Lauren

by Laura Marie Henion

  * * * *

  Lauren pulled the navy blue, unmarked police car up in front of the small house, just before downtown Mount Vernon. It used to be a cute little neighborhood many years ago, she could tell, but now most of the homes weren't well maintained, and a lot of gang bangers frequented the streets.

  The house that Pam Kline lived in was run down, and appeared to be infested with cats.

  She and Eddie walked up the old, broken, and cracked blacktop driveway, being careful not to trip in the holes.

  The picket fence, along with the front gate, was dirty brown, and embedded in overgrown weeds. Grass clung to the gate's final hinge. It looked like its days were limited, and the next strong wind would be sure to lay it to rest.

  The garbage-cluttered, wooden front porch wasn't any better. Both Lauren and Eddie cautiously stepped, one at a time, across each rotting plank of wood. Eddie knocked on the door.

  A moment later, the door opened, and Silver's Aunt Pam, emerged looking just as weathered and unkempt as the house she resided in. An intense smell of urine and cat feces greeted them. Combined with the 90 F temperature, there was no way in hell she and Eddie were entering the house.

  The older woman had nappy gray and black hair. It appeared infested with bugs, Lauren was certain. As she got a closer look, she saw the dirt on Pam's scalp, as well as her arms and neck.

  The woman was thin, and her wrinkles were lined with dirt. It was nauseating.

  "You da cop I spoke ta?"

  When Lauren thought it couldn't get any worse, she was granted a closer look at the woman's nasty, yellowed teeth. She was sure Pam didn't know what a toothbrush was, never mind a dentist.

  She also noted Pam's strange accent. It was a combination of the Bronx and intoxication.

  Lauren questioned why the hell they were here? Still, she maintained her professionalism. “Yes, ma'am. I'm Detective Phelps, and this is Lieutenant Tennellie. We're conducting an investigation into your nephew, Ben Silver."

  "Yeah, yeah, I know aw aboud dat. I seens da paypas. I knewd dat kid was gung be fucked up, if he survived, what his slut of a mudder put ‘em trough,” Pam told her, as she picked up one of the numerous, mangy stray cats that now walked around Lauren and Eddie's feet.

  Eddie moved his foot, but Lauren seemed oblivious to the nuisance.

  "Maybe you can tell us a little bit about Ben and his mother? Where he grew up, and if he owned any property anywhere?” Lauren asked.

  "Day dudden't owned shit, and I haven't seen Ben since he wers a punk assed kud. That boy raised humself. I was married to his mudder's brudder, the low life asshole. I wasn't bout ta taken in no fucked up kid. Tat whole family needing ther heads exsamminned,” Pam carried on, as she snuggled her face against the cat she still held.

  "You keep saying he was fucked up. What do you mean?” Eddie said.

  Lauren was surprised he'd kept up with everything the old lady was saying. She wasn't sure if Pam's weird accent was the result of drunkenness, or a hangover

  "I means dat kid was always messin round, abbusin tings, and de-stroying stuff. His mudder woud beat ‘im stupid, in between screwin round wit as many men as would have ‘er. Somehow, da kid started working, earnings his own money, and finisheded school. But, I ain't suprised he done started raping and killing women. The whole family was screwed up,” she repeated.

  "Any idea if he owned other property, or a house somewhere other than Creek Valley?” Lauren said.

  "I dunno shit, and I dun't care. Like I told yous, he raised humself, and I didn't want any part of it. Why dun't you come inside now? I gots cats ta feed.” Pam turned to head back inside the house.

  "That's okay, Miss Kline. We got enough. We appreciate you taking the time to talk with us. If you remember anything else, please give me a call.” Lauren handed the lady her card.

  Pam stared at it, then placed it in the torn pocket of the nightdress she wore. She rolled her eyes, and went back inside.

  Lauren and Eddie got back into the car, thankful for the air conditioning, and to be away from the wicked stench.

  "That was disgusting. How the hell does someone live like that? Isn't it a health hazard for the neighbors?” Eddie said, as they started to drive down the street.

  A group of young guys stood on the corner, wearing their red bandannas, looking ready to carjack the vehicle. He placed his hand on his revolver.

  "Right there, Eddie. Those are health hazards.” Lauren watched the gang, as she slowed the car down. They seemed like they could care less, exchanging evil looks, as she drove out of neighborhood.

  "How the hell do you deal with this shit every day?” Eddie said.

  "You get used to it,” She told him.

  Then, they discussed the information from Pam, while on their way back to the precinct.

  * * * *

  An hour later, Eddie headed back upstate, while Lauren and the others continued their investigation.

  "Hey, Lauren, it looks like the roommate was killed. The file shows it as an isolated incident, and no suspects were ever found."

  "So, it could've been our man?"

  "Very good possibility. No fingerprints left behind, so we can't make a concrete connection. How did things go with the aunt?” Jack said.

  She told him about the house, the neighborhood, and Pam Kline.

  "How was Tennellie?"

  "A little shell shocked, but he fell into the groove. I'm sure he'll be telling Ken and the guys stories, when he gets back."

  They were laughing, when her cell phone rang. “Detective Phelps."

  Music came through the receiver. “You're mine ... and we belong together..."

  Lauren's mouth dropped open.

  Jack took the phone from her. He listened in on the call, and waved Tom McNulty over. The phone disconnected, and there was no time for identification on the Caller ID.

  "This is not good, Lauren. That was him,” Jack said, a bit too loud.

  She grabbed Jack by the arm, and told him to be quiet. “You don't know that. I've had my face plastered all over the goddamn papers and television. Some asshole could just be messing around."

  "No way. The public wouldn't know about the words,” Tom said.

  "There's no need to freak out. That's what he wants. He wants to rattle me, get me to make a mistake, lose it, and I'm not going to."

  "This is serious.” Tom said.

  "It's not serious. Let's keep this between us, for now, and see what he does."

  "No, Lauren, this is not a guy to mess around with. Is this the first time he's tried to contact you?” Jack said.

  "Yes. What, do you think I wouldn't tell you? I didn't have to let you hear that call. I could have just hung up."

  "Oh, so now you're working alone?” Tom said, raising his voice, and pointing his finger at her.

  She looked around. Everyone was watching, obviously wondering what was happening. She touched Tom's hand, bringing down his finger.

  "Of course not. I know this is serious, but let's be real. He wants me to play this sick game of his. First the locket, now the phone call. This could be our only way of catching him. Please, let's keep this between us."

  Both Jack and Tom stood there, obviously thinking about it.

  "For now, Lauren, but you go nowhere alone or without checking in,” Jack said.

  "Fine,” she said, and they went back to work.

  * * * *

  By 6:00 p.m., she headed home, accompanied by Jack. “This really isn't necessary. I'm armed, fully trained..."

  "He's a psycho who cannot be underestimated. I'm not taking any chances."

  Jack walked her to her front door. Tucked in the screen door, was a single red rose, and a cassette tape with her name on it.

  "Don't touch it, Lauren. Let's call this in.” Jack pulled out his cell phone.

  She grew angrier and angrier, as she pulled out her weapon and opened the front door.

  "Wait."

  She turned toward him. “No! He may be i
n there, Jack, and there are two of us. Let's go. You already called it in."

  He nodded, then pulled out his revolver.

  They slowly entered her house, hearing sirens in the distance. She flicked on the lights. There was nothing out of place. They followed one another room to room, prepared to fire. The first floor was clear. They made their way upstairs, to the bedroom.

  She opened the door, and was shocked at the sight before her. Her negligees, undergarments, bras, and panties were torn and scattered around the bedroom. A three-foot tall, anatomically correct doll lay tied down on her bed. She was bound and chained up, like a sex slave.

  Lauren shivered, as she heard the police sirens again. They were closer, now. Moments later, uniformed officers entered the downstairs. She placed her weapon back into the holster, as Jack went to let the other cops know the house was clear, and they were upstairs.

  Tom McNulty and two patrol officers stood in the hallway, while Lauren just stared at the mess. She was stunned, horrified, that this monster had been in her home and touched her things.

  Tom put his arms around her shoulders. “Let's get you downstairs, and get forensics in here."

  She shrugged his hands away from her, in anger. “What for? We know it's him."

  "Because we have to. Come on."

  "No, Lieu. I want to be sure everything is done correctly. He left fingerprints. He doesn't care.” The technicians looked at her. She knew how she sounded.

  "They'll do a good job, Phelps. Let's go.” She glanced at the people who filled her bedroom. She didn't mean to insult them. She just wanted the job done right.

  "We'll take care of everything, Detective Phelps. No one messes with one of our own,” Luther, one of the technicians, said, with confidence.

  The others in the room nodded in agreement, and went to work.

  "Come on."

  * * * *

  She stood in the living room, giving a report to the officer, and Jack did the same.

  "You're staying at my place tonight,” Tom told her.

  "No. I'm staying here, cleaning this mess up, and getting an early start in the morning."

  "Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

  Lauren's cell phone rang. At first, she was nervous that it could be the killer. That he would be playing the damn song again. But, the anger took control and she answered the phone firmly, while Tom listened in.

  "Detective Phelps."

  "Lauren! My God, it's Eddie. What's going on? Are you all right?"

  "Eddie, how did you?” She stopped, and looked at Tom. He pretended innocence, shrugging his shoulders, then protected himself, as she attempted a right hook. She missed, and he laughed, then walked away.

  "Lauren? Are you still there?"

  "Yes, Eddie, I am. I'm sorry Tom called you. Everything is fine."

  "No, it's not fine. I'm going to leave, now. I don't want you alone in that house. This is a major problem."

  "I know that, but it's fine. Don't come here. You don't want to see this."

  "Then you drive to my place, stay here tonight, and leave in the morning. I want to see you."

  After another minute of arguing, she agreed. The truth was she felt violated, invaded, and as the house cleared of her fellow men and women in blue, she was no longer at ease.

  "So, are you headed up north?” Tom said, after the forensics team finished up.

  She gave him a dirty look, and he moved closer, so no one could hear. “I know you, kid. You're trying to act so damn tough, but this is not a time to handle things on your own. I like Tennellie, and I think you would be safe with him, at his place."

  "Why did you call him? You had no right to interfere like that, Tom. I don't need a man to take care of me. I'm a trained professional."

  "I know that, Lauren. So, don't even go there. You're stubborn as hell. Do you know that?"

  She was still a bit angry. She wasn't sure where the relationship between Eddie and her was going, and now Tom wanted to play cupid.

  He put his hand on her shoulder. “I called him because he had a right to know. He's involved with this case, too, and he cares about you, just like the rest of us.

  So, go to his place, spend the night. No one but the three of us has to know."

  * * * *

  Everyone cleared out of the house. Lauren and Tom cleaned up the remaining mess.

  She held back the tears as she sorted her clothes, and lingerie that had been scattered around the room. She was so mad, she wanted to scream. The tears burned her eyes, but refused to fall.

  As if sensing her anger, Tom attempted to lighten things up. “Hey, there's a positive side to all this mess."

  She glanced over at him. He knelt on the floor, with a pile of her shirts, bras, and undergarments. Raising her eyebrow, she waited for his reasoning in making such a statement.

  "I always wondered what bra size you were, and the type of panties you like to wear."

  She threw one of her shoes at him. Tom attempted to dodge it, but his shoulder took the brunt of the hit. Laughing, he filtered through the pile of torn undergarments in front of him, on the floor.

  "I bet I could make a lot of money selling these to the highest bidder."

  "Tom!” she yelled at him.

  He laughed, then she placed her hand on her firearm, by her hip, in warning. He released his hold on the garments, and raised his hands in the air, palm forward, giving up. She shook her head, while he continued to laugh, and made little comments to lighten her mood. He was a great friend.

  She gathered what she could and packed a bag. He followed her in his car, until she was at the bridge. Then, she was on her own, to Eddie's. Eddie insisted that she keep the phone on, and he called her every ten minutes. She followed his directions, and met him at his house, outside of Ridgeburgh.

  * * * *

  It was a warm, clear summer night. The stars shone brightly above, as Lauren drove through the town and the neighborhoods. She saw people outside, enjoying the weather. Parents sat on their front porches, watching their children play, or catch fireflies, as the night moved in. Teenagers and young college kids hung out in town, by the local theatre and mall.

  Some yards had aboveground pools, and she noticed people night swimming. It was the perfect evening for such a pleasure.

  The scene brought happy thoughts of childhood memories, and innocence lost from living life, with its ups and downs, its gains and losses.

  Somewhere out there, on this breathtaking summer night, a killer stayed free, perhaps searching for his next prey. She felt him in the shadows, sensed his strength, his feeling of power.

  Lauren wanted nothing more than to take that power away from him. Remove one more evildoer from the streets, allowing the community of people, young women particularly, to live in less fear.

  She pulled into the private cul-de-sac, just outside of town. There was Eddie, leaning against his black Ford Explorer. He looked fantastic, in his dark blue jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. He told her to pull alongside his car in the driveway.

  She stepped out of the car, wearing a designer pair of hip-hugger blue jeans and a champagne-colored, beaded camisole. Eddie gave her the once over and licked his lips, pulling her into his arms. He embraced her tightly, then his hands roamed possessively across her backside.

  "Are you okay? I was worried,” he spoke softly, with obvious concern.

  She kept her arms wrapped around his neck, then she hugged him again, surprised at how much she needed to be held by him.

  * * * *

  Eddie slid his fingers through her long brown hair. He knew Lauren was tough. He didn't want to come across overly macho or possessive, but he couldn't help it. He was so concerned, so worried about her safety. He wanted to keep her right by his side, until this case was solved. With a woman like Lauren, that would never happen.

  He possessively glided his hand across her backside, then stopped to let his hand linger, as if he had every right to, and it was the most natural thing to do.
>
  "The jeans are nice, and you fill them in nicely, too."

  She smiled. He let go of her to retrieve her bag from the car, then wrapped his arm around her waist and led her inside.

  As soon as they were in the house, he pulled her close again, kissing her deeply.

  "Damn it, Lauren, I don't like this. I don't like the game Silver is playing. Thank God he wasn't there waiting for you."

  She placed her fingertips over his lips. “Please, let's not talk about it. I'm fine, and I'm here. Tomorrow, early, I'm headed back to the city. We're close. I can feel it. Now, show me around your home."

  He kissed her one more time, and kept his hands on her hips. Her stomach was flat, and her arms defined, sexy, and glistening with some wonderfully scented perfume.

  She grabbed his hand and started walking. His heart beat rapidly at the sight of her. All he wanted to do was hold her, protect her, but she was so independent. She had every right to be, and she had a role to play, and a job where the weak made mistakes. A mistake could mean the difference between life and death.

  He tried his hardest to respect that side of Lauren, but he didn't want anything to happen to her. Maybe, if he had been just a bit more protective of Sarah, things would have turned out differently. He didn't want to make a mistake like that again, but how could Lauren understand his protectiveness, and need to keep her safe, if she had no idea about his past?

  She turned back to smile at him, as they held hands and toured his home.

  * * * *

  Eddie's home was a typical one level ranch, with lots of windows, and a large deck with a hot tub, in an enclosed area on the porch.

  The kitchen was country style, with plaids, and Tuscan colors, and décor. He had a wine refrigerator, and all stainless steel appliances. The tile floor looked like natural stone, in beige and brown colors. It went wonderfully with the dark brown, marble counter tops.

  Copper pots and pans covered the large pot rack that decorated the ceiling, above the rectangular island.

  The living room had a stone fireplace, along with dark brown leather couches.

  There was a great room Eddie used as an office and a workout area. It was loaded with free weights, workbenches, and various other machines.