THE ALTER: A Psychological Crime Thriller (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

When Ryan stepped back through the front door of the precinct, the attention was just as much as the hero’s welcome before, but the looks were less admiring. He could see the whispering lips and side stares. Those who greeted him did so with little or no eye contact. Those who looked at him did so with curious amusement.

Bret was already at his desk, but had spun his chair around when he saw Ryan enter. Ryan hesitated then made his way towards his desk just behind him. His mouth opened in a mature attempt to say a greeting, but no words came out. This had to be discussed at some point, Ryan thought. He acknowledged his right to be upset, but couldn’t help being the logical person and accommodating person he was. The discomfort lasted for a few endless seconds until Ava exited the chief of police's office and directed Bret inside.

"Hey Ryan," she said casually as if the mayor’s ball was now a distant memory. Ryan sighed, bracing himself for a lecture on assertiveness. "Was just browsing through the Williams case," she said waving a file jacket. “So Mayor Richard’s wife was principal at the school where Jason Williams worked as an evening janitor. It says here that he stabbed her to death with her own scissors?”

“The kid suffered from mental disorders,” he responded without looking at her. “Anything’s possible: obsession, murder, guilt, suicide. Of course, his old man had a different theory: blame everyone else.”

Ava stood staring at him as if waiting for him to say more. “There doesn’t seem to be a lot of information on Dr. William’s first victim either. Bill’s body was already decomposed when they found him. Nothing here about time of death,” she continued.

“Yea. So?” Ryan asked.

“Well, I’m just saying that it’s a good thing Williams is out of the picture now, right?” she finally said.

Ryan took a deep breath then gave her a disturbed look. “You know, a life is a life, Ava. We only do what we do when we have to do it,” he said.

Ava smiled. She was clever, and despite still having questions, she had just deduced the answer to one of them.

Before either could say another word the chiefs' office door opened and this time it was him summoning Ryan to the room. The opened door revealed Bret sitting with his back turned to the entrance. Ryan excused himself from Ava and went inside for what turned out to be a lecture on ethics and teamwork. Bret apologized. Ryan quickly accepted, relieving himself of the burden of conflict and confrontation. He was more than happy to believe that his partner wasn't quite himself that day.

After some minutes, Bret was asked to leave the office while the chief spoke to Ryan about his adjustment to the precinct. Though he had already been there for a few months, the chief though it important to follow up especially in light of the recent traumatic events.

As the office door opened and Ryan walked out, he could see a much lighter Bret sitting on a colleague’s desk surrounded by a small, captivated audience. Bret had apparently just delivered the punch line and a chorus of laughter was underway. He looked around at Ryan and the smile left his face. He turned back to his audience who made premature recovery from laughter then they left him.

Ryan returned to his desk. His curiosity and imagination ran wild and he struggled for restraint. He scanned the rest of the room searching for clues on what might have transpired in his absence. There was nothing. His mind was captive until he felt a paper ball hit him on the shoulder. He looked up. It was Bret looking at him with a playful giggle.

"Earth to Ryan. How far did you go this time?" he joked. An unexpected grin found Ryan’s face as he reflected on a familiar running joke his partner would make whenever his mind wandered. A feeling of relief was setting in. Few things Ryan hated more than conflict.

Bret’s eyes diverted and the smile suddenly left his face. Ryan turned and saw Ava walking by and eyeing Bret with a contemptuous look. His eyes followed her until she disappeared from view. Ryan always wondered what deep rift ran between them. It was not difficult to understand why she would find Bret’s personality unappealing, but their differences seemed stronger and more personal. Frustrated, Bret left his seat and marched after her.

Ryan returned to the files on the desk. Unfinished paperwork reminded him of the trauma he recently suffered at the hands of the rogue doctor. He recalled the dying words of Dr. Williams and tried to make sense of it. Unrelenting questions plagued him as he tapped the pencil on his desk to a quickening beat. He welcomed this brainstorming exercise, but could feel the guilt setting in as images of a distraught father wrenching to the agony of his bullets bombarded him.

When Ryan returned from his mental journey, he realized that the pencil in his hand was broken in two. His clench was still strong and his hands trembled. He looked up and realized that Ava’s trek back to her desk was interrupted by the odd sight. He noticed her curious expression, but before he could react or offer an explanation, she walked away.

He left his seat and headed towards the water dispenser. It seemed like a good enough diversion. There was only one paper cup remaining and by then another officer stood behind him waiting. By the time Ryan could pick up a cup that had been carelessly discarded on the floor, the officer stepped in front of him and seized the last one. He giggled, tapping Ryan playfully on the shoulder, then swallowed and walked away. Ryan stared at him in silent disbelief.

That evening, he went home hoping to avoid a discussion that he had so far managed to evade. Ryan entered the house he was still getting used to. As usual, he headed towards the kitchen for a drink. He paused at the sight of Alice standing at the sink with her back turned. She hesitated for a heartbeat then ran towards him greeting him with an embrace. For a moment neither said a word. She had much to say, but a lot to conceal. She understood him and felt the pains of his past, and the trials he recently endured. To her, Ryan was not a man without frailties. Nevertheless, he was a man with extraordinary strength to survive the impossible.

The couple loosened their embrace and looked at each other with intense love, then leaned forward, devouring each other in a passionate kiss. Ryan lifted her onto the kitchen counter. She pulled her blouse over her head while wrapping her legs around his waist. Then she drew him in again, kissing him deeply.

Suddenly, there was an urgent knock on the door that grew more impatient by the second. The couple pulled away and looked at each other with equal curiosity. Ryan headed towards the front door and peered through a window that gave him a covert view of the front steps. He pulled back suddenly with an even more puzzled look and then opened the door.

“Ava?” he said wondering what could possibly have brought her to his door.

“Dr. William’s first victim was killed before his son died. Was that revenge too?” Ava said angrily.

“What? What are you talking about?” Ryan said puzzled.

“And Mrs. Richards didn’t die of stab wounds. She was strangled before she was stabbed. How could you not know this? Or did you?” Ava complained. The young detective was perturbed and Ryan became defensive.

“It wasn’t even my case. I didn’t get involved until after Dr. Williams started killing people,” he argued.

“Did they drag you down into the gutter too, Ryan?” she said. She shook her head in disappointment then turned and headed down the walkway leaving Ryan a bewildered.

He almost called out to her, but the matter was confidential and way too controversial. He looked back at Alice. She was curious and confused, but knew better than to question him about things like these. Ryan closed the door and pondered. Something seemed very wrong. The case they were too happy to have closed now breathed new evidence and doubt.

CHAPTER FOUR

It was another Monday morning and the chief of police had his officers gathered for a procedural review. Ryan watched Ava from a few rows behind. He mused over her departing words a few days before and wondered what prompted her to review a case that had already been closed. Still, her concerns seemed valid and he wanted to hear more.

The meeting ended and officers dispersed, some to different sections of the building, while others made their way out. Ryan remained in his seat until the human traffic subsided. He could see the chief conversing with a few others as they reviewed points from the discussion.

When he realized that he had lost track of Ava, he quickly got up and went in search of her. She was already halfway down the corridor so Ryan hastened his steps to match her brisk stride. As he neared, he called out to her and she turned around, greeting him with a daring look.

“What do you mean Dr. Williams’ first victim was killed before his son died? Are you suggesting that he didn’t do it? And tell me about the mayor’s wife," Ryan said getting straight to the point.

“Are you crazy?” she said in a loud whisper, loud enough to attract the attention of those sitting a few desks away. She quickly scanned the room for observers, but did not notice Bret sitting at his desk and raising his eyes towards them then back at his files.             

“Why the hell do you think I went through the trouble of finding you at home?” she whispered in a subdued but fiery tone. “I’m not even sure I can trust you anyway," she said as she turned and walked away.

Ryan looked even more puzzled as he watched her leave. He could see Bret wearing a smirk with this head conveniently buried in paperwork. Ryan looked back at Ava as she disappeared from view then he walked back towards his desk.

“You little devil," Bret laughed, wagging his finger at Ryan. “You like ‘em hot, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Ryan answered.

“Take my advice rookie, you can’t handle her. She’s nuts. Stay off the floor," he advised, burying his eyes back in paperwork.

The chief’s office door swung open. “Mitchell. Wallace. You’re up," his voice bellowed across the room.

“Thank God," Bret said, “I was starting to feel like I was in a nursing home.”

After a briefing, the two made their way across town to respond to a distress call. Ryan couldn’t help but notice Bret’s enthusiasm, his thirst for adventure. Perhaps this was more like a craving for violence, Ryan thought. Then again, perhaps he was conditioned by the city.

They pulled up in front of an apartment building in a depressed part of the city. Bret slammed the car door shut and headed for the entrance of the building that, like those around it, had suffered some neglect. His partner followed behind with a less zealous stride.

A young boy ran up to them from behind. “Mister, wanna give me a dollar?” he asked trying to keep pace.

"Get lost, kid," Bret answered without looking around.

Ryan examined the boy’s appearance. He was dirty and his clothes were worn. Had it been in another part of the city, he would have assumed that he was homeless, but here he blended in.

“So how about a quarter?” the boy persisted.

“I said get the hell out of here," Bret demanded in a loud, annoyed tone, glancing at the child for the first time and the boy stopped.

“Go home son," Ryan recommended.

“You see that, Ryan?” Bret explained. “Those are the same ones who will be shooting at us in the next few years. They are the sons of junkies and they will be junkies. Don’t think for a second you can reason with them."

"I saw Christina in your car!” the boy yelled from several feet behind.

Bret spun quickly and the boy took off down the road. Bret turned and saw Ryan’s curiosity, but didn’t say a word and neither did Ryan. Perhaps some things were better left unsaid.

They entered the apartment building and made their way a few floors up. They were still a few doors away when they heard a commotion.

“This is the police. Open up!” Bret demanded, banging on the door.

The commotion continued and they forced their way in. A young man sat in the opposite corner facing them with one arm wrapped around a terrified woman’s throat, while the other held a pistol to her head.

“Luis?" Bret said in surprise as he lowered his gun.

Ryan gave his partner a confused look, but maintained his aim.

“What are you doing, son? What are you doing around these places anyway?” Bret asked.

The young man seemed distraught with tears running down his face while at the same time fuming with a rage that made the detectives nervous. “I put this bitch though college and gave her my money. Now she wants to play me like a fool,” he lamented.

“Come one man, she’s not worth it. This place is a dump. You’re heir to the throne. You should be mixing with high society and screwing supermodels. Please put the gun down,” Bret reasoned. Bret paused then began putting his own gun into its holster.

“Are you crazy?”Ryan whispered, looking at him.

              “No one plays me like that. It’s about respect!” the young man shouted while his young hostage cried hysterically.

Bret made a step forward with his hands in the air, but suddenly the youth fired a shot that barely missed his shoulder. The young woman capitalized on the distraction and sprang from his grip. Ryan took aim, determined not to hesitate as he did with Dr. Williams.

“Ryan, no!” Bret shouted, but his efforts were not enough to prevent a bullet from hitting the crazed youth in his abdomen.

“Jesus, Ryan. You have no idea what you've done,” Bret said in panic as he ran over to the young man who appeared seriously wounded. He stooped to examine him then stood, holding his head with both hands.

Ryan watched him in bewilderment. He went over, examined the young man and said, “You know him? We can still get him to a hospital. He can make it.”

Bret looked at Ryan annoyed. He picked up the young man’s gun which had fallen onto the floor and, to Ryan’s surprise, pumped two bullets into the youth’s chest killing him.

“Why the hell did you do that?” Ryan screamed at his partner.

“I just saved our lives,” Bret answered. “Do you have any idea who that kid was? That’s Luis Alverez, son of Mateo Alverez. His father is head of the Culebra syndicate, the biggest criminal organization in the city.”

“Culebra?” Ryan asked in a nervous voice.

“If word gets out that we so much as pointed a gun at his son, there's gonna be war across the city,” Bret warned.

Bret looked across the room and saw the young woman who appeared just as terrified as she was when they arrived. She crouched in a corner, trembling at what she had just witnessed. Bret stepped towards her with the deceased man’s gun. The woman screamed. Ryan, realizing his intent, grabbed on to his partner’s hand, but to no avail. Two loud explosions filled the room and after one last scream, the woman was dead.

Ryan’s head pounded and he paced the room frantically.

Bret looked at him. “No one can know what just happened here, Ryan. No one. We just made sure of that,” he said in an unbelievably calm manner. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. After wiping the gun clean of fingerprints, he placed it into dead Luis’ hand.

Ryan looked at his partner as if staring into a dark well of secrets. He saw a cold, methodical being that seemed capable of doing anything, no matter how unethical or cruel. His already unflattering view of Bret took on new dimensions. He understood the reason for the measures taken, but it took a particular type of character to follow through so calmly and expeditiously.

About an hour later, investigators arrived. They navigated though the crowd that had gathered in the hallway and entered the apartment.

“Let me do the talking,” Bret insisted and Ryan agreed. He pulled one of the investigators aside and whispered something in his ear. At first he seemed startled, but after composing himself he went about his duties.

The plan worked quite well. Soon the airwaves ignited with reports about the son of a prominent businessman who killed his girlfriend in a jealous rage then turned the gun on himself. The two city detectives who responded to the distress call reportedly turned up to see the aftereffects of the brutal murder/suicide. It was sensational and, more importantly, plausible.

Ryan and his rogue partner drove back to the precinct in silence. A severe uneasiness plagued him. He feared becoming a target of the notorious syndicate, but he also had a new menacing fear of the Bret he had witnessed earlier. Still, they were partners, accomplices, and both of them had a vested interest in sticking to the story.