Blood, a Bullet, and a True Sinner

by Kelly Shade

  Blake was at the crime scene first. She had the nasty habit of driving way above the speed limit when she was angry.

  The neighborhood seemed quiet. Only the crying man in front of the house, where the murder had been committed, showed something wasn’t right. Jane sat in the car and waited for the others. She was too frustrated to deal with a crying husband. Minutes later Ian and Nick showed up, and Blake joined them.

  “Are you from the police?” asked the man.

  “Yes, sir, we are,” Nick Lee answered politely. “We need to take a look at the crime scene now, but then we have to ask you few questions.”

  The man nodded.

  Jane went in and headed straight to the dead body. A woman was lying face down on the floor. It was undoubtedly the serial killer. She was exactly the type he was after. Beautiful, dark-haired woman, around thirty years old. She had three braids in her hair, makeup and nail polish. The veins on her hands were cut. Jane carefully lifted her shirt to see the stab wound and the poem written with a knife while the victim was still alive. Ryan, Nick and Ian were standing behind her.

  “What is it this time?” asked Lee.

  “I feel thirsty, I want more,

  I want you to kneel down and crawl,

  Crawl and beg on all four . . .

  Drained, rebuild, I feel the shake

  Three-days-time is all it takes.

  H.G. Rewera!”

  Jane put the victim’s shirt back down.

  “Weird as always. What the hell could that mean?” Ian asked nervously. “I don’t know.” Jane turned to them with a confused expression. She took the wallet out of the victim’s purse and looked at the ID. “Sasha Dolton, thirty-two years old.”

  “The CSU is on the way.” Nick hung up the phone.

  “Let’s talk to the boyfriend,” Jane said.

  “Isn’t he the husband?” asked Ryan.

  “No wedding ring. Learn to observe, Gray!” nagged Jane.

  Jane glanced at him angrily and went out. She heard whistling behind her back. Ian and Nick were teasing Ryan. They still didn’t know what this was about, but they chose to believe it was a relationship issue.

  “I can see you don’t want to go inside. It’s understandable. Let’s have a walk,” Jane said softly to the man who was still crying in front of the house. “What is your name?”

  “I’m Mat Tillman,” he said.

  “Okay, Mat, tell me, when did you find Sasha?” They sauntered around the house.

  “I came back in the morning after a night shift. I walked in and saw her. It was around eight,” he stuttered.

  “Where do you work?” asked Jane.

  “At a can factory.”

  “Why do you feel guilty, Mat?” Jane was playing with a leaf she just picked off of a tree.

  “Of course, I feel guilty. I wasn’t there for her!” Mat raised his voice.

  “No, Mat, it is not that.” Jane was talking quietly. “What will your boss tell me if I ask him about your shift last night?”

  “Okay, okay! I was with a girl. I work the night shift, but one of my colleagues wanted to change so he could go to his daughter’s play the next day. I agreed, but I didn’t tell Sasha. But you have to believe me. I didn’t kill her!” The man wasn’t sad and whining but worried about his own life.

  “I know you didn’t. I’m not telling my colleagues about your little affair, but now I want you to be honest with me. Tell me about Sasha. Where did she work? Parents? Friends? Enemies . . . everything you can think of, okay?” Jane turned left so they can go away from the team who were standing in front, talking to the crime scene unit.

  “Yes, I’ll tell you everything!” Mat said nervously. “Sasha was an actress. Recently she had her first big role. She spent the last few months in Hollywood. She played in the TV show "Cloudy Skies." It was about a model’s rough way up in the fashion world. She played the leading role.”

  “So she wasn’t at home much?” Jane interrupted.

  “Yeah. Just a few days in the month.” Mat looked down. The guilt was written on his face. “You have to understand, she changed. I was feeling alone.”

  “I’m not here to judge, just to get the facts straight. Why weren’t you married? I saw pictures in the house of you two which were at least five years old.” Jane continued to walk around.

  “Ten years together. We didn’t have the money for a wedding. I was jumping from one job to another. Sasha had small roles in the theatre. Her parents were gone; her mother had cancer, and her father ran off when she was a kid. After he divorced her mom, he ran off with another woman. The only living grandparents she had were in Russia, her mother was Russian. Only her brother was helping us from time to time.”

  “His name?” asked Jane.

  “Damian Dolton. Will you tell him about my . . . thing?” Mat was getting more nervous.

  “No, I don’t think he will take it well. He will probably want to kill you, and I don’t want to be the reason for murder. I’m not saying you don’t deserve it.” Jane looked at him with disgust. “Anyway, can you think of anyone who wanted to harm Sasha?”

  “No, everyone loved her,” he cried.

  Jane left him in the middle of the garden and headed to the team. They were waiting for her with curiosity on their faces.

  “We have to check with the brother. Nick, you with me,” ordered Blake. “Valdez, Gray, you may go to Hollywood.”

  “Why?” asked Ian surprisingly.

  “Because she was an actress. Check the film set of ‘Cloudy Skies.’“ Jane grabbed Nick’s hand and dragged him to her car. “Come on!”

  “Why are you so harsh with Gray? What did he do?” asked Lee on the way to Damian Dolton’s house.

  Jane ignored the question. She got out and approached a man who was walking a dog near the house where they should go.

  “Damian Dolton?”

  “Who asks?” The man was more than six feet tall and probably around four hundred pounds.

  “Jane Blake, LAPD. It is about your sister,” said Jane, showing her badge. When she opened the leather case with the little J in the corner, it reminded her how mad she was at Ryan, so she hurried to put it back in her pocket.

  “You don’t look like a cop,” said the man while taking a stronger grip on the Rottweiler’s leash.

  “Consultant, he is the cop!” Jane smiled and pointed at Nick who ran to get next to her.

  “What’s that about?” asked the brother when he saw Lee’s badge and was sure they were legit.

  “We may need to go in,” said Nick Lee.

  Damian welcomed them into his house and went to lock the dog in the next room. When he got back, Jane started to talk.

  “Sasha was murdered.”

  Damian’s eyes widened. He stood up, and then he sat down. His hands were clenched into fists; his cheeks and ears were bright red. An artery in his neck was pounding furiously.

  “Who did it?” he asked.

  “A serial killer; we still don’t have a name,” explained Nick.

  “I’ll tell you the name!” he shouted. “Jack Barnett!”

  “Who is Jack Barnett?” Jane asked when she finished her routine walk around the house.

  “Sick kid from school. He was chasing my sister years after we graduated. I had to kill him back then!” Damian was shaking from anger.

  “Tell me more about him.” Jane was calm as usual.

  “The bastard was stalking Sasha. One day he was afraid of everyone, and the next day he got into a fight. It was like he was different every day. Some days he acted like a normal teenage boy, but then he switched to a crazy person. He talked about some galactic empires and bullshit. Sick, crazy person. And he wanted my sister. I’ve scared him; I’ve beaten him; but he didn’t stop.” Damian’s breathing was fast and irregular.

  “I know you want to kill him. Don’t!” Jane said and headed for the door.

  “Why? I had only Sasha, and he took her away!” the man spoke breathlessly.

&n
bsp; “Because, first, I don’t think he is the killer.” Jane stopped at the door “And second, if you kill him you will be in jail for a long time. Do you think Sasha would have wanted that life for you?”

  Damian didn’t answer.

  Jane and Nick didn’t call the team. Blake wanted to visit the mentally ill person before doing that. They didn’t believe a sick person with no criminal record, (they checked it at the moment they got out of Dolton’s house) would do all those terrible things. Rewera was clever, narcissistic. He had a mental problem but not the kind Damian described.

  Blake and Lee arrived at Barnett’s house where an old woman opened the door. They informed her what was the reason for their visit. She called her husband so they both could tell the story of their sick son.

  “Jack has schizophrenia. His condition is bad,” Mr. Barnett said the moment his wife explained the situation.

  “Where is he now?” Jane asked.

  “Upstairs. Locked in his room,” Mrs. Barnett cried. “He loved Sasha. He is still talking about her when he is in his right mind. Jack would never harm Sasha, never!”

  “I can see the bars on the windows. How bad is he?” Jane took few steps back to see the thick bars on the second-floor windows.

  “He became dangerous. We have him locked here because there are no free rooms at the nearest mental hospital. We specifically asked the doctors. We want him near so we can visit. Jack’s been locked in the room for five months now. A psychiatrist comes every day to check on him and to give him the medicine,” Mr. Barnett sounded disappointed.

  “We need to speak to that doctor,” said Lee.

  The woman went inside and returned a few seconds later with a business card in her hand.

  “Here.”

  Jane and Nick had to go now. Lee checked in with the psychiatrist because of the protocol they had to keep. They both knew this Jack Barnett wasn’t the murderer. And they were right. The doctor confirmed every word.

  Back in the office, the news were no different. The CSU didn’t find anything useful. Ryan and Ian also had nothing. Hunt gathered them around his favorite conference table.

  “So, again we have nothing?” he shouted.

  “The connection is they all were popular in school. Also, they had crazy secret admirers who stalked them. The girls ignored them, of course.” Jane walked around. “The question is: How did he knew that? I mean these women are different ages; they’ve been in different schools; they have nothing in common.”

  “I can’t see other connections, too. I think you are right, Blake.” Hunt looked as puzzled as Jane. He was holding the file of the serial killer and hoping he would see something new.

  Jane sat next to him and looked at the previous poem.

  “ . . . little doll . . .” Blake was murmuring the text “ . . . I’ll enjoy the bloody show . . .” She threw the photo on the table furiously. “That’s the fucking clue. Our victim was playing on a TV show, and she was the main character_a model.”

  Everyone looked at her.

  “He doesn’t want to help us find him. He just wants us to feel stupid. Absolute psychopath.” Jane growled.

  “Yeah, definitely not the type who is hoping to stop him,” Ian breathed loudly.

  “Okay. At least now we know he is giving us real info about his next victim. Give me the last poem, please.” Jane wanted to show them there was at least one thing they could work with. Hunt handed over the photo from the last murder. Blake took it and said she needed to think in peace. She left and headed to her favorite smoking place.

  The ten-minute break turned to twenty, thirty, an hour. Blake was on the bench lighting up cigarette after cigarette. She lost track of time; her eyes were focused on the words. Jane knew them perfectly well by now, but she was hoping there was something she was missing. Maybe the way it was written.

  “Hey!” Ryan was sitting next to her. Jane had no idea when he came or how long he’d been there. “You have to quit those. A pack for two hours?”

  “Yeah, I know I have to stop.” Jane started talking. For a second she forgot she was mad at him.

  “Did you find something?” Ryan pointed to the papers in her hand.

  “No,” she said icily. Jane remembered the bug in her phone again.

  “Look, I want you to know that I just wanted you to be safe.” Ryan noticed the change of tone. “You’ve been shot because of me. You were attacked twice by a hitman. Hunt and I are worried.”

  “Last time I checked I’m a big girl. I was a con artist, I survived things you can’t imagine. What makes you think I need a babysitter?” Jane said annoyingly. She stood and with quick steps headed back to the station.

  The park was empty as always at this time of the day. Ryan ran after her and grabbed her shoulder to stop her. Without realizing he took hold of the bullet scar. Jane felt a sharp pain that was like stabbing. She turned quickly, twisting his arm behind his back. Blake kicked him behind the knee so he would kneel, and then let go of his hand and turned her back.

  Ryan got up fast and tried to stop her again. This time he caught her other hand. Without thinking, she turned and punched him in the stomach. He bent down. Jane continued walking. Ryan took a few steps and caught her wrist. She spun and hit him again. This time he put his other hand over his stomach and managed to keep the grip on Jane’s wrist.

  “You can do that all day, but I’m not giving up!” Ryan said still crouched and coughing. Jane punched him hard enough to leave him without air.

  “What do you want me to tell you, Gray?” Blake shouted. “It was a dumb decision to go behind my back!”

  “I know, and I’m sorry! Please, give me a chance to prove you can trust me! I promise no more hiding. I want us to be a team,” said Ryan, who was standing with one knee on the ground and trying to breathe correctly.

  “Stand up; you’re pathetic.” Jane said with an outstretched hand. Ryan took it, and she helped him up. “For a big man like you, you handle punches badly. You look in shape; I thought you’d take it better.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes at her. He lifted his shirt to see the damage. The six-pack he had didn’t help much. Jane’s fist was printed on his skin in purple-red.

  “For a skinny woman you hit hard, I give you that! Ouch!” said Ryan while carefully touching the skin around the bruise. “And I told you I’m a computer nerd, not a Kung-Fu master!”

  “Maybe it is time to learn some new tricks. If you want to work with me on the field, you have to be able to protect yourself. I’m not going to save your ass forever!” Jane smiled.

  “Does this mean that you forgive me?” Gray was still in pain and breathed with difficulty.

  “I’m giving you the opportunity to prove yourself. I can forgive you, but I need more to trust you!” Jane had a habit of lifting her left eyebrow when she was suspicions or angry. And now she felt both.

  “Done. I will do anything. Will you help me with the fighting part?” Ryan asked excitedly.

  “Okay, I can do that at some point, but now is not the time for playing,” she said. “Now I want to go to Hunt together. I need to know if I will stay in LAPD.”

  Blake nodded to show she wanted them to go. Ryan stretched and pretended he was okay.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked while rubbing his belly through the shirt.

  “It means that if Hunt can’t convince me he is trustworthy, I have to leave. I can’t team up with people that I don’t trust,” said Blake and glanced at him coldly.

  “Oh.” Gray didn’t want to say more. He knew Hunt was more than trustworthy, but Ryan couldn’t fight the fact that they tailed Jane. What if it was for her own good? Jane Blake was the most suspicious, untrusting person he knew.

  They walked back to the station in silence. Jane looked thoughtful. She was still thinking about the clue she couldn’t see in Rewera's writing.

  “All four,” she whispered.

  “What?” Ryan didn’t understand.

  “He will kill four pe
ople next!” Jane said worringly.

  “What? Who?” Gray was puzzled.

  “Rewera will kill four people!” Blake explained.

  Ryan looked at her with horror in his eyes.

  “Four? Are you sure?”

  “No, I’m not sure, but I think. I have a feeling that’s what he wants to tell us,” Jane explained and pointed to the last two rows: ‘Drained, rebuild, I feel the shake. Three-days-time is all it takes.’ I think this is also a clue. I don’t know what it means exactly, but I think it is important.”

  They hurried to tell the others. The team was nowhere on the case. When they heard Jane’s guess, it got even worse. Nick freaked out. How were they going to find four women when they knew nothing about them except they were popular at school and they were dark-haired with light eyes. There were a million women with that description. Ian couldn’t believe Jane.

  “Let’s be honest here, you have nothing more than a hunch. I don’t want to flip out because of a hunch.”

  “I’m with Valdez on this one,” Hunt said. “Blake, I know you have a sixth sense or whatever they call it, but I can’t go door to door to every dark-haired woman between twenty and forty years old and tell them they are in danger. What should I say? ‘A killer we don’t know wants to kill you. Stay away from a man.’ Sorry, Blake, but this is nothing we can work on.”

  “Come on, Connor, we have to do something!” Ryan joined the conversation.

  “Hate to say it, but I’m with Hunt. We can’t do anything at the moment.” Jane spoke quietly. “May I talk to you in private?” she turned to him.

  They walked to Hunt’s office, but Jane stopped at the door. “Gray, you too!”

  Jane made herself comfortable on the gray leather sofa in Hunt’s office. Ryan and Connor sat in the chairs facing her. Nobody spoke. Blake waited. It was a beautiful trick to make the opponent talk first. She was looking at them calmly and let the awkward silence take place. Hunt knew this little tactic, so he was quiet too. He’d used it on so many criminals, it was weird for it to be used on himself. Ryan, on the other hand, was getting nervous. He was aware Jane was testing Hunt. Ryan wanted more than anything for things between them to be alright. Jane had to stay in the department. Ten minutes of silence were enough for Hunt to start talking.