Nothing Sacred (FBI Agent Dan Hammer Series Book 1)

by Douglas Wickard

  She practically hit her head on the doorway when the telephone rang. Janice looked at the bedside table where the phone sat. Beside it was an ancient answering machine. They still made them! The message gave the standard information: “You have reached 721-5478. Dr. Garrison is unable to take your call at this time. If this is a medical emergency, you can call the Medical University of South Carolina’s Front Desk at 723-8689 and they will have her paged for you. Thank you.”

  Her voice was cool, contained and void of emotion. Janice found it interesting the way she addressed herself in the third person. What was more amusing was the person who was leaving a message.

  “This is Detective Hammer. Uh, Dan. I just got your message.” A chuckle. “Actually, I just found the matchbook. Very good. I liked that. That was a good trick. Anyway, I’m happy you called, and…I would really enjoy spending some more time together…” Pause. “But, unfortunately tonight isn’t a good night. I’m babysitting the little one. You can call me when you get in. I’m home. You have the number.” Another snicker.

  Holy cow! Detective Hammer? Dan? Hammerhead?

  This case was getting more convoluted by the second! Janice kept staring at the red dot blinking on the answering machine. Dan Hammer? How the hell did that happen? The last time she saw the two of them, they were at each other’s throats waiting for the elevator at the Hospital. It was all too confusing trying to figure it out.

  What time was it anyway? After five. Janice guessed her stint at being a detective was turning out to be less than desirable. Oh well.

  She still had some time for Frisbee tosses at the beach with Jake before heading back to Charleston. First, she needed to check in with Louis. He probably thought she’d abandoned him. Would it be crass using the Doctor’s phone?

  Yes.

  She collected her big city, investigative ways and went back into the living room. She took one final sweep of the layout. The black leather sectional, the metal and glass coffee table, the fake fern hanging in the corner…

  Yikes…

  If Janice had to grade the décor of the place, in the appropriate pass/fail way, she would definitely have to give Dr. Garrison a fail. It grated on her, the design of the place. She only hoped Dr. Garrison was a better Surgeon than an interior decorator!

  A large rectangle of afternoon light reflected off the coffee table.

  I don’t remember the blinds being open.

  The room was different. The lighting. Something had changed. The shades had been drawn. Closed. Janice had made a mental note of it. It had been dark when she entered the apartment, that she definitely remembered. The first flinch of a warning. Her first alarm. An adrenalin surge began firing warning rockets inside her chest. A heightened sense of awareness flared throughout her body.

  Janice Porter, it’s time to go!

  She reached out for the door handle…

  5:46 PM

  49

  “Hey, girl. Where are you? Are you screening your calls?”

  Pause.

  “Okay. Give me a call when you get in. I’m home. And, what a day it’s been. Just in case you’ve forgotten who this is…let me remind you…Mmmmmmmmmm.”

  Another long pause.

  “Remember me? I think I’ve lost my mind.” Lisette gave a girlish, fun giggle. “Okay, Lois Lane. I hope that I’ll be hearing your voice real soon. Better yet, seeing that sweet ass of yours. Bye-bye for now.”

  Silence.

  7:07 PM

  50

  “Damn you, Gina.” Dan groaned as he scrambled to the front door, kicking loose articles of clothing and tennis shoes under tables and chairs as he went. “You’re early!”

  Dan swung open the door.

  “Dan.”

  “Hey. What are you doing here?”

  “May I come in?”

  “Sure, sure, of course. What time is it?”

  Sydia paused outside. “Am I interfering with something? Are you on your way out? If so…”

  “Honestly…”

  She opened the screen door and strolled into the cramped living room. A sweet smell lingered in her wake, like ripe watermelons, freshly washed hair. “Cops. Is honesty a requirement in getting accepted into the force?”

  “Sometimes.” Dan responded, glancing at his watch, hoping Sydia wouldn’t notice. “Didn’t you get my message?”

  Jesus. Pressure.

  “How much do you pay in rent for this place?” She asked, absorbing in the environment. At the bookshelf, she browsed through several dusty titles.

  “Cheap. Real cheap. Did I give you my address?”

  Getting close to Dan, close enough to know whether he had shaved or not, she inquired seductively, “Detective Hammer is there a bedroom?”

  Passion fruit, not watermelon…

  Dan was not immune to the sensations of being with a beautiful woman, particularly one he’d had fantasies over. His problem stemmed from one of two things, poor timing, or plain old bad luck. And, just as his attention could falter even further, the distinct and recognizable horn of Gina’s car began blaring outside. Dan drew away. Sexual static crackled between the two of them as he pulled back the makeshift curtains. He was praying to his Saint Christopher Medallion hanging around his neck that it wasn’t Gina dropping off Alexandra, but, as life would have it, it was. Gina had arrived, Alexandra propped up on her hip like an added appendage. She made her way up the flight of stairs holding on to the banister.

  “Excuse me for a minute.”

  Dan greeted Gina at the door. Alexandra smiled and took a strand of hair and began doing lazy twirls with it. “Hi Daddy!”

  “I don’t believe it.” Gina blurted out, catching her breath. Her voice took on a shrill, grating tone.

  “You’re actually here.”

  Alexandra extended her arms in Dan’s direction.

  “I am,” Dan responded nervously. “How’s my baby girl?” He opened the door and took Alexandra into his arms along with all her weighted paraphernalia. Too late, Dan realized that Sydia had decided to join the group in the welcoming party. Dan read it indisputably in Gina’s immediate and anxious disposition. If Gina’s mood were gray walking up the steps, it just turned a serious shade of black.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be having company.”

  Dan gave a nervous laugh. “I didn’t either, until just a few moments ago. Ah, this is Dr. Garrison… Sydia, I mean, and this is Gina, my ex-wife. Dan had to be honest. He purposely accented the ex. Of course, at this awkward and tense juncture in time, Gina and Sydia decide to contract a rare and deadly disease. Neither one of them were interested in helping in the niceties of introductions. Handshakes. Smiles. All forms of friendly greetings flew right out the dirty, cracked window. Even the tiniest intention of pretending to be nice disappeared.

  Discomfort, irony and a succession of stressful seconds under extreme pressure ignited before Gina made the first comment. A dig, as usual.

  “Well, well, well. Moving up in the world. A Doctor? My Mother will be so proud.”

  “I doubt it.” From behind Dan, Sydia spoke, acridly interjecting her two cents into the strained mix.

  Gina followed. Two cats on a hot tin roof. “I’ll make sure I tell her tonight over dessert.” Gina raised her tinted shades to get a better look at Sydia through the mesh door.

  She turned away and strutted back into the living room. She took a seat on the sofa and crossed her long, thin legs. If Dan didn’t know better, he would swear Sydia had been to his apartment before and lounged on his sofa at least a thousand times. Authority oozed from her very core.

  “Have a nice time, Gina.” Dan said, trying to sound sincere. He also wanted this uncomfortable situation to end. “Don’t worry about Alexandra. She’ll be fine. Won’t you?” Alexandra nodded her head. Secretly, she knew she was Daddy’s girl.

  “Tomorrow morning.” Gina strained her neck to see around Dan. By her reaction, he sensed she was observing Sydia, sitting on the couch, legs seductive
ly crossed. “Eight o’clock. Sharp!”

  “Everything will be fine.”

  “I’ve heard that before. You forget Dan. I was married to you.”

  That’s it. I’ve had enough.

  Dan opened the door. “Come here.”

  “What?” Gina turned to leave. “Dan, I don’t have time for this right now.”

  Dan followed Gina outside to the metal railing. Alexandra had now become Dan’s new appendage on his hip. He grabbed Gina’s wrist, pulled her close and whispered into her ear, “Why do you hate me so much?”

  “Stop this. I don’t hate you.”

  Dan continued. “What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?”

  For a minute, Gina stared into Dan’s eyes. He thought she might even begin to cry. Instead, she said. “Don’t upset the baby. Not before I leave.”

  Dan looked at Alexandra nestled into his shoulder, sucking her thumb contently. “Alexandra’s fine.” The last thing Dan would ever want to do is upset his daughter.

  Gina avoided the question by shaking Dan off and hurrying down the steps.

  “My car’s running. I don’t want some asshole getting any ideas. That’s all I need!” At the bottom of the stairway, Gina reminded Dan to have Alexandra ready by eight. Again. Not eight-thirty, not ten after nine. Eight.

  Dan nodded.

  Under his breath, he whispered, “Of course, Gina. Of course.”

  Dan watched Gina back her compact car out of the driveway and speed off. She didn’t wave goodbye. Alexandra smiled as they entered back into the apartment.

  “Sydia, I have somebody very special I want you to meet.”

  7:52 PM

  51

  The night was progressing routinely (if not downright boring) for Officer Reardon. He had just dropped Police Sergeant Kelly off at the Folly Beach Precinct and was on his way to Taco Bell to pick up a few burritos before heading back to work. He was planning on taking advantage of this opportunity and catch up on some long-overdue paperwork.

  The call came through the scanner while he was in line at the drive-thru. Routine. Nothing serious. A disturbance over at The Water’s Edge apartment complex. Some dog was locked up in a car and going ballistic.

  Reardon took the call, backed out of line, put his hunger on hold for the time being and headed toward the Beach to check out the situation.

  When he arrived, a dog, large and gray was darting from the backseat of the car to the front. The poor critter was certainly in an agitated and excited state. The Officer peeked inside. To his surprise, he didn’t find any accidents. Not that he could see. The sun had set so he was using his flashlight. The light seemed to irritate the dog even more. The doors were locked up tight. The barking continued, a weird sort of bark, though. Low and guttural, like moaning. He noticed a plastic container in the backseat filled with water. An orange, neon colored, badly chewed up Frisbee rested on the passenger seat. The Officer’s first priority was to find out who the owner of the vehicle was and secondly, to get the dog out from the car.

  He radioed the Precinct and did a search of the tags. Then he approached the residents living in the complex. The first neighbor he interviewed had called in the complaint. They were waiting for him at the top of the walkway. She and her husband had noticed the dog when they first arrived home from grocery shopping at the Piggly Wiggly. They had never seen that particular car parked in the neighborhood before, so naturally they became suspicious. When nobody arrived to claim it after several hours, they became even more concerned. They explained how the dog tried to paw its way out, and then, how it would literally collapse, only to begin digging at the door again. They felt so sorry for the pooch. They gave exaggerated physical gestures to the Officer, illustrating how the dog moaned and whimpered and cried. Some of the strangest sounds they’d ever heard coming from an animal.

  “Have you contacted other neighbors concerning the dog, or the car?” the Officer asked, but they said “no.” They had lived in this particular complex for over fifteen years. They knew everything and anything that went on here. Older couples tended to be the “gatekeepers” of properties like this. Their main occupation after retirement, whether they chose to or not, was the comings and goings of their neighbors.

  Back at the car, the Officer tried reaching his hand through the slit in the window, but his arm was too thick. The dog was well-behaved. He seemed to have an understanding of what the Officer was attempting to do. Reardon retrieved his Emergency lock kit from the squad car. Many times, civilians locked their keys in their automobiles. They’d be on the beach, enjoying the day and forget. He saw it every day. The Officers were used to it so they came prepared.

  A curved metal wire, similar to a coat hanger usually did the trick. He guided the device through the opening of the window and attempted to catch the latch. He missed several times before finally snagging the ridge. It sprung with a pop. The door opened and the dog barreled out onto the street, his first priority, obviously was to pee. Which he did. In the parking lot, right next to the Officer’s boot. Then the dog did something very strange. He galloped up the curved pathway to a specific apartment complex. The 400’s. A halogen light illuminated the numbers against the dark brick façade. Then, the dog ran back to the car in full force, beckoning Officer Reardon to follow.

  What?

  He hurried after the dog, juggling his tool kit and flashlight in his hands. The dog stopped briefly at the door on the second level, 427, then barked and sniffed and did weird circles in the hallway. His first instinct was to press the doorbell, so that’s exactly what he did. He waited for an answer. Nothing. He kept his eyes on the dog. This particular breed was well known for their hunting ability as well as being highly regarded for their incredible sense of smell.

  He pressed the doorbell again, he even tried knocking. He noticed the dog at the other end of the corridor, running down the stairwell. So he followed. What else could he do?

  The dog galloped across the secluded grounds toward an area of neatly manicured trees surrounding the property. He turned back every so often to make sure the Officer could see him. The dog’s eyes turned white from the reflection in the flashlight.

  Hunger pains growled in his stomach as he stumbled down the stairwell and onto the trimmed lawn. He arrived at the edge of the property. The dog was howling and frantically digging at the soft dirt surrounding a huge oak tree. Using his flashlight, he moved in closer. The creature’s behavior was so erratic and so strange. He kept pulling at something with his teeth and whimpering. The sound he made was wretched.

  For Officer Reardon, it wasn’t the shock of finding a dead body that propelled him backwards off his feet, knocking him flat on his ass with a thud. It was the horrendous sight of seeing that body severed, cut up and mangled, joints and parts strewn across the dirt like a dissected animal. The picture sent shivers from the devil screaming up his spine. He scrambled to his feet, brushed off the wet dirt and grass from his butt and raced the short distance back to his squad car.

  8:02 PM

  52

  “She’s asleep.” Dan shut the bedroom door leaving Alexandra alone on his bed surrounded by a heap of pillows and blankets. Candlelight illuminated Sydia’s face.

  “She’s adorable. So alert. And smart.”

  “Guess I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.” Dan grabbed his glass of red wine from the kitchen table and moved to the sofa.

  “It feels comfortable enough.” Sydia circled the top of her wine glass with her finger before lifting it to her mouth for another sip. Seductively.

  “I’m used to it.”

  “C’mon, Detective, enough of the tortured husband routine.”

  Dan sat down on the sofa beside her, always the gentleman, always respecting space and boundaries. “You like the wine?”

  “Very much so.”

  Dan lifted the bottle to pour her more. “Merlot. California. Very smooth.” Sydia met him halfway with her glass.

  Dan attempted feeling com
fortable in his own home, increasingly aware of his awkwardness in Sydia’s presence.

  “I would love to take a trip back there one day. To California, that is…” Dan finished pouring from the bottle and set it back down on the coffee table. The traffic light outside changed colors. Red, yellow, then green. It measured the seconds of clumsy silence between them.

  “I’ve only visited once, myself. Southern California. Los Angeles. I interviewed for Med School out there. UCLA.”