A Life Removed

by Jason Parent

  “Did you check the trunk?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get everyone canvassing the area now. The suspect is Carter Wainwright. He is injured and believed to be on foot, still in the immediate vicinity. Detain anyone you see for questioning.” He lowered his radio. “Let’s go back into the other room. Pimental, I want you to walk us through everything that happened in there.”

  When they filed back into the room, a couple of techs had spread black powder over every surface. They were busy lifting prints. Someone had tossed a blanket over Doug, but he still just sat there, looking completely out of it.

  Maura was standing in the far corner, talking to some of the officers. Aaron exchanged a glance with her. He was trying to listen in on her conversation when Marklin grabbed his arm.

  “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  Aaron started by telling them about the scene at Ricardo’s house. He noticed that Maura was listening intently, as well as the two officers with her.

  At one point, Marklin held up one hand and stepped closer to Aaron. “Are you… high? Your pupils are dilated, and you’re sweating.”

  “They might have slipped me something.” Like a piece of Brian Temple’s heart.

  Marklin huffed. “And you didn’t think to mention that? You don’t even really know what you saw, do you?” He jammed a finger at Aaron’s face. “You fucked up this time. If we lose Wainwright, it will be your fault.”

  Beaudette cleared her throat, giving Marklin a look that was almost threatening.

  Maura ran over and slammed her palms into Marklin’s chest. “You fucking prick!”

  Marklin’s eyes widened. He started to stutter a response, but Maura spoke over him.

  “He just went through hell.” Fresh tears wet her cheeks. “While tied up, beaten and helpless, he had to watch his partner die. Then… it was so horrible… they forced him to eat a piece of his partner’s heart.”

  Aaron grimaced. He had planned on leaving out that part. He knew it was only his imagination, but he swore he could feel the chunk of heart sliding around like a slug inside his stomach.

  Marklin and Beaudette gawked at him with looks that blended shock, sympathy, and disgust.

  “Even after all that, he managed to get free,” Maura continued. “He came back for me. That monster”—she pointed at Ricardo’s body—“was, uh, just about to stab me when your officer shot him. He saved my life.”

  “Maura—” Aaron started, blushing.

  “No. Don’t stop me.” She jabbed her index finger into Marklin’s chest. “I owe him everything, and so do you!”

  “Ms. Fleurent—” Marklin began.

  “You shut your damn mouth!” she screamed. “If it was all left to you, I’d be dead by now. ‘Not his MO.’ Isn’t that what you said?”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Fleurent,” Marklin whispered.

  Beaudette touched the woman’s arm, but Maura slapped her hand away. “Ms. Fleurent, you’ve been through a lot. Now it’s our job to piece the rest of it together. Please come down to the precinct and fill out a statement, or better yet, come talk to me when you feel up to it, so we can close this matter out.” She waved over one of the officers. “Officer Bradley, please take Ms. Fleurent to the ambulance for medical attention.”

  Maura flashed a smile at Aaron and cast Marklin a surly glare before she nodded and followed the officer out of the room.

  Beaudette turned to Aaron. “You did well, Officer Pimental. Get yourself to the hospital, too. Your eye is going to need some attention, and your neck doesn’t look so good, either. Afterward, get some rest and come into the precinct tomorrow, say two o’clock. A shooting and as many deaths as this, IA’s gonna have a shitload of questions. But you’ll get through. Bruce and I will have your back. Won’t we, Bruce?”

  “Huh?” Marklin seemed dazed from his scolding, but he let out an affirming grunt.

  “After the questions and the psych exam and all the other red tape, take some time off and heal up, physically and mentally. Paid, of course. You let us know when you’re ready to come back. I’ll square it with the chief.”

  Aaron nodded. “Thanks, Detective. This is all… a lot to take in. I don’t think I’m really processing any of it yet. But I’ll head to the hospital as you say. Maybe I can hitch a ride with Maura if I—”

  “The hell you will,” Marklin interrupted.

  Beaudette raised a hand to cut him off. “What Marklin means is that you have to stay away from Ms. Fleurent. She’s a material witness to your shooting of at least two of the suspects. We’ll need to take a full statement from her without any involvement from you to avoid the appearance of tampering.”

  “Tampering?”

  “We know everything you did here was aboveboard, but it’s best not to give IA any reason to question that. Those pricks don’t mind eating their own. But like I said, we have your back.”

  Aaron frowned and left the room, not really sure how he was going to get anywhere or even what he would do next. He supposed he would go to the hospital, but his wounds were already feeling better.

  Not see Maura? For some reason, that was sitting as well as a Drano in his stomach. Ricardo and Kelly were dead. Doug was on his way to the hospital and, if he survived, to prison for a life sentence. Carter had somehow defied all logic and disappeared. Still, a reign of terror had ended. He had done that. Yet, they questioned him and wouldn’t let him see someone who might understand.

  His eyes rolled back in his head as he was overcome by another surge of energy. He smiled, thinking about the new power inside him. Everything might actually be okay. But he craved more.

  After hitching a ride from a fellow officer, Aaron ended up at his parents’ place. His heart still thudded. It hadn’t slowed since he’d killed Ricardo. Knowing sleep wouldn’t come that night despite his fatigue, he got in his car.

  Aimless driving landed him back at his house. Arianna’s car was in the driveway. The glow of the TV through the bedroom window told him she might be still up. She wasn’t one to pass out with the TV still on.

  He drove up the street, pulled over to the curb, and picked up his phone. “Arianna?” He knew she had picked up, but she didn’t answer him. “Look, I know you’re mad, but I’ve had a really rough night. Can I come home?”

  After a beat, Arianna said softly, “This isn’t your home anymore.”

  “Babe, can we talk about this? Please?” Aaron’s throat tightened. “I need you.”

  “You need me?” She huffed. “Well, you should have thought of that sometime in the eight years I gave you.”

  “Honey, I—”

  The phone went dead. Aaron slammed his palms against the steering wheel. He thought about going in there anyway. After all, his name was on the lease, too. She had no right to turn him away.

  Deep breaths. One… two… three…

  When the rage subsided, leaving only contempt, he drove to a liquor store to pick up half a dozen nips of vodka to drink discreetly while he waited to be called at the hospital. He downed two on the drive over and stuck the rest in his pockets. After he was tended to and discharged, he went to the ICU. He learned from a nurse that Doug was already out of surgery.

  Officer Fortuna guarded the door to his room. “Pimental!” He smiled and removed his hat as Aaron walked up, as if he were addressing someone of importance. “Way to go tonight! It’s just a pity you didn’t aim a little higher on this one.” He laughed.

  Aaron forced a smile. “Where’s your partner?”

  “He’s got the shits.” He raised his Styrofoam coffee cup. “Gets them every time he drinks this hospital gloop. I tell him to pick up a coffee on his way in, but does he? Noooo. ‘I’m not paying five bucks for no Starby’s,’ he says. I’m not sure if he knows that that’s not what it’s called. So he spends half the night in the bathroom.” He shook his head and whistled
.

  “And you partner is?”

  “Matthews, that putz.”

  “How long do you have to babysit for?”

  “Every night this week, playing next week by ear. Matthews, too.” Fortuna yawned. “It’s already boring the hell out of me.”

  “I got something to take the edge off that boredom, if you’d like.” He pulled out one of the nips.

  “Come on, Pimental. Why you gotta tempt me? You know we can’t do that on shift.”

  “Who’s gonna know?” Aaron peeked into the room. “That motherfucker is handcuffed to the bed. He ain’t going anywhere.”

  Fortuna looked both ways down the hall then stepped closer to Aaron, his coffee cup between them. “Pour it in.”

  Aaron obliged. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Maybe I’ll stop by again for a visit.”

  “Why? To watch me sitting here, trying not to fall asleep?”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want that. Someone might want to get in there for a little payback.”

  “Now, I almost hope I do fall asleep. I tell you, if that cop killer never sees trial, I’d chalk that up as a win for the good guys.”

  CHAPTER 32

  In the few days since they had closed the cases for all but one of Fall River’s killer cultists, Jocelyn had been avoiding the press. That only seemed to encourage the reporters, who camped on her front lawn and called at all hours of the day and night. Even disconnecting the phone proved ineffective. They just knocked and rang the doorbell instead.

  Exhausted, she plodded down the hall to Bruce’s one-bedroom apartment. When she reached his door, a sense of accomplishment washed over her… until she tried to lift her tired arm to knock.

  He opened the door with one hand, rubbing his eyes with the other. “Jocelyn?” Wearing sweat pants and a stained T-shirt, he reeked of stale potato chips. “Come on in.”

  As she stepped into his apartment, she realized just how little she knew about her partner. The shades were drawn over every window. Only square outlines of light were allowed to break through the dusty haze that thickened the air. Newspapers were strewn over the kitchen counter, while others were piled on the floor. He brushed a stack of unopened mail off a recliner then the crumbs that were hidden beneath it, the origin of which Jocelyn decided against guessing. Apparently satisfied the chair was presentable, he offered her a seat.

  She plopped down, grateful to get off her feet. “Your place could use a woman’s touch.”

  “How old-fashioned of you.” He flicked on a lamp. “Why? You offering?”

  “No.” With the light on, Jocelyn got a better look at the place. The piles of pizza boxes and half-empty bottles of alcohol made the apartment look more like a dorm room than the lair of the brightest criminologist that side of the Taunton River. Not that there was much on the Fall River side of the Taunton River.

  “Hey, the first wife got the house; the second got the money.” He picked up a bottle of Scotch, sniffed the rim, then took a swig. “My third wife,” he said, raising the bottle, “gets the rest.”

  He offered her the bottle, but she waved it away. After setting it down on the counter, he dropped onto the pleather couch. “Forgive the state of the place. I don’t usually have visitors.”

  “You don’t say? Anyway, sorry for barging in like this. I had to get out of that house. The press won’t stop hounding us. Caitlyn and Steven can’t sleep. I figured if I got out of there—”

  “Then at least your family could get some rest. Makes sense, but then you came here?”

  “Yeah, I know, out of the frying pan. Yet I didn’t see any press here.”

  “That’s because I did what you should have right off the bat. I talked to them.” He scratched his thigh. “I’m old news.”

  Jocelyn frowned. “He’s still out there.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve got nothing. I don’t even know where to begin looking. It’s like he up and vanished.”

  “I know.”

  “How do you deal with it? You know, with letting one get away?”

  “He hasn’t gotten away yet. But I can’t really say how I would handle it. I’ve never failed to make a collar in a case of this magnitude. Then again, I’ve never had a case of this magnitude.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We start beating down doors: neighbors, acquaintances, landlords, former owners of his properties, other properties in his name, tax records, bank records, credit cards, phone bills, DMV records. Hell, his connection to the real Carter Wainwright. We have tons to do. You know that.”

  “I just feel like… like he’s already gone.”

  “Well, the funeral’s in two days. With any luck, our killer will be there, so that’s where we’ll start.”

  “I saw your name and face all over today’s paper,” Arianna said. “You’re a local hero… national, probably. I didn’t realize when you asked to come over…”

  “It’s okay. I understand.” Aaron left it at that. She had called him, so maybe there was something left, something they could salvage, maybe even rebuild…

  “You seemed so collected in the interview I read. But I know you, Aaron. How are you really holding up?”

  “Okay, I guess. Ricardo’s death has been tough, obviously.” Aaron choked up. “Probably more so since I caused it.” His emotions had been a rollercoaster. One minute, the notion that he had killed his best friend, who happened to be a murderer, filled him with a sense of righteousness and even something akin to happiness and pride. The next, he was wallowing in grief, not so much for Ricardo’s death, but for the hole it left in his own life.

  He thought about how to swing Ricardo’s execution—no, no, that wasn’t my fault, but tension and a hair trigger—into a play for reconciliation. Every girl’s a sucker for a wounded puppy.

  The reporters had been slow to pick up on that little nuance to Aaron’s fifteen minutes, that he’d been forced to kill his best friend. They kept calling, but they never pressed him about it. They simply asked whether he knew Ricardo. “Yes,” was always his response, if he responded at all.

  Aaron’s fifteen minutes had stretched into an hour. The phone didn’t stop ringing. Strangers appeared at his doorstep. Agents for major networks and talk show hosts sent gifts, along with exclusive interview requests. He turned them away. Fame was a novelty that wore thin quickly. Ricardo’s death was hitting him hard.

  Nevertheless, talking about the loss of his best friend to Arianna, his ex-girlfriend, was not his idea of cathartic. He wondered if she’d called out of concern or if she just wanted some juicy details. Still, he would say what he needed to say to get her back, or—

  “I’m sorry. I know it must be hard for you. I’m still here for you, Aaron. I wouldn’t have called if I wasn’t. I’m still your friend if you want me to be.” Arianna sounded sincere, as if she might even care. “The wake is tonight. Are you going?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You think that’s a good idea?”

  Aaron’s fingers tightened around the phone. “He was my best friend, damn it. You know that. He was misled. Nothing has changed how I feel about him. I want to pay my respects.”

  “Well, I talked to Brittney. She’s not doing well. She’s mad at you. The family isn’t happy with you, either.”

  “I saved a woman’s life!” What right did they have to judge him? Ricardo had died with the serial killers’ weapon in his hand, about to add another victim to its death count. Maura Fleurent had survived, thanks to Aaron.

  The headlines made him out to be a superstar, and even though Carter was nowhere to be found, Aaron was credited with putting an end to the killers’ reign. There were already rumors he might get a promotion. But it was an empty victory. He had no one to share it with. In the eyes of those who’d once loved him, Aaron saw pity—or worse, contempt
. Their gazes were accusatory, skeptical, and apathetic, as if he were the villain in all of it. He felt lowly and loathsome, a victim of his own unhappy circumstances. He wondered what they would have said if he’d let Ricardo live and Maura die.

  “You did the right thing,” Arianna said. “I don’t question it. But try to see it from their perspective. Regardless of your reasons, you’re still the guy who killed someone they loved.”

  “You sure know how to make a guy feel better.”

  “Sorry.” Arianna remained quiet for a moment. “I can’t understand why he did it. We’ve known him for years. He was so close to you, to all of us. He was a great friend and a great boyfriend to Brittney. He was never violent. Did you have any idea? Did he ever say anything that would help us understand why?”

  “I don’t know why he did it. Maybe he thought Carter was some kind of prophet. Maybe he thought Carter could make him see again. His eyes were improving, and I think Carter exploited that, saying it was some kind of miracle from God.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Carter? I shot him, and he fell out a four-story window. If he survived that, he couldn’t have survived it well. He probably crawled into some hole to die.” Aaron said it, but he no longer believed it. He’d experienced firsthand, and was still experiencing, the aftereffects of what they’d fed him.

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. I have to visit Doug at the hospital.”

  Aaron tensed. “You’re still representing him?”

  “Everyone is entitled to legal representation, Aaron. Don’t get self-righteous with me. There was a time when you would have thought the same thing. You and I, we were the same… once.”

  I’m nothing like you. I’m better than you.

  “Besides,” she said, “there are some interesting legal arguments here. What if Doug believed he was instructed by God to kill? Even if the instructions came through Carter, I may have a chance to argue some novel law in the state. Does that equate to legal insanity? I don’t know, but it will certainly make headlines.”

  “Of course he’s fucking insane!” Aaron took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “What about us, Ari?”