Progeny (23 page)

She apparently received no response.

Angel cocked her head to the side, looked me in the eyes, and plunged the scalpel into the side of her neck.

“No!” Hank shouted.

I fired the Taser, hitting her above the right breast. The fifty thousand volts locked her muscles before she could injure herself further. She fell to the tile floor, the blade sticking out from the side of her neck.

“Cuffs!” I yelled.

Hank lunged at her, and linked her up. I knelt beside her and pulled the Taser’s barbs from her. My eyes went to the side of her throat. Blood ran across the handle of the scalpel and began to pool under her head. Quinlin and McCarthy holstered their weapons. Angel began to regain function. She moaned in pain as blood gurgled from her mouth.

“See where those paramedics are,” I said.

McCarthy left the house.

“Get me something to put on her neck,” I said.

Quinlin made for the kitchen and returned with a towel, which I held against her wound. She tried to fight it away.

“Quit moving,” I said.

She looked up at me. “Why won’t he talk to me?” she asked. “I did everything he wanted.”

I didn’t respond.

“Promise me they won’t cut off my wings,” she said. Blood ran from the side of her mouth.

Again, I didn’t respond.

McCarthy returned with two EMTs in tow. I left her side to let them attend to her. I took a few steps back and stood next to Hank.

Hank’s head swiveled around the room from right to left and back. “Are you seeing this shit?” He went to investigate further.

I took in my surroundings. Pieces of what I assumed was human skin covered the worktables. Dried blood covered the surfaces. Some of the skin was stretched on racks. A couple flies buzzed at the top of a large piece hanging in a corner. I took a step over and glanced inside the large barrel. It smelled putrid—chemicals mixed with decay. Bits and pieces of skin floated on the surface. A piece of paper taped to the wall read Tanning Solution
,
with instructions below it.

Hank stood across the room from me, next to a stainless-steel bakery rack. Each slot had a tray with what looked like salt covering it. He looked over at me. “There is skin on each of these trays under the salt.”

I felt my stomach knotting. I got the EMT’s attention. “Is she going to make it?”

One of them spoke over her shoulder. “She should. It doesn’t look like she hit her carotid or jugular. One of the guys is bringing a gurney in now. We should have her out of here and over to the hospital shortly.”

“Okay. Hank, McCarthy, Quinlin, let’s get out of here. We need to let forensics go over the scene and get a hazmat team in here.”

Hank was looking into a basket in a corner. He put his hand over his mouth and left the room in a hurry. I followed him out and caught up with him on the front lawn. He was hunched over, hands on his knees, heaving. He looked up at me. “Damn basket was filled with fat and maggots.”

My stomach knotted tighter. I could still smell the odor wafting from inside the house. “I’m going across the damn street,” I said.

Hank stood, wiped the side of his mouth with his jacket sleeve, and followed me over to our unmarked cruiser. We stared over at the house while the paramedics wheeled Angel White from the front. Bostok approached from behind.

“That’s her?” he asked.

I looked back at him. “Yeah.”

“How did it go down?”

I gave Bostok the highlights. He didn’t respond or question anything I said as he would be inside shortly, seeing it for himself.

“We need to get a hazmat team and forensics in there,” I said.

“I’ll get on the phone,” Bostok said. “You guys go home.”

“I’ll wait until we wrap up,” I said.

Bostok shook his head. “Did you happen to look around? It’s damn near daylight. I’m sure there will be news vans rolling up any second. Go home. We have the scene secure, and she’s in custody. Anything I need from you can be taken care of on Monday.” Bostok’s voice said it wasn’t negotiable. “Rawlings, that goes for you as well.”

“Come on, Hank,” I said.

Hank rode with me back to the station. We split up in the parking lot without saying much. I wasn’t sure if the reason was due to our lack of sleep or our trying to process the scene we’d just come from. I didn’t care either way at the moment. I just wanted a shower and sleep; however, I wanted to make a quick stop at the hospital first, which I did as efficiently as I could. I wanted Maria Flores to know that we had the woman that attacked her in custody. She thanked me for the personal visit and assured me that she would be more willing to listen to the warnings of police officers in the future. I was just happy she would be okay.

I walked into my condo, where Butch greeted me with a foot-and-leg thrashing. I didn’t have the energy to shoo him away. I let him finish and trot back to the couch, seemingly satisfied that he’d shown me who was boss.

After a quick shower, which I was pretty certain I’d slept through, I tiptoed into the bedroom and snuck into bed. I put my arm over Callie and my head down on the pillow. It had never felt better. I tugged the sheet up to my chin and let out a breath.

Finally, sleep.

I closed my eyes.

They were reopened what felt like ten seconds later by Callie, rubbing the side of my face and smiling. She crawled into bed next to me and put an arm around my neck.

“Come on, lazy. Get up,” she said.

“I just went to sleep a second ago.”

“No you didn’t. You were here when I got up this morning.”

I grunted and buried my head deeper into the pillow. “Couple more minutes,” I said.

“Carl.” Callie rocked my shoulders. “Get up. We have an appointment in an hour and a half.”

“For what?”

“To look at that house. I already called Kathy and pushed the appointment back. We need to get ready to leave.”

I cracked my right eyelid open and then my left. I squinted and looked past Callie, at the alarm clock—three in the afternoon. “Is that really the time?” I asked.

“Yes. Our appointment is at four thirty.” She pulled at my arm. “Let’s go.”

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. The ten seconds I felt as though I’d slept for, had actually been seven hours.

“Come on. I have breakfast and coffee going for you in the kitchen.” Callie walked from the bedroom. I pulled myself out of bed and stumbled out behind her.

I took a seat at the breakfast bar. Callie set a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon and eggs before me. I dug in.

“Thanks for rescheduling,” I said. I shoveled another forkful of eggs into my mouth.

“I didn’t figure you’d be up for much after getting in so late, or actually early. You actually worked through the night?”

I nodded and took a sip of my coffee. “We caught the woman this morning.”

“I know. It’s been all over the news today. To think those kind of people walk the streets until they are caught.” Callie shuddered and tried to shake away the thought. “Do you have to go in to the station today?”

“Cap says no.” I finished my plate.

Callie snatched it up and put it in the dishwasher.

I sipped at my coffee. “That’s another thing that I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Major Danes is retiring. Bostok is more than likely getting promoted to the open spot.”

“That’s great news,” Callie said. She started another cup of coffee for me.

“The captain mentioned that he was going to recommend me for his spot.”

Callie spun around from the coffee maker and stared at me. “Really? Captain? Baby, that’s great!”

Callie rounded the breakfast bar and wrapped her arms around my neck.

“It was just mentioned. There would be interviews and tests—a bunch of formalities.”

“When is this happening?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Like I said, it was just brought up. I should know more in a few weeks.”

“Wow.” Callie paused and scrunched her eyebrows at me. “When did you hear this? Why didn’t you call me right away with that kind of news?”

“I had so much going on, Cal. The thought didn’t even cross my mind again until a few seconds ago. Like I said, right now it’s just talk. Once—and if—it moves on from talk, then there is testing and all sorts of other things involved.”

She smiled and went back into the kitchen. “You’ll get it.” She took the cup from the coffee maker and poured it into a travel mug she grabbed from the cupboard. “Go get dressed, We need to go.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I went to the bedroom.

We left the condo a bit before three thirty. We neared the address right around four. I was fine with arriving early. If we beat Kathy, our realtor, we would have a little time to snoop around by ourselves.

Callie and I turned down the street the house was on. I spotted a Dead End sign up ahead. We passed a pair of gates leading back to a house about the size of my condo complex. The car’s navigation told me to continue forward to the address. The road turned to old brick and swung to the left. It immediately ended at a large pair of ornate iron gates. The brick the road turned into continued on up the driveway. On the stone posts, holding the gates, was the address on a black plaque with gold lettering.

“It looks like this is the place, Cal,” I said.

“We’ll have to wait for Kathy, huh?” she asked.

I killed the motor and stepped out of the car. Callie got out on the passenger side. I walked to the gates. A giant padlock on a chain made sure no one went farther. I gazed past them down the tree-lined brick driveway. I couldn’t see the house.

“Yeah, I guess we’ll have to wait. Let’s take a little walk and see if we can see anything.”

“Okay. Those big gates are kind of intimidating.”

I smiled. “That’s good. Keep all the riffraff out.”

She pointed back the way we’d come. “Did you see the neighbor’s house? I’m pretty sure there is no riffraff in these parts.”

We left the car parked and walked back toward the house. I looked down at the brick as we walked. From the bit of browsing I’d done on a couple historical websites, I knew the place had a pretty significant history in the area.

“What year was this place built?” Callie asked.

“1872, and added on to in 1890.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Are we going to be running into things that need to be updated all the time?”

“I don’t think so. It seems that everything has been restored, updated, and more. Obviously, we’d have to have an inspector go through the place.”

We turned right and walked a little up the block back toward the colossal house we’d passed on the way in.

Callie stopped near the home’s front gates. A middle-aged man was feeding an envelope into the property’s mailbox. He wore a baseball cap, a black T-shirt, and shorts.

He looked over and smiled. “Hello.”

“Hi,” I said.

Callie gave the guy a smile.

“I saw you come through. Are you looking at the Thompson house?”

“We are,” Callie said.

“Gorgeous place.”

A boy around four or five ran from the tree line and grabbed on to the man’s leg. “Hi,” he said.

I showed the kid a smile.

“Hi. How are you?” Callie asked.

“Fine.” He gave Callie a shy smile and ran back toward a woman standing near the house.

“My grandson, Jeffrey. He’s always popping out of some place. Do you guys have children?”

“Expecting,” Callie said.

“Well, it would be nice to see a family in that house. Pat Lewis.” He held out his hand for a handshake.

“Carl Kane.” I shook his hand. “This is Callie.”

Callie shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“How long has it been empty?” I asked.

“Since we built in 1984.”

The statement puzzled me. “Eighty-four?” I asked.

“Longer than that, I’d imagine.” He leaned his elbow on his mailbox. “How much do you know about the place?”

“Just what the listing said, and a little from what I’ve read regarding its historic status. What can you tell us?” I asked.

“Well, every piece of land you see here used to belong to the Thompsons from the 1880s up until the 1980s. When Maybelle Thompson passed, her children sold most of the land off to developers. That’s when we built. Before that, this all used to be orange groves.”

I nodded. “I read that.”

“Yeah, the processing barn is still there. They used to do all the boxing and packaging right there on the property. They’d put the oranges on the train after that. The barn is restored as well. It would be a hell of a nice shop space if someone was interested in that sort of thing.”

“He is,” Callie said.

“What do you know about the house itself?” I asked.

“Beautiful place now. Amazing, actually.”

“Now?” I asked.

“The place sat empty for almost twenty years. The Thompson children kept five acres and the house, but no one ever lived in it for more than a year or two at a time. The wife and I would check in on it every couple of months, to make sure all was well. It was, but it just sat there, unused. I wouldn’t say it went into ruin, but it needed work. I think it was two thousand five when Tom and Liz, the current owners, purchased the land and house.”

“They did the restoration?” Callie asked.

Pat shook his head. “They had professionals come in and do it. It took years. I’d pop in there every now and then to talk and see what they were working on. The attention to detail was ridiculous. Tom and Liz put who-knows-how-much money into the place. Probably more than the asking price, honestly.”

“With so much time and money invested, why are they selling?” I asked.

“I don’t think their plan was ever to live in it full time. They’d spend a few days out here every now and again. Most of the time, the property is rented out for weddings. They use the platform back there on the water for the bride and groom and seat the guests in the grass of the backyard. They’ll get one or two per month. Tom and Liz are getting a little older now, so I could see how it could become a lot to deal with to keep the place in flawless condition to be rented all the time, especially when you have to come in from out of town.”