“I’m not sure, yet, but I’ll come up with something.”
“If I can be of any help, let me know.”
“I will. But what about you? You seemed somewhat distracted today.”
“Well, I’m still puzzled by the motive Quincy would have for killing Ashlee. She was not a drug user and I doubt very much that they ran in the same circles.”
“Do you really think Quincy killed her?”
“I actually do. However, he has a strong defense based on what he told us. It will be very hard to make the charge stick unless we unearth something new.”
“Suppose he did not really do it? Then what?” Chelsea asked. She had been considering such a possibility, although she had come down hard on him during questioning.
“Maybe he didn’t do it. He is into drugs, but if that’s all, there’s no motive...”
“Sometimes there doesn’t need to be a motive. Not every killer plans on who to kill and why.”
She shook her head. What Quincy had said made her believe he was responsible for Ashlee’s death, but why? She seemed like a regular college student and she was not into drugs. Well so it seemed at the moment, until they talked to her boyfriend, who they were not yet able to locate.
“Why do you think we cannot find Austin Rodriquez?”
“I actually don’t know.”
“Do you know something I don’t?”
She watched as his reaction changed for a split second, but he regained his composure quickly.
“No. I know as much as you do,” he answered smoothly.
They drove along in silence for a while. Then she said, “I hope we get a breakthrough soon. I hate it when there is nothing solid to go on and we are groping at straws. Maybe we are looking at this all wrong.”
“I feel the same way too, but have you asked yourself how he came to know about your parents?”
“That is anyone’s guess, but disturbing nonetheless. “He is thirty-one so when my parents were murdered he would have been only sixteen.”
“What city are you originally from?” Dean asked.
“Why does that matter?”
“There might be an overlap between you and Quincy that we don’t know about.”
“I am from here,” she said slowly. “I lived on the southwest side of town though.”
“Earlier you told me you had relocated to here.”
“To the east side,” she said slowly.
“Well, tomorrow we will look and see if maybe there is something connecting you and Quincy all those many years ago.”
Her mind trailed off for a moment as she rummaged through all the memories of her childhood trying to recollect ever hearing the name Quincy.
“Now I think of it, there was a woman in our neighborhood named Quincy, Gabrielle Quincy.”
Chelsea remembered her because she lived in the seedier part of town and kept much to herself and would not let her children out to play with others. Rumor had it that she was on drugs and treated her children badly.
“Do you think Quincy is related to her?”
“That I’ll have to check and find out,” she said as she pulled into the morgue’s parking lot. “We’ll talk later.”
Quickly she got out of the car and entered the building using her security badge. Dean followed closely behind her. Pushing open the heavy glass door she saw Josie sitting at a desk entering data from files into the computer database. This was tedious but important work Chelsea was glad she didn’t have to do.
“Hi, Chelsea, Dean,” Josie said getting up. “Just give me a moment and I will call Cara.”
Chelsea watched as she disappeared down the corridor to fetch her sister. With her auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail, Josie did not look like she was twenty-years-old. She still appeared like she should be in high school rather than in college studying to become a lawyer.
Cara appeared shortly afterwards and motioned for them to follow her. The morgue was probably the creepiest place that Chelsea had ever visited. She could recall how one evening while she was getting a report on a teenager who had died suspiciously, she could have sworn that one of the bodies moved. Cara explained that this happened sometimes due to gases moving around in the body. That did nothing to calm her fears and she often wondered if the stories she heard about ghosts hanging around the morgue might not be true.
“Did you find anything of interest to us?”
“Yes,” she said, as they stepped into the morgue. They all pulled on lab coats before she uncovered the body.
“She was several weeks pregnant and she also had traces of cocaine in her wounds. That came from the knife which most likely was also used to cut the coke.”
“That means she did not test positive for any drugs,” Dean inquired.
“No. I am going to take the fetus’s DNA and see if it matches that of anyone we may have in our system.” Josie informed them.
“Good idea. It also means we must find her elusive boyfriend. He might definitely know something.” Chelsea said.
“Yes, but before you go, look at these x-rays of her fibula. You see the fracture?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“The x-rays on the right are from when she visited the doctor nearly two months ago and the ones on the left are the ones I took this morning. She broke it again presumably while trying to run away from her attacker. That made her an easier victim, and whoever did this severed her aorta before inflicting these other wounds. This would suggest some sort of rage.”
“Was there anything underneath her nails?”
“No, which suggests her attacker was fully covered so that her efforts to fight him off did not register on his skin. The person who murdered her came prepared. He knew what he was doing.”
“How do you know it is a male?”
“These wounds are deep. Women are generally weaker than men. Obviously you might want to look for a woman too, but she would have to be extremely strong to inflict these kinds of wounds.”
“Thanks, Josie, you have given us quite a bit of food for thought. Call me if you find out anything else.”
“I will, and I do hope you catch this brute. He must be brought to justice.”
Chapter Seven
Worry is a misuse of imagination. ~ Dan Zadra
As they returned to the car, Chelsea and Dean talked over the new information they recently received. It sounded like a male who could possibly be Ashlee’s boyfriend, especially since she was pregnant. They had to find this bastard and soon. All efforts so far had failed to locate him, but he couldn’t be gone that far. But if Rodriquez was the killer, then that would mean Quincy was speaking the truth about his innocence. The case needed serious re-thinking. No questions about that
“Do you want me to drop you home?” Chelsea asked.
Dean hesitated a moment, then said, “How about some food first?”
“I don’t see why not.” She had not had a proper meal since that hurried cup of coffee in the morning.
“Great, it will be my treat. Do you like Mexican food?”
“I am not all too sure about that. I usually have soup.”
“Well, you will eat some real food today. In the mean time we can continue pondering the details of the case.”
“Sounds good to me. By the way, where are we going?”
“Broadway and Kolb.”
That meant she would have to pass her building and turn off at the next left. On her return, she would drop Weston off then return home.
“You need to get into the left lane.”
This she did. The steady flow of the traffic kept her occupied but that did not prevent her from observing the way Dean was watching her, somewhat furtively. She pretended not to notice and wondered what he had on his mind. Suddenly, she saw Kolb coming up ahead.
“Where should I turn?”
He looked out the window and pointed. “At the sign that says Macayo.”
She saw an orange building with blue trim and wondered how she had ne
ver noticed it before. She pulled in. It did not appear to be too busy as there weren’t many cars in the parking lot.
“Why is it so – colorful?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t design it.”
Quite right. She smiled at her stupidity. They went inside. It was spacious and with an attractive décor. They had created a fiesta theme with bright colors that went well together. It was a little wild, but she liked it.
The waiter seemed to know Dean and led them to a table for two tucked away in a cozy corner. She wondered how often he came there and with whom.
Dean ordered something to drink and as they waited they chatted.
“So why did you become a cop, Dean?”
“As strange as it might sound, I was inspired by my family who were always on the opposite side of the law. I eventually figured that the knowledge I had about people like them would be a great asset to me if I ever decided to become a cop, which is what I eventually did.”
“So they were involved with drugs?”
“Yes, and I couldn’t stand to see how it destroyed their lives and those who they sold the drugs to. I decided not to be a part of that and so I broke free from it.”
“Did they not know you were a cop?”
“No, I never told them and since I was always undercover they did not figure this out until one of my personal informants turned on me.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because the person wanted something I was not prepared to give.”
“And what was it that he wanted?”
“She wanted me to sleep with her, and I am not in the habit of sleeping with the people I work with in such situations. It can be deadly.”
“I see,” was all that Chelsea said. But her mind kept working on that one. Was he giving her some sort of a signal? She was not sure, but she would certainly bear this in mind.
“Now you have heard about me, is there anything I should know about you?” Dean was smiling at her in an enigmatic manner.
“No there isn’t. Well, I mean, I don’t think there is anything else you need to know about me.”
“Well, that means, I won’t know much then. We don’t just have to know each other at work… there’s life beyond that….”
“I don’t see any reason for getting into that...,” her usual defensiveness kicked in.
“So you never get personal with any of your co-workers?”
“I have never had any reason to do so.”
“Well, mightn’t you have now?” he was looking at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable.
“Why do you say that?”
“Come on Chelsea…don’t be coy… you must know that my interest in you goes beyond work.”
She could not help it as a blush spread all over her face and her heart was beating erratically.
“I think it is best to keep my personal life separate from work and…and…,” she stammered, not knowing what else to say.
“Why, Chelsea?”
“Because the people I tend to get attached to always seem to end up getting hurt.” There. It was out and it was like a great burden was lifted off her shoulders.
Dean looked at her with sympathetic eyes. “I’m sorry you have been hurt so badly, Chelsea, that you’re afraid to trust again. Is it because of your parents that you think like this?”
“No. It happened with a friend too.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
His voice was calm and comforting. His dark brown eyes showed that he really seemed to care. She hesitated, but then gave in.
“It was during my junior year in high school and I was living in one of those wretched foster homes where nobody cared. There was a boy, Michael, who had an abusive mom while his father was away someplace overseas, unaware of what was happening. We were drawn to each other and became good friends, always looking out for each other.
Of course, the other children at school always teased and bullied us because we were wards of the state. Sometimes it would make me so mad, I felt like wiping out the whole bunch. But this particular girl, Yasmine, and her friends had it in for Michael. They made his life miserable and one day they beat him up and pushed him down the stairs.
Unfortunately, he hit his head and lapsed into a coma just at the time when his father found out where he lived and had come to take him home. I was filled with rage and so one day I waylaid Yasmine so I could get her alone, and I beat her within an inch of her life. I don’t take kindly to someone hurting the ones I love.”
“So you are one kick-ass woman who does not go down without a fight, and you seem bent on getting back at those who hurt you.”
Chelsea was not sure if he was making a statement or admiring her for what she had done. But it did not matter.
A waitress brought them the menu, took their drinks order and left.
“Do you ever regret what you did?”
“No,” she said evenly. “I probably should, but she took away my only friend and someone’s son. She deserved what she got.”
They were silent for a moment as the waitress brought their drinks and took the rest of their order. She let Dean choose from the menu since he knew the different dishes. He ordered the same for the two of them.
“Well, well, Chelsea Preston, you’re quite a woman. I certainly would not want to be your enemy.”
“I hope you understand better why I became a cop and why solving my parents’ murder is so important to me.”
“I certainly do, and if you’ll accept my offer, I’ll certainly like to help you.”
The time went by quickly as they discussed the ins and outs of the Thompson case and what else they needed to do in trying to bring everything together.
The food was hot and spicy, but delicious and as they got ready to leave, Chelsea could not remember feeling so good for a long time. Dean was turning out to be a real friend - someone she could talk to and unburden herself without feeling self-conscious. This might be part of what she was missing all these years when she kept everything bottled up inside, refusing to come out of her shell or to let in anyone.
Chapter Eight
The walls we build around us to keep the sadness out also keeps out the joy. ~ Jim Rohn
As they were leaving the restaurant, she had the distinct feeling that someone was watching her. She glanced around, but no one stood out. Maybe it was her imagination. But that did not make her feel any less edgy. Criminals were good at concealing themselves in the public. They acted like regular people when, in reality, they were not. They were the masters of disguise and knew how to trail a person, unseen and undetected.
Noticing her edginess, Dean asked, “Is everything all right?”
Giving him a somewhat embarrassed look, she said, “Yes. I just…never mind. I am perfectly fine.” She lied.
As they approached the car, she heard her phone ringing. Fishing it out of her pocket, she noticed that it was a blocked call.
Remembering the threatening call she had received in the morning, she hesitated, then answered in her most belligerent voice.
“What do you want?” she barked.
“Someone is just a little too tense wouldn’t you say? I would suspect someone on a date would be a little calmer and probably happy.”
Immediately, she swung around, scanning the street and the faces of people passing by. Perhaps he was in a car across the street.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
She remained silent.
“I want you to back off this case. Ashlee Thompson died because she too did what your parents did.”
This touched a nerve. “My parents were upstanding citizens and would never have associated with scum like you.”
She listened as he chuckled on the other side of the line. “You never really knew your parents then, did you? Do me a favor Preston, stay away from the Ashlee Thompson case.”
“No, I won’t.”
“That is fine then. I do hope you enjoy the present I
left you in your apartment. Just know I can get to you as easily as I got in… again, I’m warning you, back of the Thompson case. If you don’t, you’re likely to end up like your parents. You’d better listen to what Justin Quincy said to you today!”
Chelsea was shaking, but tried to put on a brave front.
“I will find you, you beast! You can’t hide forever and I won’t back off and I’m not afraid of you!”
“You should be. Your parents most certainly were. If you proceed, it will be your funeral, not mine,” he said, and with a click the phone went dead.
She turned and nearly collapsed in Dean’s arm. Her face was deathly pale and her she was trembling.
“What is the matter, Chelsea?”
“Ask the Department to send a SWAT team immediately to my apartment, I think something has happened or is about to.”
Noting the condition she was in, Dean took over the driving and when they arrived the SWAT team and several other police cars were already on the scene.
Chelsea felt numb with fear not knowing what they would find. From the parking lot she could see her apartment was open and Pierce was coming out, holding an evidence bag. He came downstairs where, too weak to go up the stairs, she was still seated in the car.
“Can you tell me what is going on here, Chelsea?” His face was grim.
“What is that you’re holding?” She asked.
He showed it to her. Her heart leaped as she recognized her old stuffed teddy bear. She had not seen him for years and she remembered how she used to cuddle with him at night, especially when she was afraid.
“You look like you have seen a ghost,” Dean said.
“What is the significance of this bear?”
“He was my favorite stuffed animal when I was a child. He has been missing from the day of my parents’ murder.” She shivered as she remembered finding her parents’ bloody bodies.
“Who gave this to you?” Pierce asked, perhaps a little too harshly.
Searching her memory, she recalled that her teddy had not been a gift from either of her parents. Her teddy had come with a bouquet of flowers on her fifth birthday.
“Isaac Welsh. He is my uncle.”
Pierce nodded and he clenched his jaw. “I need you to follow me upstairs.”
Romantic Thriller: Only Time Will Tell – A Romantic Suspense and Romantic Mystery Book: (Thriller Romance, Suspense, Mystery Romance, Suspense Romance) Page 5