Requite

by E. H. Reinhard

  “Timmons, wanted to see if you could help me with something?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Come on, come on, let’s have it.”

  “We had a witness earlier that described a vehicle leaving the scene from the attack and abduction last night. Time and location fits. Captain wants a BOLO out for it.”

  “Sure. What’s the vehicle?”

  “Here is the part you’re not going to like.”

  “Spill it. Just don’t tell me it’s a Honda Civic or Toyota Camry.”

  “White Chevy Express cargo van, 2003 or newer.”

  “Ugh. That’s just about as bad.”

  “Sorry.”

  “OK.” He nodded and plugged away at the keys of the computer in front of him. “It’s out on the wire.”

  “Let me know if you get anything.”

  “Of course.”

  I left Timmons and walked back to my office. I plopped into my chair, pulled out my notepad and looked over my notes. While all of my things to do had been checked off for the day, we were still no further ahead. Having Patrol look for the van was the only iron we had in the fire. I looked over at the clock, it was after seven thirty. If Jessica Casey was still alive, she’d been in the company of a murderer for almost sixteen hours and we had next to nothing.

  I found the home and cell phone numbers for Jake’s parents in my notepad and dialed each one. Each phone number sent me to their voicemails. I left the same message four times—to call myself or Captain Bostok regarding their son.

  Chapter 16

  I put the key in the front door of my condo, turned the knob and knelt. Butch streaked toward me in a full out run. His bell around his neck jingled as he bounded in my direction. Butch head faked me left and tried to go right. He’d got me with that move before, but not this time. I blocked his path with my shoulder against the door sill. He jumped. It was a new move. He must have been planning it in his little cat brain all day. Over my left shoulder he leapt out into the hall and ran.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  I used to wonder what he’d do if he got past me into the hall. Now I knew. He’d been getting past me regularly. I knew where he was headed—the cat lady down the hall Candice’s place. She owned four or five cats, possibly more. There was one in particular Butch was fond of—an orange tabby cat named Pockets. Every time he got out, he’d run down the hall and around the corner. He’d park himself in front of her door and meow as loud as he could until she allowed him in. The problem was Candice would let Butch in and I’d be forced to chat with her for ten minutes while we tried to separate the ball of cats. I jogged down the hall after him—he had already made the corner. At Candice’s front door he sat. He had got two loud meows out before I reached down and scooped him up. I rounded the corner and heard her front door open behind me. Butch dug into my arm with his rear claws. They poked through my sports coat and dug into my skin. He tried leaping from my grasp, digging his claws in deeper. I was just about back to my condo’s door.

  “Carl?”

  I turned. Candice stood at the end of the hall holding her tabby cat, Pockets. Two more cats circled her feet.

  “Hi, Candice. Butch made a little run for it.”

  She smiled. “He really has a thing for Miss Pockets here.”

  “Yeah.” I smiled. “He must.”

  “Well, let’s let them say hello at least.”

  I let out a breath and walked Butch down the hall toward the other cats for his impromptu play date. Twenty minutes and some small talk about home owner’s association fees later, I had Butch back inside my condo. He sat on the couch pleased with himself.

  I pointed at him. “You won this round but what are you going to do when I start crating you while I’m gone?”

  He looked away and began licking his paws.

  If there was a chance he understood me, he wasn’t bothered by my hollow threats. I didn’t even own a crate for him. I walked over and gave him a scratch behind the ears with both hands. “You’re a bad cat.”

  He purred.

  I gave him a few more pets, flicked a treat in his dish in the kitchen and went to change.

  The taxi picked me up to take me over to the small, hole in the wall bar that Callie worked at. The cab dumped me in front of Lefty’s a few minutes later, minus seven bucks. I walked in and grabbed my normal seat at the end of the bar. Callie saw me and flashed a smile while holding up a finger letting me know she’d be over in just a second. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail exposing the tattoos on her shoulders. She wore a black tank top that hugged her figure and a pair of short black pants. A silver bottle opener was tucked into her waistline.

  She poured me a beer and walked over.

  “Busy day, huh?” She asked. “I sent you a couple messages.” Callie leaned over the bar in front of me and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. She sat the beer in front of me.

  “Yeah, sorry. I’ve been running around non-stop.”

  “Your case is all over the news. Any leads?”

  I picked up my mug of beer by the handle and took a sip. “Few.”

  “You’ll get something, Babe.”

  “Hopefully soon.”

  She showed a face of concern but didn’t speak. It was typical of how our conversations about my job went. I’d give her the outline of what I was working on and she’d give me words of encouragement. I never gave her any details. She would pick up bits and pieces from what she saw on the television but would never ask about specifics. It was our agreement and for the best—she’d been targeted and pulled into my work on the Cross case. I made a point, from that moment forward, to do whatever I could to shield her from the violence and tragedy that my job often dealt with.

  “It’s not a big deal if you can’t make Saturday.”

  “We’ll see how this case shakes out. If I can be there, I promise I will.”

  She smiled. “Good. I’m going to go grab some drinks for the guys at the end of the bar. I’ll be right back.” She rubbed the top of my hand that sat up on the bar and went to tend to the other patrons.

  I’d completely forgotten about the wedding on Saturday until she brought it up. One of the other bartenders she worked with was getting married about an hour north of the city. Callie was standing up in the wedding party. She was excited that I agreed to go with. My guess was that by me going it would somehow solidify our relationship in her friend’s eyes. I was fine with that and was going to make every effort to be there.

  She walked back up. “Did you eat?”

  I finished the last two sips of beer in my glass. “Not since lunch.”

  “Want me to have the kitchen toss something together for you?”

  I looked at my watch. It was almost ten o’clock. “Nah. I’ll just eat something at home before I knock out. We have an early meeting tomorrow.”

  She squinted her eyes and looked at me like I was a lying child. “Oh, so you went shopping?”

  “No. There’s food there still.”

  “Carl. I was just at your house two days ago. Aside from what I made, you had peanut butter, a couple beers and some mustard in the fridge. And what’s really weird is that the leftover stuffed peppers somehow disappeared in the middle of the night.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure how that happened.”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “There’s some milk in the fridge. I’ll make myself a bowl of cereal or something.”

  She leaned back in a look of shock. “You haven’t poured that out? It was expired last week.”

  I shrugged. “It’s still good.”

  “Do not drink that milk!”

  I had a feeling I wasn’t going to win this conversation.

  “I’ll have the guys in back fix you up a sandwich. You can take it with you. Just wait.”

  I let out a deep breath. “Fine.”

  She disappeared into the back and I dialed up my cab. She returned with a Styrofoam take out
box a few minutes later.

  Callie slid the box across the bar at me. “Here. It’s a steak sandwich and fries.”

  I smiled. “Thanks. You take such good care of me.”

  “Someone has to.”

  I tossed a twenty up on the bar and stood from my barstool. Out the window, I saw my cab idling at the curb out front. “Are you coming over later?”

  “I work until close, Babe.” She pointed at the twenty I tossed on the bar. “And that’s too much money. Your beer was three dollars.”

  “I have to pay for my dinner and tip my bartender.”

  “It’s on me.” She slid the twenty back toward me.

  We went through this just about every time. Since we started dating she pretty much insisted on covering every beer and meal I had there.

  I glanced at the money on the bar. “I’m not picking that up.”

  “Ugh, you are so difficult.” She scooped it up and tossed it in the tip jar behind the bar.

  “So are you coming over later or what?”

  She put her elbows on the bar with her fists under her chin. She peered at me and spoke quiet. “I thought you said you had an early meeting?”

  “I do. Just sneak in and curl up next to me. No funny stuff.”

  She laughed. “Are you sure? Do you want me to?”

  I nodded. “I like it when you’re there at night.”

  “So do I.” She gave me a quick kiss. “I’ll be over.”

  “See you later.” I took my sandwich and headed for the door. “Watch out for Butch when you come in.”

  She laughed.

  I walked out to the waiting taxi and hopped in.

  Chapter 17

  Tom parked the van in front of his plumbing shop and unlocked the glass front door of the building. He walked in, re-locking the door behind him. A wall with a door separated the front showroom from the back warehouse. He walked into the back and closed the door. Jessica’s body still sat bound to the chair where he normally parked his van. Tom went to her.

  Her skin color was a shade of gray. Her hair was caked in half dried blood. The drain in the floor had taken in most of the blood that pooled.

  Tom walked to the sink at the back and attached the hose to the spigot on the wall. The faucet was turned on high. Tom brought the hose over to her, pointed the handle at her face and squeezed. The water began flushing the blood from her body. The water turned to a light brown and ran down the drain. When it went clear, he quit spraying and walked over.

  Tom cut away the duct tape that bound her wrists and ankles. He lifted her from the chair and sat her on the cement. Rigor mortis had set in. Her body remained as if she was still seated.

  The areas of Jessica’s back that he didn’t address while she was seated got sprayed with the hose. He’d have to wait until the middle of the night before he could dispose of her corpse. He had just the place.

  Chapter 18

  I was up by 6:00 a.m., dressed and in the kitchen for a quick coffee. I let Callie sleep. She could lock up when she got around to leaving. The coffee maker beeped signaling that it was done. I poured a cup and dug through the refrigerator for some creamer. There was none. The milk that sat inside would have to do. I pulled it out and caught the expiration date on the side. It expired ten days prior. I unscrewed the top and stuck my nose into the container. I took a deep breath. It didn’t smell that bad.

  “Stop!”

  I pulled my nose from the jug and looked to Callie standing in the living room. She had herself wrapped in a sheet from my bed.

  “Don’t even think about it. Pour it out.”

  “But I’m out of creamer.”

  “Pour it out!”

  I rolled my eyes and dumped it in the sink. The last few drops were a little chunky.

  “That’s disgusting,” Callie said. She moved from the living room to supervise the disposal of the milk over my shoulder.

  “Here.” She walked to her purse and dug her hand in. She pulled out a handful of packaged creamers.

  I stood surprised. “Why do you have creamer in your purse?”

  “I brought them for you from work because I knew you were out.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “Wow. Thanks.” I walked to her, took the creamers and gave her a kiss.

  I was pouring them in my cup of coffee when my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. The call came from the station. I hit talk.

  “Lieutenant Kane.”

  “Kane, how soon can you be here?” the captain asked.

  “I don’t know, ten minutes.”

  “Hurry up. We found Jessica Casey’s body.”

  “Ah, shit. Where?”

  “The park across the street from the station.” The captain hung up.

  “Damn. I have to go, Cal.”

  “Work?”

  “Yeah. Are you good here?”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll make sure everything is locked up before I leave.”

  “Thanks. Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You mind feeding Butch too?”

  “I’ll take care of everything. Just go.”

  I went to my bedroom, tossed on my shoulder holster and threw on a suit jacket. I spun open my safe and took my service weapon and my badge from the shelf. Callie planted a kiss on me on the way out the door.

  I hopped in my unmarked cruiser, flipped on the red and blues and sped into downtown. From two blocks away I saw our squad cars littering the street. Another block closer I caught the yellow tape encasing the park across from our police station. News vans gathered in the distance. Uniformed officers kept the media at a distance from the scene. I pulled up to the police barricade. A uniformed officer let me through. I parked my car at the curb and crossed the street. I saw the captain talking with members of the media. It wasn’t an interview that I wanted to be involved in.

  I spotted Jessica Casey’s body on a park bench forty feet away. She was sitting up facing me. To her sides were Ed and Rick. Pax stood a few feet back. I walked over.

  Pax nodded as I got to them. “Jogger walked into the station and reported it around six this morning. I’m guessing we all got called in right after.”

  I stared at her body. Her eyes were open and glossed over. She appeared as if she was looking back at me behind a thin layer of milk. The beating was worse than the others. She wore a pair of white shorts and a blue top under a small jacket. Dried blood covered her clothes. Deep letters were sliced into her forehead. Through the lacerations and dried blood I could see the white of her skull. The word read: Claire. I pulled out my notepad and wrote it on the page with the others.

  Justice for murdering Claire.

  I thought about the cases I’d worked over the last three years. The name Claire being a murder victim didn’t ring a bell, and I was pretty good with names. It would be something that would need to be checked into.

  Ed scrunched his nose and looked up at me from his kneeling position in front of the body. “Staged here. This wasn’t where it happened,” he said.

  “T.O.D.?”

  “Rigor is starting to let up. I’d say twenty-four hours, maybe a little less.” Ed’s face said he was deep in thought. He lowered himself to look at the underside of her legs. “I think she was killed in a sitting position and left there for some time. There’s blood pooling under her legs. If the rigor had set in while she was lying down, she wouldn’t have been able to be staged like this.”

  I wrote it in my notepad. “Same weapon you think?”

  He nodded. “Looks like it.”

  “Anything standing out at you, Rick?”

  “We’re thinking the shopping cart sitting over there may have been used to transport her. We roped it off but haven’t gotten to it yet.” He pointed over to the cart against a tree. Yellow police tape encircled it.

  “Store name on it?” I asked.

  “Quigley’s.”

  “There isn’t a Quigley’s around here anywher
e is there?”

  Rick shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

  The name of the grocery store got written down. “What else, Rick?”

  “We got some transfer on her clothes. There’s some kind of paste on the back of her jacket by her shoulder. There’s more of it here on her shorts.” He pointed to a dark smudge. “We’ll have to look into that further.” He twirled his finger in the air. “We have cameras on the outside of the station and a bunch of these other buildings have video as well. We should be able to get something there.”

  Pax’s head was on a swivel looking around the entire one square block park. “We’re going to have to give the entire park a good once over here, Lieutenant. It might take us some time. There are lots of places where something could have been tossed.”

  “Just work as quick and as thorough as possible,” I said.

  The captain walked up. “Morning, Kane. I just talked to Rawlings, he should be here any minute.”

  I nodded. “What did you give the press?”

  “Nothing more than they needed. I told them we’d schedule a press conference when we had more details.”

  “Did you call the judge?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to get her out of here first.” He focused his attention to Ed. “You guys almost set to take her back to the office?”

  “I drove here from home. Mike is going to bring the van. He sent me a message that he was on his way. Fifteen minutes or so and we’ll be out of here.”

  “Thanks.”

  On the street I saw Hank pulling his new little hybrid up behind the unmarked cruiser I’d been driving. He hopped out and made his way across the street to us.

  Rick was still eyeballing the trace smudges on her clothing. “Pax, you think you can handle the park here if I get Rob from the lab to come give you a hand. I want to start on the trace here as soon as I can.”

  Pax looked eager to get to take over the scene. “I can handle it. No problem.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Pax gave him a confirming head nod. “I got it.”

  “Alright. As soon as Ed can get her back to the medical examiner’s office, I can get her clothing and get started.”