A Life Removed

by Jason Parent

  Aaron opened the door and grabbed the radio handset. “This is Officer Aaron Pimental of the Fall River Police Department. I’m here at the residence of Maura Fleurent, 647 Everett Street. Your stationed officers are nowhere to be seen. Please send backup.”

  “Please repeat.”

  Aaron was too worried about Maura to waste time. “Officer down! Send backup to 647 Everett Street.” He tossed the receiver aside. He’s here. It must be him! He pulled out his service weapon then raced toward the house.

  As he climbed the front steps, he could see that the front door was ajar, but it didn’t appear to be broken. A washcloth and a small bottle lay on the carpet just inside the doorway. A strong odor emanated from the area. Ammonia? Chloroform?

  He flicked on his flashlight and crossed his wrists so that the gun and flashlight beam pointed in the same direction. He took a step forward, and his foot squished into the carpet as if he’d stepped on a sponge. About five feet away, a uniformed officer lay on the floor. He went over and bent down to check for a pulse. Nothing.

  He used his light to scan the rest of the living room. He didn’t see the other officer, and he couldn’t decide whether to search the rest of the house or wait for backup.

  “I’m up here,” Maura yelled. “Don’t—”

  Aaron hurried up the stairs. He paused at the top to check the hallway in each direction. Sounds of a struggle came from a room on the left. Gun ready, he stepped to the doorway and peered around it.

  Maura was sitting on the bed, her wrists zip-tied around the headboard. She was gagged and crying. Her eyes met his, and she tried to scream something. Realizing she was trying to warn him, he ducked back out of the doorway.

  Something hit him in the head from behind, and he slumped to the floor as his world went black.

  An empty bottle of Scotch sat on the table, glinting under the dim ceiling light. Bruce swirled the last of the single malt in his glass as he pored over copies of all the reports and case files associated with Carter Wainwright’s crew of killers.

  His fingers ran across a photo of a young boy whose name happened to be Carter Wainwright but who looked nothing like the suspect Bruce’s team pursued. Plastic surgery? Bruce scoffed. Of course not. Maybe the name is just a coincidence. There has to be more than one Carter Wainwright out there.

  His gut told him otherwise. A suicide and a murder thirteen years apart might have seemed unrelated if not for the name. He ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t dismiss the name. But what’s the connection?

  His cell phone rang. “Marklin.”

  “Bruce!” Jocelyn shouted. “Something’s going down at Fleurent’s house. Pimental just called it in.”

  “Pimental? What’s he doing there? Isn’t there a car posted outside?”

  “Yes, Seekonk police have had a patrol car there all week, but the officers aren’t responding. I’m heading over there now.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Aaron awoke to a hand slapping his face. Carter stood over him, holding a gun. Aaron probed his pounding head with his fingers and felt a gumball-sized bump.

  “What the fuck did you hit me with?” Aaron asked.

  “A billy club,” Carter said, smiling. “It goes with the uniform.” He tapped a rectangular pin affixed to his chest. “Like my name tag?”

  Aaron squinted at it. He groaned and rolled his eyes when he realized it was his. He couldn’t remember where or when he’d misplaced it, but its appearance on Carter’s chest gave him a fairly good idea.

  “I borrowed this from you. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Cut the crap, Carter. What do you want?”

  “That depends.”

  “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

  “I have a few things I’d like to wrap up first, Ms. Fleurent being one. You, another.”

  Aaron sat up. His eyes adjusted to the dark room, and he peered at Carter. He saw no signs of injury, no indication that the four-story fall or the shooting had ever occurred.

  Could I have missed him? It was dark, but… no, there’s no way I missed him. He’s just covering up the wounds. Aaron shook his head. He should be in a hospital or a cemetery by now. “How in hell did you survive that fall?”

  “I’m like a cat.” Carter laughed. “I always land on my feet, not to mention the whole nine lives thing.”

  Aaron glanced at Maura, who was still tied to the bed. She didn’t seem to be hurt.

  “Are you going to kill us?” Aaron asked. He didn’t find it strange that he wasn’t the least bit afraid, just curious. He wondered why they weren’t already dead.

  “Her, yes. You, no. Not unless you force my hand.” Carter’s straightforward answer struck Aaron as coldly rational. He was like an Old West judge, choosing at whim which criminals would receive the death penalty.

  “So where does that leave me?” Aaron didn’t care anymore. Only hours earlier, he would have been more than happy to have done himself in.

  “Don’t you want to help me do it? Look at her, all splayed out for us.” Carter waved a hand at Maura like a game show host revealing the grand prize. “Granted, I should kill you for shooting at me back at the mill, but I’m willing to forgive and forget if you are. Come on! It’ll be fun. Given that you’ve already shot Doug, Ricardo, and me, not to mention your first, it’s obvious you’re developing a taste for it.”

  “My first? What are you talking about?”

  “That’s right. Newport wasn’t your first. That was Mr. Fluffykins.”

  Aaron’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”

  “You’d be surprised how much I know about you, Aaron. Why’d you do it? Was it really over the Star Wars coloring book he chewed up? Or did it just feel good to wring that rabbit’s neck with your own two hands?”

  “Shut up. That was a long time ago. I—”

  “And what about Franklin Ortiz? You remember him, don’t you? Had to switch schools after that incident.”

  “Th-That wasn’t my fault. He picked that fight.”

  “Oh, but you finished it, didn’t you? Pushed him into traffic and told everyone it was an accident. That kid was lucky not to be in a wheelchair for life. Did Ricardo ever wonder why you didn’t have any friends when you came to his high school?”

  “That was an accident. How do you know all this?”

  “That psychiatrist your parents made you see, she took thorough notes. The old crone’s dead now—and no, not by my hand, unfortunately—but someone had to properly manage the disposal of all those juicy confidential records. Believe me, I could have taken all of them, and no one would have batted an eyelash.”

  Aaron slapped the floor and started to rise. “I should have shot you a hundred—”

  “Ah-ah.” Carter waggled his gun. “Slowly.”

  Biting back his anger, Aaron got to his feet. “But why? What do you want with me?”

  “People like us, we’re one in a million. I’ve never had a partner before, someone truly like me… at least not one that worked out or wasn’t already well on his way to prison or the cemetery. I just want to do what I do, savor it, and move on to the next one, and that’s a whole lot easier with someone watching your back.”

  “Don’t you mean someone to take the fall for you?”

  “And waste your potential? With our combined skills, we could look out for each other. We’d never get caught. Believe me, I’ve been at this for a long time. I know how to hunt, kill, and dispose of prey discreetly and professionally. It’s the heart removal and consumption that adds more time and complexity to it, but now that I’ve experienced that, there’s no way I’m giving it up. I know you want it, too. How empty your life must seem after having tasted that power and feeling like you can never taste it again. You can, Aaron. We could live our lives the way we want to live them, the way people like us were meant to
live. It’s simply Darwin’s theory in action, survival of the fittest.”

  “Why do you think I’d even consider that? I tried to kill you once, and if you give me that gun back, I’ll try again.”

  “Great. You need more time. I get it. Unfortunately, time is something we don’t have right now. I know a killer when I see one. I’ve gone through a lot of effort for you here, taken a lot of risks. You should be more appreciative. I know what you are, and by now, you’ve got to feel it, as well. Tell me the truth. Were you coming here tonight to kill her, or were you just hoping to get lucky?”

  The question was a slap in the face. Why would I want to kill Maura? He’d had thoughts of suicide, sure. But murder? Anyone he might have murdered had deserved it. Maura didn’t deserve it.

  He wanted to connect with her, with someone. “She’s all I got left,” he murmured, on the brink of tears.

  Carter laughed. “Oh, I get it now. You’re still clinging to that last bastion of humanity, personified in the form of Ms. Maura Fleurent. How delightful. Well, as a wise man once told me, ‘Humanity is the coldest of words.’ What has it brought you? Nothing but pain and sorrow. Forsake it! Be something so much more.” Carter tucked Aaron’s gun into the back of his pants and unsheathed his survival knife.

  “Stop preaching at me. I’m not one of your stupid lackeys.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you. You just need help realizing your potential.” He raised the knife. “I can help you with that. You won’t need to do a thing.”

  Sirens blared in the distance. It sounded as though every cop car in Seekonk was on the way.

  Carter sighed. “You just had to call them, didn’t you? I guess this is her second lucky day. The third time’s the charm, right?” He winked at Maura then turned back to Aaron. “Well, you’re on your own. When you come to your senses, give me a sign. I’ll find you.” He walked toward the door.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” Aaron leaped to his feet and charged. He crashed into Carter, and the momentum carried them into the wall. With both hands, he pinned Carter’s left arm to the wall, the gun aimed at the ceiling.

  Carter twisted around and threw a right hook that caused Aaron to stagger backward. “I don’t have time for this!” He shrugged. “Not like I don’t owe you one.” He fired a single shot then bolted out of the room.

  Aaron didn’t pursue him. Blood ran between his fingers from a deep gash in his shoulder where the bullet had grazed him. He sat on the bed beside Maura. As he looked into her eyes, he saw a woman who was helpless and weak, the way he felt inside. She looked pathetic, a reflection of his own wretchedness. He didn’t want to be feeble anymore.

  He pulled his Swiss army knife from his pocket. As he leaned toward her, she flinched. He frowned. “I’m trying to help you.” When the fear didn’t leave her eyes, his hurt turned to anger.

  He sneered and tore the gag out of her mouth. Grabbing her forearm, he gave it a yank. She winced and closed her eyes as he jabbed the blade at the zip-tie.

  As soon as her hands were free, she rolled off the far side of the bed and backed away from him, gripping her right wrist with her left hand. Outside, tires screeched, and red and blue lights flashed through the window.

  Maura continued to retreat until her back found the room’s corner. “Those things he said, it’s like he knows you.”

  “I’m not one of them, Maura.” Aaron circled the bed. “You have to trust me.”

  “He said you killed people. There were others…”

  He let out a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t kill anybody. A rabbit when I was six. Let’s just talk about this for a second.” He raised his hands then realized he was still holding the pocketknife. After putting the knife on the windowsill, he took a long step toward her.

  Outside, a bullhorn blared. “This is the police. We have you surrounded. Come out with your hands up.”

  “I don’t know you,” Maura whined. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Get away from me.”

  “Maura, I—”

  “I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them everything. If you don’t step back, I swear to God I will.”

  Aaron sucked in a gulp of air. He put on a pained smile, full of clenched teeth. “Why would you say that? After all I’ve done—”

  She pressed her back to the wall. “Stay the hell away from me!”

  He reached for her, but she leapt toward the bed and scrambled over it on her hands and knees. She tumbled onto the floor on the other side. As she struggled to get back on her feet, Aaron jumped onto the bed and dove into her back. His momentum carried them forward, and he heard a bone-chilling crack as Maura’s head collided with the corner of her dresser.

  Aaron rolled off her. “Maura?” He crawled around to get a better look at what part of her might be injured.

  The bullhorn sounded again. “Last chance. Come out with your hands up.”

  Maura moaned and raised her head. Slowly, she pushed herself up to her knees, her body swaying like a palm tree in a hurricane. Drool ran down her chin. Her eyes were half-rolled back in her sockets, the lids fluttering. Blood flowed from a large gash and matted her hair to her forehead.

  “You were all I had left, Maura. I saved you. But you don’t thank me. Instead, you reject me, just like everyone else.” He reached out and ran his hand through the hair on the back of her head then closed his fist around a large clump. “I just wanted to talk to you. I wanted your help. Was that really too much to ask, after all the help I gave you?”

  He pulled her head back. “I gave you your life, you bitch! And you threaten me?” He slammed her head forward against the dresser. “You refuse to see me?” He rammed her head into the dresser again. “You don’t deserve your life, you fucking bitch!”

  Over and over again, Aaron hammered Maura’s head into that dresser. “You hear me? You don’t deserve a goddamn thing!”

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  The front door slammed. Footsteps thundered across the floor.

  “Fuck. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?” Blood coated his clothes, so much of it that he couldn’t tell which blotches came from her head and which came from his shoulder. And they won’t be able to tell, either.

  An idea formed quickly, and he had to forcibly wipe the grin off his face. He sat cross-legged and cradled Maura’s head across his wounded arm.

  “Up here!” Beaudette shouted as she entered the bedroom. “Officer down!” Pointing her gun at each corner, she asked, “Wainwright?”

  Aaron tried to inject a tremor into his voice. “Gone, I think, just before you got here.”

  Marklin rushed in. “My God, Pimental. What the hell happened?”

  “Maura.” The effort it took not to smile made him form a grimace he hoped would look as though he were fighting back tears. “She’s dead.”

  “Fucking A, Jocelyn,” Marklin said. “Three times we cross paths with Ms. Fleurent, and we still fail to protect her. I can see the lawsuits now.”

  “A woman’s dead, Bruce,” Beaudette said calmly. “And an officer needs our help.”

  “Yeah?” Marklin snapped. He turned to Aaron. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway? You know you aren’t supposed to be here. She’s already given her statement, but the matter has not been closed.”

  “She called me. Practically begged me to come by. She said she needed someone to talk to, and… I needed someone, too.”

  Two paramedics shuffled into the room. One checked Maura for a pulse and shook his head. They pulled her away from Aaron, who clung to her as if letting go meant losing himself. If I’m not already lost.

  “Wait.” Marklin said. “What’s up with your arm?”

  “Wainwright shot me.”

  “I think you better run through it from the beginning—that is, if you don’t require immediate medical assistance.”

 
“I’m okay.” Aaron got up and sat on the bed. “As I said, I came by to see Maura. She seemed nervous, maybe even scared, when she called, so I thought maybe she was having nightmares or something. Now, I figure Carter must have forced her to call me to lure me here. Anyway, when I got here, I stopped by the cruiser out front to let them know who I am. The car was empty, so I called it in. When I saw the front door open and one of the officers on the floor, I came inside.”

  “Why didn’t you wait for backup?” Beaudette asked.

  “I was worried about Maura.”

  Beaudette nodded, scribbling notes into a small pad. “Go on.”

  “I swept the first floor but didn’t see anyone, so I went upstairs and swept there, too. Nothing. I pulled out my pocketknife—it’s over there on the sill—and cut Maura free. I think she tried to warn me, but I couldn’t tell what she was saying because she was gagged. I was reaching for the gag when Wainwright clubbed me in the back of the head.” He winced as he touched the still-smarting wound. “I’m guessing he was hiding outside or something while I cleared the house. I must have blacked out for a minute, ’cause when I came to…” He lowered his eyes and cleared his throat. “When I came to, he was bashing her head against the dresser. My gun was gone. I got up and charged him, but he turned around and shot me.”

  “I heard the sirens then, and he must have, too, because he ran out of the room. I went over to check on Maura, but she was already dead.”

  “Why didn’t he kill you?” Marklin asked.

  Fuck. Aaron tried to hide his frustration for missing such an obvious point. “I don’t know. Maybe he panicked.”

  “Maybe.” Marklin stroked his chin. “Just seems odd that after you shot him back at the mill that he would let you live.”

  “Bruce, we can talk more about this down at the precinct,” Beaudette said. “He really needs to get to the hospital.”

  Marklin narrowed his eyes at Aaron before nodding.

  Aaron didn’t like that look, but he’d told his story, and he just need to stick to it. It’s my word against hers, and she ain’t talking.