Violence of the Father (A Trinity of Death Romantic Suspense Series Book 2) (4 page)

“It’s not like I was planning to have kids right away…or even meet my boyfriend at my job,” she says. “But I like to have that option open to me. Why don’t you want kids?”

“Because I don’t!” I snap, getting tired of feeling like I’m being interrogated. “Isn’t that a good enough reason? Why do I need an excuse?”

“I’m just trying to understand why you wouldn’t want something that so much of the population wants,” she says.

“I don’t know how you could work here for almost five months and think that bringing a child into the world is a good idea,” I counter. “Have you been paying attention to the terrible things people do? People are horrible. Do you remember Jasmine? She wasn’t even old enough to drive, but she was selling herself on the street and killed by the PVP Killer. The world is a violent, vile place that isn’t—”

“Do you really not see the good that people do?” she asks. “Do you not see how we try to do good for society?”

“I see that we’re always arriving to find dead people,” I say. “We’re always arriving at the crime too late.”

She slams her fist against the counter and two tears fall down her face. Before I can grab her, she spins around and exits the kitchen from the opposite side that we entered. A few seconds later, I hear the front door slam shut.

The door leading to the dining room jerks open and Peter steps through. He tilts his head.

“Sorry, but, uh…I heard everything,” he says. He indicates to his right ear. “Better hearing without my sight and…well…you two weren’t exactly being quiet.”

I throw up my hands. “I don’t know. I don’t understand her. I don’t understand most women. How can she accuse me of withholding information when she didn’t tell me what she wanted, either?”

Peter’s hands touch around the door handle a few seconds—figuring out where it is—before he slides the door shut.

“You shouldn’t have said that in front of our grandmother without conferring with Lauren first,” he says. “That’s probably a big reason that she’s upset. You made a decision—a very big one—in front of her family without even thinking to ask for her opinion.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to! I assumed we had the same future plans,” I say.

“You know, they say if you want to make God laugh, just tell him your plans.”

“If there is a God, He laughs at me all of the time. I don’t need to tell Him any of my plans. My life is a joke all on its own.”

He smirks. “Do you love Lauren?”

“Absolutely,” I say.

“Then, make it work,” he says.

“She seemed pretty mad at me,” I say. “I’m surprised I haven’t heard my car’s engine yet as she drives away.”

“She’s not like that,” he says. “I don’t know my half-sister well, but from the times I have talked to her…she’s loyal. But she also won’t let herself be taken advantage of. She demands respect. And that’s all she wanted in this situation.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I hate when everyone around me starts making sense.”

He laughs. “I’ll go talk to her and see if there’s a way I can convince her to not drive off without you.”

As he walks away, his cane snaps against the floor. I should go back into the dining room and keep Lauren’s grandmother entertained—it is her birthday and, if we’re being honest here, she doesn’t have that many left—but I have this pain in my stomach that I can’t shake off. I used to imagine having a son and a daughter—the two of them playing on a tire swing in the front yard, teaching them their different colors or how to ride a bicycle…two children that I could pour all of my love into. But it’s not going to happen and I’m not going to waste my time pretending that it’s going to be—or give anyone false hope.

Minutes tick by and Peter and Lauren still haven’t returned. That can’t be good. A nervous energy ricochets through my body. I have to go check that she’s not still angry at me. I never think through to what the consequences of what my words could be, but now I realize I could lose my girlfriend and my partner.

This is why they tell you to not date your co-workers.

I rush out the door. I nearly knock over Peter, but manage to grab him before he falls onto the pebble walkway. I pull him back onto his feet.

“Sorry about that,” I mutter.

“It’s fine.” He taps his cane on the stones. “I once got knocked over by a four year old excited about donuts, so not much else can surprise me.”

I wince. “Sorry.”

I turn back to Lauren.

“And I’m sorry that I made a decision concerning our relationship without talking to you about it,” I say. “I should have said what you said…about how we hadn’t talked about it. I wasn’t thinking. Or…really…I was just thinking about myself. And I’m sorry about that.”

She lunges forward, wrapping her arms around me. Her lips brush against my cheek.

“I’m sorry too,” she murmurs. “It’s true that we never talked about children and I shouldn’t have assumed anything about our relationship.”

Peter claps his hands together. “That’s great. Everyone’s happy again. Let’s go back into the dining room and eat because I’m fairly certain that Grandma is back to thinking about how awful this generation is since we all abandoned her.”

“Right,” Lauren says. She lets go of me and steps back. “We are terrible grandchildren.”

“Yeah, we are. We should skip straight to cake now,” Peter says.

“You just want cake, don’t you?”

“It’s chocolate,” he snorts. “Who am I to deny the gifts God gave us?”

Lauren grabs my hand as I turn to walk into the house. She kisses me with such sincerity and love that I’m glad that no one else can see it.

T
here is
this story in the Bible that people seem to forget over the more well-known ones. In this story that Jesus tells, the sheep are placed to His right while the goats are placed on His left side. He rewards the sheep with Heaven since they took care of Him when He was hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, sick, and imprisoned. The goats ask Him when he was hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, sick, or in prison and they didn’t help Him. He tells them that every time they didn’t care for another human who was suffering, they weren’t caring for Him. They are banished to Hell.

This story is meant to tell us to take care of each other and it’s a message I still carry with me today, but as a child I was more worried about being turned into a goat. And that’s what I love about kids: while an adult may worry about their morality or spend an indefinite amount of time defending how moral they are despite their actions, a child’s concerns are so much simpler.

Like becoming a goat. There’s no religion, politics, moral quandaries, or consequences to worry about when your concerns are about turning into a goat.

I wake up beside Tobias in his apartment, on his twin size mattress that forces the two of us to sleep as close to each other as possible. His apartment has always only had the bare necessities in it. He makes minimalist spaces look like they’re not even trying.

I glance at the clock. 5:42. We have three more minutes to sleep if we’re both going to have time to shower.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stretch. Now that so many questions have been brought up about my relationship with Tobias—marriage and children—I can’t help but think about them. Tobias had already mentioned moving in together and I just can’t imagine how our two styles could mesh. I’m sure he would say he was fine living the way I do—chaotic and filled with random items that I happened to think were cute or intriguing—but how could he go from living in an apartment with nothing in it to a house that’s filled with decorations? It would be a culture shock for him. It would feel just as uncomfortable for me to move into a place as barren as his apartment. I’d like to think I could handle it for the sake of our relationship, but it’s a commitment that I’m not sure I’m ready for.

Tobias’s phone vibrates. His hand shoots out from under his sheets and he grabs it. The screen lights up his face as he looks at it. A second later, he groans.

“There’s another body,” he says. “On a cross. On the shore of Lake Erie. It hasn’t been that long since the last murder. Why do these people have to believe the apocalypse is coming? Even God rested at one point.”

“He rested on Sunday and it’s Monday,” I say. “You used up your Sunday being with my family.”

“Yeah, but I’m not an all-powerful God, so I should get a few more days off,” he mumbles, shoving his face into his pillow.

“Tobias…”

“I know, I know,” he says, sitting up. “Gotta get going before people ruin the crime scene. I have to be a responsible adult and get out of bed and do all these responsible adult things. I got it.”

“No…” I say. “I was going to ask if we should talk about our future.”

“Yes, our future where we’re both at a crime scene and we find some amazing hint that leads us to two serial killers,” he says. “That was a great talk. Do you want to take a shower first or should I?”

I stare at him. “Really?”

“Right. You should go first. You’re the guest here.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “We had also planned to question Glenn’s ex-girlfriend today, didn’t we? That’s all of the way in Indianapolis, though. I’m not sure if we’ll be able to do it while also checking out this murder.”

“I’ll go question the ex-girlfriend,” I tell him, pulling on my clothes. “And you can go check out the murder. Voila. Problem solved. And I’ll go shower at my apartment because you don’t own conditioner. So, I’ll see you sometime later.”

“Wait, Lauren, you don’t think we should wait to talk to the ex-girlfriend together? You don’t want to see the new victim?”

“I’ll see the crime scene photos,” I say. “And you’ll have my notes. Don’t worry about it. You should be happy. We’re saving the taxpayers’ money by dividing our duties. I gotta go. I don’t want to be driving to Indianapolis during a morning rush and back on a lunch rush. I’ll call you when I can.”

I grab my bag off the floor and slide on my pumps. I can feel his eyes on me, but he doesn’t say anything. As I walk out, I feel a mixture of pride and shame. I should have forced him to talk about our future, but I also don’t want to be the nagging girlfriend who doesn’t get the hint when her boyfriend avoids a conversation. The problem is that I want two things—Tobias and children—but I can only have one.

And I know in my heart that every advice column in the world would tell me to give up Tobias because I could find another man who wants the same things I want. But I also know that knowledge and emotions are in constant battle and, my God, I am in love with that man.

T
he victim is another male
, in his mid to late twenties. He has a lean build with sandy blond hair and he looks like he’s in worse shape than Glenn Erwin was. Not only does he have the whip marks on his back, there are eight or nine slashes across his chest, one that hit across his throat. Then, of course, there are the missing parts of flesh, mostly from the lower half of his body, but there’s skin missing along his arms—specifically near the nails in his wrists—as well.

“What have you figured out?” I ask Annette. She’s taking notes on the body as the CSI unit tries to find fingerprints, boot prints, and any other evidence.

“Well…some of this wasn’t done by the killer.” She indicates to the missing flesh near his ankles. “Some animals decided he might be a nice feast. The guy that found the body said that there were four wolves nearby when he came around. Lucky that the guy was turkey hunting, so he shot at them to scare them away and called the police.”

I shake my head. “This just seems weird. It’s only been a few days since the last murder. Why is he killing again so soon?”

She shrugs. “Maybe he’s getting bored considering the police haven’t caught him?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. There is another theory. Mary Fitzgerald indicated that there would be more than two serial killers, and Lauren thinks there could be three—”

“Where’s Lauren?” Annette asks. “Usually you two are connected at the hip.”

“She’s driving to Indianapolis to question Glenn Erwin’s wife,” I tell her. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that there could still be two serial killers running around—they would be The Father and The Son. It could be that Glenn’s murder was committed by one of them and this murder was by the other one.”

“That doesn’t seem very organized for a serial killer,” she says. “Though I’ve never heard of serial killers working together. Mary wouldn’t tell you any names?”

“No,” I say. “She’s too committed. I may as well be asking her to be Judas while the other killers are Jesus. Or at least one of them is Jesus.”

“Well, there are two more interesting things I’ve found,” she says. “More interesting than the fact that we haven’t killed all of the gray wolves in Michigan.”

“That is good to know,” I say. “And they’re getting a good diet of murder victims. We may get a new species of zombie wolf.”

“Well, they didn’t eat his brains, so I don’t think that’s going to happen,” she says. She points to his chest. “But there is a mark here that was not made by the wolves or the whip.”

I take a step closer, plugging my nose because the stench of this body is worse than the one we found at the baseball field.

“What is that…a V?” I ask. It’s an indent in the right side of the man’s chest. It looks mostly like a V, but it’s also starting to curve, so I don’t think that whatever was pressed into his skin was completely imprinted.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re the detective. It could be completely unimportant, or it could be connected to the killer somehow.”

“Could the killer have left it there on purpose?” I ask. “Is it some kind of message?”

“No, I think the mark would be more defined if it were left on purpose and it’s more likely it would have been done post-mortem, but from the amount of bruising around it, the mark was made while this guy was still alive.”

“What’s the other thing you found?” I ask.

She indicates for me to follow her to the back of the cross. I expect to find the same eye that had been on Glenn Erwin’s cross, but instead, there’s an envelope with my name written on it nailed to the back. Without a word, she hands me a pair of plastic gloves. I pull the envelope off the cross and flip it open. Inside is a photograph. I pull it out. The photo shows Lauren and me stepping out of my apartment. It had to be taken awhile ago because the streets are wet and it hasn’t rained in over a week.

“Well, that isn’t good.”