by Jordan Jones
Kay let out another scream and Brooks waved his gun towards her, “You are not involved in what’s happening here, Mrs. Maise. You really need to keep it down.”
Philip swung around and fell to his side, looking right at the barrel of the gun. “I have a safety deposits box filled with thousands of dollars. It’s all yours. Please take it…just let us go.”
Brooks walked over to the ashtray on the coffee table and took a drag from Philip’s cigarette and put it back.
“I don’t think you’re fully grasping what’s going on here, Mr. Maise,” Brooks said as he walked closer. “I’m here to right some wrongs. These are specific wrongs you’ve perpetrated and haven’t quite made right.”
“I want to make it right. Please let me know how to make it right.”
Kay let out another whimper from the kitchen again and it was starting to agitate Brooks. He pictured this scenario going a different way, with Kay by his side, pointing the gun down at Philip. She seemed to be taking his side and looked very scared.
“You’re time to make it right has long passed,” Brooks explained. “It looks like I have to do it for you.”
The front door crashed open and a man in a long trench coat drew his gun at Brooks, but Brooks fired a shot, catching the man in the neck and he fell in the doorway, gasping for breath.
“No!” Brooks screamed and ran at the man. He pulled him the rest of the way in the house and saw his badge in his hand. He hadn’t ID’d himself, but it was obvious he was a police officer by his suit jacket and oversized fedora.
Brooks covered the man’s throat with his hand and faced Kay, who was still screaming in the kitchen. “Get me a towel!”
She ran to Brooks and helped put pressure on his neck. She threatened to call an ambulance, but Brook slammed her phone on the ground, breaking it in several pieces.
For the first time in several weeks, Brooks felt nervous. He was supposed to have a grand homecoming, but it was quickly falling apart. He was worried another officer was outside making their way in so he scanned the door.
Nothing.
The officer was gurgling and coughing up blood and Kay was still panicking.
“You need to call him an ambulance!” Philip had made his way closer to Brooks.
After pulling him back, Brooks said: “You are in no position to say a word. I’m in charge here.”
Kay pressed her blood-soaked hand on the man’s throat until he gave his final breath. Brooks placed his fingers interlocked behind his head and breathed in the situation before him.
He knelt down next to the officer and performed CPR as Kay screamed in fear. Philip yelled something from the floor, but Brooks couldn’t make any of it out. He yelled at the officer below him to wake up. The officer wasn’t his target…just a bystander.
It was different than before. Brooks had to give the detectives a warning, but this was final.
There was no turning back.
He hadn’t perpetrated a sexual offense…none that Brooks was aware of and this went against everything Brooks wanted. The chest compressions were useless and the man was still on the floor.
The fallout from the cries echoed in Brooks’ brain and his legs shook.
The noise no doubt raised concern with neighbors and Brooks had to make his way out of the trailer before the police arrived. What an embarrassment that would be to be caught in such a sacred place.
It couldn’t be for nothing.
Brooks raised his gun in Philip’s direction from across the room and emptied his clip.
Kay screamed again, but Brooks was already outside running across the street and crashing into his car.
It hit him on the short drive home what had just happened. Bloodied hands sat idle on the steering wheel as he sat in the driveway, directly in front of his garage. He was less concerned over the evidence left behind and more concerned about killing someone outside his scope and so impulsively.
Angela clearly sided with the perpetrator, and Brooks was convinced she may have perpetrated an offense herself, but this cop was in no way linked to Brooks.
Brooks felt Madison in the backseat.
She wasn’t happy like he had hoped.
Philip was dead, but the scene was messy. Not to mention, a cop was now dead and the investigation would be even more intense.
Kay had seen his face and she would tell the police what he looked like and sounded like. Brooks slammed his hands on the steering wheel and let out a cry, making his face turn red in the process.
Madison sat quiet in the backseat, her disappointed stare peering through the darkness. He had one chance. Half of him wanted to go back and finish Kay off just to keep his identity secretive, but thought better of it. Kay would talk, but he would live with the consequences.
She was the mother.
She had to live.
Brooks went inside and took a shower; the blood washed off him and went down the drain, never to be seen again. He felt better afterward and made plans to clean his car early the next morning before work. He couldn’t miss work. He couldn’t do anything out of the ordinary that would raise suspicion, so he’d have to go about his day.
He thought about his office and how much evidence is plastered all over the walls. Madison. Philip. Kay. The necklace.
How stupid could he be?
That’s it…after work he would take everything back home and re-produce the shrine in his basement. He had no other choice. His impulses would have to change or he would be caught, and in order for the vile to face their truest punishment, he’d have to take better precautions.
He’d have to be a part of society. He’d have to be like everyone else and act like it was OK if the vile walked among us.
He’d have to turn into the one thing that he never dreamt he’d have to.
Brooks would have to become like those he despised
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Trotter…Trotter get up,” the voice rang raspy from the other line. The clock said a quarter after midnight; the cabin was pitch black except for the porch light, which allowed the officers to see the front door with ease.
I looked at my phone and saw it was LT Anderson calling.
“I’m here, Lieutenant,” I said, trying my best to sound wide-awake.
“Go to the Maise house immediately. There have been shots fired and I’m on my way now.”
I sprung up and got dressed in a hurry and the following twenty minutes were a blur. The officers outside waved me on as I passed them, so they must’ve been tipped off as if they knew something I didn’t.
The stars shown in the sky and the moon was completely cut in half, cascading what little light it had down on us. It did little to aid my erratic driving through the winding roads. The closer I got, the more the clouds threatened to unleash fury on us.
Lights could be seen through the trees the closer I got to the trailer park.
Sirens cut through the night, unintentionally forcing neighbors out of their homes and onto their front lawns. A woman ushered her children back in their trailer as the father stood on their wooden porch with binoculars, calling out his sightings to his family.
I turned to make it down the narrow gravel road to the Maise’s, but too many emergency vehicles congested the way. I parked in an empty lot, grabbed my trench coat, and made my way down.
A patrolman radioing in a disturbance on his CB sat with his door open.
“What’s going on here?” I asked, looking around for Abraham or LT Anderson.
“Hey Detective…all I know is that forensics is on their way. You’re Lieutenant is already at the residence.”
I stormed past the officer and walked near the trailer where officers were hastily wrapping crime scene tape around the porch and area trees.
“Detective!” A uniformed officer hollered from behind me. “Detective, we have the coroner on her way now. This scene is yours. We have a resident in distress, but we have the psychologist on the phone now trying to get her assessed and c
alm.”
I nodded and made my way under the tape and onto the enclosed porch.
The door was ajar and I peered in to see LT Anderson and Harlow standing over one body on the floor right inside the door and another behind them about eight feet blasted with bullets.
“Woah, John!” LT Anderson halted me before I could step in. “Take a step back.”
“Where’s Abraham,” I said as calmly as I could. “Where’s DeAngelo Abraham, Sir?”
I could see past LT on the floor. The bloody scene was as chaotic as I’ve seen it, but I could tell the man lying down had an agency issued trench coat.
His hand was an African American hand…and Abraham was the only African American man working as a detective in several counties wide.
“Please…John. Take a breath.”
It couldn’t be…
The scene revolved in my mind over and over again, though I only saw a glimpse for a fraction of a second. My training allowed me to access parts of the crime scenes that were still unseen…but it was a curse.
“Is that — is that Abraham?” My voice started to shake. “Tell me, Lieutenant! Is that Abraham on the floor with all that blood?”
He placed his hands on my trembling shoulders and gave me a pathetic glance and an even more pathetic nod.
“Somebody do something!” I screamed from the porch. “Someone get in there and revive him! EMS, we need you. Get him loaded up and taken to St. John’s now!”
The emergency team stood helplessly on the front lawn next to what remained of Madison’s memorial, many of them trying to keep distracted.
“What are you all doing? Get inside and help this man out!”
“John — “ LT Anderson said from behind me. “We’re getting the coroner here to pronounce these deaths. He’s gone, John.”
Tears burst out of my eyes as I kept from trying to hold them back. My legs shook and my breathing became uncontrollable. The contents of my stomach almost found its way onto the Maise lawn when I fell to my knees. The rain felt cold against my skin, my fedora doing little to keep each droplet from invading.
An EMS worker came over to offer comfort, but it wouldn’t matter. Abraham’s body was visible from where I knelt, blood covered the floor all around him. There looked to be draglines from the blood all the way from the doorway to where he was.
I couldn’t stop being a detective.
The other male was undoubtedly Philip Maise who was to be released earlier today.
The Sparrow knew he would come back home, even though Kay told us she wanted nothing more to do with him.
The coroner showed no emotion as she ascended the steps and walked in the doorway. She had a quick conversation with Lieutenant and checked the pulses of both men. She wrote something down in a small notebook and handed it to her assistant. She then descended the stairs and back into the car from which she came.
LT Anderson approached me and looked away, trying not to draw any more attention to the situation.
“He was shot in the neck. He bled out.”
I nodded, still unable to keep from silently sobbing. The pain from my shoulder crept back without any foreshadowing, sending searing pain up and down my side.
“Kay said the killer tried to save his life — like he didn’t mean to shoot him or something.”
“He did, Sir. He shot him and now he’s dead.”
“I know. I know it. She said Abraham busted in the door while he had Philip tied up on the floor. Abraham didn’t have time to react before The Sparrow fired a shot. It spooked him into shooting.”
The Sparrow.
The Phoenix.
I couldn’t bring myself to label him anything other than ‘Monster.’
“Kay said The Sparrow freaked out and just unloaded his gun into Philip and ran.”
My throat was closed, so I tried my best to clear it before I could speak. “Did she mention what she was doing back at an active crime scene?”
“Not yet,” LT Anderson said. “Her husband died right before her eyes. I don’t think it’s the right time for that.”
“It was the right time for her to lead this killer back to her house that we were investigating, apparently,” I said, my voice raised. “She had to have known with the connection between her daughter and The Spar — this killer, that there’s no way she should have been here…let alone on the day Philip gets out of prison.”
“She wasn’t thinking, John.”
Neither was DeAngelo. He had rushed in the home Rambo-style and didn’t bother asking for backup. He had to of known it was The Sparrow inside the home, tying Philip up like a dog. Waving his gun around like a lunatic.
Then again, if I hadn’t been so persistent to keep the Maise case open, the trailer wouldn’t have been an active crime scene under surveillance.
It was hard not to place the blame on my own shoulders, but I wouldn’t vocalize it. I would keep it buried far beneath the surface, much like the constant depression and self-doubt.
“Can I at least see the crime scene?” I asked. “This is still my case. I need to investigate it.”
“John, I don’t think — “
“I need to,” I interrupted.
Without an answer I made my way back up the stairs and through the front door, the blood streak already drying on the carpet. I took out my voice recorder as the rest of the room went silent.
“Victim A was shot in the left side of his throat in the doorway and collapsed.” I choked up a little bit, and continued. “Perpetrator pulled him to the center of the room and Victim C indicated perpetrator attempted life-saving methods unknown to this detective at this time. After failed resuscitation, perpetrator stood up and took a few steps as indicated by the bloody footprints. It was a short time after, likely seconds, that he fired what looks like at least eight rounds at Victim B who was lying adjacent to everyone else in the room, striking him at least five times.”
I walked over to the lifeless Philip Maise. His first day free would be his last. Blood came from his mouth and his eyes were shut tight. He likely shut them soon before death because he didn’t want to see what was coming.
“Two rounds struck his chest…one in his abdomen, and two near the groin. I count at least three other rounds surrounding the body; one in the wall behind and two in the floor in front. Victim C was unharmed by perpetrator, but extensive psychological testing would likely be needed if we are to gain any semblance of evidence.”
I stood up and looked over the violent scene once again. He had stumbled and I knew it. The Sparrow was finally afraid of himself and what he was capable of. Kay’s witness testimony would only solidify that.
His shooting of an officer would only bring down more hell on his head.
The room started its normal investigative hustle and bustle once I pushed stop on the recorder. I knelt down next to Abraham’s body. His face was still clear. He didn’t look afraid now, but I wondered what he thought when he walked through the door and a bullet struck his neck.
His neck had compression marks over it, so deep I could make them out through the blood.
The Sparrow was really trying to save him. He really was losing it. He showed remorse for what he did, and this opened new doors.
The botched scene before me, as horrifying as it was, displayed the madness of a man who had no aim.
Someone completely clueless.
His armor now had chinks in it.
He was in trouble.
The mistakes would only begin to start piling up for The Sparrow and I would find him.
Benjamin and his team began their work on the house, collecting DNA and samples from the victims’ bodies, especially Abraham’s, who had handprints all over him. The smoldering cigarette butt Kay said Philip had puffed still sat in the ashtray.
Abraham’s head was slightly cocked to the side and I thought I could see the sides of his mouth curl upwards. He was happy wherever he was.
I wanted to speak to him, but I couldn’t find the wor
ds. People around stopped conversing and looked down at me again, knowing full well me being there could jeopardize the case.
My emotions would veil important aspects of the investigation…or so they thought. I knew full well I wanted to be on the case more than anything. There was no doubt in my mind I needed to catch this guy. We were right where he was only hours earlier.
I walked out of the trailer and went down the steps back out into the night. LT Anderson told me to go home and get some rest, that Welker and Harlow would spearhead the investigation for a few days so I could get my head right.
My steps seemed sluggish and paralyzed, but I pressed on. The rain seemed to calm, but the storm continued to rage within the clouds above. Crashes of thunder only added to the solemn occasion, drowning out the sound of wailing sirens of officers who’ve arrived too late, much like myself.
The Charger hummed down the side streets of Lincolnshire and I looked through the window into the darkness outside. I wasn’t sure what I thought I would find, but that didn’t deter me. I knew The Sparrow was still awake and was probably washing my partner’s blood off him as I drove.
The thought killed me and smashed me to bits, like a thousand pieces of shattered glass.
I hoped he would sleep well, because I wouldn’t.
I would be hunting him, and this time I wouldn’t stop.
Chapter Thirty
Saturday mornings were the best part of Brooks’ week. The coffee was overflowing from his Keurig into his favorite mug and the rest splattered onto the floor, causing him to jump as he came downstairs dressed in a short-sleeve button-up tucked into nice pressed slacks.
Brooks had no plans for today. He wanted to be like everyone else.
“Darling, did you hear about the Red Sox? They started spring training this week.” Brooks faced the sink where he pictured a wife would be, washing dishes after the children finished their breakfast. The sink was littered with actual dishes and no one was at the sink, of course.
He had to pull it off. The scanner next to the door sang out a choir early in the morning about last night. The police communicating did so in code, but Brooks had it pulled up on his computer to help him decipher what they were saying.
