The Cleansing

by Shane Crosby

  “A theory or your theory?”

  “Mine.”

  “What you come up with?”

  “Someone else would say there’s room for another explanation, but I’ve been doing this long enough to know there’s no such thing as coincidence.”

  “Being a detective?”

  “Living life.”

  “Oh yeah, I have to agree. What’s the pictures?”

  “Look at these pictures and tell me what you see. This is Club Hedonist, now look at the rest.”

  “I’d say they’re all the same club. They have some differences, but the similarities are blinding. You can’t deny it. What are these?”

  “Clubs in different parts of Gochian and Wisconsin.”

  “You can tell the same person owns them.”

  “No, different company.”

  “They used the same builder.”

  “I said the same.”

  “They are the same owner. We just need to prove it.”

  “Working on it.”

  “Family connections?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I wish I had that family of yours. My job would be a lot easier.”

  “It doesn’t make it easier, just gives more options.”

  “Same thing I just said.”

  I chuckled. “I guess so.”

  I have a basis for my theory, now I have to figure out how to prove it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

  SOUTHSIDE

  Trevor

  The press conference has only turned up one lead. I’d hoped with blasting it all over the news we’d get more people coming forward to identify our victims. In homicide, you quickly learn that it takes dedication. You don’t expect to solve a case overnight. However, there are times when you do. You get a lead and bam, your case is all tied up neatly in a beautiful bow. Most times, though, it’s not that simple or pretty. You have to dig in and grind out that evidence. You have to get in the trenches and be prepared to do what it takes for as long as it takes to get answers. This case represents the latter for me. I haven’t come across one like this yet so I guess I’m due.

  I have heard the old timers talk about losing sleep, focus on other things and nothing matters to them until they solve that case. It’s that one case, they said, that can sometimes drive a great detective to lose everything. They’ve cautioned me not to let this one be the one for me. Even Jack can see where this has the potential to take me. I keep reassuring them, I’m fine. I’m not going to allow anything to tear me down. I have too many important things in my life to cater to each day. In the beginning, when I said that, it was easy because it was true. As the days turn into months and those clubs keep making money, bodies are being dumped and leads are no existent, I find myself repeating those things I said before with such confidence. Only now, I do it as a tool to remind myself what I have.

  I left my house this morning not thinking about the usual; my son doing well in his reading. My daughter having fun at her playdate or thankful for my beautiful understanding wife who holds down our family, due to my job; alone. No, this morning has become like so many other mornings since I started this case. I’m thinking of how to prove those clubs are linked to my bodies. What can I do to prove it?

  Horn blowing repeatedly, loudly....

  Just like that I’m snapped out of the world I’m torturing myself in and back to another tortured reality.

  I looked in my rearview mirror and there was a car with the driver frantically waving his hands back and forth and blowing at me. He was weaving in and out of traffic, speeding trying to catch up to me. I’m thinking great; this morning I have to be a traffic cop.

  I pulled over eagerly awaiting him to catch up so I could arrest his ass for endangering the lives of the public. And, just like that after a few seconds, the car recklessly pulled up to the curb almost striking me in the process. I jumped on top of my cruiser to steer clear of the impending bodily harm charm he was working his way towards. When things cooled down, I jumped down and ran over to him to throw him to the ground and spend my damn morning writing paperwork to justify his arrest. Before I could, he jumped out waving his hands in the peace sign apologizing and pleading for me to listen.

  “Detective, detective, please, please, I’m so sorry. I need your help it’s urgent. Please.”

  “Dan! Damn you! I’m going to do more than drag your ass across the pavement this time!”

  I started grabbing him to put him in handcuffs. To my amazement, he didn’t resist, that alone got my attention and I stopped.

  “You know you’re going to jail, right?”

  “Yes, that’s fine take me.”

  I turned him around.

  “Take you to jail? You want to go to jail?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay what the hell is going on? I want to know now.”

  “Please take me to jail detective. I’ll be more than happy to share that with you. I’ll pay the impound for my car.”

  “Are you crazy? Have you been sniffing the ink at your paper?”

  “No, no I haven’t, but if you think I’m crazy and it gets me a trip to jail, I’ll go along.”

  “You want me to impound your car, take you to jail all because of why?”

  “I’ll tell you when we get there. Please put me in the back.”

  “You better have a hell of a story.”

  “Detective, please get my phone and my bag, please. I need those items.”

  “I mean this better be damn great.”

  I arrested him, placed a call to dispatch to have someone impound the car. All the way back to the station he was silent. I thought great, another wasted morning away from my real case to deal with a bunch of nonsense.

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER

  PRECINCT

  When we arrived at the precinct, I thought he had time to think about what he’d said and the consequences of his actions. I was ready for him to take it all back and beg for me to forget all about this, but to my surprise; he didn’t. I helped him out of the cruiser, walked him inside and into an interrogation room.

  “You’re still holding fast to this tale you have to tell me?”

  “It’s not a tale detective.”

  “Dan, I’ve had enough of you. If this is some kind of setup from you and your paper, I have news for you, almost running a cop off the road is a crime. Running anyone off the road is a crime. You’re going down for this. It doesn’t matter what you try to come up with.”

  “I’m not trying to come up with anything. I have some information for the police. Oddly enough, the only person I trust is you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. And, my instructions were to give it to you.”

  “Me?”

  “I didn’t stutter detective. And, I need your help.”

  “Thought so, what’s this about?”

  “No, I’m serious. I was instructed to give something to you.”

  “Okay, where is it?”

  “First, listen. I’ve been looking into the bodies being dumped around Gochian and other states. A few months ago, I was looking into police reports of missing people and murders trying to see if this was happening anywhere else and it is. I was trying to access a police database when I received an email. I ignored it for a week or so, tried to delete it and couldn’t. The subject was from the White House. I thought for sure it was spam. So, finally, I opened it, I figured what the hell, if it infects the paper, there’s nothing career ending on our servers at least not for us.”

  “Okay, go on.”

  “When I opened the email, it was audio only. I couldn’t understand everything it was saying so I took it to an audio guy I know. He worked on it as much as he could and all he could get was .....him saying my name, that he knew what I did for a living. He had a story to give me that would morph anything anyone has ever done in journalism. There was something about a pandemic. The police and your name.”

  “My name? Okay,
some phantom voice gives you instructions along the lines of the world ending and you run over a police officer and countless other civilians for that?”

  “It’s not just that. After I took the recording to my guy, he said there was a trigger within the recording. I received another email telling me that someone from the military would be contacting me. Who is working on the case of a body found in Jestun Park area with his throat cut?”

  “Jestun Park? The uppity area on the Northside?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who would have their throats cut over there?”

  “The guy I gave the recording to.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I went over to his house to see if he was able to get any additional information from the recording and there were police everywhere.”

  “You didn’t go in?”

  “Absolutely not, but I do have sources and they confirmed he was dead from bleeding out due to a wound to his throat.”

  “Well, one unexplained murder doesn’t make a conspiracy.”

  “What about two?”

  “Two?”

  “Yes, mine.”

  “Did you get hit on the head when you fled the scene?”

  “No. I have another source; an IT guy. When he tried to trace the recording back to its owner, he said he ran up against something like CIA, US military type encryption. When he went further to break that, the tape erased and his system shut down.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He’s in hiding?”

  “Yes, I assume so. He was terrified the last time I saw him.”

  “So, this encryption, what did he think it meant?”

  “He believed that there was a message in it. If we could decode it, we’d hear the entire message. He believed the person deliberately used some archaic form of communication with the message just in case someone other than the intended found it.”

  “Where is the recording now?”

  “I still have my copies. I’m sure the initial person’s copy has been destroyed.”

  “By the people you believe killed him?”

  “Yes. I know it sounds crazy to you and it did to us at first, but I’m telling you something’s going on in this city and around the country. From that recording it’s global.”

  “Dan, I get that you’re weirded out because you found your friend dead, but some ghost recording, that’s pretty far out.”

  “Here, listen for yourself. Be forewarned, with this recording danger follows.”

  “And, this is what you were supposed to give to me months ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I ask why you didn’t?”

  “I ignore it for weeks. And, then, well, you know I’m an investigative reporter.”

  “So you stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong and it’s about to get chopped off.”

  “Detective, I know you hate reporters, but listen. After I made contact with these people to help me, I almost had an accident. I took my car to the garage and the brakes had been cut. I went to visit my parents in upstate New York and my neighbor called me to tell me someone had broken into my place. My office at work was vandalized. The paper filed a report with the Gochian police, go check it out for yourself. I’m not making this stuff up.”

  “I don’t work robbery so that would be why I wouldn’t know about that. Your friend’s murder, they would’ve given that to someone else because we’re already assigned to a pretty convoluted case. What’s your friend’s name?”

  “Which one?”

  “Both.”

  “The one who was murdered Jeremy Denby. The other one on the lamb is Fred Neal.”

  “Okay, I’ll check this out. In the meantime, since you believe someone is trying to kill you, what do you want to do?”

  “I can stay in jail.”

  “We can’t keep you in a cell without cause.”

  “I tried to assault an officer; that should stick.”

  “Stanis I can’t falsify a report.”

  “It’s not falsifying anything. I did. I almost hit you, that should count for something.”

  “I tell you what. How about we drive you to the airport, put you on a place to NY and you stay there until this is over.”

  “Okay, I can do that. But, detective, I’m telling you be careful. My car’s brakes were designed to kill me over time without anyone knowing. It just so happens, I had that accident which turned out to be a life saver.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement. In the interim, we’ll get you on that place. I’ll explain it to your boss and don’t contact me, I’ll call you. Deal?”

  “Oh yes, thank you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  YOU WERE RIGHT

  GOCHIAN

  Trevor

  Being in homicide is like living on the edge every day. You never know what’s going to happen, who you’ll run into, what you’re going to hear. Last week was a perfect example of this. Instead of focusing my time and energy on my case, I had to explain to the Captain why we should be helping a reporter get to New York.

  With the story Dan told, I couldn’t give the Captain all of the details or to be honest any. I hadn’t had an opportunity to check his story out in detail. I didn’t this to come back on me and leave me looking stupid in front of my peers so I embellished a bit; translation, I lied through omission. It was enough to get Dan on a plane to New York.

  On the way to the airport, he badgered and pleaded with me to look into what he told me. I wasn’t convinced and I didn’t have time to waste on the delusional ramblings of an investigative reporter. He’d gotten under my skin with his constant pestering. The questions, following me, taking pictures, it had all gotten to be too much. I started looking for ways to get rid of him without getting caught. So, it pleases me mightily to not have to do that and a way to rid myself of this fly just dropped into my lap. I halfway wanted to thank the people who scared the crap out of him. They did me a huge favor.

  Now that he’s gone, I can focus my attention back where it needs to be. I did promise him I’d keep what we discussed between us. I would’ve don anything to just get him on that plane.

  There was one thing that was bothering me. I made time to check on that this morning. Shana Washington’s mother, her words were tapping me on the shoulder a bit. These days, that’s difficult for even my family to do, get my attention for more than five seconds. For her words and face to keep coming up at some point in my day, I took it as a sign to at least look into what she said a little further. I wasn’t going to mount a search and rescue, but I could take a look at the file.

  “Hey Jack. Have you had any difficulties accessing files?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Someone’s arrest record. Have you been denied access?”

  “Of course not, why you asking?”

  “You remember the lady who came in here a few weeks ago about her daughter?”

  “Yes, the junkie hooker daughter.”

  “Yes.”

  “How could I forget.”

  “I thought I’d just take a look at the file to see when they found her. I figured she was out of town hooking or something. And, I thought, maybe, just maybe I could find out if she worked at any of those clubs.”

  “Hey kid, that’s a good idea. She fits the profile perfectly.”

  “Or in the morgue.”

  “Well, that could be just as plausible. Which won out?”

  “The club. I wanted to check the file to see if her employment was listed. They sometimes work at the clubs to get off the streets for a few months, then go back.”

  “The first thing I’d do is check that file.”

  “Yeah, me too. And, that’s what I did. The file says denied. I can’t access it.”

  “What? Let me try. What’s her name again?”

  “Shana Jackson.”

  “Hmm, same thing; access denied. That’s very strange
. They must be having IT issues again. It’ll clear up in a few weeks.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  Another detective approaches Trevor and Jack’s area....

  “Hey Alvarez.”

  “Yo.”

  “Hey, uh, I heard you were looking for some information on a Jeremy Denby.”

  “Uh, is that the John Doe in Jestun Park?”

  “Yeah, yeah, him.”

  “I was, you got an update?”

  “Just that he was found with his throat cut in his apartment a few weeks ago. A month now, I’d say. We don’t have any leads, no witnesses, nothing. I was hoping you got something for us.”

  “Was it a break in?”

  “See, that’s what we were thinking, but surprised as hell for that area. Come to find out, it wasn’t. They entered through the door as much as we can gather.”

  “He let them in?”

  “That’s how it’s looking, yeah, but a neighbor said, he’d been acting real different lately.”

  “Like he was afraid of something or someone?”

  “I guess. She said, she didn’t hear anyone entering the apartment until Denby’s normal time to arrive home.”

  “Hmm, weird.”

  “Yeah, we thought so too, She’s really close with him. She found him. She heard a scuffle, went to knock on the door, no one answered. She went back into her apartment to call the police. By the time we arrived he was already dead. There was someone walking the dog, said she was run over by a man.”

  “She get a description?”

  “Yeah, but it’s vague. They hit her from behind. The dog got a piece of them though. We got a good DNA profile. If we get a suspect we’ll get a match.”

  “That’s if we get a suspect.”

  “Yeah, I mean that’s the way it goes in homicide. And, your other guy Fred Neal, he was found floating in Lake Gochian two days ago.”

  “How?”

  “Looks like they tried to tie the body down. It got loose and the current drifted the body into Warringville.”

  “Another ritzy neighborhood.”

  “Yep. Sorry, hermano.”

  “No, no problem, thanks, Jimenez.”

  Jack and Trevor....

  “What’s that all about? We lose a lead or something?”