Scheme Of Sin (Wayne Falls Book 3)

by John J. Hunter

CHAPTER 3

  Light filtered inside from the slits in the closet door; her thirteen-year-old self inched closer toward them and peered outside. Her mother, Rita, cowered in the corner of her bedroom looking up frightfully at the assailant — she had gazed lovingly in the man's eyes just six months ago as they said their wedding vows.

  He towered over her, tears streaming down his face, his lip quivering and his eyes shining with madness.

  "Please . . . think about our daughter," her mom pleaded.

  "I am babe . . . I am," he blubbered.

  The sound of the shot reverberated through the house. Alice squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears but it still could not muffle the sound of the second shot going off moments after the first one.

  She stayed inside the closet, curled up on the floor for what felt like an eternity, the deafening silence suffocating her.

  One of the neighbors called 911. The police, paramedics, and the FBI encircled the house an hour later. Since her mom was an FBI agent, her death was noted as a federal crime.

  Alice shrank into the shadows, trying to make herself small and invisible when the closet door was pulled open. A mousy-haired woman wearing an FBI jacket whispered soothing words of comfort and coaxed her to take her hand and step out.

  She was careful not to glance sideways at her mother’s corpse as the woman escorted her out of the bedroom. But out in the hallway, her eyes flitted to the side and she glimpsed an officer kneeling beside a body bag, pulling the zipper shut. Just before he closed it all the way, she saw a tuft of dark hair, matted to the skull with congealed blood.

  The banging on the bathroom door snapped her awake.

  "Alice! Alice! Is everything alright?" Naomi's panicked voice came from outside.

  The emotions she had buried deep inside long ago had erupted to the surface when she least suspected, rendering her mute and paralyzed. She felt the same bodily sensation of being stuck inside the closet, fear raking her skin.

  Naomi waited for a few more moments then kicked the door open. She stormed inside and looked around. It took a while for the steam that had accumulated inside to dissipate. She was startled to find Alice sitting on the floor hugging her knees looking petrified while water gushed from the shower.

  She hurried to turn off the tap and pulled a towel from the ring holder. Naomi draped the towel over Alice's naked body, helping her to her feet and steering her out of the bathroom.

  "Are you okay?" she asked as she set her down on the bed.

  She felt weighed down by a terrible exhaustion. Her eyes dropped shut and her body felt limp.

  Naomi grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. "Did you eat anything since this morning?"

  Naomi had woken up way before Alice and hurriedly eaten breakfast at the hotel's dining area downstairs before heading to the beach. She had not seen Alice all day and had no clue of her or Tyler's whereabouts.

  "Let's get you dressed first then I'll go grab some dinner," she affectionately, brushing a strand of her red hair behind Alice’s ear.

  Alice managed a feeble nod in response.

  Naomi got her changed into a T-shirt and pajamas then grabbed her car keys and dashed outside.

  Alice curled up under the sheet trying to block out the painful throbbing in her head. The memories flooded her again, washing over her like crashing waves.

  She was told her mother sustained a fatal wound to the chest from the gunshot. Her stepfather shot himself in the mouth moments later in the hallway, obliterating his face.

  Her memories of what followed after that fateful day were fuzzy at best, probably due to the strong antidepressants she was being administered. Glaring white walls, a flimsy hospital gown, and a grim-faced doctor urging her to relive the harrowing episode for the millionth time was all she could remember.

  The more they forced her to recount the experience and voice her feelings,the more she pulled away, shutting them out. As she moved from one foster home to another, she increasingly began preferring pills over people.

  Naomi gently shook her awake. Naomi's heart-shaped face framed with blonde hair slowly came into focus as she forced her eyelids to open.

  "Come on, let's sit up and eat," she said and pulled her to a sitting position.

  Alice blinked hard. She rubbed her forehead hoping it would make the pain go away.

  The sight of the brown paper bags with the golden arches made her stomach churn as she was reminded of the dumpster outside Jimmy's.

  "Dig in," said Naomi as she took out a burger from the bag and handed it to her.

  Gingerly, Alice peeled away the paper and took a bite.

  "So, where were you guys all day?" asked Naomi, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside hers, munching on her burger.

  "Needles," Alice replied, chewing on the burger. The gelatinous meat patty made her stomach turn again. Afraid that the raw meaty taste would make her throw up, she swallowed it in one giant gulp.

  Naomi cocked an eyebrow. "Do you know what the word 'vacation' means?"

  "I couldn't let it go," she replied, forcing herself to take another bite. "There's been another killing, a woman this time. I'm working on a criminal profile." She chewed thoughtfully.

  The conversation made Naomi feel uneasy.

  Alice did not appear to notice. She munched on the burger as she pondered over the day's events, the queasiness she felt earlier subsiding. "An above-average IQ, advanced knowledge of the human anatomy, and no specific gender preferences." Alice counted the attributes of the supposed killer. The sound of crumpling paper broke her train of thought and she looked up, startled.

  Naomi had finished eating and stood crushing the paper bag with her hands, rolling it into a ball, and tossing it in the trash can. “Guess I’ll go walk along the beach to burn off those calories before I sleep. Are you going to be okay by yourself?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Alice replied, surprised by Naomi’s sudden decision to leave.

  Naomi strode toward the bathroom and picked up a plastic bag stuffed with the clothes Alice had taken off earlier. She grimaced as she held it in her hands. “Do you mind if I drop these at the laundromat?” She had a peek at Alice’s wardrobe when she took out clothes for her to wear and had an idea that Alice could not afford to throw them out, which was what she wanted to do earlier.

  Alice shook her head.

  Naomi gave a short nod and strode out of the room.

  Alice took a few more bites of the burger then stuffed it in the paper bag, rolling it up and placing it on the nightstand. She reached out to turn off the lamp on her bedside, her hand stopping short midway. She had a flashback of the crushing silence and eerie darkness inside the closet. Her fingers trembled and she retracted her hand.

  Pulling the covers over her, she curled up and squeezed her eyes shut, the erratic beating of her heart filling the silence in the room.

  ***

  San Bernardino Police Chief, Eric Warshaw, had a lackluster career. There were no photographs with world dignitaries hanging on the wall behind his desk and no prestigious awards or titles to get framed. A small photograph encased in a golden frame lay propped up on his desk showing a happy brown-haired boy and a smiling blonde woman standing next to him.

  The absence of white strands in his hair suggested that the photograph was taken some time ago. He glanced at the photograph as he read through the file in his hand. His family was his pride. He may not have had a stellar career in the police force but he had a happy marriage and he was a good father — some days that was more than enough.

  Eric flipped through the pages; the cut-up body parts made his stomach turn. What kind of sick animal would do something like that? He had worked on a few homicides in his career but nothing of this sort.

  A newspaper lay on the desk with the chill-inducing headline: BEWARE OF THE BUTCHER. Eric was a man of humble ambitions but this was an opportunity that he would be a fool to pass up on. With scant evidence and almost no leads, he was more than certain the c
ase would go cold. But he was all set to make the most of this fleeting chance of being famous.

  He had already been contacted by local and national news channels and he was ready to step into the limelight. Closing the file shut, he pulled out a small mirror from the drawer.

  Staring at his reflection, he smoothed his hair — styled in a quiff and white at the temples. He had a wide forehead, sharp blue eyes, and a thin frowning mouth with a thin bristly mustache on top.

  An interview with a local news channel was scheduled for him that afternoon and he had to look his best. He adjusted his brown spotted tie around the collar of the crisp blue shirt which he was wearing.

  He put the mirror away and took out a mouth freshener spray. The phone started to ring as he spritzed his tongue.

  He picked up the receiver, bringing it to his ear. "Chief Warshaw speaking," he said.

  He was surprised to hear FBI Assistant Director CIRG, Marcus Lee, introduce himself on the other side.

  "I am calling about the recent murders in the area. It seems a crazed serial killer is on the loose in San Bernardino County. We understand that the local authorities don't have the skills or the expertise to deal with a crime of this magnitude."

  "Whatever gave you that impression?" Eric grunted, annoyed by the patronizing tone of the FBI director.

  "The recent events have terrorized the residents and the nation at large," Marcus continued, ignoring the defensive tone in Eric's voice. "The FBI would like to offer its resources and manpower to your department to solve this heinous crime and bring the murderer to justice."

  He was not ready to let the FBI step in and take over the investigation, effectively pushing him out of the spotlight. But there was also little that he could do to dissuade the Federal Bureau of Investigation from doing so.

  The police chief harrumphed, gave terse responses to his next few questions, and hung up irked by the phone call.

  He had seen the little red-haired FBI girl frolicking around the crime scene in the Mojave Desert where they had found the woman's dismembered body. Even before the case was assigned to her, she had been meddling in the investigation, and he did not appreciate it.

  To think that he would have to take orders from a new recruit, after a lifelong career in the armed forces, infuriated him beyond imagination. Seething with rage, he picked up the case file, yanked open the drawer, shoved it inside, and slammed the drawer shut. Incensed that they wanted him to do the bidding of a snot-faced little girl, he grabbed the newspaper, crushing it with his meaty hands into a crumpled up ball and flinging it aside. It collided with a framed certificate of participation in a training program hanging on the wall on his side, turning it askew.

  He would not play second fiddle to a toddler.

  ***

  Alice scooped her clothes from where she had wearily dumped them in the closet a few days ago and placed them inside the open duffel bag. Ever since they arrived in Malibu, she could not shake the feeling that she did not belong here.

  She had just gotten off the phone with Marcus. Being asked to lead the investigation on the San Bernardino Butcher filled her with a sense of relief. She quickly packed her bags, ready to catch the first bus to Needles.

  Naomi sat on her bed with one leg atop the other, watching Alice buzz with energy as she packed her duffel bag. She could not understand what was wrong with Alice and why she felt such a strong need to solve the murders.

  "Your joy at finding release from wide-open skies and the ocean is palpable," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  "We all have different definitions of joy," Alice replied, as she continued to pack. "Some find joy in seeking calm and quiet, others find joy in the search for the truth."

  Naomi looked impressed by her sagacious reply.

  There was a knock on the door. Alice looked through the peephole and quickly opened the door to let Tyler inside. He walked in looking bewildered.

  His expression alarmed both Naomi and Alice. His eyes darted from Alice to Naomi and then to the open duffel bag on Alice's bed.

  "You might want to hold that off for a bit," he said.

  Alice furrowed her brow and asked, "Why?" She could not wait to be out of Malibu and headed toward Needles.

  Tyler hesitated a moment. "Another body has turned up."

  ***

  A strong ocean breeze blew over the shore, ruffling Loren's long blonde hair. She looked over the vast expanse of blue spread out as far as the eye could see. She loved everything about the beach — the salty air, the crashing waves, and the warm sand beneath her feet.

  A seagull screeched in the distance. She looked up and saw her fiance, Ryland, walking toward her. A smile crept upon her lips as she watched him approach. He was everything she was looking for in a partner.

  Tall and handsome, he had a great career ahead of him in the corporate world, but what she found the most striking was his deep concern for environmentalism.

  Raised by hippie vegans, Loren always felt like the odd one out at school. Later on, she struggled to find men who cared as much as she did about the environment and who did not look down at her minimalistic lifestyle with disdain.

  He strode toward her with a glowing smile on his face and bent down to kiss her on the lips. Loren’s eyes shone with a giddy excitement as their lips parted. She could not wait until the wedding.

  “Come on, let’s take a walk along the shore?” Ryland asked, offering her a hand to get up.

  Loren held his hand as he pulled her to her feet, the diamond shining brightly on one of her slender fingers. They strolled along the shore, the waves lapping at their feet and the wind playing with their hair.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” Loren murmured, sliding an arm around his and pulling him close. “It’s beautiful.”

  They stopped and stared at the ocean, the sun casting its orange glow over the water. The picturesque scenery filled her heart with joy. She rested her head over Ryland's shoulder, gazing at the shimmering water.

  Something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Her head snapped to the left, her expression changing from peaceful serenity to mild annoyance. How could people be so reckless?

  She could not fathom why people took their planet and all the beauty nature had to offer for granted.

  Why couldn't a mesmerizing scene, like the one that she was witnessing, persuade people to change their ways? Why were they hell-bent on trashing and polluting every inch of land that they could find?

  Startled, Ryland looked up as she pulled her hand away from his and began marching down the shore all by herself.

  "Loren! Loren! What's wrong?" he called out as he chased after her.

  "Oh, the nerve these people have," Loren grumbled as she loped toward the garbage bag floating back and forth with the waves "Throwing their trash in a place like this!" She grabbed the bag, pulling it away from the waves and dragging it to the shore.

  Ryland looked helplessly at his fiance. "Babe! Babe! You don't have to do that. Let me see if I can get someone else to do it."

  "It's fine," she huffed. "I'll manage."

  Ryland admired his fiance's love of nature but there were times he found her a bit extreme. The plastic ripped as she heaved the bag, spilling its contents outside. Loren and Ryland stared in shock at the wallet, driver’s license, and credit cards littered at their feet. A pile of clothes was visible inside the bag from where it had torn open.

  Irritated, Loren began picking up the cards and the wallet.

  “Babe, stop! Maybe someone left it behind by mistake,” Ryland pleaded. “They’ll probably come back looking for it. Let’s just put these things to the side and leave.”

  “Come on, Ryland. We can leave these things here. We’ll have to take them down to the police department. Whoever lost them can retrieve them from there.”

  He let out an exasperated sigh.

  She stuffed the cards in the wallet, giving a cursory glance at the picture of a man with short blonde hair. Sh
e bent down to put the things back inside the bag and peered at the clothes — a red and black checkered shirt and jeans. Her forehead wrinkled as she stared at the clothes. The bag felt heavy when she tried moving it.

  Overcome with curiosity, she shuffled the clothes. Ryland was shocked when Loren jumped back and let out a loud shriek. He ran to comfort her, confused about what had happened.

  She kneeled on the ground, covering her face and crying. Her body shuddered as she sobbed loudly.

  He wrapped his arms tightly around her and gave her a gentle shake. "What's wrong, babe?"

  She lifted a trembling finger, pointing at the bag.

  Ryland let go of her arm and stood up. He walked slowly toward the bag, his skin tingling with dread. His insides twisted into an uncomfortable knot as he bent down and looked inside.

  The human head that lay atop the clothes seared an image in his mind that he knew he would never forget. Had it not been for the fact that it was severed from the body, he could not tell by the expression on the man's face that he was dead. His closed eyes and relaxed facial muscles gave him the appearance of someone enjoying a peaceful sleep.

  He stumbled backward, helped Loren to her feet, and the two ran down the beach as fast as they could, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the dead man as possible.

  CHAPTER 4

  Alice walked up to the door and rapped her knuckles against it. She waited on the doorstep nervously. It was always unsettling to face the families of the victims and deliver news of their deaths.

  A bright-eyed woman in her late thirties opened the door. She looked her up and down and gave a confused smile. Alice looked at her red painted nails and lipstick. Her lustrous blonde hair rolled into neat curls around the shoulders and her knee length dress with a flaring skirt gave her an uncanny resemblance to a 1950s housewife.

  "May I help you?" she asked with a curious smile.

  It almost made Alice turn on her heels, bolt toward the car, and leave. Man up, she told herself as she squared her shoulders. You signed up for this.

  "FBI Special Agent Alice Sloan," she introduced herself as she took out her badge and flicked it open. "May I speak to Mrs. Keune?"