The Dead War Series (Book 1): Good Intentions

by D N Simmons

  “Damn shame,” Officer Brown muttered as he walked away, leaving the two detectives to smile at each other.

  They made their way to their captain’s office passing a few officers who were teasing them by making throat slitting motions. Everyone suspected the captain was going to have another difficult case for the two detectives to work on. They were right.

  “What took you two so long to get in here?”

  Captain Michelle Lawrence asked as she sat at her desk. The two detectives noticed that they didn't get a glimpse of her long shapely legs which were hidden behind the desk. Warren suspected that she had been gawked at by one too many officers and managed to hide her assets. Her long blonde hair fell in waves past her shoulders onto her shirt front, denying them and all others a peek of her ‘famous cleavage’ that the majority of the male−and some female cops –admired.

  “Well, you know, Detective Eric, I didn’t expect to be waiting this long when I called both of you in here about five minutes ago,” she said, both eyebrows raised, a finger lightly tapping the desk.

  “Sorry, Captain, but Warren here, he was in the ‘little boy’s’ room,” Detective Eric fibbed quickly, not wanting to admit the real reason he postponed getting to her office, which was, he forgot.

  “There’s nothing ‘little’ about my ‘boy’,” Warren retorted as he tried hard to force back the chuckles threatening to erupt at any second.

  Captain Lawrence looked at the two men and shook her head.

  “These two ...” she thought to herself. Sometimes they worked her last good nerve, but she wouldn’t deny that they were her two best detectives.

  “Look gentlemen, it's time to get right down to business. We have a report of a body found in the alley off 79th and Cottage Grove Avenue. The preliminary report stated the body appeared to be drained of blood and the head was ... well ... missing. Furthermore, there are no witnesses. I’m assigning this case to you. It’s right up your alley. Galen’s on the scene already, waiting on you. Detectives Weinstein and Johnson are there right now, questioning the employee of a bakery store who discovered the body.”

  “Now get the hell out of here.”

  “Hey Captain, feel like cutting us some slack? We just got off doing the Joliet case.” Warren inquired, as he glanced at the little white sheet of paper with the location of the crime scene on it. “Why not let Weinstein and Johnson handle this one?”

  “Oh gee, guys,” she shrugged, smiling, enjoying the moment. “I’d love to let you both sit back and eat your ‘donuts’ but this damn government insists I put you to work.”

  She shrugged her shoulders as if to ask, “What can you do?”

  “Besides, I want my best on this one. I have another case for Johnson and Weinstein.”

  “As you wish,” Warren commented.

  He wasn’t very thrilled about having to undertake another case that looked to be more challenging than the last one he just wrapped up.

  “You want a vacation, take the time. Until then, it is what it is. If only they’d put more than one division per state, I wouldn’t have to spread your asses so thin, but being as it is, get out there, make me proud.”

  “Gee, Captain, you can spread my ass thin anytime,” Matthew joked, not really meaning a word he spoke.

  Warren laughed, knowing the truth.

  “Get out,” Captain Lawrence said flatly, fighting the urge to chuckle herself.

  The men gave each other a knowing look as they walked out of her office.

  “Great, a body drained of blood and the head is missing. This has vampire written all over it. Damn, I’m hungry. How about later, we head over to Calvin’s for some ribs,” Warren suggested as he closed the office door behind them.

  “That’s fine with me. I’ve got the nagging feeling this case is going to be a pain in the ass,” Matthew said as they grabbed their coats and headed for the parking lot.

  “I’ll drive,” Warren said eagerly as he made a mad dash for the driver's side of Matthew’s car.

  “Like hell you will. You have a little too much of the speed demon in you. If you want to drag race, then do it in your own shit, not mine. Now saddle your ass into the spectator's seat,” Matthew said as he pushed his partner in the direction of the passenger side of his brand new Python Triton, one of the highly desired foreign cars from Asia that everyone was buying.

  It was an economy car, great on gas and it looked like a sports car. Warren admired the car and mentally noted to put the automobile on his wish list for Christmas.

  “You know,” Warren started as he looked around his partner's new car, “you should give this car to me as a Christmas present.”

  He smiled at his partner as he waited for an answer.

  “Sure ... if you give me your Diamondback SUV. You know that I love that truck.”

  “Point taken, now, let’s drop the subject,” Warren said, smiling slyly.

  “Yeah, not willing to give up your ride, I see.” Matthew smiled broadly.

  He had gotten the last word, which was hard to do with Warren. He reached for his emergency light and placed it on the top of the car, clicking on the portable siren as they sped through the morning rush hour traffic on the urban streets of Chicago.

  “You know, it would be nice if the government increased the amount of officers on the S.U.I.T.” Warren said.

  “That’d be the logical thing to do, but I don’t think they see the practicality in it. Plus, the training is hard as hell. I barely passed myself,” Matthew said, thinking back to the moments he was drafted into both the police force and the S.U.I.T.

  Twelve years ago, when Matthew was twenty-one, and fresh out of college, he had joined the Police force. After being on the force for seven years, and already a seasoned detective, he was partnered up with Warren, who had been on the force for five years. They hit it off instantly and had been partners and friends ever since. They never dreamt they would become the first and only human defense against supernatural criminals.

  When the supernatural race (the politically correct phrase) was exposed, the government was forced to create a nationwide policing unit to monitor and arrest certain individuals with supernatural abilities who broke the law. So they began by recruiting a hundred-thousand of the nation's top cops and military personnel who were physically fit and mentally astute enough to begin the arduous training. They worked in paramilitary tactics, and with weaponry specially designed to deal with those who possessed supernatural abilities. The training had been created to improve motor skills and heighten senses of sight, smell, and hearing, which was extremely necessary to combat and apprehend the unique criminal element in the supernatural world.

  Only five hundred out of the first hundred-thousand recruited made it through the demanding process, but more were needed. The call went out for more recruits which, in the end, gave the government the additional thousand officers needed to complete the fifteen-hundred-member armed force. There was another force of two thousand civilians assigned in certain fields, specializing in forensics, chemistry, character profiling, social behaviors, and weaponry. Because of their impeccable record of being among the best of the best on the police force, Warren and Matthew were drafted by the Superintendent of Police via the Mayor of Chicago for recruitment. Due to their unique partnership and their chief's belief that it would be very beneficial to the local Supernatural Unit Investigation Team, they were reassigned as partners to the Chicago division.

  “I’m glad you did pass it. I would have missed having you as a partner,” Warren said.

  “You and me, both. We’re here. Would you look at this crowd?” Matthew said as he slowly drove closer to the scene.

  The location of the crime scene was packed with onlookers. Uniformed officers worked to keep the crowd away from the scene. Cars were backed up for blocks as more and more police vehicles and media trucks pulled up. Matthew navigated his car through the helter-skelter of patrol cars, finally parking in a spot as close to the scene as he could get
.

  The two detectives emerged and made their way past the bevy of excited reporters and curious spectators. An ambitious reporter, desperate to get the scoop, cut in front of them as they tried to make their way to the crime scene. Before they could get one step further the reporter thrust a microphone in Warren’s face and began to bombard him with questions.

  “Detective! Detective! Is it true that the body is headless? Do you think a supernatural did this?” asked the blonde, female reporter in the tight blue pantsuit as she struggled to keep pace with the two detectives’ long strides.

  “No comment,” Warren said as they approached the uniformed officer guarding the crime scene.

  The answer given didn't seem to satisfy the pushy reporter as she continued to ask the same questions in a different manner.

  “Detectives, are you from the S.U.I.T. precinct? If you are, then this must have been a supernatural killing, right? What kind of supernatural did this? Was it a vampire or a shape shifter?” she asked in succession.

  The two detectives ignored the line of questioning, continuing on to the yellow and black police tape blocking off the crime scene. Both men ducked under the tape in unison and continued making their way to the two detectives who were waiting for them to take over.

  “Hey, Barry, look who’s graced us with their presence. If it isn’t the ‘Dynamic Duo’,” Detective Gabriel Johnson joked to his partner Barry Weinstein who was kneeling by the body.

  “Heya boys,” he greeted the approaching officers.

  Barry straightened himself and made his way toward his partner.

  “Warren… Matthew,” Barry said, giving a little ‘hello’ nod to the two detectives.

  “Gabe and I were the first on the scene. The guy who discovered the body is over there away from the media sharks.”

  He pointed to a twenty-something year old black male, standing against the side of a building.

  “You know how hungry the media is for a story when they get a whiff of fresh blood,” he joked.

  All four detectives chuckled, nodding in agreement.

  “Yeah, but the guy won’t be able to tell you much. He was dumping the trash that should have been dumped the night before, when he came across the body. He said, ‘he saw the legs sticking out from behind the dumpster and knew something wasn’t right.’ That’s when he called the police, who called us in. That’s about it,” Gabriel said.

  “Captain must really like you two. She gives you guys all the coveted cases,” Barry teased.

  Secretly, he was upset about being removed from this case, but was trying to keep it professional. He knew his partner felt the same way.

  “Yeah, remind me to send her one of those famous Anisi gift baskets as a ‘Thank You’,” Matthew retorted.

  “Well, as much as we would like to stay here and chit-chat with the two of you, we’ve just received a call. Captain wants us. Maybe she’ll bestow upon us the same generosity she’s shown you two,” Gabriel said.

  “Ha! Don’t bet on it. She wants the two of us, ‘cause we’re hot,” Warren joked.

  “Yeah, I heard she likes guys with young, firm balls,” Matthew added.

  “Exactly. Not old shriveled, wrinkled balls like yours, so you’re both out of luck,” Warren finished.

  “Well, I guess I have to settle for your mother then, hey Matthew?” Gabriel shot back, smiling slyly.

  “Shit, be my guest! If she has a little Romeo on the side, maybe she’ll stop bugging me about making her a grandmother,” Matthew joked, causing the four detectives to laugh.

  Gabriel and Barry said their “goodbyes”, wrapping up their friendly banter and began walking toward their unmarked police cruiser as Warren and Matthew headed toward the body.

  Matthew and Warren looked at the sheet-covered body which lay partially behind a dumpster in alley of the Dark Night Travel Agency, a well-known agency that catered to the supernatural. After the supernatural race was exposed, all types of businesses saw it as another way to make a profit. This particular agency helped vampires travel during the day.

  Both detectives stood over the corpse. They noted the small drops of blood spotting the sheet where the head should have been. Matthew squatted down beside the corpse, lifting the sheet to peek under. It looked to be the body of a black male and, on a closer inspection, he appeared to be middle-aged. Matthew threw a glance at Warren who seemed to be having a dilemma of his own. Matthew noticed Warren’s breathing had increased and his jaw muscles had tightened. He also saw tiny beads of sweat forming on Warren’s forehead.

  “Hey, keep it together, man. You don’t want to attract attention to yourself,” Matthew encouraged his partner in a hushed voice.

  “I’ll be all right. Don’t worry about me,” Warren said, hoping to ease his partner’s concern.

  Matthew returned his attention back to the corpse before him, but in the recesses of his mind, he began to think back to the time when he’d first discovered Warren’s supernatural secret nearly three years ago. They’d been on a stakeout, tracking down a child molester, who would strangle his adolescent victims, dress them up as life-sized dolls, and rape their corpses.

  The stakeout had gone wrong when their suspect noticed their plain, black van parked across the street from his house. Matthew and Warren had hated the idea of trying to be “inconspicuous” using the van, but they'd had no other choice. They had been sitting in the van for eight hours on the third day, their butt-cheeks had gone numb and the Crunchy Crème donuts they had eaten earlier had left their bellies begging for refueling. It was at that moment when the nut came bursting through the front door of his house blasting his twelve gauge shotgun at their van.

  Matthew would have caught a buckshot blast straight to the head had Warren not thrown himself in front of the shot, taking the injury in his upper right shoulder. Never losing their composure, they returned fire and took down their suspect. After disarming the man and confirming his death, Matthew returned to the van to check on Warren, the partner he trusted and now owed his life to.

  Warren had covered his wound with his jacket, not wanting to let Matthew see it. He insisted that it was just a flesh wound and nothing to worry about. But Matthew, ignoring Warren’s protests, struggled to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. He remembered trying to snatch the jacket away from Warren who seemed to be behaving as children sometimes do, hiding their wounds from their mothers so that they won’t go dabbing alcohol into the wound. He joked with Warren, in hopes to diffuse the situation and keep Warren calm by telling him not to worry, he promised it wouldn’t sting. Warren however, was adamant about keeping the wound hidden until Matthew pulled at the jacket with all his might. Warren had finally relented, exposing a partially healed wound. Matthew watched in amazement as the wound continued to heal. He watched as the torn muscles began to reattach themselves. He looked on in awe and disbelief as the skin reformed over the opening the buckshot had left, leaving nothing but the blood around the area where the wound had been. He was speechless. He remembered looking to Warren for an explanation.

  Matthew listened as Warren, his partner of nearly two years, confessed that he was a werewolf. Warren had decided to use the mortal terminology for his species. Shape-shifters, like himself, never used terms like ‘werewolf’ or ‘werecheetah’. He didn't like having his secret out, knowing full well that the laws were extremely biased when it came to his kind, even if he was a cop. Even if his intentions were good, he would be fired and probably prosecuted for lying and falsifying information during exams and testing. The human race didn’t trust those of the supernatural race. “Birds of a feather,” he supposed. He had trusted his partner enough to give Matthew the choice of keeping his secret or revealing it. In the beginning, Matthew had felt leery about such a revelation. He wasn’t sure how he felt about having a flesh-eating beast as his partner.

  In the end, Matthew believed he knew his partner well enough to know that he would never eat him ... he hoped. He decided to keep the secret a
nd their bond became even stronger. It wasn’t until after Matthew knew the truth about Warren that he started to understand his strange behavior of the past; such as the constant eating of high-fat, high-protein foods. He had never seen anyone who could put away two twenty-ounce porterhouse steaks the way Warren could and this was including the side dishes. He also began to recognize the look of bloodlust in Warren's gray eyes whenever they went to a bloody crime scene. He wondered how the hell it slipped his radar in the first damn place. He was amazed at how well Warren could endure the strong scent and sight of blood and flesh at crime scenes. He had chalked it up to Warren’s own high level of personal discipline, determination and dedication to the job.

  Matthew remembered the times when Warren had broken the handle of his car door not once, but twice trying to hop out of the car in a rush. He also remembered the time they had to chase down a suspect. He had decided to cut the suspect off in the car while Warren took to chasing the perpetrator on foot. He found it amazing when Warren had beaten him to the punch and had the suspect apprehended. Now that he knew the truth, all the pieces that hadn't made sense in the past fell into place.

  Now, as Matthew looked at Warren again, he could tell by the way his partner's breathing was returning to normal that he had gotten control over his bloodlust and hunger and was ready to get his mind on the job at hand. Matthew reached into his right breast pocket, producing a retractable metal rod that he used to further examine the corpse without actually touching the body. A uniformed officer walked over to them, giving them each a pair of latex gloves. Matthew put on his gloves without hesitation. Warren always hated wearing the gloves. The scent from the latex and the powdered substance inside the gloves always agitated the sensory glands of his nose and mouth. Nevertheless, he slowly slid his hands into the gloves.

  “Hey, look at this here, come closer,” Matthew said inquisitively as he gestured for his partner to take a closer look.

  As both men peered into the gaping hole where the victim’s head used to be, Warren’s breathing began to increase, but he kept his mind focused. He looked at the broken spinal cord, the torn muscles and sinew left behind. The remaining flesh looked jagged as though the head had been ripped away from the body.