by James Hunt
Cooper looked back to the television screen, where Hart had returned to pounding the Plexiglas, his breath fogging the transparent walls as he screamed until his face turned red. She knew he’d betrayed her, even broken the law trying to help Farnes, but she wasn’t doing this for him. Hell, she wasn’t even doing it for herself. It was for his child, and the innocence of youth.
“I’ve never had that.”
The killer furrowed his brow in confusion. “Had what?”
“Peace.” Cooper stiffened and lifted her chin. “I assume you’ll have me bleed out?”
The killer nodded. “It will be your last moment of suffering.” He stepped closer, and Cooper heard the footsteps and shouts of the officers upstairs, but she kept her eyes locked on the killer until she felt the tip of the revolver against her stomach. “Goodbye, Detective.”
Three gunshots rang out, but Cooper only felt the first. The second and third were like throwing ice on frostbitten skin. She collapsed to the floor, clutching her stomach. She felt cold and warm all at once, and then she tasted the metallic tang of blood on her tongue. Her breaths grew short and she felt her heart beat wildly in her chest, her mind swirling in pain and exhaustion.
But amid the chaos of death, she saw that same picture in her head that the killer had described in her father’s story. She was in the park with Beth, and the two were on the swings. She felt the warm sun on her face and heard the high-pitched giggle that was her sister’s laugh. She felt the swing’s old rusted chains on her palms, and she saw her mother on the park bench, smiling, holding the hand of a man with a face that belonged to Henry Miller. That memory wasn’t something the killer had made up. It was real, and it was the only time in her life that she’d had a family. A whole family.
She tilted her head to the side, no longer able to feel the floor beneath her. Her eyes caught the sight of the officers descending the stairs, screaming something, though she couldn’t hear them. The killer stepped into her line of sight, placing his hands on his head and dropping to his knees. She closed her eyes, hoping she’d get back to the swings with Beth soon.
Chapter 13
Janet Kimmings adjusted her shirt collar and checked her hair in the mirror one last time. She exhaled a short breath and closed her eyes, clutching the counter’s edge. The door to her dressing room opened, and a PA with a headset around his neck popped inside. “You’re on in sixty.”
“Thanks.” Kimmings waited for the door to be shut and then nodded her head, talking to herself. “You can do this. It’s just another report.” She stepped out of the dressing room, her heels clacking against the black production floor, and eyed the anchor desk, where the two evening news reporters were already stationed.
“You all right, Janet?” Beverly asked, checking through her notes.
“Yeah,” Kimmings answered, letting one of the PAs check the mic on her lapel. Her stomach was a bundle of nerves as she watched the showrunner count down to zero and the Channel Four News intro appear on the screen, after which the camera was on Beverly.
“Good evening,” Beverly said. “Tonight we have a special news report on the Baltimore Scribe, who has now been identified as Edward Calburry. Calburry has confessed to nearly three hundred murders over the past thirty years, which makes him the deadliest serial killer of all time. His most recent victims brought him into the national spotlight, which called in the resources of the FBI and the Maryland State Police, as well as local city and county officers. And while Calburry’s trial will surely be a quick and tumultuous affair, as he has already confessed to all of those murders and provided detailed accounts through journals, or what he described as ‘novels,’ tonight’s story is on the opposite side of the law.” Beverly pivoted to another camera, and Kimmings tensed. “Veteran homicide detective Adila Cooper was thrust into the national spotlight when Calburry kidnapped her sister, Beth Hamilton, a former Baltimore native who lived in San Francisco with her husband and two children, who died in surgery due to complications from a gunshot wound she received from Calburry just moments before rescue. For more on that story, we now bring in Janet Kimmings. Janet, what can you tell us about Detective Cooper?”
The lights were hot at the desk, but Kimmings kept her composure. “Well, we all knew Cooper’s name from a few years back when she testified against her partner, who was arrested under corruption and racketeering charges. Detective Cooper also accused then-Maryland Governor Quentin Farnes, along with his brother, Baltimore Police Captain Jonathan Farnes, of being at the helm of a number of gambling, drug-dealing, and money-laundering operations throughout the city.”
The camera flipped back to Beverly. “That’s right. In addition to catching Edward Calburry, Detective Cooper’s investigation also brought a federal case against Quentin Farnes, which the FBI is handling right now.”
Kimmings nodded. “I actually had a chance to sit down with Detective Cooper in the heat of her investigation when she was falsely charged with the murder of Captain Jonathan Farnes.”
“Which is something I think we’re all eager to watch. Let’s have a look.”
The lights dimmed slightly, and Cooper’s face appeared on the screen. She sat in a chair, her hair disheveled and her face distorted with fatigue. Kimmings remained off camera, asking questions. “Can you state your name for the record?”
Cooper cleared her throat and crossed her arms. “Adila Cooper.”
“Thank you. So let’s start with why you wanted to meet with me.”
Cooper stared at Kimmings, who was just out of frame. “Because people need to hear the truth.”
“And what truth is that? That you’re innocent?”
The camera zoomed in on Cooper’s face, her eyes so focused you’d never guess that she hadn’t slept in days. “No, I’m not innocent. I kidnapped Captain Farnes. I beat him. But I didn’t murder him. That was the serial killer. He’s played me. He’s played all of us.”
“So, you’re denying the allegations of the death of both Captain Farnes and the detective you shot outside the bar that acted as one of Quentin Farnes’s money laundering locations?”
Cooper remained stoic and paused before answering. “No. I killed Detective Hall. I am guilty on that charge. I could argue self-defense, but…” She trailed off and waved her hand in the air absentmindedly. “I don’t know how this is all going to play out for me in the end. I mean...” She scrunched her face as if she were searching for answers to questions that hadn’t been asked. “That’s why I called you.”
“What did you want to say, Adila?” Kimmings asked. “What do you want us to know?”
Cooper straightened out in her chair, lifting her chin. “With over twenty years on the police force I’ve seen all kinds of murders and suspects. Within people is a gruesome violence that can surface at any moment. Luckily, most people never expose that evil. And even when they do it’s quick, a moment of passion and hate.” She bit her lower lip and shook her head. “But what I’ve seen with this killer, what he’s been able to do has been beyond passion. Beyond hate. Beyond whatever primal sense of evil that dwells within people. He is the evolution of evil. Calculated. Intelligent. Motivated.” She let out a sigh and rubbed her forehead until it shone a bright red. “Up until now I’ve been able to stop killers within the laws of the land. But I can’t do that with him. He’s beyond laws, beyond justice. And everything I’ve done, and will do, to stop him was my choice. The killer may have picked me for something, but I chose to chase him.” She nodded, her eyes focused somewhere off camera. “That’s what I want people to know. I chose to do it my way. All the way to the end.”
“Detective,” Kimmings said, “what about the rest of your family? What will they think when they see this?”
Cooper paused. “I hope they understand. It may take some time for them to get there, but I hope they will see why I had to do all of this. I want them to have peace.” The soft hum of the microphone over the audio filled the silent gaps between Cooper’s stretches of silence. �
��I don’t want them to hurt anymore, I don’t want them to wonder whether or not the man who killed their mother and wife is still out there. That kind of fear can cripple a person. And I won’t let that happen to them. Ever.”
“But now you’re a wanted criminal, wanted for murder. Just like the man you’re chasing. Your former peers are hunting you. Your legacy as a detective has been tarnished.”
The corner of Cooper’s mouth twitched, almost as if she were going to smile, but stopped. “My legacy was always tarnished. There is less than a handful of people in the department who know me, the real me, and those people don’t need any convincing about what I’ve done. Everyone else can go to hell.”
The screen went blank and the studio lights turned back on, the camera panning to a wide shot of both Kimmings and Beverly, who spoke first. “I’m sure it must have been a powerful moment for you to be speaking with her at that time.”
“I’d met Detective Cooper before, a few days prior to that taping. Out of all the officers I’ve ever interviewed, or even met really”—Kimmings pointed off screen as if Cooper was there—“she was the badge. The law. And the law is balance. And despite what happened, what she did, she returned a balance to our city that it hasn’t seen in decades.”
“But she broke the law to do it. Doesn’t that negate the line she walked for so long?” Janet asked.
“What Calburry had done, the number of lives he claimed, and the way he claimed them, it transcended anything we’ve known or seen before.” Kimmings shook her head. “Detective Cooper was right. The law couldn’t fight that. So she went beyond the law. She did what needed to be done.”
“Well, one thing is for certain: that the hundreds of families on whom the killer inflicted pain and harm can now find peace knowing their loved ones’ murderer will soon be behind bars. And wherever you land on the debate, I think we can all agree everyone is a little bit safer now that the Baltimore Scribe is off the streets. Janet, thanks for stopping by.”
“Thank you.” The program cut to commercial, and Kimmings walked off set. A few of the workers slapped her on the back in congratulations, followed by a slow clap. “Thanks, everyone.” She disappeared back into her dressing room and changed. She had a funeral to attend.
***
Bodies dressed in black stood between the rows of headstones in the cemetery. Lacy veils covered faces, and heads were downturned in respect and grief. The casket was raised above the open grave below, and a rifle team fired off twenty-one rounds as an American flag was folded over the coffin. Shoulders shuddered at the gunfire, and hundreds of white-gloved hands were raised in respect to the picture of Cooper, dressed in her blues, with a green wreath draped over the frame that sat perched next to her grave.
And in the front row of seats near the grave, with his hands folded in his lap, Tim sat with his daughters, both of whom wore small black dresses, their cheeks red from crying. He put his arms around both of them, whispering into Sarah’s ear. His oldest nodded, and when the officer walked over with the folded flag and handed it to her, she clutched it tight to her chest.
The ceremony was quick, the priest’s words moving but succinct. The hundreds who’d attended the funeral were mostly in uniform, showing up either because of orders from the chief or to finally pay their long-overdue respects to a colleague.
Tim and the girls each grabbed a handful of dirt and tossed it over the casket as it was lowered into the ground. Condolences were offered as the crowds dispersed, and Tim shook the hands of people he’d never met and would never see again. When it was over, he walked the girls back to their car, Sarah still pressing the folded flag tight to her chest.
With the girls buckled up in the back seat, Tim glanced in the rearview mirror. It was a lot for them to take in. They’d barely just put their mother in the ground, and now they’d lost an aunt. “Are you guys hungry at all?” Both shook their heads, and Tim started the car. “Well, if you get—” A knock on the driver’s window startled him, and he reached for the electronic lever and triggered the glass to roll down. “Can I help you?”
The young man fiddled with his hands uncomfortably, twisting the wedding band around his finger in quick turns. “Mr. Hamilton, I’m Jason Hart. I was Cooper’s partner.”
Tim shook his head and extended his hand through the window. “Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”
“No, it’s all right.” Hart smoothed out the tie on his chest and stomach then tucked his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to express my condolences. I didn’t work with her for very long, but Cooper was a hell of a detective.” He tossed a quick glance into the back window at the girls. “How are you holding up?”
“It’s been a lot to process.” Despite the prickly relationship he’d shared with his sister-in-law, he was surprised at the grief he’d felt when he was told about her death. “But I think we’re doing the best we can.”
Hart cleared his throat and then reached into his jacket pocket. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that the department is starting a fund in Cooper’s honor. All of the money received will be transferred to you.” He extended a business card through the window. “That’s my contact information so we can set up a time to chat later.”
Tim placed the card in the cup holder and gave a curt nod. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”
“And if there’s anything you ever need, don’t hesitate to call.”
“Will do.” Tim reached through the open window, and the two shook hands once more. As he drove off, Hart remained frozen in place, growing smaller in the rearview mirror.
“Daddy?” Mary asked. “Is Aunt Addy with Mommy now?”
Sarah started crying, and the leather of the steering wheel groaned from Tim’s grip. “Yeah, sweetie.” His voice grew thick with phlegm, and his eyes watered. “She’s with Mommy now.”
***
The groundskeeper packed in the last bit of dirt on the gravesite long after the crowds had disappeared. All that remained now was the headstone and the picture of Cooper in her dress blues. Hart stood at the foot of the grave, staring at the stone, entranced. “I’m so sorry, Cooper.”
Hart removed his hand from his pocket and wiped his eye, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have had to do it alone.” He cracked a half smile. “Though I’m not sure that’s what you wanted in the first place.” He knelt, flattening his palm into the cool, freshly turned dirt. “You were the best cop I’d ever met. You walked the line as far as you could take it. You didn’t fail the law. The law failed you.” He fisted the dirt, the soil squeezing through the cracks of his fingers. “But I won’t let the law fail again.”
Hart pushed himself off the ground and rested his hand on the headstone. “Thank you, Cooper. For everything.” A gust of wind brushed across his face and then carried away the dirt he slowly sifted from his fist. He returned to the car, where Katie was waiting, clutching her massive belly with both hands.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Hart leaned over and kissed her lips, lacing his fingers over hers and feeling the light kick of their daughter, and smiled. “I will be.”
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story!
Writing has always been a passion of mine and it’s incredibly gratifying and rewarding whenever you give me an opportunity to let you escape from your everyday surroundings and entertain the world that is your imagination.
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Take care,
James Hunt
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Death Notes- Omnibus
Prequel- Death Notes: The Beginning
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Death Notes: Obituary
Chapter 1 – Baltimore 30 years ago
Chapter 2 – Baltimore – Present Day
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
