Shadows May Fall

by Corcoran, Mell

  Lou held her breath while she watched Dillon imprint each finger then start with his thumb on the plate. As soon as it glowed red, then green, she took a quick breath then held it again as Dillon went through the sequence. She never opened her mouth for fear of making him flinch. In retrospect, she thought she probably shouldn’t have slugged him earlier and would need to apologize once they got through this. With each finger that glowed green,

  Lou’s heart pounded until he placed his pinky and it blinked green several times. They heard several clicks and what sounded like a hiss of air that made them look at each other nervously.

  “You’re in!” Connor exclaimed. “That was the sound of the air lock opening! You’re good to go!”

  “Holy crap.” Lou finally spoke. “That was nerve-wracking to watch! I have no clue how you didn’t shake doing that.”

  “Me either!” Dillon laughed. “Thank you, Connor!”

  “Yes!” Lou concurred. “Thank you, Connor.”

  “My pleasure.” Connor sounded relieved.

  “Now tell us what’s in there!” Max’s voice interrupted.

  “How long have you been on the line?” Lou squeaked.

  “Since we called?” Max chuckled.

  “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here.” Dillon said as he removed the print gloves and put on his normal crime scene ones.

  They started with the first drawer, opening it slowly to make sure nothing jumped out at them. Lou couldn’t imagine what warranted such security if Vanessa Sturn had her millions in jewels on display behind an easily accessible glass cupboard. What the hell could be so much more important that it was sealed in fireproof drawers with biometric locks? The inside of the first of six drawers was velvet lined, and it contained a laptop and a leather bound journal. They relayed the contents to Max and Connor as Lou opened the journal and Dillon took the laptop.

  “Do not boot up that computer!” Connor yelled at them. “It’s probably air gapped and boobie trapped. Bring it to me and I’ll deal with it.”

  “Alright.” Dillon acknowledged and set the laptop aside and out of the way.

  “Our girl is old school.” Lou commented as she flipped through the pages of the journal. “Names, numbers, proclivities. She kept a handwritten journal, and there are some very recognizable names in here. I so did not need to know that these men....” Lou paused and frowned. “...and women! Whatever!” Lou closed the journal and handed it to Dillon with two fingers like it was contagious. “Bag this and it doesn’t leave our sight. That falls into the wrong hands, and it’s blackmail city.”

  Dillon put the journal in an evidence bag, marked, signed, sealed and set it to the side next to the laptop. “Okay, let’s see what’s behind drawer number two!”

  “Are those portable hard drives?” Lou asked as they looked inside the drawer. “They are, and those look like client numbers, the same as in the journal.”

  “Probably video.” Connor offered.

  “We didn’t see any cameras around here did we? Aside from the exterior ones at the gate?” Dillon asked, and Lou shook her head.

  “I highly doubt anyone volunteered to have their kink sessions recorded.” Connor added.

  “Right so she didn’t set up a camera and let it rip during sessions.” Lou grimaced. “There has to be a hidden camera or cameras.”

  “Detectives...” Max interrupted. “You need to make sure you know what is on those drives before you put them in as evidence. I don’t mean to tell you your business but that is a bell you cannot unring.”

  “Aw.” Lou snorted. “Like the fifty bells I already rang today without thinking? You don’t think my running around with a sledgehammer in the bell shop is cute?”

  “Well...” He hesitated to reply.

  “Do not worry!” Lou stopped him before he could say it. “I learned my lesson the very hard way today. We’ll box them up and bring them to you guys to filter first.” Lou walked out to the main hall and asked the deputy if he could get one of the techs to bring up a few boxes for her. Dillon waited until she returned before opening the next drawer that contained more hard drives, all in numerical order according to client code. They all appeared identical otherwise and looked to hold about sixty to eighty gigabytes of data which according to Connor meant there could be ten hours of footage on each drive. They waited until one of the techs dropped off the boxes before moving on to the last two drawers.

  “Second from bottom opening now.” Lou announced. “We got a couple stacks of cash. Ten thousand U.S. and another in Euros. We’ve got passports, a couple envelopes pre-addressed, looks like they’re all addressed to her attorneys.” Lou flipped through some of the passports. “Different names but all have Vanessa Sturn’s photo.”

  “Lou...” Dillon stopped her and flipped one of the passports open. “Tawny Marks.”

  She flipped through the other passports, quickly scanning the names then counting them. “Lana Brown. There are fifteen passports here, all with different names and addresses.”

  “What do you want to bet those names were stolen from our dead?” Dillon asked.

  “That’s a sucker bet.” Lou put all the passports in a bag but didn’t mark, sign or seal it. “We need to get those names to Caroline as soon as we’re done here.”

  “Here are credit cards, names correspond to the passports but they are all the same account number.” Dillon looked up at Lou. “How is that possible?”

  “I’m too tired to even think about that. Seal those up.” She threw an evidence bag at him. “Last drawer now.”

  Inside the sixth and final drawer was a beautiful old painted box and a stack of opened letters tied together with a red ribbon. They were all hand addressed to Vanessa Sturn in the same beautiful cursive writing but the return address stated no name and changed from envelope to envelope.

  “Wow. Someone spends some cash on their stationary.” Lou commented as she untied the ribbon.

  “What do you mean?” Max asked, clearly unable to see the envelopes himself.

  “These envelopes are high quality and the handwriting on them is almost like calligraphy.” Lou explained.

  “Lou, stop!” Max ordered.

  “What?” She froze as she asked.

  “Are they address to Miss Vanessa Sturn?” He asked her.

  “Yeah.” She said the word more as a question than an answer.

  “Are there swishes at the tops of the letter M that loop from left to right?” Max was very precise in his question. “And do not hold them close to your face to look! Keep them as far away as possible!”

  “What the hell, Max?” Lou grumbled as she examined the lettering. “Yes, you could describe it like that. Why?”

  “Put those in a bag and don’t let anyone handle them without gloves!” Max demanded. “Do not evidence them! Bring them to me directly!”

  “You care to clue us in here?” Dillon asked since Max clearly wasn’t answering Lou.

  “Those letters are from Albert, and that is very special stationary that could kill you if you handle it with your bare hands.” Max informed them.

  “How is that possible?” Lou scoffed. “It has to get handled to go through the postal system.”

  “Gold foil lined envelope, yes?” Max pointed out.

  “Yeah.” Dillon confirmed.

  “The envelopes are not the problem. It’s the sheets of paper. He soaks them in aconite.” Max explained. “It’s something we would do ages ago when correspondence was sent via horseback and secrecy was imperative. Albert grew too fond of the method and kept using it long after we abandoned the practice.”

  “Ages meaning middle ages? Medieval times?” Lou snorted. “I hope?”

  “Correct, Detective.” Max reassured her. “He often joked that most of his dalliances were with married ladies, so he warned them always to read his letters with gloved hands. Should their spouses find any of the com
munications, problem solved.”

  “Why am I not surprised by that?” Lou grumbled as she carefully put the envelopes in another bag then set them in the box with the hard drives.

  “How many of those women went to jail for poisoning their husbands, I wonder.” Dillon chortled.

  “Do you really want to investigate that?” Lou gave Dillon a sideways glance.

  Dillon shook his head then began to reach for the fancy box that remained in the last drawer. He thought twice about it when he saw gloves and painter’s mask stuffed in the back. “Uh.”

  “I see it. Do not open that.” Lou grabbed another bag and held it open for him.

  “What?” Max asked over the speaker.

  “We got a mask and gloves in the drawer with this fancy box.” Lou detailed their situation. “Given the poison letters, I think we need to bring this to you guys to open.”

  “A prudent decision.” Max agreed.

  “We’ll pack this up and lock it in the SUV.” Dillon suggested. “Good time to test out that lock box feature in the back!” Connor told him.

  “Oh yeah!” Dillon perked up at the idea.

  “What lock box feature?” Lou inquired.

  “We put a security feature in the back of his truck. Very slick. He’ll show you.” Connor sounded proud.

  “Okay then.” Lou rolled her eyes. “That looks like it for us here. We need to head to the hospital to see if we can get any statements from any of the survivors.”

  “Very well.” Max sighed. It was after midnight, and he knew Lou had been going full speed for nearly twenty-four hours straight. “I’m trying to set up a window for you to interrogate Miss Sturn unobserved. Let me know when you are leaving the hospital.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lou replied. “Thank you.”

  “Of course. Be safe, Detectives.” He requested before he disconnected the call.

  “You get the heavy stuff.” Lou grabbed everything that was tagged officially as evidence. “I’ll get this to the Crime Lab people.”

  “Meet you at the car?” Dillon asked.

  “Sounds good.” Lou took one last look around the closet to make sure they didn’t miss anything. There were no other secret compartments that she could find, but she was feeling less than secure with her judgment. She was tired. Really tired.

  It took her about fifteen minutes to get the evidence to Senior Criminalist Sara then make one last round to thank everyone before she got back to Dillon’s SUV. Her feet were killing her, she was hungry as hell, and she didn’t think there was enough caffeine in the world that would get her another wind. Dillon had waited to show her the fancy security feature on the back of the SUV. A false bottom on the back of the cab opened up and could be raised and lowered to the necessary depth. Once adjusted and closed, Dillon had Lou re-enter the code to lock it. He explained that it would take a plasma cutter to get through the doors or the sides of the truck to crack into it. Lou just looked at him oddly and mumbled something about him playing spy. He could tell she was exhausted. There was little he could do for her besides tell her to try and grab a cat nap while he drove them to the hospital. Ten minutes was the best he could do for her, but she gladly accepted.

  Vanessa Sturn paced back and fourth in the holding cell with her arms crossed and her eyes trained on the door to the outside. She had planned for this eventuality. She just hadn’t expected them to find her at the ranch. That was unfortunate. That changed the game considerably. If she was capable of feeling emotion, she might have been worried, panicked or at the very least sad but that was not the case. Vanessa had only truly felt two things in her entire life, humiliation and rage. The rest was just going through the motions as a means to an end that had worked out quite well if she were forced to admit it. Of course, she would be admitting nothing. She had planned for this. At this point, it was just about finding patience and something to amuse herself for the time being.

  As she waited for her attorney, she continued to pace, becoming more and more agitated as the clock ticked. Her traditional amusements were not there for her. The occasional deputy would pass by the holding cell, but they were not looking at her as the beautiful sex fantasy she had grown accustomed to. Generally, all she had to do was bat her lashes once or twice, and they would be drawn to her like a moth to the flame. Even with her still wearing the catsuit and thigh highs she was in when they arrested her, there was nothing. She would normally have men and women tripping over each other to give her whatever she wanted. The faces that passed by now to sneak a peek gave her nothing. No desire, no lust, no awe, no envy. Vanessa only saw disdain reflecting back at her in their eyes. The uniformed men and women passed by just to get a look at the monster in the cage, and she did not like that. The illusion was shattered. The grand illusion she had painstakingly built piece by piece her entire life. It was all ruined, and nothing would ever be the same. Money was useless to her now. Everything was futile and pointless now that the game was thwarted. But she had made preparations for this day and had come to terms with how she wanted things handled. She just needed her damn attorney to show up, and she would be in control again. There was no way in hell they would cage her. She did the hunting and the caging, period.

  Forty-seven minutes and thirty-one seconds passed before the main door opened and the female custody officer came to the bars.

  “Your lawyer is here. Put your hands through the opening please.” She instructed, and Vanessa reluctantly complied. “Step back, please.” The deputy requested once Vanessa’s hands were secured.

  The deputy opened the door to the holding cell then led Vanessa to a private room where her attorney was waiting. He was folding clothes and placing them in a brown paper Bloomingdales bag when the deputy opened the door and pushed Vanessa inside.

  “They said she could change into the clothes I brought her.” The lawyer told the deputy.

  The deputy shrugged. “Step out so she can change then.”

  “I’ll do that after we talk!” Vanessa barked, and her attorney nodded acquiescently.

  Once Vanessa sat, and her attorney did the same, the deputy stepped out of the room and closed the door. Vanessa could see the woman’s back through the small window as she stood guard outside.

  “Mistress I am so....” The blue haired gentleman cowered in the chair across from her as he spoke quietly and reached to touch Vanessa’s hands.

  “Shut up.” She stated sharply and abruptly ripped her cuffed hands away from his reach. The man complied immediately and pulled his hands back, hiding them under the table. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

  “Of course!” He assured her. “I went to your locker at the gym personally and retrieved the duffel bag as well as this bag, but the deputies unwrapped everything and went through it all to make sure I wasn’t sneaking anything in.”

  “Take the clothes out and show me.” She ordered. The man didn’t wait for a half a second before he pulled the items from the bag and set the pile on the table. “Lay them out so I can see them closely.”

  Her attorney got up from the table and laid out a pair of fine wool slacks in a basic black, a smart pair of Italian leather flats in a leopard print, a button up silk charmeuse blouse in the same gold found in the shoes and a matching set of black lace panties and bra. He carefully arranged the garments, smoothing out the silk in the blouse until he felt she would be pleased.

  “As you like?” He asked her.

  “Good. Now sit and listen.” She ordered, and he complied.

  For the next eight minutes and fourteen seconds, Vanessa Sturn gave her attorney orders that he was to follow to the letter. They had gone over them many times in the past just in case something of this nature happened, but it was always the worst case scenario plan. She had to assume they had gotten into her secured drawers and that the prepared letters she had at the ready would not be getting sent out. Being as meticulous as she was in her planning, Vanessa had du
plicates prepared and instructed him as to the where and the how he was to make sure they got sent out. She saw the deputy outside peek in from time to time as they spoke, but she knew that they were prohibited by law from listening in on attorney-client conversations. Privilege had it’s advantages, always. Vanessa forbade her attorney from writing anything down. Instead, she made him repeat every instruction twice after she gave it to him. With the last of her orders, she could see that he understood her endgame and the pathetic man started to cry.

  “You are no use to me if you’re going to act like a pathetic and weak child.” She admonished him. “Sit up straight. Act like a man.”

  Her attorney did as she commanded. “Yes, Mistress. Forgive me.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

  “You know better than to ask me for forgiveness.” She scoffed. “Your wife forgives you. I tolerate you. We are done. Get out so I can change.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” The man stood up but paused to stare at her as she rose from the chair. There it was. The lust and desperation in his eyes. The awe and longing that the deputies who had wandered by earlier had denied her. It made her smile briefly but then his gawking just was irritating. She wanted to reach over and slap his face so hard it would leave a mark. She smiled again when she thought about what a lovely bruise the handcuffs might leave on his face if she did. It was tempting, oh so tempting. “Get out.” She ordered again, and the man walked to the door and knocked for the deputy to let him out.

  “You gonna change?” The deputy asked her.

  “Yes, if you don’t mind?” Vanessa’s voice was soft again. Innocent and vulnerable.

  The deputy nodded and removed Vanessa’s handcuffs so she could dress herself. “I’ll block the window for you.” It was the only kindness she had shown Vanessa since she had come on shift. “Knock on the door when you’re ready.”

  “Thank you.” Vanessa’s voice was soft and breathy like it had been when she was flirting with the undercover courier.

  The deputy was unfazed and all business, walking out without even looking her in the eye once she removed the handcuffs. Vanessa rubbed her wrists and stared at the back of the woman through the sliver of a window and mused at how much she would love to bend the girl’s bones and stuff her in a box, after beating her to unconsciousness, of course. Since that was not going to happen, Vanessa began peeling off her boots, folded them carefully and placed them into the empty bag. She took a moment to rub her aching feet, actually thinking it was going to be a relief not to have to wear five inch heels ever again. But then she thought of her fabulous shoe collection, and that made her feel annoyed. Annoyance, rage and humiliation. The things Vanessa could feel that she hated. With renewed resolve, she removed the leather catsuit and took the time to stretch out, completely nude. The cool air of the concrete room was invigorating against her bare skin, and she took another moment to walk around the gray box, rolling her shoulders as she went to release some of her tension. When she heard a rap on the door, she looked to see the female deputy giving her a look of disapproval and knew she was pushing the envelope a little too far. Vanessa put on the bra and panties, then the trousers and shoes. She unbuttoned the blouse rather than slipping it over her head and carefully slid each arm in, pulling the buttery fabric over her shoulders. She began buttoning the shirt from the bottom up, taking her time as she allowed herself to drift into memory. Recalling all of the events that had brought her to this place and time. Vanessa had no regrets. She wasn’t capable of them. Though if she had to pick one, it would have been that she hadn’t killed her father with her bare hands. He served a purpose, though. His seed money in the form of her trust had enabled her to live the life she had dreamed of since she was a little girl. Her life as a child in that hollow hell of a house with her useless whore of a mother. It was all necessary to achieve the life she had loved so dearly as an adult.