The Trophy Exchange (2 page)

“
The police and an ambulance are on their way. What
’
s your name?
”

“
Charley.
”

“
How old are you, Charley?
”

“
Eight.
”

“
Do you know any of your neighbors?
”

“
Yeah.
”

“
Is there one that is safe? That your mom says is safe?
”

“
Yeah.
”

“
Can you take your little sister and go there, now?
”

“
Uh huh.
”

“
You need to get out of the house right now and go straight to your neighbor
’
s house. O
kay
?
”

Charley dropped the phone on the floor and grabbed one of Ruby
’
s hands off the doorknob to the basement and pulled. Ruby clung tight with the other hand. Charley jerked it loose and dragged her kicking, screaming sister to the front door. She could still hear the sound of the dispatcher
’
s tinny voice coming out of the discarded telephone but could not understand a word she said.

Out on the porch, Ruby went limp. She hung like a dead weight from Charley
’
s hand. Charley hoisted Ruby up on her small hip and hurried down the front steps with her sister in tow. She wanted to do as she was told and escape to a neighbor
’
s house, but she was afraid to leave the yard – afraid to open the gate and step out on to the sidewalk. She coaxed her sister to the side of the porch. Around its base, three-foot-high lattice work covered a storage area for the lawn mower and garden tools.

Ruby
’
s thumb was back in her mouth but even with that obstruction, she was able to rub her dripping nose on her older sister
’
s shoulder. Charley hid her repulsion, stifled her scold and moved to the door in the lattice. She sat Ruby down on the ground. On her knees, she reached inside the under-porch and pushed on the lawn mower frame driving the machine deeper into the speckled darkness. She picked up Ruby again. She stooped over and pushed down on the back of Ruby
’
s head to clear the opening. She pulled the door shut behind them.

Charley sat down in the dirt with Ruby in her arms. She rocked back and forth as much to comfort herself as to quiet her sister. She put her lips up to Ruby
’
s ear and whispered a song,
“
Hush, little Ruby, don
’
t you cry. Charley
’
s gonna buy you an apple pie.
”

While they huddled under the porch, Charley listened for the sounds of sirens. She imagined them several times before their clarion call was clear. Across the neighborhood, faces inside houses peered from windows, those outside turned their ears to the sky. All counted their blessings – except for two little girls in the dark.

Two

As the crime scene truck rumbled its bulk around the corner and on to
Cross Street
, officers scrambled to move the vehicles in front of the house to make room for the over-large van at the curb. An unmarked pulled up to the other side of the street and Homicide Investigator Lieutenant Lucinda Pierce sat in her car pressing down on her growing anxiety. The muted susurrations of blood rushing through her jugular vein roared in her head like a stadium cheer. When she swallowed, the gulp sounded like a sonic boom. She
didn’t
like looking at herself since the shotgun blast
had
ripped across her face
,
but she flipped down the visor anyway. She knew if she could face that sight, she could face anything.

She sighed, slapped the visor back into place and opened the car door. She checked to make sure her cream-colored silk T-shirt was tucked firmly in the waistband of her black pantsuit. Her look was tailored to the point of severity
,
adorned only by a simple gold wristwatch and two small gold studs on her ear lobes. She stretched long legs out onto the road and headed straight for the house flashing her gold badge at the officers in her path. It had been two years since her injury. Her determined approach to rehabilitation was a department legend and the people she worked with had grown accustomed to her face. Their shocked reactions were no longer a source of Lucinda
’
s dread.

Under investigation and off the streets for three months for a shooting incident, this excursion was her first visit to a crime scene since Internal Affairs lifted her probation and allowed her to return to full-time status. She was too self-conscious about her recent professional turmoil to look any of the other cops in the eye.

A couple of the men shouted words of encouragement:
“
Way to go, Loot
”
and
“
Glad to see ya back on the streets
”
.

She just looked straight ahead and did not respond. At 5
’
11" before she slid into her black pumps, looking at the air above the heads of most of the officers was a natural place for her to focus her eye.

She knew she could not screw this one up. She was cleared of wrongdoing in her Excessive Violence hearing but it would all mean nothing if she blew it her first time out of the chute. The apprehension she
’
d felt at her first homicide case years ago was nothing compared to the anxiety she felt now.

Ted met her at the gate and hurried up the sidewalk after her. Even with the long legs of his 6
’
4" frame, he labored to keep pace with her rapid strides, briefing her as she moved toward the basement door. Their footsteps echoed down the rough-cut wooden stairs as they made their way into the cellar. She acknowledged nothing he said but Ted
’
s presence at the scene allowed Lucinda to relax a bit. She trusted him more than anyone else on the force. She
’
d known him for years. The two had dated in high school but when they went off to their separate universities, they drifted apart. They both married after graduation. Lucinda
’
s childless marriage lasted a short two years. The wedding of Ted and his college sweetheart demonstrated more staying power and produced two kids. She felt a brief twinge of regret for what might have been.

Although Lucinda
’
s non-responsiveness would have rattled many other officers, it didn
’
t faze Ted. In addition to their ancient history together, he
’
d worked with Lieutenant Pierce at crime scenes before and he knew she heard, understood and absorbed every word he said. She stopped two feet from the body. Ted jerked to a stop to keep from running into her back.

“
Killed by that concrete block?
”
she asked.

“
Seems so,
”
Ted replied.

“
Is this what the scene looked like when you arrived?
”

“
Except for the leads attached by the
paramedic
s, yes.
”

Lucinda looked at the shirt hanging open around the dangling leads.
“
Completely clothed?
”

“
Yes.
”

“
You didn
’
t move the block?
”

“
No.
”

“
Wh
ere’s
the girl, who called 9-1-1
,” Lucinda asked.

“
We don
’
t know.
”

“
You don
’
t know?
”

“
She
’
s not in the house – neither of the girls are. The 9-1-1 officer told them to go to a neighbor
’
s house. Uniforms are going door-to-door looking for them now.
”

“
Oh, jeez,
”
Lucinda said, shaking her head.
“
Where
’
s the blood?
”

“
There
’
s not much – just a small puddle around her head.
”

“
That
’
s not enough. That
’
s just oozing blood – draining blood. Where
’
s the blood from the blunt trauma? Look. See how close she is to the washer and dryer. That white porcelain should be covered with spatter. Nothing
’
s there. Where
’
s the coroner?
”

“
He
’
s on his way. He was called just moments after the call went into your office.
”

“
She either wasn
’
t killed here or she wasn
’
t killed with that block.
”

“
We didn
’
t find signs of a struggle anywhere else in the house.
”

“
Interesting. How long does it take the damn coroner to get here? Call them again.
”

Ted reached for the key on his radio and stopped at the sound of a familiar voice booming down from the top of the stairs.
“
Don
’
t get your knickers in a wad, Lieutenant. I
’
m here.
”

“Dr.
Sam. About time.
”

“
I
’
m two years from retirement, Lieutenant. Don
’
t move as fast as I used to. Besides, none of my patients are ever in a hurry.
”

Watching his descent, Lucinda laughed. White hair plastered to his head as if he
’
d just stepped out of the shower. White whiskers poked out of his chin – he hadn
’
t taken the time to shave before responding to the scene.
“
O
kay
, Doc. One look at you and I can
’
t complain – you sure didn
’
t stop for a beauty treatment on your way here.
”

He rubbed a hand across his chin.
“
Damn. Forgot to shave again.
”
He kneeled down by the woman on the floor.
“
Where
’
s all the blood?
”

“
My question exactly, Doc. Any ideas?
”

“
I
’
d guess that block smashed into her face after she was already dead.
”
He put a finger under the remains of her chin and raised it up.
“
Look,
”
he said pointing to her throat. A red line stretched across swollen, irritated skin.
“
Ligature mark.
”

“
Interesting. Did she die of strangulation?
”
Lucinda asked.

“
Maybe. Maybe not. I
’
ll know after I
’
ve done the autopsy.
”
He pushed himself off the floor, grunting with effort. Lucinda offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. He winced as he rose.

“
Did I pull too hard?
”
she asked.

“
No. It wasn
’
t you. My knees just don
’
t like concrete floors any more. Yours won
’
t either in a few short years. It
’
s all yours, Lieutenant. Move the body when you
’
re ready.
”

“
When will you do the autopsy?
”

“
First thing in the morning.
”

“
Not tonight?
”

He glared at her.
“
8 a.m. tomorrow morning, Lieutenant.
”

Lucinda
’
s lips parted forming a protest.

“
No, Lieutenant,
”
Dr.
Sam said before she could speak
,
“t
omorrow morning. I
’
m too old to stay up all night. She ain
’
t going anywhere.
”
He shambled up the stairs mumbling about the demands of the young and of the dead.