[Sign Behind the Crime 02.0] Aries

by Ronnie Allen

  “Where were you?”

  Thank God, he didn’t see the tape.

  “In my house. A hit was made on me and the guy busted into my home.”

  He studied her a moment. “What made you decide to pull the trigger?”

  “He was pulling his weapon. I had hoped I would be able to talk him down. But when he pulled his weapon, he aimed at me. I had a weapon hidden in the end table next to my couch. It was close. He fired and missed because I rolled down and out of the way. I go over and over it in my mind why he didn’t fire again. I can only think that he wanted me to shoot. Suicide by cop. That would be the better alternative to what he’d get from the arms dealers, who commissioned the hits.”

  “That very well may be. So what’s your status now?”

  “IA cleared me. I had it taped. I installed a system when I was in juvie. I figured out a way to activate it. They saw it was a good kill.”

  “Did I hear you say you had a weapon in your end table? And you had it recorded?”

  “Yes. My house is an arsenal.”

  He smiled. “Okay, I now know why they assigned you to me.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you some things about me. I can really say, I know what you’re going through. Maybe you heard about it, the Gemini case? Last February, a woman was dumped in my lap for a seventy-two hour observation. Turns out, through my examination, I discovered that she was a predatory murderer. She escaped from custody, creating a nightmare in New York.” He paused, looking sullen. “She murdered my entire NYPD team. My friends.” He swallowed. “She made it down to Florida. Broke into our house, where my wife was staying on a visit to her family. My wife, Vicki, pulled the trigger, and she isn’t a cop. We had a surveillance camera on, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Another story for another time. Getting back. The trauma of having to kill someone lasts a long time. So, with that being said, what are your feelings right now?”

  Sam swallowed. “Oh my God. That is similar. It’s eerie.”

  “Well?”

  “It’s hard for me to talk about my feelings, especially fear.”

  He gave her another warm smile, his facial features softened. “Why is that?”

  She moistened her lips. “ I don’t know. It’s easier not to address that one.”

  “How did that come about?”

  She took a deep breath. “You ask the hard questions. Don’t you?”

  “Always. You know? Having a handle on your feelings, especially fear, determines how you optimize your skills as a detective. How badly do you want this career?” He stared at with an intensity that said he was damn serious.

  “Very much! I worked so hard to get here, Doctor Trenton, I don’t plan on leaving.” She sat back, shocked by her own imperative tone.

  “Okay. Good. What feeling did you just let out to me?”

  “Anger. I know my feelings. I know what makes me angry, sad, happy. And releasing anger isn’t one of my issues.”

  “How did you feel after you pulled the trigger?”

  “Scared. That came out first. I was trembling. Then anger.”

  “Okay. Good. Very good. Tell me about the anger first.”

  “I was pissed at him for making me do it. I was pissed at myself for not being able to talk him down.”

  “It’s the last statement I’m concerned about. How many people had this guy killed?”

  “Two before he came to my house.”

  “How would you describe him?”

  “Big, arrogant, angry, sexual. He wanted to have sex.”

  “How did he approach that?”

  “The sex?”

  Trenton nodded.

  “He was vulgar. Said he was going to fuck me, before he killed me. One thing I can do well under stress is have a fast come back. I told him I had an STD. It made him hesitate. I felt his erection collapse.”

  Trenton laughed. “Oh, yeah. That would make a man deflate. How did you feel his erection?”

  “He had me pinned under him, on my carpet. I just keep trying to go through my mind as to what I could have done differently.”

  “Okay. And you’re beating yourself up about it, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s only been a couple of days. However, do you know what going to happen if you keep doing that?”

  “I’ll start doubting myself, and then I’ll be no good to anyone, especially my partner.”

  “Exactly. How do you feel when you doubt yourself?”

  “Scared shitless. Out of balance. Out of control. I don’t like being out of control. I’m sort of a control freak. Like I’m losing, and I don’t like to lose. And that pisses me off. I don’t like myself for it.”

  “It sounds like you’re not giving yourself permission to do something that goes against your predetermined plan.”

  “That’s exactly it. And I know being effective in this job requires flexibility, to change at a moment’s notice to plan B.”

  “Yes. That will come with experience. You’ve only been in this position a little more than a week. So what happens to you physically when you’re fearful?

  “Oh God, my tells are easy, I perspire, get clammy, stomach gets queasy. I tremble. So how do I stop doing that?”

  “What do you do to get over anger?

  “I meditate, deep breathing. I lay my palms over my heart. The warmth of my hands calms me down. Or I work it through in the gym, on the punching bag.”

  “Do the same thing when you experience fear. It takes time. Stop beating yourself up. Start trusting your intuition. That’ll eliminate some doubt. Are you in tune with that part of yourself?”

  “I’m trying to be.”

  Her voice must have come across as evasive because he narrowed his eyes.

  “Okay. What do you feel in your body when your intuition is giving you a signal?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He smiled. “Detective, I see right through you. Why are you still in hiding?”

  She knew what he meant, but didn’t think she could be open, yet. “What do you mean? How can you see right through me?”

  “Actually, around you, too. I see auras.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Hey, I’m your ally here, so I’ll let you off the hook. For me, my intuition comes through my crown chakra down my right side. Actually, it’s my spirit guide, Max.”

  Sam’s eyes widened as her world suddenly opened up. She relaxed. Happy tears almost flowed. “Doctor Trenton, I’ve never been able to talk about that to anyone before, except for my Reiki circle, and none of them are cops. I didn’t think I’d be accepted here. Just the opposite. I thought I’d be shunned.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I just started becoming in tune with my guide, Dara, a couple of years ago. I started working with crystals, healing stones, and chakras about then. In the beginning, thoughts would just spit out of my mouth, spoken in third person. People around me would stare, thinking I was talking to myself. Then in this case, Dara started blurting out, again. She identified the killer, AriellaRose Larcon, in a very early meeting. I had no idea why that popped out of my mouth and I was stuck proving a hypothesis I didn’t consciously create. Then a couple of days ago, I had a creepy dream, where I couldn’t hear what was being said, but Dara was speaking to one of the victims. He gave me a signal to look behind him. We were looking for the reason for the killings and for the next victim. He pointed behind him. I woke up and tried to interpret the dream. All I got was to look behind him, into his past. The next day, we were going through case files, and Frank--uh, Doctor Khaos--talked about deep rooted trauma from AriellaRose’s past. I grabbed onto that, and it was a relief, so I didn’t have to tell them about my dream. I looked in past records and found the fifth victim. We arrested him on rape charges but actually saved his life. I don’t know how I would have approached it if Doctor Khaos hadn’t discussed past trauma, first.”

  “You said you couldn’t hear in the dr
eam. What prevented that?”

  “I had earmuffs on. When Dara released my hands and feet from the restraints, I didn’t pull them off. What does that mean?”

  “What do you think?”

  She paused for a long minute. “Damn! I’m preventing myself from hearing. Closing myself off. Not listening to my inner thoughts.”

  “That’s right. I’d recommend embracing your intuition. You saved a man’s life.”

  “I listened to Dara when she had given me messages in private. Well, sometimes, not even then. But it’s when she appears in public that startles me, embarrasses me.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “That’s a biggie. Not being accepted. Tossed out of the department. When we were at AriellaRose’s house--in her basement, she had a ritual room--and I explained her black magick ceremonies to the guys, I thought the next stop for me would be Manhattan Psych.”

  “But that didn’t happen, did it?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. So what do you need to do?”

  “Be more open to receiving.”

  “Yes. Believe me. It can be a challenge. Max, has given me many clues in cases. Especially when I look at files. Yes, you have to prove them scientifically and with evidence, using your training, but don’t ignore them.”

  “How do I make the men here understand?”

  “I suggest, starting with Frank. He’ll help you out.”

  “Frank knows about this?”

  He smiled. “Talk with Frank.” He checked his watch. “Our time is up for today, Detective Wright. We’ll talk again in a few days.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He disconnected.

  Sam sat stunned. Then relieved. “All right, Sam. Time to come out of hiding. Time to start trusting your intuition,” she muttered to herself. “And then it’s time to confront Frank.”

  She approached her desk, piled high with folders from Frank’s wife’s murder case. Loo had told her she’d be here for a few days, so she planned to make use of her time. As soon as she sat down at her desk, her cell rang. “Hello, Detective Wright.” She frowned when she heard the voice on the other end of the line.

  “Detective, Marcus Willtower here. Just wanted to let you know that Jesus Parvos’s computer led us to the arms dealers. The feds are forming a sting now.”

  “Oh, thank God. Thank you for telling me.”

  “Sure.”

  “One thing, though. I spoke to Mr. Philetano last night, actually three Mr. Philetano’s. The father, the son who’s a doctor, and the son who’s a lawyer said that Leonardo would never order a hit on a woman, much less a cop. Any evidence on the computer about that?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  Sam paused for a moment. “Did you check his visitor log at the detention center?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do that. For a few reasons. Find out if Adam or Parvos visited him.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  “All right. Just as good a reason as any. Will do. See you around, Detective.”

  “Thanks. Bye.” She ended the call and sat for a moment. Okay, Dara, here’s to a new beginning for you and me. I promise, I’ll listen to you from now on.

  She pulled out the stacks of folders. She had already gone through them. But her head had been on the Larcon case. Now that things were winding down, she could focus.

  She opened the gang related files first. They were the most copious. She needed to shuffle them around and clear her desk. She placed all of the other files on the floor. The pile reached the seat of her chair. She was thankful that most of the reports had been typed. Years ago, handwritten ones were acceptable. But that made it so hard. Cops’ handwriting was as hard to read as doctors’, maybe worse, because they were in a rush. She smiled, grateful that this had been before her time.

  She tackled the Manhattan gang files first. That was Frank’s main turf. There was the list of every gang in every precinct. There was an X next to each gang as they were eliminated. There were fingerprints for each gang member in here She turned to the evidence sheets and focused on the chain of evidence, taking out evidence from the boxes, returning them, comparing who had signed them on the withdrawal and on the return, who added new seals when the previous ones ripped. These seemed to be in order.

  She opened the crime scene photos folder. She focused on Jen, the position she fell in--backward, arms away from her body, bullet wound in her stomach, groceries scattered around her. Sam stared at her face--eyes open from the angle they shot the photo. Yeah. She could understand why Frankie had gotten scared when he saw her. She and Jen could pass for sisters. Definitely same eye shade and hair color. Sam’s nose was straighter. Jen’s turned up at the tip.

  Okay, Sam, think.

  The fourth shot was the fatal one. She was about six feet from her car. Frank had told her Jen had completed two tours in Iraq.

  Jen, you heard three shots. Why didn’t you drop for cover? Why didn’t you pull your weapon? It was right on you, under your shirt. Something doesn’t make sense. I promise, Jen, I’ll will investigate this until I find out who did this. Frank deserves closure. So does Frankie. And you. I know you must be tormented, Jen, in your grave, knowing the police didn’t find out who did this. The folder of your contacts was the thinnest. No one ever threatened you, no one would want you dead.

  At that moment, Sam felt queasy. Could that have been Dara? I didn’t listen when Dara gave me a mental clue, so she’d have to affect me physically. Is that what’s happening?

  She decided to go with what Doctor Trenton had said, though it was implausible with what all the documentation had shown. Go with her gut.

  Jen, by any chance do you know who did this? Sam had no idea why she asked this question. She had to learn not to be fearful or doubtful of her intuition. This case would test her limits. Even if she had to go against the entire department within the five boroughs.

  She sat still for a moment and replayed it to herself. If she recognized someone, her guard would be down. Correct. The shock of knowing who shot at her could delay her reactions. Correct.

  Did Jen know who shot her? Dara help me now. Lead me in the right direction.

  Sam stared at the pile of folders on the floor. Starting at the top, she slipped the folders off, onto the floor, and created another pile. She didn’t find the one she wanted until the end. Her luck, she’d need the bottom two. She put the folder of the interviews of Jen’s contacts on her desk and opened them, not knowing what to expect. She’d look at Jen’s work history.

  Okay, she was a surgical nurse in emergency services. Brooklyn South Hospital. That’s near me. Bachelor’s and master’s in Nursing. Also supervising nurse in her ER. Okay, specific duties? Here they are. Mentor nursing interns, write their progress reports, place pharmaceutical orders, oversee invoices and supplies, liaison between nursing staff and the hospital administration. Um, nothing crazy, like report doctors who screwed up. Wonder if she had to do anything like that.

  She went through the folder and read every report. Her colleagues applauded her. Wondering if anyone just said they did, just for the police, she looked at the signatures of the investigators from Brooklyn South. She didn’t recognize any of their names. Her former precinct was in Brooklyn North.

  The lead homicide detective was Dingo Withers. She knew that. The text message from the Bronx came back into her mind. “Got the biscuit. I’m hungry.’

  Had anyone at Jen’s employment known what her husband did for a living? Was that text message and Jen’s employment related?

  CHAPTER 34

  Sam picked up all the folders from the floor, made a neat pile on her desk, and stuck Jen’s employment folder into her tote. She grabbed the handset of the phone on her desk and depressed a key. “Hey, Nick.”

  “Hi, Sam.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In Loo’s office, finalizing some reports.”

  “Ok
ay, I’m coming in.” She straightened her white silk blouse, pulled on the ends of the huge bow at her neck. On second thought, she opened the bow and let the sashes cascade down her chest. They laid smoothly, minimizing her bosom. These men had seen enough of the girls to last an eternity and her embarrassment still hadn’t waned.

  She walked down the hall, around the corner, and knocked on the door. She gave herself the much-needed courage with a few deep breaths.

  “Come in.” As she opened the door, Lieutenant Rojas’ expression turned stoic, smoothing out any of his facial lines. He must have read the intent on her face. He leaned back in his chair. “What can I do for you, Detective?”

  She sat in an armchair next to Nick’s. “I’m going through the folders Detective Withers gave me and I need to ask you some clarifying questions.”

  “Such as?”

  “All of the investigation has been done so thoroughly. Every folder. Except one. Jennifer Khaos’s employment folder. Minimal information. Why is that?”

  “It’s a habit we have. We don’t spend time in any place where we don’t see a purpose. Next?”

  “I’d like to reopen that area, Lieutenant.”

  “Have you conferred with Detective Withers on that? I told him to work by your side, going over every facet.”

  Sam exchanged looks with Nick. “I just started dissecting all of this, Lieutenant. I’ll call him. Thank you. One more question, please. May I please stop by the hospital that Mrs. Khaos worked at? It’s actually very close to where I and Doctor Khaos live. I’d like to go, today.”

  “Have you read the reports from Homicide?”

  “Yes. I have the detective’s names. I’d really like to give it fresh eyes. I do have the names of people they interviewed, as well.”

  He pushed his lips into a frown. “What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing concrete, yet.”

  Doctor Trenton’s words popped into her mind. ‘Trust your intuition.’

  “I looked at the crime scene photos,” she continued. “The fourth bullet was the fatal shot. She was a trained marksman. Why didn’t she drop the groceries and open fire? Only one reason comes to mind, Lieutenant. That is, Jennifer Khaos was immobilized by shock because she knew her killer.” Confident, Sam sat looking straight into the lieutenant’s eyes.