The Jefferson quarterback is trying his best to ignore him, but he’s not having success.
“Oh,” adds Angel, “in case you don’t want the invite and decide to invite your friend behind you with a hand-off, we’ll accommodate him with reservations for the very ground he stands on!”
The ball is hiked and the quarterback hands the ball off to the running back behind him. The twins hit the running back almost simultaneously. The running back grunts from the hit; it’s a four-yard loss for Jefferson.
“We got plenty more of that; the party’s just beginning!” Jesus says.
Jefferson is outmatched by Washington. Final score: 35-10; Washington wins. Washington is now the top-ranked school in high school football in the state.
The Flower
It’s Monday morning; the Hartford police department has officers and detectives scurrying left and right in this busy building. Detective David has the Meriden police department’s autopsy results for Riley Klein on his desk. He compares her murder to Austin Lee’s and sees that they’re exactly alike. When he first heard of Austin’s murder, he had a hunch that the murder was committed by the very same person who killed Hailey Peterson a few years earlier. Now he has Riley Klein’s murder to compare to the others. He happens to see photos of a familiar flower that he recalls seeing at the Peterson crime scene. Inside in the box sent from Meriden PD is a CD of the Korey Moore interview. He puts it into his desk computer to view.
After studying Korey Moore’s interview of the night Riley Klein was killed, Detective David looks up the number of a local florist. He wants to find out the significance of this flower that keeps popping up at murder scenes.
“Cunningham Florist; John Cunningham here, may I help you?”
“Good morning. Detective David of the Hartford Police Department.”
“Yes, detective, what can I do for you?”
“If I provide photos of a certain flower, would you be able to provide me some information on it?”
“Sure. I know pretty much everything about most flowers that you could name.”
“Great. I have your fax number already. I’ll fax a couple of photos to you now. Thanks.”
From his office bursts out Captain Woods, yelling at the top of his lungs, “Jordan, my office, now!”
Everyone in the department in hearing distance looks at Detective Jordan with concern. Whenever the captain yells out like that it’s never a good thing. Detective Jordan nervously walks toward the office. Inside, Captain Woods is sitting behind his desk and Lieutenant Roberts is sitting in front of it.
“Have a seat, Jordan,” Captain Woods says.
Detective Jordan takes a seat as instructed.
“Jordan, all your friends call you Tariq, correct?” says Woods.
“Yes.”
Woods reclines comfortably. After Jordan’s reply, he pulls himself close to his desk, leans forward and looks Jordan squarely in his eyes.
“Well, Jordan, I’m not your friend! You’re a smart-ass, a know-it-all! I don’t like your type, Jordan! You’re moving up the ranks faster than anyone has in this department’s history, and I’m about to put the brakes on your ass! I would probably be calling you sir or boss within a few years unless you screw up!”
During the tirade, Lieutenant Roberts never says a word, but just sits there observing both men with his arms folded.
“Well, young man, I gotcha!”
Jordan goes from being nervous to confused. Woods smiles.
“Are you ready to get your ass tightened up?” That was a saying that Woods’s father used to say to him and his siblings whenever they were due for a spanking because of bad behavior. Just before that belt struck his rear end, his father would say, “Go ahead and tighten your ass up, here comes the belt!”
Captain Woods pulls out a sheet of paper, and holds it up by his head.
“Right here, I have records of outgoing calls from this department. The department has a strict rule about excessive personal phone calls. Well, my soon-to-be-suspended friend,-and I use the term ‘friend’ loosely…”
Captain Woods slides the sheet of paper to the other side of the desk in front of Detective Jordan. Feeling confident, Woods slides his chair back, places his feet on top of the corner of his desk, and rests his folded arms onto his stomach.
“On that paper you can clearly see calls made to your residence during your working hours, with outrageous time lengths. This investigation has officially started.”
Jordan picks up the paper from the captain’s desk. The paper weighs less than an ounce, but to Jordan, it feels like an elephant. He knows that the captain has him dead to rights, and he doesn’t know how the hell he will get out of this mess. The captain is right; it does show numerous calls made to his home. However, it never shows where the calls came from. It only shows the department’s main number for every single call. Jordan’s quick thinking finds his loophole: these calls could have been made from any phone in the building, according to these records.
“Investigation?”
“You’re damn right; as a matter of fact, I want a full investigation,” a now confident Jordan says.
Captain Woods’s feet are now on the floor. That confident smile has been wiped away with confusion of his own. Roberts doesn’t know what to make of Jordan’s turn of emotions.
“I want to know who here having an affair with my woman!” says Jordan.
Captain Woods’s mouth is wide open from shock. Jordan’s frown fills up his face with anger; he points at Captain Woods.
“I’m holding you personally responsible, Captain, for finding out who the coward is! I won’t tolerate anything less than satisfaction!”
Detective Jordan has flipped things on Woods. This isn’t how Woods had planned it. Captain Woods looks at Lieutenant Roberts for some type of support, but Roberts just shrugs his shoulders. This is a can of worms no-one wants to open up. Captain Woods takes a large gulp that is stuck in the middle of his throat. Woods begins stuttering his words as he answers Jordan.
“Tariq, I’m not sure what to say. Why don’t you take a couple days off with pay and straighten out your home?”
Jordan has his hands on his hips, while staring at the floor. As he’s shaking his head, Jordan says, “I can’t believe she’d do this to me! We’re to be married in a few months!”
He agrees to the few days off. Jordan heads out the door of the office and walks to his desk to collect a few things.
Jordan keeps up his angry appearance. He is careful not to over do it, but he knows he has to keep up the mean mug until he’s out of everyone’s sight.
Once he gets to his desk, Detective David doesn’t say a thing to the visibly upset Jordan. He figures now isn’t a good time to be nosy about what had happened. He just watches Jordan squat down to collect a few imaginary items.
Detective Jordan, still in a squat, looks around to see who may be watching him. Once he realizes that the only person that can see him is his cubicle partner David, he whispers, “I’m taking a few days off, and I’m buying a cell phone.”
At the end, he gives Detective David a wink. Once Detective Jordan is done fake collecting his items under his desk, he stands up with the same frown he’s had since walking out of the captain’s office.
Now that Jordan is in his car, out of everyone’s sight, he looks into his sun visor mirror.
Damn you’re good! he thinks to himself.
Buzz, Buzz.
“Detective David, Hartford police department, may I help you?” David says into his desk phone.
“Hi, Detective. John Cunningham of Cunningham Florist.”
“Yes, John, thanks for getting back to me so fast. What do you have for me?”
“What you have here is the Monkshood flower.”
“Okay. Is there anything special about it?”
“It’s not a flower you’ll want to receive from anyone. Some call it the devil’s helmet or wolfs bane. It’s a warning that a deadly foe may be near.”
David leans back in his chair; he has just heard news from the florist that he didn’t expect to hear.
“Thank you, John, you’ve been a big help.” He hangs up his phone and stares at the names Austin Lee, Hailey Peterson, and Riley Klein. He now knows that there is a serial killer loose in Connecticut, and one who is bound to strike again. All three homicide scenes had the Monkshood flower left behind. However, he’s not exactly sure where to begin with capturing this monster.
Korey Moore
That Monday evening, Korey Moore is recuperating from her injury. The only way she gets any sleep is by taking a medication called Eszopiclone. Even then, she’s afraid to close her eyes. However, she knows that she needs to get herself together if she wants to be a normal teenager. Her dad is working, and her mother has just completed a load of laundry.
“I need to go to the P.T.A. meeting for your little brother’s school. Wanna come?” Mrs. Moore asks.
“God, no, Mom. I’ll be fine until you and Mikey get back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, mother.”
Mrs. Moore and 10-year- old Mikey head for the door. Mrs. Moore says, “We’ll be back in an hour, okay?”
Korey says, sarcastically, “Have fun.”
As they leave, Korey’s cell phone rings. It’s her friend, Nicole. Korey answers the call while walking from her front door to her bedroom. Her bedroom, which she shares with her sister, is directly straight ahead from the front door, the only bedroom on the first floor.
“Hey, Nicole.”
“Hi, how are you?”
“I’m okay, I guess. I’m still a little shaken up,” Korey says.
“I understand. I’m at home hanging out, bored,” Nicole says.
Korey is pacing in her bedroom, with the door open as she talks to Nicole. “Did you do anything over the weekend?” Korey asks.
“Brenda Clark had a house party Saturday.”
“Get out, I totally forgot! How was it?”
As Korey passes by her bedroom door, at the end of the hall is the masked killer, standing still, unnoticed by Korey.
“These idiots who weren’t invited crashed it!” Nicole is saying.
“Really?! So what happened next?”
“A fight broke out, the police were called. A big waste of time!”
Korey has an odd feeling and decides to back up and look down the hallway, only to see no one there. She figures it’s only her nerves getting the best of her.
“So whatcha doing? Is your sister home from school?”
“No,” says Korey, “she’ll be home next week. I miss her so much. I’m just going to watch some TV until everyone gets home.”
“You want some company?” Nicole asks.
“Sure, come over. I’m sure one of those ridiculous reality shows that Hollywood force-feeds us is on.”
Korey hangs up. She closes her door to her room, exposing the full-length mirror behind it. She looks in it to admire her features.
She says out loud, “Man, I wish I had gone to that party! I sure could have used some fun, even if it was crashed.”
Korey begins to play with her long dark brown hair and strikes a few of her sexy poses in the mirror. She continues talk out loud.
“The boys always see me in my school uniform; I would love for them to see Ms. Korey Moore in her sexiest outfit!” She chuckles.
“Eat your hearts out! Then again, how can you look sexy with a big bandaged up arm? Ugh!”
Looking at her arm quickly brings her back to reality.
Korey opens her bedroom door; the hallway is clear. She walks to the living room.
“I’ll bet that we’re the only house on the street that doesn’t have a flat-screen TV yet. Jeesh, dad, it’s not 1990. Come to the present!”
Korey heads towards the kitchen, puts a bag of popcorn into the microwave, walks over to the TV, grabs the remote to turn it on, and sits down on the sofa. Korey’s parents have a tube television in the family living room. In it, she sees the reflection of the killer walking toward her from behind. Korey screams in terror and begins to throw anything that she can put her hands on: picture frames, her brother’s Tonka truck, the house phone. She slightly dazes the killer, which gives her time to run for the front door. However, she’s not able to get it open before the killer slams it shut. She goes to the kitchen to grab a knife; however, the killer is able to fight her off with the sickles. Korey manages to get to the back door, but the killer closes it. Korey starts to run upstairs. As she gets near the top, she doesn’t notice the toy her baby brother has on the stairwell. She loses her balance and begins to fall backwards. She lands in the arms of the killer.
The masked killer says, “Tag, you’re it.”
Korey’s eyes close.
Nicole arrives and notices the front door slightly open. Once she walks in, she sees the body of Korey Moore at the bottom of the stairwell, with a Monkshood flower resting on top of her body. Nicole screams at the top of her lungs.
• • •
Earlier that Day
“Good afternoon, Jade, come in,” Dr. Buckley says. Jade Hughes arrives in Dr. Gavin Buckley’s office for her appointment.
“Jade, it’s been several years now since you’ve legally changed your name. Would you prefer if I address you by the name you’ve been using since you started high school?”
“No, I’d rather continue to be Jade Hughes in this office. I need to understand who I am here, and Jade Hughes is where all the confusion began.
“I totally understand that way of thinking. So what’s on your mind?”
“I have an unusual weekend coming up.”
“How so?”
“On Friday, I’ll going to a slumber party, and then on Saturday, I’ll be going shopping in New York with the very same girls of the slumber party.”
“Wow, that’s going to be tough for you, I’m sure. Will any individuals be in attendance that you don’t care for?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think that you can control your anger? You’ve been doing so well, at-least most of the time.”
“I’m not sure, but I believe so. I’ve been able to channel my anger very well. I even perform that acupressure point you showed me, to calm myself when I experience anxiety.”
“That’s great! I’m pleased that it helps you.”
“It would be so easy to take a pillow to suffocate someone. However, I will not. I want to be better than that; plus, I’m looking forward to going shopping on Saturday morning.”
“That’s good to hear. I believe you deserve some fun,” Dr. Buckley says. He opens up his desk drawer, pulls out his prescription pad and writes out an order for Jade. He gets up from his desk and hands her the script.
“I don’t usually write anything for you, but here’s something to help calm you if necessary. It’s Benzodiazepine. It helps with anxiety and also will help you sleep. I wrote it out in your new name, instead of Jade.”
Jade folds the prescription and places it in her pocket. “Thank you. However, I doubt if I’ll need it. I truly believe I have everything under control. I have some good people around me who are a great influence on me.”
That comment about good people around her annoys Dr. Buckley. He backs away from Jade and leads her out of the office. Jade notices the doctor’s facial expression change, but she doesn’t pursue it. As she walks out, she tells him good bye until the next appointment.
Hello, Connecticut, I’m Rossi
It’s Tuesday at Washington High, lunch time in the cafeteria. Brandon has brought the newspaper to school to view the statewide high school football rankings. On the front page is a picture of the killer’s masked fa
ce, courtesy of the Meriden police sketch artist. Brandon, Chris, Dominic, Angel, Jesus, Lucy, Brooklyn, Ida, Vicki, and Lauren view the drawing. Dominic looks at Ida; she sees him and gives a look back as if to ask, What? Vicki notices Dominic’s look as well. The boys go their way to a table, and the girls go their way to another.
“So, Vicki Lynn, what’s up with this mystery guy you’ve been hiding?” asks Ida.
“I’m not hiding anyone. We talk on the phone from time to time, but nothing more.”
Ida turns up the corner of her lip and rolls her eyes, because she’s not impressed with Vicki’s answer. Ida then turns to Brooklyn.
“So, Brook, did you dump that chauvinistic jerk Chris yet?”
“Ouch!” Lucy says.
Lauren and Vicki eagerly await Brooklyn’s response. She puts one hand on her hip.
“Yes, he’s a jerk, but only I can say that! Yes, we are still together, barely. I get the feeling that he’s seeing someone else.”
“An asshole like that? Most likely,” Ida says.
Ida knows that Lauren and Vicki both feel uncomfortable whenever Chris’s name is mentioned; however, they don’t know about the other being uncomfortable. While the other girls are talking, Lucy puts on her headphones to listen to music that Brandon downloaded for her. Even though she’s Hispanic, she’s grown to love slow rhythm and blues. Reggaeton is in continuous rotation in her mp3 player, and now she’s listening to songs like “I Belong To You” by Rome and “You Don’t Have To Hurt No More” by Mint Condition. Even though the cafeteria is crowded, she can see Brandon on the other side of the room as if she has tunnel vision. She’s in her own little world.
• • •
That afternoon, Angel walks into the principal’s office. Mrs. Marshall, the secretary, is working behind her desk. Mrs. Marshall is in her mid-50s, but has the energy of a 20- year-old. She can run the office blindfolded.
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