A Life Removed

by Jason Parent

  Seth nodded. “Too many crazy coincidences, if you ask me. I wouldn’t be surprised if Aaron was one of them and that’s why they got away with it for as long as they did.”

  Jocelyn shook her head. “That doesn’t sound right. Pimental shot Wainwright, saved that woman, and killed his best friend in doing so.”

  “I’m sorry,” Arianna said. “I’m just shaken up. I mean… what if it was him?” Her face paled. She pushed back her bangs, tucking their ends around her ears. “Do you think he would come after me, too?”

  “You may be worrying for nothing,” Bruce said, “but why take chances? Keep your door locked. Don’t go out alone. Don’t even stay home alone, at least not until we catch whoever killed Fournier, or until we can clear Pimental. If you fear for your life, I’d also urge you to seek a restraining order.”

  “Is that it?” Seth rose. “That’s all you can do for us?”

  “Without more, there’s not too much we can do. But you can sleep a little easier knowing we’ll be monitoring his movements.”

  Seth leaned all his considerable girth over the desk. “That’s not good enough. Can’t you do something more? He works here, for crying out loud.”

  “We’ll classify him as a person of interest and pull him in for questioning.”

  Seth grunted and stuck out his hand. Bruce rose and shook it, and Jocelyn walked over to do the same. Arianna gave them a curt nod before she and her brother left Bruce’s office.

  After they were gone, Jocelyn plopped down in the chair Seth had vacated. She squirmed to find that comfy spot, cringing at the seat’s warmth. “Well? Aren’t you going to say it?”

  Bruce tapped his fingers on his desk. “Say what?”

  “You know.” She crinkled her nose. “I told you so.”

  “Despite what you may think, I didn’t want to be right about this. A cop-turned-killer would make all of us look bad. As if we don’t have enough problems trying to convince the neighborhood that not all of us are corrupt.”

  “Well, he certainly had motive to kill Fournier, and we had sent him to the hospital only hours before his death. Do you buy his story about the Fleurent scene?”

  Bruce shook his head. “Something stinks like shit about that. This whole case stinks worse than all the septic tanks in Fall River. I mean, how did Wainwright just disappear? How did he empty his house right under our noses? I think there’s another player here, an accessory at the least. He must have help. I might have suspected Fleurent if she hadn’t wound up dead. Maybe Pimental’s been in cahoots with Wainwright all along. Think about it. He says he shot Wainwright, who then fell out a window four stories, yet Wainwright wasn’t lying on the ground dead. Not a single witness to that. Plus, Pimental seems to be everywhere Wainwright pops up lately.” Bruce shook his head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Wainwright took off, and we’ve been dealing with one of his remaining stooges since.”

  Jocelyn chewed on that for a minute, then she held up a finger. “One, Pimental has access to crime scenes.” She raised another finger. “Two, he can out-maneuver our surveillance if he knows our positions.” Another finger. “Three, he can tamper with evidence. You’re right. It’s possible he’s been an inside man all along. He was even the first responder to the Ramirez crime scene.” She stared at the yellowing ceiling tiles. “Ugh! Then why would he save Fleurent, only to kill her later? Why would he kill his other partners in crime? None of this makes any sense.”

  “We’ll prod him about it as soon as he gets back. If he is part of Wainwright’s little gang, I don’t want to tip him off that we’re on to him. Not until we have what we need to hang him.”

  “What about this New Jersey killing? Different weapon, but the heart was missing. A copycat?”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think so.” Bruce reached for his phone. “I’ll contact the detective heading up the investigation over there. Something tells me that solving that case just may be the key to unlocking our own.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Barely three days after getting back from Florida, Aaron craved his next kill. It had been a week since he’d killed Raquel, and the memory of her taste still caused his mouth to water. Aaron drove down the snow-covered street parallel to his old house. He couldn’t exactly pull into the driveway, though that would probably have raised less suspicion among the neighbors than if he kept driving around the block. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, a difficult feat in a part of town where everyone knew him.

  He parked on a side street. After all, it had worked well enough the last time. “Last chance to turn back,” he said to the empty car. Since he’d returned to Massachusetts, Aaron hadn’t had any human contact except for when he’d called the department to request another week off.

  If I do this, it will only be a short time before Marklin connects her to me. The prick was already suspicious even before he had reason to be.

  Aaron climbed out and trudged through the snow to the row of bushes at the edge of his former yard. Scanning the house for signs of life, he saw no one. He entered the yard, another step toward certain damnation. Doug was excusable, but Raquel—and now Arianna? Ricardo and that boy so long ago? Yeah, he had killed them, too. The funny thing was he’d fought so hard to convince himself he hadn’t pushed that boy off the cliff on purpose when admitting it, accepting it, might have saved him so much grief and heartache. He no longer cared. More than that, he embraced that side of himself.

  He didn’t bother with the front door, certain Arianna would have changed the locks. Every movement he made seemed loud against a still, quiet night. Whispers of his progression danced toward the ears of those who would listen. But if ears were listening, none heeded his approach.

  Snow flurried around him, and he hoped it provided him cover. The night was dark. Overstuffed clouds blotted out the stars, but the snow reflected the streetlights’ glow.

  He pulled a black ski mask over his face, clenched his fists inside his black leather gloves, and scurried toward the bulkhead door, which had never been barred. To his fortune, Arianna hadn’t thought to latch it. He pulled it open quickly but quietly then closed it behind him.

  The door to the cellar was latched with a flimsy slide chain, which Aaron easily pried loose with a screwdriver. He made his way toward the stairs and began to climb. Each step was slower and softer, as he tried to avoid the creaky areas.

  He heard scratching followed by whimpering. Shit. Damn dog’s gonna give me away.

  Footsteps came toward the door as he reached the top. He raised the screwdriver, holding the railing with his free hand in case Arianna tried to push him. This isn’t how or where I wanted it, but it’ll have to do.

  “What is it, girl?” Arianna asked. “Wanna go outside? That’s the wrong door, silly.”

  The dog barked once and panted. When Aaron heard the jingling of Calypso’s leash, he knew he’d been spared. That dog loves the snow. He huffed. She used to be my dog.

  “Caly, don’t pull!” Arianna’s voice was farther away.

  A door creaked open, and a howling wind whipped through the house. The back door slammed, and Aaron made his move. He slipped into the house, ducking low under the windows. He chanced a peek out the bedroom window. Calypso was bounding across the yard. She dove into a snowdrift, her leash dragging behind her. He saw no sign of Arianna. But he did see something else.

  “Fuck!” His tracks led across the backyard and over to the bulkhead door. She must have seen them. She knows I’m here. She must have run.

  “Caly!”

  Aaron froze. The back door opened. He heard the pitter-patter of feet and the jingle of Calypso’s tags, followed by a wiping of human feet on the welcome mat. The dog beelined straight to him and appeared in the bedroom doorway.

  “Hey, don’t you want your treat?”

  The dog’s ears straightened. She looked back at the entrance then back at Aaron.
A second later, she wagged her tail and trotted back to the kitchen.

  Aaron smiled. Arianna liked to give Calypso those giant rawhide bones. That would keep the dog busy for a little while. After waiting three more minutes, he crept into the hall, passed the basement door, and stopped in the diagonal shadow created by the corner of the wall and the kitchen light beyond it.

  Arianna stood at the kitchen sink, elbow deep in dishwater. She hummed while she scrubbed.

  Aaron took a step toward her. This is almost too easy. He continued until he was only a few feet away.

  Arianna drained the water and pulled off her gloves. When she reached for a dish towel, she froze.

  The window. Of course. Even from where he stood, he could see his reflection clear as day. “Hello, Arianna. I’ve missed you.”

  She spun around. “What are you doing here?” she asked, shrinking back against the sink. “Leave now, and I won’t call the cops.”

  “I am the cops.”

  “So you must know that you’re breaking and entering. You need to leave. Now!” Her voice had gotten stronger, but it still cracked.

  Aaron laughed. “Breaking and entering? I can live with that.” More softly, he added, “You know I can’t leave now.”

  She suddenly lunged toward him, bringing a hand out from behind her back. His head exploded with pain as she broke a plate over it. He stumbled and almost fell. Arianna lurched toward the phone on the end of the counter. She snatched it up just as he reached her. He grabbed her wrist and slammed her hand down on the counter. She yelped, and the phone fell out of her hand and slid across the floor.

  Arianna jammed her other elbow into his stomach. When his breath came out in a whoosh, he bent over. She pulled her arm free and circled the table, heading back toward the sink. There, she pulled a butcher’s knife from the rack.

  “Interesting.” Aaron picked up her phone and put it in his pocket.

  Arianna glared at him. She shifted her weight back and forth between her feet, always keeping that knife out in front of her.

  The wild look on her face made Aaron think of The Shining. “Here’s Johnny,” he said flatly and snickered.

  “Come near me, and I swear I’ll shove this knife so far into you, it’ll come out the other side.”

  “That’s the spirit! That’s what I always loved about you. Hot-blooded Ari. No one could ever tell you what to do.” He inched toward her, his hands held out in front of him. “But please, I’m asking nicely. Put the knife down, and we’ll talk about this.”

  He reached her with one long stride. She thrust the knife toward him, and he jerked sideways. The blade slashed through the material of his jacket but never touched him. Before she could pull her arm back for another try, he punched her in the nose. Her head rocked back, blood pouring from her nostrils. She dropped the knife and brought her hands up to her face.

  Aaron kicked the knife under the table. With the skill of a hockey player, Arianna checked him aside and ran. Caught off guard, he reached for her sweatshirt as she passed, but he came up short, grasping at air. He followed her into the living room.

  As he rounded the corner of the doorway, she hit him in the head with something. Glass shattered. The broken remains of a flower vase sprinkled the rug. She began throwing things at him: a decorative pillow, magazines from the coffee table, and the television remote. When she tried to pick up the lamp, the cord wouldn’t give, and it dropped harmlessly at her feet.

  Aaron walked slowly, reveling in the hunt, knowing he would soon have his prey. He could already taste the warm blood of her heart smearing his lips. She flipped the coffee table toward him. The hard edge hit his shin just right, sending a quick jolt of pain through his leg like an electric shock.

  Arianna raced past him, heading back to the kitchen. Aaron recovered and came up behind her just as she was pulling another knife out of the block. He wrapped his arms around her, grabbing her wrists and slamming them onto the counter. She began to kick and scream, slamming her heels into Aaron’s shins as he bear-hugged her off the ground.

  He squeezed. I need to stop fooling around. Somebody might have already called the cops. He could feel her ribcage collapsing under his embrace. Just some good old-fashioned domestic violence. Nothing to see here.

  Her long brown hair clung to his face. He leaned toward it, sniffing the clean smell of lavender on her scalp. She drove her head back into his nose.

  “You bitch!” He staggered backward but held on.

  She swung her heels back and up. Her right foot was blocked by his leg, but her left connected with his balls. Aaron squealed, releasing her as he bent over in pain. He coughed and cupped his genitals with one hand.

  Arianna turned to run, but she tripped and went down hard on the tile floor. Though ready to vomit from the agony emanating from his crotch, Aaron lurched over and fell on top of her.

  He grabbed a fistful of hair with his free hand and slammed her head on the floor. He repeated the move until she lay still. “I’m done playing around with you, bitch.” He scowled as he punched her one more time for good measure.

  CHAPTER 39

  Jocelyn was as fed up as Bruce was, but the department had other cases and only so many resources to distribute among them. They wanted full-time surveillance on Pimental, but Bruce’s request had been placed in a long queue. And while the brass dillydallied, yet another potential killer was given an opportunity to flee.

  “If you want something done right, you’ve gotta do it yourself.” Bruce threw on his coat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  “We can put a couple officers on it,” Jocelyn said.

  “Like those two clowns who let the Fourniers slip by them? Or how about the idiots we had guarding Fournier’s hospital room?”

  Jocelyn frowned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear half this precinct was on Wainwright’s payroll.” I’m not sure I do know any better.

  Bruce grunted and turned up his collar, preparing for the harsh bite of the subzero wind. He exited his office.

  “Wait.” Jocelyn hurried after him, zipping up her coat. “I’ll go with you.” She slowed and suppressed a chill as they passed the two empty desks that had belonged to Temple and Pimental. Bruce is right. Pimental’s not coming back. “What’s the plan?”

  “What I should have been doing from day one: I’m going to tail him. And when he slips up—and he will slip up—I’ll be there to make sure he falls.”

  Jocelyn crossed her arms. “If he’s got any skill as a cop, he’ll spot you outside his place.”

  “I won’t be going to his place. I’ll be heading to her place. If he is our guy, Ms. Medeiros is the obvious next target.” He held open one of the double doors leading to the reception area for Jocelyn then followed her through. “We’ve lost too many people to these psycho—”

  “You!” A heavyset man barreled toward Bruce.

  “Sir, we have to finish taking your report,” an officer called after him.

  Bruce waved off the officer. “Mr. Medeiros, what happened?”

  “She’s gone!” Seth blurted between wheezes. “He’s got her—I just know it!”

  “Easy,” Jocelyn said. “Who’s got who?”

  “Who else? Aaron has my sister. Yes, that asshole I was just in here warning you about not even forty-eight hours ago has taken my sister. And it’s all your damn fault.”

  “Okay, okay,” Jocelyn said. “We want to help, but you need to calm down and tell us what you know.”

  Seth took three deep breaths. The purple of his face faded to a bright red. “I went by her house. I knocked a few times, tried the bell. No answer. So I let myself in. The place was trashed, the furniture tipped over and shit. I could tell there’d been a fight.”

  “When was this?”

  Seth’s nostrils flared. “Like twenty minutes ago. I came straight here.” />
  “You said the place was trashed? And no one called us?”

  Seth’s eyes shimmered with tears. “This fucking city. Nobody lifts a hand to help nobody. That’s why I got out. If you want something done right, you’ve gotta do it yourself.”

  She glanced at Bruce. “So I’ve heard.”

  Bruce asked, “Did you check the house for her? The whole house?”

  “Not the whole house, but most of it. And I called her name a bunch. The dog came. That dog is always with her.”

  Bruce looked at Jocelyn. “She could still be there. She may be hurt.”

  She nodded. “Let’s go. Mr. Medeiros, you can ride with us.”

  They ran out to Bruce’s car and got in. Seth held his side and gasped for air, but he kept up and jumped in the back.

  Bruce floored the pedal and flipped on his lights, while Jocelyn got on the radio and called for backup, pausing only long enough to get Arianna’s address from Seth.

  When she finished, she turned in her seat. “You holding up?”

  Seth shook his head. “She’s not there. He took her. We’re wasting time.”

  “You may be right, but at least there, we stand a chance of finding her or some clue where he might have taken her. Do you have any idea where he could have taken her?”

  “No, but I know where he lives.”

  Aaron let her howl for an hour or so. Spread out naked on top of an old workbench, her wrists and ankles bound, Arianna had no way of escaping. He wanted to wait for her spirit to break before going to her, but he couldn’t. He walked over to her.

  Arianna spat in his face. “Everyone will suspect you. I’ve told Seth, Brittney, and the detective in charge of the investigation… a Marlin or Macklin… all about you.”

  Aaron grinned. “Did you tell Reggie?” Yeah, he knew all about her new boyfriend and how quickly he’d entered the picture. They hadn’t been hard to tail. He’d watched through slitted curtains with the aid of binoculars. The things he’d seen them do made his skin crawl.