Promised Box Set

by James Kipling

  “That we’ll have to find out. We’re very early in our investigation. We’ll need to take the computer with us. It might give us some more clues.”

  “Fine. Take whatever will help you find my daughter’s killer.” She was on the verge of tears again.

  “Hey, Chelsea, look at this,” Dean called from where he had been looking through the books and papers scattered about.

  He was holding stack of papers which he handed to her.

  Skimming the first one, she realized it was an unsigned love note. Was it written by her boyfriend or was there someone else? She decided to also take the note to the station. They could compare it with anything they got that was written by Austin.

  “Well, I think we have everything we need for the moment, Mrs. Thompson.” Then her eye caught a picture of Ashlee and her father standing together. Ashlee as wearing a low cut blouse and there was a gold locket hanging around her neck. It looked like the part of the locket she had found at the murder scene.

  “Did you daughter wear that locket every day?”

  “Yes she did. It was a gift from her father several years back. Why do you ask?”

  “Near to where we found her, there was a part of a locket looking just like the one in the picture, and we weren’t sure if it belonged to her.”

  “Then it’s hers alright. Please find whoever did this to my baby girl. They took her away too soon.” The tears ran down her face unchecked.

  “We will, Mrs. Thompson,” Chelsea said, trying to reassure her in her grief. “We will do everything we possibly can to find that person and bring him to justice, I promise you.”

  “Thank you,” she said between sobs.

  On their way to the station, Chelsea let Dean drive while she mulled it all over. Everything she had seen and heard, and Mrs. Thompson’s grief. She wondered if people realized how fragile life was and that you could be here today and gone tomorrow. The gift of life was so precious, we should nurture it and not have it snuffed out so wantonly. She thought of the pictures of Ashlee smiling so broadly and thought of what a terrible waste of a bright young life this was.

  She remembered as a child, how she never thought she could lose her parents. She thought they were indestructible, that they would live on forever. But everything changed that morning when she found their bodies. She was wrong. Bad things did happen to good people and there seemed to be no explanation for that. To make matters worse, some of the bad people escaped every attempt to bring them to justice. She decided to become a police officer to reduce the chances of this happening, so that fewer people would be left without answers, as she was. She only hoped she could provide those answers, instead of leaving the death of their loved one shrouded in mystery and a source of constant torment.

  Dean broke into her thoughts by commenting, “Things like this bring back memories of your own situation. That’s what makes you even more determined than ever to get justice.”

  He was very perceptive, but she said nothing about that.

  “I became a cop so I could help people,” she said evenly. “I never had answers about the deaths of my parents, but I tell myself that if I do my job well, others will have them. Not knowing who did such a terrible thing, and why—it consumes you and it can drive you crazy. Most people who have had loved ones murdered always wonder if there was something they could have done differently to prevent it from happening. Sometimes the burden of guilt becomes almost unbearable.

  “How come you never asked anyone for help? I know you want answers just as much as anybody else does.”

  They stopped at a red light and her eyes met his. “You certainly know how to ask probing questions. And you have gotten me to say things I’ve kept locked up inside and never said to anyone before. I can’t help wondering why you are so curious. Is there some ulterior motive behind all this?

  “Don’t worry. I’m this way with everyone I work with, so don’t think it’s just you. Plus, I’m a student of human nature. I like to know what makes people tick. When you understand others, then your relationship with them will be better.”

  As an afterthought he added, “Maybe if you were more open with other people you might find that it’s not so bad after all.” He was smiling as he spoke.

  This man had a certain knack of making her angry and drawing her out of her shell at the same time. “I just don’t like talking about myself or anything that has happened, because I don’t want anyone’s pity. Plus, I don’t want to seem weak.”

  “Keeping silent doesn’t make you not seem weak, but when you put up walls it makes them wonder what you are hiding. Besides, how are you supposed to ever have a relationship with anyone if you are afraid to be honest?”

  “Who said I was afraid?” she asked sharply.

  “Don’t lie. Come on. I can bet you are afraid of getting too close to anyone in case you lose them. But we all have to go sometime, so we might as well enjoy the fleeting moments of happiness we get, rather than hold it at bay out of fear. That just guarantees you’ll be alone.”

  She resorted to silence in order to end his unsolicited analysis of her life. Dean’s comments were so true, but she was not ready to admit it, least of all to him. Her initial anger was dissipating as she pondered what he had just said. It was so ironic that her job was based on knowing people—their intentions and motivation for doing the things they did. Yet here she was hiding from the realities of her own life and a past that still haunted her.

  He was also right about her avoidance of intimate relationships out of fear, so afraid of losing someone she loved, just as she had lost her parents. Would she be able to get over that and learn to trust again? She glanced quickly across at Dean. Was he offering her a way out? Was this a chance to test herself and see if she could really escape her past? Yet she couldn’t help wondering where all this was leading. Obviously, he was attracted to her and she could say the same about him. But was she ready for any kind of personal involvement, especially with someone from work?

  Somewhere, deep within her lurked a feeling of unease or fear, maybe. She couldn’t quite say what it was and why. Maybe, it was her cautious nature acting up as usual. Was she being paranoid or simply afraid? Perhaps, it was time to find out.

  Taking a deep breath, she found herself saying, “You might have a point. But you should know it is going to take me a while to learn how to share my thoughts and feelings with someone.”

  “Well, at least acknowledging that for starters is a small step in the right direction.”

  Chapter 4

  It was nearly an hour later and the rain had picked up again. Thunder cracked and rain pounded on the roof. Somehow, it created a peaceful feeling and she felt more relaxed than she had been for a long time. Maybe it was more than the rain, but her opening up to someone else. Perhaps her therapist was right after all. She should tell her this on her next visit.

  Scanning the many lists to try and figure out where Austin Rodriquez lived was proving to be tedious. Her eyes were beginning to water from looking at the computer screen too long. Then her phone rang.

  “Madden,” she said, as she held the phone between her shoulder and ear.

  “Hey, we’ve finally figured out who made the phone call,” Pierce said. “His name is Justin Quincy and he lives right across the street. He also has a record and he just got out of jail on parole.”

  “Why was he locked up?”

  “Attempted murder of his girlfriend, Susan Wright, a few years ago. He somehow paid his way out of prison and now is a free man. If he’s our guy, then maybe this wasn’t a personal killing after all.”

  “Okay, do you want us to go pick him up?”

  “No, they’ll be bringing him to us. I’ll be there in a few minutes so wait until I get there before you start the interrogation.”

  “I can do that. When are you going to bring Jeanine Groves in? She’s a good suspect for this. She has a long list of assaults.”

  “I sent an of
ficer to her home but she wasn’t there. We will be waiting for her when she shows though, and we will surely get her.”

  The call ended and she turned to see Weston scribbling something down in his notebook. Getting up from her desk, she walked over towards him and stood behind him.

  “What are you writing?”

  He tensed up as he turned towards her. He moved out of the way so she could take a look at his screen. He was making notes about Ashlee.

  “Did you find anything useful?”

  His hand went to his mouse and he showed her his progress. “I am trying to figure out if anyone in her day to day life could have anything to do with her murder.”

  “Good idea, but you might be wasting your time. The man who called in the murder is now being brought in for questioning. He may just be our man. Pull up Justin Quincy’s file.”

  Within seconds his file flashed onto the screen. He looked like your normal every day guy you would see on the streets. But his rap sheet was anything but normal. There were two previous reports of domestic violence; he did time for possession of drugs; and as a teenager he had shoplifted a handful of times. Her eyes scanned the rest of his file. All this would come in handy during the interrogation.

  “Dean, could you pull up that case with him regarding Susan Wright.”

  The file showed that the night he was arrested, he was screened for drugs and tested positive for lysergic acid diethylamide. For whatever reason, he had refused his rights to an attorney and went on to plead innocent. He told the jury that Susan had spiked his food with acid and provoked him when he was high. The jury convicted him and he only did five years.

  “When was he released?”

  “On the fourteenth,” he said. “He hasn’t even been out for more than a week!”

  “Do you think he is the murderer or that it was personal?”

  He paused for a moment, looking back at her. “Yes, I still think it was personal. Although this guy has a rap sheet a mile high, I don’t think he is the type who would kill randomly without some sort of cause. Plus, look at him, he is eighty pounds overweight, and even if Ashlee was recovering from an injury she could have outrun him quite easily.”

  Silent for a moment, she ran through all the possibilities and had to admit he had a point. They heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Pierce approaching.

  “What do the two of you think about this guy?”

  “He is scum, but we don’t think he’s our guy.”

  Carson shook his head. “I don’t agree. They found her blood on his clothes and shoes. But let’s wait until the interrogation is over, then we’ll get a clearer picture. Let’s go, they are ready for us.”

  “We, as in all three of us?”

  “Yes. You should see how an interrogation works. Plus you know how to talk to thugs like him.”

  As they headed for the interrogation room, Chelsea noticed how empty the place was. There were only two other agents that worked in this department, much less than what they needed. This led to too many unsolved murders due to shortage of staff to carry out the investigations. Plus there were those who went missing and were never found. She wished she had the power to do something about the lack of staffing, but she did not.

  When they arrived at the interrogation room they saw Quincy sitting there looking very calm. He was no longer as heavy as his mug shot, so maybe he could have been the killer. So what would have motivated him to have committed the crime? As she watched him closely, she noticed that he did not seem to be fazed by the situation. And why should he be. He knew the system inside out, and probably also knew how they were going to approach him. It was already arranged for Pierce to take the lead and then hand it over to her.

  They entered the room.

  “Mr. Quincy,” Pierce said, as he took a seat. “I am Detective Pierce Carson and these are my partners, Detectives Chelsea Madden and Dean Weston. We want to talk to you about Ashlee Thompson. We found her body because of a phone call we received this morning. Know anything about that?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never made any phone call.”

  “Yes, you did. We were able to trace the call back to you. We even have your voice on tape,” Pierce continued.

  “And we are sure that the blood samples we found in your apartment when we picked you up will be hers.”

  “All I did was make a call like a good citizen, what’s wrong with that?” he asked angrily.

  “Oh, so now you’re admitting to the call. What else are you not telling us?”

  “You can stop grilling me. I didn’t do it.”

  Pierce was not done yet. He fired several more questions at him, but Quincy refused to answer. Finally he spoke.

  “I’m not saying anything else to you, Detective. I’ll only speak to Detective Madden.”

  Chelsea looked surprised at the request. Why me, she wondered.

  “Really,” Pierce said evenly. “Why is that, might I ask?”

  “I don’t have to tell you, but that’s how it is going to be…”

  Chelsea watched as Pierce’s brow furrowed. He looked over towards her and she knew he was waiting for her to say something. But she could think of nothing. The request took her by surprise. For a moment she thought of denying his request, but it might get them what they needed. She nodded

  Carson and Weston went out leaving her alone with Quincy. She got to her feet and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do you only want to speak with me?”

  “Because I know you, but you don’t know me. Or at least not yet.”

  Hearing him say this made her blood go cold, but she recovered and wondered what sort of game he was playing. Well, she would see. She decided to play it tough.

  “I know you have a rap sheet a mile high. You started out with petty crimes and things got worse around the age of twenty. That is also about the same time your mother passed away.”

  He looked a bit put out when she said that. She continued.

  “You never loved your mother and you never even knew who your father was. Well, let me tell you this. I know your mother was a whore and you knew it from a young age. She only kept you around so she could get benefits from the state, but she never loved you. No—she barely even knew you were there. You rebelled and started getting mixed up in crime to get the attention you so badly needed.”

  He stared blankly ahead, trying to control himself. She continued.

  “But your mother still didn’t notice. Instead, she got married to some schmuck who had a fat wallet, but he didn’t treat you right. You began to spiral downward when he died, because you thought with him out of the way, it was finally your chance to win over your mother’s affections. But that didn’t work either.”

  “You have no idea what you are talking about, you fucking bitch!”

  “I don’t? So set me straight. Tell me why you attacked and killed an innocent young woman?”

  He didn’t answer immediately and continued.

  “People like you are easy to figure out. Your girlfriend didn’t spike your food. You are a well-known drug user and most likely a dealer, too. But, your weakness is that you are both dealing and using drugs. That’s not so smart. I’m sure if we tested you right now we would find only one drug.

  Slightly taken aback for a moment, he asked, “Why do you think I would test positive for only one drug?”

  “Because I know that meth is your favorite.”

  “Why would you say something like that?”

  “I told you, I have you all figured out and I know everything about you. That’s why I know you killed that girl today.”

  As she spoke, she kept searching his face for any indicator that she was on the right path. But he gave her nothing.

  “And you didn’t kill her randomly, but because she must have stumbled across something and you thought she was a threat to you.”

  He sprang up out of the chair. “How many times do I ha
ve to tell you I didn’t kill her?” He shouted and moved toward her.

  The door burst open and Pierce entered the room, grabbing Quincy and forcing him back down into the seat. He then beckoned to Chelsea to go. But she did not.

  “Just give me another minute, Pierce, please.”

  “Then I’m going to stay.”

  She looked at Justin and waited for him to say something, anything, now that he was goaded.

  It was not long in coming.

  “You pigs think you know everything! Well, you don’t. You are just trying to pin this on me so you can say it’s been solved. None of you have any idea what you are doing. You’re just looking for a scapegoat. Well, it isn’t going to work this time. I demand to be released. You have nothing on me.”

  “Not yet.” Chelsea replied.

  “You have no reason to detain me, bitch! I know my rights!”

  “True, but how do you explain her blood being on your clothes? The lab test just confirmed that.” Pierce told him.

  He quietened down a little and changed his belligerent tone.

  “I am going to say this once, and you’d better believe me, because it’s true. Early that morning as I went to take out the trash I looked over the park in the faint morning light. I thought I saw someone bending over another person on the ground. I thought it looked suspicious, so I shouted. The person ran off and when I went to look I saw her lying on the ground. She was on her side and not moving. I turned her over for a closer look. There was blood everywhere. That’s when I called the cops and disappeared. With my record, I didn’t want to get involved. If I was the murderer, do you think I would have called you guys?”

  Pierce looked at Chelsea who returned his gaze. What Quincy said sounded plausible. But one never knows with these criminal types. They have been in and out of the system so many times that they know how to tell a good story.

  “Maybe it was your guilt at murdering a complete stranger that made you make that call,” Chelsea said.

  It was only the strong arms of Pierce restraining him that kept Quincy from leaping across the table and grabbing her by the throat. This did not prevent him from speaking his mind.