by D. A. Brown
It was a virtual playground filled with dozens of very real looking children. They laughed and skipped rope or played hopscotch. The grass was a deep green, oak trees with huge canopies swayed overhead. The sound of children playing came from the computer speakers.
Jared felt something in his stomach tumble. Why would they need a content warning for a playground?
Jared used the mouse to move around the playground. As he passed them, the children smiled and waved. In the distance, was a swing set. A lone child swung slowly. It was only when he got closer, that he saw her. She was sitting on a swing, legs covered in white leotards that led down to black patent leather shoes. Her dress was pink and rested just above her knees. Blond curly hair fell around her face. She looked at Jared and smiled.
“Hi there, Conqueror. It’s me, Grace.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Eldon was surprised to see Shirley’s lights still on. She was an early to bed, early to rise kind of woman. On the weekends, she’d rummage around upstairs, her oxygen tank clanking into the furniture and overturning tables. It frequently woke him up an hour or two after he’d passed out from half a case of beer the night before. But he couldn’t beat the deal he got living in her basement, and the free food and money more than outweighed the noise she made or the nagging when rent was due. And for five hundred bucks a month, he could put up with anything. She rarely came down into his den, and he was reasonably sure that even if she did, she wouldn’t have the vaguest idea of what he was doing.
He dropped his coat on the floor. The room was illuminated by the light from his monitors. They were carefully lined up and daisy chained together. The servers hummed gently, their fans coming on and off to cool the hard drives. It was a lot of work to run his enterprise but it was helped enormously by the wi-fi Eldon paid for with Shirley’s money. The old bitch still watched TV using rabbit ears. Oh, the world she was missing.
He grabbed a beer and twisted off the top.The door opened at the top of the stairs.
“Eldon, are you up?”
Fuck. Go away.
“Eldon?”
He walked over and looked up the stairs. Shirley stood backlit by the kitchen light. Her thin nightgown was sheer enough for Eldon to make out her spindly frame. He looked away, embarrassed by the sight of the nearly naked old woman.
“What do you want?”
“I need some help with my oxygen tank. It’s not working. I can’t sleep.”
“I’m busy. Can’t it wait until the morning?”
“No. I can’t sleep.”
“So take some cough medicine or whiskey. I’m not coming up there.”
“Damnit, Eldon, I’ll call the fire department again, and they’ll come and then start asking questions like last time.”
Eldon set down his beer. All he needed was a bunch of firemen snooping through the house, asking questions and staring at his belly spilling over his pants like he was a heart attack waiting to happen. He hated those fuckers almost as much as the cops.
The last time she called 911, he had to talk his way out of letting them into the basement so they could check the breaker box. He’d be screwed if they saw his server setup and the pirated cable and electricity.
“Give me a minute. I have to take a leak.”
“Hurry up.”
As he stood at the toilet, he caught a glimpse of his ruddy and pockmarked face. His thinning hair stuck to his scalp from a mixture of sweat and hair gel. He wasn’t a handsome man, but he never thought he’d live his life alone, forever trapped beneath the floor of a dying old woman.
Shirley sat at her kitchen table, legs spread open with her nightgown tucked between them. She was sucking air, her boney chest heaving with every breath. Her thin fingers struggled with the tubing coming out of the top of the green tank.
“It’s not coming out strong enough.” Dirty fingernails clawed at the tank valve.
Eldon opened her fridge peered in and grabbed a Miller Light Tallboy.
“That’s my beer. Keep your goddamned hands off of it.”
“Really? You want me to help you and you’re bitching about me drinking this piss water?”
“You can’t talk to me like that, you little queer.”
Eldon swung around in one fluid motion. He’d never moved so elegantly. The bottle landed just below her right temple. He was startled by the sound it made against her skull. He expected the bottle to break but it remained intact, scraping off the thin skin of Shirley’s forehead. The contact sent her flying from the kitchen chair. Her nasal cannula ripped from her nose and snapped back against the green tank, which fell to the floor with a huge clang.
He stood for a minute over her body, surveying the nightgown wadded up above her waist. The almost imperceptible hiss of the oxygen tank and the low murmur of the television in the front room were soothing. A sliver of hair and skin clung to the bottom of the beer bottle. He wiped it off on his jeans and tipped back the bottle, taking a swig as he squinted through the amber glass into the dim kitchen light.
The office was a den of clicking keyboards, detectives chatting on the phone, and good natured ribbing. Sophia was relieved to find her unit back to full strength. The cases continued to pour in, and Pierson had no compunction about piling up the work on the desks of the detectives who were there, not the ones who were on vacation or in training. Sophia hadn’t even cracked open the latest. And then there were the three messages on her phone from Victoria Tilden. She’d been so obsessed about the Halifax case, she hadn’t returned a single phone call.
Stinson wasn’t at his desk. He was the only one not there.
“Where’s your boy?” Jimmy asked.
“I’m not in charge of him today.”
Jimmy’s tie was loose, his top button undone.
“What’s with the casual look?”
“I’ve been here since five am. Totally forgot I have court today. A little last minute catch up. ‘Sides, I fuckin’ hate ties. Hate ‘em.” He looked over at Tommy’s desk. “Seriously, where’s the old man?”
“Seriously, I don’t know.” It wasn’t like Tommy to be late. He left early on occasion, but she could set her clock by his punctuality in the morning. His desk was uncharacteristically clean. She walked over, looked around and flipped open a file lying on his desk. Inside were papers from the city on his benefit and retirement package.
“Can I help you with something?” Tommy said.
Sophia jumped. “Looking for a ransom note or something. You’re late.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Tommy threw his bag on the floor and pulled out his chair.
“Are you thinking about retiring? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The operative word is ‘thinking,’ that’s all. Calm down.”
“I hate it when you tell me to calm down.”
“Did you hear from homicide last night?”
“No, did you?” The answer had better be ‘No’ or she was going to be really pissed. She hated it when Tommy got the follow-up calls and she didn’t because she was ‘the girl.’
“Nope.” Tommy picked up his phone. “I’m going to call Ken Thomas.”
Thomas was the old timer in homicide. Sophia was lucky if she got a grunt out of him when they passed in the hallway. A hundred pounds overweight, he moved like a caboose, as though he was at the end of a long, heavy load. He was a brilliant detective, scoring confession after confession. Ken was an intimidating guy. His girth alone was impressive.
“Hey, Ken, it’s Stinson.” Tommy licked his thumb, leaned over and rubbed a smudge off of the toe of his shoe. “Yeah, yeah. Back at you, asshole.” Stinson smiled at Sophia. “So, what’s the deal on the kid? We left the office at about eight last night. Neither one of us heard from you guys.”
Sophia wanted to be on that call, wanted to hear the news, one way or another.
“Really?”
“What?” Sophia whispered.
Stinson nodded. “No kidding. So, did you hook th
e kid?” Another long pause. “You’re shitting me.”
Pierson appeared at Sophia and Tommy’s cubicles. “Come see me when he’s done.”
Not unlike grade school, a collective ‘ooh’ went up in the office.
On top of whatever Tommy was hearing from Thomas, the two of them were probably about to get an ass chewing for yesterday.
Tommy hung up. “You are not going to fucking believe this.”
“Make it quick. Pierson just called us into his office.”
“Well, I think I know what’s coming.” Stinson stood up. “Don’t you have to use the restroom before we get our administrative enema?”
“Sure.” She nodded to Tommy and they walked toward the door. She looked into Pierson’s office. “Be there in a second, Sarge.”
The two headed down the hallway toward the restrooms. Tommy looked behind him and then grabbed Sophia and pulled her into an empty interview room. He shut the door.
“So check this out.” He lowered his voice. “Barrett showed up at the house last night with his sister and all hell broke loose. The Captain got into a big smack down with the dad, accused the mom and dad of knowing the whole time where the girl was, and then the dad got on the phone and guess who shows up?”
“Who?”
“Marcus fuckin’ Burton.”
Sophia felt the bottom drop out of her case. “You’re kidding…”
“Nope. That asshole showed up and shut down the investigation – the whole thing. Sent everyone packing. I’m telling you, Soph, something is seriously fucked up with this case. I felt it from the start.”
“You remember Halifax telling us to play nice or he’d call his friend Marcus?”
“Well, fuck him. I got nothin’ to lose at this point. I’m going after that Halifax jerk-off, I think he’s involved. And I’m starting to think Burton is, too.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Well, at least not until we hear what Pierson’s got to say.”
“Oh, I can tell you right now what he’s gonna say. He’s gonna say we’re off the case, that he’s inactivating it.”
Sophia hadn’t entertained that thought. Sometimes she wanted to slap herself for being so gullible and naïve when it came to department politics. That’s why, despite his womanizing and hot temper, she loved working with Tommy. He knew the players. He always called it, every single time. He’d been around thirty years and had seen it all. He knew who the workers were, who was trustworthy and who was a climber. He never backed down from a fight – which wasn’t always a good thing – but she knew he always had her back.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Soph but you need to call that friend of yours, that reporter. You need to put a bug in her ass. This is bullshit.”
Sophia and Tommy walked back into the office.
“Ready for us, sarg?”
Pierson didn’t look up from his computer. “Is Stinson with you?”
“Right here, boss.”
Pierson was at this desk. Behind him was a wardrobe, a printer and a bookcase. Family photos dotted the shelves. Sophia took a seat at a table that sat adjacent to the desk so they were facing him. Tommy leaned on the door jamb.
“Close the door, Stinson and have a seat.”
Pierson pushed back his chair and crossed his legs. “So, I take it you both know that that child was found unharmed, right?”
“Yeah, she was with that turd of a brother the whole time. And probably with the permission of her equally shitty parents.”
“Anyway,” Pierson turned his attention to Sophia, “the bottom line here is that this case is going to be inactivated.”
“No shit,” Stinson said.
“Stinson, you have no idea where this is coming from.”
“Oh, I know exactly where this is coming from.”
Pierson uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, glaring at Stinson. “It’s an order, Stinson. You still remember how that works, right?”
“No problem, sir,” Sophia said. “We’re officially off the case. I don’t need to hear anymore.” She stood and motioned for Stinson to move.
As Sophia and Tommy left his office, Pierson pressed on. “I don’t want to have this conversation again. Am I clear?”
“Let’s go get some coffee.” Sophia grabbed the Tilden case file, her jacket and her bag. “I need to call this victim.”
“I need to punch someone in the face.” Stinson pulled on his jacket and followed his partner out the door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sophia and Tommy walked across the street and grabbed a cup of coffee at the Starbucks in the Columbia Center. They took an escalator to the second level of the atrium and found a table in a corner.
“Can you believe this bullshit?” Stinson took a gulp of coffee and grimaced. “Shit, this is hot.”
“Ok, don’t go having a damn heart attack about this.” Sophia looked over her shoulder at the escalator. “Maybe it’s just as well we’re out.”
Stinson winced again from the hot coffee. “What is wrong with you? Don’t you think David’s death is connected to this?”
“I don’t know. But I think we can stay on top of this through other channels. I need to find out who’s the lead on his homicide, and I need to do that by avoiding that ass-hat Taylor. That guy totally creeps me out. He treated me like a suspect at the scene.”
“Well, with David being an ex and all…” Stinson smiled.
“Whatever.” She took a sip of coffee. “Taylor is still an idiot.”
“I was serious about you calling that reporter.” Stinson leaned back and smoothed down his tie. “I think she needs to look into Marcus Burton’s connection with this case.”
“Well, your personal beef with Burton doesn’t make you the most credible source.” Sophia watched a woman balancing several cups of coffee on a brief case as she navigated the escalator. “I can call Shelly, but I want to settle some things first.”
“Like what?”
“Like I need to work this rape case first and give myself a break from the Halifax family. I haven’t even given the thumb drive to the homicide guys yet.”
“Yeah you might want to get on that if you don’t want to fall back into the suspect box again.” Stinson said.
“Funny.”
“Seriously, you need to get that thing to them.”
“There was nothing on it except for that one file.”
“That you know of.”
She stood up and pushed back her chair. “God, I hate it when you’re right.”
Sophia logged the thumb drive into evidence, did a quick supplemental to her follow-up report and sent an email to the homicide admin asking for a call from the case detective so she could explain their new piece of evidence. She should have stopped by in person, but all of the detectives were on a call-out. Besides, the further away she stayed from homicide, the easier it would be to avoid the temptation to snoop for the file on David’s death. It was going to be nearly impossible to find someone to talk to her about the investigation, but a detective would have to talk to her at some point, because David was in contact with her the day before his murder. She was still a cop, and if nothing else, a good witness.
Sophia’s desk was covered with case files, stacked without any thought to organization.
Her message light was bright red. Victoria Tilden had now left four messages. Sophia expected to get an earful.
The call back number rang to the women’s shelter. An employee put her on hold.
“Detective Benedetti, thank you so much for taking my call,” Victoria said.
A woman screamed in the background about ‘touching her stuff.’
“I’m so sorry, Victoria. I’ve been taken up with a few things over the last several days.”
“Yes, dear, I heard. That child and that man dying.”
There’d been a virtual blackout in the media on Grace’s disappearance, and the coverage on David’s death had peaked during an otherwise busy news day.
; “So, I understand you’d like to meet with me again and talk about what happened a few weeks ago. Can you come to my office?” Sophia didn’t want to talk to Victoria at the shelter with its parade of crazy and curious.
“Actually dear, I think it would be a good idea for you and that handsome partner of yours to meet me under the freeway, over by the feeding place. Do you know where I’m talking about?”
“Just north of James?”
“Yes. I can be there in say, half an hour.”
“Sure, but can I ask why you want to meet us there? It’s pouring outside.”
“I just must show you something, dear. I just must.” Victoria hung up.
Sophia stood. “Victoria wants to meet us across the street near the feeding tent.”
“Have a nice meeting. I’m not going out in that.” The rain was coming down in sheets.
“Come on, Tommy. She’s a little crazy. I’d like to have some company.”
“You really want me to go out there in this seven hundred dollar suit?”
“My curiosity is piqued. What could she possibly want to show us?”
“Oh for chissakes, Soph.” He opened his locker and pulled out a rain coat. “I hope you know you’ll owe me big time for this. And I’m going to drive over there.”
He grabbed a set of keys off of Jimmy’s desk. “And yeah, you heard me right. I’m going to drive across the goddamned street.”
Victoria was twenty minutes late.
“I fucking knew this would happen.” Stinson gripped the steering wheel.
“It’s not like we have anything better to do.”
“I have plenty of better things to do than wait on some nut job.”
Victims and witnesses like Victoria often lived in an alternate time zone. The rain was still coming down, but it was dry underneath the freeway. The parking lot was confined to carpoolers during the day. At night, it became a makeshift homeless camp. Mostly covered by I 5, it spanned an entire city block.
“You know it’s only a matter of time before we on-view some car prowl, don’t you?” Stinson sat with his head back and his eyes closed.