Derek, Gabriel and Ruben had also all been obedient through booking. They were informed of the nature of the likely charges so they knew the basics were required and any refusal there would reflect badly on them down the line. They submitted to Gunshot Residue Tests which can show if a suspect has recently fired a gun. This had to be done immediately, preferably within one hour of the crime, no more than three, and before fingerprinting. They gave mug shots. They had their clothing taken as evidence and placed in paper bags. Photographs of their bodies were taken to show any defensive wounds the victims may have inflicted.
A male nurse had come over from the local hospital and administered a Suspect Sexual Assault Evidence Kit. Derek and the others went through blood draws to test for drug/alcohol levels and DNA typing. They gave fingernail scrapings for possible evidence. They all allowed their pubic regions to be brushed and additional genital hair reference samples as well as head hair samples were collected. The part Derek and Gabriel enjoyed most was when the penile and scrotal swabs were applied to collect any blood, semen or saliva stains on their skin. Moistened with distilled water, the swabs were moved in a continuous rotating motion to ensure uniformity, sampling the area around their scrotums in addition to the head, shaft and base of each of their penises.
After all this was done, Derek, Gabriel and Ruben were given standard issue jumpsuits.
Ruben was dressed like this when a beefy patrolman fished him out of his cell.
“You can bring out the first one.” Crotty had told the patrolman over the intercom who led the drowsy Ruben, slouched and shuffling in leg irons, into the center of the inner corridor where another beefy patrolman helped hold Ruben upright before the observation glass.
“He’s one of them.” Anderson stated clearly, hiding his revulsion.
“You’re sure?” Crotty asked for confirmation. “Obviously you’re not seeing them in the same clothes or setting as they appeared earlier at your home.”
“I got a very good look at them.” Anderson assured him.
Crotty knocked on his side of the glass, giving the signal, and Ruben was returned to his cell.
Once Ruben’s cell door was shut, another interior meshed-glass door could be closed in his section of lockup effectively sealing him off from the second cell where Gabriel was situated. The beefy patrolman waited for the other door to close before the programmed interlocking sequence allowed him to open the door to Gabriel’s compartment. He yanked opened the cell door and motioned Gabriel into the corridor. Gabriel hobbled up to the glass, making some effort to hold his head up.
“Yes, he was there, too.” Anderson nodded.
Crotty rapped the glass and Gabriel was put back in his cell.
Soon it was Derek’s turn to be brought front and center. Derek seemed much more awake than the others though he affected the same world-weary wilt. Derek was also the better-built of the three so the patrolmen were especially vigilant as they led him before the glass.
Anderson hesitated to affirm Derek as one of the three. Not because he wasn’t sure Derek was one of the men at his house. He knew Derek was the clear ringleader of the group. It was just such a jolt to his primal reactive instincts to be standing across from the animal he was sure was the one particularly responsible for putting the grisly series of events in motion. The room had suddenly gone icy-cold for Anderson as he peered into the mocking abyss of Derek’s petulant stare.
And there was something else. It was almost as if Derek could see through the glass, too. Could see Anderson. His return gaze was unflinching, unrelenting, and the subsequent smirk was subtle but clear to Anderson.
Anderson went berserk. He howled, sprang forward and tried feverishly to open the door to the inner corridor. The door held fast. Anderson stepped in front of the observation window and slammed his fists furiously against the glass.
The mirror was shaking and muffled shouts could be heard on Derek’s side of the glass. Derek knew what was happening but was unperturbed. Actually smug. The beefy patrolmen next to him were not as confident that the window would hold.
Crotty was already trying to grab hold of Anderson when an extra patrolman materialized and helped Crotty pull Anderson away from the glass.
It was at least an hour later when Crotty was able to escort Anderson from the facility. Anderson was left to cool off in one of the all-purpose rooms used for police training and emergency services. Right now Crotty was walking him through an empty hallway that ran through the idle offices of the police station administrative area.
“They should be arraigned in the next 24-hours. I’m fairly certain they’ll be remanded into custody, that is ‘held without bail’ until trial, considering the seriousness of the charges.” Crotty was saying this as his thick-soled footfalls clacked on the glistening waxed floors of the hallway.
Anderson’s accompanying steps were more catlike, silent and mournful.
Crotty continued, “I fully expect the prosecutors and the grand jury to follow up with formal murder charges. We have what appears to be a wealth of physical evidence and we’ve got an eyewitness of the suspects leaving the scene.”
Crotty did not want to say Anderson’s elderly neighbor had been in just before Anderson to identify Derek and the others but could not say for certain who the men were, or whether they were the ones he saw running from the Anderson house or even if they were the ones he saw earlier that morning landscaping on the Anderson property.
“I’m going to do everything I can to put these guys away.” Crotty stated, then added a quick qualifier. “If they did it.” Crotty continued walking and talking. “I don’t know how long we’ll be tied up out at your home, but my department will work tirelessly on doing a thorough investigation.”
Crotty’s two-way radio crackled to life on his hip. “Wayne, got a sec?” A female dispatcher’s unemotional voice crackled over the radio’s speaker mic as Crotty stopped before a door with a vision panel and a key pad where he was about to enter a 4-digit code to gain entry to the Sally Port Area.
Crotty brought the two-way up to his mouth and answered. “This is Wayne. Go ahead.”
“They’re all done with the victims at the Anderson house. Do you want me to call for body removal?”
Her voice had a smoker’s rasp, Anderson thought. She must be the other woman he saw in the Dispatch Room. She probably had to smoke outside. He hadn’t smoked since his days in the military. Anderson didn’t know why his mind was flitting to mundane thoughts, but he felt oddly like a computer left on, uselessly having to cool, cycle updates, be ready to give information, but essentially having to wait for input to perform anything worthwhile. Alive but not real. Maybe it was just better to think about something like that right now.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Crotty answered uncomfortably, shooting an apologetic glance at Anderson. Crotty didn’t want to appear insensitive but he couldn’t know Anderson was in a void at this moment. Nothing like this had ever happened to Crotty, personally.
For Anderson, indignities were forgotten, or completely unnoticed like a receding road in the rear view at the moment. It was going to hit Anderson. Later. For now it was simply overkill.
“Also, the M.E. says they got a slot open at three o’clock today. Are you going to want to be at this one? I can have them push it to four?” The female dispatcher continued.
Anderson figured she must have meant this afternoon because he saw a clock on a wall, and it was already three in the morning.
Actually, the appointment was for this afternoon. The dispatcher wanted to check if Crotty was going to squeeze in some sleep before he sat in on an autopsy. It was not normal that Crotty was here at this hour.
“I’ll talk to you in a minute.” Crotty grunted into the two-way after he cleared his throat. Crotty had been operating on fumes. His tank was empty but he knew he had to put something extra into this case. Things like this didn’t happen that often in his jurisdiction. There were the numerous unexpected deaths that required an ex
amination but which were later found to be due to a medical condition or simply accidental. They had their share of deaths by DUI or “king-hitting” bar fights where a cold-cock sucker punch resulted in a manslaughter or elevated second-degree murder charge. There was even a recent murder/suicide but that was owed to the state of the economy. This was different. Dirty. It was going to get some scrutiny.
Like the case that came up right before Crotty became a detective which made his predecessor put in for an early pension. Media had some fun with it. There was a creepy husband with a dual-citizenship who had murdered his wife. They had a hot tub. She was found floating in it. Drunk. She had some family money. There was a nice-sized life insurance policy on her but it was taken out years earlier. The husband was smart enough not to have the standard M.O.: such as he had a new girlfriend and wants out of the marriage but also wants to make some money off the marriage in a hurry. There was none of that. It was planned. Everybody knew the husband had done it. He moved the money overseas along with himself. Right now Crotty couldn’t even recall the offender’s name.
But Anderson was Joe Citizen. Or appeared to be. The media was going to have to put some focus on this, too. At least until some politico got caught using the taxpayer’s credit card for lap dances or a casino trip. Brutality against the innocent was usually pushed off the front pages nowadays in short order in favor of more easy to stomach fare, but Crotty couldn’t count on that. He had to try and get it right. Go carefully by the book. Anyway, Anderson seemed like a decent enough guy.
Crotty tapped in the code, the door lock disengaged and Crotty opened the door, letting Anderson step through first.
“We’ll let you know of any personal items that were taken as evidence.” Crotty told Anderson as he followed him into the Sally Port, the door swinging shut on its own behind them. “As far as the autopsy goes, they’re very good about getting to them quickly. The medical examiner’s office will do everything possible to expedite the release of your loved ones within 48 hours so it shouldn’t affect any viewing or funeral arrangements. Do you have a funeral home of choice?”
“No.”
“As soon as the examination is complete, the Medical Examiner will be able to release the remains after they get a signed authorization from the legal next-of-kin. As the surviving spouse and parent you’re considered a first degree relative. You hold precedence. Funeral directors are used to working with the Medical Examiner’s office. You’ll just need to contact us, to let us know what funeral home to release the remains to.”
“I’ll get that information to you.” Anderson answered automatically.
“Your wife and daughter’s personal belongings that may have been taken, anything that can be released will be available at our office between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. during normal business hours. That’s Monday through Friday, excluding holidays. If authorized, we can release those belongings to the funeral home or mortuary of your choice.”
“Thank you.” Anderson answered, trying to make sure he didn’t mutter his words.
Crotty was moving Anderson steadily towards the reinforced enclosure where Anderson could collect his keys from the patrolman who logged them in.
“You know you can’t go home right now. Your house and property has been placed under guard and are sealed at this point pending further analysis that may be required. We’ll try to speed up that process as well. I can’t recommend a company to clean your home, but after we’re finished, we can provide you with a list of companies that do that sort of work.” Crotty stopped and took out his billfold. He removed a business card and handed it to Anderson. “You let me know if I can help you in any way. My numbers are on there. And if you can think of anything that might be important for me to know don’t hesitate to call me.“
Anderson nodded vaguely, tucked the card in his front pants pocket.
“Are there any other family members or friends who might be able to help you coordinate arrangements, get through this?” Crotty asked a bit gently, somewhat knowing the answer. Crotty had already looked over a preliminary rundown on Anderson which showed that Karen and Tristan were apparently all the family he had. Crotty was hoping Anderson had some other support but fearing that wasn’t the case this was also the reason Crotty was dispensing with so many details for dealing with the aftermath of crime that were usually handled by other people.
Anderson simply shook his head, locked his gaze on Crotty’s stare. Anderson knew Karen had an older sister but they were not close. Karen last saw her sister two years ago, and before that three years earlier when Karen flew to Seattle for their mother’s funeral. Their father was a long-time Port of Seattle employee who worked construction and maintenance. He died a couple years before the mother. Karen was ten years younger than her sister. The mother had Karen when she was forty-two. The parents just got to that age where the parts start kicking out after a hard run and one malady led to another. Cancer of some sort was the cause of death in both cases but it was really simply that they were advanced in years.
Crotty pulled another card out of his wallet, gave it to Anderson. “There’s some other numbers for victim’s and crisis support groups. You’re welcome to use the police chaplain whose number is also provided on there.”
“Thank you.” It was all Anderson could manage. He tucked that card in his pocket with the other one.
“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” Crotty asked him.
But Anderson was silent as the patrolman in the enclosure slid Anderson’s keys into the metal dish under the window.
“Maybe you want to get a prescription, something to help you sleep?” Crotty said this to Anderson more as a strong recommendation rather than a suggestion.
Anderson just nodded, gathered his car keys. There was a brief moment where he might have shaken Crotty’s hand but it didn’t seem appropriate. Anderson simply headed for the Sally Port security doors that would take him back to where his car was parked.
Crotty ran a tired hand through his hair, threw a relieved look to the patrolman. Crotty was happy to be done with this one. It’s never easy and this case was particularly tough.
CHAPTER 7
“State of Illinois - For Official Use Only.” The decal emblem on the side of a passenger van stirred a memory for Anderson who had to wait for the van to pass into the police station Sally Port before he could get to his Mercedes. Rain began to pour down in sheets.
A flash of lightning, right overhead, blanketed him as he got into his car. Anderson pulled the car door shut, but didn’t put the key in the ignition. He stared straight ahead, trancelike, the heat of his breath fogging the windshield as an explosive clap of thunder rattled him into reverie:
“We’ll remember you in our prayers,” he recollected her saying. Anderson was only seven-years-old when he was led by the faceless man to the waiting vehicle with the “State of Illinois” seal on its car door. She had no face either, the woman who called after him from the doorway of the house. It wasn’t that they literally had no features, it was simply Anderson, as a child, never saw them. Ever. It was more a survival instinct and easier if he made it a point to not become too attached. They weren’t bad people. None of them were to this point. It was usually an issue of survival for them, too. The children inside the house he was leaving were crying, that much was vivid. They cried because they thought or knew they were next. The suitcase was bigger than he was that the young Anderson had to drag into the back seat with him. The faceless man moved around and got behind the wheel of the car with the seal and drove off with the young Anderson who never looked back.
The rain was really coming down now, like tears from weeping. Maybe God was crying. Karen would have said something like that. Maybe “He” didn’t exist as Anderson always suspected, or rather insisted. Karen was the spiritual one. Tristan, too. With them gone the last piece of his soul was lost.
Anderson looked over at the ribboned iPhone box on the passenger seat next to him. He buried his head against the steerin
g wheel. He couldn’t drive away just yet. The wipers wouldn’t be able to keep up with the deluge. Anyway, he had no place to go.
CHAPTER 8
Anderson was standing between the two gurneys that held the bodies of Karen and Tristan in the receiving room of the funeral home. The funeral director had given him some time alone with them, and was respectfully out of sight.
Anderson had to pay an extra charge to view the bodies outside of normal business hours but he didn’t want to be interrupted. He wanted it to be quiet, too. He hoped being with the bodies they would somehow speak to him, one last time, that he could hear something in the ethereal, otherworldly dimension outside of the normal lines of life. Maybe some of Karen and Tristan’s nudging did seep into his DNA. They always looked for God’s presence and protection. They believed in it. He sure didn’t. Especially now. They even believed he was a gift from God to them. He felt like he personally poisoned them, their chance at happiness, by the mere fact that he ever crossed their paths. Karen would have found someone else if she never met him. He was sure of that. Tristan would have been born to Karen through that relationship or Tristan’s soul would have been born to another family, somewhere.
He couldn’t set his eyes squarely on them at first. The guilt was too overwhelming, like black bile that was continually pushing up through his esophagus. He did finally look at them, first at Tristan with her perfect skin and angelic features ravaged by bloating and blotchy lividity, and then Karen with her decimated features and blood-soaked hair. It felt like his heart would burst even though he was barely breathing.
Violence Page 5
