Mystery: Family Ties: Mystery and Suspense

by James Kipling

  I could tell that whatever was bugging him wasn’t something he wanted to let go of. “I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be angry about whatever’s pissed you off, but there is a time and place for these conversations and this isn’t it! Now apologize to your lady for embarrassing her in front of everyone and save whatever’s bugging you for later. Give yourself a chance to calm down and talk about this like adults so my co-workers and I don’t have to get involved. Whatever has happened isn’t worth getting a criminal record over. Is it?”

  The man paused for a moment but seemed to get it. “No, it’s not.” He paused for a moment and then turned to his lady friend. “I’m sorry.”

  I watched them take their groceries out to their van and leave the parking lot. They weren’t yelling anymore, and my presence did exactly what I’d hoped it would do: make the man realize that no matter how bad some things get, it’s never worth going to jail over. I went back to get my own groceries and someone was holding my cart to make sure no one ran off with it while I was dealing with the situation. It was Courtenay. “Thanks for watching my stuff.”

  “I should be thanking you,” Courtenay replied. “I was just about to call the cops to take care of that little spat.”

  “People have a right to get a little angry,” I replied. “Sometimes they just need a reminder that no one has the right to get that angry at anyone.”

  “No kidding,” Courtenay agreed as she relinquished my cart. “I didn’t realize you were a cop.”

  “I’ve been on the force for over twenty years,” I replied. It was the first time I’d ever talked to her about my job. This was uncharted territory for us.

  “Thanks for your help, officer,” Courtenay then said with another winning smile. That was four for this trip.

  “It’s detective, actually,” I said with a smile of my own. I had been a detective for over eight years. I usually didn’t like to broadcast it, but rarely did I get a chance to gloat to someone like Courtenay.

  “Wow,” Courtenay said as she gave a short wave. “I’ll see you next time, detective. Don’t forget to call us for the cake.”

  “I won’t,” I said as I pulled the cart away. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  I quickly packed the groceries into the car and put the cart back as fast as I could. I’d taken up too much time getting the food and barely had enough time to go home and unpack before running off to get the girls from school. I wouldn’t be late, but I always loved getting there early. Watching them interact with other girls, and even boys as they left, gave me a little more intel than I would ever get from the girls themselves.

  It was getting to the point where I was going to have to get someone on the inside to gather information for me, the equivalent of an informant on my own kids. The idea of having a personal informant as opposed to a professional one bugged me a bit, but with the way teenagers were these days, I needed to be proactive. The last thing I wanted was to be one of those dads who had to explain why I was completely in the dark and had no idea they’d turn out the way they did.

  I’d seen too many of those parents sitting in the police station with that deer in the headlights look on their faces, unable to explain why their kids would do the horrible things they were being charged with. I never wanted to find myself in that position, ever. If I had to take measures to make sure I was in the know about what was going on at my girls’ school, then I would do whatever was necessary. For now, I was just able to get home, unpack the groceries, toss out the old food that was green and molding, and still get to the school with fifteen minutes to spare.

  Like I said before, I enjoyed getting there early. I even got to see which kids had the balls to try to make a run for it early. Usually if they did, they rarely if ever used the front door. It was while I was waiting for the bell to ring that the last thing I wanted to hear started buzzing in my pocket. I paused for a moment and then answered the phone. “I don’t care what you’re calling for, I’m not coming in. I haven’t even picked up the girls yet.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Jake,” the voice on the other end replied. It was my partner, Flo. Known to everyone at the force as Detective Harris, Flo (short for Florence) usually liked to bust my balls whenever she was in need of passing time. “I was just calling to make sure you were on your way and not going to be late.”

  “I never am,” I retorted.

  “I know,” Flo concurred. “I’m just a little bored and thought I’d see how you were doing.”

  “As much as I hate to hear you’re bored, nothing could make me happier,” I replied with a smile she couldn’t see. The idea that things were slow gave me the impression that I most likely wasn’t going to be bothered that night. While I’ve been wrong on occasions, the idea that I might get to spend the night with the girls was a welcome thought.

  I watched as the kids started to file out of school, free for the weekend and happy about it. “Look, as much as I would like to help you with your current predicament, the kids are leaving school and I have my own thing to do. No offense, Flo, but I don’t want to hear from you again unless it’s really hitting the fan.”

  “All right, Jake,” she answered with a deep sigh. I could tell there was a hint of jealousy in her voice. She had been married for over seven years and had yet to have a little one of her own. I knew she wanted kids but it just wasn’t happening.

  I didn’t know what I would’ve done with myself if I didn’t have my girls. Being a dad was one of the best things that had ever happened to me. As much as I loved my job, it was always a means to being a better dad. I did it all for them, and every risk I assumed when I went out to do my work was well worth seeing the view I had every other Friday ... my kids heading to the car, happy to see me. “Abbey, take the front.”

  The older of my two girls did as she was told and Sandy hopped into the back. Abbey looked over at me as she put on her seatbelt. “Am I in trouble, Daddy?”

  “In my profession,” I calmly responded as I waited for her sister to strap in before I began to drive, “the people who are being bad sit in the back.”

  “Uh-oh,” Abbey said as she finally understood what was going on.

  “What did I do?” Sandy called out from the back. She knew better not to fess up to anything until she knew what she was being accused of. No point piling on more charges just in case I was talking about something else.

  I waved a piece of paper in the air and passed it to her. “That test was faxed to my station yesterday,” I answered without taking my eyes off the road. “Your science teacher wants to know why it never came back with your mother’s signature on it.”

  “Damn,” Sandy cursed from the backseat. “How did he get your fax number?”

  “All your teachers have my card,” I answered. “That card has my number, my cell number, and the fax number at the station. Nothing happens without my knowing about it. It helps to have connections.”

  “So now what?” Sandy asked.

  “No friends or going outside the entire weekend,” I answered. I could tell she was upset, but that was too bad. Usually I let them play with friends on my weekends, especially if I got called into work, but this time she would have to stay at my place until further notice. Despite my attempt to enforce the code in my household, I still made an effort to smooth things over. “Do your time, and not only will I sign this for your teacher, but I won’t tell your mother about it. Okay?”

  I could see her steely gaze in the rear view mirror, which sent a small chill up my spine. Something she got from her mother. “All right,” she finally conceded.

  “This is your only warning,” I added. “I get another test like this, and I tell your mother.”

  “Okay,” Sandy replied as she crossed her arms. I hated being the bad cop, but sometimes it was necessary. Beth sometimes let the kids get away with too much, which left me to do the work alone with what little time I had; which, at times, led to my weekends being nothing more than a bitter staring match. And from t
hat icy look in the back seat, I could already tell this was going to be a long weekend.

  2

  It was around three in the morning when I got the call. I didn’t want to answer. Despite the internal struggle to fight the urge to wake up, I groaned and sat up. I picked up the cell to confirm what I had feared most ... work was calling. I clicked the green button on my phone and opened the line. “Walker, here.”

  “I need you out here, right now,” the voice on the other end pretty much commanded. I could tell from the lack of small talk that it was my boss. I doubt he enjoyed being up this early either. Part of me wanted to tell Captain George Bancroft where to go, and it wasn’t Kokomo. But I resisted for one simple reason, and it was how he’d structured the command: “I need you.”

  Captain Bancroft didn’t ask for help often. Usually, he was diplomatic if he was asking us to do extra work to help when they were burdened with too many cases at one time. It was this personal request that gave me the impression that whatever was going on was very serious.

  “Where are you?” I asked as I picked up my watch to confirm how early it was.

  There was a short pause. “I’m at the station. That’s not where the job is.”

  “And where is that?” I quickly asked.

  “State University, East Campus,” he answered.

  The captain knew exactly what kind of response I would give, as within seconds I was more awake than I’d ever thought was possible at that time of the morning on an off day. “I’m on my way.”

  “They’re at the Arts building,” Captain Bancroft continued. “You should be able to navigate your way from there. Just follow the lights. I’ll get down there as soon as I can. I’ve been told it’s a pretty brutal murder.”

  “All right,” I answered. “I’ll get out there as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  After the line went dead, I immediately called my brother and hoped he wasn’t out drinking. Thankfully, he was also asleep. “Jake?” he barely spat out.

  “Clive, get your ass over here,” I quickly shot back. “I’ve been called into work and it’s pretty serious.”

  “How fucking serious could it be?” he asked, grumpy and clearly unhappy he was being disturbed so early.

  “I’ve been called to Cassie’s campus,” I quickly answered. “Get your ass over here, now!”

  There was a short pause. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  Clive was actually over at my place in less than three minutes, and I appreciated his hustle. I hadn’t heard from Cassie in over a week, so to be called to her campus was making my heart race a little. Clive could tell and didn’t fuck around, scooting over to my place as quickly as he could. He always crashed on the couch and made pancakes for the girls whenever I was called to work. They loved their uncle and knew he only subbed in when things were tense and required my help. It rarely happened, but I wasn’t going to turn my back on them this time, not when the location of the crime scene was so personal.

  As I drove, the worst case scenario kept flashing through my head: Cassie was dead and I was being called in to identify the body. It was always my worst nightmare, to be the officer on the scene only to find out it was my own girl underneath the black canvas.

  For some reason, my subconscious loved to torment me with the worst possible scenario, ever since the girls had been babies. I’d often had nightmares about leaving the babies on the bus and running after it as it drove away with my kids inside; then, I’d wake up in a pool of sweat. As the girls got older, my dreams became scarier. From getting into a car accident whenever one of them was learning to drive, to coming upon a crime scene and finding that my own child is the victim.

  My brain just wasn’t willing to cut me some slack. I’d been a dad for over 21 years and the girls were alive and well. All fingers and toes were still attached and none of them even sporting a tattoo; so deep down, I had to admit that I must have done something right.

  That never stopped the dreams, though, and I was reminded of them as I drove to the East Campus, hoping that I was not driving towards my worst fear. As I pulled into the main parking lot in front of the Arts building, I could see what the Captain was talking about. There were several cop cars there, lights flashing and people being kept at bay. Reporters, students, and various onlookers wanted to know what was going on. As I pulled in, I could see Flo in the distance talking to a few medics. They were most likely forensics or from the coroner’s office, ready to pick up a fresh body.

  But I got an even bigger surprise, as much to my relief, I saw Cassie waving. She recognized my car and must have had a feeling I’d be here. It was likely that she, and many other students, had all walked over from the dormitories to see what the hell was going on. Once I got out of the car, I walked over to where Cassie was and gave her a big hug. I had feared the worst and it was so good to see her. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I’m with my friends, I’ll be fine,” Cassie answered. “I also thought you might be out here, too. I didn’t want you to panic.”

  Cassie was one smart girl. She knew I would have been panicking on the inside, especially if no one had told me what was really going on. I put a hand through her long hair and smiled. “Stay back and don’t get too close. I want you guys to head back to the dorm in 10 minutes. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm. I could tell she had no intention of listening to a single word I said. She was 21 and living on her own. She called the shots and I was just a part time parent she saw when she needed a little extra cash and an urge to crash or do laundry at my place.

  Relieved that my worst dreams had not become a reality, I was able to take a deep breath and finally get back to work. I quickly walked over to where Flo was, and she could tell from how I was interacting with Cassie that I hadn’t been told very much. “You should have called me,” she quickly started. “I would have confirmed it wasn’t Cassie. It’s not even a woman.”

  “It’s not?” I called back to her. That was odd. Most of the time when we responded to a homicide, it was a woman. Usually when men got into a tussle, they just bruised each other up and then went their separate ways. Rarely did it ever come to us.

  I followed Flo to the side of the Arts building where there was a narrow path between that building and the science hall. That’s where the tarp was, and I could tell by the officers there that this wasn’t going to be a pretty sight. The Captain never kept people back unless it was something he didn’t want on the front page. The kind of sight the police would prefer to keep out of the limelight since this was someone’s son, someone’s brother.

  I walked up to the tarp, knelt down beside it, and quickly lifted the canvas to take a peek. It was way more gruesome than I’d imagined. The victim was on his stomach, bound and gagged with one of those rubber balls that had straps. It was a common item ... something that you can get at any sex shop. There would be no point trying to trace it. The victim’s hands were bound behind his back with a pretty solid pair of handcuffs. I looked at his back and then back up at Flo. “Someone hit him with a Taser.”

  “I noticed that, too,” Flo confirmed. “It would explain how he managed to get the victim bound without a fight.”

  “How many stab wounds are there?” I quickly asked as I noticed the obvious cause of death. After being bound by his assailant, it was clear enough that the boy had been knifed to death, as there were several lacerations in his back.

  “I counted over twenty stab wounds,” Flo answered.

  “Not a nice way to go,” I replied as I kept looking. There was blood coming out of every wound. “This wasn’t a quick killing. Whoever did this made sure it was slow and very painful. He was tortured.”

  I lifted the tarp to see the real reason why the victim had been covered in the first place. His pants and underwear had been pulled down to his ankles. “Damn,” I said as I put the tarp back down. “The blood from his anal cavity suggests that he was sexually assau
lted. The flow also suggests that the assault occurred prior to his stabbing. It would explain the need for a ball-gag.”

  “So he could rape the victim without having to keep a hand over his mouth,” Flo said as she connected the dots. I could tell why Captain Bancroft had wanted me out here: this homicide was going to generate a lot of media based on how brutal it was.

  “It would appear so,” I concurred. “This boy suffered a great deal before he died. It would suggest that it might have been personal.”

  “Maybe it’s just a psychopath?” one of the officers suggested.

  “I sure hope not,” Flo quickly countered. “If it’s personal, then this is likely a one-time thing. Psychos leave a much higher body count.”

  “Any cameras?” I quickly asked.

  “Not in this corner,” Flo answered. “It’s a massive blind spot back here.”

  “I was afraid of that,” I called back as I stood up and started to walk around. Committing a crime this brutal in the one spot where not a single camera could see it wasn’t the kind of thing I wanted to see. This person was not only quick and brutal, but also smart. “Either the killer took the time to scout this area out long before the crime was committed, or he’s a student and lives here.”

  “I don’t like those options,” Flo frankly confessed.

  Before I could say something else, the Captain came over to speak with us. I could tell that, like me, he wasn’t very impressed with the scene. His anger was a little more projected than my disgust so I could tell he knew something that I didn’t. “What do you know?” I quickly asked.

  “The victim’s name is Wally Bennett.” The Captain handed over a small bag that contained evidence. “We found his wallet just around the corner. The killer dumped it in the trash can. I’m going to have forensics dust it for prints.”