Depraved Difference (A Detective Shakespeare Mystery, Book #1)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  He raced toward the entrance as the screen door flung open. Aynslee burst through, her head turned back into the darkness, and ran straight into him. Shakespeare caught her in his arms and steadied her. Her head whipped around and she made eye contact with him, the look of fear, of pleading desperation, of pure terror, scared even him.

  She wrenched herself from his grasp and pointed toward the entrance. “Help me! He's crazy! He's trying to kill me!” She tripped over an edging strip lining the walkway, and fell onto the grass. Shakespeare stepped forward to help her but she scrambled backward on her hands and feet. “He’s coming!” He heard the pounding of feet from inside the house. Spinning, he drew his weapon and pointed it into the darkness of the entrance, a barely discernible shadow inside rushing toward him, burst from the entranceway.

  Shakespeare breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Eldridge come to a halt on the porch, his own weapon drawn. “Jesus Christ, kid, you scared the shit outta me!” Shakespeare lowered his weapon and Eldridge did the same. “Did you see him?”

  Eldridge shook his head but before he could say anything, Aynslee yelled, “No! He's the one trying to kill me!”

  Shakespeare turned toward her, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She pointed at Eldridge. “Look out!”

  Shakespeare spun around and saw Eldridge’s weapon pointing directly at him. Shakespeare immediately raised his own weapon, and, stepping sideways, positioned himself between his partner and Aynslee.

  “Get behind me!” he yelled to Aynslee. Raising his left hand, he tried to calm Eldridge. “Listen, kid, lower your weapon, please.”

  “Don't get in my way, Justin.” Eldridge slowly walked toward Aynslee as Shakespeare stepped backward, keeping himself between them. With his left hand, he motioned behind his back for Aynslee to move.

  “Listen, kid, we can work this out, nobody has to get hurt.” Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his heart raced as he tried to grasp what was going on. The kid is the killer? None of it made sense. He knew Jeremiah was the killer, there was no doubting that. What the fuck is going on? He didn't want to shoot his partner, but at this exact moment, he couldn’t see any other way out of this. “Just calm down and give me the gun.”

  “I won't let you take her away from me.”

  Eldridge's eyes shifted their focus from Aynslee to Shakespeare. Shakespeare paled as the muscles in Eldridge’s face relaxed, a look of calm sweeping across his features, as if an important decision had been made. Shakespeare had seen the look enough in the past to know what was about to happen.

  He squeezed the trigger.

  Aynslee screamed as Eldridge stumbled backward, the bullet shattering his right shoulder. He grabbed the wound with his left hand and stared at Shakespeare, wide-eyed with surprise. “Why? Why are you trying to stop me from being happy?” He grimaced and took another step toward Aynslee. “Please, Sarah, you know I could never hurt you.” Shakespeare reached back and pulled Aynslee to her feet, careful to keep himself between her and Eldridge.

  “Please, Hayden, drop the gun, please,” she pleaded.

  “Don’t I deserve to be happy?”

  “Of course you do,” said Aynslee. “We all do.”

  Shakespeare nodded. “We all do, kid, we all deserve to be happy.” This isn’t going to work.

  “We were happy once, you and I, don’t you remember.”

  “Yes, of course I remember.”

  Eldridge dropped his chin onto his chest and whispered, “It was the last time I was ever happy.” He raised his head and looked at Shakespeare. “Until I finally found her again.” He leaned back, trying to raise his weapon in his now nearly useless arm, then, with his good hand, grasped his arm and lifted it. “And now you want to take her away from me again.”

  “Please, Hayden, don't make me do this!” pleaded Shakespeare as Eldridge slowly slid his good hand toward the gun to squeeze the trigger. God forgive me. Shakespeare fired again, this time striking Eldridge square in the chest, the force of the impact knocking him off his feet, his shoulders, arms and neck rolling forward as his torso flew backward toward the porch. His body slammed onto the steps, his arms flailing to his sides, the hand holding the gun releasing its grip as it smacked the concrete edge of the top step, sending it skidding to the far side of the porch, and out of reach.

  Aynslee gasped, covering her mouth in horror as she saw the man who, only hours before, she had been falling for, gasping for breath as blood spread across his crisp white shirt. Hidden behind Shakespeare, who was now calling for an ambulance, she looked Hayden in the eyes, the eyes that had never stopped looking at her. He raised his left hand and motioned to her.

  “Please,” he whispered, his eyes begged her forward, and she was shocked to find herself stepping around the man who had just saved her, and toward the man who had tried to kill her. The expression on Hayden’s face, so pitiful she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, urged her on. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “Miss Kai.”

  She turned slightly toward her savior, but didn’t take her eyes off Hayden. “Yes?”

  “I’m Detective Shakespeare. I need you to stay here. I’ll be back in a few seconds, I just need to get the street number for the ambulance.”

  She nodded as he headed down the path toward the hedge, her feet continuing to carry her slowly toward Hayden who smiled as she neared. Kneeling down, she took his outstretched hand in both of hers and held it gently to her chest. She felt a slight squeeze as he used the last of his strength to hold on, his eyes, never leaving hers, gradually closing as he bled out. “I love you, Sarah,” he sighed, his hand releasing its slight grip as the last of his life drained from his body.

  Aynslee gripped his hand tighter, sobbing, the conflicting emotions overwhelming. A man who she thought she could love turned out to be a kidnapper, and the serial killer who only hours before had tried to kill her, had died trying to save her. Her mind didn't know who to feel sorry for. She didn't even know if she should feel sorry for anyone. She just knew, at this very moment, she was tired of death. She gently placed Hayden’s hand on his chest, and rose.

  Shakespeare finished his call and returned to find Aynslee standing over Eldridge’s body.

  “He's gone,” she whispered.

  He leaned down and checked his partner’s pulse. Nothing. He sighed, lowering his head and making the sign of the cross. In all his years he had never killed anyone, and he had never imagined it would be a fellow officer, let alone his partner.

  Jeremiah!

  He jumped to his feet and looked around, drawing his weapon. “Jeremiah escaped the trap Eldridge set for him at your apartment. We should get you out of here immediately.”

  Aynslee, still staring at the smile on Eldridge’s face, shook her head. “No, he's inside. He died trying to save me.”

  “What?” Shakespeare was sure everyone was off their rocker tonight. Her would be killer died trying to save her from her would be killer? “Are you sure?”

  “Follow me.” Aynslee led Shakespeare into the house and down a hallway. They rounded a corner and entered a kitchen. What Shakespeare saw brought him to a halt, his mouth agape.

  “What the hell is this?” Slowly he approached the hole in the floor and peered over the side. About four feet below, there was a platform suspended by chains, and another half dozen feet below that, the dirt floor of a basement. Aynslee reached out and grabbed the chain, pulling on it. Shakespeare watched in amazement as the platform began to rise.

  A groan from below the platform caused Shakespeare to step back, pointing his still drawn weapon at the hole.

  “He's alive!”

  Before Shakespeare could stop her, Aynslee jumped on the platform and swung herself to the floor below.

  “Jesus Christ!” Rushing to the hole’s edge, he eyed the swaying platform. No way I’m jumping on that. Clutching the chain, he raised it a couple of feet, stepped down, and lowered the platform with both hands until he
could duck down enough to see what was going on. He found Aynslee cradling Jeremiah's head in her lap, her hand pressed against a large bloodstain on his shoulder. What the hell happened here? Bewildered, Shakespeare tried to fathom what could make a killer's intended victim care for him so quickly. Pulling on the chain, he lowered the platform until about two feet off the floor, and jumped down with a grunt, immediately regretting it as he felt a twinge in his ankle. “Is he okay?”

  “Call an ambulance, quick!” cried Aynslee.

  Jeremiah looked up at her and smiled. “Let me die. I don't deserve to live.”

  Tears filled Aynslee's eyes. “There's been enough dying,” she whispered.

  Above them shouts followed by the pounding of feet echoed through the house as backup arrived. “Down here!” yelled Shakespeare. The floor creaked overhead then two faces he wasn’t expecting peered over the edge, weapons drawn. “What the hell are you two doing here?”

  Trace and Vinny holstered their weapons, their expressions revealing they were just as shocked at seeing him as he was of seeing them. Vinny spoke first. “Amber figured out Hayden might have been involved in a missing persons case she was working on, so she called me rather than get the department involved, just in case she was wrong.”

  “Looks like I wasn’t.”

  “Fine, fine, we'll talk about that later.”

  More people running the length of the house sent Vinny and Trace spinning, reaching for their weapons. Shakespeare, pretty sure everyone he had to worry about was either shot or dead, turned his attention to Jeremiah.

  “How is he?”

  “He’s lost a lot of blood,” replied Aynslee. “At least I think he has. I just don’t know.”

  Yelling upstairs had settled down after badges were shown to the newly arriving uniforms, who now joined Trace and Vinny at the edge. Shakespeare looked up at them. “I've got a wounded man down here, is that bus here yet?”

  “It's outside, just waiting for us to give the all clear,” replied one officer.

  “Well give it, dammit!”

  The officer turned red as he grabbed his radio and stepped out of sight. Within seconds two paramedics were staring over the edge.

  “What the fuck is this?” asked one of them.

  “Never mind, just get your asses down here!”

  The first one threw his bag down to Shakespeare, leaned forward and gripped the chain, shimmying down far enough until he could safely jump to the platform below. His partner followed suit and they were quickly attending to Jeremiah.

  “Is he going to be okay?” asked Aynslee, now standing against the wall, her clenched fist gently tapping her grimacing teeth.

  “He's lost a lot of blood, but he's stable. He should make it.”

  Aynslee breathed a sigh of relief as the paramedics carefully moved Jeremiah to the platform. “I’ll go first,” said the lead paramedic. “Not sure how much weight this thing can handle.” He looked up at the officers above. “Ok, bring us up, slow and steady. I don’t want him falling off this thing.” The officers above pulled on the chain, raising the platform inch by inch until if finally reached the top, sealing Shakespeare, Aynslee and the other paramedic inside.

  Shakespeare looked around. “What the hell kind of place is this?”

  The paramedic pointed toward several scratches in the walls. “Looks like he kept somebody down here.”

  Aynslee shivered, unable to look. “I need to get out of here.”

  The chain above rattled again and the platform began to lower, ending the speculation. As soon as it was low enough, the second paramedic jumped up and swung himself onto the platform then the kitchen floor. The officers finished lowering the platform to the floor and waited for Shakespeare and Aynslee to step on, then pulled them up. As they neared floor level, they saw the two paramedics pushing Jeremiah out the door on a stretcher. A few more pulls and they were able to step safely into the kitchen. Aynslee sat hunched over in a kitchen chair, elbows on her knees as she tried to pull the stress out through her hair.

  “What the hell happened here?” asked Trace.

  “Yeah, who shot Hayden?” asked Vinny. “Was it that Jeremiah kid?”

  Shakespeare shook his head. “No, it was me.”

  Both their jaws dropped. “Are you shittin’ me?” asked Vinny.

  “No.” Shakespeare looked at Aynslee. “Listen, place the kid under arrest, I’ll fill you in later.” Trace opened her mouth to speak when Shakespeare cut her off, motioning with his eyes at Aynslee. “Let’s have some breathing room for a few minutes, okay?” They both nodded and left the kitchen. Shakespeare sat across from Aynslee. “Do you feel up to telling me what happened here tonight?”

  Aynslee nodded. “Hayden, I mean Detective Eldridge, had me hide in the back of his car to trick Jeremiah into thinking I was at my apartment, then brought me here. He drugged me and when I woke up I was in the basement and Jeremiah was there with me. We talked and in the end he said he was sorry for what he had done and then he helped me escape by attacking Hayden so I could climb out. I heard two shots then that's when you arrived.”

  Shakespeare shook his head through her entire story. “I can't believe Hayden would do such a thing. He kept calling you Sarah. Any idea who that is?”

  “Jeremiah said it was some long lost love, or something like that. I don’t really know.”

  “Ok, I’ll let you rest for now, we can do this later.” He stood as Vinny entered the room. Shakespeare eyed him warily.

  “Oh, hi, Detective,” said Vinny awkwardly, looking around the room and finally, after looking everywhere else, making eye contact. “Listen, Justin. I know we've had our differences, but I'm really sorry about your partner. He was a great guy.”

  Shakespeare nodded. “Yeah, he was. No matter what happened here tonight, he was a great cop.”

  “The best,” agreed Vinny, joining Shakespeare at the platform edge. “What have we got here?”

  “Not sure, but I saw a mattress down there, so I'm guessing he intended for Miss Kai to stay awhile.”

  “I'll check it out.” Vinny lowered the platform as Aynslee stood.

  “I need some fresh air.”

  Shakespeare nodded. “Me too.” He unlocked the patio door and held it open. “I'd recommend the back yard, the front is probably a madhouse.” Aynslee stepped out onto a stone patio with Shakespeare joining her. Looking around them, Shakespeare whistled. “He was one hell of a gardener, apparently.” Before them lay a beautifully manicured lawn surrounded by a lower, eight-foot hedge, with half a dozen rectangular flower beds laid out across the back of the yard, each with an assortment of flowers, carefully arranged and weeded, except for the flowerbed farthest to the right, which, though freshly tilled, had no flowers.

  “He was.”

  “Detective!” Shakespeare turned at the sound of Vinny's voice. “You gotta see this!” They both walked back into the kitchen as Vinny pulled himself from the basement. “Look at this!” He held out a plastic bag containing dirt.

  “What's this?” Shakespeare took the bag and held it up to the light.

  Aynslee gasped and pointed. “Look at that!”

  Shakespeare gulped. “It's a fingernail.” Aynslee ran to the sink and heaved.

  “Yeah, there's a lot of evidence someone stayed down there long-term. I found that embedded in the wall, as if they were scratching at it.” Shakespeare was about to comment on the revelation when he suddenly turned on his heel and rushed out to the backyard. Vinny and Aynslee followed him and watched as he grabbed a shovel and began to dig furiously at the flowerless flowerbed.

  “Oh shit,” whispered Vinny. Picking up a nearby hoe, he ran over and together they dug as fast as they could.

  “Wait!” yelled Shakespeare as his shovel hit something. They both got on their knees and, reaching in, began digging with their hands. It was Vinny who found her first, a pair of hands, taped together, that appeared to be held up, fingers splayed as if trying to stop the dirt piling on top
of her. Shakespeare uncovered her face, the resemblance to Aynslee immediately evident. Sitting back on the grass sweating, he looked at Aynslee. “It appears you were damned lucky, Miss Kai.”

  “She hasn't been in here long, maybe a day or two.” Vinny continued to scoop out the dirt surrounding her as Shakespeare caught his breath.

  Trace rounded the house and immediately gasped at what she saw. “That's Chelsie Birmingham, my missing person!”

  Shakespeare ignored her. “You don't think—” Vinny stopped digging and followed Shakespeare's gaze. In a neat row, five manicured flowerbeds, each about six feet by three feet, lay in front of them.

  “Oh my god!” whispered Vinny. “Hayden, what have you done?”

  Aynslee fainted.

  When she awoke she saw Shakespeare leaning over her as two paramedics ran around the side of the house. Shakespeare stepped back to give them room to work. “She was drugged earlier, don't know with what.”

  One paramedic nodded. “We should take her in just to be safe. They can run some tests there and see if they need to flush her system.” He helped Aynslee to her feet. “Do you think you can walk to the ambulance or do you want us to get a stretcher?”

  Aynslee shook her head. “No, I think I'll be okay, just a little dizzy that's all.” The two paramedics supported her as they walked slowly toward the ambulance.

  Shakespeare turned to Vinny. “I know you were close to Hayden, but we've got to do this by the book, no matter how we feel. Process this scene like you would any other.”

  “Don't tell me my job, Detective,” snapped Vinny. Shakespeare turned to walk away when he heard Vinny clear his throat. “Listen, I'm sorry, Justin. I'm just upset, I considered Hayden my friend and tonight I discovered he was a completely different person than I ever thought imaginable.”