Chapter 8 #2
Unaffected by my rage-filled rant, he says, “You let me know if you change your mind. Like I said, at the end of the day, it all comes down to family. You don’t want this job to rob you of a full life. And if you continue down this path, that’s exactly what will happen.”
“Hey, did you know if you make your lips touch, you can shut the fuck up? Give it a try.”
As soon as he parks, I bolt from the car and pound swiftly to the front porch. Although I’d love to get a few minutes to myself, we’ve got a case to solve. Fortunately, Andrews is old and out of shape, which gives me thirty seconds of peace before he finally joins me.
He hovers his finger over the doorbell. “Are you ready to take the lead on this one?”
The case is a string of violent home invasions in Florida, Mississippi, and Louisiana—all following the same MO.
It was handed to the FBI to solve since it crosses state lines.
Our task force split up this morning, each of us heading out to investigate the various crime scenes and interview the witnesses.
Andrews and I were lucky enough to get a local case here in Tampa.
“If you were really concerned about whether I was ready, we could have been talking about it in the car instead of the nonsense you were rambling on about over the last five miles.”
He glares at me over the top of his sunglasses. “Answer the question, hotshot.”
“Unlike you, I’m focused on my job and have been all day.”
Not responding to my jab, he presses the bell. “It’s all yours, kid. I’ll only jump in as needed.”
Thank fuck.
While waiting, I study the front of the house, noting no signs of forced entry. No visible security cameras either.
A middle-aged woman cracks open the door, leaving the chain in place. She speaks through the narrow opening. “Can I help you?”
I paste on a congenial smile to ease her visible apprehension. “Afternoon, ma’am. I’m Special Agent Reed Hayes, and this is Special Agent Warren Andrews. We’re with the FBI.” We flash our badges. “Are you Janet Ross?”
“Yes.”
“We’re taking over the investigation from the sheriff’s office. Mind if we come inside to ask you a few questions?”
She unlocks the chain and ushers us in. “The detective told me you might stop by.”
Once inside the residence, I assess the space. Bullet holes in the living room wall stand out.
Wringing her hands, she faces us timidly. “Would you like something to drink?”
After we decline her offer, the three of us sit at the kitchen table. True to his word, Andrews lets me guide the interaction.
I pull out the case folder and my notepad. “We know you’ve already been through your story with the sheriff’s office, but we like to conduct our own interview. Sorry for making you relive it again.”
Mrs. Ross puts on a brave face, tipping it upward in a show of strength. “I’m willing to do anything that might help you catch those monsters so they don’t hurt anyone else.”
With my pen poised near the top of a blank notebook page, I meet her eyes. “Start at the beginning and walk us through what happened that day. Anything you can remember.”
“It was like every other morning. I put my granddaughter on the school bus around seven fifteen. When I returned, I went into the kitchen to refill my coffee.” She pauses to visibly swallow.
I take the opportunity to interject for clarity. “You were home alone, correct?”
“Yes. Dana was at work.”
“And Dana is who?”
“My daughter.”
“And did you lock the door behind you?”
She shakes her head, obviously regretting her actions. “No. I was going to be leaving for yoga class shortly, so I didn’t bother.”
“Understood.” I nod, encouraging her to continue with the story. “So you got some coffee and then what?”
“When I left the kitchen, I noticed the front door was partially open. I assumed I didn’t close it all the way, so I walked over to secure it. That’s when I saw him.”
“Where was he standing?” I ask, gesturing toward the foyer.
Her eyes slam shut, and shudders run through her, making her upper body tremble.
“Take your time,” Andrews soothes. “We know this is difficult.”
Once she’s ready, she affixes her gaze on a spot over my left shoulder. “Right there in the hallway. He was a huge, hulking man. Considering the ski mask, gloves, and dark clothes covering his entire body, I knew he wasn’t here for anything good.”
She doesn’t continue, seemingly lost in her thoughts. Likely a trauma response.
I gently prod her. “And then what happened?”
“I was startled and jumped back. Spilled my coffee.”
Her voice pitches higher, and her words come faster with her spiking emotions. “And he just stood there, staring at me. So cold. No life in his eyes. Terrified, I ran in the other direction. But then I slammed into her.”
“A female was with him?”
“Yes.”
“Was she dressed similarly?”
“Identical.”
I scribble a reminder on my notepad to circle back to the clothing before we go. “What happened when you collided with her?”
“She had a totally different vibe than him. She seemed much kinder, even grabbing my shoulders gently to steady me. The mask had a mouth hole, and she smiled at me. Not a sneer or smirk. An honest smile I found oddly comforting. I’ll never forget it.
Plus, her tone was soft and friendly. Although her grammar made her seem somewhat uneducated, she genuinely seemed kind. It was baffling.”
“What did she say?” Andrews asks, unable to resist sating his curiosity.
Mrs. Ross’s eyes narrow into thin slits. “I don’t remember her exact words, but they were all reassuring. Making it seem as if nothing was wrong. Looking back, I wonder if that was her role in their little Bonnie and Clyde duo. Keep me calm while he did his thing. Whatever that was.”
Despite my frustration with her glacial pace, I let her take all the time she needs.
Considering patience isn’t my forte, this is the worst part of an investigation for me. Over the years, I’ve honed the necessary skill. Not only do the victims deserve to be heard, but sometimes there’s gold in their ramblings.
I still fucking hate it, though.
“Anyhow, her demeanor did the trick initially. I stood there like a statue. Didn’t even scream.
” Her nostrils flare with a deep inhale.
“That changed, though. He pressed himself flush against me from behind. Not sexually. It was dominant. It snapped me out of the paralysis, and I shoved her out of my way and tried to run. But he trapped me in a bear hug. He was so big and strong, and I couldn’t… ” Her voice cracks.
I exchange a look with Andrews while she fights to hold back her tears.
“He threw me onto the floor, face down, and I banged my knees and elbows.” She points to a spot in the middle of the living room.
“Then she climbed onto my back and grabbed my arms while he went for my ankles to tie them. I kicked backward and heard him grunt from the blow. The bookcase clattered over, and he was cussing up a storm.”
“Hell of a kick you must have landed,” I muse.
She lowers her head and shrugs. “It was adrenaline and luck. I was fighting for my life and most likely got him in the family jewels.”
Andrews gives her a sympathetic pat on her forearm and a warm smile. “You did good.”
“I almost got free, but I couldn’t shake the woman off my back.
She wrapped her arm around my neck to choke me.
I scratched and tugged at her arms to no avail.
Then he came and took over choking me. And he was so strong.
There was nothing I could’ve done to fight him off.
Believe me, I tried until I couldn’t. I thought I was going to die. ”
Her voice trails off, melting into whimpers and quiet sobs. My eyes catch on the fading bruises around her neck, which back up her story.
I shift back in my seat and skim the case file. I have follow-up questions, but given her current emotional state, they’ll need to wait.
Andrews passes her the box of tissues from the coffee table. Thankfully, he’s here to handle the touchy-feely shit. As I study their interaction, my clenched jaw softens. I should probably try some of that comforting shit.
Another day.
For now, it’s taking all I’ve got to not growl at her to get her shit together. Of course, I’d never let any of that show. She’s been through trauma, and this is hard for her. I’m not a total asshole. I only play one on TV.
Once she regains her composure, I resume questioning. “Right, so he was choking you, and then what happened?”
“Everything went black. I guess I passed out, and when I woke up, I didn’t know how much time had passed. My wrists and ankles were bound, and my mouth was taped.”
“That must have been terrifying,” I offer, trying to emulate my partner. “What happened next?”
“Initially, they didn’t realize I’d awakened. I heard them giggling in the kitchen, and believe it or not, I think they were kissing. Not a lot. Just a few quick ones in between breaking things. They were ransacking the house.”
Bonnie and Clyde reference makes more sense now.
Her word choice stands out, causing me to suspect the perps might have a connection to the victim, rather than this being a random act.
I poke around there a bit. “You said ransacking, which typically happens when a suspect is trying to locate something quickly. Yet the police report says nothing was stolen. Any idea what they were hunting?”
“They weren’t searching for anything. They reminded me of kids throwing a tantrum.
Smashing things for the hell of it. No rhyme or reason.
Didn’t examine anything they destroyed or look in cabinets or whatnot.
” She shrugs, then calmly resumes her retelling.
“They eventually saw I was awake. The male knelt by my head and pulled my hair to force me to look at him as he threatened me. It’ll haunt me forever. ”