Fury From Hell (9 page)

“You’re all cop, aren’t you?  You ever take off that badge?”

She refused to feel admonished.  “You’re avoiding the question, Chad.”

“Okay, next Friday evening.  I’m off on Fridays.  Will that work?”

She weighed her options.
One date won’t kill me…will it?  He’s cute, actually he’s very handsome.  But, what if he’s some kind of closet freak or a crackhead?  He’s a bartender for Chrissakes!  What kind of man is a bartender for his real job?

“You gotta answer a question for me.”

“What is it?”

“What else do you do?  I mean besides bartending.  You got other hustles?”

She could hear the smile as he answered.

“Not exactly a hustle.  Do you remember I told you my family has a horse farm?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I sort of have a trust fund.”

“You don’t say.  And this — trust fund — allows you to do what you want?”

“Pretty much.”

From his tone she surmised the rest.

“I get it.  You had to run with the horses and the business and you weren’t too happy with your lot.  So, you bargained for more time, right?  So you could find yourself?”

He whistled.  “Not bad.  My Dad did want me to help with the business but his definition of help was actually to run it.  I’m not the oldest.  Dad’s offer caused an issue with Bart — the oldest.  To prevent World War III and IV, I moved to New York saying I needed to experience the big City before I could settle down to a life on the farm.”

“Got it.  Any other siblings?”

“Is this the Inquisition?” When he received no reply he sighed and continued. “Yeah.  It’s Bart, me, Jack-jack and Susanna.”

She snorted, “Jack-jack?”

“What?  Never had a nickname pinned on you?”

“Actually, no.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Chagrined, she dropped it.  “So, next Friday.  It’s settled.  Where will we meet?”

“Will you allow me to pick you up?  Or, do we have to meet in a neutral zone?”

Jennifer couldn’t help herself.  A sunny smile brightened her face and colored her next statement.  “Even if we met in a neutral zone, somehow I think you’d do something to make me feel unsettled and swept off my feet.  I’ve never been wooed by a cowboy before…”

“Horseman.  We don’t do cows.  At least…not anymore.  It’s a long story.”

“See?  I was right.  There
were
cows in the picture!”

“But — you know what?  Never mind.  I’ll be whatever you want me to be as long as you let me take you to dinner.  I’ll never wear chaps though!”

They both chuckled.

“Okay, I’ll never request that of you.  And you can never request that I not travel with my weapon.”

“Okay.  That came out of left field.”

“I’m a cop.  I never leave home without my piece.  You need to know that so if you’re not comfortable you can let me know right now.”

“Is this how you scare men off?  ‘Cause it’s not working.”

Shit.  Thought it would work. 
“No!  No.  I’m not trying anything.  It’s been a problem before and I wanted to get it out of the way early.  Guy was freaked out by guns.  Saw someone get whacked when he was young.  Couldn’t stand the sight of my holster and…”

“I’m not him — if he ever existed.  In horse country we have rifles, pistols, and all types of weaponry and dangerous implements for branding.  There are those who try to steal our horses.  We protect them hwever we can.  Got anything else up your sleeve?  Wanna try your bi next?  What about you’re in a complicated relationship?  I won’t believe either one of those so shoot for something original, hmm?”

“Next Friday.  We meet in front of wherever you’re taking me.  You text me the address the day before.  You have issues, you call me.”

“Yes, Sir!  Permission to sign off, Sir!”

“Smartass.”

She hung up on him but couldn’t keep the cheesy grin off her face.

Friday, November 9
^th
, 5:00 P.M.

“I had to clean up, right?  What was I supposed to do?  Leave it there?”

“That’s not what I would have done after getting sick at the club and then being sick again when I got home from the club!”  Babs laughed.

“You’re a filthy pig that’s why!”  Jennifer grinned as she chomped on her turkey burger while using her head and shoulder to hold the phone.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.  But seriously, you let Chad leave you on the street?  You go home, get sick, scrub the place and yourself then go to bed?  Who does that?  It sounds like something you’d hear on a reality show about obsessive compulsive people, or that show.  Uhm—”

“
Monk
?  The OCD detective?”

“Yeah!  That’s the one.”

Jennifer quietly said, “I love that show.”

“Oh.  Jen, I’m sorry.  I —”

Jennifer shook it off refusing to go down the path of memories.  It was off-limits in a conversation with the woman that was going to teach her how to feel beautiful.

“It’s nothing.  You pegged me right.  I’m a bit of a weirdo and the only thing I can do is try to keep it better hidden.  So, I need to know what clothes I should look for.  I’ve seen
What Not to Wear
a few times but I just couldn’t get with it.  And body type? Haven’t a clue.  Any advice?”

When the spark came back into Babs’ voice, Jennifer knew she had chosen the right segue to end the uncomfortable conversation.  She continued to munch on her burger ecstatic she had averted serious talk.

Babs bubbled on about boots, skinny jeans and shirt styles that would look fetching on Jennifer.  The focus was to highlight Jen’s best feature — her arms — and which colors would make her dark brown eyes pop — the greens and the blue hues in the richer tones.  Jen’s darker coloring — her perfect café au lâit
skin tone — would make her look regal in the rich jewel tones.

Jennifer wanted to run into a corner and hide after 10 minutes.  Half an hour later when the burger was but a memory and Babs was still waxing on about pairing scarves to add texture, color and
‘pop’
— which seemed to be Babs’ favorite word Jennifer got saved.

She heard the beep of an incoming call. It was Betty.

“Gotta run!  A work call.”

“We’ve got to go shopping so you can try on the combinations I’m talking about!”

Jennifer barely suppressed a shudder; shopping was the bane of her existence.  “Sure.  We’ll talk soon.”  She clicked over immediately severing the line to avoid committing to an actual shopping spree date.

“Thanks for saving my butt, Feinster.”

“From what?”

“The Babs-Texture-N-Pop-Shopping-Spree reality show.”

“Well, with the extra set of bucks you won last week you can afford to shop.”

“Well shit!  I forgot about that!”  Jennifer jumped up, rushed to her satchel bag and looked inside the zippered pocket.  Sure enough the winning scratch-off ticket was still there.  q“Got it!”  She grinned.

“You are so stupid.  Most people would have run to cash that in the same day and here you are — what over a week later?  Just remembering?  You’re not stupid, you’re a certified nutcase.”

“Yeah well, I only had a little case of a murder with signs of
serial killer
to investigate…”

That shut Betty up fast.

“What do you mean
serial
?”

“While I was rooting around the database, I was inputting all the crazy variables I could think of because this guy seemed so clean and precise.  Barnes was clearly targeted and watched for some time.  He had to know her schedule and the route she walked.”

“How do you figure that?”

“It was a strong hunch and no one popped from her friends, family or familiar haunts — not even a little.  She was a squeaky clean fashionista from what I can tell.  So, I began putting in Halloween, rape, mid-twenties, Caucasian female.  Stuff like that and the pattern pinged.  Every other year, a woman is raped in a very similar fashion to Barnes.”

“How similar?”

“Almost exactly the same as Barnes.”

Betty whistled then asked, “How exact?”

“Everything same except for one of them had her breasts cut off.”

“Ouch!”

“All the others were exactly the same as Barnes.  More or less knife-work is the only small variable.  Ten more cuts on one than the other, you know?”

“Shit and a half.”

“Yeah, ditto.”

“Why didn’t anybody put this together before?”

“Probably because it was every other year; the pattern isn’t readily apparent.”

“For how long?”

“Give or take ten years.”

“Four other murders!”

“Yup,” Jennifer smiled with satisfaction.

“So when were you going to tell me?”

“I wanted to tell you the other night but you went and told me that I had to quit.  I had to go out, get shit-faced drunk and sleep with strange men.  ‘Member?”

“I didn’t say you
had
to sleep with Chad; you just
should
have.  Have you called him yet?  It’s almost five o’clock.  You think he’d be up now?  Or, still sleeping?”

Jennifer sighed, “Yes, I called him.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Don’t make me pull your tongue out through this phone…”

“So, we have a date next Friday.”

“Wahoo!  It’s about damn time.  Where ya going?”

“Out.  Now, do you, or do you not want in on this case?  You want in…
dontcha
?”

“Selfish spoilsport!  I want the deets after the date and of course I want in!  So, what do I have to do Holden?”

“Lemme think hard on it and get back to you.  Right now, I’ve got a golden ticket to cash in.”

“If you don’t let me in on this case I’m going to tell Babs you won fifteen hundred bucks and have money to burn.  She’ll be on you like white on rice for that
shopping spree
…”

“If you tell her…”

“Yeess?”

“I’ll, I’ll…”

“Ya-huh, you’ll have to go shopping.  You’re no fool.  Babs will take no excuses and will manhandle you into her vehicle.  Then, she’ll make you try on each and every outfit combo that she thinks would look great on you.”

Jennifer was turning green from the inside out.  Her brain went into overdrive at the thought of Babs dragging her to the mall like her mother did years ago.

“Jenny, this would look so nice on you!  Try it on.”

Her mother nudged the 12-year-old Jennifer to the fitting rooms avoiding the girl’s bruised arm covered by a ¾ sleeve T-shirt.  Little Jennifer glared at her mother and stood firm finally realizing her mother
knew
.

“No!  That skirt and blouse won’t make Uncle stop touching me, Mom.  He might even like it too much.  No!”

Hastily putting the set down, her mother fidgeted and ran to another rack pulling at designer jeans. 

“Here.  What about these?  They’re really cute.  See the sequins?”

Her mother’s eyes begged the preteen for forgiveness and understanding.  Jennifer could see the tears glistening in the corner of her mother’s eyes.  Guilt rammed hard in the little girl’s stomach.  She turned away crossing her arms against her board flat chest and tapped her foot.

After a tense thirty second standoff, little Jenny sighed blowing air through her teeth.  She gave in to the guilt.  Marching over to her mother, little Jennifer grabbed the jeans out of her mother’s feeble grasp and continued into the fitting room.  Without a backward glance, she forced herself not to cry for herself or for her mother’s weakness…

With her throat constricted, Jennifer held the phone and tried to breathe through the onslaught of emotions.

She croaked out, “Can you stop her?”

“I sure can,” Betty said in a voice oozing with honey.

Jennifer knew Betty had no idea of the emotional maelstrom the shopping trip caused.  For that, Jennifer was grateful.  Jennifer knew Betty would never understand; her world was way too normal.

“Okay, you keep Babs from taking me shopping and I call you in as back-up whenever the Brass sniff out what I’ve got going on.  Deal?”

“Deal!”

“Conniving bitch…”

Betty just laughed a deep throaty sound as Jennifer clicked off still disturbed by the shopping memory.  She knew deep down she needed some serious help.  One day her phobias would be the death of her if she didn’t do something about them.

Having had enough conversation for the rest of the weekend Jennifer headed to the bathroom to rid herself of the unwanted feelings and memories with a good scrub under pounding hot needles of water.  Halfway there, she stopped and turned away.  Too anxious to shower just yet, Jennifer paced around trying to regain poise and control.  Taking deep breaths she willed the memory and the turbulent emotions away.  As the shopping memory receded, a burning anger replaced it making Jennifer’s blood boil.

The Fury followed the anger back to the memory it stemmed from.  When the journey ended deep in Jennifer’s hippocampus, Abatu smiled.  Just as the demon suspected, there was damage.  The Fury caressed the slightly shrunken organ.

Jennifer shivered uncontrollably.  It felt as if someone had walked over her grave.  She forced herself away from the unreasonable anger she felt and paced around her apartment biting her lip.  She knew that getting angry was bad.

Whenever she had gotten angry in the past
he
would laugh and laugh.  He would point fingers at her, clutch his bloated, almost-paunchy stomach and laugh until tears came down his day-old bearded face.  She tried to forget the white ribbed sleeveless T-shirt and the unbuckled nondescript khakis he always wore.  Shuddering, Jennifer tried to put the memory of his large bare feet with the gnarled blackened toenails out of her mind.

To this day, she hated imperfect feet and any hint of obesity.

Jennifer ran into the bathroom stripping in a mere five seconds.  Using the loofah, she attempted to scrub away the memory of his overlarge feet and paunch.  She scrubbed in fits and starts not knowing why but just going with what she was feeling.  Until some minutes later, sighing she welcomed the relative peace of bruised raw skin in place of the less pleasant images.