A Life Removed

by Jason Parent

  Arianna didn’t respond.

  “Yeah, I figured they’d be looking into me after Raquel, but I thought I would have some time before they start piecing that one together. But since you opened your big mouth to all those people, I’m thinking time’s short. After we’re done here, I’ll be gettin’ while the gettin’s good.” He rubbed his hands together. “Do you know where we are?”

  Her eyes rolled as she tried to look around the room. The glow from the portable lantern Aaron had placed near the table and the flashlight he carried were the room’s only sources of light.

  She swallowed hard. “Is th-this the place… the place where—”

  “No.” Aaron laughed. “But it is a mill. I sort of borrowed the idea from them, though I don’t think they’ll mind. It’s a place where no one will hear you and no one will find you.” She trembled. He liked that. “Just so you know, I was never a part of what they were doing, and I actually tried to stop it. I was a hero, but you, Brittney, everyone… you all kicked me to the curb. You didn’t even care. You all looked at me like… like I was some kind of monster.” He slammed his palm down on the table near her head.

  Arianna closed her eyes. A tear trickled down her cheek. “That’s not true, but even if it was, it’s no excuse for killing people.” Her mascara streaked down her face as her eyes rained harder. “And look at you now! You would actually do what they did? You would cut me open like that? At least Ricardo, as disillusioned as he was, believed he was saving people. There are no good intentions behind your plans. You are a monster.”

  Aaron laughed. “So happy I could finally live up to your expectations. But say what you will. I’m not crazy like them. It has nothing to do with your sins. I can’t explain it to you. You’d have to experience it to understand.”

  Arianna was one of the average, while he stood so high above. She couldn’t know without experiencing what the killers had each felt firsthand. No one could appreciate the thrill and virility that came with the consumption of Carter’s delicacy without submitting themselves to atrocity.

  “It’s not easy to come to grips with,” he said. “Trust me on that one. I could transform you like they did me, but by the time you came around, I’d be dead or in jail.” He chuckled. “We’re just two ships passing in the night.”

  “Aaron, you’re not making any sense.” Her words blended with sobs. “You need help. Let me go, and I’ll help you.”

  Aaron shook his head. “I don’t need help. For a long time, I did, but I never got it from you, from anybody. Not until Carter. Finally, I’ve found what I needed all along. For the first time that I can remember, life is good. I feel good. But I do need one more thing to be complete.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Tonight is about you and me. All of this—the setting, the quiet ambience, and the romantic atmosphere—it’s all for dramatic effect. Kind of an homage, if you will. And who knows? Maybe I can take your soul to hell along with mine.” He longed to feed, to feel that power surge inside him. “But personally, you hurt me. Real bad. I really just want to hurt you back.”

  Arianna screamed and called for help, over and over. Her cries were of no use. Still, he supposed she had to try. He crossed his arms and waited for her to finish. No one would save her. There were no heroes left in the world.

  When she ran out of steam, he pulled out the knife he had tucked under the back of his belt. The blade was shaped like a scimitar, only thicker, and silver studs and spikes circled the grip. It looked like something from a cheesy sci-fi film, a postapocalyptic mutant’s weapon. He held it up so she could see it. “It’s amazing what one can find at a Florida flea market.” He laughed. “I bought this beauty special just for you.” He slid his thumb down the blade’s edge. “Uh-oh. It’s not that sharp.”

  Arianna squirmed and let out another hoarse cry for help. “Please, Aaron. Please don’t do this.”

  His heart galloped. Her betrayal and abandonment still stung. He pictured her with her new boyfriend and hoped the guy was in love with her. That way, he would know how Aaron felt.

  He raised the knife.

  CHAPTER 40

  Arianna Medeiros’s house had yielded no clues. Bruce and Jocelyn had searched it thoroughly. After dropping off Seth, they headed to Pimental’s new address. Bruce drove through dark, empty streets. Half the streetlights were out, and the only people they passed were crouched in shadows, junkies needing fixes and those who would fix them.

  Even though the circumstantial evidence was beginning to pile up, Bruce didn’t think he would be able to get a warrant, especially at such a late hour. A stakeout was the best he could do, and he might get lucky and catch Pimental in some illegal act.

  Without turning his head to look at Jocelyn, he said, “I have more details on that thing in Atlantic City…”

  “What? And you’re just now mentioning this?” Jocelyn said.

  “I know. I should have told you back at the precinct, but I was so upset we didn’t have surveillance placed on Medeiros’s house that I just wanted to get over there fast. Turns out with good reason. Plus, you were busy following up on Wainwright. I thought maybe we’d—”

  “Bruce, we’re partners.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Well?”

  “Like the Wainwright kills, the heart was missing. Only this time, a power saw was used, and she was bound by standard-issue handcuffs.”

  “Fleurent was bound with handcuffs the second go-around, too, so I’d keep Wainwright on an equal playing field. We still need to investigate him for about ten or so murders, remember?”

  “Well, I did some checking on Pimental anyway.”

  Jocelyn frowned. Bruce was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking. She certainly agreed Pimental needed to be investigated and particularly for Arianna’s disappearance, if she had in fact disappeared, but their known guilty party was out there.

  Better to focus on those we can still catch. “Why are you so reluctant to believe Pimental is part of all this?”

  “Medeiros just reported his sister missing. It’s only been a few hours. Maybe she just needed to get away from the craziness. And who knows who she might be seeing now? She could be anywhere, with anybody.”

  “You don’t really believe that. And you saw the house. There was a struggle. The blood on the floor was a pretty obvious clue. So ruling out her just getting away for a while—what’s your gut telling you?”

  “It’s just… I don’t want to believe a cop could do all of those awful things. Not one of ours. Someone we know and have worked with for years.”

  “You know better.”

  “Sure. In my head. But…”

  “It’s like I told you. You’d go much farther than me in this job if you kill that bleeding heart of yours.”

  “Interesting choice of words.”

  Bruce sighed. “Well, consider this. Pimental flew to Orlando and paid for five nights at the Quality Inn on International Drive. After that, he spent two nights in Key West. Then he drove all the way to New Orleans for another couple of nights before driving back to Orlando, only to fly back here.”

  “New Orleans during Mardi Gras? Sounds like a fun vacation. So he was nowhere near Atlantic City.”

  “Jocelyn, Pimental is a cop. He put over two thousand miles on that rental car, driving the shit out of it in less than two weeks. Is that how most people spend their vacations? Also, the car he rented was a Subaru Outback, which he specifically requested. That’s a vehicle that would be good in the snow.”

  “You’re suggesting Pimental flew all the way down to Orlando just to drive back up here to Atlantic City to kill that woman?”

  “Why did he drive to New Orleans? With today’s gas prices, it’s cheaper and faster to fly there.”

  “Maybe he prefers driving to flying. I don’t know, Bruce. But he did check in, so he must’ve been there, right?�
�

  “Unless he has an accomplice. Or maybe he got to Key West and New Orleans some other way, so he could account for all those extra miles he tacked on to the rental.”

  “Sounds far-fetched. Aren’t you the one who always tells me the simplest answer is often the right answer?”

  “I also tell you to follow your gut. I’m following mine.”

  “Even if we ignore all the obvious holes in your theory, you’re still missing one critical element. What motive would Pimental have to drive all that way just to murder some housewife?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question. I found out that Raquel Bancroft was born and raised in Pimental’s hometown of Somerset. She even graduated in the same high school class as he did, so it’s no stretch to assume he knew her.”

  “That is an interesting coincidence.” Jocelyn scratched her head and leaned forward. “Okay, you’ve got my attention. Let’s get a couple of officers looking into it.”

  “Way ahead of you. In fact…” Bruce pulled to the curb and called the precinct. “It’s Marklin. Get me Officer Holt.” He wanted to keep dispatch free in case any emergencies came in, so he stayed off the radio. Also, Pimental might have a scanner. Bruce turned up the volume and put the phone on speaker.

  “This is Holt.”

  “It’s Marklin. How’s that research going?”

  “I talked to some of Raquel Bancroft’s old friends, and I found out she had a creepy boyfriend right after high school. None of them seemed to have approved of her dating this guy. Care to guess his name?”

  “Aaron Pimental,” Bruce stated. He winked at Jocelyn.

  “No, sir. Why? I’m sorry, sir. Does Officer Pimental know the deceased?”

  “Never mind that. What was his name?”

  “Well, they said she dated some waif of a guy, a pale, gloomy fellow. He was clinically depressed, they said, some loner who went to Rockland High School around the same time she was at Somerset High. He committed suicide while they were dating. He actually jumped off the Cliffwalks in Newport.”

  Bruce shared a look of disbelief with Jocelyn. Things keep getting weirder and weirder. “Well, what was his name?”

  “They said his name was Carter Wainwright, sir.”

  An empty feeling surged up from the pit of his stomach. “Is that all?” he managed after a moment.

  Officer Holt responded, “Well, when I showed them the picture of our Carter Wainwright, they all agreed it wasn’t the guy they were talking about. They remember their Carter Wainwright being blond and fair-skinned.”

  Bruce had delayed investigation into the fate of the real Carter Wainwright, focusing instead on the individual who’d become him. With the new information, he was forced to stop and regroup. How is Pimental connected to the dead woman or the real or fake Wainwright? Have I been wrong about all this? He needed to focus, to connect the proverbial dots. But some dots were still missing. By the deepness of the grooves on Jocelyn’s brow, she was equally perplexed.

  Officer Holt cleared his throat. “There’s one more thing, sir. I went to a few of the local libraries to search the newspapers for Wainwright’s suicide. I checked paper after paper and found nothing—no obituary, no article. Nothing. I even called over to the Newport Daily News to see if they could help me. His name came up nowhere in their database. There’s nothing about it anywhere, not even online. It’s like the guy never existed. But two of the woman’s friends knew the name. It couldn’t be a coincidence, and they would have no reason to lie. It looks like someone went through a hell of a lot of trouble to eliminate records pertaining to Carter Wainwright.”

  Bruce grunted. “Good work, Officer Holt.” Everything comes full circle. Yet, I have nothing solid on Pimental, and I can’t find Wainwright. He had been certain he’d find a tie between Pimental and Bancroft. But Wainwright and Bancroft?

  After ending the call, he pulled back onto the road. “Any ideas?”

  Jocelyn shook her head. “I’m as surprised as you are on this one. I didn’t expect that.”

  “Well, let’s bring in Pimental. There’s a lot I want to talk to him about.”

  When Bruce reached the address Seth had given them, he stared at the boarded-up fish market.

  “This can’t be right,” Jocelyn said.

  “Some of these places have apartments above them, but not this one. Could Medeiros have given us the wrong address?”

  “Why would he give us the wrong address?” Jocelyn’s eyes widened. “Stravenski! He partnered with him sometimes. He might know.”

  After struggling with dispatch for Stravenski’s whereabouts, Bruce was eventually patched through to the officer’s patrol car. He had Stravenski call his cell in case Pimental was listening. Stravenski called and told them that Pimental had been staying with his parents.

  While Jocelyn requested backup, Bruce flicked on his lights and sped toward the new address.

  Aaron had no idea how much time he had before Marklin and Beaudette would show up at his parents’ house. But he couldn’t sit around thinking about it. Arianna’s overprotective brother or her idiot boyfriend would report her missing once they saw her house, if they hadn’t already. And if she was telling the truth about blabbing to Marklin, it was time to leave.

  He had to stop by his parents’ house to pick up some stuff and get rid of any evidence he might have left. He would drive toward the coast, hide out in dive motels, then hop on the first plane he could find that would take him to some South American country that lacked extradition. There was nothing left for him in the States, anyway. He had cleaned out his savings account before his Florida trip. It wasn’t much, but in some of the poorer countries, it could get him by for a long time.

  At his parents’ place, he grabbed his suitcase, which he’d kept packed for just such an emergency, along with his laptop and all the scraps of paper he’d written notes on while researching his victims. He crept downstairs quietly, trying not to wake his mother. He had left a note for her, so there was no need for a long goodbye or the bunch of questions she was sure to pepper him with. Backing up to the door while pulling his large suitcase, he reached behind him to twist the doorknob. He winced and froze when the door creaked open. After not hearing anything for a count of five, he turned to exit the house—and smacked into Seth Medeiros.

  “Going somewhere, Aaron?”

  Aaron staggered backward. He released his grip on his suitcase, and it rocked into an upright position. “Heading to Florida, remember?” he said, smiling nervously.

  “I thought you already went.” Seth stood in front of him, blocking his path. He held a double-barrel shotgun under one arm.

  “You’re confused.” Aaron tried to steady his voice. “What’s with the gun, Seth?”

  “Where’s my sister?”

  “How the hell should I know? I haven’t seen her in weeks.”

  Seth’s jaw flexed. “I was supposed to see her tonight. She didn’t answer my calls, and that ain’t like her. I’ve been to her place, saw the mess. And it’s like she up and disappeared. You know anything about that?”

  “Seth, put the gun down and come inside. Let’s talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. She’s missing, and I know that you have everything to do with it.”

  “How do you know she didn’t go away with her new boyfriend?”

  “Aaron, I told you, I went by the house. I saw the mess. I’ve called her and everyone who knows her a half dozen times.” He raised the barrel of the shotgun so that it pointed at Aaron’s chest. “I warned her about you. Now I’m going to ask you one more time…”

  Aaron moved his hand toward his pistol holstered at his side. He wondered if he could draw it before Seth pulled the trigger. Aaron’s reflexes were better than ever, and maybe the shotgun wasn’t loaded. Maybe Seth was just trying to scare him. Maybe I should run back into the ho
use. But he knew better. No one could outrun a bullet.

  “What do you think this is?” Seth snickered, glancing down at Aaron’s hand. “The Wild West? I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “Seth, please. Let’s be rational here.” Aaron’s hand slid closer to the holster.

  “Move that hand again, and you won’t be too happy with the results. For the last fucking time, where’s my sister?”

  Aaron’s heart pounded, and sweat dripped from his forehead. “I don’t know where she is!” He drew his gun.

  The blast made his head ring. The buckshot felt like a thousand horseflies biting everywhere across his chest. The stinging was short-lived. True agony took its place, locking up his lungs as his feet swung up off the ground. He crashed down on the entryway floor, mind blurred by searing-hot pain.

  The smoking barrel of Seth’s shotgun lowered. After gaping at Aaron for a few seconds, apparently shocked that he’d actually shot him, he turned and trudged back to his car. Just as he reached it, an old Buick pulled in behind it.

  “Don’t move!” Beaudette yelled, thrusting her gun out the passenger window of Marklin’s car.

  Holding up one hand, Seth slowly crouched and laid the shotgun on the ground. He stood back up and raised both hands into the air.

  Aaron laughed. It hurt to laugh. The fat fuck had actually done it, had avenged his sister. The detectives moved in on Seth as their backup pulled in. They cuffed him, patted him down, and ordered two officers to put him in the back of their cruiser.

  Beaudette ran over to Aaron. She kicked his gun away from him. Marklin hung back, on his radio, probably calling for an ambulance. Aaron coughed up blood. It coated his teeth with a texture that reminded him of hummus. He tried to speak, but his words wouldn’t form.

  “Where is she?” Beaudette asked.

  Aaron shook his head and smiled. “Too late…”

  “Why?” Beaudette cried. “You were a damn hero. Does this whole fucking city lack a moral compass?”