Authors: J. A. Carlton
“Exactly.” She nodded then sighed, “So, Pete dropped off the sign in book from the funeral at his apartment right? Can I get started going through that and see if any names jump out at me?” she asked.
“Anything to keep you out of trouble,” he smirked at her cocked eyebrow and half frown, “Hey, blame Pete and Cap, don’t shoot the messenger.” He leaned forward, kissed her nose, then motioned to the bag on the bed, “Done?”
With a nod, they left the apartment, none the wiser that anyone other than them had ever been there.
--
In the main autopsy room, laid out on plastic was the outfit Diane had been wearing that day, a black skirt, the hose that had been glued to her ankles by the tapes adhesive, the blouse that used to be white, and her bra and panties.
His eyes moved slowly up the secretary’s body, starting at her now naked ankle, up the calf to the open thighs. The body was still stiff with rigor.
With the knees bent up and open, the travesty of what she endured before death shone glaringly in the unforgiving light. Her pelvis and genitals looked as if someone had plastered raw hamburger there.
“By the time he got down here, was she already dead, Reg?” Jase asked of the medical examiner, making a comparison to what appeared to be a frenzied attack vs. the tidier stab wounds on her torso. He elbowed Pete, pointing to the raised and outward facing leaflets of skin on the front of her chest and abdomen, “He stabbed her over and over again, hard enough to penetrate her entire torso, slit her throat…” he glanced up at Reg, “What’s the timeline? Do we have one yet?”
Reg sighed, “Despite the lack of blood where she was found, I’m gonna say the deader was the slash across the throat, which very probably occurred while he was in the act of sodomizing her.”
“What’d you get?” he asked.
“Vaginal secretions at the blade’s entry point and along the first half of the cut,” he shook his head sorrowfully, “As for the other wounds, what came first were probably the torso stabs, and those others probably came once he realized she was dead. He’s not a necrophiliac, so it’s possible he got grossed out and flipped.” He shrugged.
“Those technical terms, Reg?” Pete joked tightly.
“So, wait a minute, he hamburgered her first, THEN sodomized her?” Jase asked, wondering just how far around the bend this guy was gonna go before he slipped up enough to be caught.
Reg waggled his head uncertainly, “It’s hard to say for sure, but I really don’t think so, though there is evidence he used the blade to rape her vaginally first, cuts and abrasions on her cervix, slashes in the vaginal walls. It’s likely he got turned on with that, then moved on to the sodomy. That’s probably when he probably slit her throat.” he cleared his throat and shook his head, “After that is probably when he ground her up.”
All three men stood there stunned by the savagery of the act before Reg’s eyes flash wide and he asked, “Hey, did you guys get anything from the surveillance in the parking garage?”
Pete shook his head, “Nothing. Whoever he is, he knows what he’s doing. Severed primary and back up power to the security cameras in the garage and ONLY in the garage, so the main building security was none the wiser.”
“They’re not on the same circuit?” Reg asked.
“Primary power yes, but the back up is isolated just in case the rest of the building goes dark.”
“And he just,” the M.E. shrugged, “shut it all down?”
“And he just shut it all down,” Pete nodded.
“Did either of the guards get anything?” Reg asked.
“Yeah,” Jase nodded scrubbing his face, “they got taken out from behind and tied up in a supply closet.”
“At least they’re still alive,” the medical examiner sighed.
“Yeah. Keep us posted, Reg,” Jase nodded, leading the way out of the autopsy bay.
He stabbed her with enough force to go through her entire body at least a dozen times, that’s a lot of rage,
he thought, entering the hallway.
“How’s Sam taking it?” Pete asked.
“She’ll be keeping busy at your place, thanks for getting the funeral log for her, and for talking Cap into letting her do the comparison with the lists of folks who went to Bill and Sophie’s afterwards,” he nodded while they slowly walked the hallway toward the labs.
“What else?” the gigantic man asked, knowing his partner way too well.
“Remember, I told you about that group of folks that crashed the wake and funeral?”
“Uh huh?” he nodded.
“Well, the old woman, Waldham, showed up this morning at the Shiner house and told her Dave’s not her biological father. Man, you’da been proud of how she stood up to that… bitch. Our girl swatted her down like a fly.”
“Dave wasn’t her daddy?” Pete asked, taken aback. “Then who was?”
“Some guy, used to run security on the estate. I called up Al Hughes; he’s looking into it for her.”
“Good man,” Pete slapped him on the shoulder, “So, then what?”
“So, then she told MIZZ High’n Mighty that a dad is more than a sperm donor and they can all just take a flying leap.”
“She didn’t,” Pete laughed.
“She did, essentially. Then we went to the office and you called, and here we are.” He shrugged, stopping just outside the double doors that opened into the chemistry labs. “I don’t like this Pete. The guy’s from her home town, we got that figured, pretty much.”
“Yep,” his partner nodded.
“He killed Dave, he killed her secretary, she’s on his radar.”
The bear of a man smiled sadly, “Yep,” he concurred. “Which means we gotta get this sick son of a bitch.”
Pete tapped a button on the wall that opened the double doors, “So, if Dave’s not her real dad, what’s this old honey want with her?”
The senior detective shook his head, “God only knows. She said her grand-niece was Sam’s mother, and her father was this ex-head of security, she said she wanted Sam to know she has a ‘real’ family.”
“Do you buy it?” Pete asked skeptically.
“I’m a cop, man, I don’t believe in altruism.”
“You think the old woman coulda killed Dave to get Sam back? Or maybe the birth mother?” Pete mused.
“Not with a shovel, then again, who the hell knows,” he shrugged then shook his head, “But, no. Whoever did it fits in there. These folks, not a snowball’s chance in hell.”
“Hey, guys!” Ben Jarvis, a long-term lab rat, greeted them as they reached his door.
“Hey Ben, you got a match for us?” Pete asked.
“Do cops like donuts?” he bantered, grinning and handing Pete a sheet of paper that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but a scientist “It’s your boy.”
7
Randy watched the garage door close in the rear view mirror and cut the engine.
He sat back with a sigh, his eyes on the plastic grocery bag that held the envelope from the safe and three pairs of used latex gloves.
I’ll have to go to the hospital later and pitch those. Why’d she make me do it? It’s not MY fault.
“
He wants you to, he wants you to show him how much you love him, you DO love your brother, don’t you?”
“
Mm hmm,” young Eric’s voice agreed.
“
Of course you do, so do as I say and I won’t have to hurt him.”
The cords burned his wrists and ankles as he pulled against them, the bandana in his mouth that tasted like clean laundry felt gritty against his teeth, and the one over his eyes kept him in darkness. He knew anything could happen, he knew he might feel his brother come to make love to him, or at a whim, he might find himself screaming against the toy that often tore him, leaving spots of blood in his underwear as the only evidence of what went on sometimes.
He jerked reflexively against the cords with a whimper then settled with several full breaths into the tickling, tentative strokes of his little brother’s gentle hands, as he did what he was told.
A shudder brought Randy out of his reverie,
Almost done with this part. Soon, Eric, if you’ll still have me.
He stepped out of the van, stopping at his workbench where he stripped out of the jumpsuit, rolled it tightly into a ball and slid it into a fresh plastic bag.
With the envelope in one hand and the bag in the other, he strode naked through the door into the mud room where he carefully placed the jumpsuit into the washer and set it going.
Walking through the kitchen, he tore open the envelope and removed its tin clasp. From inside, he pulled the staple from the corner of the papers, then one by one slid them into the shredder without so much as a glance at the content.
He didn’t need or care to see what he was destroying. He’d succeeded in his objective; his tracks were covered for certain now, and he was free to move on to the next task.
Catching sight of the dried streaks of flaky brown blood on his body, he sighed, tracing the lines with his eyes on the way to the bathroom careful not to touch any of them lest he leave a trace behind. With the shower warming up he stood before the mirror lost in memories, crushing, burning in his chest while his breath shuddered into his lungs.
As that curtain inside his mind opened again, he froze still. His blood ran cold, his fingers trembled as he watched in terror from the perspective of the little boy on the screen of his mind. His breath caught and water filled his eyes.
“Please, don’t,” he whispered.
“
No! NO PLEASE, DON’T!” he screamed, feeling those impossibly strong hands fold him over a rock hard knee that jabbed in his belly. “I’m sorry! I’m SORRY!” he tried to push and hit and fight his way free.
“I’m sorry,” he shook his head.
“
Keep fighting and I’ll tie you up in the cellar again!” came the warning.
“
Please don’t hurt him anymore.” Eric asked timidly, crawling forward, his eyes crying for his big brother. “He said he’s sorry and won’t say ‘no’ no more, please momma?”
“
No! Your brother has to learn his place! He has to learn that HE does NOT tell me who I can and can’t play with, and he does NOT EVER EVER make a THREAT to tell about our private time! EVER!” she spat, then pointed to the box on the floor, “Give me the big one…” she directed.
“
No, no, no, no, no, Please!” Randy wailed and started to struggle again as, crying with
stuttering
breaths, Eric did as he was told.
“Eric.” He sighed stepping under the steaming cascade of water, remembering the taste of his little bear’s tears as the young one tried to take his mind off the burning tearing that had left him wounded and agonized for almost a week after that punishment.
You saved me, day in and day out, Eric. Do you have any idea how much I owe you? Everything, little brother, I owe you everything.
He leaned against the wall, tasting his own salt, fighting the shakes that rocked him as he recalled those gentle hands on his tender skin,
“’T’sokay, Ran, I’ll take care of you, I’ll make you feel better,”
soothing him, petting him carefully while he cried in his arms. Nearly four years would pass before he tried again to put a stop to it.
Fighting back the sobs that sometimes came when these memories forced their way out, he reached over to the edge of the tub working soap into the nylon brush there and began to violently scrub every reachable inch of his body while thanking whatever God there might be that he had a brother as kind and gentle and loving as Eric.
--
Finally feeling clean, he smiled faintly,
it wasn’t all bad times,
he admitted while sliding around the corner of Doc Evans’ ranch house.
Sometimes,
he nodded,
sometimes it was nice.
“
Shhh, it’s okay,” momma would soothe.
“
I don’t wanna,” Eric shook his head pouting. This particular day he was feeling a little left out, having spent the morning on a field trip with the rest of the kindergarten class.
“
You love him don’t you? He’s been waiting for you to get home, haven’t you Randy?” she asked.
Randy nodded his head and held out his hand.
“
Yes, I love him…” Eric nodded, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor.
“
And you love me too, don’t you?” she asked.
Again Eric nodded.
“
And you want your big brother to know it, don’t you?”
“
Mm hmm,” by now he had tiny tears in his eyes and his little rosebud mouth was quivering, wondering if his big brother really didn’t know.
“
Give him the special kiss,” she urged as the little boy drew near.
“
It’s okay, he doesn’t have to.” Randy had smiled at him, his warm big hand sliding into his hair as Eric climbed up and lay down with him. The youngest Custon couldn’t help but smile with the light of crystal clear joy in his big brother’s eyes.
“
That’s the good boys.” momma sighed, turning one of her toys on and using it on herself this time.
His lips curled up as the distinctive sound of Guns ‘n Roses poured through Eric’s open bedroom window. Randy cast a glance around the open expanse, taking it all in. From the long driveway that led to the barn in the back where the large animals were cared for, to the smaller kennel on the far side of the yard where sheep, dogs and a couple of goats were meandering or basking companionably in the warm sunshine, everything was quiet, except for his little brother’s bedroom.