Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night) (2 page)

“I can’t believe you’ve been able to keep your identity secret for so long.”

“In five hundred years of existing here, only a handful has ever come to know the truth. You are one of a very minute number, Tomes,” Corin replied. “Although, there is something different this time that leads me to wonder if the fates might have had a hand in your discovery.”

“The fates….” Tomes sneered. “What is fate anyhow? And what does any of it
matter? My Louisa’s gone, and life no longer matters. If you killed me now, it would be a blessing.”

“You’ll find meaning again, in time. You can’t give up on life. Louisa wouldn’t
want that.” Corin offered Tomes a hand and pulled him to his feet.

“You sound like a shrink, von Vadim.”

“Well, after the scene I’ve just witnessed, I’d say you could use a session or two,” Corin joked.

Tomes offered no comeback.

“Now, if we’re settled here, I should head out and search for this new arrival before another life is taken.”

Tomes grabbed his arm. “Remember, Corin, the one who took the life of my
wife is mine for the killing, and mine alone.”

Corin nodded his understanding and vanished into the night on the mist of
the wind.

* * * *

Tomes stood alone in the darkness, surrounded by the dead. He collapsed to his knees and continued to grieve. In the somber aftermath of the storm, the night creatures sang their songs to the sullen man and wept with him in his state of perpetual sorrow.

He’d never forget Louisa, nor did he ever wish to.
She’d meant the world to him, and losing her left him to question what life could ever offer him again. For no matter how much time might pass, he feared his heart would never heal. How could he continue without her? And with that dismal thought, he gave in to his sorrow and fell back in the muck. Tonight he would simply cry.

CHAPTER ONE

Murder at Jaffler Farm

Sheriff Allen Pierson sat at his desk, thumbing through the case file of Louisa Jaffler. Now day two after the murder, he had to admit the investigation had stalled. He’d just received the medical examiner’s preliminary report, complete with the autopsy findings, but regrettably, the outcome hadn’t told him very much.

A little after midnight on the night of the horrific crime, a 911 dispatcher transferred a call to the station from Angelique Jaffler—sister-in-law of the victim—who claimed Louisa Jaffler had been murdered. Upon notification, Sheriff Pierson headed straightaway to Hixton, where the Jafflers resided. At the junction of Old Denaud Road and the farm entrance, he spotted a patrol car. Officer Jake Strutherford waved him down with a flashlight.

“I’ll show you to the site.”

Sheriff Pierson followed him to the crime scene, just past the farm near a wood-line of tall, white pines. He pulled off behind two more patrol cars that were sitting off to the right side of the road with their lights flashing. Officer Bob Tanner stood several feet in front of one of the vehicles, in the direct path of the headlights, staring toward the woods as if paralyzed. The sheriff followed the officer’s gaze and realized what had made such an impact on him.

“Dear Lord.” He’d not soon forget the heart-wrenching scene.

A man sat on the ground, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms, cradling the victim’s lifeless body in his arms. His face devoid of emotion, he rocked her back and forth like a mother would a child.

Officer Strutherford approached.

“What do we know?” the sheriff asked.

“Her name is Louisa Jaffler. That’s her husband with her. She was found by
him and his sister.” The officer pointed out Angelique’s position and motioned for her to come over.

Pierson turned his attention to her.

“I’m Angelique Jaffler. Tomes is my brother. He’s been this way since we found her,” she told him, clutching a flashlight.

“Has he said anything?” Pierson asked.

“Only to go away. He refuses to let her go,” Strutherford answered as Officer Tanner joined them next to the SUV.

The sheriff was worried that the husband might very well be in shock. “Did
you call for an ambulance…EMS?”

“George has them on standby,” Tanner pointed to another officer who appeared
busy, on the phone in his patrol car. “Since she was already dead, we were waiting to get your input,” Bob explained.

“Sorry Ms. Jaffler.” Strutherford apologized for Tanner’s bluntness.

Tanner continued. “We knew you were on your way. And we’ll only need them for transport.”

“I’m thinking of the husband. I think we’d better get some paramedics out
here. Taking care of Mr. Jaffler is our priority right now.” He wasn’t sure how to properly handle this sort of psychological issue, and thought it best someone trained in the medical field tend to the delicate situation.

“I’ll let George know,” Tanner headed toward the car.

“Should we try to force him away from the scene?” Strutherford asked. “He’s disturbing the evidence.”

“No. I don’t think so. Just leave him. We’ll wait on
EMS. We certainly don’t want to cause more damage. It might take him some time to come to terms with what’s happened.”

With no further delay, Sheriff Pierson made a call to the station, making
arrangements to alert the only crime team at his disposal. That small group consisted of Forensics, which also covered bordering counties, and Dr. Jason Berg—head pathologist at Black River Falls Memorial Hospital, who also served as the county medical examiner. Jackson County had never needed a homicide division, but with this unexpected murder, it seemed that times had changed in their tranquil little area of the globe, and not for the better. For now, he’d ride solo and handle the investigative responsibilities himself.

When his call was done, he instructed Officer Tanner to head over to the farm
entrance and direct the paramedics to the crime scene when they arrived. In the meantime, he and the others kept a close watch on Tomes Jaffler, but left him to his grief. This was, after all, the young man’s wife lying dead in his arms. Pierson couldn’t imagine what Tomes was experiencing, he wouldn’t pretend to. But seeing him out there, suffering so cruelly, told him one thing—he was either very much in love or consumed by guilt.

The sheriff didn’t think he looked the part of a killer, but a crime of passion
still had to be ruled out. Looks, after all, could be deceiving, and quarrels got out of hand with tempers flaring from embers to full-fledged roars in a matter of seconds. He’d seen it happen before. Not to the extent of murder, per se, but wildly out of hand all the same.

While they waited for
EMS to arrive, he took the opportunity to question Angelique Jaffler. A beauty in her mid-twenties, with long, sable hair that fell down her back, she’d said very little up to this point. Left to handle matters since her brother was understandably unable to, Sheriff Pierson could see that she held back her own breakdown.

He pulled a small notepad from his pocket and jotted down the date and
time—July twentieth, 12:46 a.m.—and her responses, listening to not only what she said, but observing her reactions. Despite the tragic circumstances of the night, he found her very calm and collected.

“Tomes, Louisa, and myself, we all retired to our rooms around eleven,” she
recalled. “I read for a while before falling asleep, waking abruptly at 11:42 to the sound of a woman’s scream. I know the precise time because the first thing I did was look at the clock sitting on my nightstand,” she explained. “I rushed out and met Tomes in the hall. He’d also heard the scream, telling me that Louisa wasn’t in their room. He said her name…knowing.”

“Knowing?” Sheriff Pierson needed clarification.

“I think he knew it was her scream and feared the worst. Anyway, Tomes grabbed a flashlight from his room, this one.” She held it up. “And we hurried outside to look for her. We found her here five, or maybe ten, minutes later. It’s hard to be exact. Everything happened so fast.”

“What led you down the road, away from the farm?”

“Tomes was sure the scream had come from this direction, so we headed toward the road. We knew we were going the right way when he found her hair clip a short distance up the driveway.”

“Is Tomes the one who found her?” he asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, he was. But I hope you’re not suggesting he had anything to do with this. We both were—”

The glare of headlights alerted them to Officer Tanner’s return with an
ambulance following.

“That was fast. They must have been close by. I need to take care of this.”
Pierson excused himself to meet the paramedics and enlighten them on the sensitive matter at hand.

Allowing
EMS full access to do their job, he, Angelique, and the officers stood in the background and watched while the paramedics managed to convince Tomes to release Louisa’s lifeless body.

Acceding, Tomes reluctantly laid his wife on the ground. He was gentle,
treating her body like a fragile china doll. Illuminated by the moonlight, her fair skin held a pale-blue hue. In contrast, her bright auburn hair spilled around her face in thick, lustrous waves. Dressed in nothing more than a sheer nightgown that left nothing to the imagination, it revealed the outline of what had been a fit, vivacious body.

“Let’s get her covered up,” the sheriff instructed Bob. It was the decent thing
to do. Forensics would probably have a conniption, but the crime scene had already been disturbed, so he didn’t see any harm.

He glanced over at the emergency technicians who were examining their
patient at the back of the ambulance and started that way, but was detoured by another vehicle arriving on the scene. He was glad to see his second in command, Deputy Rudy Wilkins, and relieved it wasn’t the media. At any given moment, news crews might show up and throw the otherwise calm, and so far controlled investigation, into utter chaos. And that worried him.

Touching base with Rudy, he brought him up to speed, and finally made his
way over to the ambulance where Angelique stood next to her brother, comforting him. He observed for a moment, finding Tomes upset, but alert and levelheaded.

“Are you up for answering a few questions, Mr. Jaffler?”

“I don’t know, Sheriff,” Angelique spoke for him. “He’s not—”

“No, it’s okay, Angel,” Tomes cut her off. “I want to know who did this.”

“That’s what we’re trying to determine. Can you tell me what happened, what led you out here?” Pierson opened his notepad, pen in hand.

“A scream woke me…Louisa’s scream. I noticed she was gone and rushed out
to find her, meeting up with Angel in the hall. We hurried outside to look for her and found her here.”

“Ms. Jaffler stated you were the one who found her body…that you were sure
the scream had come from this direction.”

“That’s right. I knew the sound had carried from the road, so naturally, that’s
the direction I headed. When I saw her clip, from her hair, I ran on up the drive and started this way. I was just about to turn back, thinking I’d gone too far, when I noticed her nightgown near the tree line.”

“Just one scream?” the sheriff confirmed.

“Yes,” Angelique spoke out. “Only one scream.”

Sheriff Pierson had no cause to consider Tomes Jaffler a suspect, but the fact
that he seemed to know right where to find the body, so far from the house, bothered him.

“We were too late,” Tomes mumbled. “Just too late. She was already dead
when I found her.”

“Can’t this wait till morning, Sheriff?” Angelique took a protective stand for
her brother. “Can’t you see he’s not up for this right now? He’s going through hell. If you don’t mind, I really need to get him to the house.”

“It can wait,” the sheriff agreed. He asked the paramedics to escort the Jafflers
to the farmhouse. He understood that they needed some time to absorb the shock and collect themselves, especially Tomes. This had to be a nightmare for him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tomes stated. “I’m not leaving her.”

“She’s gone, Tomes, and we need to let the police do their jobs,” Angelique urged.

“I’m staying. I need answers, who did this, and why.” Tomes held his position
and remained on the scene until they took his wife’s body away almost two hours later.

Bringing his thoughts back to the present, Sheriff Pierson leaned back in his
chair and groaned, stumped by the whole ordeal. He scanned the medical examiner’s report, stopping where it mentioned a chemical imbalance in the blood with unusual cell activity.

Strange. An illness wasn’t mentioned.

His gaze then fell on the words
chronically anemic
—another mystery in itself—with no visible injuries to account for the substantial blood loss. The only marks found on the victim’s body were two, three to four millimeter puncture wounds on the left side of her neck. Dr. Berg had suggested needle insertions caused the marks, perhaps used to draw blood from the body, but Sheriff Pierson needed more than just speculation. He observed a notation the doctor had made in the margin: “inconclusive pending forensic analysis.”