Sons of a Brutality

by Daniel Jeudy

  Narek sponged his neckline again, cussing in Armenian while he tried to cultivate a strategy that didn’t involve hearing from the boss. He’d already exhausted every available option to get a message through and needed to be mindful of overstepping guidelines. Narek felt lost at sea, like trying to send a letter home by dropping a bottle into the ocean while sharks circled the raft.

  What made matters worse was they wouldn’t be in this squeeze if someone had monitored the joint beforehand. A little planning might have prevented them from strolling through the door with nothing but their dicks in their hands. Not that Narek would bother expressing his displeasure when they eventually found their way out of this jam.

  After all, it was the boss who’d contended there was no need for any surveillance.

  Hayk also had provided certain assurances, so Narek intended to hit him up for additional costs should his daughter get to leave here alive. His oversight contributed to them being trapped inside this dump, sweating their asses off like Christmas hams while Lado Fucking Jordan went stiff on the floor. Stinking the room up like a medieval sewer.

  Narek observed the girl as she attempted to comfort her fuckboy by stroking the side of his face while he wriggled about like a maggot. It was nauseating. His patience for cocksuckery had long expired, and it required iron-cast resolve not to put a bullet into their heads. However, Davit fixated on them keeping the girl safe, and their future might come crashing down if they defied his instructions.

  Bedros was wilted into the couch in such a way to convey he didn’t plan on moving, a wicked scowl pressed to his features as he grappled with the rising heat.

  “Hey?” Narek called.

  “Aya.”

  “Check your phone.”

  Bedros stared back at him like a stone. “It’s in the kitchen.”

  Narek dropped his head to prevent his rage from spilling over. “Why the fuck did you leave it out there?” he demanded, incredulous. “Get up and go grab the damn thing. Do you want to get home or what?”

  Bedros struggled to his feet as the hatred in his eyes became more pronounced than usual. Narek could empathize with his attitude. They should be unwinding in a state of calm serenity by now, not stranded in some shithole between Lynwood and South Gate.

  Everything seemed to be on course when Hayk gave them a key to Dewayne’s house and the time his daughter would be there. The old coot insisted on the girl being present when they kicked the stuffing out of her colored friend, thinking it might discourage her from making a similar error again.

  Narek was surprised to find Lado slumped on the couch when he walked through the door, but that was nothing compared to what he felt when the prick went for a gat on the armrest. The scene could have quickly concluded with him, and Bedros sprawled out on the living room floor like two lumps of Swiss fuckin’ cheese.

  Fortunately, he reacted fast by firing three rounds into the cocksucker before they stood watching while blood exploded from the artery in his neck. The violent spray of dazzling red soon became a lazy surge, a final song from his rapidly dying heart, then Lado’s hand dropped from his throat, and he slid from the couch like an oversized corn snake.

  Narek’s decision to fit his Glock with a sound suppressor proved to be astute. The familiar pop of gunfire would have enticed more punks to the scene, tooled up for war.

  He cast his eye around the room and shook his head in disgust. It was the type of dive where other people’s trash got to find itself a new home. The dilapidated old bungalow was typical of the low-income, urban lifestyle prevalent in many neglected neighborhoods around the city—undesirable suburbs where racial minorities were required to scratch an income from below the poverty line. Narek couldn’t comprehend how anybody got accustomed to existing this way. It might seem a better alternative to death, but it sure as fuck wasn’t living.

  The walls inside were probably white at one time but had transformed into a greasy beige color from grime buildup. Two couches positioned in the center of the room appeared filthy enough to prevent Narek from taking a seat. He considered the PlayStation console and the interactive TV standing on top of a chest of drawers, the fancy stereo in the corner, and the plastic chairs scattered throughout. Another confrontation felt more plausible by the second, and they only had nine bullets and Lado’s gat between them.

  Hayk’s girl was whispering into lover boy’s ear, but the asshole received no comfort from her words. Dewayne’s eyes were pleading white saucers, ready to explode from their sockets. Narek looked down at them with loathing while he covered his nose to mask the foul reek of shit drifting up from the corpse.

  Was it any wonder why Hayk wanted to drag her away from this pair of dirtbags?

  If she felt conflicted right now, what would she be like when he got around to finishing Dewayne? There was no way for this situation to conclude with the tar brother still breathing. The only reason he hadn’t popped him already was that he couldn’t risk sending the girl into a meltdown. Her wailing might attract unwanted attention, and he hadn’t been authorized to “silence” her.

  She failed to comprehend why they were waiting to hear from the boss, and there was only one reason for wanting a word with him: to determine whether she got to go home to daddy or put through the mincer with her two colored friends. When Davit apportioned her welfare to them, there hadn’t been a pair of bodies in the equation.

  Narek was typically prepared to put a wager on most things, and if he were offering odds on the conclusion, he’d say her chances were about fifty-fifty. It would all come down to the boss’s presence of mind and where his paranoia levels happened to be.

  Bedros trudged back into the room. His look communicated he was nearing the end of the line—as far as waiting around was concerned.

  “And …?” Narek asked.

  Bedros shook his head in silence.

  Narek wanted to smash his fist through something, but besides the chents on the floor, there was nothing for him to fucking hit. At a pinch, their problem might appear to be somewhat multifaceted, but the only thing keeping them here was Narek’s fear of making the wrong decision. The bitch resided in Glendale, which meant the waiting game was their safest option for now. It would be a significant risk to instigate a play without hearing from the boss, and a poor call might result in dismemberment on the slaughter room floor.

  When Narek felt a vibration coming from his back pocket, he pulled out his Blackberry in a burst of anticipation, quickly reading the message before flipping Bedros the phone and pointing toward the kitchen. Bedros appeared disgruntled, cussing in Armenian as he made a big exit.

  Hayk’s daughter began whimpering, and Narek considered the inviting curves of her body. She was easy on the eye with her long mane of dark-brown hair, smooth caramel skin, and perfectly rounded titties. It would be a shame if Davit ordered them to make her fish bait. Besides, they already had enough to get through with the task of hacking away the brothers.

  Narek turned his head at the sound of Bedros’s approach and saw his partner raise a thumb into the air. So, the girl was going to make it home after all. He still needed to inform her about what would happen if she ever decided to open her pretty cunt mouth. Then after they disposed of the waste, he could finally head home, get a blowjob from Anna, and find some relief from this incessant fucking heat.

  Thirteen

  A strong LAPD presence was assembled inside the parking lot on Sunset Boulevard as more detectives arrived to help the forensic team sweep the area. Addison observed a lab technician dust Jennifer Hill’s car while waiting for Jed to make his way back from the office upstairs. Word of the kidnapping had found its way to the press and Jamie Callahan’s murder was no longer their main priority. The girl’s abduction would be the opening news slot on every network before day’s end.

  Major investigations chew into police reserves, and the homicide division usually found itself being split down the middle. It wasn’t like they could pause the murder rate. Detectives were ju
st expected to pick up the extra slack until things cooled off. A lot of heat was coming down the line right now, and Addison didn’t imagine the pressure would be getting released any time soon.

  The lieutenant was speaking with a forensic team leader about how he expected the scene to be processed. Collins carried himself with a noble impatience that came from spending a lifetime on the job. Standing at over six feet tall with a muscular frame, he radiated a physical presence that made him hard to overlook. Collins maintained a high level of fitness, and his terrific looks made a strong impression on the ladies. Addison often heard the women at the office calling him Denzel Washington, but they also understood he was utterly devoted to his wife. Most cops lost a portion of their intensity by the time they hit fifty, yet Collins was sharp as ever and expected everyone to uphold his standards.

  He didn’t need to holler to get his point across. Nevertheless, when the shit hit the fan, it was best to be doing more than what might ordinarily be expected if one didn’t plan on seeing his other side. Collins had arrived at the scene in a pair of denim jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt, a noticeable change from the dark suits he favored.

  Addison began thinking about whether the first two victims were the only people the perpetrator had ever murdered. A season of carnage often occurred when a psychopath found a way past any lingering concerns they might have had about taking a life. The urge to reoffend became irresistible, like a contagion of bloodlust that defied all reason. It wasn’t much different in the way a junkie craved the sting of a needle.

  Killing distributed dopamine into the brain, and an offender’s perversity usually increased as they pursued an elevated state of exhilaration. If Jennifer Hill were eventually killed by the perpetrator’s hand, it would take his tally to three girls in a single week, a murder frenzy by any standard.

  The lab team combed the ground around the girl’s blue Honda, searching for fibers and trace evidence. They didn’t extract noteworthy data at the first two scenes, and Addison didn’t expect that to change here. His thoughts were interrupted when Jed came striding through the door behind him.

  “How’d it go?” Addison asked.

  “It’s all done. Holbrook’s bagging up everything now, and Rodgers just came back from the yoga joint to take down a statement from the attendant.”

  Addison recognized the presence of hostility in his partner’s eyes. “You get a look at the tape?”

  Jed nodded before spitting on the ground. “Yeah, and it sure as shit doesn’t look good for the girl.”

  “What’s your gut saying?”

  “That it’s our guy who snatched her. The piece of shit drives down here while she’s getting out of her car and parks his van opposite. He just sits around until she comes back, then moves in on her from behind that wall over there. She’s completely unaware of his approach and appears to be rummaging for keys inside her bag. The perp wraps his arm around her throat and covers her face with a rag. When she passes out, he drags her across to his van. The whole thing is done and dusted in under a minute. It seems Coniglio was right about the chloroform being used in the abductions.”

  Addison considered whether Jed had been adversely affected by the footage. “You doing all right today, partner?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sure. Never been fuckin’ better.”

  The disparity between his statement and mood was apparent.

  “Well, at least we’ve got something we can report to the lieutenant.”

  Jed forced a laugh. “You think? I wish you the best of luck with that. My guess is he’ll find a way to get uptight about the situation, and the chloroform will likely feed his obsession about finding where those drugs came from. I might be wrong, but the way he’s marching around this morning, I’d rather just stay the fuck out of his path.”

  “I’d imagine you’re probably right,” Addison agreed.

  Jed smiled. “What’s the story with you and Coniglio?” he asked.

  “Say again? What do you mean, me and Coniglio?”

  “Come on, Ad, there’s this thing that descends whenever the two of you are together.”

  Addison’s face reflected his astonishment. “What the hell are you talking about? What thing?”

  “A vibe like you’re both doing everything you can to hide what you think of each other. It kinda reminds me of junior high when all the girls would stand around tapping their feet while they waited for the boys to make the first move.”

  Addison was about to disagree when he noticed the lieutenant closing in.

  “I think you imagine things,” he asserted.

  Collins maintained a loose regulation on proceedings while he strode across the parking lot. It was easy to understand why he’d gained so much reverence from the cops he’d served with. Jed remained unconscious of the boss’s approach as he examined something in the corner behind him, so Addison nudged him with his elbow.

  “Mowbray, Perkins,” Collins greeted.

  They didn’t get the chance to return his acknowledgment.

  “Your investigation is fast becoming a clusterfuck. I’ve got everyone from the captain to the mayor lining up for a grab at my ass right now, and this latest turn of events is only going to increase their squeeze.”

  A brief silence passed between them before Collins continued his rant.

  “It appears a matter of time until there’s another body up in those hills. Does either of you care to hazard a guess on what parts of her will be missing?”

  Addison couldn’t recall the last occasion he’d seen the man behaving this animatedly and wasn’t sure how to respond. He just nodded with a look of earnest contemplation.

  “You’re both on call around the clock until we catch this slippery fuck, so make damned sure that you keep your phones with you at all times.”

  It wasn’t like they didn’t know that already.

  “And I expect you to remain clear-headed,” Collins revealed. “I don’t care how we get this cocksucker. Just get him off the streets and into a cage.”

  Collins looked from Addison to Jed, then back again.

  “If either of you somehow finds a way to screw this up, you’ll find yourselves working burglary out of Hollywood station faster than a speeding ticket. I’m sure they’d love to have a couple of homicide detectives on their team.”

  “We understand,” Addison countered. “We won’t let you down.”

  “That’s good to hear. All available techs are trawling through the victims’ social media accounts, and the calls have started coming in faster than we can answer them. You’ll need to get somebody to follow up on every half-decent lead.

  “I’ve also got people canvassing the hospitals in the local area because the ketamine he’s using isn’t coming off the streets. We’re in the process of collecting as much CCTV footage as we can get our hands on. Gas stations, tolls, the whole shebang. With any luck, we’ll be able to triangulate where this filthy fucking animal is operating from.”

  Addison suddenly found himself thinking about how the chloroform might affect the deployment of manpower, deciding now was the time to tell the lieutenant about it.

  “Are you aware Jed and I were with Coniglio when we received the call about the missing girl?” he asked hesitantly.

  Collins stared at him with unblinking eyes.

  “The examiner uncovered traces of chloroform in the Schneider girl’s blood. It appears he’s using it when he abducts them. Jed had a quick look at the tape upstairs, and the video supports the hypothesis. We think he uses the chloroform again as a convenience when he gets them from wherever they’re being detained. Then he injects the ketamine before he starts killing.”

  If Collins appreciated the new information, he wasn’t making it known. “And why the fuck am I only hearing about this now?” he fumed.

  “It’s like I said already. We just learned of this.”

  “You got anything else you’d like to share while we’re here?”

  Addison nodded. “The lab fou
nd a pillow fiber in the victim’s hair, which indicates there must be a common area where he’s holding them.”

  “Did Coniglio have an opinion on where he might be obtaining the chloroform?”

  “Yeah, she explained he could find it in most college science labs around the country. The only other place she thought he might be getting it from was the dark web. We received the call out soon afterward and didn’t get to go any deeper with her on it.”

  Collins remained silent.

  “There’s another thing,” Addison said, watching as Collins raised his eyebrows.

  “Well, go on.”

  “Coniglio believes interest in the occult might be the inspiration behind these murders. She thinks the signs are too aligned for the concern not to be genuine.”

  Collins appeared unimpressed and perhaps even annoyed. “Listen, Mowbray, the last thing we need right now is to whip the nation into a fix about the prospect of some devil-worshipping nutjob prowling the streets. Nothing good ever came from all the satanic panic that engulfed America’s suburbs during the nineties, certainly sweet fuck all to support the idea any such people existed beyond the realms of imagination. Do you remember the kind of shitstorm those three boys caused down in West Memphis?”

  The lieutenant’s reaction wasn’t entirely unexpected.

  “I’m not proposing we release details about any of this. But Jed, Coniglio, and I are of the mind that the ritual nature of these crimes may turn out to be the real deal.”

  Collins exhaled. “How, exactly?”

  “Well, he’s branding an inverted cross onto the victims, for a start,” Addison countered, looking toward Jed, who remained silent by his side. “Then there’s the manner he goes about his work, which suggests his connection to these women may not be completely random. The asshole splays the victims, keeps body parts, and doesn’t sexually interfere with them. What I do know is we aren’t dealing with a typical thrill kill degenerate, and he isn’t taking the kind of risks that scream it’s only a matter of time. My instincts are saying the ketamine is integrated into whatever it is he’s striving to do. At a pinch, I’d say we’re chasing a person of high intellect, and I don’t know why exactly, but I just can’t shake the feeling he’s working his way toward something.”