Nothing Sacred (FBI Agent Dan Hammer Series Book 1) (33 page)

9:42
PM

54

Driving to Folly Beach was effortless at this time of night, the I-26 was barren. Only a few cars peppered the highway as Dan made the necessary turn-offs. His approximate arrival time… fifteen minutes. The scanner was uncharacteristically quiet. Unusually calm.

His attention was scattered, intrigued by his brief encounter with Sydia. Her unannounced appearance. Her obvious attraction to him. It made him smile, blush. In the privacy of his own car, he flattered himself. He checked his image in the rearview mirror. He stole a glance, positioning himself to take in his entire face. Not bad. Sometimes, he understood why women found him so attractive.

Not at all the sort of thing he should be thinking about on the way to a crime scene.

WTF?

Low-hanging fog rolled like tendril fingers across the Folly River Bridge. At the traffic light, Dan made a left-hand turn onto East Atic Avenue. It wasn’t difficult locating his destination; blue, red and white flashing lights danced in the distance. Pedestrians were already gathering on the sidewalks. People loved drama. Wooden police barriers held nosy neighbors back. Dan accelerated, concentrating on what could possibly lie ahead. Sydia and Dan’s attempted act of lovemaking and his wily, wicked thoughts would have to wait for the time being.

Dan parked by the long stretch of boardwalk running alongside the ocean. The night sky was hazy gray melting into the Atlantic. No stars, only the faint outline of a white moon hidden somewhere behind moody clouds.

Across the street, Wright and Evans spotted his car. He pulled the collar tight around his neck and crossed the street to meet them. The air was uncommonly cold. And wet. You couldn’t pay Dan to live out here!

“I got here as quickly as I could.” Dan kept stride with Wright. Evans tagged along close behind. They waded past people, places, objects and yellow crime scene tape flapping unnervingly against strong gusts of wind. Evans appeared pale, as if he’d seen a ghost, or something far worse. He wasn’t his chatty, annoying, always talking about nothing-self.

“Who’s watching your daughter?”

“Surprise visitor. The good Doctor stopped over.”

“Garrison?” Wright raised his eyebrows.

“Yep. Go figure. Good old Evans, always interrupting…” Dan looked around. Evans was eavesdropping in on the conversation. “Right, Evans?”

Evans shrugged.

“Evans picked me up at the hotel. He called from the Precinct and brought me here.”

“What’ve we got? Nothing came over the scanner.” Dan walked with Wright past manicured grass, trimmed hedges, and perfectly potted and arranged flowers.

“Residents from the apartment complex called in a complaint about a dog being locked up in a car in one of the parking lots. The first Officer to arrive let the dog out and the animal went berserk.”

“Is he still here?”

“I’ve already chatted with him. The strangest thing… the dog led the Officer to a patch of trees on the outskirts of the property. Once there, the dog began pulling at something.”

“Yeah, don’t keep me in suspense.” Dan pulled out his yellow pad and began taking notes, still trying to prove his worth. They continued up the stairs, along a cement corridor lined with matching apartment doors and back down another stairwell. A swimming pool glistened in the distance. Several patio tables surrounded it. Colorful umbrellas shot up from the middle of the tables like bamboo reeds, now closed and dormant. Steam rose from an oval-shaped Jacuzzi as they walked faster over more grass and shrubbery. Dan’s socks were already damp. Yellow and black crime scene tape shimmered in the distance. It summoned their expected arrival. Flashlight streams moved in the dark, a crossfire of dancing beams. Flashbulbs popped as a forensic photographer took photos of the area.

Wright handed Dan gloves as they crossed over the line. Evans stayed behind. “What is it?”

“Gruesome. Female. Cut up and dumped here.”

“We have identification?” Dan lifted the blanket covering the body. His eyes were not prepared for the sight. Underneath laid the disjointed remains of Janice Porter, the annoying reporter who broke the case. Dan closed his eyes. He returned the blanket, showing what respect he could.

“Janice Porter.”

Wright nodded.

A cry came from out of nowhere. It pierced the already-tense mood. They looked over to see Evans on the ground, bawling like a baby, hitting the ground with his fists. “Jesus,” Dan said, “get him out of here.” Cops picked up Evans and escorted him back toward the main property.

“We’ve started canvassing the area, asking questions. There was one resident, a female, mentioned she saw Ms. Porter arrive in the afternoon. She remembered her vividly. Her daughter was playing in the driveway with a new bicycle and she’d come outside to escort her back in.”

News traveled fast in small, rural areas.

“Where was Porter’s car parked?”

“We passed it.”

“And the dog?”

“Contained.”

“Let’s talk with the Officer.”

10
:34 PM

55

“Our time is the very shadow that passeth away…”

With the aid of a mild sedative, Alexandra continues to sleep. Night owls hoot around us. Swirling, diving sonar bats circle and silhouette the night sky.

Alexandra’s awakening to me at her bedside was welcome and unquestioning. I offered her a glass of apple juice, the small blue tablet already dissolved in it.

I will save her the pain I went through.

She asked to use the bathroom, which I attentively provided. I accompanied her as she went.

After all, I am her guardian.

Escorting Alexandra back into the bedroom, she never mentioned her Father or her Mother. I noticed the sedative affecting her coordination as she climbed back into the bed with my help. She smiled sweetly, thanked me, grabbed at her blankets and comforters and snuggled back into them. She drifted to sleep, unaware of her pivotal role in my release.

I carried her from the apartment wrapped in one of the blankets from the bed. I deposited her in the front passenger seat. Nobody noticed. The neighborhood was dead. The apartment complex quiet. The streets were empty as we drove over Folly Bridge to the original clearing.

My instruments waited for me in the backseat. Ready to save her. Me.

My small sacrifice…

At Old Towne Road, I was surprised to find the Police barriers still present, the area under quarantine. My sacred alter. I parked my car far from the main road and walked through the field carrying Alexandra to our final destination. My body had lost all sense of feeling. The wooden stakes were still present, evident of my precise dedication to perfection.

I positioned Alexandra down upon the damp earth and used the two stakes at the bottom of the triangle to secure her legs. Then I secured her hands. She was oblivious as I covered her up with the blanket. The temperature outside was cold.

“Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds, before they be withered…”

I have prepared for her. It is so uncomplicated with the sedative.

“I bless you, I become you, I am you…”

I take my ritual place between her young legs.

Remember Mother. Remember… the heat, how hot it was that day. Scorching. I was so thirsty. They wouldn’t allow us water. Not until afterward… not until… afterward...

Now, all I must do is wait. The sign will arrive. It always does.

Shadows dance like ghosts…

I know the end is near.

Soon, I shall meet Mother as I promised I would.

My Mother’s keeper.

I shall soar high above the Southern oaks surrounding us, my mission complete. For now, I must wait. For Father. He will come and save me. Save us both. I know he will. For the instructions made it perfectly clear.

I am ready for my return, Mother…

10
:01 PM

56

Police Officer Reardon was more than willing to recount his arrival to the apartment complex. He went into specific details on how he unlocked the car door and followed the dog to the body. Dan was impressed. The Officer made frequent glances to his spiral notebook, reading from legible notes scribbled in man-scratch writing.  Reardon explained the peculiar way in which the dog bolted from the car and hightailed it directly to Apartment 427. How the canine had made wild, crazy circles, sniffing around the base of the door before taking off down the back corridor stairwell and across the grounds of the complex.

Surrounding neighbors heard or saw nothing. They stated that “the lady” who lived in the apartment was quiet and seemed to work a lot. She didn’t get involved in neighborly functions, festive barbeques, potlucks; she was not overly friendly and stayed pretty much to herself. One neighbor thought she worked at a hospital, but nobody was sure. The apartment manager was unavailable for questioning. He lived nearby on East Ashley Avenue.

Wright and Hammer approached the Apartment with casual interest. It seemed suspicious that a dog would respond so inquisitively to a stranger’s apartment and was definitely worth investigating. The threshold lacked personal touches. Neighboring tenants had gone mad, it seemed, decorating their front areas with plants, tables, beach towels strewn over railings and sandals parked outside their doors laden with fine layers of sand. The overly stark quality in front of 427 was definitely noticeable.

Dan observed a tiny drop of smeared red paint about two inches away from the doorway. He bent down to take a closer look.

“What do you think?” Wright’s voice boomed over him.

“Paint maybe, possibly blood… I’ll be right back.” Dan left Wright at the doorway and went to his car. He opened the trunk and pulled out his Homicide Kit, compact but useful. Crowds of onlookers were kept at bay behind newly errected police barricades. News traveled fast. Voices carried as he walked up the pathway and rejoined Wright. “What happened? Where’s the body? What’s going on here?” Dan noticed the dog sitting in the driver’s seat awaiting his master’s arrival, lowering his head, close to the steering wheel, never losing focus on the door at the top of the landing. Dan felt sorry for him. Poor thing. Even though Janice Porter wasn’t one of his favorite people; it was horrible she met her untimely end in this way. Evans was so shook up after seeing the body they had to transport him directly to the ER. He began hyperventilating, couldn’t catch his breath, had some type an anxiety attack. His entire body began contorting in spasms from lack of oxygen to his muscles. Dan often wondered about those two. Where there was Evans, Porter was never far behind.

Dan pulled his digital camera out. He took several shots of the area. A long-range view to show relationship of the smear to its surrounding area and a short range shot to show the actual item being collected. He retrieved a razor blade from the kit and scraped a sample into a sterile container. He labeled the specimen with time and date and logged it into his notebook with corresponding information. He detailed the original position and location, sealed up the sample and sent it with an Officer back to the lab for examination. A nearby laboratory would perform the procedure necessary to obtain a blood type. If the specimen
was
blood, they would see if the type matched Porter. Evidence was crucial in building a case for trial. Every detail entered correctly. Dan had to be perfectly honest. He
was
showing off. Let
the
Wright observe
the
Hammerhead in action. His mind flashed to Sydia. How comfortable she looked, wine glass in her hand. Like she belonged there, with him.

Wright sneezed three times, each one accelerating in intensity. “Excuse me. Damn.”

“God Bless you.”

Wright wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He reached into his coat pocket for a handkerchief. Dan’s father used cloth handkerchiefs.  A vivid image of his Mother, dropping each of them, one by one, into the washing machine. Interesting what comes to mind…

Dan noticed a short, stocky gentleman moving with discomfort up the stairway. A set of keys dangled from his hip. His appearance was unkempt and tousled. He was badly in need of a shave. His pants were brown polyester and he wore a Hawaiian shirt too small to cover his protruding stomach. A cigarette hung from the side of his mouth. Puffs of smoke escaped as he lumbered up the stairs assisted by the metal banister.

“What’s all the racket about? Mind telling me?”

“I’m Detective Hammer from the Charleston Police and this is FBI Agent Harry Wright.” Dan showed him his badge. Wright was nonplussed by the sight.

“Somebody said there was a murder here? You aren’t safe anywhere these days.”

“I take it you’re the Manager?” The man reminded Dan of that character from the
Batman
series, the Penguin.

“Thirteen years now. Live around the corner. Never seen so many people hanging around here in all my days.”

“Would you mind giving us some information?”

“I don’t want no trouble.” He dropped his cigarette to the cement floor, stepped on it, and then leaned down to pick it up. He deposited the butt back in his pants pocket. “Like what? What do you want to know?”

“Who lives in this apartment?”

He pulled the chain to the keys jangling on his hip. “I’ll do one better than that.” He sorted through several layers of keys before examining a number written on a specific one. “Here we go.” He fit the key into the lock and turned, flipping the doorknob open. “It’s in my lease. I can enter a tenant’s apartment at will.” The door opened, exposing a dark interior. Cool air escaped into the hallway. No lights. No sound. Empty.

Wright spoke first. “We don’t have a search warrant, but with your permission, Sir, may we enter and take a look around?” They waited in anticipation for a dismissal. The chain of events that occurred daily in a police officer’s life were rarely, if ever, simple. The legal limitations in a criminal investigation concerning suspicion, sufficient probable cause, the filling out of affidavits to obtain a judge’s signature for a warrant, particularly in the dead of night, could be a test of patience and strength. This was a lucky break. Even if it led to nothing.

“Follow me.” The stubby man led the way. As they passed into the entryway foyer, he turned on the lights.

Dan looked down at his feet. “Jesus fucking Christ.” A puddle of blood, circling a six foot wide circumference surrounded them. At first sight, Dan jumped up to avoid stepping into it. Seconds later, Wright and the Manager witnessed the grisly sight and both followed. They stepped immediately back out into the hallway. Out of breath and gagging, the Manager sprinted to the terrace railing. His face turned white.

By accident, Wright and Hammer had discovered the original crime scene. The grounds located behind the building were used only as a dumping ground. Nothing had been touched. There wasn’t even an attempt to clean up the mess. The slaughter had taken place in the doorway. The body had been dismembered with the use of a handheld hacksaw. Residual tissue, bones and body parts littered the entry. The bloody instrument lay strewn on the floor. The remains had been discarded into black plastic bags, toted to the perimeter of the complex and thrown away, like trash, into and around, a shallow grave.

“Somebody was sure in a hurry.” Wright said, as he lunged over the bloodbath and into the apartment. Dan was surprised at his flexibility and followed after him. Outside he noticed the Manager using his cell phone.

Wright and Hammer cased the apartment. Dan pulled out his revolver, concurring with Wright each room’s safety. Property secured, Wright entered into the kitchen while Dan went into the bedroom. A feeling of pending doom lodged in the pit of his stomach. The bed was made. The closet doors were shut. The telephone answering machine was blinking, sporadic red blips. Dan looked in the closet mirror as he pressed PLAY.             

“This is Detective Hammer. I… Dan that is. I got your message.” A chuckle. “Actually, I found the matches. Very good. I liked that…”

Dan pressed STOP.

He turned around.

Where am I? Who lives here?

His mind began scaling hurdles. Emotional balance was lost as he scaled dangerous perimeters on overload. Nerve impulses missed appropriate connectors. Much needed information jumbled.
Medical reference books lined the desk…

…a Doctor?

Oh, dear God! A melting occurred in his stomach. Bile rose to his throat. A force so strong, so savage rose from deep within him, one he could not possibly contain, one originating from past regrets, past pain, and rage. Wright ran to the door as Dan landed on his knees, put his hands to his face and screamed.

“What? Dan, what’s going on?”

Dan rocked back and forth. He looked over at Wright, who was now kneeling down beside him. He held onto Wright’s shoulder. Outside the Manager yelled into the apartment.

“A Ms. Garrison. Sydia. The woman who lives in this apartment is Dr. Sydia Garrison.” He pronounced Sydia wrong.

Dan rose from the floor. “Sydia Garrison HAS MY BABY!”