The Braille Killer (An Alice Bergman Novel Book 1)

by Daniel Kuhnley

  Seth says something, but it’s a distant rumble in my ears. The world tilts downward and my head finds the edge of the table before I can react.

  The next thing I know, I’m waking up on the floor and my head is throbbing. Seth crouches next to me.

  He speaks, and this time I can hear him. “Are you okay, Alice?”

  I squint, the overhead lights like tiny suns in my eyes. “I think so.”

  He puts his hand to my cheek. “You’re burning up, and you’ve got a pretty good knot right at your hair line.”

  I lick my lips. They’re dried out and as rough as Bill’s were. “I think I’m just dehydrated. Can you get me some water?”

  “Sure.” He gets up and heads into the kitchen.

  I sit up, and rock myself to try and ease the pain. The last thing I want is to be one of the ones they talk about on the news in the morning. I can hear it in my head: “Detective Alice Bergman dies from heat exhaustion and from lying to everyone she’s ever met. Gonna be a scorcher where she’s headed. She’s survived by her mother who talks to God like he actually exists.”

  Seth returns with a large glass of water and hands it to me. He settles down on the floor next to me. I gulp down the water like a landlocked fish.

  He puts his hand on my leg. “I had Deborah from CSI return to the mill and sweep it again, but she still didn’t find a note.”

  I empty the glass and set it on the floor. “If there was a note, maybe it got lost in the chaos with the medic team. Could’ve fallen out in the ambulance or in the parking lot or any number of places.”

  Seth strokes my hair with his other hand. “I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t matter at this point, but I can’t help but wonder what it might’ve said.”

  I lean my head on his shoulder like I did with the nurse at the hospital. The words from the note dash me like sea waves. Dead bodies… So much blood… Another body on your plate… Confess… “Psycho rambling most likely.” The slow, rhythmic beat of his heart calms me.

  “I hope it wasn’t a clue to the killer’s identity.” I flinch but he doesn’t seem to notice. He stretches out his legs and rotates his ankles. Both of them pop. “I just hope this attack was personal like it seems to be and not the beginnings of a killing spree.”

  I close my eyes. “Me too.”

  I hate myself right now. How will I ever come clean about all the things I’ve seen and done without incriminating myself in the process? More importantly, how will I live with myself if another body turns up before we nail this bastard? I’m sick of thinking about the case and getting nowhere.

  Seth knows me better than anyone. He often knows what I need before I do. His fingertips glide across my back and up the back of my neck, releasing tension with each stroke. My throbbing forehead fades into the past.

  I needed a distraction to get my mind off of things for just an hour or so and Seth’s delivered. I nuzzle his neck and breathe in his cologne; it’s ecstasy. I slide my hand underneath his shirt and rub his muscular chest. His skin is warm and baby soft.

  I nuzzle his armpit and breathe deep. He always smells so good no matter how much he sweats. I slide my hand down his chest, across his rock-solid abs, and inside the top of his jeans. He doesn’t even flinch.

  I push my hand farther down and look up at him. “Can I use my raincheck now?”

  The corners of his lips curl upward. “I’m sure you already have your answer.”

  I twist around and sit on his lap, my hand still in his pants. “Here, or in the bedroom?”

  He bends down and kisses the crook of my neck. “Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

  I look around. The case files are spread everywhere. Sarah’s pictures, both alive and dead stare up at me from the table. “The bedroom.”

  “The bedroom it is.”

  I’m not sure how he manages it, but he stands with me on his lap and my hand still in his pants. I lock my legs around his and he hobbles into the bedroom. He flips the light switch off.

  I reach back and flip it back on. “You know the rules. Lights on or no fun. Besides, I want to see you. I need to see you. I don’t want to think about or see anything else.”

  He walks over to the bed, twists around, and falls backward onto it. “I’m all yours, lover.”

  The poor thing doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into until I grab his shirt and rip it open. Buttons fly everywhere. He gasps, but I’m just getting started.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It’s 8am on a Friday and Seth and I are cruising down South Central Blvd., headed toward the Johnson neighborhood once again. We’ve got the drawing Yolanda provided us in hand and will question the residents one last time.

  I still can’t wrap my mind around the idea of there being two suspects. It doesn’t fit the profile or narrative I’ve built over the last decade. Then again, my hunt has been fruitless. Even so, what would be the motivation for the two of them to collude on something so heinous? Did they both know Denise?

  The real question burning a hole in my mind is why Sarah? What ties her to me? Her house is all the way across town from where I live, and the police station is smackdab in the middle of the two. I’m certain that the connection is obvious, but I can’t figure out what I’m overlooking.

  Seth turns left on 43rd St. and the scanner lights up. “10-24! 10-24! Code three! South Central Blvd. and 41st. Goodtime Liquors and Convenience Store.”

  I grab the mic. “H19 to Nest.”

  Seth flips the lights on, brakes hard, and cranks the wheel to the left. The tires screech on the asphalt as the car whips back the other direction. Seth guns it and the tires squeal, catch traction, and propel us back toward South Central Blvd.

  “This is Nest. Go ahead H19.”

  “10-77. ETA 1 minute.”

  “Affirmative H19.”

  “Roger.”

  We slide sideways halfway through the intersection before the tires grab the asphalt, and then we fly down South Central Blvd., zigzagging through morning traffic. We hit 41st and Seth swerves across two lanes, cuts between two cars with inches to spare, whips the car over the rough curb and into the Goodtime Liquors parking lot, and skids to a stop on the seen-better-days asphalt.

  This is the first shooting and robbery in progress I’ve been to in three years. My hands are shaking, my heart’s kicking in my chest, and my vision’s a bit blurred, but the adrenaline rush kicks in and sends me into overdrive. Seth and I both pull on bulletproof vests, exit the car, and draw our guns.

  Shards of glass pepper the sidewalk from the shattered front doors. Officer Todd lies halfway through the left door in a pool of blood. He isn’t moving, and I pray he’s still alive. Two people hunker down next to their cars, one praying to their God and the other with their cell phone out, trying to capture the events on video so they can share it with the world.

  Sirens wail in the distance, but there’s no time to wait.

  Bang! Bang! A bloodcurdling scream erupts from within the store.

  Seth and I stay low as we approach the front of the store. He motions for me to head around the back, so I do. Graffiti covers the side and back of the store and discarded needles are everywhere.

  A homeless man is passed out drunk by the back entrance, a bottle still in his hand, and another rummages through the dumpster at the back of the lot, his butt showing through the worn-out seat of his pants. He must be deaf to have ignored the gunshots.

  I nudge the man by the door with my foot, but he doesn’t stir. I reach down and shake him by the shoulder, and he finally shows signs of vitality. “Move on, buddy. It’s not safe here right now.”

  He reluctantly gets up, stumbles across the parking lot, and parks his butt next to one of the concrete parking barriers. The other man exits the dumpster, eyes my gun, and dives back in. I test the door and it’s locked. I imagine it’s locked all the time with the druggies, gangbangers, and homeless hanging around.

  I turn
to head back around to the front of the building, but then the door flies wide open. It catches my shoulder and knocks me sideways. By the time I reorient myself, there’s a Latino man coming out the door, his arm around Seth’s neck and a gun to Seth’s head.

  I aim my gun at the man’s blurry chest and back up several steps. “Drop your weapon or I’ll shoot!”

  The left side of the man’s face is tattooed. His lips are split, and fresh blood runs down his chin. “You drop yours, or this prick is dead!”

  Seth’s right arm hangs limp and his right cheek is bleeding. He glares at me. “Take the shot!”

  Darkness swarms at the edges of my vision. If I take the shot, I might lose Seth. If I lose Seth, I’ll never forgive myself. I breathe evenly and steady my hands. “I said drop it!”

  The guy spits blood on the ground and moves farther behind Seth. “You ain’t got the balls, puta.”

  I aim right between what I believe are his eyes and squeeze the trigger, twice. Bang! Bang! Bang! Both men cry out and drop to the ground like dead weight.

  Three bangs, but I only fired twice. I can’t allow myself to think about the third shot. I close in on the man, but not before he fires several rounds at me. Bang! Bang-bang-bang!

  My torso jerks to the left and then the right. I stagger back a step but manage to keep my feet under me. Pain blossoms in my chest and both shoulders, but I have no time think about it. I pray the shots hit my vest. I squeeze off another round—Bang!—and the kickback sends me in a tailspin. I’m certain I missed. The man pulls the trigger twice more, but his gun just clicks.

  I stagger forward like a drunk, stand over him, take aim at his leg, and pull the trigger. He screams something at me in Spanish, grabs his crotch, and curls into a fetal position. I kick his gun away and keep my eyes and gun on him.

  I can see Seth from the corner of my eye. He’s lying face-down. “You all right, Ryan?”

  Seth doesn’t respond and my stomach lurches. I’m tempted to put a bullet in this gangbanger’s head and call it a day, but I’m no killer. Then again, if Seth’s dead because of him, nothing will stop me from taking his life.

  “Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!” Two officers round the far corner and halt, guns drawn.

  I toss my gun in their direction and try to raise my arms, but I can’t fight the pain. “I’m Detective Bergman. I’ve been shot three times in the chest, so I can’t raise my arms.”

  “Bergman?” says one of them. “What the hell you doing way over here on South Central?”

  I don’t recognize his voice or either of their faces, but my vision’s so blurry at this point that I’m not sure I’d recognize anyone.

  “Right place, wrong time.” I motion toward the guy in the fetal position. “That’s the perp. I think I might’ve shot him in the balls. Don’t think he’s going anywhere.” I nod in Seth’s direction. “My partner’s been shot. Can I check on him?”

  “Yeah, sorry.” They holster their guns and approach.

  I move over to Seth and kneel next to him. “Detective Ryan? Can you hear me?”

  He doesn’t respond. Darkness swallows my vision, leaving only a pinpoint of light at the center. I locate his neck, check for a pulse and find one, but I also find lots of blood. “He’s unconscious and losing blood. We need a medic!”

  “Davis, this is Brex. Send one of those ambulances around back. We’ve got another officer down.”

  “Rolling around back now.”

  I clamp my hand over the wound on Seth’s neck. “Don’t you even think about leaving me, Ryan.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The ambulance wail echoes that of my aching heart. Seth lies still on the gurney, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and a saline IV injected into a vein in his right arm. According to the monitors, his pulse is weak but steady.

  I’m sitting in the ambulance on Seth’s left side, my hands wrapped around his left hand like vise-grips. If I hold on to him hard enough, long enough, he won’t slip away. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

  Angela, the paramedic EMT, sits on the other side of Seth, monitoring his stats. Her jet-black hair would be darkness itself, except for its radiant sheen. It’s a scientific fact that black hair doesn’t exist and those we see with it actually have extremely dark-brown hair. I’m not sold on it though. I think she’s an anomaly.

  Her eyes match her hair and offer no distinction between iris and pupil. She’s a wraith clothed in dark-caramel skin. If she’s come to collect his spirit, I will battle her to the death. The only issue I’d have would be finding something made of silver in the ambulance to pierce her heart with. It seems I’m ill-prepared once again.

  I cannot imagine life without Seth. He’s the only thing that tethers me to this godforsaken world. Sure, I have Veronica and Mother, but I hang on to my humanity only for him.

  And Sarah.

  The ambulance pulls into one of the emergency bays at the back of St. Thomas Medical Center. The back doors swing open before the ambulance even settles, and we’re greeted by a horde of medical staff. Angela updates them on Seth’s status as they pull him and the gurney out of the ambulance. They’ve already wheeled Seth inside by the time I exit the vehicle.

  I reach up and verify I’m still wearing glasses. God, I wish I wasn’t. Everything’s so dark and blurry that I struggle to put one foot in front of the other.

  “Let me help you inside.” Angela takes my arm.

  The wraith has become my angel. “Thank you, Angela.”

  “Detective Bergman correct?”

  “Yes, but you can call me Alice.”

  “Alice in Wonderland. I love that story.”

  All the Alice references from the decade of notes flood my mind and I tense.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. You probably get that a lot, don’t you?”

  I take a deep breath and lie to her. “It’s okay, Angela. I didn’t tense up because of what you said. I’m just sore from taking those bullets.”

  “Oh, right. Those vests save so many lives. Glad you were wearing yours.”

  “Me too.”

  I hadn’t realized how hot the morning had become until the double doors whoosh open and greet us with an arctic gale. I savor the moment, but it doesn’t last. We walk into the emergency room waiting area and Angela leads me over to the reception desk.

  “Thank you, Angela. I think I can manage from here.”

  She releases my arm. “You’ve got it. Try not to go down anymore rabbit holes and let me know if you find the looking glass.”

  My skin crawls on my bones. “What did you say?”

  “Sorry, they’re just more Alice in Wonderland references. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

  “The looking glass…” I can’t help but picture the mirror from storage unit 109 and my experience with Priscilla.

  “Yeah, my favorite of the stories. Wouldn’t it be cool if we could actually travel through mirrors?”

  Is that how he does it? Travels through the mirror? It sounds completely crazy, yet it makes perfect sense. Well at least in a horror movie. Then again, I still can’t wrap my mind around what happened with Sarah or the mirror. Maybe I’m trapped inside one of my nightmares again and none of it’s real.

  But I’m not.

  The thought of using the mirror is ingenious. I smile at Angela. “That would be something.”

  Set aside its absurdity and the evidence is compelling. No one would ever see him coming or going unless they were there in the room. In my heart I know it must be true, but the implications drive the contents of my stomach into my throat. How will we ever find him or stop him?

  Angela leans on the counter with her elbows, her head cupped in her hands. She smiles at the elderly man on the other side. “Eddie, you make sure you give my friend here the royal treatment. Anything she needs.”

  “Only for you, Angie.”

  Angela walks back toward the emergency entr
ance. “Be safe, Wonderland.”

  “Wonderland, eh?” Eddie chuckles. “Angie must like you. She don’t give out nicknames to just anyone.”

  I lean on the counter, more for support than anything else. “Look, Eddie. I’m sure you’re the nicest man in the world, but I’ve had a really bad week and today just caps it off. Can we skip the small talk and you just give me updates on Seth Ryan and Officer Todd?”

  “Not a problem…”

  “Detective Bergman.” I flash him my badge.

  “Thank you, Detective. Please call me Reginald. We’ll keep this simple and professional.”

  “Only Eddie for her. Got it. What are their statuses, Reginald?”

  “You can call me Eddie if you’d like to, but my name is Reginald.”

  If I were a cat, I would’ve run out of lives long ago because of my obsessive curiosity. “Why does she call you Eddie then?”

  Eddie scratches his freshly-shaven chin. “Something to do with an iron maiden. To be truthful, I don’t know what it is she carries on about most of the time.”

  In spite of everything I’m wrestling with both mentally and physically, I can’t help but snort a little. “I guess I can see the similarities, Eddie.”

  Eddie bangs on the keyboard with surprisingly spry fingers. “Okay, I see that Officer Todd is in surgery. No idea when he’ll come out of that. Hmm… looks like Seth Ryan hasn’t been admitted yet.”

  “Not admitted?” I can’t breathe. The thought of Seth dead devastates me, and I cling to the counter. “Why?”

  “Doesn’t say. Sometimes they won’t check people in if there are no beds available.” Eddie looks around. “How about I buzz you into the ER and you can go see for yourself?”

  I look around too, but my vision’s shot. “I would be ever grateful.”

  Eddie stands and pats my shoulder. “Don’t mention it.”

  I nod.

  “Seriously, please don’t.” He moves around the desk.

  “Lips are sealed, and the key’s been tossed in the river. Promise.”