by Brae Lynne
Shadow of Smoke June V. Bourgo
Shadow
Of
Smoke
June V. Bourgo
This story is a work of fiction. Places, names, characters, situations, and incidences have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. This story is not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidences are pure invention. All are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental and are not to be construed as real.
Copyright © 2015 by June V. Bourgo
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher and the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Published by Blind Chicken Arts.
First Publishing: November 2015
If you purchased this story without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. If it was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
SHADOW OF SMOKE
Monday, May 10th, 10:00 p.m.
Edward Baines froze at the sound of tires on the gravel driveway. Glancing around the bedroom for tell-tale signs of his presence, he strode across the room and slipped into the closet behind the louvered door where he could watch.
The front door opened and closed. The clicking of her heels on the hardwood floors told him she'd gone into the kitchen. Her movements around the house created a quiet expectation.
"Soon..." he whispered."
She came into the bedroom, and sat down on the end of the bed. In one swift movement, she kicked off her shoes and flopped back onto the bed with a sigh.
A sadistic smile spread over his face. In a few minutes her safe world would be shattered ... and she had no idea.
Empowerment!
That's what he craved. The anticipation of laying in wait was almost unbearable. He could feel the heat in his lower extremities but Edward would be as patient as necessary. The reward would justify the wait.
He watched her pull herself up and begin to undress. The woman was a little taller than he remembered. He studied her face as she turned around to lay her clothes across the bed. She'd been wearing sunglasses and a ball cap the first time he'd seen her at the mall. She was younger than he’d remembered. All the better. Edward had followed her home and studied her street. Now he was back. At that first sighting her dark, straight hair framed her face and hung long past her shoulders.
The hair was what had attracted his attention. Always the hair. Today, she had it pulled up into a knot. Hate it.
She removed her bra to reveal small, firm breasts, followed by slipping off her red, silk panties. The effect was not lost on him. Bonus. He hadn't expected to see her naked so soon.
The woman stood facing the mirror and with one swift motion of her hand, her hair fell long and dark past her slim shoulders, stopping short of her small, rounded buttocks. She reached for the hairbrush on the dresser.
He drew in a deep breath. The fluid motion of the hairbrush smoothing out the long strands of hair flooded his mind with memories of brushing his mother’s long dark hair every night. His father had walked out on them when he was five. She'd taken him to her bed to comfort him and herself. When he felt ready for his privacy, she’d insisted he sleep with her. Then came the seduction. She told him it was a tradition in her culture for mothers to teach their sons to become great lovers. His mother was a fiery, passionate woman, prone to drama and fantasy.
She was crazy. And cruel.
It had begun with her wanting him to watch her; she enjoyed being watched. A slow progression of interplay began and by the time he reached puberty, her seduction was complete. Edward knew it was wrong but felt too ashamed to tell anyone. And who could he tell? A loner at school, introverted and shy, the other kids thought he was strange. His mother threatened to kill him if he told ... he believed her.
His thoughts filled with rage. It was time. When will she go into the bathroom? That was a big part of the game. The moment she sees what he'd left for her and realized her fate, it would be too late. Edward needed that moment.
As if on cue, the woman headed to the bathroom. He watched her step into the doorway and stop in her tracks. Hands flew to her mouth and after glancing around the room, she backed out slowly. She turned and with a scream ran towards the bedroom door.
Edward flew out of the closet.
Three hours earlier, 7:00 p.m.
Sage Brooks glanced at her watch as she walked into the restaurant. She saw her neighbours, Susan and Jim Connors almost immediately. With a wave, she headed to their table. A smile tugged at her mouth as Sage thought of the silly nicknames she and her friends had called them growing up. Susan was tall and skinny, resembling Popeye's Olive Oil, while Jim, short and stocky, was a regular Humpty Dumpty. Sage grew to love them both and realized how totally devoted they were to each other.
Hugs were passed all around. She sat down and ordered a vodka tonic with lime, her drink of choice.
"We're so glad you decided to join us. We never see you anymore," Susan said.
"It's great to see you both. You look well."
"How's your mother?" Jim asked.
"Oh, you know Mom. Bus tours, bingo; she's still pretty feisty for seventy-eight."
"Give her our best next time you talk. We look forward to seeing her this summer at our BBQ's," Susan added.
"When I get to talk to her." Sage sighed."I've been calling for hours, but her phone is either busy or there's no answer. I can't get her into the millennium. She refuses voicemail, no answering machine, never mind a cell phone. Mom believes if the caller wants to talk to her badly enough, they'll call back." They all shared a laugh.
Sage spent the next few hours enjoying good food and conversation with the Connors. When they parted, her neighbours headed to the city for an overnight stay and Sage drove home.
Monday, May 10, 10:00 p.m.
Sage pulled into the driveway and sat in her car looking at the house. Childhood memories centered in this home and the familiarity was comforting. Once inside, she headed to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of red wine. The bright red glow of the setting sun caught her attention and Sage stood by the window and enjoyed the sight until it disappeared.
She headed into the bedroom, only too happy to disrobe and enjoy a hot shower to wash away the stresses of her day. She took a moment to lie on the bed and muse about her job. Working in advertising meant a contract with deadlines and her current project was no exception. She'd accomplished a lot working at home over the weekend. Sage had gone into the office today for a meeting but tomorrow she planned on staying home for as long as it took to finish the project. A smug satisfaction made her smile, confirming she'd been right to take a few days away from the hustle and bustle of the office.
Sage stood naked in front of the mirror brushing her long, dark hair. Admiring its healthy sheen, she tossed it back over her shoulders and headed to the bathroom. Her breath caught and she froze in the doorway, backed out slowly and ran towards the bedroom door, a stifled scream escaping her constricted throat.
Tuesday, May 11, 2:15 a.m.
Detective Stan Cassidy drove through the dark, quiet streets. He'd been asleep when the call came. He turned the radio up loader and changed the channel to old time rock and roll in an attempt to clear his grogginess. He was getting
too old for middle of the night calls. Reaching the street he'd been called to, he stopped and held up his shield for the officer standing guard to see. The roadway was alive with activity and filled with police cars, fire engines, ambulances, and other official vehicles. Neighbours in their robes and pajamas were held at bay across the street from the crime scene.
Stan continued down the road and parked. A policeman was stringing police tape around the perimeter of the property. The air hung heavy with the stench of burned building materials, electrical wiring, and along with the lingering smoke, it made him cough. Once again, he flashed his badge. The officer held the tape up for him to duck under.
Stan noted that five houses sat on either side of the road. This small home stood on the corner. Shrubs and trees lined the outside edge of the driveway. They ran the whole length of the property, hiding the bungalow from the side street.
"Who's the officer in charge?" he asked a group standing on the lawn.
A young patrolman separated himself from the others. "I am, sir, Officer Murray."
"I'm Detective Cassidy. Were you first on scene?"
"Yes, sir."
"Fill me in, son."
"The 911 call came in a few minutes before midnight from the neighbours across the street. They saw a red glow inside the house through the windows. I got here at the same time as the firemen. I blocked the road at either end and interviewed the neighbours who called it in. They said they heard the resident arrive home around 10:00 p.m. and she went out again about 11:30 p.m."
"How do they know it was her, did they see her?"
'No. They'd gone to bed and tail lights shone through their bedroom window. They assumed it was her."
Stan stared at the officer. "So they don't know if she came home alone or not. Continue."
"The firemen contained the blaze and went inside to check things out. That's when they found the body. I called it in and waited for the forensic team to arrive."
"Good work, son. Is the coroner here yet?"
"Yes, he's inside, and thank you, sir," Officer Murray said.
"I'm in charge now. I'd like you to talk to any neighbours standing behind that line over there. Find out if any of them saw anything and what kind of car the resident drives."
"Yes, sir."
The Fire Chief approached Stan. "Our job is done here for tonight, we're heading back to the station."
"How bad is it in there?"
"Not as bad as it could have been. The neighbours saw the fire before it really got going, and because we're only two blocks away, we got lucky. Can't say that for the victim though."
"I've got a bad feeling about this one," Stan muttered. He put paper booties over his feet and entered the house. The forensic team were busy at work as he walked through to the bedroom.
The coroner, standing by the body writing notes, glanced his way. "Good morning," John Dill said.
Stan winced. No matter how many bodies he'd seen over the years, he never got used to it. This one was particularly gruesome. "Still night time to me. Whatcha got, J.D.?
'Female, raped, sodomized. The upper part of the body is badly charred to the point of no recognition. Stab wounds, cuts, some broken fingers. The autopsy will determine any other injuries. She was brutalized."
"Cause of death?" Stan asked.
"Not sure yet. There are long clumps of dark hair on the floor and a pair of bloodied scissors. Looks like he cut off her hair and then used the scissors to stab her."
"Is that it?"
"For now. There's something you need to see in the bathroom."
Stan followed the coroner. One look and his heart sank. "Oh shit..."
On the mirror, written with red lipstick were the words, 'U don’t know it...but you're dead'.
"I know this M.O. Can't remember his name, Ed something. But this is all familiar."
J.D. frowned. "Serial killer?"
"Not then. He killed his mother when he was fifteen. If I remember right, he told them he killed her because she insisted on calling him Eddie..."
"Scary fellow."
"Turned out she'd been sexually abusing him since he was five years old. They found pictures. The night he wigged out and killed her, he wrote these same words on the bathroom mirror with her lipstick. He wanted her to be freaked like he'd been all those years. But, she laughed and taunted him. The boy grabbed the scissors in a rage and messed her up pretty good. When he was done, he strangled her." Stan walked back to the body and stared. "I bet when you do your autopsy on the victim, you'll find a crushed trachea. He lit his mother's house on fire too."
"To destroy the evidence." J.D. said.
"No, he wanted to wipe out the past."
J.D. packed up his tools. "What happened to him?"
"Edward Baines. That was his name. He was found insane. They put him into a mental institution."
"Let's hope they didn't let him out," the coroner said.
"Well, if it isn't him, it's a copy cat."
The two men left the house and headed towards their vehicles.
"When did all this happen? Must have been before my time." J.D. said.
"About ten years ago. I'm heading to the office. Give me a dingle when you have some answers."
"Will do."
At the office, Stan pulled the file on Edward Baines and refreshed his memory on the case. He left a message for the prosecutor. The hours flew by and fellow workers filed in to start a new day.
Tuesday, May 11, 9:00 a.m.
"Hey, partner. I understand you've been here awhile."
Stan looked up, surprised to see Detective Laura Radcliffe standing by his desk with two cups of coffee. He accepted the hot liquid and glanced at the clock. "When did you get back in town?"
"I flew in on an early flight. I decided to treat you to breakfast, but your neighbour told me you'd left in the wee hours. I knew you must've been called out. I tracked you down, detective."
"How's your sister?"
Laura perched on the edge of his desk. "She broke her leg, but she's home now and being treated like a princess by her husband. That'll teach her to climb a ladder without a spotter. She was lucky considering she landed on concrete."
Stan leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. His grumbling stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten since dinner. It would have to wait. "I'm glad she's okay."
"Thank you. We all are. So what've we got here that's kept you up all night?"
Stan filled her in. "The resident who lives at the crime scene is Sage Brooks. We assume she's the victim but we're waiting for the autopsy results. I received the report from the officer first on scene. He interviewed the neighbours standing around. None of them saw a thing. We need to interview the rest of the residents on Laburnum and in the area."
"Let's go."
The detective's eyebrows shot up. "It's your scheduled day off."
"Hey, I've already had days off. What better way to spend my day but working on a new case? Admit it, neither of us has a life outside of work." Laura chuckled.
"You've got that right. But hey, I'm a divorced, burned out old man. You're young, single, and attractive. What's your excuse?"
Laura shrugged. "I'm in limbo. I worked hard to get detective status. I wasn't interested in a personal life. Anyone I was involved with knew it too. They never stuck around for long. So, here we are, partner. Let's swing by the crime scene first, so I can check it out."
They spent the next few hours talking to residents in the area to no avail. By this time, Stan needed food. They stopped for lunch on the way back to the station.
Tuesday, May 11, 1:30 p.m.
Two calls came in back-to-back that confirmed his worst fears. The first one was from J.D.
"Afternoon, Stan."
"What's the word?"
"He worked her over pretty good. X-rays show broken nose, broken jaw, and—a crushed trachea. Cause of death asphyxiation."
Stan let out a whistle and shook his head. "Anything else?"
"We found semen, skin under her nails, and some hairs. Oh...and he stabbed her before he strangled her."
"Sick son-of-a-bitch. Time of death?" Stan asked.
"I'd say between 11-11:30 p.m."
The detective's lunch sat like a lump in his stomach. "The neighbours said she came home at 10:00 p.m. The poor woman suffered at his hands a long time. Age and description?"
"Probably in her twenties, long straight brown hair, brown eyes, slim build, no distinguishable markings...on the lower half that is. We're going to need dental records to identify this one."
"Thanks, J.D."
"The report's on its way over. The samples are at the lab. Good luck on this one." J.D. said.
The second call came immediately after Stan hung up. It was the county prosecutor. "Sam Peters here. How 'ya doing?"
"Getting too old for these all nighters, Sam." Stan said.
"You thinking about calling it quits, old man?"
"Damn right, I am."
The prosecutor chuckled. "Never thought I'd hear you say that."
Stan brought the conversation back to the task at hand. "So, what did you find out?"
"You sitting down?" Sam asked.
"Go."
'Your Mr. Baines was released to the care of a relative, one month ago."
The detective sucked in air. He could taste bile in his throat. Damn acid reflux, he thought. "You've got to be kidding."
"Nope. The release file is on its way to me. I'll get it over to you soon as it arrives. From talking with the Director at the institution, Baines was a model patient who participated in his treatment and was deemed well enough to re-enter society under supervision."