Nothing Sacred (FBI Agent Dan Hammer Series Book 1) (5 page)

Men. Don’t you just love ‘em? All that chivalry and testosterone!

The telephone at the precinct rang about a thousand times. “Police Precinct, Sergeant David Krunster. May I be of some assistance to you?”

“Donny Mateo, please.”

“May I ask who is calling?”

Janice heehawed around for a second. The last thing she wanted was Mr. Charm School to know she was a reporter. “Janine, his wife.”

“One moment, please.”

The line went mute as she watched Jake sleep. He lay at her feet, his long, gray body curled up around her. Damn, he
was
beautiful. He must have been having a nightmare. His body twitched every so often. The shredded green dinosaur sat beside him, momentarily retired.

“What’s up?”

That familiar accent interrupted Janice’s terrible thoughts of teasing Jake awake. She was incorrigible.

“Donny, it Janice.”

“No kiddin’! What’s up?”

“Mr. Hospitality didn’t buy into it?”

“Nope. Not for a second. You okay?”

“Fine. I just got a phone call. Actually, an anonymous tip. “Story of a lifetime,” the voice said. You know I’m a sucker for shit like that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“MUSC? How about it? Heard anything?”

Silence.

“Donny?”

“Listen, Janice…”

“What? Tell me.”

She heard Donny cup the phone with the palm of his hand and talk to somebody for a second before returning. “There is something, but it’s kind of hard to talk right now.”

“People hanging around?”

“You got it.”

His voice became muffled, almost a whisper. “A girl was found tonight. Out on Old Towne Road…”

“Donny, I can’t hear you. Speak up.” She made a mental note to get her hearing checked. Use her medical insurance for something other than pap smears and mammograms.

“On Old Towne Road. They found a girl. A young girl…” He said it again, this time louder.

“Is she dead?”

“This can’t get out. I mean it. Not yet, anyway.”

“Donny…” She was yelling at this point. “… is she dead?”

“Janny, my ass will be grass if this gets out. You hear me?”

“Don’t worry about it.” She hated it when he called her “Janny.” Janice was her name, not Janny. Just because his name ended in a “Y,” he felt he could make everybody else’s fit.

“We’re trying to do the right thing, here, Janny. Notify the parents, and all. To be honest, it’s a fuckin’ mess.”

Answer my question. “Did she die?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What else?” She asked.

“There’s a sicko out there. I mean a
real
sicko! The girl was freakin’ mutilated down there, you know, her private parts.”

Janice tried to picture a mutilated girl. Little pieces of flesh scattered around on a hospital gurney like pickup sticks. Gross.

“I can’t talk about it. People are comin’ back into the room. Sorry, babe.”

“That’s alright.”

The line went dead. She stood, frozen, enthralled by the prospect of a story, a career breaking story no less, and, of course, the notion of possible danger always got her wet. Her two most favorite things. A story
and
danger. Okay, one more thing to add to the list. Her three most favorite things.
Lisette
. She would have to include her now too. Definitely.

Jake raised his head from the floor and tilted it to one side in that adorable way only Jake could do.

Janice ended the call and pondered her options. She
was
stubborn. She was terrific at following directions to a point, but don’t overload her circuits. She was tightly coiled and easily set off.
Loose cannon.
Unlike Lisette, Janice liked it when all hell broke loose. Chaos! As a child, she absolutely drove her mother crazy. At sixteen, her therapist informed her mother that if she didn’t get over the compulsion to destroy herself, she probably wouldn’t live to see thirty. Imagine a head doctor, a shrink for God’s sake, saying something like that. Well she had six weeks to go. Any bets?

Janice grabbed her jacket from off the chair and a steno pad. Her constant companion. She even had clothes on for a change. She hated admitting it, but there had been a few times she’d been so eager, so desperate for a story, she’d actually showed up at a crime scene still wearing her pajamas. Early bird gets the worm. No pride. No wonder she got crank calls. The cops probably had a sick bet going on.
Get that female reporter, you know, the one with the big tits. We heard she fucking streaks to the scene.
Almost made her want to laugh. Almost.

Lisette.

Sigh.

She was glad Lisette called. She was relieved to know Lisette was home safely. Securely tucked into her Queen sized bed. Not that Janice would know Lisette had a Queen sized bed. She had never actually been to Lisette’s house, or been alone with her
in
it. She tried imagining it though. All cozy and warm, made up in fall colors, burnt reds and browns, every shade to match Lisette’s hair, her skin. And that smell. She could overdose on that smell. She liked Lisette. More than she cared to admit.

As usual, Jake followed her to the front door, his stubby tail moving like a whirly bird. She leaned down and planted an enormous kiss on his snout. She took in
his
smell. Pure sweet dog. He loved it when she did that. He only hated it when she would leave.

“Jake, maybe we’d be better off if I just loved you. Only you. Keep things simple. Nice and safe. No disappointments, no hurts, no nasty goodbyes. What do ‘ya think?”

Jake wagged his tail. What did he know?

Janice caught herself off guard. She hated when she did that. She realized something significant this evening. An epiphany, maybe. At this age and stage of her life, danger and journalism made her feel infinitely safer than being loved by another human being. Wow! That
was
a terrifying thought.

“Sorry, Jake.” She said as she closed the door behind her. She made another mental note to call around town tomorrow. Get back into therapy. She
was
almost thirty for God’s sake. Maybe it
was
time she allowed herself some emotional healing. Some closeness. Jake whimpered as she locked the door. She hurried down the cobblestone path toward Jeffery Street; an enormous full moon loomed above her, a giant, radiant halo. A large circular slice of Swiss cheese.

Terrifying all right…

In fact, the thought actually broke her heart.

June 15
, 2007

Friday

1:32 AM

5

Dying was inevitable.

A certainty. It was going to happen to all of us one of these days. One way or another. What caused Detective Dan Hammer concern were the different ways in which one
could
die. The arbitrariness of it all. A flip of a coin. A right turn, a wrong move. All part of our inescapable future. All of us prisoners of our own inevitable fate.

There he goes again. Thinking.

Dan was driving toward North Charleston on East Bay Street thinking about Wallace. Again. What else was new? He’d been thinking about Wallace a lot lately. Thinking about his recent death. About Wallace’s family. His wife, June. Their kids, Jason and Eli. Those two teenage boys sure would need their Daddy. More than ever now. It was tough being a teenager these days. Dan kept telling himself to “
get your ass over there, Hammer
.” Check up on ‘em. Make sure they’re doing okay. Wallace would have wanted that. Wallace would have been so disappointed in Dan for
not
being there. Somehow, Dan just couldn’t pull himself around to doing it. Not now, anyway. Not yet. It was hard for Dan. He would see Wallace in those kids. Wallace’s features etched all over their faces. Even the boy’s bodies reminded Dan of Wallace. Tall and lanky. Made for basketball. Dan felt lost without Wallace sitting beside him. Wallace was his partner. His friend.

They tossed a coin that night at the Quick Mart. Standard procedure. All part of their nightly routine. Day old doughnuts and black coffee. Wallace liked half and half with his. And lots of sugar. He drank his coffee so damn sweet. Dan didn’t know how he drank that shit, but he did. Didn’t even flinch. He once told Dan he liked his coffee to look and taste like his wife, June. Cappuccino. After a few years of hearing that, Dan began making a joke of it.
Cappuccino, my ass!
They laughed a lot about Wallace’s coffee habits.

Dan couldn’t even buy a cup of coffee now without thinking about Wallace.

That night, as always, they tossed the quarter.
That
night, Wallace lost the toss. Dan remembered flicking off the beams of the cruiser as they pulled into the Quick Mart parking lot. A few cars were lined up outside the entrance. They parked inconspicuously to the side. Wallace pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and took out a few bills. Dan joked he shouldn’t be taking a trip to Vegas any time soon, because Wallace had lost the bet the last few times. His luck had been wavering on empty. Wallace gave a sneer, exposing big white teeth. He opened the passenger door and sauntered toward the entrance. Halfway there, he turned around and strolled back. Dan lowered the window. “What?”

“How do you like your coffee?” Wallace asked, knowing full well Dan took his coffee black. As black as Wallace.

Dan answered like a smart-ass. “Free!”

Wallace snickered and turned back toward white neon. Dan watched on as he entered and walked down the aisle past the magazine rack to the back of the store where the coffee station was located. Glass brew pots were lined up, tiered on different levels, steam rolling out from the tops. He could imagine Wallace adding all that cream and sugar standing at the little condiment station. Dan knew that store like the back of his hand. He’d been there a thousand times. On the slim chance, he lost the toss.

Dan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He whistled a ditty. He watched a teenage girl in a flimsy tank top exit the store. She hurried down a side street, her tits all loose and floppy. He watched bugs collect in a swarm around the streetlamp. The night was humid. Very humid.

Then, something changed.

Dan wasn’t exactly sure when he realized it, but something was off. He cocked his head to get a better view through the windshield. He wanted to
see
Wallace. There was a need to check on him, but he didn’t know why. Make sure Wallace was okay.
Where the hell was he?

A little too late, a car revved its engine. Not in the parking lot, but on the side street. Lights flashed, a gun fired and before Dan knew it, Wallace was being escorted out of the store, a gun to his head, an arm throttled around his throat. And Wallace wasn’t a small guy. In fact, Wallace was six feet tall and sturdy which made the asshole holding him look like a fucking giant. Dan reached for his pistol and flicked off the safety. The coolness melted in his hand. His eyebrow started twitching, a nervous tick.

No sudden moves, Dan
.

If he opened the door, the inside light would turn on. Dan didn’t want to draw any attention. He watched for a few seconds from the bottom of the passenger window. He inched his way across the vinyl seat to get a better look. A closer shot. The person dragged Wallace halfway down the sidewalk before releasing him.

Now!

Dan made his move. He pounded the passenger door open, held it for cover and rolled out and onto the blacktop. Wallace yelled out, “Stop! Police. Drop your weapon!”

Then, the unexpected happened. Another gunshot. Dan looked up as Wallace took lead in his chest. He watched his fucking partner be shot. The bullet hit with such force, it hurtled Wallace backwards against a dirty white trash can. Empty soda cans rattled across the asphalt.

Did Wallace have his vest on? Did he?

Dan got to his feet and ran toward him. Screaming. No words. No sentences. Just sounds. Distorted, fucking sounds. A car peeled out to the right. Rubber burned as another gunshot split the silence. The bullet whizzed past Dan’s ear. Lucky, he guessed. Dan grabbed Wallace by the shirt and pulled him up to his chest. He started crying. Somebody ran from out of the Quick Mart. Dizzy commotion surrounded them. He yelled for somebody to call for an ambulance. Officer down. 10-53. But Dan knew. He knew they weren’t going to need the EMS.

That night, looking into Wallace’s blank eyes, Dan wanted to kill somebody. That humid summer evening, Dan felt enough rage to last an entire lifetime.

He lost his partner that night. His best friend.

Green light.

Dan accelerated, foot down on the pedal. He’d driven this way home so many times, the car practically steered itself. He passed by the familiar landmarks. The underpass that always reminded him of a concrete spider web, the sprawling tenement shacks that lined the Avenue, a boarded up Church’s Chicken with a huge FOR SALE sign dangling in the cracked window. Soon, he’d pass by the naval shipyard. A big empty hanger of darkness. When the Navy pulled out of Charleston, something changed. The energy of Charleston shifted.

Dan thought too damn much when he was driving.

After Wallace died, the Chief sat him down and gave him a lecture. He explained the symptoms of post-traumatic stress syndrome. The Chief thought it might be a good idea if he took some time, a leave of absence. Take a little vacation. “Some R&R.” Dan passed. He wasn’t much on vacations. Besides, in Dan’s line of work, you risked your life. Every day. Wallace just had a run in with bad luck.

Chief Abrams informed Dan that they were doing a full-out investigation on Wallace’s case. Dan was happy to hear it. He’d like to see those punks put away. For life.

Dan thought about leaving the force after Wallace died. He sure as hell didn’t want Alexandra growing up without a father. It scared him for a few beats. He never thought about mortality much before. When his luck might change. Ask Wallace.

A toss of a coin.

But, he stayed on. Stubborn, he guessed. What else was he going to do? End up like his Daddy. Jobless and broke at fifty. Borrowing twenty bucks from Dan each time he came to visit. Knowing damn well the money would be used to stock the refrigerator full of beer. Wall to wall longneck Budweiser’s. No, thank you. Dan wanted something better than that.

His Daddy finally did die. Alone, of a heart attack. Dan didn’t even go to the funeral. His Mama was upset. He had other commitments. He supposed he should have felt guilty, not paying his respects and all, a good southern boy like him. But, he didn’t. He didn’t feel he owed his Daddy much of anything. He’d said his goodbyes already. A long time ago.

His new family was the force. And Dan’s Daddy was the farthest thing from being a cop. He wasn’t much of a father, either. If a patrol car came within fifty yards, you had better believe his Daddy was headed in the opposite direction. Not that he was a crook or anything, he wasn’t, his Dad just played by a different set of rules. His own. And his Mama and he just sort of went along blindly for the ride. What else were they supposed to do?

It was one of the reason’s Dan joined the force in the first place. He liked the discipline. Rules were meant to be followed. Obeyed. Codes of justice had to be adhered to or consequences were paid. Why would Dan want this? Your guess was as good as his was. He never remembered having any overwhelming urge to be of service to people. As a kid, he never joined the Boy Scouts or the YMCA, or shit like that. He never worked at an old folks home or carted pigs to the state fair for 4-H. He hated group gatherings altogether. A bunch of boys camping out in the woods acting out bad adult behavior. That didn’t sound like a whole lot of fun, particularly when he realized adults weren’t much different… acting out bad childhood behavior. Ironic. So, Dan stayed alone most of the time. A loner. It was easier for him. And, being the only child, he got used to being by himself. Both of his parents were gone most of the day, just putting food on the table, or staying out of each other’s hair. There never seemed to be enough on the table. It was always empty. No seconds. With the police force, Dan belonged. He could finally believe in something.

He thought all that would change when he got married. Boy was Dan wrong! Gina was supposed to make it all worthwhile for him. She was his pretty, strawberry blonde angel he met after high school. Those big, blue green eyes. They’d keep changing each time she’d switch the color of her top. It was the strangest thing. Just the sight of Gina made his legs weak. He’d feel flushed and get all crazy excited. That wonderful sinking feeling. It was an incredible time in his life. Dan had never felt anything like it before Gina. Maybe when Alexandra was born. She was Dan’s little princess. At that time, Dan didn’t think it could get much better. He had the entire package.  The whole enchilada. He had a great job, a new sparkly wife and little Alexandra. He had it all. And he tried like hell to make it work. Be there for them, when he could, that is. The one thing Dan Hammer was, was honorable.

Time passed. The “when he could” started becoming a bit too frequent. That was when things between he and Gina started sliding downhill. He understood. It was the breaks of being a cop. And, later a detective. It soaked up a lot of his time. And, unfortunately, theirs. Dan was young, energetic, on his way up the ladder. He wanted to be a detective more than anything.

He kept his nose clean, did the right thing, paid his dues and eventually Dan was rewarded. A raise. A promotion. Plainclothes detective. The money was shit in the beginning, but he stuck it out. Dan didn’t care so much about the money, just as long as he could take care of Alexandra. If he could do that, his life was sweet.

As sweet as Wallace’s coffee.

Dan saw Alexandra on the weekends. Gina used to live close by. That made it a hell of lot easier. Then when the divorce was finalized, Gina decided to move with the baby to Isle of Palms. About four years ago. Time sure does go fast. Dan didn’t mind the move. It was pretty out there with the beach and the sun.

When Gina and he were first married, they shared a dream. They were going to save enough money to put a down payment on a small bungalow at the beach. Weird how things planned for never seemed to materialize.

Well, with the summer about here, Dan hoped he would get to see more of Alexandra. He loved that precious little angel.

This area of town wasn’t anything special. Like most urban communities, there was an invisible line separating the rich from the poor. Charleston wasn’t any different. Drive a few miles toward the historic Battery section of town and witness southern opulence at its flashiest. All those pastel-colored townhouses lined up along the waterfront. From the harbor, it looked like a rainbow. Some of the front porches of those houses were bigger than Dan’s apartment.