Jake spoke up, his voice louder than intended. “I’m going in.” He said it with such force it brooked no argument.
“Okay.” Ed pushed open the door.
On the table lay a body covered with a white sheet. Ed’s assistants had set the victim up for viewing. There was no way to hide the odor of death, though they tried to camouflage it with disinfectant, air fresheners, and Clorox. ‘The house of death’ is what cops called it.
Jake took a deep breath; he looked to his father for support. A tall man, whom Jake favored in height only, his father squared his shoulders and nodded to the ME.
“Show me,” James demanded.
Doc Jerome pulled back the sheet to reveal a girl in her mid-teens, badly bruised, the trauma of her death etched in her horrified expression. Fright forever pasted on her young face.
“Was she raped?” James asked, while tears escaped his eyes.
“Yes.”
Neither man paid attention to Jake’s weeping at their side. Jake couldn’t stop as he viewed his younger sister. He gently touched her forehead, her cheek, kissing her on the lips.
He turned away in grief, saw both his anger and his pain reflected in his father’s face. His father’s fists clenched, his shoulders racked with heavy sobs as he viewed the broken body of his daughter. Jake understood he looked with a father’s eye, not a cop’s.
“Who could do such a thing to such a sweet, innocent girl?” James cried. Asking the same question that many, many parents asked him throughout his career. Jake understood his father never thought he’d be here asking the same questions, viewing his own.
The buzzing in Jake’s ears increased. The next thing he knew, someone held a glass of water to his lips. The stress of the situation had overtaken him—he’d collapsed on the floor.
“I’m sorry, Jake. I shouldn’t have brought you here.” James hugged Jake, crushing him to his chest.
“I’m fine, Dad. Only, when you catch the bastard, I’m going to kill him for what he did to Eva. You need to know that.” He cursed in front of his father for the first time.
“Jake, don’t speak…”
“Jake, Goddamn it, Jake…” Brought back to the present by Louie yelling, horns blasting—Louie shaking him—Christ, he looked pale. Did I blackout? Jake wondered.
“What’s up, Louie?” Jake tried to shake off the memory.
“What’s fucking up? You almost got us killed. Where the hell did you go?” Louie shouted.
“I’m sorry, Louie.” Jake pulled off the road, on to the shoulder of the highway. He put the car in park. “I don’t know what got into me. Here, you drive.” Unbuckling his seat belt, Jake climbed out of the car, walked around to the passenger’s side, climbed in.
“What gives?” Louie asked after he took the wheel.
“Only a flash back,” Jake stated. Louie knew about them, no one else did.
“Only? Jesus, you almost got us killed, Jake. You haven’t had one in a long time. A bad one? You know, I think I’m gonna have to check my shorts later,” Louie rambled.
“Funny. It was my first time at the morgue.”
“Oh.”
“I guess Keisha got to me more than I thought.”
“It got to all of us. Buckle up. We’re going to be late.” Louie pulled back into traffic.
Wanting to change the subject, Jake asked, “What do I get a fourteen-year-old girl for her birthday?”
“Beats me. Ask Sophia.”
“Louie, put your foot on the gas or we’ll never get there.” Jake hated the way Louie drove. His mother drove faster than Louie.
“I’ll get us there safe, though.”
“I normally do too,” Jake said, annoyed.
“Call Sophia, get off my case. It’ll give you something to do until we get there.”
Jake dialed Sophia; she picked up on the second ring. “What’s up, Jake?” she asked.
“I can’t stand caller ID.”
“I know, is Louie okay?” she asked, her voice a little strained.
“He’s fine. In fact, he’s driving this morning.”
“Oh?”
“No oh—I’m a bit distracted. Mr. Worrywart thought I’d think better without having to deal with the traffic. The old lady insisted.”
“I see.”
“Quick call. I need to know what to get Marissa for her birthday. I don’t have a clue. No toys, right?”
Sophia laughed. “Right. She’s a young woman now, no dolls.” She sighed. “Though I do miss the child. She wants clothes or make-up, Jake. Either one will work.”
“Come on, Sophia, I’m not doing either. Where does she shop? I’ll get her a gift certificate.”
“Get her a mall gift certificate and she’ll be your friend for life. She can use it at any store.”
“Okay. Our mall or do I have to go to Hartford?”
“Our mall’s good. That way I won’t have far to drive.” She laughed.
“Thanks. See you.”
“Bye.” She hung up. Jake turned to Louie.
“You know I’m in love with your wife?”
“Yeah, I know.” Louie pulled into the UConn health center, grabbing the first parking space he saw.
*
They walked quietly to the morgue, both lost in their own thoughts. Tough day, Jake thought. Their steps echoed off the barren walls, reminding Jake of his flashback. He took a deep breath to steady himself.
A button on the left side of the door needed to be pushed to gain entrance to the room. Doctor Adam Lang, the ME, greeted them—a tall, lanky man, who always looked in need of a meal. He carried one-seventy on his six foot four frame. His skin gave off a translucent glow, the same color as the corpses he worked with. He worked ridiculously long hours, not seeming to care if he saw daylight or not. Jake lived for the outdoors. He didn’t understand people who stayed inside all the time. Lang’s humor was legendary within the department.
Today he showed no humor. “I’m sickened by what one human being can do to another, yet normally I handle it. But this…this atrocity goes beyond…beyond… I don’t have words for it, sorry.” He turned away from them toward the baby.
“Well, let’s get on with it.” Lang pulled the sheet back, uncovering Keisha.
*
The autopsy took two and a half hours. They both were drained when they left the morgue.
“What’s next, Jake?” Louie asked, slyly heading to the driver’s side of the car.
“Nice try, Louie, give me back my keys. I’m driving,” Jake replied in a firm voice.
“Killjoy.” Louie pouted, handing Jake the keys.
“You want food on the way back?”
“No. How can you even think about food? I can’t eat after watching an autopsy.”
“Me either. Let’s head to the lab, see what they got. If we have time, why don’t we pull the murder book on Wagner?”
*
Arriving at the station house a little after two o’clock, they went straight to the bullpen. Their desks were set up to face each other. Jake’s desktop held his phone, his laptop; Louie’s held the same, plus a file holder, an in and out box, and wrappers from his breakfast sandwich, along with an empty coffee cup. Jake didn’t like clutter. He kept his files in the desk drawers. He opened his bottom drawer, and removed the murder book on Wagner, setting it on top of his desk. Realizing he needed to update his current files, he pushed the Wagner murder book aside to update his notes on Keisha Jones. He answered his emails next.
Jake finished his report, emailed a copy to both Louie and his captain. Normally he would email it to his lieutenant, not his captain, but they didn’t have one—theirs had recently retired. Jake had taken the test and passed with flying colors, scoring third out of one hundred applicants. He anxiously waited to learn what his assignment would be. He wanted the homicide division, so he could actively work cases along with his administrative duties. He’d voiced all this to his captain. A waiting game—the brass moved slowly when making decisio
ns.
His thoughts were interrupted by Louie. “So, where do you want to start?”
“Let’s start at the beginning, like it’s a new case.” Jake took out a file, a yellow writing pad from his top drawer, a pencil and then moved the Wagner murder book to the center of his desk. Louie took out his notes also. Jake read the file aloud.
“Shanna—a star, tops in her class, ambitious, working besides going to school. I’m sure those kind of achievements could cause jealousy. Set off a competitor. She interned at an accounting firm, where she was offered a job a year before she even graduated. A beautiful young woman who didn’t date often; in fact the only one she dated within six months of her death turned out to be a fellow employee at the firm where she worked. Mark Cavilla. We suspected him.
“The answers to this murder lies in the rage. The violence suggests a lover or someone she turned down. A casual remark, at her age, could have set someone off. Chloe said Cavilla kept in touch with her. He seems old for Shanna at twenty-seven. An accountant at the place she interned…probably where they met. Small for a guy, five-ten, weighing in at 150 pounds—black hair, black eyes, with a big temper. His attitude when we questioned him showed his arrogance. He didn’t like to be questioned. All his answers seemed rehearsed, though he had a good alibi. Let’s look into it again.”
Jake’s head jerked up when one of the other detectives shouted. “Shut up, Carrington. Some of us can think without our lips moving. I’m trying to concentrate here,” Burke said.
Al Burke had been a detective in the department for the past ten years. Altogether, he’d been a cop for fifteen years. His faced showed each year in its lines. A face you wouldn’t consider pretty, his eyes were hard, his nose red from drinking—his coping mechanism. He’d been divorced three times, no current love interest. He stood five-ten with a gut on him the size of Jupiter.
“Asshole,” Jake muttered. “Hey Burke, how’s the eye? I heard you caught a tough one today. Ninety-year old woman gave you a black eye. Too strong for you?”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Carrington. Tough doesn’t even describe this one. Mean as a pit bull. You should have seen what she did to her husband. Cut him up like a roast, because he complained about her smoking. Can you believe it? Her smoking! She’s ninety fucking years old. What I saw today, she’ll last another ten years, if a day. I feel sorry for her cell mate. I don’t know how her husband lived with her for seventy-five years. I would have killed myself.”
“We can help. What’s your weapon of choice?” Louie said.
“Funny. I’m breaking my stitches on that one, Romanelli,” Burke replied.
Captain McGuire stepped out of his office. “Jake, can I see you for a moment?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“In my office,” he replied.
Jake looked at Louie, shrugged his shoulders, walked into the captain’s office. Right off, Jake noticed the blinds on the window facing the squad room were still drawn. The captain liked his privacy.
“What’s up, Captain?”
“The board reviewed your request.” He gave nothing away. I don’t want to play poker with this one.
“What’s their decision?” Jake held himself at attention, holding his breath.
“The Chief and I feel you’re not ready to sit at a desk handling administrative issues. We feel you’d better serve, and be happier, on the streets with Louie.”
Stomach sinking, he asked, “Is that all the board reviewed at this time?”
“No, Jake.” He paused, held out his hand. “Congratulations, Lieutenant! You’re being promoted. This division is yours, if you want it. You’re a credit to this department and to the city. Be at the mayor’s office at three p.m. on Friday for the ceremony. Once again, congratulations, Jake, you’ve earned it.”
“Thank you, Sir. I’m sure we’ll go out for a beer or two, would you care to join us?”
“I’d love to. Instead, I’ll be sitting in a hot, sweaty room waiting for my child to dance. Applauding like I’m at a Broadway show. Lucky me.”
Jake knew those recitals could take hours. He once got guilted by Louie into going to one to watch his daughter dance. Four hours it lasted. Jake loved his goddaughter, though he swore never again. He shook his head at the horrific memory and walked back to his desk. Ignoring Louie’s glare, he started working on the Wagner file.
“Okay, what gives, Jake? What did the captain want?”
“It’s Lieutenant to you, Detective,” Jake said, laughing.
Louie jumped up and gave him a hug, instead of a handshake. “Well, this calls for a celebration. Hey Burke, Lieutenant Carrington is now your boss. Hot damn! There’s justice in this world!” Louie threw a couple of air punches.
Everyone came over to congratulate Jake. They made arrangements for the department to meet at the All Seasons after shift.
Jake looked up from the chatter, noticed the captain motioning him to come back into his office.
“Captain?”
“I almost forgot, Jake, you need to pick out your office. Tomorrow’s soon enough. Have a good night.” He turned off his light and walked out of his office.
Jake stood there for a long time in the dark. He’d never thought about an office before; he didn’t know how it would affect the dynamics between him and Louie. He came back out and sat down at his desk, glad Louie didn’t question the second summons into the captain’s office.
“This is great, because you’re already coming to dinner. We can celebrate with the family. I’ll call Sophia. Have her make a great dessert.” Louie gleamed.
“Thanks, Louie. I don’t need dessert, because I’ll be stuffing myself on the main course and on her freshly baked bread,” Jake said, deciding not to mention the office until tomorrow.
With command comes great responsibility echoed in his head; his father’s words to him when he made detective, before he pinned the shield on him. Captain James Carrington’s pride showed when he saluted Jake. His father died of a heart attack right after Jake’s promotion. He had one close relative this side of the ocean, his mother. The rest resided in Ireland, where his parents were from. She hated his job. He thought better of sharing his news with her.
Though unrelated, she felt his sister’s death resulted from her husband’s job. Not logical. A spoiled kid ruined their lives. Eva turned him down. He took what he wanted anyway, punishing her for rejecting him; an act done without a thought of what it might do to a special young woman and her family.
All this made him think of his mother. Guilt washed over him. Jake promised himself he’d visit her this week. Jake hated walking into the nursing home. Assaulted with the smell of urine, greasy food, and worse, he always held his breath until he reached his mother’s room. The crying and begging from the residents tore at his heart and he tried not to rush by the ones who sat in the hallways, reaching out as he walked by them. He hoped to God he never wound up there. In his opinion, a bullet to the head would be better.
The beautiful Maddie Keller Carrington—his mother—with her brownish-red hair, cream-colored, flawless skin, high cheekbones; all framing her deep green eyes. In fact, he got his looks from her and his height from his father. At five-six, Maddie had a six foot temper you didn’t mess with. Now trapped in the past, she lay in bed all day, crying, telling stories about her Eva though the tears. Jake wondered why she didn’t run out of tears. We lost two people on the day Eva died. My mother blamed me. She blamed my father. She blamed the police, the school—anyone she could think of. Something snapped in her brain on the day Eva died. Jake didn’t know if she wouldn’t or couldn’t move forward. A tight family unit, once happy—never the same after that day, he thought. We all loved each other, looking forward to the bright future ahead of us. Yes, I’ll visit her tomorrow. Louie shook his arm, brought him back to the present.
“Hey, you in there?” Louie asked.
“Yeah, I’m running the evidence through my head, hoping something new comes out of it.” Jake looked at
Louie. “Let’s head out now, this way we’ll be on time for dinner.”
Louie stared at Jake. “A first, us leaving on time. Did I win the lottery?” Louie grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. “Oh, boss…”
“Funny, Louie. What?”
“First round’s on me. I want everyone to know I’m playing up to the new boss. Got it?” Louie laughed.
“Oh Louie, round two, plus three and round four, are also on you.” Laughing, Jake put on his jacket, walking out with Louie.
*
Not amused when both he and Louie walked in four hours later, smashed, Sophia let them know it. Jake thought he saw steam coming out of her ears. Laughing at some joke, with their arms around each other’s shoulders for support, he tried to focus.
“Where have the two of you been?” she asked, approaching Louie. “You stink! What have you been drinking? Why have you been drinking?’
“Does she always talk in riddles?” Jake tried to focus on Sophia.
“I never noticed, I can’t get past the beauty,” Louie slurred.
“Louie, I’m counting to three—I want answers. I don’t want the kids seeing you like this. Jake, you should be ashamed of yourself, getting him drunk like this.” She hit him on the arm.
“Ouch! It wasn’t me, he got me drunk. We went for a drink or two to celebrate with the other guys. We tried to leave an hour ago, but they wouldn’t let us go. Well, one drink led to another, and now we’re here.”
“Lucky me, here you are. Give me your keys, Jake. Who drove you home?”
Boy, concentrate your anger on Louie.
“I love you. You’re really sexy when you’re mad,” Louie said.
Jake, the least drunk of the two, laughed when Sophia rolled her eyes.
“Jake, who drove you two home?” she asked again.
“I really need your pasta, Sophia, so I can think. I think one of the uniforms drove us home, because I didn’t.” He scratched his head, swayed. “I know Louie didn’t either.”
“Good. Sit down.” She dished out penne topped with sauce and cheese onto a plate.
“Sophia, go easy on Louie, please.”
“Just eat, Jake. You’re staying here tonight.”
IF I FAIL Page 3
