The warm morning day has quickly transformed into a cool, crisp evening. The sergeant zips up her jacket as she walks across the dark parking lot. Shivering, her detectives follow suit.
"This way, sergeant, the rookie says, motioning them along.
Stepping over a pile of litter, she works her way towards the back to find two men lying side by side on the pavement. A large puddle of blood encircling their thin, tattooed bodies. Stepping closer she sees a puncture wound in the center of their forehead. Execution style, the same as our last victim, Rachel thinks. "Who called it in?"
"No one, Sergeant. I found them lying here while patrolling my beat."
That figures, she thinks, glaring at the growing crowd. "Were you able to ID them?"
"Their names are Paul Morton and Richard Davis. Both have a criminal history a mile long going back to when they were juveniles."
They are two men Jeff was talking about, Rachel thinks, recalling the conversation in her mind. "Are there any cameras in the area?"
He points to the top of a pole and says, "There's plenty, the thing is none of them have worked in years. According to the manager, there's been an argument between the property owners and the city about who's responsible for them."
"I suppose no one saw or heard anything?"
"No, sergeant." He points to the crowd then adds, "Everyone I talked to said they're glad they're dead. A few say they'd wished they'd done it themself and others say that they were surprised they lived as long as they had."
"Why is that?"
I guess they started hitting on preteen girls using a lot of sexual innuendos, racial slurs. By the sound of it the two were chased off a lot. The property manager said they had a restraining order on both but it didn't do any good." He points to one of the victims and says. "Davis here had a brush with death a few weeks back."
"What happened?"
"He decided to flash his penis in front of a group of girls. One of the child's mothers came out of her apartment with a butcher knife in hand, threatening to cut it off. Probably would've too if the manager hadn't stepped in."
" I need to speak to her."
"She's in the hospital, been there for weeks, pneumonia they say."
"I still need to talk to her, see if she orchestrated this whole thing."
"Her name is Mary Allen, she's in room four twelve."
Rachel turns to her detectives and says, "You two need to talk to informants, see if they can get one of them to talk." Glancing at the crowd, she rolls her eyes and adds, "Since they clearly don't care for us. Kirk, Jeff see if you can find any working cameras in the surrounding area."
***
A mix of joyful and challenging memories surface as Rachel steps into the hospital. She enjoyed caring for her patients, well most of them anyway. There's always a few rotten apples in the bunch. With the nursing shortage the way it is, they were always overworked and understaffed, often working months at a time without a day off.
She was returning home from her fifth twelve hour shift to find her cousin Emma being loaded into a squad car. Knowing she didn't have anything to do with the attempt on her father's life, Rachel did a little policing and solved the Widow Maker case. That was the beginning of her new career.
Rachel steps into the room to find a thin middle aged woman lying quietly in her bed. An oxygen mask on her face and IV in her left arm and a blood pressure cuff on her right.
"May I help you?" The respiratory therapist asks.
"I'm Sergeant Bower with the Berryville PD."
"My Penny." The woman wheezes. Jerking off her mask, she sits up in bed. "What happened to my girl?" she cries, tears streaming down her cheek. The light in her once bright hazel eyes is noticeably dimming. Dark circles take up residence on her pale, wrinkled face.
The poor woman has had a very hard life, Rachel thinks. "Penny is fine Mrs. Allen."
The therapist replaces the mask, turns and asks, "So what is this about exactly?"
"There was a double homicide at her apartment building and I'd like to ask her a few questions pertaining to the case."
"She's been here for nearly two weeks. So I don't see how she can help."
"I heard you had words with one of the victims, Richard Davis."
The woman shrugs, "I don't recognize the name."
Rachel pulls up his picture on her phone and shows her.
The woman's eyes go wide. Pulling off her mask she says, "He tried to rape my little girl."
"You threatened him with a knife, correct?"
"Only to scare him away." After a brief bit of coughing she adds. "I'm sure any mother would've done the same."
"I assure you, sergeant, she had no part in what happened tonight." She points to the landline and says, "The phone is out of her reach, and she doesn't have a cell. Besides she's to out of breath to talk to anyone for long."
"Someone could've visited."
"Did you not see the sign?" The woman points to the door and says, "She's in isolation. Has been since she first arrived." The woman replaces Mary's mask.
Pulling it away Mary says, "I'm glad that pervert is dead and sure a lot of others are too."
Heading to her cruiser, Rachel searches her pockets for her phone. She wanted to check in and to give Joe an update on what she's found out. She reaches into her jacket to find it wasn't there. Maybe I left it in the car. She's looking around when a thought suddenly occurs to her. I don't remember grabbing it from my desk. I'll swing by on my way home.
***
Finished cleaning the station, Tony carefully slips down to the cold dark basement. Weaving his way around stacks of old case files, he opens the fuse box and begins flipping switches. This will be a perfect diversion, he thinks, hitting a few more.
Hearing a collective Hey above him, Tony dashes up the steps. He figures he only has a few seconds to clear the stairwell before the desk sergeant heads down. The stupid idiot thinks it's the printer causing it. Tony chuckles to himself, recalling Henson ranting to the captain as he slipped the first letter onto the man's desk. I timed that one perfectly. He chuckles again. Then again, I've been fooling them for years so why should it surprise me now. Taking the letter from his pocket, he carefully slips it under a stack of papers. Taking a quick look around, he bolts down the hall.
Rachel pulls up to the station to find the streetlights illuminating the dark one-story precinct. A power outage again? She waits for the generator to kick on but the building remains black. That's odd. Horrid scenarios suddenly race through her mind. Pulling out her gun, she carefully eases her way up the steps to find the door standing open. With her weapon in front of her, she steps inside to find a tall burly man running towards her. "Freeze police," she says, cocking her gun.
Lifting his arms the man nervously explains. "It's me , Jeff, sergeant. I was working on my report when the lights went out. So I thought I'd grab a bite then finish up."
Lowering her gun, the sergeant asks, "Do you know why the power is out?"
"I overheard Hanson yelling at a rookie about using the printer."
"I thought someone fixed that today."
"The company said it's outdated and needs to be replaced."
"Like everything else in this building," Rachel thinks, glancing around her historical surroundings. She turns to her detective and says, "Why don't you finish up tomorrow."
"I don't mind staying over, really sergeant."
"No, go home, get some rest."
"If you're sure."
"It's been a long day. Besides, you look worse than I feel."
He chuckles. "See you in the morning." Jeff reaches the door, turns and says, "I'm glad you're back, sergeant."
"It's nice to be back." She smiles, glancing around again.