by Amy Andrews
Walking into the precinct, his Lieutenant, Sara Witten, a fire cracker of a redhead, motioned him into her office. She looked svelte as usual in her navy blue pantsuit, with her hair piled loosely on top of her head, as it always was. She handed him a cup of coffee exactly the way he liked it. Black. Just black, no cream, no sugar. “Shane,” she said in a grim voice, “I know we all had a long night last night, but after you drink this, I need you to hop back on that motorcycle of yours and head over to the Seminole State Park. I received a call about five minutes ago from dispatch. Detectives Wilshire and Layne are already on their way there.”
She sighed as she leaned with the fingers of both hands splayed on top of her file strewn mahogany desk, and shook her head in discontent. “A body has been discovered. Young female. Beaten so badly, she’s unidentifiable. A couple of uniforms are already on the scene. I gave them strict instructions to tape it off, and not to touch anything. They are waiting for some of my guys to get there. Forensics will be right behind you.” She stood erect and placed her hands on her hips.
Lenny swallowed a long slow sip of his black java. Raising his mug as if making a toast he said, “Just another day at the office. I’m on it Lieutenant.” He reached over and put his free hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze to console her.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get the son of a bitch. I promise.” She nodded in appreciation of his gesture, and gave him a faint smile. “I never doubt your skills, Detective Shane. Or your fabulous use of resources. Your methods might sometimes be outside the box, but you always get the job done.”
Completely changing the mood, she peered around Lenny through the wall of windows in her office that looked out over her team, she said, “And where the hell are Leopold and Thorne?”
Lenny glanced back towards the sea of metal desks. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Haven’t seen them or heard from them.”
“Well,” she sighed. “If you see or talk to either one, tell them to get their asses over there. Pronto.”
He nodded once, and just as cool as a cucumber said, “We’ll do.”
Lenny sucked down the rest of his freshly brewed java. Exiting the station, he hopped back on his bike, and headed towards Seminole State Park, on the outskirts of town. During the thirty minute ride, his mind drifted.
Thorne was a good partner…when he decided to show up on time. Lenny was on the fence about letting him sleep in the bed he was making for himself. He was no rat, but man he was getting tired of covering for the dude. Sara wasn’t just his Lieutenant. She was a long time colleague as well as a friend, and he didn’t like lying to her to cover Thorne’s ass. The guy had some serious Mommy issues going on or something. He was constantly late for work, especially over the past two weeks, and he bragged about sleeping with more women than Lenny had fingers and toes. At first, it was amusing, but now it was damn near infuriating. He would never talk about it, so Lenny didn’t know what his deal was. He just claimed to be “having fun,” and that the “old man needed to lighten up.” If you had a partner that you couldn’t count on, you might as well not have one at all. Hence, the reason he took the rookie, Leopold under his wing. She looked up to and respected him. She was eager to make a name for herself and move up ranks. Lenny admired her ambition, and knew without a doubt she would one day achieve her goals. She was the daughter that he and Tessa never had. A car accident had left Tessa with a broken pelvis, rendering her physically unable to carry a child to term. They had considered adoption, surrogacy, and fostering, but in the end decided that being parents was just not in the cards for them. Their only children throughout their years together came with four legs, fur, and a tail. As for Thorne, he wasn’t surprised a bit that he was late, but it was unlike Leopold to not be sitting behind her desk drinking her Starbucks caramel mocha latte, thirty minutes before her shift started. She reminded Lenny of himself when he first got onto the force. Eager and ambitious. Always looking for the next case that could catapult her career.
Roaring into Seminole, Detective Shane parked his bike, and walked towards the yellow crime scene tape. There were several private citizen by standers gawking at the gruesome scene, that the uniforms had already taped off. Lenny flashed his badge, and ducked under the tape. Upon seeing him, his partner, Detective Bobby Thorne came rushing over to him.
“Hey Shane.”
“Hey yourself.” Lenny crossed his arms over his chiseled chest and cocked an eyebrow. “Why weren’t you at the station this morning? And when the hell did you get here,” Lenny asked with curiosity.
“Another wild night,” Bobby said while giving a wink. “I just got here five minutes ago.” Holding up his cell phone he said, “Lieutenant phoned me.”
“Where’s Leopold?” Lenny asked, glancing around.
With a look of confusion on his face, Bobby said, “Uhhh, I don’t know. Why would I know? We patrolled our area until about one in the morning, and then I dropped her back off at her place,” he lied.
Looking Bobby directly in his beady blue eyes, Lenny squinted, as though thinking. He shook his head in approval, and offered a “Hmmm.” Nodding over towards the body, he asked, “so what do we have?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Bobby replied, “female victim. She was beaten pretty badly. Mid twenties. No identification. Prepare yourself before you go over there. It’s bad.”
Lenny forced a small smile in appreciation for the heads up. He was a good cop. A damn good cop. There wasn’t much he hadn’t seen in his thirty five years on the force, and he doubted this would be any different. His partner of six months had been in the homicide division for less than five years. Still a baby as far as Lenny was concerned.
Detective Shane walked towards the victim, who was covered from head to toe in a white sheet, stained with spots of crimson red. He motioned with his arm for the CSI snapping photos to step back.
“Were you able to get photos of the shoe prints around the body, before all of these people started traipsing on my crime scene?” he asked the CSI.
“I did the best I could, sir,” the CSI with blonde hair said with a slight quivering in his voice. “A lot of these people were already here when I got here.”
“Everyone stop!” Lenny’s voice boomed. All of the people working on the scene stopped in their tracks, and turned towards Detective Shane. “I want anyone who has been near this body, to get your shoe soles photographed before you leave.”
Grabbing the CSI by the shoulder, Detective Shane whispered to him, “that includes law enforcement. You understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Detective Shane sent the CSI over towards the private citizens to snap the photos. Snapping a pair of latex gloves on, he squatted down next to the Jane Doe. Reaching for the top corner of the sheet, Lenny took a long and slow breath to brace himself for the gruesome scene that he was about to see. It was a necessary evil of being a homicide detective. His stomach was iron cast, but none the less, he never liked to see it, because what it really meant was that someone out there had lost someone they love. Possibly a wife, a mother, a daughter, a friend.
Lenny slowly peeled back the shroud. The victim was lying face down, with her head turned to the side. Her shoulder length brown tresses were matted with leaves, sand, and various outdoor debris. Bobby was right. She had suffered severe trauma about the face. Both eyes were purple and swollen shut. Lenny could tell that her nose was broken due to the offset nature of it. Dried blood from her nostrils had crusted on and around her mouth and chin. The swelling made her damn near unrecognizable. Lenny continued peeling back the covering
He moved to the victims hands to examine them. Strange. This victim had no defensive wounds to speak of, except a small abrasion on her right knuckles. This told him one of two things. Either she was restrained during the attack, or she knew her attacker and was caught off guard and didn’t get a chance to react before getting the living hell beat out of her. Lenny examined her wrists for ligature marks. No signs. He then took his gloved
hands and gently palpitated the area to see if there was any resistance from any sticky residue left on the skin. Bingo. Lenny smirked as he said softly, “Here’s your first mistake, you son of a bitch.” Moving down to her ankles, Lenny lifted her stone washed denims to check her ankles for the same residue. The victims ankles had not been restrained in the same manner. He moved to the soles of her Reebok’s. Looking up at the two CSI, that were chatting off in the corner, Lenny called out like he just won the lottery, “Evidence! I need an evidence collection bag! Bring me some tweezers and some pliers too.”
Peering up at Thorne who was standing over him watching his every move, Detective Shane asked, “don’t you have some evidence to collect or some witness statements to take or something?”
Thorne ignored Shane’s rhetorical request to get the hell away from. “I think Detectives Wilshire and Layne have it under control,” he said coolly, as he continued to loom uninvited over Detective Shane
Lenny reached into his pocket and popped a piece of Wrigley’s into his mouth, to distract himself from punching Thorne in the ball sack. His partner or not, Thorne was really starting to get on his last nerve. Grinding the soothing spearmint gum between his molars had a calming effect on him for some reason, and he was able to refocus his energy back towards the vic.
The male CSI with the spiked blonde hair opened his evidence kit and handed the requested items to Lenny. Grasping the bag in his left, and the tweezers in his right, he lifted the victims left leg to get a better look. He could see a small round metal cylinder embedded in the vic’s shoe. He grasped the edges of it and pulled. The cylinder didn’t budge, and the tweezers weren’t going to do the job.
Setting the tweezers down, Lenny grabbed the needle nose pliers. He had to hold the shoe on so it didn’t slip off from the force at which he had to pull. The hallow metal cylinder was as big as a one inch wood dowel. Placing it in his hand, Lenny rolled it around and examined it. He pinched it between his thumb and index finger and rolled it between them. Raising it up to eye level, he closed one eye and examined the center. He reached for the tweezers and pulled out a tiny scroll that was the size of a fortune in a cookie.
Unwinding it, his eyes read left to right. Left to right. Over and over again. He stood up, even though he should have stayed on the ground to maintain his wavering equilibrium. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His face grew red with anger as he gritted his teeth. He palmed the note in his left hand so tightly, his knuckles turned white. He closed his eyes and moved his other hand over to his left breast pocket. His head fell forward in regret. He should have retired six months ago, when Tessa first brought it up. Getting his composure once again, he unfurled the note and read it one more time.
Detective Shane,
I didn’t give you the opportunity to save this one…
but I will give you 24 hours to save the next. Let the game begin.
Shaking his head slowly, he mumbled, “Oh God, no. Not now.”
Some psycho lunatic with a hard on for him was the last thing he needed right now. Great. Just fucking great. There goes his retirement announcement, and probably his vacation with Tessa, and probably his marriage too. Now what the hell was he going to do? “Oh, sorry Tess, I was going to take you on a great tropical vacation, and tell you I was going to retire, but some psycho asshole has it out for me, so as usual I’m putting my job first.” Yeah, he thought. That will go over like a damn lead balloon.
He dropped the metal cylinder into the collection bag, sealed it, and handed it to the CSI.
Detective Lenny Shane slyly stuffed the palmed note into the pocket of his Wranglers. It was concealing evidence, but this one was personal. What were they going to do? Suspend him? Take his badge? Big ass deal. He was planning on retiring anyway. Even if they took his pension away, he had invested his money wisely over the years.
Had he not been so numb, he would have noticed the look of satisfaction that had spread over his partner, Bobby Thorne’s face, as he turned and walked away from the body, with an ashen complexion.
CHAPTER EIGHT - MISSING
Detective Shane walked over to a private area, away from the crowd, and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Detective Leopold’s number. Getting only her voicemail, he pressed the end call button without leaving a message.
He quickly dialed his Lieutenant.
“Lieutenant Whitten,” she answered.
“Lieutenant,” he said quickly, “have you seen or heard from Leopold yet this morning?”
“No, I haven’t,” she said. “I called and left her a voicemail to head out to Seminole. Why, she’s not there?”
“Negative,” he said. “And I don’t feel good about this, Lieutenant. Thorne said he dropped her back at home last night…Do you mind if I send someone over to her house?”
“No, please do,” she said. “And, Shane, keep me posted, and I’ll do the same.”
“Will do, Lieutenant,” he said.
Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Detective Shane approached Detectives Wilshire and Layne, and said, “have either of you seen or talked to Detective Leopold today?”
“I haven’t,” Detective Wilshire said.
“No, why?” Detective Layne asked with concern.
“Well,” Lenny said, “she’s obviously not here, and no one has heard from her. Not even the Lieutenant, because I just called her to ask.”
Without waiting for further instruction, Layne said, “we got this,” as he tapped his partner on the shoulder, and signaled it was time for them to go.
#
Jumping into Detective Wilshire’s Mercedes, Layne repeatedly dialed her digits. The first time, he left a pleading voicemail to call him, or anyone back, to let them know she was okay.
By the twentieth time, he knew he had killed all chances of ever getting with her, because she would think that he was a psycho stalker, but he didn’t care. He just needed to know that she was okay, and he needed to know right now.
Detective Wilshire glanced at his partner, who was looking frazzled and frantic. “Chill out, dude,” he said. “Maybe she lost her phone, or dropped it in the toilet or something.”
Layne shoved his phone back into it’s holster. “That doesn’t explain why she wasn’t at the precinct, or at the crime scene this morning!” he snapped.
Wilshire nodded his head in agreement. “You got a point. Sorry, man, I’m just trying to make you feel a little better, until we can find out what’s going on.”
“I’m sorry too, for snapping at you,” Layne said. “I’ll just feel better when we find her. She was with Thorne last night. He’s shady, man,…and I don’t know why, but I don’t trust him. Never have.”
Layne leaned over to glance at the speedometer. Wilshire was doing sixty in a forty-five. Rubbing his hand over the smooth dash, he said, “this is supposed to be a high performance car, right?”
Wilshire and Layne locked stares, as Wilshire pushed the pedal down, and accelerated to eighty five.
Layne smiled in appreciation, and eased back in his seat. “That’s more like it.”
Arriving at Leopold’s condominium in record time, Whitten eased his Mercedes into a parking spot next to Leopold’s little red smart car.
Switching the ignition off, Wilshire said, “well, her car is here.”
Layne and Wilshire exited the Mercedes and approached the coral two-story building and knocked on the door marked C108.
Layne knocked aggressively and called out, “Leopold? Leopold, open up. Leopold, are you in there?”
There was no answer, so he tried the door to see if it was unlocked. No go.
Wilshire was thinking a little more clearly than Layne. “Hey partner,” he nudged Layne. “Let’s head to the back, and see if we have any luck there.”
Both Layne and Wilshire walked to the back of the complex, to try her screened lanai door. Bingo. They walked inside the tiled screened patio, and up to the sliding glass doors. Layne tried prying at the door, but the sli
ders were locked as well. There was a small pet door, but both of them were way to large to fit through it.
“Son of a bitch!” Layne cursed through gritted teeth.
From their outside view through the glass sliders, they could see the length of the condo, clean through to the front door, although they could not see into the bedroom or bathroom. The place was tidy and neat. Nothing looked to be disturbed.
Layne pounded on the glass, and continued calling for her.
Wilshire watched his partner, feeling helpless. “Do you want me to find the office and get a key to her place, so we can go in,” he asked.
Layne shifted on his feet, unsure of what the right call was. He wanted to know. He needed to know, but at the same time didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, and invade her privacy. “What do you think,” Layne asked, searching his partner’s eyes for the answer.
Wilshire reassuringly clasped his hand onto Layne’s shoulder. Looking him directly in the eyes, Wilshire said, “I think we need to do whatever it is we need to do, to get your mind straight. This is your call, partner. Everything looks to be in order, but if you need to go in to see for yourself, then I agree one hundred percent.”
Playing with his goatee, Layne thought about it for a brief second. “Go get the key,”
Wilshire left to go find the office, as Layne paced inside the screened lanai, continuing to call her number. Pressing his ear against the glass, he did not hear her phone ringing.
Wilshire returned, and held up a shiny chrome colored key. Both he and Layne walked back around the condo to the front door.
Walking inside, Layne made a bee line for the bed and bath area. Wilshire headed for the kitchen.
Inside her room, Layne could smell the clean and fresh scent of her perfume. Her bed was made, so he looked on top of her night stands to see if there was anything of use to indicate where she was. Nothing but a lamp, an alarm clock, a pack of birth control pills, and a sappy, erotic romance novel.