Fury From Hell

by Rochelle Campbell

  “Oh, so you’re not even speaking now?” smirked Feinster, “Thought we got past that point.”

  “Betty, you know by now that I like to concentrate when I’m playing. It’s part of my system.”

  “Some system! You buy scratch-off tickets like all the schmoos in the world, and you lose just like all the schmoos in the world. Great system.”

  Her friend, and sometimes partner, plopped down next to Jennifer kicking up her police issue thick-soled black shoes onto the scarred wooden table. She placed her booted feet near Jennifer’s scratching hand.

  Jennifer paused, her rapid movement and looked over at Betty with a look of incredulity. A smile was spreading ever so slowly across her slim mousy face; a face that hadn’t seen a drop of make-up in years. With her nondescript black individual braids pulled back in a tight bun, Jennifer looked like a young schoolmarm. Her small button nose, the cutest feature in her countenance, looked out of place among the other unremarkable features. Her cheeks were not well-defined and her eyes were neither expressive, nor memorable. Her eyes were roundish — not quite owlish — normal dark brown eyes however they boasted a few flecks of lighter brown from some long-forgotten Anglo-Saxon ancestor.

  The lighter brown flecks in her eyes brightened her whole countenance especially when she was animated — which was rare. But now, her eyes were lit up as if fired by some internal power source. Jennifer’s eyes glowed, a rich dark tawny shade, which made one ignore the rest of her. Her boyishly slim physique hardly made any bumps in her uniform especially not over her 32A cup bra. What she did have going for her were her tight abs, slim waist long, shapely legs that were currently sheathed in the heavy dark blue NYPD issued uniform pants and her pore-free skin the color of ground cocoa.

  Betty pulled her feet down and leaned forward, her own smile forming as she shoved a few stray dark blonde wisps out of her green eyes.

  “What? Did you finally win something?”

  With flourish, Jennifer scratched one long swipe to reveal the bar code. Betty grunted and put her elbow on the table and pressed her fist against her cheek.

  “I know this part of your system — you won something. From your stupid grin, you won a lot. How much?”

  “Fifteen hundred! Bottom game,” Jennifer held it up in front of Betty’s face. “So what do ‘ya think of my system now?”

  “It still sucks but today, you got lucky. How long have I known you now?”

  “Why do you keep forgetting? Six years,” grumbled Jennifer re-pocketing her winning ticket.

  “Right, right. So, in all those years this is the biggest win you’ve told me about. So, what does that make your profit? Hmm...that’s $250 per year. Shall we divide that by the number of days per year, or shall I be nice and do it by month? Be nice? Okay, that’s $20.83 per month for every month I’ve known you!”

  Before Jennifer could retort, her radio squawked. “Detective Holden, report to State and Hoyt Streets. Female victim, DOA.”

  “Holden, this is your golden day. First, the lotto win of $20 bucks a day for the last six years and now your very first solo murder case,” smirking Betty pushed herself up with a sigh.

  “Solo?!”

  “Such a shame I’m off the clock now and can’t help you…”

  “You evil little —”

  “Now, now. Don’t keep your newest client waiting,” Betty said in a saccharine-filled sotto vocce.

  Barely suppressing a growl, Jennifer got to her feet making her chair fall backwards in the process. She stalked out of the break room without glancing back at Betty. Laughter trailed after Jennifer as she smashed on her brimmed hat and passed her locker to pick up her crime scene kit. On her way out of the precinct Jennifer stopped at the Command Desk.

  “Sargeant?”

  “Yeah, Holden?”

  “Am I being assigned a partner for the Hoyt and State Street call?”

  The large cop, a veteran of twenty years guffawed.

  “Holden, you’ve been on the force long enough to know that on Halloween no self-respecting murder cop is on duty. You’ve got this one. If you need backup for a stiff after all your years on the beat,” he paused as he smiled mirthlessly, “maybe you need to change jobs and work in a bodega. Then, you wouldn’t have to go too far to get your lotto fix every day.”

  “Yeah, well at least I believe in something, Sarge.”

  “You? Believe? In what? You’re a friggin’ atheist — Holy Holden. That’s why you pull Halloween each and every God-damned year. That, plus the fact you ain’t got kids.”

  Jennifer lowered her head and glared at him through her lashes but held her tongue as she always did. She stiffened her 5’2” frame and slid on a poker face as she turned on her heel. She marched out of the precinct with her back ramrod straight as he laughed raucously at her…as he always did.

  ***

  November 1st, 12:09 A.M.

  Police Officer Saks heard the distinctly feminine scream that chilled his blood. Without thought, he ran in the direction of the woman’s distress knocking a rather large man to the ground in his haste not noticing the streaks of blood on the felled man’s face and hands.

  “Get outta my way, man! Police emergency!”

  Saks got to the construction site and knew this was where the sound had emanated from. He found the makeshift hole in the wire mesh fence ducked through and ran towards the darkest part of the site. When he got there the smell brought him to the lifeless woman’s body. He pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on. His mouth dropped open as his bile surged upwards but he tamped it down and pulled out his radio.

  “We’ve got a while female DOA at the construction site at Hoyt and Schermerhorn. Request immediate back-up.”

  “Ten-Four. First on scene?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Name?”

  “P.O. Saks, 84th precinct.”

  “Copy that. Help’s on the way.”

  “Ten-Four, out.”

  The Fury watched as Officer Saks walked around the body. The demon noticed he avoided any contact with the dead woman’s body nor did he disturb anything nearby. With a shudder, the Fury wrinkled its reptilian face as it tried not to breathe in the officer’s male scent. The cloying testosterone-filled air bespoke the great amount of energy the demon would have to acquire and utilize just get the male to do its bidding.

  With an inaudible sigh, the demon dismissed the male as a potential host. Gnashing its teeth, the Fury settled back in to await another, more suitable, host.

  November 1st, 12:42 A.M.

  With butterflies stomping around in her belly, Jennifer reached the crime scene in under twelve minutes. The brisk walk made her perspire even though it was a cool night. There were several officers milling about. Jennifer walked under the police barricade and headed towards the back of the site where the bulk of cops congregated.

  She took a deep breath and said to the nearest officer, “I’m Detective Holden and I’ve been assigned this case. Who was first on scene? And what do you know?”

  The false bravado seemed to ring true to the officers in the vicinity and they jerked to attention mumbling the name Saks.

  Holden was feeling pretty good until they turned, looked around and saw her.

  “Oh…Holy Holden. It’s just you,” said Saks, a rookie barely a year out of cadet school.

  Jennifer cringed inwardly at the moniker but kept her poker face intact. Her already fraying nerves unraveling just a hair more.

  “I was first on-scene. I heard a blood-curdling scream and came running down the block — I was on Hoyt but closer to Schermerhorn. By the time I got here the perp was gone and the girl — dead and totally jacked up. I mean unrecognizable. Her ID says she’s Kyma Barnes and she was a looker. Perp played with her for quite a while before he did her in. She’s a bloody mess!”

  While he was speaking, Jennifer drifted closer to the body. Just as he finished, she caught the first glimpse of the victim. Jennifer’s hand immediately went to her mout
h. Her stomach heaved.

  “Six years on the job and she’s like a damned rookie. Watch it boys, the Detective in Charge is gonna to blow,” said Saks.

  Shaking her head from side to side, Jennifer was oblivious to the comment as she tried to get away from the body so she wouldn’t defile the remains any further. Images flickered shutter-like in front of her eyes. Her uncle ripping her orange coat with the pumpkin buttons. Him, above with her knees spread wide. Blinking it all back but losing badly, Jennifer tried to swerve around the body and tripped on the blue tarp flapping in the slight breeze. She fell just above the victim’s head bashing the side of her own face. Jennifer was near enough that the victim’s bloody hand was splattered with vomit.

  Behind her she could hear the sound of laughter, back slapping and a loud guffaw. Jennifer blinked and attempted to wipe the filth out of her eyes but an impossible image arrested her gaze — two eyes dripping with blood ensconced in a reptilian female-looking face.

  The hallucination was accompanied by a feeling of prickly heat all over her body effectively chasing away her childhood demons. A loud shriek pierced her ears forcing Jennifer to cover them and shut her eyes. Then, just as suddenly, the sensation and sound stopped simultaneously. Jennifer cautiously opened her eyes. All she saw in front of her was the claw-like hand of her victim, Kyma Barnes.

  Fully ensconced in the detective, the Fury pushed up the image of the little gun under the tarp. Jennifer moved her eyes and saw a denser blackness further under the tarp. She moved her hand and grasped the gun.

  >> Keep it…<<

  Jennifer’s mind accepted the command without question. Still partially underneath the tarp, Jennifer rolled over onto her knees with her back towards the still laughing cops and she pocketed the gun. The Fury wiped away all of her conscious mind’s recollection of doing so.

  “You gonna stay under there all night, Holden? Even if you don’t have a life, the rest of us do!”

  “Come on, Saks, give her a break. This is a rough one. The victim was beaten, raped and sodomized. I had to step away for a minute to get my stomach under control.”

  Detective Yearwood bent down and held out a clean tissue to Jennifer. She took it gratefully and began wiping her face from a sitting position not trusting herself to stand just yet.

  She pushed herself up and looked down at Kyma’s body and saw it as if for the first time in sharp detail. She went and stood by the victim’s feet and angled her head to take in what she saw. Grabbing her notebook she noted the angle of the victim’s legs — both still tented but the right one bent outward more than the left.

  He’s probably a righty; he used his left knee to separate her legs and probably leaned on his left arm to balance.

  She leaned over and sure enough found indentations in the hard-packed earth.

  “Hey, did anybody take a cast of the indentations on her right side? We may get lucky and get a print out of that.”

  “Holden, of course I did that. I’m not a rookie anymore,” Saks said in a pained voice.

  Still observing, Holden looked at Kyma’s arms and face. Frozen on Barnes’ ravaged face Jennifer swore she saw satisfaction. She noted the observation down and continued her investigation. Squatting down near the bloodied hand over the cement, she inspected it. There was a lot of blood. Most of it probably the victim’s but Jennifer’s gut told her some of the perp’s blood was there, too. The prickly heat sensation ran up her spine and her eyes were drawn to the victim’s breasts. They looked mangled. Getting really close, Jennifer pulled out her penlight and directed it around the black and blue aureole.

  “Saks, did you get a saliva sample from her left breast?”

  “A what? Are you crazy? He was just twisting and pulling at her and don’t you see the knife marks all over her stomach?”

  “Yeah, I do but you didn’t see the minute teeth marks on her breast. What? Are you afraid if you look at her breasts too long you’ll get a woody?”

  The other cops smirked and a few soft jeers could be heard. Still very close to Jennifer, Yearwood said, “Good one, Holden. Get ‘em where it hurts.”

  “Get over here and do your job, Saks. Maybe with real police work we can actually catch the perp you let get away,” Jennifer snapped off her light and stood up. She felt strong and secure in herself which was a generally unheard of feeling for her. Jennifer shook it off and looked down at Kyma Barnes’ remains.

  “Nasty way to die.”

  “It is,” Yearwood responded.

  “I’m going to get this bastard,” Jennifer said with a ferocity that made the hair on the back of Yearwood’s neck rise. He looked at her. Something about her was…off.

  “Holden, you okay tonight? You seem…different.”

  “Different? Different how? I’m not the one who likes reading the obituaries every damned day,” she said, her eyes slitting dangerously.

  Yearwood took an imperceptible step back and decided to ignore the slight.

  “Dunno. You seem really on top of your game tonight — I’m liking it…a lot.”

  Appeased, Jennifer smiled. Yet, to Yearwood, her smile had a feral quality to it but he decided to keep that to himself. In a lightning fast move, Jennifer gripped his hand and shook it. It was a firm, manly, shake.

  “Thanks, Yearwood. You don’t know how much I appreciate your observation.”

  He gazed down into her eyes and noticed for the umpteenth time that her eyes had lighter brown flecks in them. He shoved down his feelings again but felt a slight surge of energy and hope. His hand was still wrapped around hers and he took a deep breath consciously releasing the soft hand that suddenly seemed so extraordinarily strong.

  “Looks like you’ve got this case well underway, Holden. I’ll let you have at it.”

  He stepped back trying to slow his racing heart and hide the growing excitement in his nether region. He nodded at her and the other officers and walked off briskly heading towards the wire fence.

  Jennifer turned back to the scene and looked for more clues that would help her find the man who did this. While working, it came to her that she had finally found an overriding desire to do her job. Too stunned to deal with the revelation, she put it on the back burner to mull over later.

  Deep inside Jennifer’s psyche, the Fury smiled at Jennifer’s realization. It was no revelation; it was merely the subtle prodding of the demon. The Fury hoped this host was ready for what more was to come.

  ***

  November 1st, 10:30 A.M.

  Later that morning, Jennifer walked into her apartment at half-past ten. Her legs ached and her back was on fire from combing every inch of the construction site for clues. There were no leads other than the victim herself. Walking through the living room and into her dining room, Jennifer unloaded her pockets. She was startled when her fingers brushed against the blunt-nosed metallic cylinder that could only be a gun — and it wasn’t one of her eight guns from the feel of it.

  Realization dawned and the color drained from her face. She must have taken it from the crime scene. She had somehow confiscated evidence! How she did it, yet had no recollection of it, she had no clue but returning it would be a bad idea. It would prove to the guys how incompetent she really was. For some inexplicable reason, Jennifer felt driven to work on this case and solve it. In her six years with the NYPD, this was the first time in her career that she felt galvanized. She wasn’t going to let anything stop her from finding Kyma Barnes’ killer! Resolved, Jennifer pulled the gun out of her pocket and inspected it. It was a Smith & Wesson Bodyguard 380 pistol. It was relatively new on the market and a standard issue for mall cops and security guards.

  What a great little gun for those two-bit wanna-be cops…

  Jennifer cleaned the gun with the chamois cloth from her cleaning kit. She removed the magazine and put it in the small metal safe where she stored all of her ammo. Jennifer knew that all remnants of the killer’s prints would have been lost by now since she had muddied the handle with her print
s and vomit. With a resigned shrug, she decided to add the gun to her collection which was housed in a locked wooden cabinet deep in the back of her semi walk-in closet. Satisfied all was secure, she went to shower away the stress of the long night.

  The Fury beamed; its second command had been taken and acted upon successfully.

  ***

  The first few days passed by in a flurry of activity for Jennifer. Breaking the news to Kyma Barnes’ family the following morning was nothing short of heart-wrenching for Holden. She remembered the way she had turned off and hadn’t fully engaged herself in her demanding job; sometimes, it was just too intense.

  Jennifer pulled up to the curb by the victim’s parents’ home and sat for a full 10 minutes with the car running before shutting off the engine. As she walked up to the neat modern brick multi-family building with snazzy chrome and glass balconies for each unit she hoped Kyma’s mother would choose not to use her balcony in an illicit way. She rang Mrs. Barnes’ buzzer and waited two heartbeats.

  “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Barnes? My name is Detective Holden with the NYPD. Can I come up and speak to you?

  “Ah…what is this about?”

  “Mrs. Barnes, I’d rather speak to you in person. If you don’t want me coming up, can you please come down to speak with me? I won’t take up too much of your time.”

  After a pregnant pause, Jennifer heard the door click open. She pushed the bronzed- edged chrome door with its block glass diamond shaped cutouts open and headed for the elevators. In no time at all, she was standing in front of 5B. Before she could press the buzzer, the door opened. A young man with wide shoulders but a wiry thin physique stood before her with pinched lips.

  “Detective Holden, I presume?”

  Jennifer nodded. “And you are?”

  “Gerald Palmer. Won’t you come in?”

  He backed up and allowed Jennifer to enter. She scanned the room and noticed the well-appointed furniture that was most definitely not from IKEA. The clean lines were European but of a finer quality than the large franchise she frequented. There were no signs that Mrs. Barnes’ furniture had been put together with a hammer, nails and a few random pieces of box tape. A worried looking woman in her fifties came quickly into view interrupting Jennifer’s thoughts.