Chain of Darkness
Chapter Six--
**********
Matt paced back and forth, a cup of cooling coffee in one hand and a pen in the other. His thumb rhythmically pushed the pen in and out of its sheath. Click, click, click. His lips moved as he silently talked to himself. Every so often he would stop, look down, and run his fingers through his thick blonde hair.
Sam Taylor sat on a folding chair watching him. His pad of notes sat on his lap filled with observations and theories, none of them seeming to be of any value at the moment. Most of the CSI had gone back to the lab to analyze the samples of evidence they had taken. They had gathered samples of the vomit in the bathroom and everything in the refrigerator and freezer. All of the boxed meals, fruits, vegetables, and gallons of bottled water were now being tested for foreign substances.
The coroner had determined hours ago that Michael Jacobsen had inadvertently consumed a virtually undetectable toxin. This particular poison is only effective when swallowed. It was tasteless, scentless, and very hard to identify after entering the bloodstream. Apparently, it had come from a plant in South America that, unfortunately, was as common as it was lethal. Because of this fact, there was no way to find out where it had been made and who had bought it.
A dead end.
Sam's cell phone gave a muted ring from inside his pocket.
"Taylor speaking."
He listened for a few moments before shaking his head in frustration.
"Thank you," he said briskly and turned his cell off. He looked up at Matt, who for a moment, had stopped pacing and clicking that stupid pen.
"That was CSI with the lab reports. Everything they tested came up negative. Except the vomit, that is. Nothing in the food, nothing in the water, nothing."
His partner said nothing, but Sam could tell that he was disappointed. If they could find the source of the poison, they would at least have something to work with. Matt resumed his pacing and clicking. Only a minute or two had passed before he abruptly came to a halt and his head snapped up.
"I have an idea, Sam."
He crossed the room, set his coffee on an end table, and stopped at the front door.
"Alright, lets pretend I'm Jacobsen. I've just came home from work," he opened and shut the door to illustrate, "Now, as we heard from his neighbor, he always went to the gym after his shift and then ran home. We know he did just that on the night of the murder, thanks to an eyewitness."
Sam nodded in agreement. He hoped he was going somewhere with this.
"Ok, I just ran home from the gym. What do I do first?" he waited for Sam to answer.
"Uh, take my coat off maybe?"
"Yes…" he drawled, "And then what? You just came in from a hard workout. Try and imagine how you'd feel."
"Thirsty?"
"Yes! You would feel thirsty because you hadn't taken a water bottle. So, now you go into the kitchen," he walked into the small kitchen and paused by the refrigerator. Sam followed him in and observed curiously as Matt opened the door of the fridge and pointed to the top shelf. Two four-gallon drums of bottled water were sitting there, their taps hanging slightly over the edge. They had both been previously unopened until CSI had to cut the plastic seal to collect samples.
"What do you think, Sam?"
"Well, it looks like Jacobsen used bottled water instead of tap. But we already knew that, he has it delivered every week,"
"Yeah, he did," Matt paused frowning. He folded his arms across his chest "If these weren't opened when I came home, all hot and thirsty, I wouldn't go to all of the trouble of finding a knife and cutting them open, would I?"
Sam watched his partner as he thought intensely for a moment. His eyes darted around the kitchen as if searching for missed clues. Something in his face brightened as they landed on the stainless-steel sink.
In no time at all, Matt had knelt down on the floor and opened the cabinet below. He carefully pulled a box of household cleaners out and set them aside. His hand and arm disappeared into the dark cupboard, and his eager fingers circumspectly explored each corner and wall. Finally they found what they had been searching for. Matt couldn't hold back a smile.
"Check this out, buddy."
Sam retrieved a small penlight from his breast pocket. He stooped down next to his partner, who was grinning like he'd won the lottery. The flashlight's powerful beam cut into the dark and found the water pipe.
A small, plastic, egg-shaped bottle had been attached to the backside of the tarnished pipe, and a thin tube ran from it. His light followed the tube up a few inches. It disappeared into the side of the pipe where a hole had been drilled and was secured with some sort of adhesive. If water ran through the pipe, the pressure of it would create suction enough to drain the vile of its contents.
Sam let out a soft whistle. "How'd the hell did you know?"
"Elementary, my dear Watson!" Matt smirked; then his brown eyes turned solemn "Poor guy had some serious enemies. Whoever did this, went to alot trouble to pull it off."
"Tell me about it. He had to buy the poison, break into the house, and rig all this up…" Sam's voice trailed off as he stood up, rubbing his tired face.
"And look—It's totally empty. That's why the water tests came out clean. There was just enough in there to do the job."
"Yeah, this guy's dangerous—he knows what he's doing."
**********
The perpetrator ran around a corner into a shadowy alley. Bosco was less than ten feet behind in full pursuit. He was getting out of breath and his legs were starting to burn. He could hear the perp's feet slapping the pavement, slowing slightly.
'Ha! I got you now, sucker!' he thought as he entered the alley. He squinted in the dim light and spotted the guy trying to climb over a tall chain-link fence dividing the alleyway in half. Pulling out his nightstick, Bosco started into a full sprint. There was no way he was going to let this one get away. Not like two days ago.
"Hey!" he shouted.
The man glanced over his shoulder then began to claw frantically at the fence, trying to pull himself up. But his feet kept sliding across the holes causing him to slip down even further.
Bosco was underneath him now, shaking the fence as he climbed up a few feet and grabbed at the man's struggling feet. He managed to get a good grip on his pants and quickly gave them a strong jerk.
The guy's fingers couldn't hang on any longer and he tumbled down, landing hard on the officer below. They struggled fiercely for a moment, each trying to pin the other down. The aggressive perp got a few good punches in, and the ring he wore on his right hand cut into Bosco's face. He could feel the stinging of open cuts and blood starting to trickle down the side of his head.
Bosco managed to roll the goon over and restrain him by positioning his knees on top of his shoulders. But the struggling man wasn't about to give up and started to kick Bosco vigorously in the back.
"Stop it you moron!" he yelled as he gave him a violent punch in the nose. The man struggled against his captor, twisting and jerking in an effort to get him off.
Bosco could feel his temper rising as the man continued to kick his back and squirm beneath him. He hit him again and this time a small rivet of blood ran down his face. The perp managed to get a hold of Bosco's arm and he winced slightly as the sensitive skin of his upper arm was twisted and squeezed painfully.
"Damn it! I'm gonna kill you!" He started to pound his fists on the man's face and neck. Blood was everywhere and the kicks to his back had slowed considerably, but he didn't seem to care or notice. Again and again he hit him, unaware of anything except an overwhelming sensation of power and control.
Faith ran up to him, out of breath, with her gun drawn.
"Hey!" She yelled as she got behind her partner, keeping the gun leveled at his aggressor. "Hey! Knock it off!"
Neither of them listened and the kicking and punching persisted. Bosco could feel the perp starting to lose strength, and hit even harder. The guy started to whimper in protest; his feet stopped kicking and had pulled up in pain. But Bosco was in a whole other world. A world where perps like this jag-off never run and get away with it.
"You think you're gonna get away from me? Yeah? Well you'd better think twice, jag-off!" he shouted in rage.
"Get off him, Bosco! He's down!" Faith grabbed the back of his NYPD jacket and yanked him off forcefully.
He wasn't prepared for it and his feet shot out from underneath him, causing him to land hard on the pavement. He looked up, stunned.
Faith had her left foot planted firmly on the man's chest and was aiming her gun at his head. Bosco started to stand up and move towards him. She put her hand up.
"Back off, Bosco!"
"What?"
"You heard me! Back off!"
He didn't listen and got up, pushing Faith's hand away. She didn't hesitate to point her gun in his face.
"What th—"
"He's down! What are going to do? Beat him some more?"
"He assaulted me!"
"Yeah, and it'll go in the report—he'll get rewarded in jail-days. You don't have to kill him!"
His face screwed up into a scowl and he glared furiously at his partner. She wasn't going to give in. All he wanted to do right now is teach that jerk a lesson. 'No one runs from Boscorelli and gets away with it.'
Bosco opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off, "Get back in the car, Bos. I'll take care of this."
He watched, infuriated, as Faith cuffed the perp and shoved him in the backseat of the RMP. She turned back to him and placed her hands firmly on her hips. He could see the look of displeasure in her eyes.
"What was that all about?"
"Nothing—I was just doing my job."
"Last time I checked, your job is to serve and protect. Not try and kill a purse-snatcher because he ran and resisted arrest."
"I was just trying to get him under control," he fumed. His temper was short and his bleeding head was starting to throb.
"And after he stopped and gave in? You kept at it! You can't do that, Bosco! He's liable to file a report about all this!" she threw her hands up in exasperation.
"Damn it, Faith!" he yelled, "What did you want me to do, let him get away? I seem to be getting pretty good at that, don't you think?"
She stood still for a moment before she realized what he was implying.
"So that's what this is all about, huh? What happened the other day? That wasn't your fault, I keep trying to tell you that." Her voice had softened.
"Yeah, right! There's a murderer loose on the streets and it is my fault! I was there—I could have stopped him!" His eyes were dark with guilt and remorse.
"Bosco, I don't know what else I can say to make you feel better about this. You need to realize that in your line of work nothing is going to happen the way it's supposed to. Nothing.
But that doesn't mean that when things get out of control the end result is your fault. Take responsibility for things that are under your control, and leave the rest at the door."
**********
TBC... Hope you all are still liking this :) The best is yet to come...
Chapter Six--
**********
Matt paced back and forth, a cup of cooling coffee in one hand and a pen in the other. His thumb rhythmically pushed the pen in and out of its sheath. Click, click, click. His lips moved as he silently talked to himself. Every so often he would stop, look down, and run his fingers through his thick blonde hair.
Sam Taylor sat on a folding chair watching him. His pad of notes sat on his lap filled with observations and theories, none of them seeming to be of any value at the moment. Most of the CSI had gone back to the lab to analyze the samples of evidence they had taken. They had gathered samples of the vomit in the bathroom and everything in the refrigerator and freezer. All of the boxed meals, fruits, vegetables, and gallons of bottled water were now being tested for foreign substances.
The coroner had determined hours ago that Michael Jacobsen had inadvertently consumed a virtually undetectable toxin. This particular poison is only effective when swallowed. It was tasteless, scentless, and very hard to identify after entering the bloodstream. Apparently, it had come from a plant in South America that, unfortunately, was as common as it was lethal. Because of this fact, there was no way to find out where it had been made and who had bought it.
A dead end.
Sam's cell phone gave a muted ring from inside his pocket.
"Taylor speaking."
He listened for a few moments before shaking his head in frustration.
"Thank you," he said briskly and turned his cell off. He looked up at Matt, who for a moment, had stopped pacing and clicking that stupid pen.
"That was CSI with the lab reports. Everything they tested came up negative. Except the vomit, that is. Nothing in the food, nothing in the water, nothing."
His partner said nothing, but Sam could tell that he was disappointed. If they could find the source of the poison, they would at least have something to work with. Matt resumed his pacing and clicking. Only a minute or two had passed before he abruptly came to a halt and his head snapped up.
"I have an idea, Sam."
He crossed the room, set his coffee on an end table, and stopped at the front door.
"Alright, lets pretend I'm Jacobsen. I've just came home from work," he opened and shut the door to illustrate, "Now, as we heard from his neighbor, he always went to the gym after his shift and then ran home. We know he did just that on the night of the murder, thanks to an eyewitness."
Sam nodded in agreement. He hoped he was going somewhere with this.
"Ok, I just ran home from the gym. What do I do first?" he waited for Sam to answer.
"Uh, take my coat off maybe?"
"Yes…" he drawled, "And then what? You just came in from a hard workout. Try and imagine how you'd feel."
"Thirsty?"
"Yes! You would feel thirsty because you hadn't taken a water bottle. So, now you go into the kitchen," he walked into the small kitchen and paused by the refrigerator. Sam followed him in and observed curiously as Matt opened the door of the fridge and pointed to the top shelf. Two four-gallon drums of bottled water were sitting there, their taps hanging slightly over the edge. They had both been previously unopened until CSI had to cut the plastic seal to collect samples.
"What do you think, Sam?"
"Well, it looks like Jacobsen used bottled water instead of tap. But we already knew that, he has it delivered every week,"
"Yeah, he did," Matt paused frowning. He folded his arms across his chest "If these weren't opened when I came home, all hot and thirsty, I wouldn't go to all of the trouble of finding a knife and cutting them open, would I?"
Sam watched his partner as he thought intensely for a moment. His eyes darted around the kitchen as if searching for missed clues. Something in his face brightened as they landed on the stainless-steel sink.
In no time at all, Matt had knelt down on the floor and opened the cabinet below. He carefully pulled a box of household cleaners out and set them aside. His hand and arm disappeared into the dark cupboard, and his eager fingers circumspectly explored each corner and wall. Finally they found what they had been searching for. Matt couldn't hold back a smile.
"Check this out, buddy."
Sam retrieved a small penlight from his breast pocket. He stooped down next to his partner, who was grinning like he'd won the lottery. The flashlight's powerful beam cut into the dark and found the water pipe.
A small, plastic, egg-shaped bottle had been attached to the backside of the tarnished pipe, and a thin tube ran from it. His light followed the tube up a few inches. It disappeared into the side of the pipe where a hole had been drilled and was secured with some sort of adhesive. If water ran through the pipe, the pressure of it would create suction enough to drain the vile of its contents.
Sam let out a soft whistle. "How'd the hell did you know?"
"Elementary, my dear Watson!" Matt smirked; then his brown eyes turned solemn "Poor guy had some serious enemies. Whoever did this, went to alot trouble to pull it off."
"Tell me about it. He had to buy the poison, break into the house, and rig all this up…" Sam's voice trailed off as he stood up, rubbing his tired face.
"And look—It's totally empty. That's why the water tests came out clean. There was just enough in there to do the job."
"Yeah, this guy's dangerous—he knows what he's doing."
**********
The perpetrator ran around a corner into a shadowy alley. Bosco was less than ten feet behind in full pursuit. He was getting out of breath and his legs were starting to burn. He could hear the perp's feet slapping the pavement, slowing slightly.
'Ha! I got you now, sucker!' he thought as he entered the alley. He squinted in the dim light and spotted the guy trying to climb over a tall chain-link fence dividing the alleyway in half. Pulling out his nightstick, Bosco started into a full sprint. There was no way he was going to let this one get away. Not like two days ago.
"Hey!" he shouted.
The man glanced over his shoulder then began to claw frantically at the fence, trying to pull himself up. But his feet kept sliding across the holes causing him to slip down even further.
Bosco was underneath him now, shaking the fence as he climbed up a few feet and grabbed at the man's struggling feet. He managed to get a good grip on his pants and quickly gave them a strong jerk.
The guy's fingers couldn't hang on any longer and he tumbled down, landing hard on the officer below. They struggled fiercely for a moment, each trying to pin the other down. The aggressive perp got a few good punches in, and the ring he wore on his right hand cut into Bosco's face. He could feel the stinging of open cuts and blood starting to trickle down the side of his head.
Bosco managed to roll the goon over and restrain him by positioning his knees on top of his shoulders. But the struggling man wasn't about to give up and started to kick Bosco vigorously in the back.
"Stop it you moron!" he yelled as he gave him a violent punch in the nose. The man struggled against his captor, twisting and jerking in an effort to get him off.
Bosco could feel his temper rising as the man continued to kick his back and squirm beneath him. He hit him again and this time a small rivet of blood ran down his face. The perp managed to get a hold of Bosco's arm and he winced slightly as the sensitive skin of his upper arm was twisted and squeezed painfully.
"Damn it! I'm gonna kill you!" He started to pound his fists on the man's face and neck. Blood was everywhere and the kicks to his back had slowed considerably, but he didn't seem to care or notice. Again and again he hit him, unaware of anything except an overwhelming sensation of power and control.
Faith ran up to him, out of breath, with her gun drawn.
"Hey!" She yelled as she got behind her partner, keeping the gun leveled at his aggressor. "Hey! Knock it off!"
Neither of them listened and the kicking and punching persisted. Bosco could feel the perp starting to lose strength, and hit even harder. The guy started to whimper in protest; his feet stopped kicking and had pulled up in pain. But Bosco was in a whole other world. A world where perps like this jag-off never run and get away with it.
"You think you're gonna get away from me? Yeah? Well you'd better think twice, jag-off!" he shouted in rage.
"Get off him, Bosco! He's down!" Faith grabbed the back of his NYPD jacket and yanked him off forcefully.
He wasn't prepared for it and his feet shot out from underneath him, causing him to land hard on the pavement. He looked up, stunned.
Faith had her left foot planted firmly on the man's chest and was aiming her gun at his head. Bosco started to stand up and move towards him. She put her hand up.
"Back off, Bosco!"
"What?"
"You heard me! Back off!"
He didn't listen and got up, pushing Faith's hand away. She didn't hesitate to point her gun in his face.
"What th—"
"He's down! What are going to do? Beat him some more?"
"He assaulted me!"
"Yeah, and it'll go in the report—he'll get rewarded in jail-days. You don't have to kill him!"
His face screwed up into a scowl and he glared furiously at his partner. She wasn't going to give in. All he wanted to do right now is teach that jerk a lesson. 'No one runs from Boscorelli and gets away with it.'
Bosco opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off, "Get back in the car, Bos. I'll take care of this."
He watched, infuriated, as Faith cuffed the perp and shoved him in the backseat of the RMP. She turned back to him and placed her hands firmly on her hips. He could see the look of displeasure in her eyes.
"What was that all about?"
"Nothing—I was just doing my job."
"Last time I checked, your job is to serve and protect. Not try and kill a purse-snatcher because he ran and resisted arrest."
"I was just trying to get him under control," he fumed. His temper was short and his bleeding head was starting to throb.
"And after he stopped and gave in? You kept at it! You can't do that, Bosco! He's liable to file a report about all this!" she threw her hands up in exasperation.
"Damn it, Faith!" he yelled, "What did you want me to do, let him get away? I seem to be getting pretty good at that, don't you think?"
She stood still for a moment before she realized what he was implying.
"So that's what this is all about, huh? What happened the other day? That wasn't your fault, I keep trying to tell you that." Her voice had softened.
"Yeah, right! There's a murderer loose on the streets and it is my fault! I was there—I could have stopped him!" His eyes were dark with guilt and remorse.
"Bosco, I don't know what else I can say to make you feel better about this. You need to realize that in your line of work nothing is going to happen the way it's supposed to. Nothing.
But that doesn't mean that when things get out of control the end result is your fault. Take responsibility for things that are under your control, and leave the rest at the door."
**********
TBC... Hope you all are still liking this :) The best is yet to come...