Mysterious Blood Relatives (Obscure Blood Book 3)

by Christopher Leonidas

  It was still summer so even the leaves on the ground didn’t make much of a noise as Octa stepped forward. Whoever it was, Octa couldn’t even hear them breathe, and since this wasn’t much of a place that catered to different animals for shelter, Octa heard his fair share of silence. It was of no use, searching around in the darkness. If the shooter had wanted him dead, he would have died by now.

  Octa needed to think quickly. Well, I didn’t shoot them. Their bodies can stay. Ballistics won’t match my gun. But my fingerprints on the one I put on the ground could be problematic, he thought.

  Stepping back out of the trees, Octa retreated. He had to get away, but he couldn’t leave the bodies here. Suddenly, an idea came to his mind. A few months ago, there had been a case where a murder had been tipped off by a payphone by the side of the road not far from the warehouse, and they hadn’t been able to ID the anonymous tipper, because there was no surveillance on that strip of the road. Bingo!

  Taking his car keys out of his pockets, Octa fumbled with the keyhole of the passenger side door, and finally managed to get the door open. Walking to the forest pretty much made him an easy target, but Octa still scrambled in while keeping the trees within sight, and when he was in his seat, he turned on the ignition and sped out of there.

  Octa didn’t realize he had been holding his breath the entire time. Breathing out, Octa made his way to the payphone, and after making a tip that there had been some suspicious activity near a certain warehouse, he drove home.

  ***

  Octa got out of the shower, rubbing an old towel against his hair to soak away the moisture. The tip was good. He had gotten a call from Mark, the officer who sat beside him, telling him about how the warehouse had been riddled with bullets from the inside but there were no shell casings, and that there was a lot of blood but no bodies.

  Probably cleaned up after I was gone, Octa thought as his mind went back to the shooter. He had been there.

  Octa needed to think straight. This entire incident had rattled him, but at least he now knew why there were so many people after him. And on top of that, there was the case of his brother. Now that was something he couldn’t understand at all. After Lucinda’s death, Octa had at least been happy when he had found out that Juan was in a mental institution, but now he needed to know all the details. It had been some time since he had last contacted Juan. Octa needed to know how his brother had escaped.

  Going to his bedroom, Octa pulled out a t-shirt and clean jeans from the almost-bare wardrobe, all marks of Lucinda gone. He had given away all of her belongings to a charity after she had died.

  He couldn’t wait for morning. He just needed to get to the institute and find Juan before he committed another atrocity, but right now Octa needed to rest. God only knew how long it had been since he had had a good nights’ sleep. But as he was too tired, maybe he could rest his eyes without thinking about all his nightmares.

  Octa didn’t sleep in his room anymore, so taking his pillow, he ambled downstairs to the living room, where he finally flopped on the couch and laid down.

  Just for a while… Octa thought, closing his eyes.

  The next second he opened his eyes, it was daybreak. He had slept the whole night without even really dreaming. Maybe I should try this more often. Who knew near-death experiences could be so therapeutic when it came to fixing your sleep schedule, Octa thought as he rubbed his face in his pillow. Just then, his mind zipped back to his aunt and John. He had completely forgotten about them. He didn’t even know if they had reached home safely. That woke Octa right up.

  His morning routine only took him a few minutes and soon he was on his way to office with a buttered slice of toast in his hand. Reaching the station’s parking lot, Octa searched for John’s car and sure enough, there it was in the far corner, neat and clean. Octa breathed a sigh of relief.

  He was just getting out of the car, when suddenly he heard a noise from the station entrance.

  “Back in the car! They are in pursuit of the suspect!”

  Octa looked up to see Chief Albany running down the stairs with officers behind her.

  Octa stood bewildered. “Which one?” he asked as the officers raced passed him to their own squad cars.

  “The couple’s case. The one who killed that couple in the east neighborhood. He was working on killing another couple when someone looked in through the window. He ran out and took the couple’s car. We’re in pursuit on the freeway. He’s taken a hostage. Their child is with him. Go now,” Chief Albany all but screamed.

  Hopping back in his car, Octa sped off after the other cars as they turned on the sirens and raced to the scene.

  Octa gritted his teeth, “Damn it, Juan,” he yelled.

  Some of the fleet was shortly on the freeway and soon, Octa saw the other police cars in pursuit of the Red Nissan Altima roaring down the road. Hell, there was even a chopper in the air. The chatter on the radio was going crazy; they were all trying to nab the driver without hurting the hostage, which meant they couldn’t use the usual tactics for stopping the suspect. The car hit 80MPH and was still accelerating.

  Octa yelled as he swerved through traffic, trying to get to the front. His car was careening down the freeway with no regard to anyone else’s safety. The radio chatter noted down the car’s license plate, but they had no clue as to the identity of the suspect. Octa’s brain was going haywire. What would happen if they finally stop Juan? The chief would know everything and would then probably connect Juan to Lucinda’s murder.

  With the car in sight, Octa stared in horror as the red Altima swerved, performing a 180-degree turn into the other lane and raced head-on into oncoming traffic. The cars veered off to avoid collision, but Octa knew with the speeds the car was travelling, he was soon going to hit someone. Then something happened. The suspect’s car slowed down.

  Octa heard someone yell over the radio. “What’s the top speed on the Altima?”

  Stopping by the side of the road, the passenger door opened as the squad cars swung to the other lane and slowed down. Suddenly, a child no more than eight, popped out, slammed the car door shut, and starting running away. The Altima took off and pulled back into Octa’s lane, speed rapidly increasing. One squad car remained so that the officers could get the child to safety, but the others mounted a rapid pursuit. Now they could stop the suspect without hesitation.

  The chopper whizzed past the Altima. This was getting serious. They had been in pursuit for a chunk of time, and the whole freeway would be at a stand-still if they didn’t take care of this soon enough. Suddenly, Octa’s worst fears came true as he heard someone on the radio confirm the order to shoot the driver. The chopper sped forward and turned.

  Although later Octa understood that there had been nothing slow about the chase, at the moment, he saw it all unravel in slow motion. He saw the side door of the chopper slide open as the squad cars backed off a safe distance. The man in the chopper readied his M16A4 rifle and aimed at the tires. He fired at the front, hitting the left tire. The rubber instantly shredded.

  “Damn it, Juan! Stop running!” Octa yelled as the car only slowed down a little, but didn’t stop.

  The driver was panicking and Octa knew it as the car swerved again, got into other lane and headed toward him. The chopper zoomed toward the squad cars, which were veering to the sides to avoid collision. Already the people in the civilian cars behind them were looking scared. Other people were swearing and milling around in confusion. The sniper in the chopper aimed and was just about to shoot again when it happened.

  The shredded tires finally gave out, the car skidded, and flipped by the front. It rolled over violently, parts of the car flying into the air before coming to rest upside down and catching fire. Octa screeched to a stop and got out of the car. He ran toward the wreckage, his hand reaching for his gun. He was aware that other officers were running up with their own weapons drawn, along with a few carrying fire extinguishers.

  Smoke rose up in the afternoon sky
as flames engulfed the car. Octa couldn’t see anything inside, but he had to try to save Juan so he could kill him himself later. The officers approached cautiously as the flames increased. The driver’s side wasn’t visible, but Octa could see someone’s silhouette. He heard someone radio for the fire department, but paid little attention. All his concentration was on Juan.

  The smoke and fire were too much. No one could survive in that. A couple of officers hesitantly moved ahead, spraying the car with the fire extinguisher. The driver’s side flames reduced a little and taking the chance, the other officer’s reached in and grabbed the body.

  The man inside struggled and even with the noise, Octa heard his labored breath. His face was unrecognizable, but not unlike many of the other burn victims the detective had seen in his life. The man turned, grabbing Octa’s shirt and Octa saw his brother’s dark, bloodshot eyes stare back at him. His face was burnt too badly to be recognizable, but his eyes reminded Octa of his mother’s, even if they were bloodshot.

  “My son! It was my son. Please tell me he’s safe,” Juan whispered hoarsely.

  Octa’s chest constricted. “That wasn’t your son. You took him from his parents. You never had a son.”

  Juan’s grip somehow tightened on Octa’s shirt. “All I did was for him.”

  “You killed Lucinda,” he whispered.

  Juan blinked. “I don’t regret it. I did that to try and save my son.”

  Octa felt like someone had just shot him. Lucinda’s loss had been too much for him, especially as he had lost his daughter some time before, and now Juan saying that he didn’t even regret killing his sister-in-law.

  Shoving Juan away from him, the other officers carried him off. Octa looked back at the car, now completely engulfed in flames.

  Should’ve let him burn in there, Octa thought bitterly. Even with all the hatred Octa had for his brother, he was still his blood. Deep down, in a weird way, Octa had waited all this time for Juan to come to him, because he had wanted Juan to apologize for what he had done. At least then, Juan would have died by Octa’s hands with a clear conscience.

  Suddenly, an officer called out, “We’re losing him.”

  Octa rushed to the site where the officers were rendering what aid they could to him. Juan’s clothes were completely burnt and stuck to him, and Octa saw the agony on his brother’s face. His whole body shuddered, and with one last exhale, Juan stopped breathing.

  Chapter Seven

  “Octa?”

  Octa startled, his train of thought broken by the Chief’s voice. He stared up at Chief Albany, who nodded toward her office and went away.

  Rubbing his eyes, Octa stood up, grabbed his coffee cup, and walked off to the chief’s office. The chief was sitting behind her desk, her chin resting over her entwined hands.

  “Sit!” she ordered.

  Octa obliged. He wasn’t in the mood to talk. The image of his brother’s empty eyes remained as the highlight of the whole disaster. Because Octa couldn’t tell anyone that the man who was driving the car was his brother, he couldn’t get away and after processing it for over four hours, he was sick to his stomach. First, the fire department couldn’t get through, because of the backed-up traffic, which meant that as Juan lay there on the ground, dead, Octa had to divert traffic so the fire truck could get there.

  As he was the lead investigator on the case, he had the job of writing the report on this latest development. An obvious victory as the murderer was now dead. The last victims were still alive and their son was with them, although all thoroughly in need of serious counseling.

  I still need to go there and talk to them, Octa thought as he blinked hard, trying to clear his head. He noticed the chief gazing silently at him.

  “Yes, chief?” he asked.

  The chief lowered her hands to a file on her desk and pushed it toward him. Hesitantly, Octa took it and opened it. It was a report on DNA results.

  “This DNA was taken from the crime scene of your wife’s murder.” she said bluntly. “It was difficult to get, though. This DNA was on the knob of the back door and matches a sample of semen that we took from the bed cover in your spare room.”

  Octa looked down at the result. It was a Y chromosome test.

  “We got this report after a month. You know the drill.” The chief shrugged. “Imagine my surprise when I found out that this DNA is a direct match to someone we already had in our system.” She raised her eyebrows. “Someone related to you.”

  Snapping the file shut, Octa flipped the folder back on the desk. “Yeah, so? My brother jacked off in the spare bedroom and was around the house. Not really a big deal. After all, he’s my brother,” he said defensively.

  The chief pursed her lips. Reaching back, she took another file and handed it to him. Octa’s heart beat hard against his ribcage. He opened the file and in it, there was a DNA match between the samples taken at his house and the samples of DNA taken from the scene where the couple had been murdered. It was a match of 99.996%.

  “Detective, I will ask you one question and you better give me a straight answer,” the chief said, her voice low. Octa swallowed hard.

  “The man who died on the freeway today was your brother,” she stated. Octa didn’t move, just stared at the file in his hand. “The man who killed your wife, who murdered two other people, kidnapped their son, whose whereabouts we don’t even know as of yet, and was about to do the same to another family, that was your brother. Did you know all along?”

  Octa remained silent.

  The chief reached over to her computer and clacked on the keyboard. “I went through the whole report, detective, and I couldn’t find anything about him in your statement. You didn’t tell anyone that your brother had been staying with you for the past month, that he had a gambling habit, or that he was a paranoid schizophrenic, who was going under treatment at the Adult Medical Health Services Hospital for violent episodes.”

  The detective fumed. He hadn’t known about the last part until a while back and then it had been too late.

  “Detective, were you covering for this man?” the chief asked, her voice still menacingly low. Octa couldn’t tell her that he had planned his own revenge before his depression over losing Lucinda had taken him on a dark road.

  The chief closed her eyes and spoke, “Detective, I need an answer.”

  Octa raised his head. “I...” He couldn’t speak. His head swirled.

  The chief gritted her teeth and shook her head.

  “The DA knows, Octa. He wants me to have you arrested for obstruction of justice, hiding a suspect and God knows how many other charges,” the chief growled.

  Octa couldn’t say anything. His brain was still in shock over what had happened. The chief sighed sadly. She stood up and extended a hand. “Badge and gun, now.”

  Octa stood up and reached for his badge and gun and handed both to her. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

  “Detective Octa, as of this moment, you are suspended from the police department,” the chief announced.

  ***

  Octa took a sip of his tea and looked out the window. He tried remembering how Lucinda had loved this house so much, probably because they could see the train tracks from their bedroom window. Many a time, Octa would wake up from his slumber to see Lucinda staring out as the train trundled past, and he’d wonder what she was thinking.

  Did she think of running? Did she want to hop on that train and never see him again? After their daughter’s death, he often found her staring out the window, her eyes following the train as it passed by. Now he couldn’t even have that. The track was recently decommissioned, his daughter was gone, Lucinda had been cruelly taken away from him and now even his job was in jeopardy.

  He wanted to take revenge on Juan for taking Lucinda away from him, but with him now dead, Octa was stuck in turmoil.

  Well, at least I have my mother’s case to look into, he thought.

  The warm tea provided little comfort against the troubles he’d had th
e whole day, but Octa drank on anyway. He needed something to provide him with some strength at the moment.

  After the chief had taken his badge and gun away, Octa felt naked under the gaze of his fellow officers. He knew they didn’t know anything about what had happened, but with the case being so high profile, he knew it was only a matter of time before they’d find out. Afterwards, he’d gone to find John, but the man had been testifying in court all morning about a case, so with nothing to do, Octa had no choice but to go home.

  He felt the familiar headache returning, but the tea helped keep it at bay. He put his cup down. He needed to find Juan’s belongings. He needed to find out the whole story. How much of Juan’s past life had been a lie? What else had he done that Octa now had to pay for?

  Octa stumbled as he trudged up the stairs and without even thinking, he went straight to his room. Flopping down on Lucinda’s side of the bed, Octa passed out.

  ***

  Lucinda snuggled in the crook of Octa’s arm as the morning sunlight streamed in through their bedroom window, her hair on his shoulder and her hand on his bare chest, lazily tracing his ribs. They’d been in bed all day yesterday, only getting up to get something to eat or drink, or go to the bathroom. Octa was content as he breathed in Lucinda’s flowery scent and bending down, he kissed her on the head. He heard Lucinda’s giggle.

  “Well, I’ll be. I think someone is becoming a bit of a romantic. This is the first time you’ve kissed me without me making you,” she said, her nails dancing on his skin.

  Snaking his arm around her waist, Octa pulled her against him, pushing her up so that they were face-to-face. “I’m never a romantic, Luce. But for you, I can try.”

  Smiling, Lucinda kissed him.

  “And besides, with the little one preparing to make an entrance into our lives, I need to cherish all the time I can get with you,” Octa carried on, placing his hand on her belly. She wasn’t showing yet, but Octa knew it was only a matter of time.