by Iris Bolling
“Gerald Bynum?” The Mayor asked. “Have we vetted him yet?”
“Bynum? Alex began his background check, but there are a few things still outstanding on him,” Frank replied.
“This case is too sensitive to trust anyone who has not been cleared. Is there anyone in the Major Crimes Division you trust to partner up with Reigns on this case?”
“Tony Harper.”
“All right,” Mayor Palmer sighed. “Do what you can to put him on the case without being detected.” He shook his head. “This is a hard one to swallow. Alex was the heart of our internal investigation.” He stared at Frank. “It may be the reason he is dead.”
“My thinking as well.” Frank agreed. “Mr. Mayor, Judge Fontaine’s oldest daughter Regan was someone Alex cared a lot about. I’m pretty certain the feelings were mutual. Should we tell him about Alex’s death before it hits the news?”
“Are you concerned he may tell his daughter before we are ready?”
“She’s his daughter,” Frank shrugged. “I would tell mine.”
“Understood.” Mayor Palmer nodded. “I will handle telling Judge Fontaine. You do what you can to set up Reigns to handle this case.” The Mayor stood. “Free rein on this one, Chief. Forgive the play on words. But I think we both know he is going to uncover some things many would kill to keep secret.”
“Understood.” Chief Williams nodded. “It will have to be slow-walked to keep officers from being suspicious, but there are ways to give him everything he is going to need.”
“We are going to have to identify someone to take over where Burnett left off.”
“I think Chief Judge Fontaine may have a recommendation for you,” Chief Williams replied.
“Very well.” Mayor Palmer walked Frank to the door. “This is a blow, Frank. But we cannot let it deter us from the investigation. We must ensure our justice system is fair to all. My hope is that Alex’s death is not connected to this investigation. If it is, that means we have been discovered. If that is true, it is going to make our task that much more difficult to complete.”
“It also puts a target on each of our backs,” Frank stated. “Keep yourself and your loved ones protected.”
“Are you forgetting who Sapphire’s siblings are? Or whose mother you are seeing? I think we will be okay. However, we are going to have to put protection on Chief Judge Fontaine.”
“He’s going to raise hell about that,” Frank noted.
“I can deal with his mouth, his death I cannot.”
“Understood,” Frank turned to leave.
“Watch your back, Frank,” the Mayor said.
Chief Williams stepped out. The rain was a little heavier as he ran to his vehicle. He picked up his radio as soon as he was inside. “Get me Captain Daniels on the line.”
“The news about Alex is devastating for our team and the investigation.”
L.T. turned to see Sapphire leaning against the entrance to their bedroom. He exhaled. “To continue we need someone from the inside who we can trust.”
“I will make some inquires,” she responded. “We have vetted a number of people in the Commonwealth Attorney’s office. I’m certain someone will clear our bar. If not, we can always turn to the Department of Justice.”
“Begin there,” L.T. directed. “I’m not ready to trust anyone in the CA’s office or RPD until I know what happened to Alex.”
“Understandable.”
“Sapphire,” he hesitated, “If what we think is happening, Detective Reigns is going to need assistance outside of City Hall. Is your team ready to take assignments?”
“We are,” she replied.
L.T. nodded. “Good. I have a feeling the city is about to be torn apart.”
“Our intel indicates this may be widespread across the country. Are you ready to bring Detective Reigns on the inside?”
“It’s time,” L.T. nodded.
“I’ll advise the team.”
5
Blue lights and yellow police tape were the first indication that the upscale metropolitan community of Claiborne-Hill had been touched by violence. Major Crimes Detective Nathan "Nate" Reigns walked through at least a dozen men in blue, who were securing the crowd that had converged onto the scene. Nate pulled out his identification, flipping his gold badge in one of the officer’s directions. The officer controlling the scene checked his credentials, then allowed him access to the building.
Before entering the building, Nate did what Alex taught him to do at every murder scene. He scanned the faces of the people in the crowd. Even in the rain, several onlookers had gathered. He took note of which reporters were in the crowd, which gave him some idea of how long they could keep the victim’s identity from leaking. This was going to be a high-profile case, in addition to a personal one for him.
Nate took a moment to absorb the news of Alex’s death before facing the unit. When dispatch advised it was a VIP named Alex Burnett, he literally dropped the phone. For a moment, he stood there paralyzed, staring at the device as if it was a foreign object. The operator on the other end was calling his name. He picked up the phone, apologized then asked her to repeat the name. Commonwealth Attorney Alexander Burnett. His mind was reeling, hoping against hope that once he walked inside Alex was going to open the door and yell- ‘got you!’ Now that he was here, seeing all the officers stationed outside the building, he knew this was not a prank from Alex. Taking a deep breath, Nate turned to the entrance.
An officer opened the double glass doors, as Nate moved forward.
The lobby of the building was filled with officers in blue and plain clothes detectives, with weary looks on their faces. One of their own was down. This case was going to be far from normal. Placing the palm of his hand on the electronic tablet the officer held to record his time of arrival, Nate nodded in greeting.
“You going to be okay, Detective Reigns? We know how close you were to Alex.”
Nate nodded. “I appreciate the concern, Officer. But I don’t have an answer for you yet. Let me get back to you on that.”
It was agency policy to track every person who was on a crime scene, to eliminate fingerprints and DNA from officers working the case from possible suspects. There had been times in his previous profession where officers had not followed the protocol to protect the scene, which allowed him to have evidence in a case thrown out. He was glad to see this one was going by the book. There was no place for technicalities that could cause a case to be dismissed when they found the culprit. And make no mistake, Nate was going to find that person.
Nate looked out the floor to ceiling glass windows in the lobby at the spectacle of reporters, camera crews and boom mics, trying to pick up whatever they could to report back to the station. It was possible one out of the lot may actually care about the truth. The others, well, their interest was in whatever would sell the most papers or grab the leading headline.
It’s only the beginning, Nate thought as he nodded his appreciation to the officer taking his prints. He turned toward the bank of elevators ahead, trying to avoid the eyes of the detectives from his squad. He wasn't in the mood for questions. He saw Jim, the security man for the building, with detectives surrounding him. Nate sensed he was catching hell from the detectives interviewing him. Jim was a good man caught up in a bad moment in time. Nate walked over, shook Jim's hand.
"You okay, Jim?" The older man nodded, remorse in his eyes. “I’m going to need your security tapes. In the meantime, tell them what you can," he said, reassuring the man. "Gentlemen," Nate spoke to the detectives, "I'll be upstairs."
"Nate, man, look, there is no love lost between us, but I know how close you were to Alex. I'm sorry about this." One of the detectives frowned.
Nate nodded, “I appreciate that,” then continued on his way. He didn’t need directions as his long legs swiftly moved closer to a place, he knew all too well. Hell, he helped decorate the game room in the condo. The thought that this place he loved so much was now a crime scene was h
ard to digest.
"Nate, wait," came the rushing plea of Detective Cory Vaughan, his partner for the last three months.
Nate turned to his right to see his dirty blond hair, blue-eyed partner heading in his direction. His trench coat open, flapping outward as he walked swiftly towards him. Nate was a decent reader of people. Most of the time, he took people for who they were and dealt with them in that way. Cory, he could not get a good read on. There were times when he was aloof, which made him wonder who made the man a detective. Then there were times Nate felt he was cunning as hell but trying hard to keep it under wraps. Either way, until he could get a solid read on the man, Nate kept his distance. Cory was duplicitous and eager. However, there were times when Cory knew just a little too much about him. Nate often wondered if he was placed as his partner for a reason. The higher brass, meaning his Captain and the Deputy Chief, had made their disdain for Nate clear. Vaughan could be a plant they placed close to him, trying to get something, anything on him that would convince the Chief to get rid of him. That was something Nate was pretty sure was not going to happen.
"Let me handle this one," Cory suggested as he stopped in front of Nate. "You're too close to the situation."
Nate, dressed in his black trench coat and dark blue suit with an open collar dress shirt, that had become his trademark since making detective three years ago, stopped. If the situation wasn't enough to caution Cory, the look Nate sent his way should have been a warning to take a step back. It wasn't. The man stood in front of Nate blocking his path to the elevator.
Glaring down at the five-eleven, slim, prep school looking man, Nate spoke coolly, "Get the hell out of my way, Vaughan."
Cory stood his ground. When Nate increased the intensity of his stare, Cory stepped aside, then threw his hands up in surrender.
"You shouldn't go up there," he spoke to Nate’s angry back as he followed him towards the elevator.
An officer stood, holding the doors to the elevator open, allowing quick access to the twenty-seventh floor. “Detective,” the officer spoke.
“Officer.” Nate nodded.
Once inside, Nate watched as Cory jumped in after him. As the doors closed, he watched Cory step back giving him the space he needed.
“Give me the run down, Vaughan.”
"The body was discovered at 9:56 pm by a neighbor. She stepped off the elevator and noticed the victim’s door was open. It was unusual to her, so she called out. When she received no answer, she stepped inside and found the body hanging in the bedroom." Cory opened his tablet, giving Nate the details of the case thus far. "The neighbors down the hall corroborate her story. Neighbors heard the screams and came running."
“Alex Burnett,” Nate stated. “You referred to him as the victim when you damn well know his name is Alex Burnett.”
6
The elevator beeped indicating it had reached its destination. Nate walked off finding more officers along the corridor leading towards the condo at the end of the hallway. He acknowledged a few of the officers whose expressions carried the same disbelief that had plagued him since receiving the call. The feeling of dread he always experienced at a crime scene was now in full effect, only this time it felt as if it was going to suffocate him.
"Nate," Detective Tony Harper spoke as he walked in. "It's not good." The older detective, with a receding hairline and a few extra pounds around the middle, shook his head.
Harp, as Nate referred to him, was one of the more seasoned detectives from their squad. From the first day he walked into the MC Unit, Tony called him ‘Kid,’ because he was the same age as Harp's youngest son. Tonight, he called him Nate. Another indicator that this was real.
Harp gave Nate a pair of latex gloves and shoe covers. "I never expected Alex to go out this way."
"Where is he?" Nate asked as he covered his shoes and hands.
"Bedroom closet." Harp pulled out his handkerchief and wiped tears from his face.
Nate patted him on his shoulder, "Take a moment, Harp. I'll check things out."
Not sure he would fare any better, Nate entered the single bedroom apartment. Flashes of him and Alex hanging out in the great room with the plush, cloud-like white carpet ran through his mind. Trying hard to keep his emotions in check, Nate shook that thought away. Walking further into the apartment memories assailed him. The two of them, sitting on the white sofa with their feet up on the glass table, watching games on the massive television mounted on the wall. He could not count the number of nights he’d slept on that sofa after a few too many drinks. Looking into the kitchen, there were no signs of dinner on the table ―no glasses of wine or drinks. The countertops were clear. Alex’s choice of drink always depended on the woman he was about to meet. If it was Regan, it was always cognac, to settle his nerves; other women, it was wine. There were no signs of either. He made a mental note of the discrepancies. Alex always had a glass of something before going on a date.
Nate passed the CSI team as he walked into the expansive bedroom. He stopped at the sight of the naked body of a woman on the bed. Spanish descent, young, not Alex’s type. While Alex never discriminated when it came to dating, age mattered. You certainly cannot screw them if they cannot communicate on your level. Sex is a form of communication between two people, Alex had said.
“Anyone been inside the room?” Nate asked from the doorway.
“Only the first responders and the person who found the body,” an officer replied.
Nate nodded as he walked to the bed. “I want to talk with her.”
“Yes. My partner is in her apartment with her.”
Nate nodded as he began examining the female from head to toe. There were red marks around her neck, with a tinge of blue. Her feet, one on the bed, the other hanging down the side of the bed, had some type of marking on it. There was no physical evidence of sexual activity. The woman was fair skinned. If her body had been touched during sex, there would be signs of physical activity somewhere. The sheets on the bed were turned down, but they weren’t ruffled or disturbed in any way. Nothing else in the room appeared out of place. Alex was neat, but the master suite was spotless, as if it had just been cleaned. Nate looked around, taking in every aspect of the room. The working theory of murder suicide was wrong. This was murder. A cold-blooded, double murder.
Nate turned towards the closet. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, to get his mind right. He needed objectivity to take in the crime scene. Emotions would blur his judgment. Exhaling, he took slow strides until he reached the opening of the closet. There, hanging from a rafter by a belt, he saw the naked body of his ex-partner and friend.
His knees buckled beneath him. The sight of his friend hanging was more than he could take. His first instinct was to pull Alex down and cover him. But he could not allow anyone to see him showing his anger. Wiping his tears away with his hand, Nate stood. He had to process the scene. Try to recreate what may have happened in his mind.
From the doorway of the closet, Nate looked back at the woman. He turned on his small flashlight, checking the carpet from the bed to the closet. Bending down, he scanned the area of the carpet under the body.
"What in the hell happened, Alex?" he whispered.
Nate shined the light over the area beneath the lifeless body then stood back and observed the area. The closet was at least fifteen by twenty-five feet in size. The wall to the right was lined with suits, mostly dark in color, shirts, mostly white in color, and a rotating tie and belt rack. The arguments they’d had in the past over ties, stirred a deep emotion in Nate's chest.
A tie makes a suit, Alex would say.
A suit without a tie makes a bolder statement, Nate would counter.
Shaking the thoughts away, he continued to survey the room. Next to the tie rack, shelves of shoes were neatly arranged. On the other side were a variety of sweaters, jeans, and sneakers. In the center of the room, stood an island housing jewelry, wallets, handkerchiefs, and other accessories. The closet was as he remember
ed—neat, orderly, and clean. A little too clean. That was what was bugging him. Nate used his flashlight again, to examine the carpet in the area directly beneath where Alex hung. He bent down to take a closer look, there was no disturbance.
"What are you looking for?" Cory asked from behind him. "This is clearly a murder-suicide."
"Really?" Nate asked sarcastically without getting up or turning to his partner. He continued with his examination of the carpet.
"Things got a little out of hand during sex. He strangled the woman. Couldn't live with what he had done and killed himself."
"Is that a fact, Sherlock?" Nate asked as he continued to assess the area.
"Look, I know the man was your ex-partner, but shit happens you know." Cory stated, almost as if he was boasting, "It looks as if your hero was human after all. He had flaws just like the rest of us."
Nate stood, turning on his partner ready to knock Cory on his ass when he saw Captain Harry Daniels enter the room.
"Tell me this is not what it seems," Captain Daniels demanded, sending a hard glare his lead detective’s way.
"It's not…" Nate responded.
"It appears to be a murder-suicide," Cory jumped in.
"Appearances can be deceiving." Nate gave Cory a look of warning, while straining to keep his composure. One wrong outburst and he knew the captain would not give him the case. "Look at the bed. Now," he waited a beat. "I don't know about you, but when I have sex, the sheets show evidence, if they are still on the bed at all." He then motioned towards the area where his ex-partner’s naked body still hung. "If he hung himself, why are there no footprints in the carpet around the area? There are vacuum lines under him." He pointed out the track marks left in the carpet. "Tell me Sherlock, what did he do…hang himself then clean up afterwards?" Nate folded his arms across his chest. “Alex’s body is completely naked. Did he hang up his clothes, if so, why?”
Everyone in the room looked around.
