Requite (3 page)

“Don’t most new cars that aren’t hybrids get around forty miles a gallon these days?”

“Some do, sure.”

“But you chose that one?”

“Well, it’s not just the mileage. It’s also doing my part for the environment.”

“Environment, huh?”

“Yup. Every little bit helps.”

“Right. So Karen didn’t have a hand in your vehicle choice?”

He changed the subject confirming what I already guessed. “See the Crime and Conviction show on Cross last night?”

It had been three months since my encounter with Bob Cross. The local news coverage of the case had faded, but I wouldn’t be able to forget him that easily. A four inch scar spanned the side of my head from the bullet that almost took my life. It would remind me of Cross every time I looked in the mirror. I had tried growing my hair to cover it, but it just didn’t feel right. My sister suggested seeing a plastic surgeon while I was up in Wisconsin visiting. She claimed that they could make the scar almost unnoticeable. I opted to not. The events that took place were always going to be a part of me, and now, so would the reminder.

The buzz around the station over the last few weeks was the COP channel airing a recreation of the Cross case. I had no interest in tuning in. Watching some actors portray what happened wasn’t high on my list of must see TV.

“I must have missed it.”

“They made you out alright. It was a pretty accurate portrayal.”

“Oh yeah?” My interest peaked.

He smiled. “Yeah, they got some big meat head to play you. Apparently you talk like you are from Canada too. Lots of
ehs
and
aboots.
”

“Great.”

“They guy that played me was pretty good. I have to say that I would’ve liked to see them build my character more.”

My desk phone rang saving me from more of Hank’s ramblings about the television show.

I scooped up the receiver. “Lieutenant Kane.”

“It’s Bostok, come to my office. Bring the male model with you.” The captain hung up.

I smirked, pointed to the door and stood. “Cap wants us in his office.”

Hank scooted his chair back and followed me out.

I gave the captain’s door a quick rap with my knuckles. I saw him waving us in through the glass.

Captain Bostok looked up from his desk and took off his glasses. He was wearing a new style of mustache that was taking a little getting used to—it was thick, white and extending down his neck. I believed it to be a fu-manchu style. The section of mustache to the sides of his mouth had collected the crumbs of the blueberry muffin he was three quarters through with. More crumbs had fallen to rest on his shelf of a stomach. He tossed the last bit of muffin in his mouth and took a sip of his coffee. He brushed the crumbs from his belly and desk into the trash bin. The captain pointed to his guest chairs, signaling Hank and I to sit.

The captain looked to me. “Where are you at with the schedule?”

“I was almost done. The power going out just wiped out what I was working on.”

“Just bring me what you have and I’ll take care of the rest. You guys have work. I just got a call from the guys over at District Two. Someone called in a double homicide. I need you guys to go head it up.”

A look of confusion spread across Hank’s face. “You want us to head up something at District Two?”

“Lieutenant Rothstein is on disability leave for a few months getting a fresh knee replacement. Budget cuts have prevented them from filling the position for their number two. Major Danes offered up our department to cover the slack.”

“Alright. Where are we headed?”

“Eight twenty-six, Pike Terrace, New Tampa.”

Hank and I made our way out of the station and outside to the parking structure where we kept the cruisers. We headed over to my unmarked Charger and made our way from the station. I’d been driving the undercover police issue since the demise of my Mustang while working the Cross case. The insurance company totaled it and paid me out. I was up in the air about what to purchase to replace it. I’d been leaning toward a new Corvette but Callie and I were doing a lot of outdoor activities. We had been going camping and fishing, plus I bought a pair of kayaks. A two seated sports car wasn’t conducive to those things. I had been trying to talk her into trading her BMW in on a Jeep. It was a work in progress.

The drive from the station took us almost forty-five minutes. Normal traffic, while annoying enough, increased threefold when there was a drop of rain. This was more than a drop. The rain drove sideways. Cars turned on their flashers and pulled to the side of the road. The cruiser’s wipers on high could barely keep up with the sheets of rain cascading down the windshield. Like someone hitting an
off
switch, the rain stopped four blocks from the address. We pulled into the subdivision and spotted the scene a few blocks up the road. Squad cars lined the sides of the street. The county’s familiar coroner’s van was backed into the home’s driveway next to a blue Hyundai, which I assumed belonged to the homeowners.

We pulled along the side of the road and parked behind another unmarked cruiser. I killed the motor. My phone vibrated against my leg. I slid it out of my pocket. It was a text message from Callie asking if I wanted to do dinner and a movie. I typed in
sure
and tossed it on the dash. Hank and I hung our badges from our necks and stepped out of the car. Scott Clark, the captain of District Two’s Homicide Division greeted us at the front door. He was a stocky man in his early fifties with brown and gray short hair—no mustache, no beard. His peaked hat with plastic rain guard sat atop his round head. His shoulders were broad and wet from standing out in the rain.

“Captain Clark,” I said.

“Lieutenant Kane, Sergeant Rawlings, thanks for lending a hand here.”

I shook his hand and gave him a nod of the head. “No problem. What are we looking at?”

He motioned us to follow him inside.

Captain Clark took off his hat and shook the beads of water onto the ground. He stuck it under his arm and led us into the house’s living room. “Call came in about nine-thirty this morning.”

I looked down and caught the time on my wrist, it was a little after eleven. “Who called?”

“Someone from James Miller’s cell phone—James Miller being the homeowner. He was dead prior to the call. So we’re thinking it may have been the perpetrator. Anyone else and they would have stuck around.”

I nodded. “Were you able to track the call?”

“No. We haven’t found a cell phone here either. We found two cell phone chargers plugged into the wall, no phones.”

“So, there’s a chance that our killer took them.”

Clark nodded. “That’s James Miller there.” Captain Clark pointed to the dead man lying on the living room floor. Next to him, in a chair, a woman lay slumped over. The room was spattered in blood. A thin, gray haired man in a white coat knelt with his face no more than an inch from the back of the dead man’s head. Ed Dockett, the county’s chief medical examiner, appeared to be getting up close and personal with the cause of death. The man’s skull was sunken in.

Ed took his face from the man’s head and rolled him onto his back. The man’s eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. Ed looked to Hank and I. “These two have been dead for about twelve hours or so.” Ed waved me over. “Come here and check this out, Kane.”

I walked to Ed, Hank followed.

“Got writing carved into these two’s foreheads.”

“Writing?” I asked.

Ed raised his gray eyebrows. “Look here.” He ran his finger in the air over the man’s forehead and traced out the letters. “It says
Justice
.”

I nodded.

Ed pulled himself to his feet and walked to the woman slumped over in the chair. He again traced the letters in the air in front of her forehead. “The writing on her head says
For
.” Ed used the back of his gloved hand to push his glasses back up his face. “Justice for,” he said.

“Justice for what?” Hank asked.

I let out a puff of air through my nose. “I have a hunch we’ll find out.” I spread my fingers, pointing to the two dead bodies. “I’m guessing I know the cause of death.”

“Yup, blunt force trauma.”

“Bat?” Hank asked.

Ed shook his head. “Thinner than that. Something like a pipe or crowbar. I’ll be able to get a better idea once I have them on the table.”

I spun my head looking around the house. Nothing looked missing or out of place. “Anyone from Forensics here?” I asked.

“Tony Spagnole was in here before with that Pax kid,” Ed said.

“Pax? He’s one of ours.”

Ed shrugged. “Don’t know. The kid is here though.”

“I’ll go find him,” Hank said.

“Thanks, Ed. How long should I expect before the reports are ready?”

“I should be able to have at least one of them before your shift ends—both by morning for sure.”

“OK, give me a buzz when they’re ready.”

Ed turned his attention back to the James Miller’s body on the floor. “Will do, Kane.”

I walked to go find Hank, I found him outside the front door talking to Pax and Tony.

“Tony. How’s it going?” I asked.

“Good, and you? How’s the noggin?” He swiped at the side of his head referencing my scar.

“All good. I just have minor brain damage. What was your name again?”

He chuckled.

I nodded to the peach fuzzed twenty year old in the white jumpsuit. “Are you stepping out on us already, Pax?”

He smiled. “Nah, they just have me splitting shifts between the two districts. Figure I can get more training this way.”

“Alright. Well, you guys want to show me what you found?”

Tony motioned for Pax to take the lead.

“Sure. Let’s start at the back of the house.”

I stepped to the side so he could pass and we could follow. Pax took us to the entrance of the lanai at the back of the house.

“We found a cut around the screen here. This is our point of entry. No prints. We got some residue though.”

“Residue?” Hank asked.

Pax nodded and walked through the doorway. He took us to the glass sliding door leading into the back of the house.

“We found this unlocked. There’s more of the white residue here and on the edge of the door. It appears to be cornstarch.”

“Latex gloves,” I said.

“That is correct.” Pax walked through the open sliding door into the kitchen. We looked out into the living room. They had removed the man’s body. Two of Ed’s guys tandem lifted the woman’s body onto a rolling gurney. On the top, a body bag waited to accept her. Her arms flopped to the sides as they placed her down. They folded them across her chest and zipped her in. A white sheet was placed over the bag and they began to wheel her through the living room to take her out.

Pax continued. “Here is what I think happened.” He walked from the kitchen to the living room behind the chair where the woman sat. “Judging by how the bodies lay and the patterns of the blood, I believe the woman was first. All the damage came from above and from the back. Our killer struck her over the back of the chair like this.” He brought his arm up and down to show the motion. “I don’t believe the first blow killed her. She had damage to her fingers.” Pax pulled his small hands over the top of his head and interlocked his fingers to demonstrate. “I think she felt the first blow and reached for her head, getting her hands in the path of the next blow.” He pointed to the lampshade and the coffee table. “You see how the blood spatter appears to be directional going away from her here?” He motioned away from the top of the chair where the woman sat.

“And the husband?” I asked.

“I think he was coming to her defense when he was attacked here.” Pax walked to the middle of the living room in front of the pool of coagulated blood. “He had one blow to the front of the head and the rest to the back of the head. So the first put him to the ground here.” Pax pointed to the floor. “Then our attacker stood over him and hit him multiple times in the back of the head. We have blood spatter on the chair and carpet coming from way down here where the man’s head was.”

I nodded, everything the kid said had made sense with what he had shown us except one thing. “How could someone attack you in the middle of your living room without being noticed walking up?” I asked.

Pax shrugged. “They could have been asleep in front of the television.”

It was simple and plausible. Hell, I fell asleep in front of the television daily.

“Thanks, Pax. Let us know if you find anything else.”

“Sure thing. I’m going to do a couple more laps around the house and make sure we haven’t looked over anything. You’ll be the first to know if something else turns up.”

Hank and I made our way out front of the house.

“Well?” Hank asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine—revenge killing for something. We’ll dig into their backgrounds when we get back to the station. Let’s go check if anyone has started door knocking yet.”

I surveyed the scene looking for a patrolman in charge or for Captain Clark so he could point us in the right direction. We found the captain two houses up the street talking with a neighbor. He excused himself from the man when he saw us approaching.

He nodded back to the man he had just come from. “Neighbor here is a Lance McDermott. He said he had spoken with James Miller last night around seven o’clock.”

“Did he see anything unusual going on over here after?”

Captain Clark shook his head. “No. He said they had some normal small talk before he left to take his son to his hockey game. When he came back around 10:00 p.m., the Miller’s house was dark. He’s the only person in these neighboring houses we’ve talked to that had contact with the Millers yesterday.”

“No other witnesses?” Hank asked.

“Negative. The house next door we aren’t getting an answer at and the homeowners across the street said they didn’t see or hear anything.” Captain Clark pointed at the row of cypress trees. “The tree line there blocks the house from view of anyone else.”

“And aside from cell phones, nothing appears missing or gone through?” I asked.

“No. We’re still looking, but nothing apparent.”