I stood over her for brief moment and smiled into the night.
Let the games begin…
Chapter Four
Blake
“Grab the body!” I screamed at my partner through the raining debris while sparks flew from an outlet. I raced across the floor and scooped up the tiny boy who lay under a table. His lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling as I cradled him in my arms and said a silent prayer. “I’m sorry.”
“Detective,” Sergeant Peters greeted me.
I was never more grateful for an interrupted thought. “Sir.”
He offered me a handshake before he stepped back and allowed me to examine my new office. “I hope the move wasn’t a problem.”
“It wasn’t.” I set my box on the wooden desk and glanced at my view of the city. I had actually pushed to get this move after a bad breakup and a soul damaging case. Though it wasn’t far from home, it was far enough for now.
“You have one of only three offices on this floor that has a view of the city.” He gave a huff after he said it, so I could tell he wasn’t impressed either. “That’s Creek Park, and over there,” he pointed over a sea of brightly colored trees, “is Whiskey Lake.”
I looked where he had pointed then nodded and started to pull my belongings out of my box. I wasn’t sure why I needed an office. Detectives were normally never in their office, but I appreciated the gesture, nonetheless.
“Things run a little differently here than New York City. Hope you don’t get too bored.”
“I welcome it.” I tried to muster a smile so I didn’t seem too cold. I didn’t want to turn anyone off on my first day. I was known for being introverted; it was something I worked on.
“Sarge.” A man poked his head in the door and granted me a polite smile. “Sorry, but I have the file you asked for, the Jackins murder.”
“Officer Tom Benny, this is Detective Blake Daniels.” He plucked the file from Benny and started to scan it.
I offered a nod, and he gave a wave as he came into the office.
“You coming tonight?” Sarge asked me as he pulled out his phone.
“Where?”
“Barbecue at my place. I have one once a month, and my wife insists that you all come.” Sergeant Peters gave me a look that meant no was not an option.
“Sounds nice, thanks.” I went back to unpacking, and Benny left the room. I noticed the sergeant didn’t leave with him. Instead, he dropped the file on the desk and slid it over to me.
“Homer Jackins, age fifty-three, three stab wounds to the neck. Housekeeper found him in the shower. No suspects, no weapon, no witness.” He waited for me to pick it up.
I scanned the info and let it filter in and break into a pattern as I did whenever I reviewed a new case.
“First thought?”
I flipped the page to the crime scene photos. I studied the background of each photo, then the obvious things like the height of the smudges on the glass doors, the angle of the stab wounds, the fact that the house hadn’t been broken into. I quickly scanned the last few pages and closed the file and handed it back.
“The daughter.”
His eyebrows pinched together. “Why?”
“Father worked late nights, mom was depressed, daughter was away at college but wasn’t seen at any of her normal classes the night of the murder. Friends commented that the daughter seemed stressed and was spending more time with her mother. The angle of the wounds matches the height of the daughter. She was a rower, so she’d have the strength to tear the muscle down and over.” I plucked the photo from the file and held it up. “The mother had a sprained wrist, so there’s no way she could have inflicted the stabs with her right hand. My guess would be he was cheating, mom found out but was too weak to leave, so the daughter attacked him. Stabs are a sign of passion, but not all passion has to be sexual.”
He gave me a smile. “Nice. A photographic memory, I see.”
“Helpful tool.” I started to stack my books.
“You can come in, Benny,” he called.
Benny laughed from wherever he was hiding outside the door.
“Fine.” The sergeant hit my desk with the file. “I owe you a beer.” He turned at the door. “I’ll text you my address, and I’ll see you tonight.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Three cases landed on my desk that day, and all but one were easy. I spent the afternoon pinning the information on my wall and connecting as many dots as possible with a dry erase marker. I would move this home later, but for now, I wanted the visual where I could see it.
I stepped back and studied the board in front of me.
A child was taken from his mother during a robbery. Most times, the perp would take what they wanted and get the hell out, so why take the kid? My first thought was maybe it was the father, but his father had a strong alibi. The child was missing for four days before he was found sitting at a McDonald’s, scared to death. He hadn’t spoken a word since he was reunited with his mother, but thankfully, there were no signs of abuse. This was an odd one.
I rubbed my head and leaned against the desk to rest my eyes.
“Ready?” Benny popped his head in the door while he fixed his jacket. He had changed out of his uniform and was now in jeans and a polo.
“Wait.” A man with a mail cart came up next to me. “Detective Blake Daniels, right?” He read my name off a large envelope.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He got me to sign off on the package. I couldn’t help but notice his candy stash and the Christmas lights that blinked around the sides of his cart. “Name’s Fitz. Been working here since I was eighteen, so you need anything, you come to me.” He handed me a card that read The Candy Man – Ext 1225.
“Good to know.” I held up the card as a thank you.
“What kind of fudge do you like?”
“Ah…” I stumbled and tried to remember the last time I had fudge. “Chocolate?”
“Nah, you look like a pistachio kind of guy.” He tapped his head and kept moving.
“Nice meeting you, Fitz,” I called, and Benny chuckled under his breath.
“Fitz loves Christmas. Did you notice his extension number? That was Sarge’s Christmas present to him three years ago.”
“Wow.” I tucked the card in the top drawer of my desk and closed my laptop as Benny kept talking.
“He’s a good man. Lives with his mother, who used to own a candy store.”
“Okay.” I tried to feign interest as I watched Fitz drop mail on someone else’s desk. “Yeah, interesting guy.”
“You ready?”
“Yeah.” I grabbed my jacket and phone then switched off the light behind me. Sarge had given me a key to lock my door, so I did before I followed Benny down the hallway and into the cool night air.
“Meet you over there. I want to change first.” I waved him off as I raced down to my car.
Sergeant Peters lived ten minutes from my new place. I liked that I didn’t have to travel far and how there was hardly any traffic. A big step up from New York City.
Later, I pulled up in front of the address I was given. Old-fashioned streetlights lined the walkway up to a bright red door. The sound of laughter from the back yard carried a sense of warmth. My parents were great, but they were both pretty uptight, and as both of them were judges, they had never had much time for fun. I only remembered their comments about boring functions and politics. Laughter didn’t come easily. It must have been a disappointment to them that I was better out in the field digging up clues and chasing the bad guys than behind a bench. Not that they ever gave me grief about it.