by James Hunt
“What?”
“Yeah, a red Crayola crayon, to be more specific. Anyway, that was all they could tell me.”
“All right. Thanks.” Cooper ended the call and gripped the sides of the sink. She took a few slow breaths and shook her head, the bits of water flinging off her cheeks. She jumped in the shower quickly, washing off the grime from the past two days. Once clean, she felt the hangover loosen its grip. She dressed, chugged another glass of water, then headed out the door with her hair still wet.
Cooper kept the lights and sirens off on the way over, focusing all of her energy and what remained of her broken mental capacity to stay in her lane. She reached into the glove box and pulled out a bag of chips. She tore it open and inhaled it before the red light she was stopped at turned green.
Despite the water, shower, and licking the crumbs from the chip bag, when Cooper arrived at Kate Wurstshed’s house she still felt as though she’d been run over by a car, twice. She caught her hands shaking when she unhooked her seat belt and paused before getting out. She took a few deep breaths, flexing her hand into a fist until it steadied.
Kate’s house was a modest townhome in one of the nicer suburbs of Baltimore that had yet to be hit by the foreclosure epidemic. It wasn’t rich but had a low crime rate, something every citizen hoped to have the opportunity to afford.
A short white picket fence lined the front yard’s perimeter, which was overgrown with grass. Cooper lingered at the gate, noticing there was no car in the driveway. Before she made it to the front door, she checked the sides of the house, looking for any other exits, but found none. Cooper rang the doorbell and waited, focusing most of her attention on trying to stand upright. “Mrs. Wurstshed! It’s Detective Cooper.”
Another minute passed, and she rang the doorbell again. She pressed her face against the front window, trying to get a look inside. With the blinds drawn she couldn’t see anything. She went to reach for the handle once more, and when she smacked the door with her palm it pushed open. She froze, watching the door swing inside. “Mrs. Wurstshed?” But the only answer was the creaking door hinges as she stepped inside.
The living room was still and quiet. The air had a stale quality that accompanied a home that hadn’t been occupied. Cooper looked around, checking for anything out of place, but with the television and computer still inside, it looked as though nothing was stolen. She un-holstered her pistol and scanned the room. “Baltimore Police Department!” She paused, listening for any movement, but nothing answered.
Cooper kept her pistol aimed and checked the dining room, kitchen, and utility room, all empty. All that remained was a long hallway on the east side of the house. It connected from the living room, and when Cooper looked down the narrow corridor she saw three doors. The first two doors were halfway down the hall and positioned directly across from each other on the left and right. The third door was all the way at the end of the hall. All of them were shut.
Cooper checked behind her, making sure no one else had followed her inside, then slowly made her way down the hall, pistol aimed in front of her and her arms and shoulders locked tight. She felt her hands grow slick with sweat, and she blamed her heightened pulse on the whiskey still working its way out of her system. She stopped just short of the two doors in the middle of the hallway, looking down under the cracks for any light or movement, but everything remained still. She reached for the door knob with her left hand. She curved her fingers around the bronze knob then shoved it open quickly.
A ragged-looking woman with a pistol in her hand stared back at her, and Cooper nearly shot the mirror image of herself above the bathroom sink. Her heart pounded faster, and she swallowed spit as dry as sand. She flicked on the lights, exposing the drawn bath curtain that protected the tub. Two steps forward, and she was practically in the tub herself. The brief reprieve of anxiety vanished as she reached for the bath curtain, again keeping one hand on the pistol. She drew in a breath and yanked the curtain back. But all that stared back at her was the soap scum that circled the drain.
Cooper rested her head back on the wall, her weapon lowered. The stink of sweat squeezed through her pores, the toxins from the alcohol working their way out of her body. She focused on her breathing, slowing her heart rate, and turned her attention to the door across from the bathroom. She moved to the bathroom doorway where she lingered and listened, waiting for anyone in the house to grow impatient.
After a few minutes, she finally ventured back out into the hallway, her left hand reaching for the door. She tested the handle to check if it was locked, but the knob offered no resistance. Her line of sight fell to the bottom crack to check for any moving shadows, but all was still. Her muscles tensed and she burst through the door, staring down the sights to a neatly made bed.
The room was small, with just enough space for the bed, dresser, and nightstand. The curtain was opened, and sunlight shone through the window. Cooper moved silently over the carpet, her eyes fixed on the closed closet doors. She slid them open, pushing aside dresses and blouses, finding nothing but forgotten fashion trends. She circled the bed then flattened herself to the floor and checked underneath, but there were only more boxes.
Before she stepped back out into the hallway Cooper took a second to let the room’s atmosphere sink in. The light pinks of the sheets and bedspread, the stuffed animals stacked in the corner, all of it suggested a young girl’s room, and not the woman she interviewed the day before.
A picture rested on the nightstand, encased in a silver, rose-studded frame, which caught her eye. The picture was taken outside on a sunny day in a park somewhere. The woman was Kate Wurstshed, but the man she was with had his face scratched out beyond recognition.
Cooper tightened her grip on the frame, and her fingertips flushed white. She stepped out in the hallway once more, her movements more deliberate. She moved quickly, her footsteps silent as she approached the door at the end of the hallway.
She paused when she reached it, noticing the flicker of a light that escaped underneath the crack of the door. She pressed her ear to the side of the doorframe and listened, keeping her breath still, but heard nothing. She reached for the handle, the bronze knob unlocked like the other two. Her heart rate spiked as she felt the click of the lock’s mechanism.
When the door opened it revealed a staircase. A fluorescent glow of the flickering light at the bottom of the stairs flashed sporadically. Cooper aimed her pistol down the steps, waiting for any movement, but all she saw was the broken light that flashed with the consistency of a strobe light.
On her first step the stair groaned loudly, and Cooper cursed under her breath. The flickering light agitated the pounding of her head, but she managed to keep a straight line on the way down and kept the pistol in her hands steady, though she felt the desire for her body to tremble.
Every step revealed more of the basement underneath. At first she saw nothing but the bare concrete of the floor, but when she neared the bottom and turned the corner, the tip of her pistol lowered. “Jesus Christ.”
A twin mattress bare of any sheets was pushed up against the side of the far wall, and a waste bucket sat in the corner. The flickering light was that of a battery-powered lantern. But it was the wall opposite the bed that drew the majority of her attention. She walked to it slowly, her eyes growing wider with every step.
Writing, in what looked like red crayon, covered the wall from floor to ceiling. Most of the scribbles were so small she couldn’t read it until she was only inches away. Everything was written in the form of letters, all of them beginning with “My love,” “Lover,” or “My betrothed.” Cooper reached out her hand and ran her finger along gritty texture the crayon left behind.
Cooper stepped back, taking in all of the groupings of letters on the wall, but the flickering light made them hard to see. What few snippets she managed to read suggested graphic content between two lovers, and a violent obsession. She reached for her phone, dialing dispatch. After two rings she receive
d an answer. “This is Detective Cooper. I’m—”
The pressure that gripped Cooper’s throat choked the words from her lips. She dropped the pistol and instinctively grabbed the hands wrapped around her throat. She was flung violently from side to side, and she struggled to free herself from the vice-like grip squeezing the life from her. The assailant slammed her head against the wall, and Cooper felt a hot burst of warm liquid spout from the point of impact then trickle down her forehead. Her knees buckled, and she dropped to the floor, her assailant falling with her, straddling her waist and pinning her down.
The blurred face of Kate Wurstshed flashed in time with the flickering light. She snarled, her eyes wild with bloodlust. “You shouldn’t have come here, Detective. This wasn’t something you should have seen.” She tightened her grip on Cooper’s throat, and the flashes of lights were suddenly replaced with black spots that grew with every strobe. “You’re not as smart as he thought you were.”
Cooper reached for Kate’s left wrist, and with what strength she had left, twisted it from her neck, which relieved the building pressure in her head, and Kate yelped in pain. She took advantage of the momentum and bucked her hips, flinging Kate off and rolling the two of them across the basement floor. She felt the hard smack of concrete against her knees, elbows, and skull, but Cooper didn’t let up.
On the last rotation across the basement floor Cooper pinned Kate down. “Enough!” Kate thrashed and kicked, and the night of whiskey combined with the morning that lacked food and water weakened her enough for Kate to overpower her.
Cooper landed on her right shoulder, and the room spun. She scrambled to her hands and knees, the floor shifting uneasily as she searched for Kate in the flashing strobe of the lamp. She blinked repeatedly and heard the thump of feet against the staircase. Cooper reached for the gun and sprinted up the steps, wheezing with every breath.
Her vision cleared in the hallway, but Kate was nowhere in sight. She kept the pistol aimed, her joints stiff from the fight, and a limp hindered her gait. The bedroom and bathroom doors were open, and she paused before passing, checking both before heading to the living room. She hugged the wall, peering around the corner.
A gunshot fired, and Cooper ducked back behind cover, the bullet thumping into the drywall. Cooper stayed low and jumped from the corner, finger on the trigger, but holding her fire once she saw Kate had fled to the front yard.
Tires squealed, and Cooper took chase, bursting from the front door, the sight of her pistol aimed at Kate’s taillight. She holstered her weapon and sprinted to the car. She reached for the radio and floored the accelerator, flipping on the sirens and lights. “This is Detective Cooper. I am in pursuit of a red Volkswagen sedan. Suspect is Kate Wurstshed. She is armed and currently headed west toward Interstate 17. Requesting air support and backup.” Cooper jerked the wheel hard left, blowing past a stop sign and triggering a pedestrian to jump out of her path.
“Copy that, Detective. We have units heading your way.”
Two streets later Cooper had the back of the sedan in her sight. Kate swerved across lanes, blew through traffic lights, and had already sideswiped a number of vehicles on the road, nearly crashing both times. Cooper kept tight in her chase, traffic parting from her presence.
Another squad car appeared on Cooper’s left and joined the pursuit. The thump of helicopter blades sounded over the din of sirens, and the radio blared the chopper’s view from above. “Suspect has switched directions and is now heading north on Chester Street.”
Tires screeched, and Cooper felt the tug of the wheel as the weight of the car shifted, and her shoulder slammed into the door, flinging her in the other direction as she straightened out. Every muscle in her body tightened as she floored the accelerator. Her knuckles flashed white on her grip on the steering wheel. Her eyes remained glued to the back of Kate’s car, which maneuvered dangerously through the streets.
The chopper pilot’s voice updated Kate’s position. “Suspect is now heading east on County Road 36.”
Cooper mapped Kate’s trajectory in her head, and she suddenly realized where she was heading. She snatched the radio, screaming into it over the sound of her engine and siren. “This is Detective Cooper. Suspect is heading to Baltimore Storage on Highway 86. I repeat, suspect is heading to Baltimore Storage on Highway 86. All units should converge at that location.” Cooper tossed the receiver in the passenger seat, and the radio filled with confirmation as she followed Kate east.
The police had cleared most of the roads, stopping traffic and getting innocent lives out of the way before any more blood was shed. Once they veered onto Highway 86 a tire spike had been set up, but she watched Kate veer off the side of the road, nearly flying off the coastline and into the ocean to avoid them. Cooper picked up the radio. “I’m coming through. Move the spike!”
Officers scrambled to rip them off the road, and Cooper swerved and missed with only a few inches to spare. She exhaled, but her muscles tightened at the sight of the storage unit. She watched as Kate’s car skid to a stop and then she sprinted inside, gun in hand.
Tires slid across the loose gravel, and Cooper parked right next to Kate’s sedan. She slammed the car door shut just as the fleet of police vehicles pulled in behind her. She pulled her pistol and pointed to the far end of the property. “I need this place locked down now! I want officers on every exit!”
Hurried nods answered back, and no one questioned the authority in her voice. Then, amidst the chaos, Hart appeared. “Hey, you all right?”
Cooper heaved her chest up and down, attempting to catch her breath as the storm of officers covered the exits, establishing a perimeter. “We need her alive. No one shoots unless fired upon.”
The rookie nodded and sprinted into action faster than Cooper expected. Once they received word that the exits were sealed, Cooper led the squad, Hart right behind her, into the long halls of the facility. She stopped just before the entrance, looking back to Hart. “Unit forty-one. That’s where we’ll find her.”
Cooper reached for the light switch in the hallway and flicked it on, the power restored and the fluorescent lighting evaporating the darkness. Cooper inched forward, pistol raised, with at least a half dozen officers behind her. Despite her confidence of where Kate was hiding, they cleared each open door methodically, not willing to risk the chance that she was wrong.
When they reached the turn in the hallway where the unit was located, Cooper paused at the corner, peeking around the edge. Hart darted to the opposite side of the hall’s entrance, and once both confirmed the hall was clear they pressed forward.
The police unit glided through the halls seamlessly, and when they approached storage locker forty-one, Cooper held up her hand, and everyone stopped. “Kate? It’s Detective Cooper. I need you to slide the gun out into the hallway and put your hands in the air.” Silence. “Kate, listen to me. You don’t want to do this. I can help you. Let me help you.”
The laughter was soft at first but grew steadily louder. “I never wanted your help, Detective. Everything I did was an act of love. I did it for him.” Kate’s voice echoed from the empty storage unit, her tone an eerie calm.
Cooper poked her head around the corner and saw Kate on the mattress, pistol still in hand, staring at the blank wall across from her. Before she second-guessed herself, Cooper looked to Hart and mouthed, “Stay here.” Hart scrunched his face in confusion then fear as Cooper slid in the room. Kate glanced up at her when she entered but made no sudden movements.
“I thought he’d be here.” Kate said, her shoulders sagging, staring at the wall with a face drenched in longing. “I thought he’d wait for me.”
Cooper lowered her weapon and stepped forward slowly, carefully. “Who is he, Kate? Maybe we can find him. Together.”
Kate glanced back over to Cooper. The stoic indifference had disappeared and was replaced with the chaotic stare from the basement. “I still don’t know what he sees in you. I don’t know why he picked you. I gav
e him everything he wanted. He loved me.” Her knuckles flashed tighter over the grip on the pistol. “He said so.”
Cooper continued her slow shuffle forward. “If he loves you, then he’ll come. But until he does, why don’t you come with me, Kate?” She reached out a hand, though she was still several feet from Kate’s position. “Let me help you.”
Kate looked at Cooper, smiling. “You have no idea what’s coming.” She pressed the pistol to her temple and squeezed the trigger.
Chapter 8
Cooper sat in the dirt with her back against the outside walls of the storage unit. She leaned her head back, and the sun highlighted dry, speckled blood that crusted over her nose and cheek from the altercation with Kate.
Hart followed the gurney that wheeled Kate’s body into the ambulance, her features dulled by the white sheet that covered the remains. Once it was loaded he walked over and knelt down to eye level. “You all right?”
Cooper looked at his shoes and noticed that they were far less expensive than the pair he wore the day before, and the crisp new shirt and pants had been replaced with clothes that were still presentable, but the colors were lightly faded, and the cuffs and collar were frayed at the edges. “I see you wore something you didn’t mind getting blood on today.”
Hart extended his hand, and Cooper grabbed it as he helped her off the ground. “Yeah, I figured I’d save the good stuff for church on Sunday.”
Cooper examined some of the bloodstains on her own shirt and nodded. “Probably a good idea. No reason to piss off the man upstairs any more than he already is.” She caught the last glimpse of the ambulance before it disappeared down the highway, and she made her way to the squad car.
Before she got behind the wheel, Hart walked over. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I’ll be fine.” Cooper shut the door and started the engine, rolling down her window as Hart walked back over to his car. “Hey!” Hart stopped and turned around. “Thanks for having my back, partner.”
