Authors: Andrew Hess
Scorned (8 page)
Assistant District Attorney Stacey Reed was known as the Superstar Prosecutor. She was one of the best Ulster County had. We were just happy she fought for our side. She was as cunning and ruthless as a mal practice lawyer, only she had the professionalism and respect for the law that made her refuse to bend or break the rules. So it was a shock to me when I entered her office for the first time and saw the décor contradicted her personality. Pink flowers sat in a multi-colored vase on the windowsill. The office didn’t have any of the typical hardwood floors or dark gray colored rugs that lined the other offices. A.D.A. Reed had a soft beige carpet with specs of peach to give it a pop of color. A fruitful fragrance wafted towards the door which manipulated me into thinking I was on some island.
What the hell? Was this really the office of the star prosecutor for the Ulster County District Attorney’s Office? Was it the office of a ruthless lawyer that defendants feared she would cut off their manhood if they crossed her?
My answer came in the form of a tall thin woman with short blond hair. She sat behind a cherry wood desk with her hands w folded on top of a stack of folders. “Detective Ryan, what can I help you with?”
“I’m investigating the possible homicide of Blake Ambrose.”
Ms. Reed held a hand up to her chest over dramatically. “You mean, someone killed him?” She broke character and cracked a smile. I’m surprised it took someone this long to try.”
Truth be told, I was too. “Do you know anyone that would want him dead?” It was a stupid question, I know.
“Who didn’t want him dead,” Stacey laughed. “That man had more enemies than the President.” She looked at me with concern. “You don’t think I had something to do with it?”
I had yet to compile a list of suspects. But A.D.A. Reed was not someone I thought would come anywhere close to being at the top of that list. “No ma’am.”
Her eyebrows raised in confusion. “Then why are you here?”
She was eying me up suspiciously and I knew it would be better to get right to the point. “I need a warrant to enter Mr. Ambrose’s house. His only next of kin was his secretary and she won’t allow us in without one.” I knew the old lady would give me trouble. Here I thought she would come through to help us find her dear boss’s killer. Instead she was making me jump through hoops.
“What are you looking for?”
“Anything that can help us narrow down our list of suspects.”
“That’s a little vague detective.”
“We don’t have much to go on otherwise. His office and his house have been closed off to us thanks to his secretary. Without them, we have nothing but the clothes the victim washed ashore in, a car that didn’t give us much to work with, and a bar that may or may not have caught Mr. Ambrose leaving with someone.”
“Sounds to me like you have plenty to work with at the moment.” Was she for real? I thought she was supposed to be on our side. I thought she was supposed to work with us to bring down killers, not give someone enough time to destroy any shred of evidence that could lead us to a suspect. “Look, come back when you have something credible, something tangible or at least something specific you’re looking for. Then, I can help you. Otherwise, the judge will laugh in our faces.”
A.D.A. Reed made a move to show me the door. “Thanks, but I can show myself out.” I slammed the door behind. I was being shut down at every pass. At least when I hunted down the man known as the Campus Killer, the only roadblock standing in my way was my Lieutenant and that was because he didn’t want to believe the deaths were homicides. Now we were sure it was a homicide, but was held back by the A.D.A., a secretary and a bar owner.
I dialed Rodney’s cell once I left the building. “Hey partner, where are you?” I could hear in music playing in the background and figured he was at Whiskey J’s.
“I’m following up on our lead from last night.”
“Did you find anything?”
“We’re working on it.”
“We?”
“Yeah, me and Detective Thornton.”
Great the hot shot from last night was back and talking to the leads I should’ve been talking to. “Whatever; let me know when you’re done. You can tell me all about it over lunch.”
“We’re going to be heading out in a few minutes. We can meet in a half hour.” I prayed he didn’t recommend Whiskey J’s.
“Sounds good. You name the place.”
He mumbled something I could barely hear. Then his voice came back loud over the speaker. “We’ll meet you at Fishbone.”
Great; that meant he was bring Mr. Personality with him. I was already having a horrible start to my day. Having lunch with a guy who though he was God’s gift to women was about to put me in a worse mood. But whether I liked it or not, Detective Thornton was a part of this investigation.
I arrived before either of my colleagues. The woman wearing a black t-shirt and slacks stood behind a wooden podium. She grabbed a single menu, presuming I was going to eat lunch alone.
“How many,” she asked anyway.
“Three,” I replied.
The restaurant was mostly empty with the exception of a few employees and a few customers. We walked by several tables with their glossy finish table dressed in a white cloth. I was seated near the bar. The three long shelves of liquor called out to me, tempting me to order just one drink. Believe me, I wanted to. The thought of spending any time with Detective Thornton made me want to down a shot. Being forced to spend an hour or two with him for lunch made me want to down half a bottle.
Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe he just made a bad first impression.
The door to the restaurant opened again. Two large men entered and towered over the host. Rodney scanned the room and smiled as he spotted me. Detective Thornton didn’t notice. He was too busy flirting with the young girl. Rodney took a few steps forward and noticed Thornton wasn’t following him. He stepped back and lightly back handed Thornton’s arm.
Rodney looked surprisingly chipper as he pulled his chair out. He did his best to contain his excitement and kept his voice down to a whisper. “I think we might have a lead on a possible suspect.”
That was great news considering I kept striking out
. I couldn’t suppress the eagerness in my voice. “What’d you find?”
“We confirmed our victim wasn’t drinking alone. He was with some blond woman for most of the night. We have a copy of his bar tab and saw him on video.
“Any idea on who the girl was?”
Thornton kept silent and let Rodney take the lead. “We haven’t identified the woman yet. The copy of the video was sent to both precincts. It’s only a matter of time before we track her down.”
Thornton gave a hearty laugh. “What’s so funny,” I asked.
He ignored me and turned towards Rodney. “Did you notice what our victim did when he walked away from the bar with the two bottles of beer and the shots?” Rodney shook his head from side to side. “Our victim wasn’t so innocent. He added something to one of the shots. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I saw him grab something from his pocket and dripped the contents into the glass.”
“So he tried drugging the girl he was with?”
Again, I was ignored. My blood was boiling. If my first encounter with Thornton was just a bad first impression, the second wasn’t any better.
Detective Thornton kept his attention focused on my partner. “It looked like he tried to drug her, but another woman interrupted their toast. I think she might’ve switched the drinks. Maybe gave our victim a taste of his own medicine.”
That was a new twist to the story. If our victim attempted to drug his lady friend, and the other woman switched the drinks, then Blake Ambrose drugged himself. It would be impossible for him to walk from Whisky J’s to the Mid-Hudson Bridge in that condition.
“Were you able to see if he left with anyone,” I asked.
“Yeah, a brunette,” Rodney replied. “But I didn’t really see her face.”
“That’s because you were focusing on the blond.” Thornton sneered and mocked Rodney, insinuating he was distracted by how hot she was. “We should look over the videos again, but zero in on the brunette instead of our victim.”
For once Detective Thornton was right. Although, there was no way I’d openly admit it. “We’ll have our people look into it.”
Detective Thornton gave a sly smile that told me he already had his team running through the video and was searching for our suspect before we even had a chance to finish lunch.
“So Detective Ryan, how did things go with our victim’s house? Were you able to find anything to help our investigation?”
My cheeks flushed red. Heat was building up inside. I was ready to lash out and put Thornton in his place. “The warrant was denied,” I mumbled.
“What was that,” Thornton mocked with his hand held behind his ear. His mocking tone was pissing me off and was pushing me to my breaking point.
“The warrant was denied. Ambrose put his secretary as next of kin and she didn’t want anyone going into the office or the victim’s house. A.D.A. Reed refused to push for a search warrant without listing something specific to look for.”
Thornton’s devilish grin was spread from ear to ear. He was one up on us and was loving every minute of it. “Sounds like you had a rough day. Maybe I should’ve gone there to help. I do have a way of getting what I want.” His eyes darted quickly to me, staying there for just a moment before switched back to Rodney.
Was this guy for real? He surely thought so. But if he was insinuating he wanted me, then he was in for a rude awakening. “You know what, next time I go there, I’ll be more than happy to bring you with me.” I hated spending any time with him, but A.D.A. Reed would tear him apart if he tried pulling the whole cocky macho man routine.
He turned and focused his hypnotic green eyes on me. If he wasn’t such an asshole maybe his Jedi mind trick would work on me. His wolfish grin confirmed the object of his latest desire was me.
Pretending had Claire’s best defense mechanism since she was a kid. She pretended not to hear the disparaging remarks her fellow students made about her being a nerd or a prude. She pretended not to notice boys until she was almost through college. Now, her favorite defense mechanism did its best to block the memory of her killing Blake Ambrose. As long as Claire kept herself busy, she was a rock. Nothing fazed her. Her focus remained on her patients until she visited each one of them. They shared jokes which cheered up the patients which helped Claire take her mind off of her own problems as well.
Claire kept the all-consuming beast at bay for as long as she could. But it was poised to strike, like a predator hunting its prey. The fear was nipping at her heels the moment she walked through her front door. It jeopardized everything she worked so hard for, her job, her future, and her life. A painful migraine pulsated the sides of her head bringing Claire to her knees next to her couch. Tears broke through the dam her eyes built as a defense. The stress had become insurmountable and she was in danger of losing control. It was the same way she felt the morning after she was drugged and raped.
Claire’s mind wandered back to that day. After struggling to locate her clothes, she completed the proverbial walk of shame. The name was fitting. It was exactly how she felt at the time. She felt dirty and used, ashamed that she let her guard down, and embarrassed at the thought of the things she did before and after leaving the bar. At that time, Claire refused to let something like this rip her from her responsibility as a doctor. She dressed at home and marched into the hospital as if nothing happened.
The admission of what happened would’ve made it real. Going to the police about it would only force her to relive the worst night and morning of her life over and over again. That’s when she found a flyer posted on one of the bulletin boards at the hospital. The black and white photo would’ve been passed over immediately had it not been for the picture of the gorgeous couple taking up the majority of the page. The man was dressed in a nice suit, although the black and white image didn’t do the suit justice. His slicked back hair and clean shaven appearance let his handsome features standout from any picture of the male models Claire was used to seeing. The hot blond was wearing an elegant gown with a slit up the side and sparkly shoes that most women would die to wear. The duo appeared to be spending a night on the town. At their feet lay a broken picture of a younger version of the man. This version wore glasses and had his hair plastered to his head. The bow tie, suspenders and button down shirt had the obvious intention of making the younger version appear to be the stereotypical high school geek. The top of the page had the bold words;
Find the Success You Want
.
Success wasn’t something Claire needed. Being a doctor was the epitome of success in her mind. Confidence was something she lacked. Any shred of that had been ripped away from her that morning. The picture exuded what was taken from her and she wanted it back. Without hesitation, Claire attended the next meeting and was hooked from that moment on. It had given her the boost, the motivation, she needed to get her life back on track. It started with her purchasing a gym membership and sessions to work with a personal trainer. It was meant to help her shed some weight, but she didn’t expect it to become an addiction, an addiction that buried the stress and pain she had been dealing with. As long as she hit the gym, her stress levels never reached that critical point again, that was until she killed a man.
That’s it
, Claire thought. She jumped up from the floor and raced into her bedroom to her dresser. Her hands yanked open the drawers as she frantically searched for a pair of black yoga pants and a bold red tank top. Red had always been Claire’s favorite color. She owned more red dresses that anyone she knew. Every car she ever owned was another variation of the color; cherry red, flaming red, crimson red. She wouldn’t purchase the vehicle unless it came in some form of red. It was a warm color that some say elicit anger from those who see it. To Claire, it had a calming effect.
Claire took the clothes and packed them into a duffle bag, taking them with her as she rushed off to the gym. It was later than her usual time, but still saw some of the friendly faces she was used to. One man in particular was overly excited to see her walk through the doors.
Tyson Lee was a dark skinned man with bulging muscles that stuck out from his navy blue tank top. He spotted Claire from across the room and smiled as he continued barking orders to the woman using the lateral bar machine. He whispered something in the woman’s ear before walking to the front of the gym.
“Hey Claire, I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“Hi Tyson.” Claire clutched her duffle bag nervously. She didn’t know why she got defensive around him. As the personal trainer, Tyson was an intimidating specimen, but he was one of the nicest guys. He had taken Claire under his wing and showed her how to use the machines properly and how to piece together the right workout routine that would maximize weight loss and increase muscle.
“I’m with a client right now, but I should be done in about ten minutes.” He held up both hands to illustrate how long he would be.
“It’s okay. I’m just here to do some cardio and blow off some steam.” Claire’s uneasiness and stress demanded her full attention. She didn’t have time to devote to Tyson and his charming ways.
Tyson hurried over to Claire and placed his large sweaty hands on her shoulder. “Is everything all right.”
Claire shifted to her side and slipped out from Tyson’s firm grasp. “I’m fine; just the usual work stuff.” Her instincts were telling her to get away from him. She didn’t know why, but she was listening for a change. “I better get changed.” She glanced around Tyson and saw the woman getting up from the butterfly press. “Besides, I think your client is looking for you.”
Tyson checked behind him and saw the woman storming up to the counter. “Damn, I can’t get rid of this woman,” he moaned.
Claire was happy to remove herself from Tyson and from his client. She entered the women’s locker room and switched into her workout clothes. She returned to the gym floor a few minutes later and grabbed one of the treadmills that overlooked the parking lot. She did a few lunges and stretches to warm up. But every time she moved, it felt like someone was watching her.
Was someone following me? Did they know?
Claire turned and scanned the room. Nothing seemed out of sorts. No one looked like they didn’t belong. Claire shrugged her shoulders and hopped onto the treadmill. She started at a slow pace for the first minute and increasing it into a brisk walk for the second. By the third minute she was up to a jog. Her long brown hair bobbed up and down landing gently on her shoulders.
“Damn Claire, you’re looking good,” Tyson said as his eyes devoured Claire until he stepped onto the treadmill next to her.
“Thanks,” Claire replied. She didn’t want to break stride and couldn’t let herself get distracted. She kept her eyes locked on the parking lot blocking out everything else around her.
“I was surprised to see you tonight. You haven’t been around much and missed our last two appointments.”
Was he keeping tabs on me
; Claire thought. She increased the speed and quickened her pace to a full run. Tyson kept talking to her, but she ran faster to drown out his voice. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt like it was about to burst from her chest. By the ten minute mark, she was done but was still running at level seven on the treadmill. Her feet jumped to the sides allowing her to take a break. Her breathing was erratic, but Tyson was relentlessly trying to continue a conversation she wanted no part in.
Claire pulled the red tab from the treadmill, effectively shutting it down without using the cool down period. Once the track stopped, she stepped down and retrieved the wipes to sanitize the machine. The feeling like someone was watching her continued. She shrugged it off thinking it was just paranoia creeping in. She moved to the water fountain. The cold water soothed her thirst, but the belief someone was following her continued. Claire quickly stood hoping to catch the voyeuristic antagonist off guard, but no one was there.
She moved to the weight machines, letting her eyes dart around the room for anyone suspicious. The butterfly press was the first stop on the circuit Tyson helped set up for her. Ten reps per set, minimum three sets per machine. She knew if she worked slowly and used the resistance to build her muscles. But Claire needed to push her workout to an extremely fast paced routine that would tear her mind from the fear that plagued her.
“That’s three,” Claire growled as she set the weights back down. The next station was supposed to be bicep curls or the bench press, but Claire opted to sit down at the leg curl machine. She knew better than to mix the arm and leg workouts, but she didn’t care. Claire focused on her favorite stations rather than a routine. She liked the leg curl machine because it was one of the few exercises that helped sculpt her long legs.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Tyson said as passed by. His eyes drank in Claire’s body as she lay face down on the machine while her legs pulled and released the padded bar.
“Sorry Tyson; I’m just not in the mood to talk tonight,” Claire finally said. She put her face back down and continued her workout.
He watched her for another minute before dropping to his knees. “If you really wanna max out here, you need to go slower.” His hands gripped the back of Claire’s thigh and her calf. Claire’s body jolted from his touch.
“It’s fine. I can…”
“It’ll only take a minute.” His hands massaged her muscles as he worked towards her feet. His left hand wrapped around Claire’s ankle and slowly brought it up towards her back. “You feel the difference?”
“Uh huh.” Truthfully, it felt the same to Claire, but she didn’t want to interrupt. In fact the more she tried to protest, the longer Tyson would hang around her, or so she thought.
He kept pulling her ankle back and then massaging her leg as he set her foot back down. Tyson wasn’t going away. Claire tried to shake herself free, but it was no use.
“Tyson, I think I got this.” He let go and allowed her to continue working the last set. Claire sat up on the bench and stared at the clock. Tyson opened his mouth to speak, but Claire wanted no part of it. “Sorry, I have to get going. I’m on call in an hour and need to get home to shower first.” It was a blatant lie. Claire hadn’t been on call since she went into private practice a year and a half ago.
“Are we still on for Thursday’s session?”
This guy doesn’t quit.
Claire gave him a thumbs up and hurried to grab her bag from the locker room. Once she retrieved it, she checked to make sure the coast was clear. There was no sign of Tyson and no creepy feelings of someone watching her. Claire made a beeline for the front desk. A young girl, blond, maybe seventeen or eighteen stood behind the counter.
“I’d like to cancel my next training session with Tyson.”
“Sure, would you like to reschedule?”
“No, not at this time.”
Claire hurried into the parking lot and hopped into her cherry red convertible. She didn’t want to hurt Tyson’s feelings, but he went from being a nice guy to a certified creeper in one session.