Chapter 9 Alaric
CHAPTER NINE
ALARIC
“By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.”- William Shakespeare, Macbeth
My phone rings, causing me to jump upright in bed and pulling my pistol out from under my pillow.
With a pounding heart, I scan the room for any sudden movements.
My phone rings again, breaking me from my moment of freakout.
Looking at the clock, the red glowing lights confirm that it’s indeed not time to get up yet.
Who the fuck calls this early? I’m running on two hours of sleep since apparently I lost track of time while FaceTiming Celeste before she got on her flight home.
“This better be an emergency, Monroe. It’s three in the damn morning,” I answer the annoying phone with a grunt.
“You need to get downtown now. A body was dumped in Times Square. I grabbed you a Red Bull. Next time, answer your phone the first time I call,” Monroe responds annoyed before hanging up.
Now fully awake, I jump out of bed and hurry to get dressed in record time. The exhaustion passed as my heart accelerated to see what we were going to find. Something tells me it’s the woman we watched die in the live feed from The Jawbreaker.
Racing through the empty streets, I pull to a stop, parking close to the caution tape.
Opening the car door, I step out to Monroe walking up, handing me the much-needed Red Bull.
Taking the can, I crack it open and chug it down.
I can feel the bubbles down my throat threatening me to slow down but I don’t, knowing damn well I need the energy right away.
“Slow down there, you don’t want to hurl that up.” Monroe takes the empty can from my hand and disposes of it.
“Yeah, well, two hours of sleep is a bitch and I need a quick boost.” I walk ahead towards the caution tape.
Stepping under the caution tape, a crime scene photographer snaps photos of the body in the middle of the road. We flash our badges at the officer standing nearby and he hands us each a pair of gloves. There’s no blood surrounding the body and it appears the body has been dead for some time.
“What do you have for us?” I ask the photographer while squatting next to the body.
Her body looks cold and her face is almost a gray pigment from lack of oxygen. Jesus, what did he do to you?
“Female, appears to be in her mid-twenties. Rope burns around the hands and feet as if she was tied up. Skin melted from some sort of substance, we will know more once we bring her in for examination. She has the word whore carved in her abdomen and a jawbreaker down her throat,” the photographer responds as he continues taking more pictures.
We review the body once over, confirming it’s the same girl we’ve been looking for.
She’s young. She didn’t get to live out her life just because she worked at a strip club.
I don’t understand why their place of work defines who they are as a person.
Nothing around her body gives any clues how she was brought here, but I do spot a camera at a shop near the crime scene.
Making a mental note, I’ll need to have Beckett check it out.
“We didn’t get her in time. He placed her body here to humiliate her even though she’s dead.
Wanting her to be found as well as a warning that he’s not done.
Her nails appear to have stuff underneath them.
Let’s see if we can get any DNA from them in case she fought him and scratched him,” I address an officer nearby who nods in response.
Turning my body away from the diseased, I rub my temple as frustration festers. Yet again, another failure, reminding me this isn’t the battlefield anymore, but a new unpredictable mission.
“There was no way we could have found her in time. We weren’t able to get any hits on his location. But what we can do is head over to the old church again. My hunch says that the pastor knows more than he’s giving us. You’re driving.” Monroe walks ahead to the passenger side of my door.
We arrive at the old church at about six in the morning. Maybe we should have waited until decent hours as I highly doubt anyone will be up at this hour. Low and behold, the pastor steps out from the chapel as if he was waiting for our arrival. We park the car and walk up to meet him.
“Officers, do you know what time it is? What calls for this early visit?” The pastor crosses his hands, stopping in front of us giving us a stern look.
“We have a few questions about one of the people who attends your church, Oliver Stetson.” I get straight to the point.
“Did he get into some trouble? He’s a good man, a little misunderstood but a good man.” His face morphs into concern.
His body shifts uncomfortably. I make note of it and store it in the back of my head. There’s more he knows but it seems he would die on a hill before giving it to us.
“We cannot give any details about the case but his name came across our desk and we noticed that he attends your church.”
“Why, because the poor boy has schizophrenia? You know, the Lord does not judge those with illnesses, so you shall not judge him either. He’s peaceful. I suggest you find someone else to question.” His demeanor changes, which brings up more red flags.
Ah, so protective of this newcomer and no doubt going to try to use his condition against us or even file a complaint so we can’t look into him any further.
“We never indicated that he did anything wrong, we’re just wanting to learn about someone who arrived here not too long ago.
It appears you two are close and your cooperation would be very helpful.
Let me make things very clear, we don’t judge someone based on their illness.
Who’s to say that we even knew about it?
” I fire back a little too aggressively but something about this man just gets under my skin.
I take a moment to reel it back in. The Pastor takes a step back, as if I’m the predator about to attack. Yeah, he’s really not going to give us anything now.
“He’s new to the community but he pulls his weight.
He helps get the church ready for service, helps with harvesting for the community.
He keeps to himself and hardly talks to anyone but myself.
He’s very religious and follows the old Bible texts.
I don’t believe that he’s your guy. He can’t even handle the butchering of the sheep without getting sick.
” He slowly relaxes as he gives us a little bit of information.
It’s as if speaking about this person gives him so much peace and comfortability. Yet, there’s people in this little community who feel differently.
“Does he have a job or live near here? We couldn’t find anything in the records,” Monroe speaks up as she's writing down notes on her notepad.
“Not that I’m aware of. He lives here in the community and earns his keep here in exchange for the cottage he lives in. Ah, speaking of. Oliver, son, come meet these lovely officers.”
A man comes to stand by the pastor's side, standing at five foot ten, with a little hunch in his back. He has greasy brown hair, big circular glasses, dirty work shirt and jeans. He avoids eye contact with us and his hands are fidgeting with some sort of cloth in his hand. His body language appears nervous and like at any second he’ll make a break for it.
“Oliver, they’re here in regards to some sort of case they are working on. You’re not in any kind of trouble, but I would answer any questions they have so they’ll leave you alone.” He places a hand on Oliver’s back trying to reassure him.
He gives a curt nod, glancing up at us from the rim of his glasses. The man has bags under his eyes from lack of sleep and a cross dangles from his neck.
“Mr. Stetson, where were you last night-early morning between the time of eleven and two AM?” I ask while monitoring his body behavior.
His hand shakes with nerves. When he notices that I’m looking down and watching his hands, he claps them together to gain better control of them.
“Uhm, s-sir, I was at m-my home at those times. I-It's fairly early to be up at those kinds of hours. I-I wake up at five to start my morning tasks,” he stutters as he explains his whereabouts.
“Is there anyone who can confirm you were home?” Monroe follows up.
His eyes gravitate to Monroe, seeming to be taken back by her interjection. I don’t miss the look of disgust before his mask slides back on. Not a fan of female authority, I see.
“N-No, ma’am. I-I live alone d-down by the crick. Y-You’re welcome t-to have a l-look around.” He rubs his hands up and down his arms looking toward the direction where I would assume is his cottage.
Before responding, a curtain pulls aside from a nearby house. A woman peaks out to see what's going on. A part of me wonders if it's the one who called us earlier. As Oliver turns to look in her direction, the curtain closes abruptly.
“Not today, thank you, though. I think we have everything we need. Thank you. Sorry to disturb you.” I nod, turning my back, heading toward my car.
We sit in silence, taking the information in.
My gut has a lump that’s twisting and turning as I go over the body language and everything that was presented to us.
Something doesn’t seem right and my gut is never wrong.
We don’t have a search warrant at this time so we can’t just go barging in looking for something to bring this guy in.
Even though we had his permission to look around, something tells me that they’re the type of people to go back on their word and report us to stop us from further investigating.
Monroe has to be thinking the same thing; she’s also unnaturally quiet.
We head to our desks deep into thought, sitting at our desks staring at the blank screen of our computers.
For one, I’m stuck and hoping we get something back from the autopsy to help us out.
That will take a couple days for the report to come back, even with a rush on it.
My phone chimes, breaking me out of my trance.
Celeste: I landed home safely. Are we still good for tonight?
Me: I’m glad you’re home safe. Yes, we most definitely are. Seeing your beautiful face will be the highlight of my day. I need it.
Just thinking about her makes my heart beat fast. I feel like my feelings are at hyper speed for the short amount of time we’ve known each other but something about her drives me crazy.
She’s the only good thing that’s stepped into my life in a long time and with how dark my job gets, she’s the shining star that glows in the midnight black sky.
Looking down at my phone, her text bubbles up with her responding.
Celeste: Are you okay?
Me: Yeah, just a long day. We can talk tonight.
Celeste: See you at seven :)
Pocketing my phone, the director approaches us, checking to see what we found out.
We briefed him with our conversation as well as our concerns with Oliver.
He agrees that something’s off and now that we have our systems back up and running with a stronger fire wall, he’ll have one of the IT guys dig deeper into him.
“Beckett, before I forget, there’s a camera outside of the shop called Pink House.
Can you see if we can get the footage between the hours of eleven at night and three in the morning?
I’m hoping we can catch who dumped the body.
” I write down the name and time down on a piece of paper and hand it over to him.
“I got you. I’ll also check on the status of the autopsy. Any plans tonight? Maybe we can all go out for a drink. After what was presented to us today, I think we all are owed a stiff adult beverage.” He takes the paper from me, setting it down on his desk.
He gets up from his and leans over the divider. It’s been a while since I’ve been out. He’ll be yet again met with my decline. Just like the last couple of invites. I feel bad, but this time I have plans with a green-eyed goddess.
“Rain check. I have plans tonight and I’m hoping I can stay awake.” I rub my face as the adrenaline and the Red Bull starts to wear off.
The last thing I need is to screw this one up. First, I spill coffee all over her and next, fall asleep while on our date, mid-sentence. I would take the winner spot of the worst possible date.
“Ohhhh, is it this mysterious woman you’ve been texting with heart eyes? Let me join. I want to see what has you all tied up.” He smirks, raising his eyebrows up and down.
“Negative, you’re not coming on the date with me. Her name is Celeste. Can’t have you scaring her off.” I turn away from him, logging into my computer.
“I suggest you head home before you meet her. You smell of dead bodies and dirt. I expect a full report in the morning about this mystery woman of yours,” Monroe pipes in.
Rude and demanding. There’s no way I smell like shit. I wasn’t even around the body long enough to get a stench.
“I do not smell of dead bodies.” I sniff my shirt and quickly push my shirt away. “Okay, maybe I do. Are you jealous over there, Monroe?”
“You’re full of yourself if you think I’m jealous. I’m concerned that you’re already falling for this girl you barely know and this isn’t normal for you, sir.” She gives me a stern look as if she’s my mother.
“So because I find someone who has my attention other than work, it raises concerns? I haven’t had a partner in years due to my line of work and she doesn’t care who I am.” Now I’m annoyed, and a tad bit defensive.
Who are they to say who I can give my attention to and who I decide to date in my spare time?
“No need to get all macho man on us. It’s just out of the ordinary for you. You know nothing about her and you’re falling for her in a week span of time with a few texts and calls. But you do you, boo boo.” She throws her hands up in surrender and heads towards the break room.
I know they have concerns and I know I shouldn’t have gotten snappy with Monroe.
This girl has made me feel things I haven’t felt and takes my breath away when I see her or receive pictures of her.
Nothing about her raises red flags and I’m just going to go with it.
If she breaks my heart, fuck, I don’t know what I’ll do but I can’t think about that now.