Wounds

by Alton Gansky

  “He’s not going to get on an active-duty military base. Our guy is camera shy. He couldn’t get past security, not without being seen.”

  “I don’t have answers for you, Detective. I’m just trying to be helpful. I could be wrong about all of this, but I’d regret not bringing it up, then learning I was right and important information could have been obtained.”

  “Much appreciated, Dr. Poe. Is there anything else?”

  Poe squirmed. “Not at the moment.”

  “You know, we never talked about whatever it was you came to the station to chat about.”

  Ellis’s face paled. “I got distracted by the crime time line you created. The connection to the Passion of Christ knocked me for a loop.”

  “I picked up on that. Well, I’m here now—”

  The door opened and two students entered. “I have another class.” He looked away.

  “It’s your choice, Professor. If it’s not important—”

  “I’m not saying that . . .” He ceased making eye contact.

  An odd thought rolled to the forefront of her mind. She lowered her voice. “You’re not going to ask me out, are you? Because—”

  “No. Of course not! Nothing like that.”

  She feigned shock. “Are you saying I’m not worth dating?”

  “No. I . . .” His pale face reddened. “I didn’t mean that either.”

  “Relax, Dr. Poe. I’m just giving you a bad time.” And testing your response. What are you hiding?

  “Look. We should talk. I need to talk. This class will run about an hour, then I have student appointments. After lunch, I have a short faculty meeting—”

  “You gave me your schedule on the phone. I wrote it down.”

  “How about four? Classes will be over by then. Do you want me to come to the station?”

  “Yes, I don’t want to have to drive up here again. So what . . . 4:30 or so?”

  “I’ll be there.” His red cheeks turned pallid.

  Carmen studied him for a few moments. He looked guilty.

  Very guilty.

  But about what?

  35

  The day passed in a contradictory way: fast and slow. At times it seemed as if the clock had stopped; at other times it seemed the hands of the clock were racing each other. It took all his mental energy just to get through his classes, consultations, and faculty meeting. His mind was a Ping-Pong ball in a tornado.

  His body had turned against him as well. His stomach cramped, released, then cramped again. The muscles in his chest constricted as if his suit coat were shrinking around him. He felt feverish, agitated, afraid—everything he felt the other day when he first attempted to tell Carmen what she had a right to know. Would he be able to follow through this time?

  The normal half-hour drive was taking longer. Traffic was already clogging the freeway arteries of the city. He couldn’t decide if he should be grateful.

  His mind alternated between concocting excuses why he shouldn’t do this and rehearsing what he was going to say. Mired in the sluggish traffic, he wondered if he would be sleeping in his own bed tonight or as the guest of the county jail.

  He tried to pray for courage, for wisdom, for direction, but his prayer life continued to be impotent. Normally prayer was his joy; now it seemed unfruitful. He had long ago lost respect for himself, but he always felt loved by God. He wasn’t so certain now. The spiritually warm feelings he had after his last visit to Carmen’s office had evaporated. Maybe God had lost respect for him because he once again failed to do right by poor Shelly. His theological mind argued against the supposition, but it lost the argument. Nothing can outshout the heart.

  He parked and removed the keys from the ignition. They jingled in his trembling hand. “No turning back now,” he said aloud. “Time to man up. Whatever comes of this, at least you’ll know you did the right thing.”

  Right thing. Twenty-eight years late.

  The walk from the parking lot was tough. Every five steps he fought the urge to turn around, return to his self-imposed exile, keeping the world at arm’s length, hiding in books and ancient texts.

  An officer escorted him to the homicide division, and he found Carmen and her team in the case room. They looked weary, worn, but determined.

  “Hey, Professor,” Bud said.

  “Hello.” Ellis stepped into the room. This time he avoided the wall of grisly photos and facts.

  “You had a couple of good ideas.” Bud sat at the conference table. “We’re running down leads on the crown of thorns thing. We’ve also alerted all the military bases and sites about the situation and asked them to up their security. More eyes means a greater possibility of seeing something . . . You okay?”

  “Yes. Of course. Why?” Ellis hadn’t been able to look at Carmen.

  “’Cuz you look like you’re ready to blow chunks again.”

  “No. I’m fine. Just tired.”

  Hector chortled. “I hear that, Doc.”

  Ellis lifted his head then did the impossible. He looked at Carmen. She seemed able to read his mind.

  “Give us the room, guys. The professor and I have to chat over a couple of things.”

  They exchanged glances but didn’t speak. The team left like children being led to the playground, closing the door after them.

  “He’s right, you know.” Carmen set some papers on the conference room desk. “You look like you might need to hurl. Shall I show you to the ladies’ room?”

  “Funny.” He looked at his shoes then back at Carmen.

  “You wanna sit?”

  “No. I think I’d better stay on my feet.” He cleared his throat. “You may have noticed that I’m a bit of a loner, a little timid, and in general, not all that strong. Truth is, I’m only a few short strides from being a hermit.”

  “Sounds like you’re being rough on yourself.” Carmen moved to a chair and pulled it from the table. “We are what we are, Doc. We can’t all be the same.”

  “Well, there’s a reason for my reticence.” He sucked in a lungful of air. “I want to talk about your sister. There’s something you should know. Need to know.”

  “My sister?” Her face hardened and she stepped back from the chair—apparently the idea of sitting had fled. “How’d you know about the connection? We haven’t talked about it outside this building.”

  “What?” Ellis’s mind shuddered to a stop. “Connection. This doesn’t have anything to do with the—” He noticed two new photos on the wall. These were not of bodies, for which he was thankful. One was a photo of Carmen and Shelly when they were young, and one was a photo of some odd writing on a mirror. He noticed Carmen’s name. He shook his head. Tempted as he was to ask about the photos, he had determined not to get distracted like last time. If he did, then he would never be able to muster enough courage to give this a third try.

  “You’re confusing me, Professor.”

  “Look. Let me get this out. If I don’t do it now, I may never be able to do it.” Another deep breath. “In 1985, I was a senior at Madison High School. I worked nights at McDonald’s in Pacific Beach. I was returning home . . .”

  Bud paused a few steps down the hall and turned his attention back to the conference room door. “That was strange.”

  Hector and Joe Heywood stopped a few steps farther on. Hector shrugged. “Maybe Carmen’s got a thing for the professor, or vice versa.”

  “Ha, that’d be stranger still.” Bud screwed up his lips. “No, something else is going—”

  An angry voice escaped the confines of the case room. A voice filled with venomous curses. Then came a wet sounding thud, a grunt, and finally the sound of something hitting the wall.

  Bud was moving before his next breath. He barged into the room, Hector and Joe on his heels. He stopped
two steps in. Dr. Ellis Poe lay on his back staring at the ceiling, a large red mark spreading up the left side of his jaw. He looked half a step from being out cold.

  Carmen stood a couple of feet back from the supine form of the seminary professor. She shook her right hand, repeatedly contracting her fingers into a fist then releasing them. Bud didn’t need an explanation. Carmen had cold-cocked the professor. What he didn’t know was why.

  “You son of—” She started for Ellis again.

  Bud didn’t think; he just acted. He wrapped his arms around her middle and picked her up, her feet kicking at the semiconscious man. “No, you don’t.”

  “Let me go. I’m gonna finish him!”

  “No you’re not.” He carried her to the opposite wall. He set her feet on the floor but pinned her against the wall, his forearm spanning her shoulders and just below her neck. He muffled her mouth with his other hand. “Stop.”

  Carmen fought back with surprising strength and fury. Her eyes blazed. Then came the kick to the thigh. Fire raced up his leg into his belly, but he refused to let go.

  “I think I’ll just shut this door,” Hector said.

  Bud turned his head to the side. “Joe, take a post outside the door. No one gets in. Clear?”

  “Got it.”

  “Hector, check on our guest.”

  “Already doing that.”

  Bud leaned into Carmen. She had become a wild woman, and he endured several more knees to his legs. At least she wasn’t trying to ruin his ability to have children in the future. “It’s over, Carmen. Relax. I’m trying to help you.”

  She struggled again but with less strength.

  “Trust me, kid. I’m trying to save your career. Chill. When you do, I’ll let you go, and then you can tell me why you’ve suddenly lost your mind.”

  He could hear her sucking air in through her nostrils. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were flooded with tears.

  “He’s coming around,” Hector said. “Doesn’t appear hurt too bad, but the swelling in his jaw tells me he’ll be on a soft-food diet for a while.

  The fury in Carmen’s eyes faded, replaced by sadness. Then Bud saw something he had never seen before: Carmen weeping. He took her in his arms and held her as she dissolved into sobs that broke his heart.

  Voices from the hallway pressed through the walls and door. He recognized Joe’s. “What? In there? Nope, no problem. Just a private meeting. Everything is fine. Hey, how ’bout them Padres?”

  Captain Darrel Simmons sat behind his desk, glowering. His black face had darkened, his eyes, often stern, looked like bits of flint. Carmen had seen him angry before, but always at someone else. She didn’t like being in his crosshairs.

  Someone alerted Simmons to the problem in the case room. He had charged into the place like a one-man SWAT team. Joe Heywood had been willing to keep others out, but no one was keeping Simmons at bay. He had a reputation for kicking uncooperative detectives out of homicide, most of whom ended up writing parking tickets for a year or so. A few minutes later he ordered Carmen and Poe to his office.

  “Close the door.” It wasn’t a request.

  Carmen started to do as ordered when Bud Tock entered. “Sorry, sir.”

  “I don’t recall inviting you in here.” Simmons rose to his feet.

  “You didn’t, sir, it’s just—”

  “Get out. If I want you I’ll call for you.”

  “But, sir—”

  “Having trouble with English these days, Detective Tock?”

  “No, sir. I . . . Yes, sir.” He turned and slipped from the office like a scolded child.

  Simmons looked at Carmen. “Sit.”

  She did without a word. Her heart continued to pound so hard she could hear it. Adrenaline. The captain turned his attention to Ellis Poe. “Dr. Poe. Please have a seat.”

  Like Carmen, he sat without a word. The left side of his head had swollen, giving the academic a lopsided chipmunk look. She second-guessed her decision to use a fist instead of an open-hand slap. Still she couldn’t conjure up enough pity to feel sorry for the man. As far as she was concerned, the man needed more hitting.

  Simmons stared through the glass wall at the front of his office. Carmen turned to see half the division looking back at her. When they noticed the captain’s gaze, they diverted their eyes. Several left the bullpen.

  Slowly Simmons lowered himself into his seat. “All right, Detective, let’s hear it, and I want it fast and accurate.”

  “I can explain,” Ellis began.

  “I’m not talking to you, Dr. Poe. You’ll get your turn.”

  Carmen waited a moment to see if Simmons would spontaneously combust. Unfortunately, he didn’t. “I lost my temper. I—”

  “Sir—” Ellis began.

  “Poe, I told you I’d get to you later—”

  “No, you’ll hear me now. I don’t work for you. At the moment, I’m a free citizen, although that may change soon.”

  A spine? Now the man grows a spine. Carmen’s fury increased.

  Poe continued. “I saw Detective Rainmondi’s sister killed.”

  Simmons blinked several times, his head swiveling back and forth between them. “You what?”

  Ellis explained again, and Carmen was forced to listen to the description one more time. She closed her eyes and focused on controlling her temper. A few moments later, Ellis finished. “You see, Captain, I had it coming, and much more.”

  “Why now? Why tell her now?”

  Ellis leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I can’t live with it anymore, Captain. When Detective Rainmondi came to my office a few days ago, I was caught off guard. I didn’t know what to do. I froze. I’m good at that. I had been keeping this secret so long, and then she walks through my door. It’s almost thirty years later, but I could sense that the event changed her, continued to hurt her like it has changed and tormented me.”

  That was too much! “Tormented you?” Carmen snapped. “Really? Torment? You don’t know what torment is.”

  “That’s enough, Detective.” Simmons voice had lost some of its edge.

  “Not by a long shot, Captain.” Carmen felt the volcanic rage near the surface again. “I should have hit you harder. I would have if you didn’t hit the ground so quick—”

  “ENOUGH!” Simmons’s voice rattled the windows. He took several deep breaths before speaking again. “Dr. Poe, I have nothing good to say to you. Your unwillingness or inability to notify the police of what you saw let a killer get away with a murder.” He sighed. “I’m in a bind here. On one hand I have an officer who, by her loss of composure, has opened this department to legal action on your part. On the other hand, I’m having trouble not sympathizing with my detective. What a mess.”

  “There will be no legal action on my part, and if I am to be arrested—”

  “Why would you be arrested? There’s no law that says you have to testify. Did you remove evidence or do anything to impede the investigation?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then your crime is one of cowardice and stupidity. However, Dr. Poe, you have the right to swear out a complaint against Detective Rainmondi for assault and battery since she injured you for personal reasons.”

  “I won’t do that.”

  “That is your choice, but since I’m such a straight shooter I need to advise you to seek the advice of an attorney.”

  “No, sir. I won’t be doing that either.”

  Simmons leaned over the desk and addressed Carmen. “Does he know about the lipstick?”

  “Not from me. I think he saw the photos in the case room.” She couldn’t look at Ellis. Every time she did, she had the urge to throw a few more punches.

  The captain turned an icy gaze on Ellis. “Do you k
now who killed Carmen’s sister?”

  “No. I don’t know him.”

  “Here’s something else you don’t know. The serial killer we’re tracking may be the same man. You think about that, Dr. Poe. You think long and hard. Your witness testimony might have helped solve that case. If so, then we might not be trying to track down this guy today.” He explained about the lipstick message. “Kinda makes a man wonder how many other people are in the grave because this guy has been running around for . . . thirty years!”

  Ellis seemed to deflate even more.

  Someone knocked on the door. Simmons snapped his head up, then relaxed a bit. He waved the visitor in.

  “Here ya go, Cap.”

  Simmons took the files. “This is Detective Donovan from missing persons. His captain told me there had been several missing persons, possible abductions. I asked to see the files just in case they might be related.” He opened the folders. “That’ll be all, Donovan—Wait. These are all women.”

  “Yes, sir.” Donovan looked young and inexperienced. “Does that matter?”

  “All our victims are male and were killed the same day they were taken. Some of these have been missing days, and we have no bodies.” He flipped through the pages. “One known prostitute, a woman in her fifties, another woman. I don’t think they’re related to what we’re doing.” He handed the files back. “Thanks anyway.”

  “No prob.”

  “Close the door on the way out, Detective.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Wait.” Ellis sat up. He tilted his head. “The abductions are recent? And one is a prostitute?”

  “You got it,” Donovan said.

  “What are you thinking, Poe?” Simmons said.

  Carmen watched the professor. He had the same look when he first saw the photos of the victims. His brain must be trying to make connections again.

  Ellis raised his head. “Are any of them named Mary?”

  Donovan stared at him. “How did you know that? Two of them are named Mary.”