Nothing Sacred (FBI Agent Dan Hammer Series Book 1)

by Douglas Wickard

  “Let’s hope not.” Janice took a forkful of chicken. It literally fell off the bone, dripping in brown, gooey sauce. “And neither have you!”

  Quiet moments over candlelight as they dipped warm tortilla chips into the guacamole, passed more rice and beans and added dressing to their salads. Janice chose the Light Ranch, forever watching her weight.

  “So tell me…” Lisette initiated the conversation, lightly tossing her salad with her fork. “You’ve been quite a busy lady since I last saw you.”

  “I’m exhausted. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so tired.”

  Another pause. “Would you like to stay the night?” Janice looked up. Lisette responded with eyes so tender. She cared. At least Janice prayed she did. “I can’t disconnect your cell phone,” she continued, “but I can disconnect mine. You look like you could use a good night’s sleep.”

  Janice didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt like crying. Instead, she stared down at the mixture of colors bleeding together on her plate. “Yes.” She responded tentatively for the first time in her earthly existence.

  She was learning.

  They sat together at the kitchen table. They chatted superficially about the colorful Mexican tablecloth Lisette collected on a recent trip to Cancun. They finished their dinner and devoured their drinks, having another round with extra shots of tequila on the side. They lightly salted the top of their hands, seductively licking each other’s, before slugging back the clear chilled shots. They bit down on limes and let the warmth surround them.

  They watched the crooked minute hand progress sleepily on the funny rooster clock. They witnessed the candle burn out before them. The music playing from the living room stopped. The only sound… the rhythmic rise and fall of each other’s separate breathing. Then Lisette, once again, took Janice’s hand and led her into the bedroom. There, she gently disrobed her and ushered her into bed. Janice felt the texture of freshly laundered sheets pulled tight beneath her. The light, clean smell of lavender and sunshine, the lingering essence of Lisette’s naked body hovering above her, close by her, and all around her. Then, with the heightened sensitivity of a thousand blind angels learning the exquisite finger workings of Braille, Lisette carefully read Janice’s body, discovered the center of her sacred beauty and proceeded to nurture it.

  Janice’s tiny breath of a prayer… answered.

  Amen.

  2:37 AM

  Saturday

  I-95 South

  25

  Harry had a dream.

  Discarded like a piece of ratty luggage, the battered, torn remains of a female body had been thrown off a steep ravine and landed in a heavily wooded area south of Fredericksburg. Standing at the precipice of the cliff, Harry looked down and saw the naked torso, camouflaged under fallen leaves and scattered branches. A bare, bloated leg jettisoned outward at a grotesque angle like a twisted root around the elegant base of a majestic Maple tree.

  He inched his way down the narrow gorge, holding onto samplings and wiry roots to help balance himself. The sky was gray and threatening. His feet were sodden with mud. His thoughts were projecting better days, extended weeks with time off, vacation, and his much anticipated, imminent retirement. He was alone. The rank, disgusting smell of decomposition mixed with wet vegetation and damp air competed for confined space. A fine mist hung low to the ground. Hungry flies circled, en masse, landing on the body, and then taking off. An annoying buzz permeated the roped off area. Harry reminded himself there was little he hadn’t witnessed in his career. He snapped on vinyl from his coat pocket. His soul was weary.

  He bent down to examine the frail, gray, swollen back of the victim. Thin, curved bones protruded outward. Blood pooled in dark purple patches. He estimated how long the body had been here, how long she’d been dead. White, writhing maggots twisted and turned in the open wounds. Time of death? Automatically, he worked with equations and mathematics. It took his thoughts away. Off his profession, from what he did for a living. It separated the beast. Diverted the facts. At one time, this body breathed and danced, enjoyed sex and possibly even had children. Like him. This human being had been alive and well and healthy with feelings of loss and disappointment and joy.

  Like him…

  The body was female. She had short hair, styled at one time in a fashionable cut. Dried blood and decay matted it down against her skull. He turned the face toward him. In his terror, he saw the startling clear eyes of Susan.

  His wife.

  Harry bolted upright in bed. His tee shirt was soaked with perspiration. He looked at the clock. Twelve forty five. He’d only been asleep for forty five minutes. The mere thought of trying to get back to sleep sent panic throughout his body. What a horrifying picture. A horrific sight. He got up and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. At the dining room table, he cleared away newspapers and magazines. He made an empty space to lay his head down. In solitude, he cried. Again. Twice in one day. A record

  Dressing in the lonely, dark bedroom, he left the house and drove directly to the hospital. The streets were empty, catatonic. From his open window, the soft sound of gears shifting, streetlights changing colors.

  Surprise registered on the nurse’s face when he slipped quietly into Susan’s private room. He didn’t want to wake her. He only wanted to make sure she was okay. He needed to remind himself that Susan had not met the horrible fate he dreamed. In his mind, he knew she hadn’t. Then, he remembered Susan was dying and in some weird way, the nightmare was his way of subconsciously dealing with her death. Trained. Abandoned bodies littered alongside the highways, expressways and in dipsey dumpsters gave him answers. How somebody died. A random external event, violent and frantic and forced, he could explain. Comprehend. But how does one manage the internal? The implacable forces of human nature? The swift and ravaging power of the dreaded cancer?

  Now, driving south on Interstate-95 toward Charleston, Harry found one way of dealing with Susan’s impending demise. Now, it felt like the only way. Work.

  He knew he couldn’t go back to sleep. Not even if he climbed in beside Susan, squeezed his big body alongside her bony frame and forced his weight against hers, which he’d done, secretly, several times before. He also knew he couldn’t return home. The only other choice was to cancel his intended flight, scheduled to depart at 7:30 AM and drive the five hours to Charleston in the luxury of his own speed controlled car. A task force was forming at the Lockwood Precinct at 0800 hours and he would arrive, by his calculations, right on time. Mathematics had always been a strong suit for Harry.

  On Susan’s bedside table, he left a note for the kids explaining he would call them first thing in the morning. For Susan, he left a message reminding her that he loved her. A smiley face with one eye blinking, drawn quickly underneath his sloppy signature “Harry,” was his not-so-secret way of saying so.

  And, he did.

  2:47 AM

  Saturday

  26

  Journal Entry

  I hate waiting.

  Where the fuck is he? He promised he’d be here right after work. If Mommy finds out about this, I am really, really dead. I keep jumping up and looking out the window. Shit, I don’t see him. I have the lights out. It is pitch black in here. Just the miniature flashlight from my IPhone so I can write this entry. I went to the bathroom earlier… everything sounded quiet in Mommy and Daddy’s room. No action going on in there tonight, thank God! What would Mommy think of her little girl if she knew she was knocked up? Pregnant? I really cannot think about that right now, or I’ll start crying. I probably shouldn’t even be writing it down. Putting it all on paper. Mommy’s been such a snoop lately. Going through my dressers, my closets, reading everything she can get her grubby little mitts on. God, you would think I was some kind of criminal or something, the way she watches over me. But, that’s ok. Tomorrow morning, before I go to my babysitting job, I’ll burn this entry in the bathroom. I’ve done it before. Mommy just thinks I’m smoking cigare
ttes. She can hardly bitch about that. She smokes like a chimney herself, for God’s sake…

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  I just checked the window again. The street is so quiet. Spooky. Hardly any cars are out on the road. A few fishing boats are in the harbor. It’s really beautiful out there. Those yellow lights, way out there in the distance, flickering… on and off…

  Finally…

  “Phillip?” She tiptoed across the pink carpeted floor to the window. She thought she saw him. She unlocked the latch, opened the window, peered out over the sill and whispered, “Romeo, oh Romeo, where for art thou, Romeo?” She cracked herself up sometimes. She suppressed a giggle. God forbid her parents would hear. She could act like such a retard sometimes.

  For sure.

  Phillip maneuvered his lean body like a gymnast through a patch of hedge running alongside the house. Just the sight of him made Jenn’s face flush. Her knees weak. Her pussy twitched. She understood now what Juliet must have felt like. What she must have gone through. To be a woman. To be loved. Cherished. Made love to. Also, let’s be brutally honest, get laid.

  Hello!

  Unfortunately, Phillip had no idea what she was about to tell him. She had only just found out herself. She thought perhaps that the results were wrong. She’d performed the in home pregnancy test to check and see if the dot turned blue, or pink or whatever the color was. The results kept turning up positive. So after she finished work the other day, and scared out of her panties, she drove Mommy’s car to the Clinic in North Charleston. She made up some lame excuse, gave a fake name, sat in a depressing gray tiled Waiting Room and watched women come and go through the revolving doors. Pregnant and nervous as they entered, pale and shaking as they left. At least now she knew where to go for the abortion. In and out. Just like those burger stands out in California. Maybe one day they’d invent a drive through clinic. Unless, of course, Phillip didn’t want her to have an abortion. Unless perhaps, Phillip would want her to keep the baby. She knew he loved her. That was the reason they had gone “all the way” in the first place. Not that she was a prude or anything. She wasn’t. She’d listened to all her Mommy had told her. The whole bird’s and the bee’s bullshit. Sometimes, she actually did listen. Most of the time, anyway. She just hated it whenever her Mommy did tell her something, and it always came true. For some mysterious reason, it always seemed to happen.

  Like, what the fuck was that?

  Phillip slipped one foot through the open window and fell onto the floor. “Shhhh. Jesus, be quiet.” She helped him up, pulling at his arms, wrestling with his big, solid frame.

  “Come on, hurry. I don’t want anybody to see you.” She led him from the window to the bed whispering as they went. “I thought you were coming straight from work.”

  “I had to stay late. You heard about that fire?”

  “No. Now shut up.” Phillip still had his white scrubs on. She pushed off his jacket and kissed his mouth, burrowing her tongue deep inside his. She tasted stale coffee on his breath. He needed a shave. Phillip worked as an ambulance driver at the MUSC. It was a decent job. Excellent benefits. Good enough, she guessed. What did she know about the work force? She was only in the tenth grade.

  “Hey, my honey man…” she cooed, as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. Her breasts were free and loose underneath her flimsy pajama top. His arms felt so damn good, so fucking strong. Just holding onto him she was getting turned on. She hoped it would always be like this. This feeling of hunger. This need bordering on desperation. The desire to be with somebody so great, so strong, it was almost overpowering. She hardly recognized that feeling between Mommy and Daddy anymore. She knew they still loved each other. She just didn’t feel that passion between them anymore. That incredible lust to be with a person sexually. She prayed to God Phillip would always want her like he did right now.

  “You’re one hot tamale tonight, aren’t ‘ya, babe?” Phillip responded by putting his cold hands up her pajama top and played with her nipples.

  She pulled him onto the bed. She kicked off the comforter and sheets with her feet. They fell onto the floor in a tangled heap. She thrust her hand to his pants and unbuckled his belt. His prick was already hard. Like a fucking rock.

  “Oh, Phillip, oh, Phillip,” she chanted into his neck, keeping her voice low. There was no way to describe her appetite, her frenzy, her insatiable need. She scooted her bottoms off and spread her legs open. Wide. She liked the way it felt when she stretched her thigh muscles all the way to the opposite sides of the bed. Sometimes, she would even point her toes. Like a gymnast, or a high-board diver or just a horny little slut needing to get some. She was so glad she wasn’t writing these thoughts down. Mommy would simply die!

  Phillip’s cock was nice. What did she know about dicks? She’d only test driven a few. In her limited experience, she’d been extremely lucky. They’d all been perfect. Rods of steel. Supermen!

  “Oh, Phillip, oh, yes…” She murmured into his ear as he inserted, the head at first, and then slowly, the rest of him popped in and slid inside her. Breathe, then push. Breathe, then push some more. “Not too loud, baby. Don’t want to wake up my Mommy and Daddy. They might get jealous of their little girl’s fun. Now, stick your tongue here Phillip. Yeah, baby, all the way down my ear. Yes. Now do my chest, Phillip. Around my breasts…yes, oh, Phillip. Can you hear me, Phillip? Do it. Yes, Phillip, yes…”

  She could feel every inch of him inside her, every demi centimeter. She extended her legs so far, and so wide, a cramp was welling up in her lower calf muscle. Hurry, Phillip, hurry. She didn’t want to break her concentration. She didn’t want to have to bend her knee… the feeling was so damn good. So hot. So unbelievably intense. And tonight, Phillip, tonight it’s totally cool. Tonight little Jenn didn’t give a rat’s ass. She didn’t care. No clumsy, awkward moments with Mr. Raincoat. No wasted moments worrying about a freaking condom. No, Phillip, tonight it was only you. Just you and your undressed cock sealed up tight inside of her. So bang away, Phillip. Bang away!

  After all, why worry? The baby was already forming. Deep, deep inside her. Buried within the layered folds and secret hiding places of her evolving womanhood. Picture it. Like a funny looking little embryo developing and growing and swimming around inside little Jennifer Stattler. She wondered if the tiny baby fetus would recognize Phillip’s sperm. Would the baby be able to distinguish between his brother’s and sister’s? Spinning around inside, doing summersaults and flip-flops against her fertile, engorged walls. Then again, maybe they wouldn’t. Because, maybe the baby wasn’t Phillip’s. Maybe it was Devin’s. Jennifer hadn’t told Phillip about Devin. The black Rastafarian with the uncut dick that reminded her of a huge plantain turned upside down. Devin, who worked part time at the market and was almost thirty. Devin who had told Jenn he came in flavors. That’s what he said, anyway. He had seduced her by telling Jenn his sperm tasted like chocolate. Imagine that? Chocolate sperm. Honest to God. And, anybody who knew Jenn, I mean, everybody knew how much Jenn loved chocolate. “Right, Phillip…

  Yes, baby, yes…”

  Almost as much as she loved Phillip.

  Almost.

  6:47 AM

  I-95 South

  Saturday

  27

  In all of Harry’s travels across the United States and abroad, he had never visited Charleston. The closest he got was back in 1986. He testified as an expert witness at the trial of Larry Gene Bell. Bell was standing trial for the murder of Shari Faye Smith. Even though the murder took place near Columbia, South Carolina, they held the trail in Berkeley County, near Charleston, due in part to the huge amount of publicity surrounding the case.

  After a month of testimony, the jury took forty seven minutes to return the verdict. The court found Larry Gene Bell guilty of kidnapping and first degree murder. Four days later, upon further deliberation and recommendation from the jury, Larry Gene Bell was sentenced to death by electrocution.

  It
was a grisly case, publicized to an even greater extent when a movie of the week aired on television. Harry had mixed feelings about brutal killers becoming celebrities. Why give them what they always wanted? Notoriety. At the time, it was especially painful for him. He tried to separate himself emotionally from the case, but sometimes something as small as a picture or a stuffed animal or a lost child’s shoe would trigger an emotional response. Nancy was around the same age as Shari Faye Smith. Every time he saw Dawn, Shari’s sister, he thought of Nancy. His little girl. His heart went out to the parents of children who had lost their lives, their loved ones to insensitive, heinous murderers.

  On the flip side, never had the union of law enforcement -- county, state and federal -- worked together so well and in such an organized fashion to successfully stop a dangerous serial killer early on in his destructive career. By marrying the expertise and talent of criminal profiling, crime analysis, traditional police and forensic techniques, state officials were able to apprehend and sentence Larry Gene Bell before another victim fell prey to his terror.

  Larry Gene Bell died October 4, 1996 at South Carolina’s Correctional Facility by electrocution in the clutches of “Old Sparky.”