13th Avenue

by Cyrus Winters

  Stasia grimaced. She handed the phone back to Carmichael.

  “I’m gonna be sick,” she whispered.

  “Hello? Graves?” Carmichael was saying. “Yes. Yes, I’ll tell her.”

  Stasia went to the Captain’s car and placed her hands on the roof for support.

  He stood behind her, saying goodbye to Graves.

  “You know he’s a homicidal psychopath,” Stasia said.

  “Who? Graves?”

  “Yeah. Him.”

  “Did something happen after you left the precinct?”

  Stasia turned around to face him.

  “Graves said he’s found the killer and we should go pick him up. Unless, there’s something else you need to tell me.”

  Stasia closed her eyes. “It’s been a long day, Captain.”

  “I know it has,” he said sincerely.

  “I just want it to be over.”

  “Do you want me to take you home?”

  Stasia’s eyes flashed open. “Absolutely not.”

  CHAPTER 40

  The clinic wasn’t supposed to be open this late, but pale blue lights shimmered around the windows and outside in the parking lot. There were a few cars stationed – not many, but still some – indicating that there might be people still working inside. It was three floors high with plenty of space for all sorts of departments and offices. Fae and Morello sat in Fae’s car watching them from the street adjacent.

  “Voicemail, always voicemail,” Morello said, hanging up the phone. “The thing of it is, we don’t even really need to speak to – what’s the name again?”

  “Doctor V. Taggart,” Fae answered.

  “If we can just convince whoever is inside to let us into Taggart’s office, we might be able to access everything we need from his computer.”

  “We’ll need a warrant for that.”

  “We can try without one,” Morello said. “Nothing to lose.”

  “I guess so.”

  They both got out of the car.

  The street was basically dead. No wind. No breeze. Just cold and hollow.

  They walked across the road, Fae’s arms wrapped around herself, Morello with a little more step in his stride. This was exhausting for both of them, and it was probably something that could be left for the morning, but they were here now. They wanted answers and behind the walls of this building, many could be lurking.

  Or alternatively, it could just be another dead end.

  They made it up the concrete steps to the front entrance where there were large glass sliding doors. They were locked. A security guard dressed in white approached them and Morello flashed his ID.

  Snap.

  The doors parted.

  “Can I help you?” the security guard asked.

  “We’d like to come in, if that’s alright,” Morello said. “We have a few questions for your staff, concerning a homicide investigation.”

  “Can you come back tomorrow?” the guard said. “We’re closed up here.”

  “Is there staff currently working?”

  “There might be one or two doctors present. Is there anyone in particular you’re after?”

  “Dr. Taggart.”

  The guard thought for a moment. “He was here earlier, but I think I saw him go home.”

  “Well, is there a way for you to be sure?”

  The guard swallowed. “Alright. Come in then.”

  Fae and Morello stepped through the doorway.

  They moved around a carpeted hallway to the reception area around the corner. A young woman sporting dark hair with a fluorescent pink fringe was seated at the main desk. She had headphones on and was typing away.

  “Ask her,” the guard said, remaining behind them.

  “Thank you,” Morello said.

  They approached together.

  The woman’s tag read – AMY.

  “Hi,” she said with a great, big smile, looking up. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m Special Agent Morello, this is Detective Dory. We’re currently working on an investigation where we believe one of your doctors could provide us with some assistance.”

  “I see. Anyone or someone in particular?”

  “A Dr. V. Taggart.”

  Amy raised her eyebrows. “He was here earlier today. I’m not sure if he’s here now.”

  “Could you check please?”

  Amy picked up the phone and pressed a few buttons. They waited.

  “I’m sorry, it appears Dr. Taggart has left for today,” Amy said replacing the receiver. “Is there a message I can pass along then?”

  “You wouldn’t be able to let us use his computer would you. It is rather urgent.”

  Amy shook her head. “That would be against the law. Unless you have a search warrant, of course.”

  “We might do,” Morello said. “Just one moment.”

  He pulled away from the desk.

  Fae smiled at the receptionist and followed Morello’s lead.

  “Are you finished?” the guard called out to them.

  “Not quite,” Morello said. He turned to Fae. “Stall them. Right?”

  “Me? Because you’re…”

  “Yes. Just play along.” He turned back to Amy. “May I use your bathroom please?”

  She made a face. “If you must.”

  Morello nodded.

  “Just around the corner here, there are signs that will –”

  “Thanks,” Morello said hurrying off.

  “Where’s he going?” the guard asked.

  “Bathroom,” Fae said quickly.

  The guard went to pursue Morello.

  “Just a moment,” Fae said, blocking his path. “I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”

  “Uh, I’m not sure if –”

  She touched his arm and batted her eyes. “If you would be so kind.”

  The guard blushed. “Well, if you insist.”

  CHAPTER 41

  The kid’s screams were still in his ears. The blood. The tears. The smoke and melting skin. Detective Graves had opened that door now. No more hostages. No more going back. He’d reached the very end.

  On the way to Hell, he swung by his house to find everyone in bed and fast asleep. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat in the living room for a few minutes, watching his parents sleep on the foldout couch. He could still smell tonight’s dinner in the house. The meat, the vegetables, the pastas, the sauces. The wine. How differently his life would have turned out perhaps if he hadn’t started drinking earlier. Sure, he’d committed murder before. But that’d been in a morally grey area. Now he’d gone running out into the black. It was much colder here.

  He wandered on from the living room and visited Patricia who had passed out on the bed from whatever she’d been drinking. The pills were all spilled out over the carpet. He felt bad for leaving her like this, but then on another level he knew their love was a sham. If she knew who he really was, would she still love him? It didn’t make a difference now.

  Last of all, he went into the baby’s room.

  The little angel lay their sleeping, oblivious to the father standing over him, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Don’t be like me,” Graves whispered. He got down on his knees and lifted a lose plank in the skirting board and pulled up the cloth sitting underneath. He unfolded it, producing a loaded revolver, which he stuffed into his jacket before leaving the house.

  He would not be coming back.

  By the time he reached the gas station near 13th Avenue, it was a quarter to two in the morning. He knew Stasia and the Captain would be here soon, so there wasn’t time for him to loiter around or contemplate.

  No time. To reminisce.

  He pushed open the door of his vehicle and stepped out to the concrete. He walked up through the convenience store’s sliding doors, which opened freely. There was no one behind the counter.

  Graves hesitated. He began making his way down the aisles, looking at everything in its place. He went to the freezer ches
t at the back and pulled up a bottle of blue-colored sports water, twisting and turning the object in his hand. He blinked a few times.

  And wondered where the years went.

  “Hello sir, good evening,” a friendly voice greeted behind him.

  He turned around holding the bottle, to see an Asian girl standing behind the counter. She was maybe eighteen years old.

  “Detective,” he corrected handing her the bottle to scan.

  “5.99,” the girl said. “You pay by card?”

  “Sure.” Graves scanned his card.

  “Alright, thank you. See you later.”

  Graves stared at her. “I’m looking for Jason Hong. Is he around?”

  She became flustered. “He’s sleeping. What you –”

  Graves pulled out his revolver and blasted her in the face. Blood and tissue showered his skin and clothes, as well as the gun itself.

  He turned away from the counter, his whole body still.

  His mind a blank.

  Eventually Mr. Hong ran through the doors.

  Graves had never been so pleased to see someone.

  CHAPTER 42

  Special Agent Dick Morello stepped out of the elevator on floor three, where he’d seen Dr. Taggart’s placeholder marked on the information board. He walked quietly along the corridor, observing the names fitted to each office, until about halfway along he was standing in front of Dr. Taggart’s. He looked around to make sure he was alone, before trying the door handle. It was unlocked.

  Morello let out a sigh of relief and slipped inside the office, closing the door behind him. He scurried around to the desk and saw the computer was switched on, the desktop open, waiting for him to browse.

  He went to the search bar and typed Nicholas Graves.

  Several results were listed. Morello began scrolling through the file names.

  Stomp, stomp, stomp –

  Footsteps!

  Morello quickly exited the search and jumped out of the chair, just as the door opened.

  A tall gentleman with a triangular shaped nose and a large forehead entered the room, switching on the light. He was wearing a tidy black suit with matching gloves and shoes.

  “Ah!” Morello exclaimed. “You’re here after all.”

  The man eyeballed him, perplexed.

  “You must be Dr. Taggart,” he said hurrying round to shake his hand. “My office said they phoned ahead to schedule an appointment, but they didn’t know if you would be here.”

  Taggart reluctantly shook his hand.

  “Special Agent Morello. I’m investigating a matter involving one of your patients. I thought you might be able to help.”

  “I see,” Taggart said awkwardly. “You are aware of course, I’m limited in my capacity of discussion. There would have to be rather trying circumstances.”

  “May I sit down? Do you mind?”

  “No. Please.”

  Morello sat down on the chair opposite the desk, while Taggart moved around to the other side. He pushed his chair in slowly as Morello had left it. His eyes scanned the computer screen. “How many I help, Special Agent … what was it?”

  “Morello.”

  “Special Agent Morello.”

  “Yes. Uh. Well, the matter concerns a member of staff at the city precinct. Detective Nicholas Graves has recently been relieved of his duties.”

  “Oh really. That’s a shame.”

  “So you did in fact meet with Nicholas Graves then? He was your patient?”

  “No, I wouldn’t say he was a patient.”

  Morello stirred. “You are a – you’re a psychologist, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, I have it on authority you had at least one consultation with him –”

  “Yes, he and his partner Stasia visited on a fortnightly basis. It was part of the compulsory guidelines to make sure Stasia was comfortable with their pairing and her move into investigating more serious crimes.”

  “And – how did that go?”

  “Captain Carmichael has my reports. I suggest you request them from him if you require documentation.”

  Morello sighed. He shifted in the chair.

  “Was there something else?” Taggart asked.

  “I’m going to level with you. It’s my belief that Detective Graves has been involving himself in extremely criminal behavior, and I’m grasping at straws to prove it. Can you tell me anything you had during your sessions with Graves that might –”

  “Oh. I see.” Taggart turned away from his desk and went to the window. He stood there with his back to Morello. “There was one afternoon where Detective Graves came in without his partner. She was occupied elsewhere. He had some things to get off his chest.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “I can’t tell you. It was told to me in confidence.”

  “Please, I’m begging you. Just nudge me in the right direction. I won’t include you in any of the paperwork. No one has to know I was here.”

  Taggart looked back at him. “Are we off the record then?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “Graves had a number of ailments.”

  “Such as?”

  “He confessed he was prone to alcohol abuse. And he had fantasies about women who weren’t his wife.”

  “Anything more serious than that?”

  Taggart nodded. He walked back to the desk and sat down in his chair. “Do you mind if I…?”

  “Oh no, go ahead,” Morello said. “Refresh your memory.”

  “Thank you. Since this is so sensitive, I just want to be sure I don’t word it incorrectly or…”

  Morello breathed in deeply. Worked to stay patient.

  “Okay,” Taggart said. “Yes, I remember now. During their first week together Graves got drunk in front of Detective Rhine, and tried to assault her.”

  “What?”

  “He said he didn’t remember much of it, only he knew he went too far. And he was grateful that Rhine didn’t dob him in.”

  “I should think.”

  “He said he was in love with her, but didn’t know if she felt the same way. He wanted me to ask her when he wasn’t in the room.”

  “Did you ask her?”

  “There was never a chance. I think he got over his infatuation with time. He said he respected her more than his own feelings.”

  “Is there anything else?” Morello asked. “Any confessions to crimes or regret over doing things that were illegal or…”

  Taggart shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s all.”

  “Okay. I suppose, if you’re sure…”

  “Afraid so.”

  The men stood from their chairs.

  “It was good talking with you,” Morello said. “I appreciate you being so candid. Especially, given the late hour.”

  “My pleasure, Special Agent.”

  They shook hands.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Taggart said.

  “No, no, that’s fine. My partner’s waiting for me downstairs. I’ll be fine.”

  Morello opened the door.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Taggart murmured.

  “What?” Morello said turning.

  “You know, it’s probably nothing,” Taggart said. “But there was something Graves mentioned once that seemed to have him upset. If only I can remember the…”

  “Upset? You mean like –?”

  “13th Avenue! That’s it. Something happened there he wasn’t too proud of, I think.”

  “Really?”

  “I hope that adds to your investigation.”

  “It might do. Thank you.”

  Taggart nodded.

  Morello stepped out of the office, walking down the hallway, glancing over his shoulder. All of a sudden he had the strangest feeling. A little flicker of light, buried in the back of his mind.

  “13th Avenue,” Morello muttered aloud.

  He was sure he’d heard the name before.

  CHAPTER 43

&n
bsp; They were too late. Too late to prevent the inevitable.

  Shattered glass and puddles of blood welcomed Stasia and the Captain as they approached the front of the convenience store. Carmichael held her back as he rushed forward inside. Stasia heard his wretches and growling as he tried to resuscitate the dead within. Stasia waited until he was hurrying back to the door again before trying to enter. Carmichael shook his head. “She’s gone. Bastard blew her brains out.”

  “Any sign of him?”

  Carmichael shook his head. “Car’s not here either. He must have moved on.”

  The Captain then began making calls, alerting local authorities to the crime scene. Stasia moved away from him while he was on the phone, heading for the car.

  “Stasia – what are you?”

  She was in the driver’s seat, closing the door.

  “You stay here,” she said. “Wait for the others.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to face him. Alone.”

  Carmichael tried to protest her, but Stasia was already on the road, driving away from him. She knew it wasn’t a rational decision. She knew she wasn’t thinking clearly. The night had worn her down and now like Graves, she was coming apart too.

  It didn’t take long to find where she needed to go.

  Barely two minutes down the main road, the car’s headlights reflected across a tall white sign with big black letters, pointing to a road on the right.

  13TH AVENUE

  Stasia smashed her foot on the accelerator.

  Frosty winds screamed outside the car as she made a right and proceeded up the hill and around the bend. Stasia jetted through the trees’ overarching shadows. Just a little ways ahead, the outline of a vehicle began to emerge. Once close enough, the recognition stabbed Stasia in the gut.

  It was Wendy’s.

  She pulled up behind it, got out and raced over, peering through the glass.

  Empty.

  She looked towards the side of the road and saw there were two sets of heavy footprints in the snow, along with a trail of blood.

  They were headed for the trees.