Chain of Darkness
Chapter Eleven--
**********
Matt trudged slowly up the stairs, Sam close behind. They had just returned from the site of the last grisly murder; the thick smell of blood and the images of the young man's tortured expression refused to leave his mind, haunting him.
They were on their way to talk to the two officers that had discovered the body. He grasped a thick file in his right hand, hoping and praying that all of the notes, evidence, and pictures would somehow give them a lead in this case. Maybe this time the killer had left a clue, a small mistake, perhaps. But in the back of his mind he knew—like the other crimes, this one was pretty much cut and dried. Evidence was scarce, and no unidentified DNA had been collected yet.
He was beginning to feel helpless against this relentless, cold-blooded machine.
Matt entered a small room nearly filled by the large, square table in the center. Two uniformed officers sat on one side, facing the doorway.
"Evening, officers. This won't take long." He and Sam took seats opposite them and introduced him and his partner, taking a quick look into the folder at his notes. Officers Faith Yokas and Maurice Boscorelli. Perhaps they could provide a lead, something they'd missed. Sam pulled a slim notebook out of his pocket and wrote a few words at the top of the page, nodding at his young partner to begin.
Matt cleared his throat, "Says here that you were the officers that found the body, correct?"
"That's right." Boscorelli nodded and leaned back in his chair.
"At approximately what time did you find the body?"
Yokas thought for a moment, "I think around four, maybe four-thirty."
Matt glanced at his notes again, scanning down the page. According to the liver temperature, the coroner had conjectured the time of death between 1-3am that morning. They hadn't found the body until over twelve hours later. Another notation farther down the page read that Gusler was supposed to have been on duty with Yokas. Yet, she had obviously gone out with her usual partner.
"Okay, my notes say here that Steven Gusler was scheduled to be on duty today. Can you clear this up for me? Actually, why don't you just tell me the whole story, starting from the last time you saw him."
He studied their faces closely, mostly out of habit. Yokas seemed relatively calm, considering the circumstances; her light blue eyes showing signs of stress and fatigue. On the other hand, despite the hard look on his face, her partner's eyes were uneasy, almost on edge.
Yokas sighed and began talking, spelling out exactly what had happened, Boscorelli filling in and commenting. Most of it they already knew; Gusler was last seen here at the station the night before, doing paperwork. After he was fatally shot, his body was pulled up from the floor, placed on the bed, and covered with a comforter. His apartment door had been left unlocked, but not ajar, showing no signs of forced entry. Looking for him, the two officers had arrived around 4pm, entered the apartment and discovered the corpse.
The only thing that Yokas had helped clear up was why she was riding with Boscorelli instead of Gusler.
Matt was exhausted and couldn't think of anything else to ask. "Sam, you have any questions?"
His partner only sighed and shook his head, "No. Thank you both for your time, we appreciate you waiting here for us." He nodded at the cops, releasing them to go home.
"I have a question," Boscorelli was on his feet, hands on his hips. "What the hell is going on around here? Do you have any idea who is doing this? And why? I mean, it doesn't make any sense."
"Uh," Matt swallowed hard and struggled to find the right words. They needed to know that everything was going to be all right, be assured that the detectives were on top of things, hot on the trial of this killer; that the latest one of their fallen comrades would be the last victim. Even after all of the analyzing and profiling, investigating and long hours of scrutiny, the detectives had come up empty-handed. Regrettably, he'd have to be lying to say anything close to comforting.
He cleared his throat, "That's okay, we don't think it makes much sense either. But we are doing all we can to find this guy. I can't tell you much more than that."
Damn, that sounded so weak. He smiled, trying to cover his doubts and worries, but his smile felt fake, plastic.
Fortunately, his answer seemed to appease Yokas. He wasn't so sure about her partner. Boscorelli was frowning at him, a strange look on his face. They both exited the room without any further questions.
Matt nearly slammed the door shut in frustration then sank into a chair, rubbing his eyes. "We need to get something on this guy. We have nothing, absolutely nothing to work with."
Sam leaned forward and folded his hands, elbows on the table, not knowing what to say. He hated seeing Matt like this—exhausted, frustrated, dejected.
"What are we going to do, Sam?" Matt paused and looked up at his partner dismally. "What the hell are we going to do?"
**********
Faith pulled her car up to the curb and parked. Bosco, who had been silent the entire ride, hesitated as he grasped the door handle.
"Thanks for drivin' me home."
"No problem, Bos." She forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Bosco could see the weariness in her face. He knew all she wanted right now was to go home and crawl into bed. That was the last thing he wanted to do--the second he left the car he was alone. Gusler was alone when he was murdered. Heck, so were all of the others.
"You okay?" Faith's asked softly, pulling him out of his thoughts. She had noticed his reluctance to get out of the car.
"Uh, yeah," he muttered, swallowing against the large lump in his throat. He couldn't let her see that he was afraid. He had to be strong. "Night, Faith."
"Goodnight, see you tomorrow." She said as he shut the door.
Bosco stood on the sidewalk and watched her drive away until her taillights disappeared around a corner. Faith was so lucky, she had a family to go home to—not a dark, empty apartment. He jogged quickly into his building and up the long flight of stairs, half-expecting something to jump out and grab him. The last couple of weeks were really taking a toll on his mind.
As soon as he got into his apartment he shut the door and locked up the deadbolt and chain-lock, checking them both twice to make sure they were secure. Then he walked around quickly, flipping all of the lights on, relieved only when the apartment was bright and shadow-less. He hated the dark; it terrified him. It reminded him too much of when he was young. His drunken father would get angry and he'd lock him in a pitch-black closet for days. He would sit in a corner sobbing, listening to the cockroaches and rats scratch within the thin walls, praying that they wouldn't bite him. Even years later, when in a dark room he could still feel the sensation of absolute vulnerability and terror, reminding him that he'd never really get over what had been done to him.
Bosco grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, switched the television on, and plopped down on his couch, feeling very alone. He couldn't stop thinking about Gusler. Guilt and remorse flooded through his body as he recalled every insult, smirk and jeer he'd aimed at the young rookie. God, how he wished he'd been nicer to that kid. Gulping down the last bit of his beer, he pushed those thoughts aside, trying to focus on the blaring TV.
But instead, the detective's words danced through his head, taunting him, '…we are doing all we can to find this guy. I can't tell you much more than that.'
He remembered listening to that young detective thinking, "What the hell!? What kind of an answer is that?" Then came the strained smile, meant to reassure them, Bosco supposed, but it did anything but that. His dark blue eyes had betrayed him, clouding over with fear and trepidation.
That one look was enough to encourage the hint of anxiety in his stomach to grow into a churning, sour, sickening feeling of dread.
**********
Faith pulled her thick comforter up, snuggling against her sleeping husband. She stared at the glowing red numbers on her digital clock radio, watching the digits slowly change. Sleep had been evading her for hours, leaving her to dwell on the events of the last week, prompting unanswered questions to swirl around in her head.
She worried about Bosco; he had looked so forlorn tonight when she'd dropped him off, hesitating to get out of the car. Her partner was always so strong, so confident, but tonight she had noticed his uncertainty and it bothered her. He was scared, she knew it.
She thought about all of the officers of the 55th-- any one of them could be next.
"God", she prayed silently, "please help us..."
**********
TBC...
Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! I hope you are still enjoying it :)
Chapter Eleven--
**********
Matt trudged slowly up the stairs, Sam close behind. They had just returned from the site of the last grisly murder; the thick smell of blood and the images of the young man's tortured expression refused to leave his mind, haunting him.
They were on their way to talk to the two officers that had discovered the body. He grasped a thick file in his right hand, hoping and praying that all of the notes, evidence, and pictures would somehow give them a lead in this case. Maybe this time the killer had left a clue, a small mistake, perhaps. But in the back of his mind he knew—like the other crimes, this one was pretty much cut and dried. Evidence was scarce, and no unidentified DNA had been collected yet.
He was beginning to feel helpless against this relentless, cold-blooded machine.
Matt entered a small room nearly filled by the large, square table in the center. Two uniformed officers sat on one side, facing the doorway.
"Evening, officers. This won't take long." He and Sam took seats opposite them and introduced him and his partner, taking a quick look into the folder at his notes. Officers Faith Yokas and Maurice Boscorelli. Perhaps they could provide a lead, something they'd missed. Sam pulled a slim notebook out of his pocket and wrote a few words at the top of the page, nodding at his young partner to begin.
Matt cleared his throat, "Says here that you were the officers that found the body, correct?"
"That's right." Boscorelli nodded and leaned back in his chair.
"At approximately what time did you find the body?"
Yokas thought for a moment, "I think around four, maybe four-thirty."
Matt glanced at his notes again, scanning down the page. According to the liver temperature, the coroner had conjectured the time of death between 1-3am that morning. They hadn't found the body until over twelve hours later. Another notation farther down the page read that Gusler was supposed to have been on duty with Yokas. Yet, she had obviously gone out with her usual partner.
"Okay, my notes say here that Steven Gusler was scheduled to be on duty today. Can you clear this up for me? Actually, why don't you just tell me the whole story, starting from the last time you saw him."
He studied their faces closely, mostly out of habit. Yokas seemed relatively calm, considering the circumstances; her light blue eyes showing signs of stress and fatigue. On the other hand, despite the hard look on his face, her partner's eyes were uneasy, almost on edge.
Yokas sighed and began talking, spelling out exactly what had happened, Boscorelli filling in and commenting. Most of it they already knew; Gusler was last seen here at the station the night before, doing paperwork. After he was fatally shot, his body was pulled up from the floor, placed on the bed, and covered with a comforter. His apartment door had been left unlocked, but not ajar, showing no signs of forced entry. Looking for him, the two officers had arrived around 4pm, entered the apartment and discovered the corpse.
The only thing that Yokas had helped clear up was why she was riding with Boscorelli instead of Gusler.
Matt was exhausted and couldn't think of anything else to ask. "Sam, you have any questions?"
His partner only sighed and shook his head, "No. Thank you both for your time, we appreciate you waiting here for us." He nodded at the cops, releasing them to go home.
"I have a question," Boscorelli was on his feet, hands on his hips. "What the hell is going on around here? Do you have any idea who is doing this? And why? I mean, it doesn't make any sense."
"Uh," Matt swallowed hard and struggled to find the right words. They needed to know that everything was going to be all right, be assured that the detectives were on top of things, hot on the trial of this killer; that the latest one of their fallen comrades would be the last victim. Even after all of the analyzing and profiling, investigating and long hours of scrutiny, the detectives had come up empty-handed. Regrettably, he'd have to be lying to say anything close to comforting.
He cleared his throat, "That's okay, we don't think it makes much sense either. But we are doing all we can to find this guy. I can't tell you much more than that."
Damn, that sounded so weak. He smiled, trying to cover his doubts and worries, but his smile felt fake, plastic.
Fortunately, his answer seemed to appease Yokas. He wasn't so sure about her partner. Boscorelli was frowning at him, a strange look on his face. They both exited the room without any further questions.
Matt nearly slammed the door shut in frustration then sank into a chair, rubbing his eyes. "We need to get something on this guy. We have nothing, absolutely nothing to work with."
Sam leaned forward and folded his hands, elbows on the table, not knowing what to say. He hated seeing Matt like this—exhausted, frustrated, dejected.
"What are we going to do, Sam?" Matt paused and looked up at his partner dismally. "What the hell are we going to do?"
**********
Faith pulled her car up to the curb and parked. Bosco, who had been silent the entire ride, hesitated as he grasped the door handle.
"Thanks for drivin' me home."
"No problem, Bos." She forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Bosco could see the weariness in her face. He knew all she wanted right now was to go home and crawl into bed. That was the last thing he wanted to do--the second he left the car he was alone. Gusler was alone when he was murdered. Heck, so were all of the others.
"You okay?" Faith's asked softly, pulling him out of his thoughts. She had noticed his reluctance to get out of the car.
"Uh, yeah," he muttered, swallowing against the large lump in his throat. He couldn't let her see that he was afraid. He had to be strong. "Night, Faith."
"Goodnight, see you tomorrow." She said as he shut the door.
Bosco stood on the sidewalk and watched her drive away until her taillights disappeared around a corner. Faith was so lucky, she had a family to go home to—not a dark, empty apartment. He jogged quickly into his building and up the long flight of stairs, half-expecting something to jump out and grab him. The last couple of weeks were really taking a toll on his mind.
As soon as he got into his apartment he shut the door and locked up the deadbolt and chain-lock, checking them both twice to make sure they were secure. Then he walked around quickly, flipping all of the lights on, relieved only when the apartment was bright and shadow-less. He hated the dark; it terrified him. It reminded him too much of when he was young. His drunken father would get angry and he'd lock him in a pitch-black closet for days. He would sit in a corner sobbing, listening to the cockroaches and rats scratch within the thin walls, praying that they wouldn't bite him. Even years later, when in a dark room he could still feel the sensation of absolute vulnerability and terror, reminding him that he'd never really get over what had been done to him.
Bosco grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, switched the television on, and plopped down on his couch, feeling very alone. He couldn't stop thinking about Gusler. Guilt and remorse flooded through his body as he recalled every insult, smirk and jeer he'd aimed at the young rookie. God, how he wished he'd been nicer to that kid. Gulping down the last bit of his beer, he pushed those thoughts aside, trying to focus on the blaring TV.
But instead, the detective's words danced through his head, taunting him, '…we are doing all we can to find this guy. I can't tell you much more than that.'
He remembered listening to that young detective thinking, "What the hell!? What kind of an answer is that?" Then came the strained smile, meant to reassure them, Bosco supposed, but it did anything but that. His dark blue eyes had betrayed him, clouding over with fear and trepidation.
That one look was enough to encourage the hint of anxiety in his stomach to grow into a churning, sour, sickening feeling of dread.
**********
Faith pulled her thick comforter up, snuggling against her sleeping husband. She stared at the glowing red numbers on her digital clock radio, watching the digits slowly change. Sleep had been evading her for hours, leaving her to dwell on the events of the last week, prompting unanswered questions to swirl around in her head.
She worried about Bosco; he had looked so forlorn tonight when she'd dropped him off, hesitating to get out of the car. Her partner was always so strong, so confident, but tonight she had noticed his uncertainty and it bothered her. He was scared, she knew it.
She thought about all of the officers of the 55th-- any one of them could be next.
"God", she prayed silently, "please help us..."
**********
TBC...
Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! I hope you are still enjoying it :)