The Braille Killer (An Alice Bergman Novel Book 1)

by Daniel Kuhnley

  Lieut. Frost breaks the silence. “Is there anything you’d like to tell us before we proceed, Detective Bergman? Perhaps something you’ve remembered while sitting here?”

  My breathing shallows and my pulse rises. What could they have possibly found? “Can’t think of anything.”

  Seth sighs. I’d recognize it from across an airport. “I trusted you, Alice.”

  I look his direction, my gaze steel but my heart breaking. “That’s past-tense. What’ve I done?”

  “There’s no point in playing these games. We found the storage unit.”

  Only the fear felt through Sarah’s and Cara’s memories rivals this moment. I shake so violently that the chair rattles. I try to take a breath, but the air has escaped the room and I’m left gasping.

  “Explain yourself, Alice.” There’s more hurt in Seth’s voice than anger. “Why have you kept all this from me? From us?”

  “I… I…” Words form in my head, but their very existence is foreign to me. I can’t remember how to put them together into something logical. Every image and thought for the last decade bombard me. Shame and fear well up inside me like lava in a caldera and threaten to explode from my pores. I’m sixteen again and bound with duct tape.

  A hand touches my shoulder and I jerk away so hard that I slam my other shoulder into something solid. I cry out and whimper, “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you want.” Tears streak my face and run down my neck.

  He shakes me violently. “Alice, it’s me.”

  I cry harder. “I don’t understand. What do you want from me?”

  The smack of his hand on my cheek jars me. “Alice, dammit! It’s Seth.”

  I gasp for air, stunned for a moment and lost as to what’s happening. My left cheek stings and someone’s arms are wrapped around me. My face and neck are drenched. I lick my lips and taste salt. Tears. I’m covered in tears. I believe they’re mine.

  Seth’s cologne fills my nostrils. “Seth? What’s happening?”

  He releases me. “Are you okay?”

  I self-diagnose for a few moments. My heart is pounding, and I’m riddled with fatigue, but everything else seems to be good. “Yeah… I think so. What happened?”

  “You were about to explain all the letters and items we found in your storage unit and then you reverted back to another place or something. You freaked me out.”

  I sit back in the chair and wipe my face on my shoulders. My left shoulder aches, so I rub it. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. Give me a minute to collect myself.”

  I close my eyes and slow my breathing. The world spins in my head like a cyclone. The need to catch this killer overwhelms me and I can’t help but obsess over it. It’s all I’ve known for so long. Opening up to Veronica helped.

  Maybe it will bring my vision back.

  I’ve lived, breathed, and slept within his twisted mind and I need to find a way out before it’s too late. Let go. I must tell them what I know so we can reach the end of this nightmare. I need to wake up and live again.

  I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “Before we move forward, I need a guarantee from you, Lieutenant.”

  “You want a guarantee?” Lieut. Frost scoffs. “You’re in no position to demand anything of me or this department.”

  I nod. “I understand, but I don’t think what I want is unreasonable.”

  “I think we should let her speak, Lieutenant. You can always deny her request.” I’m taken aback that Detective Roland would speak up for me.

  Lieut. Frost grumbles. “So be it. Give us your demands and make it quick.”

  I rest my arms on the table and lean forward. “I don’t want to lose my job, sir. Guarantee my position. You know how valuable I’ve been over the last two years. That’s all I want.”

  “You’ve got a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening right now. You’ll be lucky if we don’t press charges for obstruction of justice. Not only have you hindered this investigation, but you’ve lied about it as well. You’ve also lost your vision and seem to be suffering from some sort of psychotic episodes. There’s no way I could keep you on the force right now even if I thought you deserved it.”

  I clasp my hands together. “I will undergo any sort of therapy deemed necessary to keep my job, and I honestly believe my vision loss is due to PTSD from Officer Todd’s death, Detective Ryan’s injury, and my shooting of the suspect. I will get through this.” If there’s a god out there, make this true.

  “We will discuss this at a later date if necessary, but from this moment forward you will comply with our demands and tell us everything you know.”

  “I’ll live with that.” My legs are killing me from sitting in the chair for so long, so I stand. “Everything started ten years ago with Denise’s death. I was at a doctor’s appointment that day and was upset. I hurried out of the office and collided with Denise in the hallway. She fell over the banister and I fell backward, cracking my head on the floor. When I regained consciousness, I could see for the first time in my life.”

  “And that was when?” asks Detective Roland.

  “I assume you brought everything from my storage unit in here or at least what was up on my corkboard.”

  “Yes,” says Seth. “We kept everything on the board as you had it.”

  “Good. See the picture of Denise splayed on the floor in the top-left corner of the board? That was July seventeenth of two thousand eight. Exactly ten years before Sarah Johnson’s death.”

  “We see the items and dates on the board, but what’s the correlation between you and the killer?” asks Lieut. Frost.

  “Every year since Denise’s death he’s sent me a letter and some sort of item that relates to her. He’s got it in his head that Denise’s death wasn’t an accident. He thinks I pushed her over that banister.”

  “And why didn’t you come forward with all of this?” asks Seth.

  “I figured the letters and items were his way of mourning her loss. His letters always urged me to find him and confess but he never told me who he was. I thought I could handle catching him myself.”

  “And he never once spoke of killing you or anyone else?” asks Detective Roland.

  “Only if I told anyone about him and the letters. He never made any direct threats until the letter I received last year.”

  Papers ruffle and then one slides into my hand.

  “Can you read that to us?” asks Seth. “The three of us don’t know braille.”

  I sit down and smooth out the folds in the card stock paper. I don’t need to feel it to remember the words, but I glide my finger across the raised bumps anyway. Goosebumps skitter down my nape and arms.

  I clear my throat and read it aloud: “With sight reborn a friend is lost, but you didn’t mourn so what’s the cost? An eye for an eye or something more? Should the innocent die for a sinful whore? Follow the path and meet my demands. Or suffer my wrath; it’s all in your hands. It’s your curtain call. I’ve told you what to do. Will you take the fall? The ending’s up to you.”

  “Do you know why he calls you a whore?” asks Lieut. Frost.

  My stomach gurgles, and bile rises in my throat. I hold my breath and wait for the feeling to pass. “The picture with the letter from the previous year.” A tear rolls down my cheek.

  “This picture is of you and Denise?” asks Detective Roland.

  “Yes. Denise and the Braille Killer kidnapped me, beat me, and raped me a few months before Denise died.”

  “My God,” exclaims Seth. “Are your hands tied behind your back?”

  “Yes… they tortured and abused me for several hours.” I let out a sob. “I think the only reason they let me go was because I was blind and couldn’t identify them.”

  “Why would you keep this from me, Alice? I don’t understand.” Seth’s voice quavers. “I could’ve been there for you and helped you through this if I’d known.”

  “I couldn’t ask that
of you and I didn’t want you to think I was broken.” I sniff and wipe my eyes. “You can’t imagine the shame I feel every time I think about what they did to me. It was bad enough reliving it in my mind, but I never had to see it until he sent me that picture. That devastated me for months.”

  “I’m sorry you had to endure something like that, Detective Bergman,” says Detective Roland. “I have a sixteen-year-old daughter and can’t imagine her going through something like that.”

  “Pray she never does.” I lean back in the chair and look toward the ceiling. “Part of me died that day and I’ve never been the same since. He’s the entire reason I studied criminology and joined the force. I thought I’d be able to hunt him down if I had the right resources, but he’s proven quite elusive.”

  “From your notes about the killer I see that you mention something about storage unit 109,” says Seth. “I gather this is a unit from the same storage facility?”

  “Yes, but that turned out to be a wild goose chase. The unit was cleaned out and the name it was rented under wasn’t the man who rented it.”

  “What else can you tell us about these letters and items?” Lieut. Frost’s voice is edged with compassion. I didn’t think him capable.

  I sit back up. “I’ve given you everything I know, sir. Maybe forensics can shed some light on the rest of it. My resources were quite limited.”

  “I still can’t believe all this. How could you stand to keep it all locked inside?” Seth sounds upset, and I don’t blame him.

  “I didn’t want anyone else to suffer with me or feel sorry for me. I’m a detective, and a damned good one, and I thought I could solve this on my own.”

  “I don’t know how you can be so blind to what’s right in front of you. I’ve been right here for two damn years.” Seth’s chair bangs against the table. The door opens and then slams shut.

  “Denise Eleanor Chavez,” says Detective Roland. “Some of the beauties are the most psycho.”

  Eleanor… My mind races back to the old man in the house across the street from Sarah Johnson’s house. “My God… it was him!”

  “Who was him?” asks Lieut. Frost.

  “The morning of Sarah Johnson’s murder I stormed into a house across the street where I thought I saw someone watching from the window. There was an old man in a wheel chair.” I return to the scene in my mind, certain his face would match that of the man from storage unit 109, but shadows cover him. I wish my photographic mind came with enhancement tools.

  “When I questioned him about anyone else being in the house, he said not for ten years since his Eleanor passed.” I smack myself on the forehead. “We had him and didn’t even know it.”

  The door opens again and closes. “Sorry, had a call.”

  “Seth, we had him. I’m positive he was the old man in the wheelchair.”

  Seth takes the chair next to mine. “Even if that was him it makes no difference now. When we went back later that day he was gone.”

  “I know, but that confirms that he likes to watch us investigate. That means he was probably at the second scene as well.”

  “Maybe, but that means he’d have to kill again before we could try and catch him. I’m not willing to wait for that to happen.”

  I smack my hands on the table. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Enough,” says Lieut. Frost. “I think we’ve heard enough. Ryan and Roland make sure this stuff gets down to CSI immediately. Roland, take a look at everything and see if you can find a pattern or clues on how to track down this bastard.”

  “Yes sir,” they both reply.

  “Bergman, you’ll provide Detective Roland translations of all the letters before you leave today so that CSI won’t have to do it.”

  I nod my head slowly. “Yes sir.”

  “And Bergman you’re officially suspended from duty once you finish those translations.”

  Suspended? A wave of relief sweeps through me. That’s much better than fired. “I understand, sir.”

  “Good. Let’s move, people. We’re a long way from closing this case and I don’t want to see any more girls murdered. Understood?”

  “Yes sir,” we all say.

  Ten years of my life have been spent hunting the Braille Killer and now it’s out of my hands. Relief passes through me like a fleeting memory and I’m left right where I started. How can I move forward knowing he’s still out there? What am I going to do with myself? For once in my life the future is unclear, and it scares the hell out of me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I am an uninhabitable island drifting to and fro in the middle of a vast ocean. Storm waves crash against my rocks and crags and erode my beaches until there’s nothing left of me but a hollow shell of what I once was, my beauty and intrigue lost forever.

  The drive from the police station to Mother’s house proved to me that Seth and I could refrain from conversation for an extended period of time. It also proved that Seth is upset with me. I understand, and I search for the right words to express my sorrow and regret for what I’ve done to him. Several times I open my mouth to speak but the words fall short of my lips, none of them good enough to justify my betrayal. So much pain could’ve been avoided had I allowed him in.

  How will we move forward?

  We sit in his car in Mother’s driveway with the windows rolled down. The evening sun hangs low in the sky, a blob of light in my vision. Its brutalizing heat morphs me into a bundle of flesh and blood and sweat inside my clothes. I imagine Seth is much the same but all I can smell is his cologne, that sweet succulent fragrance that I cannot bear to live without.

  My heart is a cesspool of grief. It aches in my chest and burns in my throat like acid. My mind is worn and tired, desperate to distance itself from all the lies and hurt and shame that I’ve received and given.

  What I seek is redemption but not by the hand of some god sitting on his throne high in the clouds and pulling my marionette strings. No, my redemption will come when the Braille Killer is brought to justice and I can breathe easy again.

  An ocean of silence lies between us and we continue to drift apart. I paddle hard, but the current is swift, and I find myself in a losing battle. The greater the distance, the harder it is to imagine anything but the silence, and the thought of breaking it becomes more awkward.

  Seth shifts in his seat, rippling the waters and changing the tide. His voice is an echo in the distance. “Explain yourself, Alice. Explain to me how and why you’ve lived this double life.”

  I hug myself for comfort. “Do you think I wanted any of this or that it was easy for me? Every day I tried to find a reason to tell you what was happening to me, but all those reasons always came back to one simple fact: if I let you in you would pity me, and I just couldn’t handle the thought of that. I didn’t want you to know the vulnerable, shame-filled woman I used to be. I needed you to see me for who I wanted to be so that I could become her for you.”

  Tears swell in my eyes and I brush them away with the backs of my hands. “I can’t tell you how hard it was getting through every day knowing that the man who beat me and raped me and abused me walked freely without fear of retribution, and how he still manipulates me year after year, conditioning me to believe that everything that happened was all my fault and that I brought it upon myself.”

  Seth clears his throat. “I understand what you’re saying, and I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through, but that’s no excuse for shutting me out.”

  I ball my hands and hold them against my chest. “Everything I am has been wrapped up in this for ten years. I should’ve gone to the police with the evidence a year ago, but I can’t change that now. My rape is different though. That’s personal and something I can’t shake the shame from.”

  Seth breathes heavily and sighs loudly. “I get that, and I don’t begrudge you for keeping it from me, but I cannot reconcile the connection between you and the woman I grew to love. I can’t help but
wonder if she ever existed.”

  I reach out and find his hand, but he moves it away and my heart sinks. “I am the same woman today as I was yesterday. The only thing that has changed is the amount of detail you know about my past.”

  “No, Alice, there’s a big difference.” The tone in his voice is harsh but I think it stems from hurt and not anger. “The woman I love would never lie and manipulate me like you’ve done. God, I feel sorry for what you’ve been through, but you left me in such an uncomfortable position. Can you imagine my surprise when we find a storage key on your key ring and it leads us to what we found? That devastated me, Alice. Do you understand that?”

  My throat tightens, and I want to reach across the car and hold him, but he’s an ocean away and my arms cannot stretch that far. “I understand why you feel that way, but you gotta believe me when I tell you that I did it to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” His anger flares. “No, you did it to protect yourself. You’ve been manipulating me since the day we met. I’ve given you my heart and soul and you’ve left me holding nothing but a bag of rocks. Empty words and lies that I cling to as I fall; vapor between my fingers. I trusted you with my life and my heart. Now you’ve broken both.”

  The ground between us fissures and expands to a gaping crevice in a blink. My heart shreds, and sorrow fills its cracks. “I’m so sorry, Seth. Tell me what to do to rectify this and I will. I’d do anything for you.”

  His silence is far worse than any torture I’ve ever known. I bawl without restraint, gasping for air between words. “The last two years of my life have been the only ones I’d live again. You found me at my lowest and lifted me from the ashes of my past. You brought stability into a world of chaos and filled me with hope when I thought there was none to be had. You are my heart and my soul and the love of my life. Please don’t shut me out.”

  “I’m sorry, but there’s no special phrase you could say or act that you could perform that would reverse the damage you’ve caused.”

  If I could get on my knees in the car I would. “I’m not saying that there is. I’m just asking for your forgiveness so that we can move forward.”