He stared this way for a long time. Then he spit a glob into the water, and turned around. That was the most frightening part. When he stepped directly above. A single glance down, and he might see her.
She ducked her head below the water, and waited as long as she could, her lungs burning for air. When she felt she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, she came up.
Jessica couldn’t hear any movement on the pier or the shore, but decided to wait a while in the freezing water just the same.
21
Garcia had on his Kevlar vest with the words SEATTLE POLICE emblazoned across the back, a gold badge emblem over the heart. The SWAT team was point on this, but he had insisted he was going to be there, too. He had to see for himself. To know that someone he had been friends with for years was a monster.
The SWAT commander made a hand signal to his men and they swarmed around the home. Like an invading army of ants circling a crumb. Another signal was given at some point, though Garcia didn’t see what it was, and the battering ram crashed through the front door. A backdoor in the kitchen was also broken down and the men stormed in.
Garcia was right there with them. Gun first, he swept through the kitchen and into the rest of the house. He heard several shouts of “Clear!” and then the watch commander came into the living room where Garcia was standing.
“Nothin’, Detective.”
He nodded. “Thanks, Hank. It was a shot in the dark anyway.”
SWAT began to clear out and the forensics team Garcia had requested came in, search warrants in hand. Garcia had informed them it was unlikely the man was home, but to search anywhere and everywhere for anything that could lead them to him.
As the team went to work, sifting through garbage and the laptop on a desk in the corner, Garcia paced slowly around the house. Taking in every detail. It still hadn’t sunk in. The shock hadn’t worn off.
He ambled into the bedroom. A single bed, dresser, television. Nothing out of the ordinary. His closet had clothes that Garcia had seen half a dozen times. He’d once been over here for a Fourth of July barbeque. And now, he was here with a search warrant.
Garcia strolled through the rest of the house. Nothing out of place. Nothing that let on to what was inside the man. In fact, everything was too perfect. Too contrived. Like he wanted the entire home to seem normal but overshot it.
On the mantle was a photograph. Mark Curtis, the man he thought he knew, had his arm around a young woman. Garcia picked up the photo. He wondered where the woman was, and if she was even alive anymore. He put the photo back, and continued searching the house.
Garcia spent most of the morning at the home, with no luck. They didn’t find any printouts, addresses of storage units, or incriminating emails. They came up with absolutely nothing.
He sat in a chair in Mark’s office as the forensic techs did another sweep of the home. His head was pounding. He went into the bathroom and found some ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. The four tablets tumbled out of the bottle into his palm and he took them all at once and drank water out of the faucet. He looked at himself in the mirror. He saw a desperate man. A man that had lost something he didn’t even know he had or wanted, until it was gone. Even the thought of Jessica made his heart race. And the thought of her lying bloodied on some floor… it was too much to take.
“Detective,” Kiki, one of the techs, said.
“Yeah.”
“Sorry, nothing here.”
“I figured. Thanks for your help.”
“No problem. You want me to lock it up?”
“No, don’t worry about it. I’m going to have a couple units stationed nearby in case he comes back.”
He nodded. “Lemme know if you need anything else.”
Garcia followed the techs out to the porch. He sat on a wicker couch and watched them leave. There had to be something. Mark was a detective and knew how detectives thought. Knew what they would be looking for to retrace his steps. But there had to be something. Someone with arrogance like his had to have overlooked some link.
There were other cases Garcia could be working. This was technically now an Internal Affairs investigation since it involved an officer. But he was holding off on making the call to let them know. As soon as they knew, he would be taken off the investigation and would have no say in how it was conducted. A bureaucratic mess would ensue, and he knew Jessica didn’t have that kind of time.
He went through everything he knew about this case. The house was immaculate. Nothing happened here. He was too smart to bring his victims to his own house. Like with Michelle, he probably killed them in their own homes. But Jessica didn’t have a home here, so he’d have to find somewhere else to take her. Somewhere secluded where he could take his time. An abandoned building maybe. The surrounding forests of Washington State. Maybe even one of the dozens of caves near Mt. Rainer…
A thought hit him just then. This couldn’t have been the first time this situation arose. He would have to have a regular place to take them. Garcia pulled out his phone and dialed the number for the District Attorney’s Office for King County.
“District Attorney’s Office, how may I direct your call?”
“Paul Weiland, please.”
“Just a moment.”
A pause, and horrible hold music before a male voice came on the line. “This is Paul.”
“Paul, it’s Tommy Garcia. I need a subpoena as soon as possible.”
“For what?”
“Between us? No IAD yet?”
“Ew, this sounds juicy.”
“Mark Curtis, with MP. You know him?”
“Sure.”
“He’s the suspect in at least one homicide and kidnapping.”
“Whoa. Seriously? Mark? He’s such a nerd.”
“I need his bank statements. I think he’s got a house or a cabin he’s paying rent on. And the subpoena should be sealed. If IAD takes over I’m gonna get pushed out.”
“So? I figure you’d want to hand this over.”
“The person that was kidnapped… was important to me.”
“Oh, well. Alright, I’ll file it and keep it sealed for now.”
“Paul, the clock’s ticking.”
“I’ll do it right now. I promise.”
“Thanks.”
Garcia stood up and paced the length of the porch. He had to do something, anything. Just to keep in motion. But he couldn’t think of a single thing to do other than wait. And that was exactly what could end up getting Jessica killed.
22
Jessica came out of the water shivering. The lake was icy cold, but the water seemed clean. Untouched by pollution or contamination from too many people using it. She held her arms around herself as she hiked up the shore.
It was mostly quiet. The chirp of birds and an occasional hoot of some animal she didn’t recognize. The wind rustling the trees.
She looked in every direction. Green forest as far as she could see. One direction, as far as she was concerned, was as good as any other. She chose what she thought was east and began walking.
The pain in her feet, now cut and bleeding, and her wet clothes made her feel like she could pass out at any moment. The discomfort was intense. She debated stripping down, but being nude in a forest with that man after her wasn’t something she was about to do. She’d rather be cold.
The walk was long and she had to stop several times. Jessica would sit on grass, or just the trail if nothing else was available. She tried putting pressure on the cuts on her feet with leaves and the bleeding would stop for a while. But as soon as she started walking again, the pain and bleeding would start up.
As she came to a clearing, she saw something in the distance. A cabin. Despite the pain, she jogged to it. She was about fifty feet away when she realized to her horror it was the same cabin she had been brought to. She’d gone in a big circle.
“Trail doesn’t go anywhere but to the lake and back.”
She gasped and turned toward the voice. Mar
k Curtis stood with a rifle hanging off his shoulder, his thumb tucked underneath the leather strap.
“What do you want?” she said.
“Well I wanna hear you scream. Isn’t that obvious?”
She backed away, toward the cabin. “You killed Michelle.”
“Yeah, yeah, I did. Wish I could’ve made that one last a little bit longer. She was fun. I think she was actually into it until she saw the knife.”
“Why? What did she do to you to deserve that?”
“Nothing. I just saw her and followed her home.” He chuckled. “And isn’t that just the shit that I was the detective that caught her attempted kidnapping case? I thought she’d gotten away from me and there she was, showing me her apartment.”
Jessica looked around for a weapon. As long as she kept him talking, it bought her time. “How many have there been?”
“Total? Oh, wow, um, maybe thirty. Thirty-five maybe. You lose track after the first few. It’s like an ice cream cone I guess. The first lick is the best and each one is downhill from there. But I gotta say, it is gonna be fun with you. You got fire in you.” He smiled. “Now I like that.”
Jessica turned and dashed for the cabin. She didn’t hear the cock of the rifle. Glancing back, she saw he was casually strolling toward her. As though out on a leisurely walk.
She opened the door. It was unlocked. She closed it behind her and then pushed a sofa in front of it. She backed away until she hit a wall, and then listened. As her hands came up to move her hair out of her eyes, a boom echoed through the cabin that left her ears ringing. She screamed and fell to the floor. Another boom blew apart the window in the front room.
She crawled on her hands and knees to the bedroom and slammed the door. A closet, bathroom and a bed. She opened the closet door, quickly searching through it for anything she could use. Coat hangers were the only things even remotely useable.
Jessica untwisted one and then looked from the bed to the bathroom. The bathroom was small with just a shower and toilet. She shut the door behind her and turned off the light. Crouching down, she squatted next to the door, and listened.
It was quiet a long time. And then she heard the scraping noise of the sofa being moved, and the clomp of boots on hardwood floors. The boots went through the front room. The door to the bedroom opened with a creak. A few steps inside, and the boots stopped.
The flimsy wood from the bathroom door rained splinters down on her as he broke through it with the butt of his rifle. He struck again and another shower of wood as she screamed. He reached his arm through the hole in the door and unlocked it.
The sharp point of the hanger between her fingers, Jessica held her breath as she shot up. Her arm moved seemingly by itself. She was only dimly aware of what she was doing. Fear had completely numbed her.
The tip went into his eye. He yelped in pain. His head snapped back and the rifle fell out of his hands. Blood was pouring out of his eye and he was screeching like a wounded animal.
She jumped past him. But she only got a few steps before she felt a tug on her hair that shot pain through her head. He yanked her back and to the ground.
“Cunt!”
He straddled her and pulled out the knife.
“I’m gonna take my time with you.”
His stare suddenly went down to her right hand. Her finger was over the trigger of the rifle, the barrel lifted and pointing at him.
“No, don’t you—”
Jessica’s world went quiet except for a dull ringing in her ears. The rifle had jerked backward so hard, it felt like it tore her arm out of the shoulder socket. She was pretty sure her hand was broken, too.
Her vision was blurry and her nostrils burned with the smell of gunpowder. The ringing in her ears wouldn’t stop, but it slowly subsided and her hearing came back. She heard something outside. A car pulling up.
She rose, having to lean to the side. The rifle had swung into her and her ribs felt bruised. Mark Curtis lay on the floor, a hole through his belly. Black blood flowing out of him and pooling on the hardwood floors.
“You bitch,” he rasped. “You shot me. You fucking shot me.”
She limped past him and he reached for her, blood painted on his hands. He wrapped his fingers around her ankle. She pulled away violently, the pain in her ribs and arm firing through her like an electric current. Stumbling to the front door, she could see Garcia getting out of his car and running toward the cabin, gun drawn.
He ran to her and wrapped himself around her. She fell into his arms, completely and utterly. As though jumping from a height into a warm pool. He engulfed her. His touch and scent, the way he breathed and the thump of his heart against her chest. Gripping him tightly, her voice hardly a whisper, she said, “What took you so long?”
EPILOGUE
Thomas Garcia sat in his Mercedes and glanced to the restaurant. Something that had a foreign word as the name and described itself as fusion. A fusion of what, he couldn’t tell. It was a fitting place to do this.
He got out of the car and walked inside. The maître d’ tried to say something to him and he held up his badge and said, “Shh,” before walking past him and straight to her table.
Miriam was in a business suit, though she didn’t have a job. Garcia sat across from her without kissing her hello.
“You won’t believe the day I’m having,” she said. “Candice went out and—”
“I’m sorry, Miriam,” he interrupted, “it’s not working for me. I have to end it.”
“End what?”
“Our relationship.”
She scoffed. “Are you joking? That would never work. Your friends are my friends and my friends are your friends. It’d be a mess.”
“Your friends are not my friends. And any that are, you can have. I’m sorry.”
She paused. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” He took the engagement ring and placed it on the table.
“And you chose to do this at a restaurant?”
“I just wanted it done as quickly as possible.” He rose. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Before he could turn around, her glass of wine flew at him. It struck him in the chest, splashing the crimson fluid over his face and shirt. Everyone in the restaurant turned and looked at him. Normally, this might have been a humiliating situation. But he didn’t care. He was free.
He wiped some of the fluid away with a linen napkin that was on the table and said, “Take care of yourself,” before he walked out of the restaurant, and Miriam’s life.
Jessica sat on the beach. The waves rolled to shore and crackled against the sand and rocks. She was in a bathing suit with a sunhat and glasses. The weather was perfect; not too hot and not too cold. Before her in the surf, Garcia lifted Ruth and pretended to throw her into the waves. She squealed and laughed and tickled him to get away. He pretended to lose his grip and she ran off into the waves with her brother.
Garcia sauntered up the sand and fell next to her, his body slick with ocean water, his muscles rippling as he leaned over and kissed her.
“They’re good kids,” he said.
“They’ve had it rough. I hope they can get over the things they’ve seen.”
“People are stronger than you think.”
He kissed her again. She could taste him, smell the salt on his skin. His hands gripped her like vices and pulled her close.
“Mom,” Ruth shouted, “look at me.”
Jessica chuckled and looked to her daughter. She was riding on her brother’s back as a wave hit them and toppled them over.
Even a year ago, Jessica would not have pictured herself here. A man was an abstraction. Something she didn’t think she needed or wanted. But as Garcia took her hand and lay back on the sand, she felt an excitement and hopefulness she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
And there was no place in the world she would rather be.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
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Copyright 2013 Isabelle Ali
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License Statement
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy.
Please note that this is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All events in this work are purely from the imagination of the author and are not intended to signify, represent, or reenact any event in actual fact.
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