“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been hanging around Jordan.” Emily clicked more images around the building to complete the views.
“Yeah, just what I need more Jordan.”
“What’s this?” She asked.
Rick stood next to Emily and examined the control box used for electrical, and the wires appeared new. The bright red, green, and white wires hooked into a small camera, and then into a small black box about the size of a deck of cards.
“There’s no electricity to this building, right?” Emily surmised as she held the flashlight at various angles to see if there were any fingerprints or specific tool marks left behind.
“This building has been vacant for years, there wouldn’t be any power. Besides, if there was, the city would have definitely turned it off before addressing the fire.”
“It’s been wiped clean, no impression print of any kind, not even a scratch from manufacture or installation. Strange…” She studied the box a little more.
“What do you think it is? A new smart meter or something?” He watched her with curiosity.
Emily took more photos. Then she said, “Okay, so then they wouldn’t mind if I do this…” She took a small screwdriver from her pant pocket and carefully freed the mysterious black piece.
“Would it matter if the city did care?”
“No, but…” She put the small pieces into her lower side leg pocket. “Maybe…” Her voice trailed off.
“What?”
“I think that this murder was carefully planned for quite some time, calculated down the last second.” Emily turned, faced the building, and mentally calculated how many steps to the door. “I think there’s more to this scene that has been so painfully overlooked by fire inspectors and detectives.” She took the flashlight from Rick and waved the beam toward the building.
“The cops are looking for criminal access into the building, accelerant used, and even a blatant message of revenge left behind.” Rick explained.
Emily pried away crime scene tape and two pieces of plywood haphazardly nailed in place. She entered. “There has to be some type of receiver that connects somewhere in this building.” She disappeared into the darkened structure.
“Em… wait…” Rick’s voice stressed.
Emily pushed forward as her curious mind and unrelenting determination drove her. Her ambition could also be her greatest weakness. Her main objective was to solve the case and stop the arsonist before he killed again.
The stench of burnt wood and stagnant water made it difficult for her to breathe. She quickly cupped her left hand over her nose and mouth to try to gulp some fresh air.
The interior area of the structure unnerved her, and cranked up the creepiness factor the further she ventured into the blackened den. The burned out area looked like a macabre haven for the undead and Emily half expected to see zombies.
“Dammit Em…” Rick sounded annoyed. “Wait… it’s not safe…”
Emily could hear his footsteps quickly approaching from behind. “I’m fine Rick… I’m taking careful steps so that…”
As she took a right step, the floor felt peculiar under her weight. She quickly took a left step to balance her body weight. A splitting noise cracked loudly in her ears. The structure tweaked a high pitch, and finally exploded under her footing. Falling effortlessly into an abyss, Emily flapped her arms to grab hold of anything within her reach.
It was too late.
She fell through to the basement floor.
CHAPTER TEN
Wednesday 2250 Hours
The familiar glow of the computer screen cast an eerie light on the small one-room studio. It was one of three newly purchased laptops, which sat on a foldout utility table. Each computer was open to various chat rooms; different Internet crowds matched the three different screen names of the voyeur’s identity. All of which had youthful, even hip nicknames. It was like casting a fishing line into a large pond and waiting for the first fish to bite – and someone always took the bait.
The apartment, almost empty and absent of the usual furnishings, made for a convenient office. No couch or dining table resided. There were no toiletries in the bathroom, no pots or pans in the kitchen, and no artwork on the walls. It was a husk of a living environment, and suggested of something more threatening.
The dingy apartment was located in the one of the most crime-infested areas of the city, but it was only one of the temporary accommodations of five low-income residences. It made it easier for him to move around freely, and it helped to keep the people away who wanted him dead. The cops did not know about most of his places and that suited him just fine.
Timothy Devlin, careful and overly confident, still didn’t hamper his enjoyment of his odious fetishes and addictions to adolescent relationships. His dead lawyer had put a temporary kink into his free lifestyle, but he would deal with that situation when it came time to go to court again. He really did like the guy and respected how he handled all of his cases. It gave Timothy a class of distinction – even some decency.
A computer alert interrupted his contemplations.
SugarGirl17 responded to his request to chat privately.
That proverbial tingle began to ignite and move through his body; he needed something warm and young, and soon.
He smiled and quickly typed out a message.
FanBoy1996: looking 2 party
SugarGirl17: up for anything
Timothy focused in on the conversation. He knew that he had a lovely little girl in the chat room, ready for him, and ready for discovery in every way. He slowly typed out his response.
FanBoy1996: what do u like?
SugarGirl17: sniff and hard drink
FanBoy1996: How old are u?
SugarGirl17: old enough
That’s what he wanted to hear. He quickly glanced to the other chat rooms, and the conversations talked about movies and teen celebrities, nothing that interested him. He knew how to weed out the pack to gain the trust of one, special girl. It was one little girl that didn’t belong with the group, and wanted so much to be accepted and liked.
FanBoy1996: do u know where to party?
SugarGirl17: can party and crash at rock farm
Timothy thought for a moment, where had he heard that name before.
Rock farm?
He suddenly remembered; his fingers twitched as he hesitated to type out his next words. It was in a rural setting surrounded by trees and a lake. There wouldn’t be anyone camping or enjoying the lake this time of year. Everything fell into place.
FanBoy1996: what do u look like?
SugarGirl17: long blonde hair, thin
It was perfect. It sealed the deal in his mind and he couldn’t wait.
FanBoy1996: meet u at 1:30?
SugarGirl17: see u there
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Wednesday 2330 Hours
Blackened pieces of debris, some jagged and others splintered, along with clouds of heavy dust, showered on top of Emily. She protected her head as best as possible, and cupped her nose and mouth to keep from inhaling anymore of the building than necessary.
She waited for the deafening noise to stop.
During that terrifying moment, one thought raced numerous times through her mind. She knew that someday she would become a part of the crime scene. It was somehow her destiny in a crazy, twisted way.
The ear splintering noise stopped abruptly.
Only quiet resonated. Stunned, Emily thought that she had gone deaf from her fall. A few more creaks, groans, and powdery mist fizzled overhead.
Emily let out a quick sigh of relief, and then quickly focused on the damage she caused to the crime scene. From the impact, her back and right leg speared a hot pain, just enough to take her breath away, and then subsided. The black box she had inserted into her cargo pants felt imbedded into her leg.
“Em!” Rick’s voice shouted from above with a peculiar echoing sound. “Emily!”
“I’m… I�
�m okay…” Emily tried to sound like her usual tough self.
“Don’t move.” Rick had maneuvered himself to peer down through the gaping hole at her, shining a small pin flashlight. His face looked haunted and concerned. “I’ll get a rope. Don’t move.”
“No.” Emily slowly got to her feet, wobbly at first. “I’m okay. This must be the basement and that means there’s a way out.”
“Em, I don’t think that…”
“Just give me a minute…”
Emily searched the immediate area, and moved a few pieces of charred boards that had dropped. They were light and easy to move. From the extreme heat, it left hollow shells of timber in its wake. She spotted her flashlight and it looked intact. Immediately, she flipped it on, and the area lit up like an underground cavern.
Emily said with more authority, trying to lighten the mood, “Great flashlight. I’ll have to write the company and tell them how durable these things are.”
“The building isn’t safe. Don’t move.” Rick insisted.
“No, I think it is. Apparently, the one room up there was designed to burn quickly, leaving everything else mostly intact. Careful and precise planning…” She said more to herself than to Rick.
“The extreme heat had to weaken the rest of building.” He persisted.
Emily ignored his comment. “Not a lot of downtown buildings in California have basements like this, except historical buildings I suppose.”
“Which means what?”
“I think the killer used this basement access into the building to move around and set up his elaborate trap.”
Rick stared at her for a few tense moments, as if he pondered her revelation. “Then there should be an outside entrance. But we didn’t see one.”
“It’s well hidden, but I know it’s here. Look for an area that looks too tidy, or well-groomed, and I’ll find the exit from this side.” She explained.
Rick muttered something Emily couldn’t quite hear, as he carefully retraced his steps above to the original entry point.
Emily took a deep reassuring breath, and hoped that her theory was correct.
She directed the flashlight beam from the dirt floor down a narrow hallway. Even though the building had burned recently, the basement still had the typical musty, damp smell.
Emily’s skin felt clammy and chilled, as she moved slowly, and deeper into the underground passage. She was aware of the dirt floor, but could not see any visible footprints. Incredibly, it looked as if someone had prudently raked the floor.
Part of the basement had reinforced walls. The barriers steadily narrowed, and Emily couldn’t tell what direction she headed. Keeping her focus on locating an exit, she tried not to let her mind fall prey to claustrophobia.
The flashlight flickered.
“Don’t fail me now.” Emily muttered.
A strange scraping sound reverberated along the long corridor. At first, it sounded like the building may just implode into itself. As she studied the noise further, it reminded her of an old squeaky gate at the entrance of a graveyard.
With a slight shiver, Emily kept moving forward toward the noise.
A slim ray of light crept into her immediate view, about twenty feet in front of her path. It did not light up the basement, but the illumination gave a little more visibility to the dank dwelling.
The screech ended with an odd plunking noise.
She quickened her pace, hobbling slightly as she went.
“Em?” Rick’s body came into view, and he was dramatically backlit by the evening light. He looked like a hero coming to rescue her.
“I’m here.”
Relived, Emily squeezed through the slim opening that was once an entrance to the underground room.
“You okay?” Rick examined her leg.
“I’m fine. I want to get more photos because the fall smashed the camera. Well… it actually broke my fall.” She laughed. “Hopefully the internal card is still okay, but I want to be safe and get more photos.”
Rick retrieved his cell phone and gave it to Emily. He grabbed her arm with his usual intensity. “You’ve got to be more careful.”
Emily turned her full attention to him, even though her mind was several steps ahead in the investigation. “It’s okay, I’m fine.” She touched his cheek, and let it linger for a moment. “We would have never found out about this basement entrance if I had not fallen.” She smiled.
“You always turn situations like this around to the case, instead of your safety.”
Emily decided not to argue, but at moments like this, she realized how much she loved him. She didn’t know what she would do without him.
She took his cell phone and photographed the underground entrance. Hidden by old grocery store pallets and crates, it took cover in plain view. With inside and outside shots, she retraced previously taken photos.
Emily now realized that she had one of the important missing pieces, but she just had to figure out which one.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Thursday 0130 Hours
Feeling like a teenager that had just sneaked out of his parent’s house to go to a party, Timothy Devlin drove his car slowly down the dirt road. He relished the warm current pulsating throughout his body.
He needed warm flesh.
It was almost more than he could bear, but he kept everything under control because of the amazing rewards only minutes away. The hollow promises and compliments he had rehearsed relentlessly for the unsuspecting girl, shot through his memory with acute clarity.
Everything played out perfectly in his mind.
Casual greetings and nervous laughs pressed into his psyche.
He had once spoken to a therapist at the request of the court, during one of his trials, and she told him that he suffered from a borderline personality disorder compounded by an extremely immature outlook on life.
Whatever the hell that meant?
All he remembered from those meetings was that the therapist had fair-hair and a hot body, if only she was fifteen years younger, he might have done something about it. She had tried to get him to open up about his childhood and previous relationships.
So typical, when all else fails, ask about the childhood.
He slowed the car as the road narrowed slightly, and clicked up the headlights. The trees and bushes seemed to bend into the street with a macabre arch and claw, leaning toward the car, taunting him.
A little unsure if he should continue, Timothy decided to go for it, and punched the accelerator. The car lurched forward. The trees and brush scraped the sides of the car with a high-pitched tone. For a moment, he cringed, and pressed his back deeper into the seat half expecting something unearthly to creep into the vehicle.
Rolling down the window halfway, he took a breath of air. The breeze had a hint of humidity imbued with the autumn saturated earth. As he approached the location, he sighed with relief when the roadway widened again, as if to welcome him home after a long journey.
He had remembered the infamous barn. It was the remnant of another time, and it still stood vacant, and abandoned, as it had for so many years. It loomed, uninviting to visitors. It was a place for kids to party and hang out. Everyone knew about it, but no one really cared, until there was a murder a couple of years ago of a homeless man. Even that incident didn’t provoke the county to tear it down.
The dirt road dipped as the car bounced from the deep potholes, and the narrow lane broke into a fork in the road. The unevenness worked in every direction. Both lanes looked the same, long forgotten and ignored.
Timothy pressed the brake; the car hummed an unusually high pitch and sputtered. He looked in each direction. Traveling left pointed toward the pond area, and heading right must lead up to the barn.
He contemplated his decision.
With a quick jerk, he turned the steering wheel to the right, and pressed down enthusiastically on the gas pedal. The engine hit another gear. The car lurched, tires spun slightly in the loose dirt and gravel, unti
l traction took hold and then headed up the hill.
Once at the top of the hill, the landscape changed slightly. It transformed into an open and flat terrain. The trees and overgrown foliage were set back and away from the barn. Weeds had grown snugly around the structure, but a well-worn walkway from so many sets of footprints back and forth exposed the path.
Empty beer bottles and soda cans reflected supernaturally from the evening moon.
A single light shone from the second story of the barn. It flickered with a hypnotizing effect and seemed to become brighter when the wind blew through it.
Timothy eased the car up a little bit closer and cut the engine. He watched the upper open window, and strained to see anyone moving around before cutting the headlights.
What a perfect place to party.
He opened the car door and quickly stepped out. The ground had an unevenness as he stepped to the back of vehicle and popped the trunk.
His custom-made party kit.
The organized overnight bag consisted of, hard alcohol and beer, cocaine, blanket, condoms, and his secret weapon of Rohypnol. It had never failed him yet. He slipped the drugs into his pocket for the right time.
Grabbing the duffel bag, Timothy walked hurriedly to the barn entrance. The two large doors had been spray painted dozens of times, and the wood warped from age, giving it a secret clubhouse feeling.
The hinges creaked as he opened the right door. Once inside, more spray paint and useless profanity abounded, but there seven white candles were lit, sitting on a metal plate.
How cozy.
A thick layer of fresh hay littered the floor, up a ladder, and led to the loft… and to his prize.
“Hello?” He said with confidence.
A faint female voice replied, “I’m up here. C’mon up.”
“I can’t see you.” Timothy scanned the view to capture a glimpse of the girl. She sounded cute and ready for him.
Again, she repeated, “C’mon up.”
He stood for a moment. Usually, he would practically fall over his own feet to get to a party girl, but something felt different this time.
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