BURN IN BELL

by Jeremy Waldron

  All night he couldn’t sleep. First it was adrenaline keeping him awake. The high that came after the kill. Now, a buzz of energy like that of a swarming hive played constantly in his ears. It was fear that had ensnared him with anxiety, keeping him a prisoner inside his own room. The fear of getting caught.

  The Shadow Stalker had made a mistake, and he knew it. But it was the persistent nagging being whispered into his ear that was grating on his nerves now.

  His chest heaved as he listened to the words telling him he wasn’t good enough to be recognized as the best. Soon, he couldn’t take it anymore. Clenching his meaty fists, he spat into the dark corner of the room, “I am the best.”

  There was no response, nor was he looking for one. He kept pacing.

  Silence draped over him like a heavy blanket of doubt, slowly draining him of his self- worth. He walked the same path as before, asking if it was figure eights he was making, or the symbol of infinity. He preferred the infinity analogy—infinity ensured a lasting legacy—and he kept tramping down the same trail, allowing his thoughts to churn.

  Pushing his hands through his hair, he flexed his muscles and shook his head back and forth as his agitation grew. The voices grew louder as the minutes passed and the attacks on his shortcomings sharpened and became more personal.

  “I’m not making it too easy on him,” he muttered in a tone above a whisper, not wanting his voice to be heard through the walls. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, old lady.”

  The Shadow Stalker knew he might have moved too quickly in his grand scheme to draw Inspector King in. It wasn’t the victim he chose, or the location that made him question his strategy. It was the fact that he was nearly spotted by those boys surprising him with their lights as he hovered over the frail and dying Avery Morgan, working her into a piece of art. Now he worried that, because of them, he might have left his victim alive.

  He raced around his track, his feet scuffing over the carpet faster and faster until they burned with heat. The whispers swirled around him like a stiff winter’s breeze that only the Shadow Stalker could hear. The pressure inside his head increased as the voice behind him grew louder.

  His nostrils flared and he felt trapped, like his heart was about to burst. Suddenly, he snapped. “I know I almost got caught!”

  With balled fists, he breathed the fire out of his chest.

  As soon as he admitted his failure, he knew he’d lost. It was difficult to admit, but sometimes the truth hurt. Willing to do anything to win, it had felt like forever since he lost at anything.

  He turned his back, covered his ears, and shook his head violently. No matter what he did to try to escape the constant banter of failure, he couldn’t stop himself from hearing her disappointment.

  “You might have won this one, Inspector, but not again.”

  Then it all stopped and he caught his reflection in the mirror.

  His grey eyes grew with surprise as he inched his way closer. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Bringing his hand to his neck, he tipped his chin back and swiveled his head from left to right, inspecting the scratch he hadn’t noticed until now.

  “No. This can’t be,” he said to himself. “You’re better than this.”

  His heart pounded in his ears as he went over each of his actions since running from the park. He’d followed the bike path exiting the park, stuck to the dark edges of the sidewalks, slowly making his way home without being spotted. As much as he wanted to believe a tree branch caught his neck somewhere along the way, he knew that it was Avery who’d done this to him. Once home he’d stripped his clothes to get rid of any potential evidence to link him to the crime, but a scratch was trouble.

  You’re a loser. You will get caught…He’s beating you.

  With nerves on high, the Shadow Stalker caught sight of the news in the mirror. He reached for the TV remote and unmuted the volume. Turning on a heel, he watched as the news anchor told the story of his crime. He’d been waiting for this moment, hoping for glory. Turning up the volume, he moved closer to the TV.

  The voice behind him was back, telling him to turn it down.

  “Shut up.” He spat over his right shoulder. “It’s not too loud.” He pointed the clicker at the TV and increased the volume.

  “Last night, members of the Denver Police Department responded to a distress call inside Commons Park. There, first responders found a woman in her twenties, badly injured but alive—”

  The Shadow Stalker’s eyes widened. His worst fears were now a reality. The voice was there once again, laughing behind him for being so stupid.

  “Quiet.” He snapped his fingers and pointed to the armchair in the corner. “This is important.” He inched closer to the TV.

  “It’s unclear at this time as details are still emerging, but no suspects in the case are being named. The park will remain closed until the investigation is complete. Now, if you’re planning to run in tomorrow’s marathon, this does affect the original course but we’re being told that everything will go on as planned.”

  The Shadow Stalker stood there quietly, staring at the TV, when suddenly he heard someone at his door.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Allison was speaking in a hushed tone that made it difficult to hear. I asked, “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure, Sam.”

  She was clearer this time, probably having closed herself away in a private room to make sure there wasn’t any mistaking what she wanted me to hear.

  “He was at the park where the news is saying a woman was attacked.” Allison’s words were clipped, shooting off her tongue in rapid bursts of fire. “Do you know anything about this?”

  With my elbow planted on Erin’s desk, I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes. I thought about Marty Ray and Allison’s determination to help him readjust to life after incarceration. It was a noble effort—and a difficult one at that—but I wasn’t as convinced as she was when thinking he might have been the one to have attacked Avery.

  “There were a lot of people at the park last night,” I said, masking my skepticism as best I could.

  “Then how do you explain the blood on his shirt?”

  I lifted my head and glanced over my shoulder to find Erin staring. I clicked over to speakerphone and announced Erin’s arrival.

  “This is too big of a coincidence for me to ignore,” Allison said to us. “I’m worried that he might have done something. You know what he just got out of prison for?”

  We did, though none of us wanted to say it out loud as if somehow hearing it would confirm Marty’s guilt. Besides, there was other evidence I knew about that I couldn’t discuss with Allison that had me doubting Marty had anything to do with this at all. Instead, I asked where Marty was now.

  “He’s in my guestroom talking to himself.”

  “What’s he saying?” Erin asked.

  “I don’t know. Mumbling about something. Look, I was listening through the door and didn’t stay long enough to have him find me eavesdropping. It’s important I don’t lose his trust.”

  “It sounds like you already have,” I said, instantly regretting my brutal assessment.

  Allison mostly ignored my comment when she said, “If he’s responsible for what happened, then yes, you’re right, I have. Why do you think I called you? Don’t you know something that can help ease my worries?”

  Erin and I shared a look. She shook her head no and I knew what she was thinking. We couldn’t divulge anything until King gave me the go-ahead, even if the information was already being leaked to the press.

  “We’re still working the story,” I said. “There are some things that can’t be shared.”

  “So it’s possible?” Allison sounded pessimistic.

  I said, “Don’t give up on him just yet.”

  “How can I not when you’re making me believe that I’m right?”

  I asked again about last night, this time asking Allison to break down the last time she saw Mart
y and what his behavior was like.

  “We were leaving the office,” Allison gave a time and I jotted it down, “when I was approached by a client. Marty and I were on our way to dinner so, not knowing how long my visit would take, I gave him a twenty so he could buy himself some food. That’s when we both promised to see each other back at the house.”

  Erin asked, “And he didn’t say who he might have been meeting up with at the park?”

  “If he did, I didn’t hear him.”

  “What time did he get in?” I asked.

  “That’s just it. I don’t know. I fell asleep before he got home and then, this morning, I find his clothes in the hamper with blood on them. I’m freaking out right now and think that maybe I should call his parole officer.”

  I thought about what I heard Alvarez tell King last night. “You said you gave Marty a twenty-dollar bill. Can you tell me more about that?”

  Allison paused for a moment. “Yes. A regular old Andrew Jackson. Why? What does that matter? I promised him dinner and knew he didn’t have any money to buy something himself.”

  Erin was holding my eyes inside her curious gaze as I thought about the message left for King on the twenty-dollar bill last night. Could it be our killer’s signature? Maybe. Another message had been scribbled on a twenty at Peggy Hill’s house. But I didn’t have a way to trace the bill back to Marty. Even if I did, it would only take me back to its original owner, Allison. We had nothing.

  “Samantha, tell me. What should I do?” Allison’s thin voice floated through the phone line like helium. “Am I now an accomplice in a crime I had nothing to do with?”

  “Relax,” Erin said. “You did the right thing by calling us first.”

  “Who was this woman anyway? And why do I get the feeling you know more than what you’re saying?”

  I stood and knew I needed to talk with King in person. “If Marty leaves, message me.”

  “Sam, who was this woman?” Allison raised her voice and I heard her desperation coming through the line. “Marty is innocent, right? He couldn’t have done what I’m thinking he did, could he?”

  I didn’t have the strength to tell my friend her cousin’s criminal record suggested he did have it in him to be the monster I knew we were looking for. Instead, I said, “Just call me if he leaves the house.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  As soon as Detective Alex King was within sight of the police station parking lot, he knew they were in trouble. He felt Alvarez tense in the seat next to him as he spun the steering wheel to the right and headed straight for the small crowd of people.

  The sadness in his heart had since hardened and turned into anger. His Glock was ready to fire, his muscles pumping for a fight. As he prepared to leave the house, he had made a personal pact to both Avery and Peggy, promising to bring their assailants to justice—God willing, by his own hands. Not only had a cop been murdered, but they were his friends first, and that was something that couldn’t be replaced.

  “Christ,” Alvarez muttered into his hand as they approached the half-dozen reporters. “Did I miss something? I thought we were keeping this under wraps.”

  King eased his foot onto the brake pedal and nudged the nose of his vehicle past several TV reporters already shouting into their window. “There must have been a leak.”

  Alvarez turned away from the cameras and gave King a stern look. “Just what we fucking need.”

  King tried his best to avoid his face being captured inside the frame of a long lens, but a reporter’s thirst to be the first to reveal new details was impossible to avoid. They were like mosquitoes swarming, nipping and biting until it drove a man mad.

  Alvarez was still giving King a look, and King knew what his partner was thinking—Samantha was the one who’d dropped the bomb. “Samantha has the exclusive once I’ve been given the green light, but this wasn’t her.”

  Alvarez raised his skeptical brows and rolled his gaze out the window.

  Once King parked, they both stepped out and met the hungry members of the media with stoic faces that revealed nothing. Their lips were sealed, their ears open to learn what secrets the media already knew. The questions started flying like arrows across the field and the two detectives dodged each and every one of them like seasoned warriors.

  “Why is the police department not revealing the name of last night’s victim?” A reporter shoved a microphone into King’s face. “What have you got to hide?”

  The detectives kept walking. King resisted the urge to smile. This wasn’t about the murder of a cop, but rather the lack of information being shared with the press.

  “Hospital have no records of a woman coming in. Is it safe to assume the victim died?”

  “You’ll get your questions answered at the press conference.” Alvarez stopped and tugged on his sports coat, enjoying his minute of fame. “Until then, enjoy the sunshine.” He smiled and joined King at the door before stepping into the station together.

  The air was cool but frantic inside and it was clear Avery’s death had the entire station hungry for revenge. As soon as the other officers saw King, everything went quiet. King ignored the stares and brushed past the nods as he felt his colleagues circle behind him like sharks smelling blood in the water.

  Suddenly, an officer across the room shouted, “We’ll get the bastard who did this. Avery was a damn good cop even if she was only a rookie.”

  King stopped, turned, and stared into the officer’s eyes, feeling a sense of unity he’d only experienced a few times throughout his career.

  “Blue lives matter,” someone else shouted and the entire department erupted into a roar that shook the floor.

  King’s chest buzzed with a surge of adrenaline as he made his way to Lieutenant Kent Baker’s office. Baker’s door was open and King found him hunched behind his computer reviewing surveillance tape. King double tapped the door with his knuckles and LT waved for them to come inside.

  “Close the door,” Baker said.

  Alvarez shut the door and the outside noise was immediately muffled as the men took seats across from their lieutenant.

  LT leaned back in his chair and met King’s gaze. “We have the entire department looking for Orville Boyd.”

  King’s jaw clenched as he felt his muscles tense. Alvarez glanced at him sideways and King knew he was thinking about the theory he had assembled overnight.

  “We’ve had eyes on his house since last night and will continue that way until we catch this bastard.” LT paused before standing. He turned to the window and continued, “The entire department has their fingers on their triggers, ready to send Avery’s killer straight to hell.” He looked over his shoulder. “Chief Watts will be meeting with the press,” he glanced at his silver wrist watch, “in one hour. After that, the city will learn a cop has been killed.”

  “They’re outside now,” Alvarez said, “close to guessing the truth of what happened last night.”

  “They’ll hear it all soon enough.” LT lowered himself back into his desk chair, opened a drawer, and retrieved an evidence bag he slid across his desk for King to take. “Forensics wasn’t able to pull any prints off the note you gave them.”

  King tipped forward in his chair and took the bag into his possession. “I didn’t think they would.” King thanked LT for checking anyway, pocketing the burn in hell, pig note found on Erin’s front door before this nightmare started.

  “Where are we at?” Alvarez asked, sounding frustrated. “Has anyone checked the recycling plant where Mike Kern said Boyd was now working?”

  LT nodded. “According to records, Boyd hasn’t held a job for nearly eighteen months now.”

  “Christ, so we’re just chasing a ghost.”

  “Unfortunately, CSI hasn’t been able to lift any prints—let alone anything beneficial—at either crime scene.” LT locked his eyes on King. “Alex, I can put added security detail on your house until this is finished.”

  “Waste of resources,” King said. “Bes
ides, whoever is sending me a message isn’t interested in killing me. If they were, I’d already be dead.”

  LT leaned back and glanced to Alvarez. “As you know, the park is still closed off and I’ve been sealed inside here watching tape. We have the boy, Jamaal, who called it in—and that led us to a couple more names who Jamaal says he was playing basketball with nearby right before he discovered the body.”

  “What do we know about these other boys?” Alvarez asked.

  “Just that they stayed playing ball even after the lights went off.” LT flicked his gaze over to King. “We’re working on bringing them in for questioning now.”

  “So we have nothing.” King rubbed at his forehead.

  “Not exactly.” LT shifted his weight. “Jamaal mentioned a man they didn’t know approach them on the courts about the time we believe Avery was attacked.”

  “Was it Boyd?”

  “Unfortunately, there weren’t any cameras where she was found but we did pick up this image.”

  LT clicked his mouse, zoomed in on a blurry image, and turned the computer screen toward the detectives.

  “So who is this guy?”

  “John Doe.”

  King asked, “Is that as clear as you can get it?”

  LT nodded and locked his gaze on King. “There’s another problem.” King’s expression pinched. “Mason Bell was in the park last night.”

  “So?” King shrugged. “And probably a dozen others, too. You can’t possibly think he’s a suspect?”

  “We’re not ruling anything out, but watch this and tell me what you think.”

  King watched LT’s hand fall to the computer mouse. Time slowed and he noticed he stopped breathing as he waited for the video to play. A couple of clicks and LT turned the monitor to face King. The monitor was paused on surveillance video of the park. King was afraid of what he was about to see but told LT to play it anyway.

  “Here, you can see our John Doe.” Lieutenant Baker pointed to the screen with the tip of his pen.