Finally, she rushed toward the bathroom and ripped down the shower curtain.
Nothing said body dumping like a missing shower curtain, she mused as she watched Jesse’s chest rise and fall.
For her tale to work, he had to live to tell it.
The train pulled up to the platform, and swarmed by the other passengers, she melted into their midst, shedding what it meant to be Charlie Palmer. It was time to stroll into her new life without any baggage.
50
October 3, 2003
Walking out of the hospital after hours of going over Jesse’s statement, Lazarus headed straight to the police station. This case had broken him. With Charlie gone, and now with a source, he needed out.
He replayed their last night together, the faraway look in her eyes when she glanced at him and her touch that seemed to linger. She’d done the same thing he’d done—knowingly left.
Marching in through the precinct doors, he ignored the stares of the other officers in their uniform blues. He might not have gotten shot or stabbed, but his heart had been maimed. Walking directly to his captain’s office, he saw the athletic captain already in talks with his partner, Hobbes.
“Thanks for meeting me here,” Lazarus said. “It’s time for me to get out of my assignment.”
“Considering you just blew your cover, I think so too,” Hobbes huffed.
“Don’t. I gave you what we needed,” he began. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to wash Shane Sterns away for a while.”
“Yes, sir,” Hobbes interjected. “Due to Lazarus’s great work, we have a way into to the Bruderschaft.”
“Sir, Jesse Callahan has agreed to testify against the gang in exchange for protection.”
“So, when you spoke with him, you let him know who you were?” Captain Vernard asked. Captain Vernard sat back in his double-stuffed office chair with his pen poised to scribble down notes of the officer debriefing.
“Yes, sir. At the time, it seemed appropriate.”
“You did an excellent job, Lazarus, and besides a few snags, we should be able to proceed as we had hoped. And the hierarchy? Did you ever meet Lang?”
“I am unsure sir, because the one time that I believe I did make his acquaintance, he only allowed me to call him sir and never provided me with a name. But the part of organization under Blackwell, I am aware of—at least a certain part of his operation.”
“You believe them to be organized like La Costa Nostra.”
“Yes, sir. There seems to be more of a fixed hierarchy. There is someone over Blackwell, whom I can only assume is Lang.”
“And you say they aren’t just moving heroin.”
“No sir, they are acting as body brokers, using human cadavers to engage in the selling of human body parts, as well as engaging in human trafficking and murder.”
“And you saw this?”
“Yes sir.”
“When we raided the establishment,” Hobbes began, “several women were found to not have any citizenship papers. Due to the nature of things, we’ve asked immigration to take a closer look. Although a federal issue, with the legality of their stay being in question, they’re quite reluctant to tell us anything about how they ended up at the Passionate Lai.”
Lazarus watched Captain Vernard nod his head and scribble something down on a yellow legal pad. “We can deal with the topic of immigration later.” He cleared his throat and placed his pen back on his desk. “I’m more interested in my fallen officer. I understand from your partner, Lazarus, that you were engaged in an altercation, which resulted in your discharging your gun and the unfortunate killing of Officer Marie Johnson.”
Lazarus paused and cleared his throat, swallowing the forming lump. “Yes, but I am unsure as to how they knew about Marie. Blackwell often referred to a police snitch involved in his organization.”
Vernard frowned at that news. “If we indeed have a mole, then that is going to affect our entire organization.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Until further notice, I need you to see a mental health specialist until you truly return to duty.”
“Yes, sir.” With that, Lazarus turned to leave. “Before I return, sir, I’m going to take time off to take care of some things that require my attention.”
“You’ve earned every day of it. And Detective Lazarus, welcome back.”
Pulling up before the large brick home, Lazarus saw the small boy tossing a football with his friends. The sounds of giggles wafted in his direction. Comparing the features of the boy to that in the picture from the adoption records, he knew it to be true.
His son was less than one hundred feet away, but still too far.
With all of the red tape and paperwork he’d have to work through to get him back, for Charlie to even get him back, he couldn’t say it would be worth it. He seemed happy.
His face filled with childhood innocence and love.
As long as Blackwell was out there, everyone connected to him would be a target, and he couldn’t take that innocence away. Not now anyway.
Instead, he’d have to continue after Blackwell and his gang until he made him fall to his knees, until he’d lost everything—just like Lazarus had. The only thing he now had was his career—and a badge couldn’t keep a man warm at night.
His phone beeped, signaling a new message. The screen simply read, “Forever.”
51
October 14, 2003
Charlotte allowed the cool salty air of the Mediterranean Sea to caress her sun-kissed face. All around her, she heard the beautiful words in Castillo Spanish and Moroccan being spoken, mixed with a little bit of English, and then a voice that she recognized.
“Is this seat taken?” She turned and to her right, she found Shane. He leaned against the boat’s banister.
“Great day for a trip.”
“Yeah, something like that,” he muttered. She couldn’t see his eyes, but his stance was too controlled, and he was too distant for their reunion to be a joyous one.
“How’d you find me?”
He remained silent.
Their marriage had never been a true one, vows spoken under his fake identity, but as the boat swayed back and forth, she relished having that feeling one more time—of him being beside her—no games, no questions, just them.
“I have friends in high places,”he finally said. He flashed his cellphone.
She’d thought she’d covered her tracks well enough to go undetected, at least a little longer, but maybe sending a message from a cellphone with a Spanish telephone number hadn’t been her wisest of choices.
“Have you come to take me back?” she asked.
“No, I came to tell you that you’re free from the past you needed to leave behind, and me, if you so wish.”
“I know you didn’t come all the way over here for that.”
“I also wanted to let you know that James appears to be well taken care of.”
“He’s living with my mother. I’m happy you, too, got to see him. That’s the best I can give him now, a chance to have a good life. It might not be what I want, but it’s the best for him.” She wiped away an unshed tear and smiled. She didn't want to think about the repercussions: life came with consequences she could never tame or control.
Things can change, Charlie. I want to be the family we really are. Words he wished to say remained unsaid between them. He couldn't be a family man when Blackwell would make sure he paid in spades for all the undercover work. His cover now blown, nothing would make it possible for him to work again and gather the needed info. The best thing is that he still had Thornton Gage, the attorney who he might be able to get to turn, and of course Jesse, who they were already priming for information.
“I knew when I met you, Shane, that you were a good man.” She reached out and wrapped her arms around him. "But my goal from the moment I saw your face again was to get out of there, to get away from that life, even if it meant my walking away from you this time. You gave
me what I needed: an opportunity to disappear."
For her, he’d thrown out years of work, but in the end, her doing so had saved him from the beginning of a downward spiral. It's easy to get caught up playing pretend, until the game gets real.
She smiled.“Everything I told you is true; I hope you understand.”
“You put me in so much danger,” he said. For a moment, his words were laced with ire. “Everything that I risked for you . . .”He stared at her. She'd gone through so much to escape them, him. Anger should have throttled him, but looking at her, he couldn't blame her for her choice. It was her choice.
“I risked even more; believe me.”
He sighed in resignation.
“Where are you headed now?” Lazarus asked.
“Morocco. Life will be good for me. I've cleaned myself up, made some wonderful contacts. Who knows, maybe I’ll even teach English. You feel like joining me? I hear that even long-distance relationships can last. We can backpack through Europe, see the Egyptian pyramids, go swimming in the Dead Sea, walk on the Great Wall of China, eat Sushi in Japan. The world could be our oyster.”
They were words spoken as if this reality didn't exist, just wishful thinking.
“If you run into any trouble . . .” It was the polite thing to say.
“I’m capable of saving myself and I’m worth it.”
“I know you are Charlotte.”
“I like it when you say my name, and I knew you’d find me when you received my message. I needed you to know I’m safe and okay.” She reached out and took his hand and held it. For that moment, as their hands met, they were a “we”—a couple united by desire, patience, and understanding.
Until the Syndicate is brought down, there would be no happy ever after for them. He'd love to offer her a permanent vacation away from the hassles of the life she'd chosen and created, but that couldn't be. He'd worked years on gathering information to bring the Syndicate down, and with Jesse now able to testify, the police had one building block to bring it crumbling down. He'd gotten the information the police required to proceed to the next stage.
“Promise me forever.” A single tear slid down her seemingly angelic face.
Even now, it must have been easier for her to live the lie than to face the truth. Fiction seemed to taste better than reality for her, something he couldn't indulge in.
Digging into his pocket, he retrieved a thin golden band and placed it on her left ring finger. “I’ll always have you right here,” he said touching the center of his chest.
“Me too, Peter Lazarus, me too.”
Together, holding on to their pasts and future, they stared out at the sunset and let the final leg of the boat’s journey heal their wounds. Yet, as the waves rocked the boat he knew peace would be fleeting. Soon, the Syndicate would come calling for Blackwell still needed to be brought to justice, and pay for his crimes against all of those women he'd ordered killed; the body harvesting he and his goons orchestrated; the drugs he'd ordered transported along the East Coast; and, even more, the lives he ruined.
Richmond might have been almost a million miles away. But justice, his justice was just around the corner.
Epilogue
Metro News
Police found drugs, drug paraphernalia and what is being described as a ghastly business of body harvesting, after human remains were located in a warehouse in Elko Tract. One local man, Jesse Callahan, has been taken into police custody and is awaiting trial.
“A search warrant was issued for the Mechanicsville business,” confirmed Detective Peter Lazarus, “and the investigation into these horrific crimes continue.”
Over the course of the past few months, The Passionate Lai, the local strip club, has been under investigation after dancers were found to be stimulating sexual acts, in violation of the Code of Virginia. This was observed when the establishment was visited by undercover law enforcement. Initial investigation resulted in a dry bar and a hefty fine issued by the Adult Beverage Control.
The club is owned by Lionel Blackwell. Calls for comments to Mr. Blackwell have not been answered, but his attorney, Thornton Gage stated that “All charges against the establishment and my client will be dismissed as Mr. Blackwell is an upstanding citizen of the community. These charges and any investigation against him are just a witch hunt.”
Jesse Callahan is scheduled to appear in the general district court for his preliminary hearing on the 21st.
Otto crumpled the newspaper into a ball and tossed it into the corner. “Shit, shit, shit!”
It wouldn’t be long before Blackwell responded with an ass-kicking or a machete. He gulped.
Any witnesses to his dealings and what he’d done couldn’t survive, and that was the only nail left for Otto to hammer into place. No witnesses, no crime.
He didn’t think about himself as being a serial killer, but just doing a job. His job just happened to deal with human extinguishing for profit.
Otto cast a gaze over on Rose’s sleeping figure. He only had a couple of hours to work. It pained him knowing what he needed to do, but staring down lovingly at her unconscious figure wasn’t going to stop him from doing what must be done.
Death had many servants, and it was something everyone did, die—even if they didn’t count on it. Death was inevitable.
He pushed the gurney to the back of the makeshift basement in Jesse’s house. Plastic covering everything, and with Jesse in lockup, it was a perfect place, with its freezer and rolls of Saran wrap. He’d brought his own tools for the job, now all rolled out and ready to work.
Turning the radio on to the Classical station, he then flipped through the order sheet. Looked like someone in Ohio needed a new lung; one in California, a liver, and two were in need of knee replacements.
The torso, he’d send to the medical lab for the practicing of their new surgical equipment. It was the new way of grave robbing, but he made sure that the victim was useable, too. All parts of Rose had a designation, all with dry ice and order sheets.
He gripped the black-tipped marker between his teeth and yanked the top off, spitting it to the side. Leaning over Rose’s naked body, he slowly began to make dashes as to where he needed to incise.
Afterward, he looked down at his handiwork. Rose wouldn’t feel a thing, and this was her chance to be useful. She hadn’t been for some time, anyway.
The music boomed, the orchestras crescendo swept through the room, and Otto grabbed for the syringe to give Rose the last injection, but noticed it missing from the tablet.
Before Otto could react, the syringe he’d been looking for was plunged into his neck. He swung around on unsteady feet and came face-to-face with a masked male, who was dressed in a mechanic’s uniform.
Otto recognized the glint in the man’s eyes: murder. It had reflected back at him long enough, each time he looked into a mirror—dead, cold eyes.
Before he could take one final deep breath, a machete impaled him.
And as darkness came, he could have sworn the last thing he heard besides the radio audience’s applause, was the killer whispering, “Thou Shall Not.”
The End
* * *
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Tina Glasneck is a USA Today bestselling author of murder, mayhem, and mystery. When she is not killing people in mystery novels, she also enjoys finding fantastical ways to wreck havoc. As a former criminal paralegal, she knows the devil is all in the details.
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