we have to lie low for a few days. And to add more complications to this messy case, she sprained her ankle.”
“Is that so? How did she manage to do that?”
“She tripped and fell on it a few times.”
“You’re delivering damaged goods?”
“I have nothing to do with her goods being damaged.”
“Ew, McKinley, you knew what I meant.”
“No, not really.” He chuckled.
“Anyway, I guess that answers your question if we got the right girl or not.”
“We don’t have anything concrete against her yet.”
“You might be right, but you said it—‘yet.’ ‘We don’t have anything yet.’ Besides, the list of names you didn’t finish didn’t yield anything,” she said.
“Why, what did you find out?” His hands raked his wet hair as he listened.
“Two of the girls changed their names.”
“Oh, really?” he said.
“Yeah, one of them changed it for domestic security reasons and the other is no longer a woman,” she said.
“Interesting,” he said, “so what about the other two?”
“Well, one had a solid alibi—well, both did, but this one you definitely can’t argue with. She was in the hospital giving birth.”
“So she’s scratched off the list, obviously. And the other?” He slowly paced the front deck as he continued to listen to Coolidge.
“She’s a stripper and was working that night, according to her employer and the other girls there. Plus, they have a sign-in sheet. And she starts the night dancing and they all get on stage at the end for a finale dance. So, another one off the list.”
“Fuck. I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but now we’re hanging on the prospect that is one girl—Wolf—and the chance that we have at least the right suspect,” McKinley said.
“You seem disappointed.” Her tone seemed surprised or rather skeptical.
“I’m… I… I mean, I just don’t want to have my hopes up and then we have to start all over again with the excruciatingly long list.”
“I hear you,” she said, “since I’ll be there sitting with you sorting through that list as well.”
Silence and the faint sound of people talking on the other end indicated that Coolidge’s TV was on or she had company. But McKinley knew better and figured that she couldn’t sleep as well. No wonder she gave in so easily to my request, she couldn’t sleep either, he thought.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” he asked.
“Well, did Wolf tell you something, did you ask her anything?”
“Since she invoked her rights, I can’t ask her anything, so as far as I know her situation is still circumstantial.”
“Maybe, maybe not. We can’t rule her out until we have answers,” she said.
“Sure. Anyway, I’m going to write up what happened, and I’ll email you and Bush a copy so you can read it with more details. When this is all over, I’m treating you both to a drink.”
“More like several drinks,” she said.
“I’m paying for one each for the three of us. The other drinks are definitely up to you both.”
“Ha, yeah, well, after those drinks, maybe I’ll go on a long vacation,” she said.
“Ditto,” he replied. “We have been working nonstop since the last case and this one is draining me. I feel like I’m losing more brain cells than gaining them.”
She laughed. “For me, I feel like I get a migraine every night I lie in bed. And when I think I have the case cracked another curve ball gets thrown at us.”
“You’re right, but don’t dwell on that. We got this. Before I forget, the car needs to be sent to forensics for processing. There’s a lot of bullet holes in it.”
“Another wrecked car, huh? Give me a second, I can give you the address of the FCCA lab closest to you.”
“Can you make sure that there’s a rental nearby so we can swap the car out and if it isn’t any trouble can you send it via email? I’m outside and I don’t have any writing materials with me.”
“Sure, anything else, your highness?”
“No.” He chuckled. “That will be all for now. I’ll call if anything else comes up,” he told her. “Coolidge, I do appreciate your help.” He was being sincere and although she didn’t reply she knew he meant it.
“Later.”
And they ended the call.
He stood outside, inhaling nature’s scent and feeling the night breeze against his skin. Even though he couldn’t see past the walkway, he knew the night was beautiful. The loud noises of crickets and the rattling leaves around him gave him a sense of peace in this chaotic case.
He kept thinking about the past few days and everything that had transpired thus far. In his years with the FCCA he hadn’t had an active role in protecting a suspect or using the safehouse. Most of their cases had been paperwork and coming up with strategies to safely set up surveillance to apprehend the suspect. This was the first case where he’d been fully involved. Not to mention that the first few years with the agency he’d been preoccupied trying to find his sister, Monroe. He hadn’t been truly invested in his work until recently, when they’d solved that case a few months prior to this one. He hadn’t given up on finding Monroe, but he had to take a step back to refocus himself and come back to it with a fresh new take on it. Trying to locate her was becoming like a missing person’s case.
He walked over to the vehicle and the details of the chase barraged his mind. Everything seemed odd. Everything seemed too calculated. He couldn’t understand how she’d been targeted when she was in another vehicle. None of this was adding up.
He sat in the car and before going back inside with the items he went to retrieve, he thought about som
ething that could probably shed some light on the situation.
He took the phone from his rear pocket and dialed Bush’s number.
“Hey, man, what’s up? If you’re calling from the safehouse this just means that the situation escalated,” Bush said.
“I’m good. And yes, the case has complicated itself. Sorry about the late call, but I need you to find out something for me. I think it’s important.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, but whatever you find out, call Coolidge and let her know of the outcome and I’ll get in touch with her for the details.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Bush said.
“Before I forget, did you find anything on the security cameras outside or inside of the warehouse?” McKinley asked.
“Nah, man. It’s like the place never had one. I asked Coolidge to get an electrical crew out there to inspect the facility and their notes ruled out any wiring to indicate otherwise. I even went as far as to search through security companies to see if the registered owner had hired one wirelessly, but nothing turned up. It seems weird that a business would only have security cameras outside but not indoors where the important merchandise is located,” Bush said.
“You bring up a good point. Maybe they couldn’t afford it when they first opened the business and never got around to installing one. Or maybe they considered that the outside ones were sufficient to deter criminals, since most people would assume if there’s cameras outdoors then there should be cameras inside as well. Don’t you think?”
“You could be right about that too. Regardless, there’s no cameras inside to give us any details about what happened in there,” Bush replied.
“Great. We’ll just have to use the evidence, the forensics, and the way the bodies were located to construct a story of what we believe happened to give to the state attorney.”
“Yeah, I agree. But dude, stop stalling and tell me what you want me to research already.”
“All right, all right.”
Chapter 32
The comfort of the mattress, the fluffy pillows, and the warmth of the blanket that enveloped her body made Barbara feel that she was sleeping like royalty. A piece of heaven that she might never get to enjoy but was somewhat grateful that at least before her death she was able to savor.
The aroma of scrambled eggs and sausage penetrated the air. She sat up, looking around, as the scent seemed to come from nearby. A breakfast tray lay on the nightstand and without any hesitation she ate the food and washed it down with a tall glass of orange juice.
She removed the blankets from her body and noticed that her ankle was wrapped in new bandages and a walking boot lay next to the bed. She was usually a light sleeper, but he must be gliding through the house because his footsteps were very light.
She stretched and yawned and although she knew she was in a terrible predicament, she felt like this was the life she deserved. To be able to wake up without worrying about the dangers of her job and watching her back. This little piece of paradise was something she would treasure.
She got dressed and walked to the kitchen, carrying the tray. The clicking of the keyboard attracted her attention to the computer screen and to the pictures laid out on the table.
“Thank you for breakfast and the boot.”
“I had extra food and shared it and we have a medical supply closet filled with essentials and you needed it, so I supplied them to you.” His voice was passive but his gesture meant something else to her.
“Well, anyway. Thank you. A simple ‘you’re welcome’ would suffice, you know.”
He continued clicking and got back to his task, ignoring her statement.
She looked at the photographs in front of him and started studying each one. McKinley was busy typing the rest of his report and paid no attention to Barbara. He had the printed photographs of the victims in the warehouse murder laid out in front of him as well as photographs detailing the scene. There were multiple photographs of the men’s horrified faces, their wounds, the blood splattered on their bodies and on the floor, the blood smeared on the wall toward the door, the security camera outside of the warehouse, and the four people standing outside and then the four disappearing inside.
Her hands glided over each photograph, sending shock waves and shivers through her body. With every photograph her mind traveled back to that day she woke up bloody. The faces, the body positions, the clothes, and that night bombarded her memory, assaulting her mind with every image that resurfaced in her thoughts. She took a step back in disbelief.
McKinley stopped typing and studied her expression. He looked intently at her. He had never seen anyone react the way that she was reacting by just looking at photographs. He knew the faces of victims and knew the guilty expressions of suspects, but this was new to him.
Barbara was shaking her head and trembling as she backed away from the table.
“I lost control again. I lost control again. I… lost… control…” she kept repeating over and over.
“Wolf! What’s wrong? What’s happening to you?”
“Don’t touch me! Stop it!” She was in a manic state of mind. She kept backing up until her back hit the wall. She was shaking her head. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m not touching you. What are you staring at? Who are you talking to?” McKinley asked but she couldn’t answer.
Her eyes were distant. Not moving. They were paralyzed in another realm. Her mind was elsewhere. Her mind was no longer in the present. She was reliving whatever her mind had shunned in that moment.
Everything that her mind had pushed away that night she was experiencing again as if for the first time.
McKinley stood from the kitchen table as Barbara fell to the floor and crawled backward until her back hit the wall hard.
She lay on the floor with her hands clasped together above her head as she violently shook and kicked as if she was being restrained.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t… touch… me,” she chanted.
He walked toward her, and her eyes seemed distant. A blank stare as if she saw a ghost. Her skin was pale, and she shivered even though the room was warm.
She curled up into the fetal position, shaking, repeating the same sentence.
“I lost control. I lost control. I lost control.”
He looked at her and her expression was scary. It was like watching an exorcism. Her body was contorting and moving erratically, fear and terror in her eyes.
He didn’t know what else to do. And he wished that Bush was there to calm the situation. Bush always knew what to do when victims or suspects lost it for whatever reason.
“I lost control. I lost control. I lost control.”
He slowly kneeled next to her and wrapped her in his arms. She was thrashing in his grasp. He held on to her tighter. He didn’t know what else to do. But standing by, looking at her, was not the best option either. His arms were in pain from how hard he had to restrain her. His body remained tense. He cradled her until she fell asleep.
He touched her skin. She felt hot but she was shivering. He carried her to the couch and watched her sleep. Her eyes fluttered and she mumbled incoherent words as she slept.
What was that about? Was it the food? I’m not the best cook but I’m not that terrible either, he thought.
He knew that what he’d laid out on the table in front of him would have been frowned upon by the agency, but she had invoked her rights, and this was the best tactic he could come up with to elicit some sort of confession or response from her.
But he hadn’t known that it would affect her so hard. She hadn’t been herself. She’d been in a trance. She’d looked like she was locked in a moment that she could not get away from no matter how hard she tried. Wolf was dying from within and he didn’t know how to get her out of it.
He was afraid that he had done something bad to her. He watched her without moving from her side, worried that she wouldn’t come back to
reality.
“What have I done?” he muttered.
Chapter 33
Barbara fluttered her eyes open, staring into brown eyes. The back of her palm touched her head. She felt like a ton of bricks were pounding on it. A feeling of déjà vu washed over her. Her entire body was in pain. She was sore.
“Nixon?”
“No, it’s me, McKinley.” He thought he heard this name before recently but it was quite a popular name.
“Oh, sorry. My body hurts,” she grunted.
“I have some painkillers set out for you on the table. Do you want them?”
She nodded without saying a word. “I’m not too fond of medications but this headache is bordering to a migraine.”
He handed her a glass of water as she sat up to take the two pills.
“What happened? Why am I on the couch?” she said as she massaged her temples and closed her eyes hard.
McKinley was relieved that she’d woken up and that nothing terrible had happened to her. He was blaming himself and felt terrible about what he’d done. Without thinking he grabbed her and hugged her tight. She instinctively pressed against his chest, not realizing what was happening. Until he responded.
“You were having a panic attack.”
She backed away from him quickly.
“I had a panic attack?” she asked, confused.
“Yes, you got into the fetal position, shaking, repeating the same sentence, and staring into the distance. I wrapped you in my arms and cradled you until you fell asleep. Then I carried you to the couch where you slept for about two hours. What happened?”
“I don’t know. I only remember looking at your work. Then my mind went blank. What were you working on?”
He hesitated.
“I was working on your case. I had the photographs of the three men who were murdered laid out on the table. It was almost like you were transported somewhere else when you studied them, and then the panic state I described to you started.”