by J. J. Franck
* * *
Fred walked out of the upstairs bathroom with a washcloth in his hand. He handed it to Don, who was leaning up against the wall near the stairs. Don took the washcloth and rubbed the back of his head. Granted, he had been tired, but this was not the kind of rest he needed. He didn’t know what he had been hit with—whatever it was was hard and had left a large gash on the back of his head, along with a goose-egg. Don had a hard time focusing as his head throbbed.
“Did you see who hit you?” Fred asked.
Don shook his head. “He must have been in the bathroom. When I got up here he hit me from behind.”
Fred just shrugged. “Did you find anything at her office?”
Don looked up at Fred, having a hard time understanding what he meant, and then he understood.
“Thanks for caring,” he said. The sarcasm in his voice was clearly noted.
“You okay?”
“It doesn’t count now,” Don snapped and then glanced around.
“Our girl got a threatening call at work.”
“That’s interesting,” Fred said.
“Other than that I didn’t learn much. It was basically a dead end,” Don said as he wiped the back of his head. And then he looked up at Fred. “What time is it?”
Fred glanced at his watch “Ten twenty-two.”
Don just shook his head. “I’ve been out for twenty minutes.”
“What happened?”
Don rubbed the back of his head and then winced in pain. “Don’t know. Heard something up here. It sounded like it came from her bedroom, so I guess I got caught off-guard. Then the next thing I know you were standing over me.
“I should take you in to be checked out.”
“There’s no time for that.”
Fred walked over to the side bedroom. “The whole place looks like it’s been gone through.”
“I wonder if they found what they were looking for?”
“I called it in. Our boys will be here soon.”
Don leaned forward. He shook his head and then tried to get up. He stumbled as Fred quickly grabbed his arm until Don steadied himself. It took a few minutes, but once he got his bearings he turned to Fred.
“Maybe we’ll get some prints,” he said in a way that clearly indicated he doubted that any would be found.
Don was still a little dazed. Once he got his bearings he quickly added, “We could use a break in this case,” he said and then, as if remembering something, he looked at Fred. ”What did our guy at the Hilton have to say for himself?”
Don quickly stooped down as a pain shot through his head. Once he recovered he stood up and tried desperately to focus on what Fred was about to say.
Fred just shrugged. “It was a wasted trip. He never heard back from Ms. Van Buren.”
“What’s his connection with her.”
“Claims he’s an old college friend.”
“Maybe his wife thinks differently,” Don added, still somewhat in a daze.
Don was feeling a little cynical about Raven at the moment. He feared he at first had this ideal picture of her as being the sweet, innocent person caught up in things beyond her control. But, after listening to the phone messages, he feared Raven wasn’t so innocent after all. She clearly was messing with the wrong guy. Don was curious about the female’s voice on the threatening messages that were left. He wondered now if it was possibly Senator Maxfield’s wife. And his disappearance a week ago might just be like the senator a few years back hiking on the Appalachian Trail, when in fact he was bedding down with his mistress in some foreign country. Don couldn’t be sure until he talked to the senator’s wife and heard her speak. But if it wasn’t her, then who else possibly could it be?
Don came to the realization that Raven could have been sleeping around. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, the reality of the situation was hitting home. It would explain a lot of what was happening around her and the torching of her car. The vandalism of her house might just be connected with all of this.
Fred watched Don for the longest time before answering. “Not married,” was all he said.
“Girlfriend?” Don asked, looking at Fred for a clue as to the game he was playing.
Fred laughed. “He’s a priest,” he said and then took in Don’s reaction before continuing. “Seemed pretty shook up about the news. He was going to head over to the VanBuren’s house to see if he could be of assistance to them.”
“So we’re back at square one,” Don said.
The car pulling up out front caused both to turn and look at one another. Fred glanced at his watch.
“Might be our guys, finally.
Don was about to descend the stairs but almost lost his balance. Luckily Fred was nearby, and he quickly grabbed hold of Don to steady him. Don shook the sensation while rubbing his head.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Do I look okay?” Don said as he leaned up against the side of the stairs.
“Maybe you should have that checked.” Fred pointed to the cut on the back of Don’s head.
“No time,” Don snapped.
Don walked into the bathroom. What he needed to do was splash some cold water on his face to snap himself out of the hazy feeling he had.
Fred in the meantime quickly walked down the stairs to the front door to let the team into Raven’s house. As he glanced outside, neighbors were taking notice of the commotion at the house.
Once Don felt halfway alive again, he slowly descended the stairs. Fred was busy talking to the forensics team dusting the place for prints, while others checked for clues. Don walked into the living room and stood in front of the portrait and just stared at it for the longest time. For some unknown reason he couldn’t take his eyes off of Raven VanBuren. It was like she was trying to tell him something. He had never felt this way about a victim, always trying to keep his distance and have an open mind about the investigation. No matter how she lived her life, she did not deserve to have it end the way it did.
Fred walked up behind him. He poked Don to get his attention. Don slowly turned. His head still hurt, and he was starting a migraine that began at the base of his neck and fanned out to encompass his temples. He felt like his head was in a vise.
Fred looked at Don’s bloodshot eyes. “Do you want ice for your head?”
“No, I’m fine.” Don lied.
“You don’t look so fine,” Fred said.
Don turned to Fred. “What part of fine don’t you understand,” Don snapped. He was tired of trying to reassure his partner that he was okay.
There was no time to seek medical attention, and he had been hit enough times in the head to know the pain would soon subside. It may take an hour or two, but he would endure. He just didn’t need to keep telling Fred he was okay.
“What’s gotten into you? You can’t stop looking at that,” Fred said pointing to the portrait. “Remember, she’s our victim, so what’s your problem?”
“I don’t know. Maybe in another life I knew her.” Don laughed while shaking his head. He almost wanted to cry, he ached so much thinking about Raven lying on the coroner’s slab at the morgue.
Fred laughed. “You had another life?” he said.
Don was trying to shake the headache from grabbing hold. He turned to a tech. “Do you have any aspirin with you?”
The tech reached in his case and tossed the bottle to Don, who quickly opened it and took three. He popped them in his mouth and swallowed them without water. Don then turned back to Fred.
“Haven’t you ever felt a connection with someone?” Don asked and then paused a moment before continuing. “I don’t know, there’s just something about her.”
“You’re forgetting, she’s also dead.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Don snapped. “God, I haven’t forgotten.”
Don regretted answering the phone last evening at the bar. He regretted ever setting eyes on the vision of Raven VanBuren. Because now that he had gotten to know who she
was, she was embedded in his head and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. On the one hand, he had this idealistic vision of her and on the other hand, he had to come to terms that the fine upstanding person he would have liked to believe she was, was a myth clouding his judgment. Even in his sleep she came to him. He didn’t know how long this would last or if he’d ever stop thinking about her. All he knew was, Raven VanBuren was having an adverse affect on his mental state.
Before leaving, Don bent down and picked up the doily that was lying on the living room floor. It reeked of cinnamon oil but he didn’t care. He just wanted a piece of her to remember her by.
Fred just shook his head, not believing what Don had just done. It was against company policy but then who was going to miss a little doily from a crime scene?
Chapter 8
As Don walked out of Raven’s house the sun hit him like a ton of bricks, making his head feel like it would explode. He slowly tried to focus and hung onto the railing while he took in the neighborhood. He tried to be careful as he descended the porch steps for fear he was one misstep away from going to the hospital for an overnight observation.
Fred had only worked with Don a little longer than a month, but in that time Fred knew Don’s behavior in the past twelve hours was not normal. A part of him figured it had a lot to do with his girlfriend kicking him out of their apartment. Moving back into his mother’s place couldn’t have helped matters either. But for Don to be so wrapped up in the victim in this case was incomprehensible even for him.
The drive to Raven’s parents took long enough for Fred to get caught up on what Don found out at the Hart Senate Office building where Raven worked.
As they pulled onto the street that Raven’s parents lived on, Fred waved an acknowledgement to a car that passed by.
Don turned to him. “Who was that?” he asked.
“The priest friend.”
“That was nice of him to pay his respects.”
“That is what priests do,” Fred said, looking over at Don.
Arlington City was more impressive than Falls Church in that it was more historic in nature. The houses were older. They all had their own sense of character and were each meticulously maintained not by their owners, but by a lawn service that the owners paid dearly for.
The VanBurens lived in a classic Colonial two-story brick home with a wrought-iron fence that separated it from the neighbors’ property. The fence was in a style no longer available, and Don figured this type of fencing had been expensive to install even by today’s standards. Don pulled up to the three-car garage and parked the squad. Raven definitely came from a well-to-do family. He wondered now why she even chose to work for a living when it was clear there was no need to. Usually young socialites, once they had their coming out party, married some young up-and-coming yuppie. Their goal in life was to produce offspring to put credence on the myth that they were a loving family.
Don turned to Fred. “Did you have time to check out the father?” he asked.
“Just that he was chief of surgery at Inova Fairfax in Falls Church, but I think he’s retired now.”
Don quickly got out of the squad and hurried up the path to the front door before Fred could say more. He rubbed his temple as he rang the doorbell. He half expected a butler to answer, but instead the lady of the house opened the door. Don knew now where Raven got the deep, intense eyes and olive complexion. Mrs. VanBuren was an older version of her daughter and every bit as beautiful. Don just stood there with his mouth open, and for the longest time he was unable to speak.
Don could tell the woman had been crying, and his heart went out to her and the pain she must be enduring with losing her only child in such a violent act. Once the introductions were made, Don and Fred were led into the study, where they waited for Dr. VanBuren, who was busy upstairs talking on the phone they were told. Don assumed he was making arrangements for their daughter’s funeral, but then it hadn’t been officially confirmed yet.
Mrs. VanBuren sat on the sofa and then glanced up, as if remembering her manners.
“Could I get you something to drink? A coffee, tea, or soda?” she asked politely.
Don would have loved to have said yes but knew that would only prolong their time there. Being there was a formality. He had a few questions for Raven’s parents before going to the coroner’s lab to get the official report on cause of death.
“No, thank you,” Don said as he walked over to the mantel and stared at the pictures that were displayed. He didn’t care what was on her answering machine. Deep down he wanted to believe that Raven was not the type of person to sleep around with another woman’s husband.
There were a couple pictures of Dr. VanBuren with a stethoscope around his neck and Raven at his side. As with the portrait at Raven’s house, Don was mesmerized by the vision of her. Even as a young girl in her teens, she was strikingly beautiful. Don wondered why she never married, because she had to be almost in her early thirties by now. It was a question he would have liked to ask Raven’s mother but didn’t dare.
Fred continued to watch Don. He didn’t know what to make of this new development in his investigation skills.
Don turned to Mrs. VanBuren. “Your husband’s a doctor?”
Fred appeared puzzled, as this was a fact that he already knew.
“Yes.”
Fred stepped forward between Don and Mrs. VanBuren, more as a way to sidetrack Don and what he was doing. Fred turned to Mrs. VanBuren and quickly asked.
“Did you know she had been getting threatening calls?”
All she did was shrug her shoulders. “She may have mentioned it.”
Don turned suddenly and stared at Raven’s mother for the longest time. “Let me get this straight,” Don said, looking at her as if not believing what the woman had just said. “Your daughter tells you someone was threatening her and you don’t advise her to report it to the police?”
Fred glanced over at Don, surprised at his sudden outburst. He no longer was engrossed with the pictures on the mantel.
“Raven said it was a misunderstanding. That the person had her confused with someone else.”
“Did she say who?” Don asked.
“No. But she wasn’t concerned about it. Otherwise, I would have advised her to contact the police.”
Don accepted her answer and then looked over at the mantel again. He turned back to Mrs. VanBuren and then asked, “What was she like?”
Fred just stared at Don. Mrs. VanBuren was taken aback by the question. All Fred could do was clear his throat so as to get Mrs. VanBuren’s attention just as Dr. VanBuren walked into the room.
Mrs. VanBuren didn’t answer Don’s question. She just turned to her husband. “These detectives are here to talk to us about what happened to Raven,” she said with raised eyebrows that puzzled Don for a moment.
It was as if it were a signal between the two, but what it meant, neither detective knew.
Fred cleared his throat. “Let’s get this straight, she hasn’t been positively identified yet.”
“But it was her car,” Mrs. VanBuren started to say but then was cut off by her husband.
“Yeah, who else could it possibly be,” Dr. VanBuren said almost like he dared them to believe otherwise.
“I’m sure DNA will prove who it is. Until then we have to assume it’s your daughter,” Fred said.
Don turned to the doctor. “How could your daughter afford the place she lived in?” he asked. “It’s pretty ritzy for a single woman.”
The doctor shook his head and just stared at Don as if not believing he’d asked such a question.
“What does that have to do with what happened to my daughter?” he snapped.
Mrs. VanBuren quickly scolded Don with a look that could have killed. “She had a good job.”
Fred stared at her for the longest time and then frowned. “How could she possibly keep up the payments?”
Both parents seemed a little perturbed by this line of questioning.
It was Dr. VanBuren who motioned to his wife not to say more.
“My wife’s parents left Raven a large trust. Anything else you want to know, I think we should have our attorney present.”
Mrs. VanBuren held up her hand as if to stop her husband. “Harry, that won’t be necessary,” she said as she turned to Don, while Dr. VanBuren just glared at Fred.
“I will not have you imply my daughter was kept,” he snapped and then took a deep breath while trying to regain control of his demeanor. “She was a good person. Raven worked long hours for the Senator.”
Don glanced at the pictures on the mantel and then at Mrs. VanBuren.
“What do you know about Senator Maxfield?”
“She was not sleeping with him, if that’s what you’re asking!” Dr. VanBuren snapped.
Don was surprised at Dr. VanBuren’s bluntness about his daughter’s personal life. He would have liked to believe what he said about his daughter.
Mrs. VanBuren laughed and then quickly cut in. “I think to understand their relationship, you have to know that Willie was married to Raven’s best friend.”
“Point being?” Fred asked, with a mocking laugh that didn’t sit well with Raven’s parents.
“I raised a good, moral daughter,” Mrs. VanBuren snapped while looking sternly at Fred. “She didn’t sleep around. Senator Maxfield and Raven were working on,” she suddenly stopped when she saw the look on her husbands face.
Dr. VanBuren turned to his wife quickly and looked sternly at her. “Beatrice!”