Blood Week

by J. D. Martin

  Sixteen years ago, these two left a fifteen-year-old boy alone in the world, and today was the anniversary of their passing. Each year, I came to visit with them. I knew it was silly to cling to this ritual, but it seemed even sillier to talk to them anywhere but here. Perhaps I shouldn’t talk to them at all. Obviously, they couldn’t respond, but people do things like this more for themselves than anything else. I was no different.

  “Hey Mom…Dad…hard to believe it’s been another year.” Leaning down I placed a single tulip in front of each stone. “The time has just flown by, hasn’t it? I’ve kept fairly busy at the precinct; even received an accommodation from the mayor back in March. Exceptional service…line of duty…blah blah,” I said, laughing to myself.

  “You remember when I told you about my partner Hadley? He retired a few weeks ago and I have a feeling that the captain will be surprising me with a new partner soon. She has been exceptionally nice lately, so it’s got to mean bad news is on the way.” I chuckled and placed a hand on each stone. “I miss the both of you.”

  I rubbed my fingers along the smooth stonework before kneeling in front of them. I felt the etching in the rock that held their names. Closing my eyes, “I hope you’re in a better place.”

  Kissing the tips of my fingers, I touched my parents’ names and held them there for a moment. After making my peace, I stood back up and spent a moment in silence with them before walking away.

  On the way back to my car, I passed a woman crying over a fresh grave. From the head stone, I assumed this was a wife mourning her lost husband. I didn’t want to be disrespectful, so I averted my gaze and finished the trek to the vehicle. Not being in a sports car mood this morning, I chose the Tahoe from the garage to drive to the cemetery. Back in the SUV, I noticed on the dashboard clock that my shift started in fifteen minutes. Pulling away from the curb, I realized I still needed to grab breakfast.

  Turning a corner, I spotted the street vendor that was there each morning selling bagels and crepes. Stopping alongside him, I asked for a blueberry bagel and handed him a few dollars. My way came a fresh bagel freckled with blueberry spots wrapped in a brown napkin. With breakfast in hand, I thanked him and continued towards the precinct.

  A few blocks down, I turned into the underground garage and parked just as my cell phone rang. The name Stacey Hawthorne flashed on the screen. Detaching the smartphone from the dash’s hands-free device, I tapped the green button.

  “Good morning Captain,” I answered.

  “Hey Alex, visiting the folks?”

  “Yeah, I actually already left. Just got to the precinct.”

  “Perfect timing then,” she laughed. “Could you meet me on the observation deck?”

  “Why?” I asked, my voice dripping with suspicion.

  “Just get your ass over here,” she said before hanging up.

  “Sure thing, I’ll be right over,” I said to the phone as I put it in my pocket. Exiting the truck, I pressed the lock on my key fob and ascended the parking-garage stairs to street level.

  Stepping out onto the sidewalk, I watched cars fly by while I waited for the crosswalk signal. I glanced to the right and the monument that stood in front of police headquarters caught my eye. It was a life-sized statue of a policeman carrying a small child. It stood atop a stone pedestal with the names of 119 men who had given their lives in the service of the city through the years.

  Some of the names dated as far back as the late 1800’s when the department was founded. When the monument had been erected, enough room had been left on the base to honor each officer that died in the line of duty. Each time this happened, their name was added to the list so we could always remember their sacrifice.

  The traffic came to a halt as the light changed and I crossed the street to the building on the other side. City Hall was 29 stories from the ground up and at the top was an observation deck that took in the city from all sides. It was built around 1937, so it had seen quite a bit of the good and bad during its tenure. It was a neoclassical Beaux-Arts style brown stone with lines of windows reaching all the way to the roof. The building was wider for the first six stories, serving as a base to the remaining twenty-three floors of the skyscraper.

  Along the top of the base were relief sculptures depicting the history of Kansas City during its settlement. Although City Hall wasn’t the tallest building in the city, it still dominated the skyline due to sitting atop a large hill. It really was an awe-inspiring sight , and right now the captain was at the top of it.

  My history with Captain Hawthorne went back to before she had the title. Stacey had known me my entire life. She grew up with my parents and had been a friend of the family for years. She’d even watched me as a kid when they had gone on some of their weekly dates. This was before I was old enough to stay home alone, but even when I had come of age, she still checked in on me from time-to-time.

  Once they were gone, this surrogate mother/child relationship began between us that continued to this day. Knowing me for so long, she also knew of my love for the view that the observation deck gave of downtown Kansas City. Every time she had bad news for me, she gave it to me on the observation deck to soften the blow. For some reason, that view always calmed me.

  At the top of the stairs, I pulled open the main doors and stepped onto the green marble of the main lobby. The room was filled with the click and clacks of shoes on the hard surface as everyone hurried to wherever they needed to be. As I was going up, I walked directly to the closest elevator.

  Usually someone from security would escort visitors to the top and give them a brief history lesson as they took in the surroundings. I came here so often that most of them had come to know me. They were aware that I was a homicide detective stationed across the street, so I simply gave a nod to the security personnel as I passed by.

  The brass doors of the elevator were etched with an assortment of transportation. There were square panels with planes, boats, cars, and even trains like those that come into Union Station each day. Pressing the call button, the doors immediately opened and I stepped in. I pushed the floor for the observation deck and waited as I began to ascend. Although it was the highest floor the elevator went to, it still wasn’t at the observation deck. You actually had to walk up a single flight of stairs to reach the door that led to it.

  “Hey Cap, how’s the view today?” I asked, stepping through the door.

  “Alex, I couldn’t ask for a better one. We’ve got clear skies all the way out to the horizon” she replied handing me a warm cup of coffee. Her auburn hair rustled in the breeze. She had it up in a ponytail, which was her usual style choice. It was all business, but still kept something feminine with how it revealed her neckline. The number of days behind her were starting to show with the lines around the edges of her eyes.

  While I know they bothered her, the freckles on her face were usually her main complaint. Although I told her that they were one of her best qualities, she usually called me a liar and changed the subject to something else like how her weight wasn’t as under control as it used to be. She wasn’t fat by any definition of the word, but her edges had begun to soften over the years.

  Although I was aware of her concerns in these areas due to our closeness, she didn’t talk of them often. She carried herself like a true leader. The respect of her peers and direct reports was more important than what they thought of her looks. I was proud of her accomplishments and her abilities, regardless of anything else that she may view as blemishes.

  After taking a sip, I got the ball rolling, “So what’s the bad news?”

  “Just because I invite you up here, does it have to always be bad news?” she asked with a wry smile.

  “Most definitely” I laughed.

  “Don’t be an ass, Alex. No, I was just thinking about your folks and decided to take a look out over the city. They really loved it here. And seeing as I was going to be up here already, I figured I’d have you join me.”

  “This is where th
e bad news comes in, right?”

  “Oh hush,” she said smacking my arm. After a brief pause, she continued, “Come to think of it, I did want to tell you that your new partner’s transfer came through.” I knew it had to be something.

  “His name is Marcus Delgado and his flight from Fresno should be landing at KCI any minute. He’ll be here in a couple hours, which gives you just enough time to review his jacket. I left it on your desk.”

  “In that case, I should get back there and start reading. I’d like to know at least a little about him before he arrives.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” she said heading towards the door. Opening it for her, Stacey stepped through and I followed her down the stairs to the elevator.

  On the way back to the station, the conversation mainly consisted of the past and my parents. Sometimes it seemed like she missed them almost as much as I did.

  The elevator at the station opened on the second floor to homicide’s bullpen. Entering a room filled with seasoned veterans of the force, I made my way to my own little slice of real estate. On my desk was a thick folder filled with all the information we had on my soon-to-be partner awaiting my review. Sitting down, I opened the file and began reading.

  Marcus was a Latino, born and raised in Fresno, California. Being a third-generation police officer, it was safe to assume he knew his way around the force. I discovered that he was named after his grandfather who happened to start the family’s occupational tradition. Delgado signed up for training the day after his 19th birthday and has now been on the blue team for fourteen years; four as a detective. His 33rd birthday and anniversary with the Fresno PD would have been in three months.

  The file showed him to be a decorated officer, but it didn’t mention a reason for his move to Kansas City. It also didn’t list whether the change in scenery was requested or mandated. I made a mental note to ask him the circumstances behind the move when I met him. It looked like he wasn’t coming alone either. Delgado was accompanied by his wife Rita, and seven-year-old daughter Victoria. I couldn’t help but wonder what made him decide to pluck his family out of the life they knew and move them halfway across the country.

  While I brushed up on all that was Marcus Delgado, a man sat on bench on the other side of the room with cuffs on his wrists and a beat cop standing next to him. The arrestee, a balding Caucasian that looked to be in his mid-twenties, still managed to have a goatee to make sure there was at least some hair on his head. He also had an eyebrow ring above his left eye that looked infected. Wearing ripped blue jeans, white sneakers, and a faded green t-shirt, he sat on the bench while waiting to be interrogated.

  Glancing up at this man from my study materials, I took notice of his demeanor and realized something was wrong with the way he was looking at the officers around him. I saw his eyes narrow just as he bolted upright, catching the officer guarding him across the nose with his forehead. Turning to run, a hand grasped his chest and shoved him over an outstretched leg that forced him off his feet. The startled runner got a first-hand lesson about gravity as it pulled him down to the hardwood floors with a loud thud.

  Wincing, he tried to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him. Coughing, he slowly opened his eyes and looked up to find his vision blocked by the barrel of my gun staring down at him. Standing over him I stated, “Not your smartest move pal. Did you really think you were going to get out of here? You’re in a room full of cops, moron.” Taking a step back, fellow officers hoisted him to his feet and carted him off to holding.

  “Thanks.” replied the officer as he stood up nursing a bloody nose.

  “No problem. Are you ok?” I asked the patrolman as I holstered my weapon. He gave me a nod, but it was clear that his pride had been hurt more than anything else. “Well, make sure to get yourself checked out by one of the EMT’s.” With another nod and an awkward smile, he turned and walked down the hallway.

  Getting back to my chair, I took a sip of coffee and continued boning up for the upcoming exam. I barely finished a sentence before a duffel bag plopped into the chair next to my desk. Looking up, I saw the face from the file I had been reading standing before me.

  Marcus was of medium build, wearing navy blue slacks, and a white button-up shirt. The cut of his biceps could be seen pushing up through his sleeves. This evidence convinced me that he could handle himself in a rough situation. Although, the belly was pushing on the buttons of the shirt slightly. The man had power in his physique, but there was a small keg hiding what was probably once a six pack. Either way, it’s good to know ahead of time if your partner can watch your back, and by the cut of this man there wasn’t a doubt.

  His clean-shaven face was smiling back at me as he offered out his hand. “I guess that guy didn’t know that Van Damme worked here, huh?” Laughing, he struck a tough guy pose straight out of an 80’s action flick before extending his hand to me again.

  I chuckled as I rose up to shake his hand. “Well, I did watch a lot of Bloodsport when I was younger.” Taking his hand, I continued, “Pleasure to meet you Marcus, I’m Alexander Saint.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too. I see you’ve been reading up on me,” he said while gesturing towards the open file. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a similar envelope, holding it up to me. “That makes two of us. It’s always good to know a little about someone you’re supposed to trust with your life.”

  “Yeah, I’ve barely had a chance to scratch the surface. I thought you wouldn’t be here for a few hours. Didn’t your plane just land a little while ago?”

  “Actually, my wife and daughter arrived on the plane this morning. I came in yesterday afternoon so I could finish a project I’d been working on. My wife’s parents live in Olathe, so I stayed on their couch since our house won’t be ready until this afternoon. I’ve come up a few times over the past few weeks getting things ready.”

  “So, do you know the area well then?”

  “A bit. We’d fly up here a few times a year to visit her parents so I know enough about the city to get by.”

  “Seems like a lot of money to spend on airline tickets,” I said.

  “Oh, no joke. Frequent flyer miles accumulate like crazy with how much we flew back and forth. We’ve been doing it for six…” Delgado was interrupted by Captain Hawthorne stepping out of her office and calling for attention.

  Every set of ears in the pen turned to hear her as she reported, “It’s that time of year again folks, and the first day is already on top of us. Our first body has been discovered at a café a few miles from here.” Turning, her eyes fell on me. “Saint, the body was found on East 12th Street near Main. You and Delgado get down there, show him the ropes and see if our man has decided to slip up this year.”

  I stood up, grabbed my jacket and began putting it on as I walked towards the exit. “On our way, Captain.” Marcus followed in stride as we reached the elevator and I pressed the down button.

  “I guess we’ll have to save the get-to-know-you festivities for later,” said Marcus. “What was Captain Hawthorne talking about? She made it sound like you guys have a serial killer.’”

  “Looks like we found the first thing you’ll be learning about this city that you didn’t already. Know. Marcus, you chose a hell of a time to join our precinct.” Entering the elevator, I pressed the button for the garage and said, “You may regret not waiting for the fall once this week is over.”

  Chapter 5

  On the ride to the corner of 12th and Main, I gave Delgado the CliffsNotes on what had been a thorn in the KCPD over the past few years. Kansas City was the home of a murderer who had been leaving bodies all over the city. Every year around this time, another body would appear that started a weeklong period of death. Then, the killer would disappear for another year.

  The news had begun referring to this time of year as Blood Week. Today marked the beginning of the fifth anniversary of the first week. A new body would be found each day for the entire week; each of them mutilated and display
ed in public spaces to ensure they’re found quickly. While the police department was trying to catch them, there was growing support for the killer around the city.

  The person had become somewhat of a legend because the dead bodies were always criminals. Because of this, arguments have begun to whether the police should bother putting a stop to it. You would think that stopping a killer would be a simple decision. But the actions of this one created discord among citizens with a divisiveness that created a lot of fanfare for the news outlets to cover.

  Ridding the streets of filth was commendable under the right circumstances, but the vigilante was circumventing the law. On the one hand, this person was clearing the streets of murderers, drug dealers, gang bangers and the like, but was murder okay when the targets were the criminal elements? This is where the public debate continued to rage.

  “Sounds complicated,” said Marcus. “I can see both the good and the bad that would surround something like this. I’m honestly not sure how I would feel about it.”

  “A lot of people are conflicted. But then there are those on the outskirts that feel very strongly about one side or the other.”

  “What is the PD’s stance on it?” asked Marcus.

  “Officially, we are trying to bring him into custody. He’s broken the law and that is something he’ll have to answer for.”

  “And unofficially?”

  I sighed, “That’s even more complicated.”

  Marcus pursed his lips. Taking a breath, he turned towards me. “And where do you stand?”

  “I just follow the captain’s orders, and right now we’re to work the case.” Delgado looked out the windows, realizing that was all he would get on the matter. He realized that he would have to make up his own mind on the subject. In the meantime, Marcus appeared to understand that my advice was sound. Follow orders and work the case.