Forgetting Jane

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Cover Art:
Michelle Crocker

http://mlcdesigns4you.weebly.com/

Publisher’s Note:

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination.

Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.

Solstice Publishing -
www.solsticepublishing.com

Copyright 2016 CJ Warrant

Forgetting Jane

CJ Warrant

Dedication

I want to dedicate this book to some special people in my life.

First, to my husband David. You are, and always will be my steady rock, my home when I feel lost and the center of my universe. I love you for all that you give me, and the wonderful life and children we have created together.

To my children, for all of their patience when dinner is all you can find in the fridge and the quiet mood I need in the house when I write. I love you very much.

To my parents, Don and Min Cha. You’ve given me life, but also showed me so much more. You both have taught me that no matter what life hands out—good or bad, I have to push back or pull with all my might to achieve what I want. Through happiness and loss, I learned by example; to be strong, persevere and strive to be the best I can be. I love you both!

October 6th

Edge of Beaver Lake, Wisconsin

I
’m alive
.

The first drag of cold air into her lungs burned like acid. Her fingers stung, deep under the nail beds as she clawed out from the hard ground. She tried moving her legs, but her energy waned fast. No matter how hard she wrestled out of the hole, the lower half of her body was bound in the heavy cemented earth.

The sharp wind layered her like an icy blanket. A prickled sensation skated across her skin like razorblades. She shivered in pain.

A screech of an owl in the distance made her pause. Where was she? Dark surrounded her in its murkiness. Though a glimpse of morning light barely skimmed the horizon, the warmth of the day hadn’t touched her.

Too exhausted to move.
Rest
, she thought as she drifted in and out of consciousness. The rustling sounds of the hollow reeds and cattails startled her. The pain from her body finally dissipated, or was she that numb? The sharp whacking at the back of her skull thrummed to a continual dull pounding.

She tried to lift her head, but her neck craned the wrong way and her cheek stuck to the putrid dirt. Her joints turned rigid as a petrified log. Her brain screamed out orders to get up, but her muscles refused.

Her heavy eyelids were the only body part that moved. They drifted open, closed, and open again, using whatever energy she could muster to keep them up. However, her focus blurred in and out; she wasn’t able to see anything specific.

A filmy splash of yellow drew her eyes in. A girl? She stood at the distance, watching her die.              

I need your help!

The girl’s yellow sundress rippled with the wind but her long golden hair did not.

With every ounce of energy she had, she tried calling out, but her jaw seemed wired shut.

Why won’t the girl help me out of this hole?

Tears formed, she blinked away the blur, and the girl had disappeared. Where did she go?

A trigger of fear scurried down her spine like a fast moving millipede. A scream lodged in her throat for the girl to come back.

Nothing made sense anymore and sleep pulled her deeper into the dark, wanting to take over her dreams.
Yes. This was a nightmare and I’m in my bed, safe and warm.

Pop!

She jerked. Pain lanced through her body.

Was that a gun? Did
he
come back to finish her off? Terror flooded her mind. She compelled herself to move again, but her muscles had no strength—no viable power left in them. There was nothing left in her. Death was welcomed.

Clinking sounds of metal resonated in the air, which seized her breath from her lungs. Closer it came, her gut ratcheted tight. She swallowed hard, tasting the grit and copper on her swollen tongue to the back of her dry throat.

The frozen sprigs of grass next to her crackled. He stood right next to her. She waited. And waited. Her lungs burned from holding her breath. She closed her lids and wished this nightmare be over, and let Death finish. Tears slipped from the corners.

Please
—A soft yap halted her plea. A coyote? Her fear intensified. Being eaten alive wasn’t how she saw her life ending.

The animal sniffed about. So close now. She took a quick bleary glance.
A wolf
? He yapped and nudged her arm. Needled pain shot from her elbow. With every rough caress of the animal’s tongue, electricity zapped her fingertips. It was a dog. Relief flooded through her.

The dog barked feverishly. Muted voices carried by the wind, and stifled her budding hope to be rescued. Dread twisted inside her stomach like wrestling pythons.
It’s the bastard’s dog.

It’s almost over
.
So tired now.
Her lids became heavier. They slid closed. She didn’t care anymore.

Don’t sleep.

Those muted voices became clearer. Men…bickering.

“Skill, brother. That’s what I got.”

“What the…”

Then silence.

Pushing away the pain and sleep, she tried once more to move. Her index finger twitched. Sound of clomping boots echoed off the ground. All movements and sounds reverberated off her like a tuning fork. Her skin seared with heat as a pair of hot hands clasped around her wrists.

“She’s alive! Call Eli…” the man shouted, though she didn’t care anymore.

Someone found me.

“
S
low down, Harold and tell me what you found.” Elias kept his tone even. First time anyone had to call him before dawn since he took over the chief position four months ago, and it had to be one of his childhood friends.

“A naked woman, dammit,” Harold repeated with haggard breaths.

“Try to stay calm—”

“Calm? She’s a fucking popsicle! She’s dying,” Harold screeched into the phone.

Eli pulled the phone away from his ears. “Got blankets?” His voice raised an octave but retained a level of calm. He hated being yelled at, but understood his friend was freaked out.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Don’t move her, but cover her up. Where are you guys?”

“West side of Beaver Lake, just by the buckthorn cover, where we used to go duck hunting.” Harold’s voice shook.

“Stay put, I’ll be right there.” Eli jabbed the off button on his cell phone. He got out of bed and grabbed his radio. Once Elias radioed his second in command, Officer Tom Faber, who patrolled the west side of the county and Officer Tyson Ryan for back up to the scene, then called for an ambulance.

Knowing the area well, Elias rushed out of his family farmhouse and sped to the outer edge of Beaver Lake, twenty minutes away, lights flashing and speeding all the way there.

Elias jammed on his brakes, the vehicle screeched to a halt and he threw the shift to park just at the edge of a gravel trail. As he jumped out of the truck, the ambulance pulled up right behind him. He waited until the EMT’s got out, and raced toward the direction of the lake. They rounded a small thicket of skeletal buckthorns, to the location Harold had said. Even with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the fir trees shadowed the area with darkness. It was hard to see the ground.

Just past a small grove of trees, Elias stopped and quickly scanned the surroundings. The heavy breath of early morning cold seeped into his bones. He zipped his jacket up higher, dragged in a cold breath, and adjusted his cap. It was fucking cold out and he thankfully hadn’t had a haircut. The added blond length kept his neck warm.

The quiet of the large round lake made the scene eerie. No geese flew overhead, and the cold wind gently stirred the cattails at the edge of the water. Something unsettled inside Elias. He felt it in his gut and it wasn’t the victim Raymond was holding in his arms.

His friend cradled the woman like a child, while Raymond’s brother, Harold stayed a good distance away watching, with their dog Traitor at his side.

“Okay?” Elias bent down eye level to Raymond. His brown eyes were hooded with weariness.

“She’s so cold. Had to keep her warm. Don’t want her to die.” Raymond’s teeth chattered. His face was slightly paler than his normal light pink skin tone. And from what Elias could guess, it was from the cold and the blood on the woman’s head. He could never stomach the sight of it.

“Good thinking, Ray. Just hold on a little longer while the techs look at her.” Elias stood and stepped back, giving the EMTs room.

They crouched down, and began examining the victim. One checked the pulse while the other checked her temperature.

In the meantime, Elias carefully walked around the hole where Raymond and Harold pulled her out. How fucking awful to be buried alive.

A soft groan caught Elias’s attention. The victim was somewhat conscious. He looked down at the woman, and turned to EMTs. “How bad?”

“We need to get her to the hospital now. Her temperature is dangerously low. With the deep laceration at the back of her head, she also suffered a good amount of blood loss.”

The gash at the back of the victim’s head made Elias’s stomach churn. Her long black hair, mixed with the blood and dirt gave the appearance of dark red clay. The smell of iron fused with the decomposed soil made anyone with a weak stomach revolt. But add the odor of cow manure, even the strongest stomach would lurch.

“Get going.” Elias let the EMTs do their work.

After they quickly wrapped her head, they carefully lifted her out of Raymond’s arms and put her on the board they carried over and strapped her down.

Elias couldn’t help but take another good look at the woman’s face, hoping she’d show more signs of life. His heart faltered. The victim’s skin was smeared with dirt, and marred with purple and black bruises. Swollen, especially her right side of her face, her profile no longer looked normal, but almost Quasimodo-like. He hadn’t seen this much brutality since he served overseas in Afghanistan where some women were raped and beaten to death. She also reminded him of Elise…Elias shook his head, trying to shake off the image of the battered woman that constantly haunted his dreams.

His inhaled breaths were like glass shards in his lungs.
Who could have done this to her
?

As they covered her with a thermal blanket, her good eye popped open. She looked right at Elias. Fear and pain reflected from it. Elias lost his thoughts for a second, as he looked at her and smiled. “You’re going to be okay.”

The woman passed out before he had a chance to say something else.

“We have to go,” one of the tech said.

“Go. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The gnawing in Elias’s gut grew as he watched the EMTs lift the board and carry the woman off toward the ambulance.

Not a minute later, Officer Tyson Ryan rushed up. “Sorry Chief,” he sputtered, all flushed and huffing out breaths.

“About damn time. What took so long?” Elias bit out.

“I had to drop Beth off at the station,” Tyson said with trepidation.

Elias rubbed the back of his neck and eyed up the officer. He never realized just how tall Tyson was until he stood next the man. His six-foot four frame towered over Elias’s six. Anytime the officer got into trouble, particularly dealing with his wife, Beth, he slouched in defeat and his reddened face marred in a frown. It was a sure-fire tell that they were doing things they shouldn’t be doing on the clock.

“We’ll deal with this later,” Elias said with a frown. “Right now, I want you to head to the hospital and report everything you see and hear about the victim. Once Tom gets here, we secure the scene.”

“Will do, Chief.” The lanky officer nodded and hustled back to his patrol car and waited to follow the ambulance. God, he hated being called chief, but that was his title.

Traitor pulled Elias’s attention back to Harold. He walked over to his friend and stood next to him. He glanced over at the area. As a young boy, Elias used to fish and swim in that lake with these two friends. How ironic, the lake had been his only haven away from his brutal home, now marred by an attempted murder.

Harold, who was three years younger than Elias, had a dejected glower on his face. He kept glancing at the edge of the lake and then back to Traitor, who was showing teeth and growling.

“Shut up, Traitor.” With a sharp tug of the collar, the dog quieted down.

“What is it, Harold?” Eli studied the moving reeds at the lake’s edge. “Do you see something?”

Harold peered at him. “Nothing. I didn’t see nothing.” His eyes were bloodshot and glazed over as though he hadn’t slept in a week.

Eli bent over and examined the tufts of long yellow grass floating like blonde hair in the murky water. Unease cinched at his nerves. Wasn’t sure if the feeling resonated from the scene, the victim, or something else entirely.

Elias straightened and took in a long silent breath. This situation was just too fucked up. Everyone, including the dog, was on edge.

If the gnawing in Elias’s gut was a foreboding to how this case was going to turn out, his plans to leave Beaver Lake by March had to be postponed until he caught the son-of-a-bitch who had done this atrocity.

He hoped for the woman’s survival, because from the appearance of the crime scene, she might be the only one who could help catch her attacker.

As the dawn skimmed the horizon, the grey dusted clouds outlined the burnt orange against the coming blue sky. The calming colors had always reminded him of his place off the beach in California. Elias wished he were there now, but shook off the yearning and walked over to the other Kantor brother.

Wrapped in the camo blanket, Raymond looked like hell. His eyes were wide and fearful. His shoulders shrunk into his wool cover as shivers racked through his body.

“How did you find her?” Eli took out his notepad and directed his question at Raymond.

“Harold got off a lucky shot and the goose fell near her,” Raymond explained.

“Not luck. Skill.” Harold shot his brother a sneer. “You’re just jealous.” Harold’s indignation was somewhat diminished by his chattering teeth. Elias covered his small amusement with a cough.

“I’m far from—”

“Hey!” Elias gave a shout. “The victim?”

Harold wiped his nose with his sleeve before he spoke. “I sent Traitor to retrieve my goose, but he started barking like a rabid dog. So we ran over to see what he was yapping about and that’s when we found her.” Harold shrugged, eyes focused on the ground where they dug her up. He still had Traitor tight in his grip.

“She was stuck halfway out of the ground. We dug around her and pulled her out,” Raymond explained. “Will she die?”

“Don’t know. Was there anything else?” Elias looked up from his notes and saw both men shaking their heads. “All right, head home. I’ll call you two later with more questions.”

The Kantor brothers didn’t have to be told twice and took off.

Elias carefully walked over to the four-foot hole again. Multiple footprints obliterated the crime scene. It’s going to be hard to find a solid print and distinguish whose footprints belonged to who.

Officer Tom Faber pulled up and quickly got out of the squad. The balding man stumbled up with police tape under his arm and an evidence kit in his hand. Elias met him at the edge of small dirt mound.

“Where the hell were you?” Eli asked with a bite in his tone. “I needed you here sooner.”

“I was near Stockbridge when I got your call. And I had to get the evidence kit from the station.” Tom lifted the black case up. He whistled. “What a damn mess. I’ll cordon off the outer area of the crime scene.” He placed the evidence kit down next to the Elias and opened it.

“Yeah.” Eli expelled a breath. “I know.”

He was grateful that Tom had stayed on as his second in command. However, the officer’s constant tardiness rubbed Eli the wrong way.

As Tom staked posts in the ground, Elias cordoned off the area with the crime scene tape.

Elias ducked down under the yellow tape and carefully approached the four-foot hole cordoning off any viable prints and possible evidence. “Damn,” he said, studying the trampled ground. “I have some solid shoe prints here, but I’m assuming they are from the EMTs and the Kantors.”

“We have to get their shoe prints.” Tom tilted his head back to look up at the brightening sky, “It’s going to be a clear crisp Monday.” Then he handed Elias a pair of latex gloves.

“It’s going to be a long one as well. Once I’m done here, I’m heading to the hospital. I’ll contact the EMTs on what we need.” Eli examined the edge of the hole again, where blood pooled from the victim’s head.

Tom bent down, grabbed a digital camera from the kit, and began taking pictures. “Fine by me. You know, my granddad used to say, ‘A cold long day of work cleanses the soul.’”

Elias grabbed the small slender shovel out of the kit and scooped up wet dirt and studied it. “If it gets any colder, I’m going to freeze my ass off.”

Tom chuckled while he grabbed the evidence bag and handed it to Elias.

“I’ve heard you say that before. You were close to him.” Eli glanced at the officer, then back at the red-black dirt in his tiny shovel. He stood and put the soil in the evidence bag and sealed it.

“I guess you can say that,” Tom said evenly, his attention was at the hole.             

“Well, cold or not, we have to scour through every part of this area.” Elias looked back toward the lake. “Maybe we should check around the lake.”

“Why?” Tom paused and looked in the direction where Elias was studying.

“My gut is telling me to,” Elias turned back to Tom. “I don’t know why, but I think we should.”

“We should leave that part up to CLS. It’s too big of an expanse for us to work,” Tom suggested.

The Criminal Laboratory Services handled all forensic services throughout Wisconsin. A small town like Beaver Lake wasn’t able to manage evidence of this caliber. Elias realized it immediately when his predecessor killed himself.

Elias wanted to argue, but Tom made sense. It was too big of an area and he wasn’t sure what to look for anyway. “Fine.”

It took nearly an hour to comb through the crime scene, leaving the hole for last.

At the bottom, Tom pulled out a partial ripped up button shirt. He placed it inside the evidence bag and sealed it. The fabric was the only thing they were able to find—at least to the naked eye.

“What do we have so far?” Elias asked, moving his right shoulder around. Slight jabs of pain came from the old bullet wound he’d gotten four years earlier.

Tom clicked his tongue. “Your shoulder okay?”