by J. D. Sloane
He dropped his radio and then glanced at the long ranch-style building in front of them as a wave of dark smoke wafted towards the street in a wide arm, shaking his head as two of his officers came around the corner with what looked like a fresh round of prostitutes.
“So what is this?” He asked, his face pulling into a tight grimace. “Some kind of a sex ring? Who’s been inside?”
“I don’t think that’s what this is,” Jessica said as she saw O’Neill tip his eyes in their direction. “It looked like a club to me. The women I talked to seem to be members, not pros.”
“A sex club? What kind of sex club? Jesus! What is this fucking city coming to anyway?”
Jessica opened her mouth to speak and then closed it as O’Neill walked over, a tight rush of resentment filling her as the chief turned to him instantly, as if she had vanished.
“O’Neill, what’s the story in there? Lewis said that a man was murdered?”
“Looks like it,” O’Neill said, flicking his eyes in Jessica’s direction as he shook his head. “Unless he somehow managed to carve up his own face while tied to a chair. And then decided to slit his throat from ear to ear.”
He paused and then lowered his voice as he looked around, rubbing his hands as he spoke.
“The victim’s Judge William Husk. I guess he was a regular here.”
The chief flinched and then let out a quick sigh as his entire body seemed to sag at once.
“You’ve got to kidding me.”
“Nope,” O’Neill said, taking a step closer. “This place looks like it was a very high-priced playground for some pretty influential people. And no one wants to talk about it. And I mean no one.”
“This just gets better and better. I heard it was Ronan White who cut him up. Is that confirmed?”
Jessica felt herself blush as both men glanced in her direction and O’Neill cleared his throat.
“By at least a half dozen witnesses. And, get this, two of the girls inside said that one of his associates was the Channel Six weather girl, ah…”
“Alicia Gale?”
“That’s the one,” O’Neill said, pointing to her. “They said her hair was different, red, but it was her all right. I guess we should call off the hunt on that one. Won’t her parents be pleased?”
“Do we have any idea why he did it?” Welsh asked, his voice low and irritated. “Is anyone talking about that?”
Jessica glanced up as she saw another emergency van pull up out of the corner of her eye, the scrolling lights rolling over the crowd of people in front of them in waves of red and white.
Don’t say it, she thought as O’Neill looked through his notes quickly for a moment. Don’t remind them of Dad’s long and colorful career with this guy. Don’t give them any excuse to start treating you like the fragile little newbie they already see you as…
“Husk was the Judge who put him away,” she said, her eyes shifting from O’Neill’s to the chief’s without wavering. “I’m sure he held a grudge.”
The chief looked her over and then let out a disgusted laugh, shaking his head.
“If that guy’s holding a grudge, Nolan, then I say this whole city is in for a world of hurt. Let’s just keep that information to ourselves for now, all right? Do we have anything else to go on? Anywhere they might’ve gone?”
“We’re running down what we have, Chief, but it’s not much. It looks like his crew burned all the exits when they left. Most of these people got out through the windows.”
O’Neill looked through his notes and then nodded.
“They did leave a note on the wall though. The word ‘Where’ with a question mark. And something else. It looked like someone’s initials. H. A. H.”
“Anyone know what that means?”
“No one I talked to. But they were the same initials they left on Husk. Carved them into his face.”
Welsh looked up, his face going pale, and then glanced over their shoulders, his dark eyes narrowing.
“No, goddamn it,” he muttered, his face flooding with anger as he snapped his radio off of his belt. “I told them to keep them out! The last thing I need is to start fielding interviews about an escaped maniac carving up judges in the backroom of some underground sex club.”
“Actually, I think it was his private room, Chief,” O’Neill said, turning his eyes in Nolan’s direction as he bit back a smirk. “From what I understand a lot of the high rollers had them.”
“You think that makes it any better?” Welsh said, his voice struggling for calm as another patrolman called to him from the other side of the street.
“Take Nolan with you and keep them out of my perimeter,” he said, making a curt gesture with one hand as he stepped around them. “And no one says anything. Not about Husk, not about the club, nothing. Absolute radio silence until my say so. Is that understood?”
“No comment’s my middle name, Chief,” O’Neill said, tapping Nolan on the arm as he nodded towards the news van that was circling the drive. “We’ll keep them out.”
Jessica trotted towards the gathering crowd of bystanders wandering out of the apartment building down the block and glanced up as O’Neill shook his head, glancing over his shoulder as the van parked in an overgrown parking lot behind what looked like the shelled out remains of a bank.
“That guy’s a fucking menace,” O’Neill muttered below his breath as he watched the chief sail past out of the corner of his eye.
“Who? White?”
O’Neill looked down at her and gave her a smirk.
“Yeah. Him too. Look I’ll handle the news crew Nolan, but you have to get these people out of here. Don’t answer any questions, just hold up your badge and move them back. I’ll be over in a couple of minutes.”
“I can handle the crew if you want.”
O’Neill passed his eyes over her briskly and then grinned.
“Not a chance. The last time they stuck a camera in your face, my old lady and I fought for a week. Just deal with the crowd. And if some reporter does ask you something remember, we see no evil, we speak no evil, right?”
“No comment,” Jessica said, turning at the corner. “I heard the chief.”
“Right,” O’Neill said, waiting for a patrol car to roll past as he glanced at her over his shoulder. “But meet their eyes when you do it, huh? The last time you talked to them you looked like a fucking cadet.”
Jessica snapped her head towards her partner as he turned and jogged in the direction of the van, her face flushing with a mixture or annoyance and embarrassment. She pressed her lips together primly, squaring her shoulders as she stepped towards the crowd and snapped her badge out of her pocket as she held up her left hand.
And the worst part is, he’s not even wrong, she thought, letting out a quick sigh as the wind whipped her ponytail across the back of her neck. I looked about twelve years old on that footage.
“All right,” Jessica said, her soft throaty voice barely raising above the roar of the sirens behind her. “I’m going to need everyone to step back ten feet. This is a crime scene. Please. Back to the sidewalk. Just step back, sir.”
She felt all the muscles in her back tighten as one of the men in the front gave her a quick once over and went on standing near the fire hydrant, cocking his head to one side as she locked her gaze on him.
“I’m going to need everyone to step back to the sidewalk,” she said, raising her voice, her eyes sweeping the crowd as she swept her badge in front of her. “Step back please! Thank you.”
An older woman in a black blouse took a shuffling step backwards and then followed Jessica with her eyes as she passed.
“It was those men, wasn’t it? The ones in the black van?”
Jessica turned as a younger woman put her hand on the older woman’s arm and spoke to her quickly in Spanish, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry, ma’am? Did you say you saw the men who did this?”
“Lady, she didn’t see any
thing,” the younger women said, turning her head. “None of us did, okay?”
Jessica stood in the flood of police lights behind her and took a step forward, ignoring the younger girl as the older woman pulled her sweater around her.
“And your name, ma’am?”
“Celia. Celia Hernandez.”
Jessica pulled out a notepad and yanked a pen out of the pages, scribbling into it rapidly before looking up.
“All right, Miss Hernandez. And what time did you see them?”
“Late,” she said, nodding as she looked back towards the building. “After midnight. They were all dressed in white. I could see them in the light.”
“White?” Jessica said, brushing her hand down the front of her chest. “You mean their jackets? Like white dinner jackets?”
“Look officer,” the younger woman said, her face struggling briefly between fear and anger before anger won the day. “I don’t know what my mother is talking about. But she was asleep before ten last night. So maybe you should just ask someone else.”
“It sounds like your mother wants to make a statement,” Nolan said, her eyes following the older woman as her daughter corralled her back into the crowd. “Miss Hernandez?”
Jessica started to follow them and then let out a quick sigh as she saw a trio of teens cross the police line at the other end of the street. She tucked her notebook away and then walked over to the far side of the blacktop, stepping in front of them smoothly as she held out her hand.
“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked as a girl in heavy eyeliner and ripped jeans slid under the yellow tape. “Back to the sidewalk, please. This is a crime scene.”
“We just wanted to see what was going on,” the boy said, holding up his phone as the older girl slid back under. “We won’t touch anything.”
“You’re right. Not from the sidewalk you won’t. Now go. And don’t make me ask you again.”
She glanced back into the crowd trying to retrace where Miss Hernandez had slid back into the throng and then did a quick double take as she noticed a flash of light from the alleyway, one of the streetlamps catching on something just above her line of vision. She raised her eyes, trying to see past the shifting school of the crowd and then frowned as she saw that it was just a man holding a phone up in the alleyway, recording the scene with a casual arrogance that infuriated her.
Not that he was the only one. Jessica looked back at the crowd, her eyes scanning past what seemed like half a dozen cell phones held up towards the scene and then glanced towards the alleyway again, gritting her teeth as the mystery man dropped his phone and gave her a wink. He snapped it back to his eyes as Jessica cocked her head around the corner and felt all the shackles on her back rise as she noticed that there was a van parked behind him. A black, unmarked van.
Jessica began to move with the crowd as she saw the man tuck his phone back into his jacket and then turned away, the glare from the streetlight outlining him sharply for a moment before the darkness of the alley swallowed him whole. She began to move faster, some sense older than instinct propelling her forward, and then shoved through the throng of bodies as she saw the van’s headlights flash once and then go dark, forcing herself sideways past the gate blocking the street.
This is stupid, Jessica thought, licking her lips as she entered the alleyway, glancing back over her shoulder as she noticed a group of people pass by the gate without stopping. There had to be at least a hundred cell phones in that crowd. This is just a case of the rookie jitters, that’s all. She blinked quickly as she passed the street lamp, the chipped brick façade of both apartment buildings illuminated on each side and refrained the urge to draw her gun as she saw the van at the end of the road, its wheels turned towards the dumpsters in front of it, as if it had been backed into place.
Can’t exactly draw a gun on a legally parked vehicle, can I? She thought, knocking on the passenger door as her hazel blue eyes scanned the windows.
“Sir?”
Jessica took a step backwards as she noticed that the windows were tinted so dark she could see her own reflection and walked behind the vehicle carefully, knocking on the back double-door as she stepped up onto the sidewalk. She pressed her lips together as she heard someone move inside the back of the van and then paused as she noticed that the plates were from another state. And that the registration had expired. Over a year ago.
“Sir?” She said, her voice gaining an octave as she glanced in the direction of the crime scene. “I just need to ask you a couple of questions. Would you step out of the vehicle please?”
Jessica turned towards the side mirror swiftly as she saw a shadow pass in the darkness and then jumped backwards as she heard the van roar to life, the tires screeching loudly as the driver threw it into reverse.
Her eyes flew open as she saw the back of the van barrel towards her and dove behind the dumpster without thinking as the bumper smashed into the corner hard enough to send it careening sideways, the plastic top popping up like the world’s largest jack in the box. She ducked down as she saw the van turn and pulled her gun as it spun back the opposite way, heading for the tight maze of alleys leading back towards the highway. Jessica fired at its rear tires as she tried to catch the license plate and then pulled her body back against the dumpster as she saw the back of the van creak open, a spatter of gunfire shredding the wall around her.
Jessica felt a white-hot wave of adrenalin rush through her as she heard the van barrel towards the corner and tucked away her gun as she got up and ran in the direction of the back alley, the van busting through the gate on one side. She grabbed her radio as she reached the gate at a flat run and looked around wildly for a short cut, hitting the call button with one hand.
“In pursuit of a suspect at the corner of Morris and Hayes. Black van, unmarked. I repeat, I have a suspect fleeing the scene at the corner of Morris and Hayes. Florida plates. I am in pursuit and need back-up now!”
Jessica paused as she came to the top of a steep sloped road leading down to the intersection and turned the corner without breaking stride, her heart hammering so hard she could barely hear over the rush of blood around her. If I can just make it to the intersection, she thought. I can get the plate. The plate is something. It’s a place to start…
“Please! Someone help…”
Jessica snapped her head towards the wall as she heard someone cry out in the darkness. She slowed to a jog as she heard it again, closer this time, and then felt her stomach drop as she saw that it was a body, slumped against the wall like a ragdoll filled with sand. She glanced towards the path leading down to the intersection, knowing that the moment the van crossed the road she would lose sight of them forever and started to jog down it quickly before turning around, every natural instinct in her body crying out in revolt.
“Please? I’m shot! I’m shot, I’m shot…”
Jessica ran towards the body as she heard the voice begin to break and felt guilt rush through her like a blast of ice water as the teenage boy on the ground looked up at her in a fit of terror, his hand raising in the darkness before faltering back to the ground. Jessica knelt down in front of him as she saw the spreading pool of blood beneath him and held his hand as she grabbed her radio, screaming for help as she hit the call button.
Byron Laine unlocked the door to his third-story apartment and set his small leather suitcase inside, reaching for the lights before he stepped into the foyer. He glanced up as the familiar warmth of the hallway chandelier sparked above him and let out a sigh as he took off his scarf and gloves, pressing his hands against his cheeks lightly as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.
We all get older, he thought, blowing into his hands as he realized for the first time in several months that his fine head of brown hair was finally making the slide from grizzled to gray. That’s the way of the world, he thought turning on the thermostat with a passing flick of his hand. Except for this current generation, who I
believe will be the death of us all.
He turned on the lights to his kitchen, a warm feeling of homecoming washing over him as he took his small copper teapot off the wall and filled it with water and then scratched his beard as he looked for a cup. He rinsed it in the sink, beginning to smile as he realized that Margot’s youngest son would be returning from his part-time job soon and would no doubt be heading for the flat’s only computer after a dinner he never helped prepare or pay for. And there was no use arguing with Margot about it either, not after all these years.
It’s as if she simply refuses to see his shortcomings, Byron thought, drying the mug briskly as he reached for the tea. And why should she? The whole world has gone mad with the same disease of useless offspring.
His brow furrowed as he heard a noise in the living room and glanced over his shoulder as his dark eyes narrowed, stepping closer to the cabinet next to sink. He listened again, his head cocking towards the door wall and then raised his brows and shrugged as the room dropped back into silence, pulling the kettle off of the flame just as it began to boil.
And why should he ever work? Byron thought picking up his cup with one hand as he passed into the living room. He grabbed the newspaper he’d brought up with him and frowned as he scanned the front page. As long as we pay all of his bills. Until he finds a wife as tolerant of his laziness as Margot is I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy a moment of peace in that house…
“Hello, Byron.”
Byron felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he turned his head and tried to mask his surprise as Michael Vaughn looked up at him from his favorite leather chair, smirking at him across the end table as he brushed an imaginary hair from the top of one knee.
“Michael? Is it you?”
Michael’s expression dropped slightly as Byron smiled and cleared his throat, wringing his hands as he looked around.
“You know the security you have in this place is pretty appalling.”
“You don’t say.”
“I could’ve killed you at least five different times before you entered the elevator. I counted.”