* * * * * * * * * * * *
Peter was still missing. Jessi was in the hospital. Jack was dead. Edward sat at his desk with his head held by his fingertips. They didn't expect Jessi to make it; she'd been shot in the chest two times. Edward couldn't get over that he could see the fingertips of Jack holding the door. How the hell had he shot her? They didn't find Peter. He was probably roaming the woods.
If Jack hadn't shot himself in the face, they could question him. They could've given him a lighter sentence in return for the boy. Any details would be helpful. Had the boy ever been in that shack? Had the boy shot Jessi? Had he escaped and given Jack a run for his money? A tidal wave of volunteers were wandering the woods like a flash flood crashing between the trees. He hoped they would find Peter, but it seemed like his luck was starting to run out.
He was thinking about all these things: Jessi in the hospital, Jack dead, and Peter lost and alone in the woods. His mind was a flurry of worried thoughts. He massaged his temples slowly, mindlessly staring at his desk. Suddenly, he realized there was a new report. The beheaded man that had been found in the woods near Chance's burned home; he wasn't Chance. His name was Russell Tyler Holmes. He was twenty-two, had pasty red hair and green eyes. He had been working as grocery bagger when he went missing. His parents' names were Dolores and Michael. He drove a yellow VW bug, which was recently towed from a Chinese food restaurant. Russell appeared to be a real flaky guy; he'd applied to at least seven different colleges in the last three years. The kid had taken out many a student loan, but he'd never completed any degree. In fact, by the look of his transcripts, he'd flunked out of all of the colleges that he'd attended. Before Edward called the parents, he decided he'd call the grocery store and see the last time he went to work.
"Hello. Is the manager available?"
"This is her. What do you need?"
"Can you tell me, what was the last day Russell Tyler Holmes showed up to work?"
"Oh gee, Russell hasn't been around for a while. Couple months at least? He just stopped showing up to work. Lots of people do that. Bagging groceries isn't exactly a career type job. People don't stick around."
"I think you have misunderstood me. My name is Edward Darbonne. I'm a detective. I'm trying to figure out the last time anyone saw Russell.. Do you know exactly which day he stopped working?" Edward asked. As soon as she said the date, he sucked in all his air. It was just a week before the fire. Russell, just like the others, had his toes snipped off. His arm had been broken. In addition to that, he had been beheaded.
I am back on the case. The body wasn't Chance.
So far, at the cop's house, Helen had her toes snipped off and her arm broken. Russell had his toes snipped off, his arm broken, and he was beheaded just outside the home. The third victim, John Doe, had his toes snipped off, then allowed to heal. His arm wasn't broken, and he wasn't beheaded, but he had been shot in the face. When Edward spoke with Russell's parents, he found out the reason why they hadn't reported him as missing was because they didn't know. They had had a very strained relationship.
Helen had no contents in her stomach at the time of death.
Russell's last meal was Gatorade, granola bars, and cookies. Edward rubbed his hands together and sat at his desk. He was making actual progress in this case.
Each clue gave him new leads and new questions. Could his last meal have been at Chance's house? Did Jack give Peter to Chance? He hopped in his car and drove back down there to check the burned remains of the pantry. The pantry hadn't burned quite as badly as the rest of the house. The door had been closed, and the firefighters had gotten there before it had been fully consumed by flames. It was still burnt up; the floor was dark and soot-covered. But the shelves had melted Gatorade bottles, and it seemed granola bars and cookies and crackers were plenty. Best guess, Russell had been here. He took off right before the fire; hell, maybe he lit the fire. He managed to get a half mile down the road before Chance caught him and decapitated him. A large task force of cops and volunteers walked the woods around the house, but they didn't find any other bodies. Either Chance had hid them better or there weren't any more in the woods.
Chance, where the hell are you? Do you have Peter?
Chapter
Eighteen
Jasp was in her black Lexus, driving down the road at a fast clip. She was furious Basel was locked down in her basement. How dare he? How dare he touch her cats and go through her things. She couldn't stand it. She barely slept, tossing and turning around her bulging pregnant belly. The baby kicked repeatedly and she had nightmare after nightmare of Chance trying to cut it out of her belly. Chance was dead. Get the hell out of my dreams.
Dru and Arnold asked her if she had seen Basel and she just walked right out of the house. Hopped in her Lexus and went for a drive. Life sucked. She couldn't find her dad. They hadn't made a ruppie. Chance was haunting her dreams. Basel would kill her cats. Everything led back to Lucas. He was supposed to be holding her hand and having this baby together. Chance had stolen from her. She only met Lucas because of her cats. Those were his rooms. His cells. That was their place. Basel was tainting it with his stupid ugly body. He was ruining everything. She was gonna kill him. But not down there; she didn't need any more memories of men down in her cells. That time of life was over.
Chance still haunted her thoughts. Almost more than Lucas. He had been such a scary man. Why couldn't he be obsessed with someone else? Perhaps if she had been able to love him back, things would have gone differently. Then Lucas would be alive. Even killing that stupid bald man hadn't helped. She still constantly watched over her shoulder. He was dead. She burned him in that house. She did it. He was dead. Time to move on.
She turned down the long country road. The gold ring with the little white stone caught her eye. What would Pierre think of her now? In a few minutes, she'd be driving past Chance's house, past the house where Lucas was shot to death. The burned crumbled remains of his house. The same place where Lucas exploded over and over again on her face. She wasn't even sure why she wanted to go there so badly. That memory never stopped replaying. She pushed the gas, ready to fly past the burnt building. Tears streaked her face as the charred roof came into view.
She braked. If she looked inside, perhaps the memories would have less of a grip on her soul. Her brakes squealed and her car slid as she parked in the driveway. Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. She popped open the door and snapped it shut. Police tape wrapped around the house. She peeked in the broken windows. There was the crisp, charred couch. He wasn't sitting on it anymore. It's really over. Chance is truly dead. Lucas is completely gone. It's over.
"What are you doing?" A booming male voice carried out to her ears.
Flustered, her face flushed red. Was it obvious she was crying? "I saw all the police tape. I got curious."
"I'm Detective Edward Darbonne. Do you know who used to live here?"
"Um, no. A cop? I drive by occasionally. I saw a cop car here a few times. I didn't realize you guys were still investigating. I was just curious. I'll head out." Jaspierre smiled briefly and walked towards her car.
"What was your name?"
"Danielle," she said with the smooth ease of someone who lies about who they are on a regular basis. She regretted leaving the house without a wig. She had sunglasses on, at least. She reached out her hand and shook his. His hand was warm and firm.
"Do you know anything about the fire?" he asked, sizing her up.
"Not a thing. I'm sorry I bothered you." She walked to her black Lexus.
Edward stared at her car. "You drive a Lexus?" She nodded, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She needed to leave and fast. Her door opened and her ass hit the seat.
"See you around," she said, and the door snapped shut. The car whirred to life and she drove off. Fuck. Why did he care about my Lexus?
* * * * * * * * * * * *
He had already taken down her plates. This Lexus had plates that were liars. This
was the Lexus. The plate-stealing Lexus. He'd bet his badge on it. By the time he finished running her plates, she was long gone.
Edward had never considered Chance's partner was alive or a female. But that chick knew something. Many things, likely. He had hopped in his car and tried to catch up with her. He planned to pull her over for speeding and take her in. Then he could fingerprint her and properly question her. She knew Chance; she probably knew where he was right this moment. She was the connection. She had the Lexus. Her plates came up as a yellow VW bug owned by a man named Charles McFallen. Somehow, he didn't think they were stolen; it looked like she had made her own plates. Now he had to find her. He searched through everything he knew about Chance to find a woman he might have had contact with and not killed her.
Meanwhile, Jaspierre took her car in to be painted. It went from black to canary yellow. She made sure they removed the Lexus symbols when they painted. She replaced them with Mercedes-Benz logos. Like anyone would know it was a Lexus now. Fear was racing through her. What did that cop know about her? She considered dumping the car, but it seemed to be a poor choice. Better to hide it in plain sight. She parked it in her garage with all her other cars. It was a shame; that Lexus was one of her favorites to drive. Now it would sit, like a cloth-covered paperweight. That car wouldn't see the light of day for a long time. She had proper plates put on it too. She went out and bought a new silver Honda minivan with cash under one of her fake names. Time for a new favorite; besides, she was going to be a mommy.
Chapter
Nineteen
Basel had been missing for a few days now. Dru wasn't sure if Jaspierre had run a sword through him, like that poor man called Russell who had been roasted in the fireplace, or if he had disappeared for another reason. Either way, he didn't care. Arnold and he did the bulk of the work. Basel cooked the meals. Microwaved food would have to do for now.
Basel missing did prove to be problematic, in a more pertinent way. He was the man who found the puppies. What would they do when they ran out? Arnold was excellent with the patients. Four puppies had undergone successful ear transplants at this point. The first printed bone transplant had gone poorly. Dru didn't know enough about how to attach muscles and tendons, and removing the first leg bone had killed the puppy. His second attempt had gone much better. The dog couldn't walk or move his foot, but he didn't die. Improvement. He read several medical studies on hip transplants and he thought he knew how to adjust it. The third attempt went even better than the first two. This leg had weak movement. Jaspierre hadn't specified if the legs needed to be fully functional, so Dru considered this success enough. As he traded out bones for the four viable puppies, he hoped to make improvements and at least one of them would be able to... hop. Or walk. Didn't matter to him. The point was to look like a mashup, not to have a puppy eat carrots.
Nearly fifty puppies had died during these experiments, but progress was being made at a rapid pace. More puppies, more progress. Some dogs just didn't have the constitution for the surgeries. Ten more puppies were in various states of experimentation, with one ear transplanted and the other ear dead, or not yet transplanted. Three of those puppies had undergone different leg surgeries. Most of these were exploratory so Dru could learn faster. Arnold was catching on. Because ears were so much faster to print than bones, Arnold had even successfully attached one on his own. Progress was a beautiful thing. If one puppy healed well, they could start on the second leg and they would have to chop the tail, and the first ruppie would be complete. It would be the official prototype, and they could improve functionality. Jaspierre would be delighted to hear this news.
Dru thought about Jaspierre. She was definitely pregnant. He liked that she had given him this opportunity to work for her, but he didn't like that he had no real way to control her. Basel and Arnold fell into place. They both preferred and respected Dru as the boss. Jaspierre did not. Jasp seemed to think she was the boss. Yes, it was her plan to build a ruppie – her money, her house – but he daydreamed more and more often about killing her and taking over her home as his own. How hard would it be to be her sole inheritor? Just a few slips of paper. Or, if convincing proved too difficult, then he could forge those documents, or he would bend her to his will another way. Men like Dru didn't love other people, but Jasp would learn to love him. Then they'd marry, and he'd control her assets. Then he could slit her throat if needed, depending on the circumstances. Well, it was an easy approach worth trying. Besides, weren't pregnant women desperate to have a man by their side?
Dru stood in the barn and massaged the rabbit ear on the puppy. With Basel gone, they did have a shortage of puppies. They had ten left to experiment on before they had to go find more. It wasn't too hard to buy them from puppy mills, and he probably could buy a handful of bitches and a male and make 'em himself. He had no patience for birthing puppies, though. Waiting for births created a supply and demand problem anyway. Then, to top that off, the puppies would have to grow to a surgery-able size. The sweet spot was right around three months old. They would be just past weaning, and yet still about to grow in giant spurts. Growth was important. Children heal so much faster than adults because of this intense growth. Puppies were the same. If the rabbit-shaped ears, legs, and tails had adhered by month four, his theory was the puppy could still easily learn to walk or hop, whichever it chose. And grow. These pieces being printed could grow and change with the puppy's body. At least, they were supposed to.
Jaspierre opened the door and waved at Dru. "Hey! How's it going? Are we getting close yet?"
"Hello, good looking. Yes, we're doing great," Dru said. Maybe that was laying it on a little thick.
Jaspierre wrinkled her forehead. "Uh... okay...." She coughed. "Okay. So show me what you've got."
Dru walked her to the top three puppies. "This one here is A2; he's a lab mix. Both of his ears have transplanted well. I don't know if they will ever grow fur, but they do seem to stand up like a proper rabbit's ears." The chocolate-colored dog had pale-skinned rabbit ears perked up out of its head. "He also has had the bones transferred on his back right leg, and so far, he has tolerated that well. He's not attempting to walk on it at all, but that's to be expected. It is likely he'll be lame for at least a while when the other back leg is transferred. If you'll look here at the skeleton of a rabbit, the biggest problem we will be encountering is a rabbit's spine curves downwards to its tail, placing the hip joint at the floor. Dogs, on the other hand, have a straighter spine, and their hip joint is up by their tails in the air. Even though we can change the physical shape of the leg, the spine itself is going to have to curve to the proper shape.
"To plan ahead for this, we have already started spine training the dogs with a harness six hours a day. Basically, we ratchet the spine into the bent shape we need and leave them like that. It appears to be working, as you notice A2 already has developed a significant curve compared to a regular dog."
Jaspierre nodded. A2 licked her fingers and seemed to be in a pleasant mood. "Have you been making sure they are socialized? Pain monitored so they aren't uncomfortable? I'd hate to fulfill my mother's dreams and have it be a wild, rabid creature." Of course, that would probably have pleased Mother considerably; an attack ruppie.
Dru took Jasp's hand and led her to the next cage. He said, "Of course they are tame. We are careful to make the transition as comfortable as possible for them. Is the baby kicking?"
Jaspierre released his hand and held her belly. Her little one squirmed within her. "Just a little. What is this one?"
Dru stood behind her and slid his hand to hers, the little kicks thumping through her skin. "May I?"
She grew flustered and stepped away. Red heat flew to her face. What was this? "Just the puppies," she said with a snap.
He backed off. Perhaps tonight she wouldn't fall for him, but soon. He had to tone it down a little. "This is B5. She's a smaller dog, if you notice. A terrier, I believe. Both her ear transplants have gone remarkably well. She is about
to have her back right leg done. The printing is finished this afternoon. She is in remarkably good health and handled the ear transplants better than any other dog yet. I have high hopes for her recovery."
"And this is C12. He is a Spaniel. He is a medium-sized dog. His ear transplants have gone well also and he has had both back legs done. At this point, he is completely lame. He generally drags himself around by his front two feet. He hasn't rejected the legs, and that is the important part. His spine, if you see, is curving much slower than we would expect, so it is difficult for his hips to operate the new legs. We have been spine training him for a maximum of twelve hours a day in the hopes of speeding it up. He has physical therapy every three hours to increase blood flow and improve the strength of the legs. He almost looks like your mother's vision."
Jaspierre caressed her huge baby belly and stared at C12. The fleshy pointed ears were beautiful against the dark fur. His legs did look rabbit-ish, but the way he sprawled with them made it difficult to see what they would look like when he walked or hopped. "Very good. Thank you for your efforts on this." She walked back to the house wondering, Would Mother finally be happy?
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Chance sat in the red truck, chomping down chips. He stared into the binoculars and waited for her car to show up. He had been waiting a couple of hours and was considering heading home and trying again tomorrow. Come along, Jaspierre, with your big round titties leading your bouncy ass around. Let's go, little lady. I would love to see your face. It's the love of your life waiting for you. Always for you. Only for you. The skinny chick in the red dress had already been disposed of. When he meant he was waiting for Jasp and only for Jasp, he meant waiting to have babies with her. Besides, he was pretty sure it wasn't cheating if the lady was dead. Obviously, he couldn't suddenly become celibate just because he loved Jaspierre.
Jaspierre's Descent (Jaspierre Trilogy Book 2) Page 11