Chapter 4
The cold cement that paved the alley bit into his back. He stared at the stars and wondered where he'd gone wrong. This was God's mission, his work. He could remember nothing of who or what he was before he started his mission. Now he remembered everything. There was a crack in the cement that seemed to bisect his upper thigh. There was a stone under his eight vertebra. He felt everything and everything was important.
He'd been following the woman with the curly brown hair. Her name was Stephanie Plum, her name was emblazoned on a sign above her business, and she held the red light of sin. She was almost never alone so finding his opening hadn't been easy. He was a patient man and his patience had paid off. He'd followed Stephanie Plum to a bar, a sinful place, where she'd met another woman who had carried the red light of sin. A firm believer in seizing whatever opportunity God grants you, he'd followed her instead of resuming his stakeout on Stephanie Plum. Her death was a satisfying feeling to him, a validation of his work. She'd been young and pretty and he'd almost hated to cut her throat but it was work and work was almost never fun.
His mind wandered back to Stephanie Plum, the one who had gotten away. He felt blood seep gently from a wound on his forearm and hoped that he had not been infected with her sin. Sirens filled the air and he calmly stood and brushed himself off. He would look for someone else tonight. Another woman carrying the red light of sin and he would reassure himself of his skills. There was always tomorrow for Stephanie Plum.
Joe leaned against the wall and watched his family. It was amazing. There were people here who were normally at each other's throats, mourning together. That was the way of a family. No matter how much they hated each other they could come together like nobody's business in a tragedy. Roxie sidled up to her cousin's uncle. The two girls had been best friends and inseparable. He remembered the summers when he'd do yard work for his mother and the two girls would bound over asking for ice cream money. They'd both look at him with those big eyes and say, "Pleeease Uncle Joe," and he couldn't have denied them anything. The sorrow Joe felt for himself it was expanded by his sympathy of what the young girl next to him was going through. The normally vivacious twenty-something seemed to be completely deflated. He slipped an arm around her shoulders.
"How you holding up, kid?" he asked hugging her gently. When she looked up her dark eyes were full of unshed tears.
"I just don't know what I'm going to do without her," Roxie said, "Yesterday I thought it was the end of the world that she was marrying that jerk and that I'd never see her because her husband would be taking up all her time. Now I know what the real end of the world is like." She sniffled softly, swiping at her eyes.
"This is the worst part right, Uncle Joe? Each day gets better after this?" she asked, looking younger and more vulnerable than he'd seen her look in a while. There was such hope in her eyes that he knew he'd never lie to her.
"The honest to God truth, Rox, is that I just don't know if it will get better. What I do know is that even the short bit of time we knew Mitchie brought us something that we'll never lose and we should hold on to that," Joe said as the girl buried her face in his shirt. She shook silently for a few minutes before stepping back and letting out an apologetic groan as she viewed the state of his very wet shirt. He didn't care, it was all for a good cause.
"Did you hear?" she asked suddenly.
"Not sure," Joe responded cautiously.
"That asshole, Jerry! He's not going to be at the funeral, he's using the tickets. He says he can't waste that kind of money. To top it off he asked Rita Allise to go with him." Holy fuck, he got over things quick! Joe counseled himself that being an asshole did not make a man a murderer but still made a mental note to get over to talk to Jerry before he took off for whatever the honeymoon destination had been.
"Rita turned him down, of course, but can you believe the fucking nervw? His fiancé, future mother of his demon spawn was killed not two days ago!" Roxie's eyes spit fire. Someone called Roxie's name from the kitchen.
"Thanks, Uncle Joe," she reached up and kissed his cheek before heading for the kitchen. He turned back towards the sitting room waiting for the crowd around his brother and sister-in-law to thin before going over to speak with them. Joe spotted his mother as she leaned to say something in Bella's ear. She stood and spotted him and he waved and smiled. Joe watched his mother as she made her way through the relatives, stopping here or there for a word of encouragement and shared grief from this one or that one. It didn't take her long to get to where he was standing.
"Joseph," she whispered. He leaned down in order to allow her to kiss his cheek, "This has been horrible. The scum who did this..." Angie Morelli couldn't continue. Losing her oldest grandchild had taken a terrible toll.
"I know, Mom," Joe soothed, unsure of what he should say.
"You'll find this man?" she asked, "Maria Pedina told me that you were working the case?" Good old Maria, she worked for the chief and was about a discrete as a billboard on Main Street.
"I've been assigned the case for now, you never know what happens after tomorrow. I don't want you to worry, Mom, I've got this covered. I sent the files to someone that I trust and who can help us. I won't let you down." Angie smiled wanly.
"Whatever happens I want you to be safe," she said, patting his cheek again. He'd always loved how she'd pat his cheek as a child. The soft touch was in direct contrast with the hard and punishing belts that his father gave. There were times that Joe could have sworn that his teeth had come loose.
"I will, Mom. You don't have to worry," Joe experienced a flash of unease hoping he wasn't lying to his mother. When she smiled gently he realized that it really didn't matter. If it made her happy, he would make it the truth. There was a commotion on the other side of the room and Roxie rushed over to him looking a bit wild eyed.
"Uncle Joe, it's Stephanie," Roxie whispered a little too loudly for discretion. His heart felt as though it would race out of his chest as he waited for Roxie to catch her breath and blurt out the next bit of information. "She's been attacked!" A gasp rolled through the room but never registered with Joe who was already running from the house.
Stephanie looked up from the magazine she was shuffling through as her husband raced into the small section of the emergency room that she'd been assigned. She placed her iced coffee on the L-shaped table. Once she'd been sure that the attacker was far behind her, Stephanie had driven straight to the police station. Eddie had driven her to the hospital and called Joe while the doctor stitched the gash in her arm and proclaimed her lucky. The iced coffee had been the only thing really capable of stopping her shaking limbs.
"A little further and it might have hit something vital," the doctor had assured her. Yea, lucky miss, uh-huh...a little further and she would have been missing an arm.
"What happened," Joe asked a little breathlessly and hugged her tightly.
"Some whacko attacked me behind the Bail Bond. He was waiting in the alley," Stephanie said. Joe wasn't listening to her, he was instead examining the bandage on her arm and the cuts and scrapes all over her exposed skin. "He broke the drivers side window and cut my arm with a machete." Joe's eyebrows shot up.
"A machete?" He scrubbed his hands over his face. Joe had been panicked, she could tell. Praying that it wouldn't be the worst but knowing it wasn't the best. Stephanie wished that she'd been able to make the call herself. Eddie had just blurted the news to Roxie, and the poor girl had dropped the phone and rushed to find Joe. Joe had never come to the phone so that she could explain and assure him that she was all right.
"Eddie said that they weren't able to find the guy. How do they not find someone carrying a machete? Not like he can hide it under his coat. And why a machete? Most guys if they're gonna attack carry something that won't cut them off at the knees if they trip on a crack in the sidewalk. Geez, Joe..." Stephanie stopped talking and locked eyes with her husband as she fought against the rising panic. Joe was staring at her with a stunned expression in his chocolate brown eyes.
"Did you get a look at the guy? A good look?" he asked a bit anxiously.
"Of course I got a good look. He..." Stephanie stopped speaking again when Joe pulled a notebook from his pocket. It was THE notebook. This was serious business. She started shaking again. She could very well have been killed tonight! Joe climbed up into the bed with Stephanie and wrapped his arms around his wife. As much as he wanted to question her while the memories were fresh, he needed to be her husband first. He made soothing noises and eventually her nerves calmed again.
"I'm okay," she assured Joe a little shakily.
"Tell me everything you remember," Joe encouraged softly. Stephanie thought for a moment before answering. Geez, this was hard. On the adrenaline rush the guy had seemed eight feet tall and miles wide. Yards of black fabric had seemed to blend together. The shoes had stuck out.
"He had really awful shoes," she began. Joe raised an eyebrow, "No, really, he was wearing these weird brown hiking boots with black dress slacks and a black ribbed turtleneck." Stephanie shivered involuntarily, "Huge fashion disaster."
"But did his ensemble go with his machete?" Joe asked wryly. He was still shaken by Stephanie's attack.
"If you ask me, the machete was probably an extension for something else," Stephanie said dryly. Joe couldn't help but laugh. All the way to the hospital he'd imagined the worst. Stephanie looked a little pale but otherwise she seemed to have weathered the incident well. He was relieved for her. Her relative composure was keeping him together. If she'd been shaken he would have fallen apart trying to help her. One of the many reasons he loved Stephanie, she sure knew how to make the best of a bad situation. Stephanie narrowed her eyes at Joe. the realization crashing down on her.
"You think this is..." she began.
"Yes," Joe said softly, "A machete, every single one of them." Stephanie shuddered and Joe held her tighter as she leaned back into him. They were silent for several minutes.
"I want to nail this bastard, Joe," Stephanie said quietly. Nail him to the wall and cut off something painful...and maybe even that wouldn't be enough.
The nausea was nearly gone and Khari found that he could now look at the photos with relative ease. Relative ease meaning he was able to stay upright in the chair and keep everything in his stomach. Provided he actually hadn't eaten anything. One photo was bothering him and staring at it wasn't making things any clearer. Khari picked the phone up and dialed Joe's cell phone number. When the ringing cut to voice mail he hung up. There was probably a perfectly logical explanation for the bit of blood on which the light of the flash was reflecting. Still the more he stared at the bit of blood it started to resemble something. Khari shuffled back through the pictures and found another one that seemed to also have something reflective in just one round piece of the blood. Bizarre. He looked at the phone again before swallowing his pride and picking up the mouthpiece. Aziza answered up on the second ring.
"I'm looking at the crime scene photos," Khari began. He stopped at Aziza's chuckle.
"No kidding," she said as though she didn't quite believe him. He rolled his eyes and decided to ignore the comment.
"There's something reflecting of the flash in two of the pictures. Something in the blood. Pictures..." he shuffled through the stack, "Victim 1, Picture 3 and Victim 3, Picture 8." He heard Aziza rifling through papers, "The reflective spot almost looks perfectly round. Is that something you normally see in..." Khari stopped speaking at Aziza's sharp intake of breath.
"You're right. Victim 2 didn't have a bead that we found but they are beads. Round glass beads. Victim 1's bead was something that they picked up later in the general area but Victim 3's bead was practically wedged between her partially severed spine and skull. Almost like he wanted us to know that it's there. Holy shit, Khari, it's his calling card. Call Joe. I'm going to run back down to the morgue and see what I can get from the beads," Aziza said excitedly. "You're amazing, Khari." A shot of pleasure rolled through Khari. He was amazing. He savored the moment before answering Aziza.
"Joe is with his family," he said. "I'll come down and if we come up with anything we'll give him a call." Aziza sighed sadly.
"Yea, sorry, I should have remembered. I'll see you when you get to the morgue...and Khari, anything you chuck up you clean up." The phone clicked and Khari smiled. Maybe despite their differences...well, maybe. No reason to hang his hopes. It was time to get to business. If there was anything Khari Kaplan could be when things got down to it, it was all business.