No Remorse No Regret

by Ian Worrall

  And you, Jason Edwards, you’re a bike courier for Danil’s drugs. Still owe thirty thousand dollars. Bar guy dies first, then the bike courier at his home.

  * * *

  Arriving back at his home, Colton has a slice of pizza and a bottle of a generic brand of soda. In his kitchen, he starts eating and dials the number for Melissa’s voicemail service. “Hello Melissa Vance, Detective Cole Porter calling. I need to speak with you. Call me at 789-0666.”

  How ironic that my phone number would have the satanic number in it. Finishing his food, he goes to his computer and starts doing a search for how he can track the location of a mailbox number. Where exactly would post office number seventeen be?

  Checking the website for the postal service and the local area, he finds the location in no time flat. He leans back in his chair, pulls a cigarette out of a pack, lights it and takes a long drag. This girl’s going to be dead soon and I have so much planned for her. Stun gun to subdue her? Yeah, she’s probably too smart to be roofied. And then carry her over my shoulder, of course, to bring back her special memories of me. I could have her join the two girls I’ve got now. This time I’ll make sure she’s actually dead before throwing her in the water. That’s what I’ll do with everyone from now on.

  Chapter 52

  W ith four marked police cars and a SWAT team, Mitchell, Jackie, and Zach pull in front of the address for John Harris. The head of the SWAT team knocks on the door. They don’t have to wait long. A slim brunette woman, about five feet seven, in her early forties answers the door. She rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips.

  “You guys don’t know the loser’s dead?” she asks.

  Mitchell steps from behind the SWAT leader holding up a sheet. “We have a warrant to search the premises.”

  She takes the warrant from him and reads it over. “Evidence in murder?”

  “Suspect in The Drowner murders.”

  She shows no perceptible reaction. “My brother a serial killer? Why am I not surprised he’d be suspected?”

  She steps in. “Try not to break anything, though I don’t know how he’d have the time to do anything. His out-of-prison job kept him working eighty hours a week.”

  The cops all enter the house and start doing a room-to room-search. “His room is down the hall on the right.”

  “Which way to the basement?” Mitchell asks her.

  “Through the kitchen,” she points to the direction.

  “Thanks. We’ll try and make this as quick as possible.”

  As he enters the basement, Jackie walks behind him. Turning on the lights, there is no one there. They come up from the basement and find Zach has checked the bedrooms. He shakes his head as they approach him.

  “Nothing here,” he says.

  Mitchell turns to the sister who is smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer. “Miss--”

  “My name is Marsha Harris.”

  “OK, Marsha Harris, is there any place your brother would have a storage space or anything at all?”

  She shakes her head as she takes a pull on her cigarette and then breathes the smoke out at the detective.

  “I’m his sister, not his mother.”

  “We still need to know anything you can tell us.”

  She sets the beer down on the table. “He works and comes home, then he eats and sleeps. No, he does not have a storage space that I know of. You need a credit card for those and the card companies don’t issue to ex-cons. He screwed up as a kid and then tried to turn his life around and got killed in a car accident three days ago. That’s everything I can tell you.”

  “OK, then. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

  She tips her beer to the police. “When one of you guys are done your shift, come over. I could use a little comforting as a grieving sister.”

  As the cops start loading back into their vehicles, a dark-colored SUV drives by the house and they hear the phone ringing inside the house. Mitchell and Jackie walk over to an open window to hear the conversation.

  “Hey Cole,” Mitchell hears Marsha say.

  “The cops? They thought that John might have been the whack job serial killer in the news. Yeah, I got the money for the phone and cable, thanks.”

  The phone hangs up, and Jackie and Mitchell go back to their car. As they head out of the neighborhood, Mitchell turns to Jackie. “So, when we get back –”

  “Check her relatives, just in case crime runs in the family.”

  * * *

  Colton’s heart feels like it’s about to break out of his chest as the police drive up the street. Too close for comfort. Would have done Marsha years ago but she would have a connection to him.

  Chapter 53

  M elissa points her hand gun at the wall of her garage. She pulls the trigger and the gun action works perfectly. She slides the gun back, checks her ammunition, loads the gun, and gets a bullet in the chamber ready to fire. She holsters the gun in her cargo pants pocket. After closing the door to the gun locker, she gets in the Cobalt, starts the engine, and opens the garage door. A message needs to be sent. Screw with Danil Burlomov and you don’t get out of it alive.

  Thirty-five minutes later, she pulls into the parking lot of Hero’s Sports Bar and Grill. From the outside, it appears to be an upstanding location. Too bad it will be closed by tomorrow. She drives out of the parking lot and parks her car up the road.

  Across the street from the bar, she wraps herself in newspapers and lies down on a bench. No one will take notice of a person sleeping outside, a perfect cover as she watches people leaving the bar. The couples walking hand in hand, having sex tonight probably. Just make sure she’s agreeing to it, guys, or I’ll be visiting you.

  As the parking lot empties, Melissa sits up and checks around her to make sure she is alone. Enabling the security camera blocker, she gets up and walks to the front entrance door. Trying the door to see if it is unlocked—no such luck—she then pulls her lock picks out of one of her pockets.

  Crouching down, she works on the deadbolt of the door. A top-of-the-line lock, apparently profits from drug sales affords you a higher level of security than a law-abiding citizen gets. Not high enough though.

  Soon she gains access to the bar, enters and closes the door behind her, she stands at the alarm panel while she accesses another app on her phone and turns off the alarm.

  Taking out her silenced handgun, she finds the stairway to the loft and starts treading lightly up the stairs. At the top, she hears the man brushing his teeth and humming to himself. Wait until he’s asleep.

  She walks back down to the bar and takes down a bottle of Captain Morgan and a glass. She fills the glass and starts nursing the drink. Don’t get drunk on the job. Would be bad to get nailed for drunk driving after having killed someone. It would undoubtedly end up on the list of stupid criminals stories. Slamming the drink back, forget this. Just get it done.

  She pulls a mask down from her hoodie and, taking five seconds a step, she walks on her toes up the stairs and then she enters the room. “John Ferris?”

  He looks up from his book. “Who are you?”

  “From your friend.”

  She pulls the trigger and hits him twice in the chest and once in the head.

  Melissa walks back down the stairs. Behind the bar is the safe. She takes out her mobile phone and starts a stethoscope app while connecting an ear bud to the phone. Cracking the safe like an expert, she opens it up and stuffs her pockets with as much money as they will hold. As she leaves, she takes the bottle of Captain Morgan and the glass she drank it from.

  * * *

  Leaving the dungeon, Colton has a scratch on his face and a bloody nose. Little bitch, should have zapped them both before having some fun. Remember that for next time. He walks into his kitchen and gets a plastic bag from a drawer to put some ice in it before he sits at the kitchen table.

  What problems women cause your life. Bitches, all of them. Might have been a mistake to take two at once. Should I kill one of them n
ow or both? A beer would go down good at a time like this.

  From the chair, he opens the nearby refrigerator and pulls out a can of beer. Forget about women for a few minutes.

  * * *

  Back home from her job, Melissa counts the money while drinking the rum from the bottle. Ten thousand dollars is the take.

  With this money, she might buy one of those all-in-one gyms, if there’s ever an escape. Not quite as good as a kettlebell or barbell, as far as bodyweight goes—not enough body weight on her to make it exercise.

  According to the information that she read from the file, Jason Edwards should be home from work tomorrow evening around six, plenty of time to recover from tonight’s damage. She puts the money in her safe.

  On second thought, start setting up the escape account before doing the job. Once free, she can live life how it was supposed to be, at least until he finds and kills me. Maybe take that pizza kid wherever she ends up. He seemed like a good kid anyway. Maybe there are some good guys left. And maybe, just maybe they’ll take a well-worn woman if she has enough money to support both her and whoever else she happens to be with. And how can I expect a man to treat me right when I think of myself that way? But I can’t endanger him. Any guy would be in mortal danger if they were with her. Maybe the escape will be to the prison of lifetime celibacy.

  Chapter 54

  T he last of the potential Drowner suspects walks out of the interview room after being cut loose by Mitchell. Zach and Jackie then join him in the room. With his shoulders and back hunched over and feet scuffing on the floor as he walks in, Zach flops down into a chair, tossing his notebook and pen onto the table.

  “So back to square one?” he says glancing down at the floor. Looking up at Jackie he continues, “Still think I’ve done great work?”

  She shrugs. “Yeah, we eliminated suspects.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “We didn’t get the man who’s doing this.”

  “We will,” Jackie says.

  “Yeah,” Mitchell agrees. “One angle we can try is to find out where Melissa Vance lives. If she’s the surviving victim, follow her and the unsub might catch up.”

  “How about we bait him with a cop who might be of similar size to his victims?” Jackie says.

  “What are you thinking?” Mitchell asks.

  “We can’t put a civilian woman at risk, so put on the website and Facebook page the address of where we have her, claim this is the surviving victim,” Jackie says.

  “Could work,” Zach says.

  “You work on that Jackie,” Mitchell says. “I’ll get the team on following Melissa.”

  “What do you need me to do?” Zach asks.

  “You’ve got to come up with something.”

  Zach looks up to the detectives. “The sister of John Harris, ask her if anyone she knows fits the profile, other than her dead brother. I’ll spend the night coming up with ideas. The free hotel coffee maker’s going to get a good workout tonight.”

  He gets up from his seat and leaves the interview room.

  Jackie takes his seat. “Tomorrow we interview at Organized Crime?”

  * * *

  An hour later in his hotel room, Zach has a case of beer open on the second bed drinking from one bottle. On a legal pad of paper, he has started a list with one item written on it—interview Marsha Harris. How hard can it be to come up with ideas to nail this bastard?

  Follow Marsha Harris. If the man that did it is related to her, he wouldn’t do her. They would eventually meet up at family reunions, dinners, or just coffee. That might work. Or it might not.

  He checks his gun, emptying the bullets out. He spins the cylinder to check its smooth operation. He loads one bullet into the cylinder.

  Chapter 55

  T he next day, Jackie puts her phone away as she and Mitchell are riding the elevator to the thirteenth floor, the location of the Organized Crime section of the police department.

  “Gone to Zach’s voicemail?” Mitchell asks.

  “Yeah. I thought having a thirteenth floor in a building would be considered bad luck?” Jackie asks.

  Mitchell shrugs, “Doesn’t pay to be superstitious for police.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. How did that all start?”

  As the door opens Mitchell says, “My guess would be two thousand years ago when the thirteenth Roman legion was wiped out by the Germans. They never had another legion with that number again.”

  “They’re still influencing the world.”

  Torres greets them coming out of his office, “Welcome back to my humble abode.”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Jackie say.

  Torres winks at her and then points to the interview room. “This way. Where’s the FBI guy?”

  “At his hotel still, probably. Didn’t answer his phone,” Mitchell says.

  They follow him over to the interview room. “First up is Jessica King.”

  The woman is sitting at the end of the table as Torres and Mitchell enter and sit down opposite her while Jackie sets up the video camera.

  “Just so you know, detective,” Mitchell says, “at this point it’s an informal interview that is being recorded.” he points to the camera that Jackie is setting up. “She’ll be in the monitor room.”

  “OK,” Jessica says. Her back ram-rod straight, she looks Mitchell straight in the eye.

  “And you are entitled to have your union rep here,” Torres says.

  Jessica shakes her head. “Don’t need him.”

  Mitchell starts with the standard beginning question of an interview to gauge body language responses. Once finished, he begins the meat of the interview. “OK then. You know about what we’re investigating?”

  “Someone redacted the name of one of The Drowner victims from ten years ago.”

  “Yes. It’s important we find her.”

  “Don’t know how I can help you on that.”

  “We believe she’s connected to the Russian mafia, as a contract killer. And she’s a vigilante who’s killed rapists.”

  “If she’s killed men who’ve raped women, don’t know how to feel bad about that,” she says.

  “You don’t have to,” Mitchell says. “If she’s connected to the Russian Mafia that means there’s a mole in the police department.”

  “And how do you draw that conclusion?” Jessica asks.

  “A cop would have access to that information, a criminal would try to stay out of a police station,” Mitchell answers.

  Jackie watches in the monitor room as Jessica leans forward in the chair and Torres is tapping his fingers on his knees and eyeing his phone.

  “Well, it isn’t me.”

  “I hope not.”

  “There’s no hope here at all. It’s not me.”

  “Have you noticed any of your unit acting differently?” Mitchell asks.

  She leans back in the chair. It’s the ultimate betrayal when a cop goes to the dark side, “In what way?”

  “Spending that is beyond what could be afforded under a police salary.”

  Torres restrains a smirk knowing that he’s been careful not to live a high life.

  “No one that I know of.”

  “Anyone that has money problems?”

  “Tom Parker’s child is sick. Needs money for an operation.”

  Torres phone rings. “Excuse me, please.” He stands up and steps out of the room, coming back almost as quickly as he left.

  “I’m sorry, Jess,” he says to her as Mitchell looks up at him.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “I need you to give me your badge and gun.”

  “What are you talking about?” she says jumping up, knocking the chair over.

  “Acting on a tip. There was a search done at your house. One kilo of cocaine was found in your home.”

  “You know me! You know it must have been planted!”

  “Turn around, detective.” Jessica does as she’s
instructed with her hands behind her back. Tears well up in her eyes as Torres takes her gun from her holster and her badge from her pocket after he slaps the cuffs on wrists.

  “You know this is wrong,” she insists. “The drugs were planted. I was with a guy over the weekend. It was probably him.”

  Two uniformed police officers escort her out of the room. Torres looks at Mitchell. “Looks like we got our mole.” I’m safe from your probe.

  Mitchell purses his lips. That was easier than expected.

  “I’ll get a court order to check her bank records. See if anything is fishy,” Torres says.

  “You do that.”

  “Anything wrong?” Torres asks.

  “Not really, no.”

  Jackie enters the room. “Got our mole then?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jackie starts packing up the camera as Mitchell sits tapping his fingers on the table. Torres leaves the room.

  “We’ll go over the recording when we get back to the office.”

  Jackie nods.

  * * *

  Colton has found the location of the post office where his target has her box. At six in the morning, it is not open yet and his shift starts in forty minutes. He does a gunshot move with his right hand. “You’re soon to be mine again, Melissa. Mine, mine, mine.”

  Forty minutes later, he is walking into the custodial lounge of his university. With the start of the shift, each custodian has his or her keys and their two-way radios on. None of them look up when Colton opens his locker to change into his work shoes. Occupational health and safety regulations require steel or composite toe and shank footwear, but he would wear that anyway; makes it easier to cause someone to fall if they get kicked in the knee.

  Darren, the union shop steward, hands him a sheet with union letterhead. “The union wants an evaluation from the membership as to my performance as shop steward.”

  Colton laughs as he sits down at the table. “Well, no more mister nice guy.”

  Clenching his jaw, Darren is watching Colton fill out the survey. Colton looks up at him, “What?”

  “Nothing, just want to get this done.”