Progeny

by E. H. Reinhard

  “That’s where she went down after she attacked my guys. We’re waiting to call the coroner until after your forensics guys go over the scene,” the captain said.

  “Your officers? Either injured?” I asked.

  “No. Not for a lack of her trying though.”

  “How did it go down?”

  “I’ll let you get it from the horse’s mouth. Glodek! Campbell!” he shouted. The captain waved two uniformed officers over.

  They approached. I lay the tarp back over the woman and stood.

  “This is Lieutenant Kane from TPD homicide,” the captain said. “He’s been leading up their case on this woman. Tell him how it went down.”

  Glodek, the bigger and older of the two, spoke up. “We were dispatched with orders to try and make contact with the homeowners. We get here and knock and ring the doorbell a few times—there’s no answer.”

  The other officer, Campbell, pulled on the back of his ear. “But we can hear someone inside,” he said.

  Glodek continued. “So we go through knocking and ringing the bell a few more times before we try to get a peek inside the home. I looked through the living room window there”—he pointed—“and I see blood everywhere. I call it in, and we were about to attempt entry when a blood-covered woman runs from the front door.”

  “Holding a scalpel, covered in someone’s blood,” Campbell said.

  “We instructed her to drop the weapon and get on the ground. She didn’t comply,” Glodek said.

  “She attempted to attack you?” Hank asked.

  “Not at first. At first, she stood there talking. Crazy talk. It seemed as if she was having a conversation with someone that wasn’t there,” Campbell said.

  “What was she saying?” I asked.

  “Honestly, I can’t recall,” Glodek said. “I kept repeating my command for her to drop the weapon and get on the ground or she would get the Taser.”

  “It was something about someone named Jack,” Campbell said. “Like she was talking to him and then answering.”

  “And then?” I asked.

  “I fired the Taser on her,” Glodek said. “The shot went into her chest, but the barbs must have been caught by the butcher’s apron she was wearing. Our Tasers fire two shots. I was about to fire the second when she lets out this bloodcurdling scream and runs at me with the scalpel. I fired, hit her clean, but she still got to me. The gun did nothing. I mean, I’ve heard stories of it not affecting people high on PCP and whatnot, but I’d never seen it not have an effect on someone in person. She was on me in an instant, stabbing away. I bet she stabbed me in the chest with the scalpel ten times. The vest caught all of her attempts, thankfully. Then she went for my gun. I pushed her away from my body, and Campbell fired. She dropped.”

  “We disarmed her at that time, cuffed her, and called the ‘shots fired’ in,” Campbell said. “Glodek stayed with the body while I cleared the house. It was empty, aside from the bodies I found within. She was deceased before the paramedics got to her.”

  “Okay, guys. Thanks,” Captain Evans said.

  The two patrol officers went back to the curb to speak with another man in a suit.

  “Let’s take a look inside,” I said.

  “It’s, um… Well, I don’t know any other way to say it other than there’s two bodies hanging and skinned in the garage,” the captain said.

  “We’re aware,” I said, motioning for him to lead us inside. Hank and I followed him into the home. Five feet inside was a blood pool next to a spilled bag of groceries. Ten feet farther, another blood pool.

  Chapter 21

  As Angel drove toward her condo, she glanced over at the phone sitting on the passenger seat. Marcy had called five times since Angel had gotten off the phone with the cop. The phone lit up and rang again.

  “Shit!” Angel yelled. She banged her fist against the steering wheel. Angel took a few deep breaths to calm herself, reached over, and picked up the phone. She clicked Talk. “Hey, Marcy.”

  “I tried calling you five times,” Marcy said.

  “Yeah, sorry. I’m driving.”

  “Did the police call you?”

  Angel rubbed her face. “Police? No. What for?”

  “Carmen Simms. I was just at the police station, answering questions about her. They think she’s killed people, Angel.”

  “What?” Angel tried stringing the word out, as if she couldn’t believe it. “Killed people?” she asked.

  “Yes. Killed people. Have you seen her?”

  “No, Marcy. I haven’t seen Carmen in years. You know that.”

  “Honey, are you sure?” Marcy let out a hard breath into the phone. “I told you that woman was dangerous.”

  “Marcy, I haven’t had any contact with her.”

  “Where are you? Are you going home? Your father and I are coming over. We need to talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. And, no, I’m not going home.”

  “Yes, we do need to talk about it. Where are you going?”

  “Ugh. Work.”

  “Well, we’ll stop in there, then.”

  “Um, geez, Marcy. Whatever, I guess just meet me at my condo. I have to stop there before my shift anyway.”

  “We’re on our way.”

  “Just give me, like, a half hour. I have to make a stop. Bye.” Angel hung up. “Shit!” She banged the steering wheel again and stepped on the gas.

  She sped the ten miles to her three-story condo, which she hadn’t paid a lease payment on, or stayed overnight at, in months. Angel pulled the car into her garage, lowered the garage door, and rushed inside. She had minutes before Marcy and Bruce arrived. Angel knew they wouldn’t wait. As every other time her adoptive parents came over, anything having to do with Carmen needed to be hidden. Angel had a mental inventory of the items that needed to disappear—she had photos on the refrigerator as well as in the living room and master bedroom. The corny #1 Daughter coffee cup needed to be hid. Angel grabbed a box from a shelf on the garage, opened the door into the foyer, and ran up the stairs to the main level. She started in the kitchen. The photos of her and Carmen together on the refrigerator went into the box, as did the coffee mug, sitting in the sink. Angel looped around the breakfast bar and went to the living room for the framed photos hanging on the wall below the television—each one went into the box. She stopped and counted her items.

  “That’s everything,” she said.

  Angel ran up the next flight of stairs to the bedrooms. In the master, next to her bed, was the single family photograph that she owned—courtesy of Carmen. She snatched the framed picture and stared at it. Carmen had told her the photo was from New Year’s Day, 1981. It showed Angel’s father, Jack, leaning against a car with his arm around a young, pregnant, Carmen. The two were smiling. Angel also smiled as she looked at the picture.

  “I’ll see you two soon.”

  Angel set the photo carefully in the box and headed back downstairs.

  She passed the landing for the main level and continued down to the front foyer and the door leading into the garage. Angel used her chin to steady the box while she reached out to open the door. As she twisted the knob, she heard a knock on the condo’s front door to her left. The door pushed open, and a woman in a light-blue fleece and a man wearing jeans and a gray polo shirt filled the doorway. Marcy and Bruce. They entered.

  Bruce looked at Angel opening the garage door. He adjusted his glasses on his nose. “Need a hand?” he asked.

  “No, I’m fine. You guys can go up. I’m just going to toss this box of junk in the garage. What’s so important that it couldn’t wait?”

  “What do you mean ‘what is so important?’” Marcy snapped her head back. “Carmen is wanted for murder.”

  Angel rolled her eyes. “Just go upstairs. I’ll be up in a sec.”

  “Come on,” Bruce said. He tugged at Marcy’s sleeve.

  Angel heard the couple walk up the steps. She placed the box in her car and headed up
stairs a few seconds behind them. Bruce and Marcy took a seat on Angel’s brown leather couch. Both clasped their hands together in their laps. Angel walked over and sat down on the matching leather chair a few feet away.

  “I have to change and leave for work soon.” Angel held her palms up. “Why are you guys here?”

  Marcy scoffed. “Are you serious? Carmen is wanted for murder. Your father and I want to know what you know about it.”

  “I don’t know anything about it. I told you I haven’t seen or talked to her.” Angel grabbed a fingernail file from a small end table beside her.

  Bruce stood and peered over at Angel. “That’s a lie, and you know it. Come on. We raised you better than that.”

  Angel was silent. She held the file in her right hand to file the nails on her left. She froze when she looked down. One of her black-painted fingernails had snapped off. Her mind went into a panic as to where that could have happened. She couldn’t come up with anything.

  “We know you were with her last month. Mrs. Gardner saw you two together?” Marcy said.

  Angel said nothing. She continued staring at the missing nail.

  “No response?” Bruce asked.

  Angel looked up. “Sorry, what?” she asked.

  “Your mother said that Chloe Gardner saw you with Carmen last month,” Bruce said.

  Angel remembered seeing the old woman at a gas station. While she had tried to avoid her, they did make eye contact for a split second. Angel needed to deflect the question. She let out a puff of air in anger. “Your neighbor? With the four-inch-thick glasses? She saw me with Carmen? She should go get her eyes checked again. And what is she? Eighty?”

  “This isn’t a joke. Your mother had to go to the police station and answer questions about Carmen. They want her for murder. Where is she?”

  “First, Marcy isn’t my mother. Second, I don’t care that she had to go to the police station. Third, I said I don’t know where Carmen is.”

  Bruce’s face went red with anger, and he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Then he ran his hand through his short white hair and put his glasses back on. “Where was Carmen last month, then?” He crossed his arms and rested them on his belly, waiting for Angel’s response.

  “Look, I’m not going to get interrogated by you two.” Angel stood. “Your neighbor sure as hell didn’t see Carmen and me together. I need to get to work. You guys should go.”

  Bruce shook his head. “We’re not going anywhere until you stop lying and tell us.”

  “Well, then you can sit here by yourselves and wait because I’m leaving.” She turned her back on Marcy and Bruce.

  Bruce took fast steps after her and grabbed her by the arm.

  Angel ripped it from his grasp and spun around. “Don’t touch me,” she said through clenched teeth.

  Marcy began to cry. “Honey, we’re worried. Don’t be like this.” Marcy stood from the couch and walked toward Angel. “Don’t protect that woman. She’s not your mother.”

  “You’re sure as hell not,” Angel said.

  “Don’t be like this, honey.” Marcy reached out to hug her.

  Angel took a step back. “You can stop right there, Marcy. I don’t need a hug and don’t want to look at your pathetic, crying face. You two aren’t my parents, and I don’t owe you an explanation for anything. Now, get out!”

  Bruce shook his head, his eyes welling up behind his glasses. “Come on, Marcy. Let’s go. Apparently, our daughter doesn’t care that we’re worried about her.”

  “Oh, okay. Now you want to try guilt? Just leave.” Angel stepped to the side and pointed down the stairs.

  Marcy paused as she walked past Angel. “Maybe you’ll have some answers for the police. I gave them your information.”

  Angel shrugged. “Whatever. I already talked to the cop. I told him the same thing I told you. I don’t know where she is. What is so hard to understand about that?”

  Neither Marcy nor Bruce answered. They walked down the steps and out the front door. Angel followed. She slammed and locked the door at their back. Angel leaned her back against the door.

  They’ll come back.

  Angel looked up the stairs. The only things she cared about were the photos already in the car. She walked into the garage and hit the button to lift the overhead door.

  Chapter 22

  Hank and I stood in the doorway leading into the garage. We stared in at the couple hanging from the ceiling. I looked back over my shoulder at Captain Evans. “Has anyone been in here?” I asked.

  “Glodek and Campbell. I’m not sure either of them got much further inside than you two are now. I know I haven’t been in there. A glance of whatever the hell that is, is more than enough for me.”

  Rick and Pax walked in, approaching us from behind the captain. Evans turned to look at them.

  “Rick, Pax, this is Captain Evans. Captain, Rick Daniels and Pax McLain from our forensics lab.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’ll leave you guys to it. Can you guys just make sure we get a copy of everything found here?”

  Rick nodded. “I’ll make sure.”

  The captain walked from the house. Rick pointed into the garage. “Did you guys go in?” he asked.

  “No. Leaving the scene for you,” I said.

  Hank and I removed ourselves from the doorway so Rick and Pax could walk through.

  Pax looked at the hanging bodies and grimaced. “Do you have this in here, Rick? I can probably get started with the rest of the house.”

  “That’s fine,” Rick said.

  Pax turned and headed toward the blood in the entryway. Hank and I took a step into the garage.

  “Pax looked a little green around the gills there, Rick,” I said.

  “I know.” Rick shook his head. “I’ve seen him like that once or twice before. You guys know how it is. After a while, you get used to seeing the evil that some people are capable of. Pax is young. His skin will thicken up.” Rick pulled his camera from his kit and started taking photos of everything. Hank and I watched from the corner as Rick snapped photos of the bodies.

  After the photos, he bagged the couple’s clothing. We watched him bag and tag one complete outfit for a man and one complete outfit for a woman.

  I looked around the garage. I had a car in the garage bay at the back, a couple hanging upside down from the ceiling, and two connecting blood pools. Something was missing.

  “Where’s the skin?” I asked.

  Hank squinted. “Yeah, where the hell is the skin?”

  “It’s not in here anywhere that I can tell,” Rick said.

  I walked from the garage to Pax in the living room. Hank followed. Pax knelt beside a pool of blood.

  “Is the skin from the victims out here?” I asked.

  Pax looked up, surprised by the question. “Not that I’ve seen. It might be here somewhere, though.”

  Hank and I did a quick lap through the home, searching. I walked outside to find Captain Evans. He was standing just a few feet from the front door, observing the local coroners removing the body from the front yard. Both men wore blue jumpsuits with Coroner printed in yellow across the upper back.

  “Captain,” I said.

  He turned to Hank and me.

  “Where’s their skin?” I asked.

  “We didn’t do anything with it.”

  “And no one else was in the house?”

  “Glodek and Campbell said the place was empty. It’s not in the garage?”

  I shook my head. My attention went to the vehicles parked along the street and the black SUV in the driveway. I looked around the yard and neighboring properties. “Can we get someone to run the tags on all the cars we have around here? And maybe get a couple guys to start searching the neighborhood?”

  “What are you thinking?” Evans asked.

  “Well, either she drove here in one of these vehicles and the skin is in there, or maybe it’s stashed around here somewhere.”

  “Or she has an accomplic
e,” Hank said.

  The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

  “Has anyone been door knocking to see if any of the neighbors may have seen anything earlier?” I asked.

  “We’ve spoken with everyone in the vicinity here.” Captain Evans made a couple of circles with his finger in the air. “Nobody has had anything of importance to tell us. I’ll get a couple of guys on the tags and searching, though.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I saw an older woman pawing at the female officer running crowd control near the patrol cars sideways in the street. I could hear the civilian wailing.

  “What’s this?” Hank asked and pointed.

  “Yeah, let’s find out.”

  We started toward the woman and officer.

  As we neared, I heard the frantic woman yell the name Maggie, our assumed female homeowner’s name. “Let her through,” I called.

  The female officer did.

  The woman ran toward Hank and me and then tried to plow through us. Hank did his best to hold the woman.

  “That’s my sister’s house! What happened? Where is she?” she screamed.

  “Ma’am, please, try to calm down,” I said.

  She pulled from Hank’s grasp and tried to run for the house.

  I caught her in four strides and placed my arms around her in the gentlest bear hug I could manage while still keeping her under control. “You can’t go in there.”

  “Is she dead?”

  I said nothing.

  The woman cried uncontrollably and went limp in my arms. Hank walked over. I jerked my chin at him to head back into the house. He walked toward the front door.

  I held the woman for a minute before helping her take a seat in the grass. I knelt beside her. “Ma’am, what’s your name?”

  She sniffed. “Katherine Forte.”

  “And this is your sister’s home?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Maggie and her husband.” She was quiet for a second. “Oh God, Chuck. Where’s Chuck?”

  I couldn’t find the words to tell her where he currently was.