After what seemed like
hours, but really only lasted thirty seconds, Chase composed himself. His military
training kicking in. He took a couple deep breaths to compose himself. Gently
scratching Clio between her ears, he turned to the detective.
“I suppose you would
like me to go with you to identify the body.”
“Well, I guess that
needs to be done, though I fear it will be a waste of time. Come with me.”
With that Detective
Sturbridge turned and strode purposefully towards the exit. The walk to the
detective’s car was short. He was surprised to see a Nissan Maxima. Where was
the police cruiser? Seeing the look in Chase’s eyes, Det. Sturbridge chuckled
and told him that it was her personal car. Her partner had their unmarked
cruiser.
Shrugging his
shoulders, Chase opened the door and slid in. As soon as he had the door
closed, Clio hopped out of his hands and into the back seat. She spun around
three times, then curled up and fell fast asleep.
Det. Sturbridge started
the car. Chase listened to the engine purring almost in tune with Clio in the
back. It seemed the detective kept her car in top shape. As she pulled out, the
CD player began. Strains of music began to softly filter through the car. Chase
recognized the song immediately. Ashley had gushed to him about this singer all
the time. He had to give Christina
Aguilera credit. She had an amazing voice. Listening as the lyrics to Hurt
flowed over him, Chase stared out at the passing streets.
Det. Sturbridge seemed
to know her way around the city. She expertly weaved through streets, avoiding
all traffic lights. Sadly, this took them through some unsavory parts of town. Several
times he saw empty boxes blow across
the street. Apparently people didn’t worry about trash in this neighborhood.
As they continued on in
silence, Chase studied the small store fronts they were passing. So many check
cashing places, he thought. These were almost outnumbered by the number of bars
along the street. It made sense, in a sad sort of way. People would be so
desperate to feed their alcoholism; they would be willing to pay the outrageous
fees to the check casher. Then they would head out, only to have to walk
several feet to the nearest bar.
As they neared to
hospital, Chase noticed a small antique store. In the window, a small breadbox was prominently displayed. He felt
a little catch in his throat as he realized how much Ashley would have wanted
it. She always loved collecting odd, old things.
*3*
All too soon Chase
found himself following Det. Sturbridge down the corridors of Mass General
Hospital. Even at such an early time the halls were crowded. At least they were
for most of the walk. As they neared the morgue, he noticed fewer people. Finally,
they came to a door marked Special Services. The morgue was one area they never
liked to advertise. Nobody wanted to see that word in a hospital. The detective
turned to him and asked if he was sure he wanted to do this now. He nodded once
than walked through the door.
A large room opened up
before him. It was brightly lit by florescent lights strewn across the ceiling.
The far wall was lined with dozens of stainless steel doors. Meat lockers, as
some would call them.
There were three stainless
steel tables in the middle of the room. Two were empty at the moment. The third
had a sheet covering its contents, though Chase could guess what it was. As they
began to walk towards the table, a middle aged doctor stepped out of a room to
the left.
“Ah, Det. Sturbridge, I
wasn’t expecting to see you this early. I’ve only just
“That’s OK, Dr.
Berring. This is Sgt. McCourt. He is here to identify the body.”
A strange look crossed
Dr. Berring’s face. Then he just shrugged and led the way. The closer they came
to the table, the more confused Chase felt. Something just didn’t look right
about the way the sheet fell.
Once they were there,
the doctor took a hold of the sheet. Looking first to Det. Sturbridge for
confirmation. When she nodded, he turned to Chase. Raising his eyebrows quizzically,
he seemed to be asking one last time if Chase had any doubts. Finally, he just
raised the sheet with a flourish.
At first, Chase couldn’t
make sense of what he was seeing. Is this some strange joke? Would Ashley pop
out of the corner, with a grin saying “Fooled you!” She always loved Comedy
Nights. Perhaps this was her own version: Comedy Tonight at the Morgue. When he
looked over to the doctor and detective, he realized it wasn’t a joke.
“What the hell? I
thought you said my sister was dead. How were you able to identify her?”
“We didn’t think we
would at first. That is how she was found; laying in the Commons headless and
handless. The scene was surprisingly bloodless. We figure she was killed
elsewhere and dumped in the Commons. If it wasn’t for her license being found
in her pocket, we probably would still have no idea who she was.”
Suddenly comprehension
filled Chase.
“You didn’t search for
me to identify the body. You came looking for me to see if I knew who did it.”
He thought for a few
seconds then continued. Pointing towards a small pile of clothing remarkably
clean of blood, he continued.
“OK, assuming those are
her clothes, I would say she was dressed in them after she was beheaded. There
is not enough blood on them for her to be wearing them during the act. Did you
receive a video or something stating that this was happening? I assume that you
feel since I am coming back from deployment to the Middle East, you think that
some bent extremist is retaliating against my family. If not, your theory is a
little weak. These people tend to enjoy showing off their actions. They get
more terror for their actions if they show others what they will do. I would
also like to add, you would still have the head for examination. They tend to
leave that lying next to the body. The head missing leads to confusion. They
want you to know who they have killed.”
Taking a small breath,
Chase continued.
“Now, if it wasn’t
connected to me, you would assume she had some connections to organized crime.
They don’t like crimes coming back to haunt them, so they would be apt to
remove the head and hands to hamper identification. That doesn’t explain the ID
in her pocket. What idiot would take the time to remove a person’s head and
hands yet fail to check their pockets for anything that could identify them? It
makes no sense.”
Both the doctor and Det.
Sturbridge just stared at him, so he continued.
“Wait, did you say that
no one else lived at my sister’s apartment?”
“I did. Your sister is
the only name on the lease. We found no sign in the apartment of any other occupant.”
“You must be mistaken.
My sister had a roommate. Her name was Chelsea. I’ve talked to her several
times.”
“There is no sign of
anyone else living in that apartment. I’m not lying.”
“OK. Try this theory on
for size. Let’s say there is a psycho out there. He likes to abduct his
victims. He doesn’t like to advertise it though. Therefore, he either fakes the
death of his victim, or he makes it as if they never existed. I’ve seen a
picture of Chelsea. She looks an awful lot like Ashley. What if this psycho
killed Chelsea, made it seem that she was Ashley, then made Chelsea seem not to
have existed?”
“Interesting. It has
some holes though. Couldn’t it be Chelsea that the psycho was after? Wouldn’t
it be just as easy to kill Ashley and abduct Chelsea. He could still make Chelsea
seem like she never existed.”
“That is possible, but
why keep the head and hands? That insinuates an attempt to hide the identity of
the victim. I suppose there are two other possibilities as well. First, Chelsea
could be involved in the abduction. Secondly, there could be a third victim,
and Chelsea could also have been abducted. I think instead of looking at this
as a murder, you should also be looking at it as at least one abduction. Now,
if I can make a phone call, I need to contact my commanding officer. If your
original theory is correct, then they need to have someone here helping with the
investigation.”
“You are correct.
Follow me, I’ve got to call in the FBI too. Your observations make sense. I
shouldn’t be limiting myself to one possible answer to this crime, at least not
yet.”
*4*
Slowly she opened her eyes.
Glancing around, she saw a small room, more like a cell. There were chains
tying her to the wall. She was lying on a small cot. Across the room she could
see a door. It seemed pretty solid. Where was she? How did she get here?
Suddenly she heard a
scream come through the wall. Dread filled her as she struggled to remember
what happened.
This is a continuation of my story for blogophilia. Feel free to check out the other fine writers/poets and bloggers over there.
Blogophilia 17.2 Topic: Comedy Tonight??
bonus points
(hard, 2 points): include a musical teen hearthrob or pop diva (past or present)
(easy, 1 point): use the words bread box, empty box
Final day to post: June 29th midnight GMT.