He stares at me and I know the look well. He feels he is better than me. It’s not just in his narcissism about his looks, or his dominating height. Nope, this person is a full-on psycho with the idea that the world revolves around them. I love bringing these kinds of people back down to Earth. Kind of like the civil liberties argument. Some say my life is a sin, I simply say ‘I’ll save you a seat in hell.’ Conversation over. Stupidity and this type of domineering behavior shouldn’t be tolerated in today’s day and age. Yet, here I am in the office of said controlling person, and I am supposed to respect their idiocy. The older I get, the more I dislike what humanity has become.
“I have a team of lawyers that would eat those charges for breakfast.”
“Maybe,” I coolly state, “again, maybe not. You willing to take that chance?”
“I don’t know detective,” he leans forward on his desk, dark eyes focused solely on me, “are you?”
Will stands up, his hands balled into fists as he leans toward Brandt. I can’t help but smile guiltily. I’m enjoying this standoff. It’s kind of fun seeing what buttons I can push.
“If you would please get your hands off my client’s desk.” A woman says behind me. I was so focused on my enjoyment, I didn’t hear the door open. Bad Jasmine.
“You would be?” Will hastily asks her, his frustration oozing with every word.
“Mr. Brandt’s attorney.”
“Excellent, we have a warrant. So, you can make sure this individual here hands everything over to us. Then we’ll be on our way.” I tell her as I stand up and fix my shirt.
“No you don’t. Your warrant is a violation of several federal and state statutes. Therefore, the Judge Killian quashed it this morning.”
She pushes a folded piece of paper into my chest hard. She wants to play hardball. Okay, let’s play. I take hold of her hand and squeeze tightly. Leaning in closely, my mouth inches away from her ear.
“We’ll have the D.A. deal with this, but know this isn’t over.”
Letting go of her hand, I brush past her making my power known. I can hear Will grunt as he walks behind me. I have a feeling I am going to hear about this back at the precinct. Lord knows the woman is already on the phone with the D.A.’s office filing a complaint. Granted maybe I deserve it but people would probably file one if I posted too many bacon photos to my Twitter account. If I had one, that is. It’s not like I shot her while she was running away and she assaulted me first. Keep telling yourself that Jasmine.
***
Heading to work is always an annoying prospect. I either want to sleep in or be out on patrol. Anything to avoid doing paperwork, dealing with the office drama or my boss. I blame my issues with Officer Garrison taking over my case and then trying to kill me. It doesn’t feel safe like it used to. It’s like when you decide to date your ex again. Trust has to be built up again. You have to see if you actually work as a team or as individuals. It’s the same thing with anything really. I have to see if I even want to be in this building. I want the job, but maybe this building isn’t for me anymore.
The place is practically a ghost town and I’m hoping the captain is off somewhere else. Will dropped me off to go deal with his kids. Something about checking up on their social media profiles. I think he’s heading to the gym to blow off some steam first. He looked like he could punch a wall and rebuild it just to obliterate it again. I understand his pain.
“Detective Steele, a word in my office.”
Shit. This is where the ability to choose our path is non-existent. I would love to take the path more traveled and run the hell out of the building. It’s the safe route. The one that doesn’t leave a disciplinary note in my file. It’s also the one that could possibly lead to me being fired. Alas, I will do what every other grunt who needs to make a living and take it from the man in charge. Unless the lawyer chick didn’t call, then this would be a normal conversation among colleagues.
Walking through the office door, I see two shot glasses and a bottle of Patron on the desk. Captain Udall waves at me and I close the door with a loud, terrifying click. He points to the chair like a man picking out a good piece of steak. I sit and prepare to be roasted. He takes the seat next to me, in case he wants to choke me I guess.
“I got a nice phone call this morning from the powers that be. You pissed in someone’s coffee when you dealt with Brandt this morning.”
I stay silent as he pour two shots and hands me one.
“As of right now, we’re both off duty.”
He tips his head back and drains his glass. He stares at me expectantly and I don’t hesitate in drinking up.
“Want to explain to me what happened?” Tyler says as he fills our glasses again.
“Captain should we really be drinking here?”
“My office is like Vegas,” he mutters. “Unless I’m on duty or some high powered official is in here. Then it’s an open book.” He hands me my glass. I drain it quickly and slam it back on the desk.
“We showed up, he wasted our time until some chick walks in with a signed injunction. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“So, you didn’t threaten this high powered attorney with retribution?”
“What is it with these money people? Trust me cap, if I wanted to threaten her, she would have felt it.”
“Jasmine, we all know your bark is worse than your bite. All I know is the powers that be informed me that you are to stay away from Mr. Brandt, his offices and his lawyers until further notice.”
“If I refuse?”
“You’ll be arrested and that wouldn’t look very good for the creditability of the case. Not to mention Frankie would kill you.”
“Is it bad I’m more afraid of her than jail?” I joke as I pour another shot for the two of us.
“No, I’m more afraid of my wife as well. Nature of the ring on my hand.”
“I don’t have a ring on my finger.”
“No. You just keep that engagement ring in my home safe. You want it back?”
“Maybe. Eventually. Who the hell knows? I haven’t seen it since the night Henry died.”
“Then let me sell it and get a new one.”
“Tyler, that’s the one she picked out. That’s the one she’ll get if I ever give it to her.”
He leans back in the chair, sips the Patron and gives me a once over. I can see he’s trying to figure out what to say next or how to phrase it. Watching his eyes, the way they dart around, the way his forehead wrinkles and relaxes, speaks volumes. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I cut his thoughts off to save my own sanity.
“Okay. Then let’s talk about this case. Judge Killian signed the injunction.”
“Yea, something about violating some statutes.”
He takes another shot before closing the bottle. He stands, walks around his desk and pulls open the bottom drawer. He’s thinking, buying time to piece together his next words. He puts the bottle away, closes the drawer and leans on the desk facing me.
“What does your gut say?”
“Someone wants this to go away quickly. I have my suspicions about connections, but nothing solid. The one thing I know for sure is that evidence doesn’t lie. It’s thin, misleading and frankly a pain in the ass to find right now, but what we have points to Harry Brandt.”
“As the killer?”
“Plausible, but he could also be protecting the perp. The judge had no right to block our warrant. We need to know…”
“It was a long shot and you know it. Go back over everything. See if Victor found anything new. Talk to Mr. Morris. Maybe he’s remembered something that he’s willing to share. You never know what people will say when facing death or jail time. Whatever you need to do, do it. Now go home and start fresh tomorrow.”
I stand and feel a little wobbly on my feet. Never was a good drinker. I pull the door open to the quiet precinct.
“Oh and Jasmine?”
I turn a little too fast and hold onto the wall. Tyler looks at me seri
ously.
“One, get a rook to drive you home. Secondly, you ever pull that shit with a lawyer again and you’ll be suspended without pay. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
I walk out of his office and lean on the door. Some of it for balance, the rest to gather my thoughts. I don’t understand how a case with so much physical evidence is all circumstantial. It’s annoying. Technology has never been my friend but this is just plain obnoxious. It’s like the blind date who doesn’t take the hint when you give him the phone number of the local gas station or something. When they come across you by chance, they act like nothing happened. It’s stupid. This case is a flashing neon sign of screaming Captain Obvious and I can’t see it.
Chapter Eight
The hallways always look the same. Dark like out of a horror film. There’s no fog or mist or anything like that, but the walls have a watery film on them. As if the building had a fire a few days ago and it is slow to dry out. My mind is playing tricks on me again, this I know for a fact. Where I am, where I am going, no clue. Frankie always says to allow the dream to play out. They can be windows into the soul or a black hole sucking you into a darkness you can’t escape.
A light at the end of the hallway, how symbolically played out by that brain of mine. I lift my feet over the garbage on the floor and jump when a rat scurries away. I’d run away too if I knew how. It’s worse when they’re this vivid. The light flickers in front of me. Walk in and face my inner demons or stay here, bang my head against a wall and try to wake up.
Taking a deep breath, I lean back and swing my head forward connecting with the wall. Ouch and fuck come to mind.
“I guess waking up is not an option at this point. Hey, Frankie, wanna wake me up?”
Silence.
“Yeah, great, the one time I’m not talking in my sleep.”
Entering the bright light, my eyes fight to adjust to the change. Slowly shapes come into focus, the slick walls show of worn peeling paint. The floors just as dirty, no rats to be seen. Probably due to the light. It’s then that I hear a whimper coming from my left. Turning around I see a man lying on a rusted metal slab, his ankles and wrists bound. His skin clean and his clothes missing.
Cop training takes over and I jump three steps closer. Then my body stops, hard. There’s a tray with various knives and other torture devices. One looks like a corkscrew for a wine bottle, others look like clamps and some just look like something out of a medieval text book.
“I brought you a present,” the voice breathes onto my neck. The warmth causing my body to tense. My fists clench.
“None of this shit is real.”
“It is if you believe it is.”
“I don’t.”
His hands grab my biceps and squeeze. My body tightens, waiting for an opening to attack.
“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here. Your body wouldn’t respond to my touch, my breath on your neck.”
His hands slide down to my wrists and I am paralyzed. My brain says attack, you can easily break a hold now, but my body remains still.
“How does it feel seeing him again?” his feet shuffle my body closer no matter how hard I try to remain at a distance.
“I feel nothing.”
“Really?”
My body stops moving right next to the slab. Garrison walks around the assorted torture tools and looks at me.
“He didn’t listen to you. You begged and cried your little eyes out, but he just took what he wanted.”
“Dennis was my boyfriend.”
“Yes, he was. Still raped you every chance he got.”
Garrison looks at me closely as if waiting for a response.
“Unless you liked it,” he whispers as if it was taboo to say.
I can feel the anger in my boiling. One never asks to be abused, controlled and taken against their will. Even if they do want to go down the kinky trail, there is always a way to get off with a password or code or some shit. I want to scream. I do. I want to wake up. I want these nightmares to be over.
Garrison picks up the corkscrew-looking tool and hovers over Dennis’ body. He grazes the skin below the belly button and presses the sharp tip into the flesh. Red droplets form as a scream rips from Dennis’s chest into the air. Every fiber of my being tells me to stop this, but I sit and watch. Every twist pushes the tool deeper. Screams louder. They start to sound like mine.
“Jasmine, is that you? Baby, please make this stop. It hurts,” Dennis says to the ceiling. His blindfold preventing him from seeing me.
“Please stop,” the words come out of my mouth barely audible. I feel the tears hot on my cheeks. I don’t want to relive this nightmare anymore.
“Why? He didn’t stop when you asked. Repeatedly I might add.” He twists the tool slower, causing more torturous pain.
“I’m asking you to stop.” My voice comes out a little firm this time. Slight confidence behind the words as my rational brain catches up to my anger. Garrison’s hands stop. He walks behind me and slides his arms around my waist.
“You’re right, I should stop. This isn’t my battle to fight.”
His fingers entwine with mine as he lifts my hand onto the corkscrew. My hand flexes with all my power, trying to distance myself from the device. The pressure of my palm pushes the tool deeper into the torn flesh.
“Fucking bitch, make this shit stop! I swear to God, when I’m free you’re gonna get it.”
Times like these my mind floats away, far away where nothing can harm it. Even in nightmares, we need a safe place. It’s where my family is, calm and at rest. Garrison’s laughter brings my brain smashing back to reality.
My hand is covered in blood. The corkscrew so deeply embedded in his flesh it’s hit bone. Garrison smiles at me, holds up a knife and cuts one of Dennis’ restraints. My heart races, my mind unclear. There’s blood on my hands, how figurative. I’ve killed Officer James in self defense but his blood is still on my hands. I fall to the floor and crawl backwards until my back hits the wall. Something I’ve done many times in my life. Rocking back and forth, banking my head against the wall. Trying to wake myself up from this horrible dream.
My eyes open to the see the side of my mattress. My knees pulled to my chest tightly, tears stain my pajama pants. My heart unsettled and racing. My hands are clean, but they feel sullied. There’s a darkness in me rolling around looking for a place. If I can’t contain it, it will consume me.
***
The greenest lawns in the entire world are in a cemetery. Everything perfectly manicured, the roads paved and pristine. For the morbidly inclined like myself, it makes feel like the dead are better off. The grass is crisp, flowers fresh, and it’s quiet. You can think here. There is no judgment. Whatever happened before you entered these hallowed grounds are long forgotten. Then again, most of the stones in here have been forgotten. No one to kneel down and say farewell. No living family member who they are let alone where they are buried. Lives that meant so much to various people, whittled away to nothing more than a stone with a name on it.
No matter how hard I fight it, I know my stone will rest here someday. I know I will lie among my family and Chase will visit for a time, but that will pass. Time will move on from me and I will be nothing. There will be no footnote in history. No mention of Jasmine Steele anywhere. There will be bones in a box under a stone.
Tracing the outline of my mother’s name, I promise as long as I breathe I will not forget her. Even though in life, she forgot me. She gives me more comfort now being gone than I think she was capable of in life. She was so very tired. She needed to run away. I needed to let her. Now she is always here for me, even if she never replies.
“It’s pretty here with the flowers starting to bloom, mom. Lord knows grandma would be sneezing her head off while trying to pick every damn weed that dared to break the dirt line.”
Leaning on my heels, I look at my brother’s stone. Henry and Belinda Steele, carved into a cold empty slab. The hurt and loss st
ill lingers, but less with each passing day.
“Chase looks more like Henry each day but I swear his personality is all Belinda. His quick wit, humor and his ability to beat me at video games. That is all your daughter-in-law. Don’t get me started on his eating habits. Frankie swears he eats cookies like I did, but I never shoveled food into my mouth like that. He holds that fork like a fly swatter, ready to destroy whatever is on his plate. His appetite is outrageous too! Then again I never had a kid before so this could all be normal.”
I mindlessly pull at the weeds hidden in the grass in front of my mother. I can feel the tears of frustration begin to form and I truly want to fight them off. I know it’s a war I won’t win. I’m tired, drained. One hundred percent unequivocally shot. I don’t know how much more my body can take. One way or another I have to deal with my nightmares.
“You’d be going nuts right now, yelling at me for not sleeping and eating like crap. Probably telling me all about adoption, how hard it is here and maybe a foreign child wouldn’t be easier. If Henry was here, he’d be acting all protective, but things would be different. I try not to think about that now.”
The wind picks up causing a chill to race up my spine. Hadley would be telling me my family is here with me with every breeze. I’m more realistic. I know if they’re somewhere else, they have better things to do than worry about me. The tears fall with the air hitting my face.
“I wish you were here to help me. Sometimes I just wish I could hug you again, mom. Just once…”
My cell phone annoys me ringing at the most inopportune time.
“Steele.”
“Ms. Steele, it’s nice to finally speak to you.”
“Who’s this?”
“You’ve been digging around, Ms. Steele, and I don’t like it. I feel since you have discovered so much about me, it’s time to meet in person.”
“Mr. Garrison, how did you get this number?”
“I have my ways, Ms. Steele. I will be at the park in an hour by the children’s playground. You wouldn’t shoot a man in front of children, would you Ms. Steele?”
Melting Steele Page 12
