The White Angel Murder (19 page)

There was another nest in the office with two old blankets. They had webs and rat droppings over them. He knew now that the nests were too old and too dirty to be in use. Even the homeless had abandoned this place long ago.

There was a large desk pushed against the wall and behind it was another door; a closet. He walked to it and tried the knob; it was open. The door creaked and dust kicked up as it scraped along the floor.

Though it was dark inside, he could make out the outline perfectly. Soft curves leading to a disheveled top. It had been pushed far back into the closet, behind a dark trench-coat and next to a box full of paperclips and documents and notepads. But the outline was unmistakable.

It was a body.

40

Stanton got outside into the sunlight and shut the factory door behind him. He snorted out of his nostrils, as if to get the air from inside out of his lungs.

With little light and no context, Stanton was still able to see the pattern. The animal-like ferocity of the attack, the torn and ragged flesh, breasts bitten or ripped away from the body. There was no doubt in his mind that it was the same as Tami Jacobs.

He called Jessica and told her what he had found. He asked her not to call it in for two hours to give him time with the body. She told him she would wait one.

It was a brisk walk to the shore. Laid out in front of him was a blanket of small bones and he could see through his childhood eyes why he thought they were seashells. He cleared a space with his foot and sat down; the crunch of bones he missed underneath him as he stretched his legs out and then curled them back against his body. It had caught him off guard, like the photos of Tami. As a detective in the thick of his career, he had distanced himself from horror. Desensitized was the word his father had used to describe it when Jon had told him how he felt. But that wasn’t accurate. He was still sensitive to it but was able to push it down deep inside, where it couldn’t get out. At least not right away. That’s how he could function and push himself forward when he needed to.

Still, he was glad this one was dead. The live ones were much harder to deal with. The interviews at the hospitals with broken and bleeding women or young girls. The guilt and misplaced blame they feel. The anger that would well up in him. It tore him apart inside. He never wanted any of that to touch Melissa or the boys so he kept it bottled up as tightly as possible, unacknowledged even to himself. But it was too large a part of his life to repress. Soon, he had to repress everything and he withdrew into himself. That’s when they didn’t talk anymore.

He stood up and watched the small waves lap on the shore for awhile before heading to his car and then back into the building.

It took a few moments of standing over the body before he leaned down and pulled out the flashlight he had taken from his glove-box and flicked it on. In a normal scene, there were things he would look for that he had memorized. A checklist he would go through. Ligature marks, synthetic and hair fibers, blood spatter, foot prints, fingerprints, photographs, video, three walk-throughs followed by diagramming. Later on would be a rape kit performed by a nurse and serological analysis. There was no time for any of that now. He checked his watch; he had thirty-seven minutes before Jessica called it in.

Stanton snapped on a pair of gloves and held the flashlight in between his teeth. He took a deep breath and then turned his attention to the body.

She was clearly female, early twenties, blond. Stanton went to bring the light closer to her face and her mouth fell open and she gasped.

He jumped back, the flashlight falling out from between his teeth and hitting the floor. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears. When he regained himself he felt her pulse. There was no beat. Her skin was cold and her body rigid.

When someone passed, bacteria in the intestinal tract would begin to eat the organs, releasing gas as a byproduct. This was what caused the bloating of corpses. The gas would sporadically be released through the mouth, causing a gasping sound. Occasionally, if it activated the vocal cords, it could produce sounds resembling words. In the middle ages, they often mistook this phenomenon as vampirism and the corpse would be staked, decapitated, and burned.

Stanton stepped away from the body and leaned against the wall. Sweat was rolling down his face and he wiped it with the back of his forearm.

When he was ready he turned back to the body. He didn’t want to disturb anything for the forensics unit so he tried to carefully just run his hands over the inside of the closet. He examined the body closely and the box and trench coat. Other than that the closet was empty.

He searched the office, the desk, and the blankets left on one side of the room. There was nothing. He checked the corners of the room and as he was about to turn back to the body he heard a noise on the factory floor. It sounded like someone dropping something and running.

He stepped out onto the platform. The floor was quiet. Stanton walked down the stairs as silently as possible and then ducked low, looking underneath the machines. On the far end nearest the door was a shadow. The shadow moved.

Without a firearm he felt helpless. He crouched low and ran behind one of the machines. Peering around the corner, he saw that the shadow was planted in one spot and didn’t move. There was the main entrance on the other side of the building but it was bolted and chained. The employee entrance was the only way in or out.

Stanton quietly went from one machine to the next, keeping his head low so he could watch the shadow. As he was on the main floor going to another machine, he heard a sneeze and then someone mumbling.

The person didn’t respond to his movements at all and Stanton managed to get behind him. He snuck around the machine and glanced at a man huddled on the ground. In one swift movement Stanton sprinted at him and threw his bodyweight against him, slamming him to the ground.

The man fought back, bashing his fist into Stanton’s jaw but he couldn’t get a good grip. He flipped onto his stomach to push himself up and Stanton wrapped his forearm around his throat and pressed his other arm to the back of his head creating a scissor choke.

The man was screaming and Stanton pressed harder, hard enough that the man’s body began to go limp. When the man had lost strength and was about to pass out, Stanton flipped him over and sat on his chest, his knees pinning the man’s arms to the floor. The man was coughing and Stanton let him finish before speaking.

“
Who are you?”

“
I ain’t nobody, man.”

“
What are you doing here?” Stanton noticed his clothing, torn and ragged.

“
I live here, man. I live here. Get off me. I ain’t done nothin’.”

“
Tell me who you are.”

The man stunk of marijuana and body odor. Alcohol was strong on his breath and Stanton saw the yellowed and black teeth. He ran his hands over the man’s clothing and found no weapon. He stood up and let the man go.

“
You,” the man said out of breath, “you the detective. You the detective, yeah?”

“
Yes.”

“
Star, er, Stage something.”

“
Stanton.”

“
Yeah, man. I got a message for you.”

“
From who?”

“
Don’t know. Mutherfucker paid me a hundred bucks and said to wait here for you.”

“
Who was it?”

“
I don’t know, man. I told you. Just some white dude. He gave me a C note and said tell Stanton there’s gonna be another one in two weeks. That’s what he said. Two weeks.”

“
What else did he say?”

“
Didn’t say nothin’ else. Said, tell him there’s gonna be another one in two weeks.”

Stanton helped the man to his feet. “What did he look like?”

“
White dude, man I don’t know. You mutherfuckers look the same to me.”

“
Did he say anything else? It’s very important you tell me.”

“
Nah, man. That’s all the dude said.”

“
Do you know anything about who she is?”

“
Who?”

Stanton saw the genuine look of confusion on the man’s face; he didn’t know.

“
Here,” Stanton said, pulling out a hundred dollar bill. He gave it to the man and then asked if there was anything else he could remember.

“
Nah, man. That’s it.”

“
Did you see him bring anything into that office back there?”

“
Nah, when he gave me the money I left. I ain’t seen nothin’ after that.”

“
Well, the police are going to be here soon. I know you got some pot here. I think you should go somewhere else for awhile if you got some place.”

Stanton checked his watch. Jessica should’ve called it in over ten minutes ago. He gave another twenty and told him to spend it only on food and the man agreed.

He ran out and jumped into his car. As he pulled out of the parking lot and made his way into Salton City, he saw two police cruisers heading toward the factory.

41

Hunter Royal watched himself in a mirror over the bed as his climaxed, the young brunette bent over in front of him groaning with pleasure, their bodies glistening with sweat under the red lighting. When they were done he collapsed next to her on the bed and looked his body over in the mirror. He was about twenty pounds overweight. Not that that mattered with women when you had money, but still. It was something he would have to work on. His body was hairless from waxing and it looked good, he thought, not model good but good. But he’d always had a problem with his nipples. He thought they were too big considering that he had a slender chest. There was no doubt he would pay a visit to his plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills to get them done, but it was a matter of timing. He would be bandaged for at least two weeks and he was hitting the pool right now at least four times a week. Maybe in the cooler months.

“
Are you spending the night?” the girl said.

“
No. I got work to do early tomorrow.”

She pulled a joint out of the nightstand next to her and lit it. The smoke was sweet smelling and it quickly overtook the scent of sweat and sex. They passed it back and forth quietly for a few minutes before he rose and found his boxers and jeans.

“
You could go to work from here tomorrow,” she said, “if you wanted.”

“
Nah, you know I like sleeping in my own bed.” When he had slipped his shirt on and found his sandals he leaned down and kissed her, running his tongue over her lips. “I’ll call you.”

“
No you won’t.”

“
No, I won’t. You call me.”

He left the house and stood on the front porch awhile, enjoying the evening air. The garden next to the porch was well tended and the lawn was freshly mowed. He watched the sun climbing down into the earth and painting the sky a light pink.

Though nineteen, the girl still lived at home. Her parents were out of town right now. Royal got a big kick out of fucking her in her parents’ bed. Maybe he would send a note to her father a little later letting him know? He only wished he could see his face as he read it.

Royal walked down to his car. As he was about to insert his key into the lock, he felt pressure on his arms and his neck snapped back as someone had him by the throat. He tried to make a sound but his airway was blocked and he began to fight.

He was lifted off his feet and dragged down the sidewalk to a car and thrown in the back.

“
What the fuck!” he shouted.

Two men climbed into the backseat with him. One stuck a gun into his side and Royal froze. He felt the warm trickle of urine down his pants.

“
Listen, guys. I’m rich. I can get—”

“
Shut the fuck up you piece of shit. I don’t want your money.”

Royal looked to the passenger seat and saw a man leaning back, absently tapping a ring against his teeth.

Harlow turned around and looked at him.

“
Mike? Are you shitting me? You can’t—” One of the men sitting next to him elbowed him in the face, causing his nose to crack and start bleeding. “Fuck!”

“
I need something from you. We’re both gonna get out of it so it’s a good deal. But I need a yes or no now.”

“
This how you ask all your friends for favors?”

“
You’re not my friend you fucking parasite and don’t you forget it.”

Royal pressed his fingers to his nose. The blood was gushing now and he tilted his head back, letting it go down his throat rather than down his shirt.

“
Don’t tilt your head back,” Harlow said. “It’ll make you vomit if you get too much blood.”

Royal straightened up. “What’dya want?”

“
Before we talk deal, how’s that little philly you were fucking in there?”

“
She’s fine.”

“
How old is she?”

“
Nineteen.”

Harlow threw a piece of paper onto his lap. He flipped on the interior light so Royal could see it well. It was a copy of the girl’s high school ID.

“
Fuck me,” Royal said.

“
That’s right asshole. She’s fifteen. You’re smarter than that. You should always check ID. Although she may have a fake one she would’ve showed you. Under the law, doesn’t make a difference. How messed up is that?”