by Kelly Shade
Jane went after him to see the situation. He was right; the woman couldn’t stay on her feet. Shivering. Tears were rolling down. Her skin was white. Jane took a second to decide what to do with her. A minute later Blake went close to the woman, put her hand on her shoulders and made her walk to the bench in front of the apartment. Ryan went after them.
“Sit down and try to breathe,” Jane said calmly, and the woman did as she was asked. “Please, tell me your name.”
“Silvia” she said. “Silvia Martin.”
“Okay, Silvia.” Jane turned on music from her phone. She played the first piano melody she saw on YouTube. Ryan looked at her weirdly. She continued. “I want you to close your eyes, listen to the music, clear your head, take deep breaths.” Jane talked with an intoxicating calm voice, “Now exhale.” Silvia did it. “Imagine the way home. Did you walk?”
“Yes. I was on the night shift at work, and I always walk in the mornings. It’s refreshing,” Silvia said.
“Yeah, it is. Do you feel the breeze in your hair?”
Silvia nodded. “The wonderful smell of freshly cut grass. The streets are almost empty,” she said.
“Yes. I had a thirty-minute walk. It always fills me with energy, even after a twelve-hour shift.” Silvia was keeping her eyes tightly closed.
“Then you arrived at the block entrance,” Jane helped.
“I arrived at the block entrance around 7 a.m.” Silvia repeated. “I had a sickening feeling in my stomach. I thought it was because of the pizza I ate for dinner.”
“Then you opened the apartment door,” Jane prompted.
“I did . . . and I . . . I . . .” she started crying again, but her eyes were still shut.
“It’s okay; you are strong enough to go through this again,” Jane insisted.
“I saw Viki, all in blood on the floor. I tried to help her, but she was already gone. I called the police, and I stayed next to her until they arrived. I can’t believe someone did this to her!”
Silvia opened her eyes. She was way calmer than before. She took Jane’s hand and whispered, “Thank you!”
“Ms. Martin, can you tell me where you work?” Ryan thought this was the right moment for him to speak.
“Urgh. Yeah.” She wiped her nose “We both work at the Diamond Landscape Hotel. We are waitresses at the bar and diner on the first floor.”
“Did Victoria have a relationship with someone?” Hunt joined when he saw the witness was in better condition.
“No, she split up with Bobby two months ago.”
“Bobby who?” Ian popped.
“Bobby Pollard,” answered Silvia, still sniveling.
Ian wrote the name in his notebook and waved for Nick to go check the ex-boyfriend.
As Silvia didn’t know more, they let her go, advising her to stay with friends. Ryan, Jane and Conner got in the car with discouraged faces and drove to the station in silence.
“What’s with the piano?” Ryan was curious.
“It’s the most relaxing music. It works for most people,” Jane answered.
Once they were at the office, they were informed that the forensics were ready, and as expected there were no fingerprints except the two women’s. The officers who interviewed Victoria’s neighbors reported that no one had seen or heard anything during the night. No evidence of anyone entering her room or being there at all.
Ryan started checking the video cameras around the block, but nothing popped up. It was like this person was a ghost.
Jane was trying to decode the poem. She was hoping to see something valuable. No luck.
“Don’t beat yourself up. Maybe this guy is just a mentally ill psychopath. You’re overrating his intelligence.” Ryan wanted to calm her, but his advice had the opposite effect.
“He is a sick individual, okay. He is a narcissistic bastard who was bullied at school probably, or the girl he liked ridiculed him. He thinks he is a Rewera, do you know what that means?” Jane burst angrily.
“I . . . mmm . . . no.”
Ryan didn’t expect that. “Rewera means demon in Maori. I double checked. He thinks he is a Satanic-like creature, sent to this world with a mission. It means that he will kill more people, a lot more. If we don’t stop him!” Jane calmed herself down when she realized everyone was looking at her. “We don’t even know if this is his second victim or if there are many more outside of LA. So why don’t you check? I guess now you are all convinced he is a serial killer as I said before?” Jane added and hid behind the files.
“The Santa Monica colleagues are bringing this Bobby Pollard. They should be here soon,” Ian said after the awkward silence Jane caused.
Hunt went back to his office and said to the team to call him when the ex was in the department. Nick was staying on Jane’s desk, trying to help with the decoding.
“Nothing like that in the States. There are many stabbings, but no poems or anything else of his MO.” Ryan dared to speak again after he researched all the cold cases. That, of course, took him more than an hour.
“I’m sure he killed before. Maybe now he figured out what his MO should be,” Blake murmured.
The office door opened and a young policeman informed them in a very formal way that their suspect had arrived and been placed in interrogation room number two.
This made Jane smile for the first time since morning. She went to call Hunt and together they went to talk to Bobby Pollard. When Ryan saw them, he hurried to the observation room so he could listen.
“Hello, Mr. Pollard,” started Hunt and the man nodded.
“I’ll call you Bobby. Is it okay, Bobby?” Jane asked.
“I guess,” he answered.
“What can you tell me about Victoria Stoianovich?”
“What is her problem now?” Bobby lifted his eyebrows in surprise.
“Her problem is that she is dead,” Hunt said. His voice was cold.
“Damn! I did not expect that.” He hid his eyes with his hands and then hit the table with a fist.
“So you haven’t talked to her?” Hunt continued with a poker face.
“No, not after she dumped me because of this rich fella she hooked up with in the bar. He works,” Pollard explained annoyingly, but when he saw Hunt’s suspicious look he continued calmly, “Look, I know I look like white trash. I’ve got no good job, I’m nothing, no one, but I loved her, and I’m sorry I couldn’t provide enough.”
“Just for the record, where you were between 2, and 5 a.m. last night?”
“At a bar in Santa Monica. A friend opened his own bar and invited me. I’ll give you his number. He can provide video records from last night,” answered Bobby with sadness.
“Last question, Bobby.” Jane added “Do you know the rich guy’s name?”
“Yeah. How can I forget? He even introduced himself to me. Sucker.” Bobby got annoyed again. “Philip Rosa. Probably you will find him in Diamond Landscape . . . at the bar.”
Hunt and Jane let him go.
Ryan and Blake were sent to interview Victoria’s mystery lover. They arrived at the hotel, a really nice one, and headed to the bar. The bartender pointed out Philip Rosa and they went to his table.
He looked sophisticated and old school, sitting alone. A man, around forty-five years old, with a stylish suit and fancy manner. Jane and Ryan showed their badges, and he invited them to sit.
“How can I help you, officers?”
“Mr. Rosa, we are here because of Victoria Stoianovich. What was your relationship?” started Ryan.
“Agent Gray, right? Why are the police interested in my personal life?” Rosa turned his head aside to see if someone was listening.
“It may be hard to believe it, Mr. Rosa, but the world is not spinning around you. We are interested in Victoria’s personal life, not yours,” Jane said.
“Blake, was it? You may want to be more careful with your language. You know I’m a powerful man.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. Now tell me how long
you were cheating on your wife with Victoria,” Jane asked calmly.
Philip Rosa started to laugh with the fakest laughter that he could pull off.
“To cheat? Ms. Blake, I’m a businessman, not a teenager. My wife and I have an arrangement, an open marriage. That means . . .”
“We know what that means. Tell us more about Victoria.” Suddenly Ryan changed his normally polite tone.
“Victoria and I had a relationship based on our needs.” He answered like a real politician.
“She needed money; you needed sex,” Blake cleared the air.
“You can say that,” admitted Rosa.
“Where were you between 2 and 5 a.m. last night?” Ryan wanted to get away from this guy.
“Here, finalizing a deal. Around fifty people can confirm that,” he said arrogantly.
“What was the deal about?”
“I bought this hotel. We signed, and we celebrated all night,” Rosa said and stood up. “I believe that’s all. I would like to enjoy my lunch.”
Without a word, Jane and Ryan stood up, shook hands and went away.
“Should we check his alibi first, before we go back to the office?” Ryan turned to Jane.
“No, he is telling the truth.” she said.
They got in the car. Ryan looked pissed.
“What’s with you?” Jane said.
“I just. I hate that kind of man. Why the hell are you married when you want to sleep around? Don’t get it. This open marriage shit.”
“Well, we are free to make our own decisions. Some people feel comfortable in an open relationship. I think it is way worse to cheat and to lie,” Jane explained.
“So you are telling me, it is okay for you?” Ryan was surprised.
“I don’t see a problem; there is a difference.” Jane smiled.
“If you marry someday, would that will be okay for you?” Gray lifted his eyebrows.
Jane laughed and didn’t answer.
“Don’t you want to have a husband, family, kids?” Ryan was way too curious to stop asking.
“I want kids; but as for the husband, I’m not sure.” She laughed again, which made Ryan drop the matter.
After a short conversation with Hunt, Blake and Ryan realized they were back to square one on the case. Connor asked them to keep digging for any connection between the two victims. They checked schools, workplaces, daily habits, favorite restaurants, friends, grandparents and whatever they could think of, but nothing connected these two women. It was like they were living on different planets. The only thing they had in common was they looked alike. Both had dark hair and light eyes, thin and sporty body structures and facial similarities. It was sure that the killer was choosing them for their appearance. Nobody had any idea what to do next. They couldn’t just investigate every woman in California, or worst, in the States, who looked similar to the type and to offer her protection. It was impossible, and they knew it. Ryan checked all the records and cold cases but not one of all the cruel people in the system was as sick as this H. G. Rewera person. Who would tie up a woman, do her hair, nails, and makeup, write a poem on her back with a knife, then cut her veins, stab her through the heart and then untie her and leave her on the floor?
Jane was still staring at the poems even though she already knew every word perfectly. After some time, she angrily threw the crime scene photos on the desk and went to make herself a coffee. She was annoyed not only because they couldn’t figure out who the killer was but because everyone on the team was giving up. She couldn’t stand that there was a mystery which was not revealed. With a cup in her hand, Jane strolled through the station’s hallway, still murmuring the second poem. She went to the homicide office, and suddenly her eyes widened, and a smile appeared on her face.
“People, what was the name of the hotel where Victoria used to work?” she asked even though she knew the answer.
Everyone gathered around her desk.
“Diamond Landscape Hotel, why?” asked Ian Valdes with hope in his voice.
“Read here,” Jane pointed to the last paragraph of the first poem.
“Why? That’s from his first victim!” Nick Lee couldn’t understand.
“Just read it, okay?” Jane said impatiently.
“You are still Almaz but not that bright,” Ryan read.
“Well . . .” Jane looked at them waiting for them to get it.
“What?” Hunt appeared. “Blake, stop with the games; tell us what you have.”
“Almaz means . . .?” Jane tried to help them, but they looked at her questioningly.
“Almaz is Diamond, people!” Jane said with a little disappointment. “He told us the work place of his next victim. Still Almaz_not moving diamond. We thought it was “Nevertheless, she is a diamond” but its actual meaning was the clue.”
“I’m not saying it is nothing, but it is a long shot. It may be a coincidence, Blake,” Hunt said.
“It is not a coincidence, and you know it. He is far too smart. Don’t tell me you don’t have that feeling, too.” Jane was calm but determined to convince them of her theory.
“We are the police, the law! We can’t do our jobs on feelings or hunches!” Hunt hewed.
“And you would do better work if you listened to those hunches. Ninety percent of the time the first feeling you have is the answer,” Jane said coldly.
“Okay, then. Tell me what is the clue in the second poem then,” Hunt mocked her.
“I don’t know,” Jane said quietly, “Yet.”
“When you do, you are welcome to share.” Hunt finished the conversation and closed his office door.
The rest of the team agreed with Blake. They knew her instincts never had failed her. All four of them sat at the big table, trying to decode the second clue. Hours passed by, but there were no valuable suggestions. It went dark outside and Hunt, without saying a word to his team, stormed out. Probably he went home, they suggested, but no one dared to call him, so they left it like that.
A few more hours passed, and Ian was the next to head home. Jane, Ryan and Nick decided to order dinner and rest for a while.
“That’s delicious,” Nick said while biting from the big slice of pizza.
“Look, Jane, I have a theory,” Ryan started with fear in his voice.
“I’m listening.” Jane was also starving and grabbed her slice.
“Well, it is curious that this H. G. Rewera started killing people a month after you came to work with us.” “What are you suggesting?” Jane lisped with a full mouth. “Well . . . It may be a person who holds a grudge. Maybe it’s someone who wants to make you mad . . . someone who knows you will go crazy if you don’t solve the puzzle,” Ryan finished with fear of her reaction.
“It’s a theory,” Jane said thoughtfully and took a bite of her pizza. “But I don’t think it’s the right theory.” “Sounds possible if you ask me,” Nick said while reaching for his third slice .
“Yeah, but the people I robbed and put in jail aren’t brilliant. Besides, I almost always hypnotized them, and a psychopath can’t be hypnotized,” Jane explained.
“I have one name in mind.” Ryan wanted to prove his theory, “Dr. Gordon Cox.”
“The therapist. This was way back in time, Ryan.” Jane was genially surprised. “And he is in prison if I remember right, and he had no family.”
“Would it be okay if I check?” Ryan asked.
As Ryan was again typing on his laptop, Nick was almost asleep with his head on the table. The pizza was gone; empty beer bottles were lying between the stacks of files. It was almost 1 a.m. Nick decided he needed to go home and left Ryan and Jane alone in the office. Gray was still trying to find living family members of Dr. Cox. Jane cleared the table and went to make her favorite drink, coffee ,of course. She got one for Ryan, too.
“Well, did you find something?” She handed him the cup.
“No. Maybe I’m wrong. He has no children or wife. Parents dead, no siblings. No close friends. He just worked and, you k
now, killed people,” Ryan said. “How did you catch him? You just said there is no way of hypnotizing a psychopath.”
“I had to work with him for a long time. I made him believe I had dissociative identity disorder.”
“Which is?” Ryan didn’t get it.
“Multiple personality disorder. It means the person has two or more identities and . . .”
“Yeah, I know that. Sorry, I didn’t know it is called dissociative also,” Ryan interrupted her. “So why did you need to pretend you had it?”
“Because I had to convince him my other personality wanted to kill someone.”
“But that Carry Springs was just in two sessions with him.” Ryan was puzzled. He knew the name was the fake one Jane used to get to the doctor.
“He left just two sessions in the records because he wanted to make me his accomplice. The other visits I had were off the books. I pretended I had a memory loss from time to time. After a while, he started to share his secrets. He thought I was in a trance of course. Then he showed me one of the trophies he had from a victim. The one the police found in his home. I used the chance, and later I stole it from his secret room under the office and planted it in his vacation home. The next time we saw each other, he wanted to make me to kill a girl to prove I was ready. The night I was to do that, I went to his house and stole all the valuables. The next day we were to meet there. He went early and saw he was robbed, called and told me not to go and then called the police. They cuffed him, and that was it.”
“Wow! Do you think he knew it was you?” Ryan was astonished.
“Of course. I went to see him in jail. He was pissed of course, but I had to show him he wasn’t the smartest person on Earth.” Jane smiled.
