Fury From Hell (3 page)

Behind her she could hear the sound of laughter, back slapping and a loud guffaw.  Jennifer blinked and attempted to wipe the filth out of her eyes but an impossible image arrested her gaze — two eyes dripping with blood ensconced in a reptilian female-looking face.

The hallucination was accompanied by a feeling of prickly heat all over her body effectively chasing away her childhood demons.  A loud shriek pierced her ears forcing Jennifer to cover them and shut her eyes.  Then, just as suddenly, the sensation and sound stopped simultaneously.  Jennifer cautiously opened her eyes.  All she saw in front of her was the claw-like hand of her victim, Kyma Barnes.

Fully ensconced in the detective, the Fury pushed up the image of the little gun under the tarp.  Jennifer moved her eyes and saw a denser blackness further under the tarp.  She moved her hand and grasped the gun.

>> Keep it…<<

Jennifer’s mind accepted the command without question.  Still partially underneath the tarp, Jennifer rolled over onto her knees with her back towards the still laughing cops and she pocketed the gun.  The Fury wiped away all of her conscious mind’s recollection of doing so.

“You gonna stay under there all night, Holden?  Even if you don’t have a life, the rest of us do!”

“Come on, Saks, give her a break.  This is a rough one.  The victim was beaten, raped and sodomized.  I had to step away for a minute to get my stomach under control.” 

Detective Yearwood bent down and held out a clean tissue to Jennifer.  She took it gratefully and began wiping her face from a sitting position not trusting herself to stand just yet.

She pushed herself up and looked down at Kyma’s body and saw it as if for the first time in sharp detail.  She went and stood by the victim’s feet and angled her head to take in what she saw.  Grabbing her notebook she noted the angle of the victim’s legs — both still tented but the right one bent outward more than the left.

He’s probably a righty; he used his left knee to separate her legs and probably leaned on his left arm to balance.

She leaned over and sure enough found indentations in the hard-packed earth.

“Hey, did anybody take a cast of the indentations on her right side?  We may get lucky and get a print out of that.”

“Holden, of course I did that.  I’m not a rookie anymore,” Saks said in a pained voice.

Still observing, Holden looked at Kyma’s arms and face.  Frozen on Barnes’ ravaged face Jennifer swore she saw satisfaction.  She noted the observation down and continued her investigation.  Squatting down near the bloodied hand over the cement, she inspected it.  There was a lot of blood.  Most of it probably the victim’s but Jennifer’s gut told her some of the perp’s blood was there, too.  The prickly heat sensation ran up her spine and her eyes were drawn to the victim’s breasts.  They looked mangled.  Getting really close, Jennifer pulled out her penlight and directed it around the black and blue aureole.

“Saks, did you get a saliva sample from her left breast?”

“A what?  Are you crazy? He was just twisting and pulling at her and don’t you see the knife marks all over her stomach?”

“Yeah, I do but you didn’t see the minute teeth marks on her breast.  What?  Are you afraid if you look at her breasts too long you’ll get a woody?”

The other cops smirked and a few soft jeers could be heard.  Still very close to Jennifer, Yearwood said, “Good one, Holden.  Get ‘em where it hurts.”

“Get over here and do your job, Saks.  Maybe with
real
police work we can actually catch the perp you let get away,” Jennifer snapped off her light and stood up.  She felt strong and secure in herself which was a generally unheard of feeling for her.  Jennifer shook it off and looked down at Kyma Barnes’ remains.

“Nasty way to die.”

“It is,” Yearwood responded.

“I’m going to get this bastard,” Jennifer said with a ferocity that made the hair on the back of Yearwood’s neck rise.  He looked at her.  Something about her was…
off
.

“Holden, you okay tonight?  You seem…different.”

“Different?  Different how?  I’m not the one who likes reading the obituaries every damned day,” she said, her eyes slitting dangerously.

Yearwood took an imperceptible step back and decided to ignore the slight.

“Dunno.  You seem really on top of your game tonight — I’m liking it…a lot.”

Appeased, Jennifer smiled.  Yet, to Yearwood, her smile had a feral quality to it but he decided to keep that to himself.  In a lightning fast move, Jennifer gripped his hand and shook it.  It was a firm, manly, shake.

“Thanks, Yearwood.  You don’t know how much I appreciate your observation.”

He gazed down into her eyes and noticed for the umpteenth time that her eyes had lighter brown flecks in them.  He shoved down his feelings again but felt a slight surge of energy and hope.  His hand was still wrapped around hers and he took a deep breath consciously releasing the soft hand that suddenly seemed so extraordinarily strong.

“Looks like you’ve got this case well underway, Holden.  I’ll let you have at it.”

He stepped back trying to slow his racing heart and hide the growing excitement in his nether region.  He nodded at her and the other officers and walked off briskly heading towards the wire fence.

Jennifer turned back to the scene and looked for more clues that would help her find the man who did this.  While working, it came to her that she had finally found an overriding desire to do her job.  Too stunned to deal with the revelation, she put it on the back burner to mull over later.

Deep inside Jennifer’s psyche, the Fury smiled at Jennifer’s realization.  It was no revelation; it was merely the subtle prodding of the demon.  The Fury hoped this host was ready for what more was to come.

***

November 1
^st
, 10:30 A.M.

Later that morning, Jennifer walked into her apartment at half-past ten.  Her legs ached and her back was on fire from combing every inch of the construction site for clues.  There were no leads other than the victim herself.  Walking through the living room and into her dining room, Jennifer unloaded her pockets.  She was startled when her fingers brushed against the blunt-nosed metallic cylinder that could only be a gun — and it wasn’t one of her eight guns from the feel of it.

Realization dawned and the color drained from her face.  She must have taken it from the crime scene.  She had somehow confiscated evidence!  How she did it, yet had no recollection of it, she had no clue but returning it would be a
bad
idea.  It would prove to the guys how incompetent she really was.  For some inexplicable reason, Jennifer felt driven to work on this case and solve it.  In her six years with the NYPD, this was the first time in her career that she felt galvanized.  She wasn’t going to let anything stop her from finding Kyma Barnes’ killer!  Resolved, Jennifer pulled the gun out of her pocket and inspected it.  It was a Smith & Wesson Bodyguard 380 pistol.  It was relatively new on the market and a standard issue for mall cops and security guards.

What a great little gun for those two-bit wanna-be cops…

Jennifer cleaned the gun with the chamois cloth from her cleaning kit.  She removed the magazine and put it in the small metal safe where she stored all of her ammo.  Jennifer knew that all remnants of the killer’s prints would have been lost by now since she had muddied the handle with her prints and vomit.  With a resigned shrug, she decided to add the gun to her collection which was housed in a locked wooden cabinet deep in the back of her semi walk-in closet.  Satisfied all was secure, she went to shower away the stress of the long night.

The Fury beamed; its second command had been taken and acted upon successfully.

***

The first few days passed by in a flurry of activity for Jennifer.   Breaking the news to Kyma Barnes’ family the following morning was nothing short of heart-wrenching for Holden.  She remembered the way she had turned off and hadn’t fully engaged herself in her demanding job; sometimes, it was just too intense.

Jennifer pulled up to the curb by the victim’s parents’ home and sat for a full 10 minutes with the car running before shutting off the engine.  As she walked up to the neat modern brick multi-family building with snazzy chrome and glass balconies for each unit she hoped Kyma’s mother would choose not to use her balcony in an illicit way.  She rang Mrs. Barnes’ buzzer and waited two heartbeats.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Barnes? My name is Detective Holden with the NYPD.  Can I come up and speak to you?

“Ah…what is this about?”

“Mrs. Barnes, I’d rather speak to you in person.  If you don’t want me coming up, can you please come down to speak with me?  I won’t take up too much of your time.”

After a pregnant pause, Jennifer heard the door click open.  She pushed the bronzed- edged chrome door with its block glass diamond shaped cutouts open and headed for the elevators.  In no time at all, she was standing in front of 5B.  Before she could press the buzzer, the door opened.  A young man with wide shoulders but a wiry thin physique stood before her with pinched lips.

“Detective Holden, I presume?”

Jennifer nodded.  “And you are?”

“Gerald Palmer.  Won’t you come in?”

He backed up and allowed Jennifer to enter.  She scanned the room and noticed the well-appointed furniture that was most definitely
not
from IKEA.  The clean lines were European but of a finer quality than the large franchise she frequented.  There were no signs that Mrs. Barnes’ furniture had been put together with a hammer, nails and a few random pieces of box tape.  A worried looking woman in her fifties came quickly into view interrupting Jennifer’s thoughts.

“Detective Holden?  Please come into the living room.  It’s more comfortable than here in the foyer.  Gerald can get you something to drink.  Can’t you, Gerald?”

“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Barnes.”  Jennifer strode into the living room and tried not to stare at the tasteful original artwork peppering the exposed brick walls nor the fluffy lamb’s wool throw rug on the floor in front of the soft beige leather sofa.  Remembering what her mentor told her years ago when she first became a detective, she did not dally and delivered her message.

“I’m very sorry to tell you Mrs. Barnes but your daughter was found dead early this morning.  She was murdered.  If you would like to come down to the morgue and ID the body I can take you, or, you can follow me there.  Either way, I will make sure you get home safely.”

Jennifer watched as Mrs. Barnes’ eyes glazed over.  Gerald took four long strides and was by her side before she collapsed onto the soft rug.  He dragged her to the sofa and made her sit.  Still standing, he took several ragged breaths himself before a keening sound came from his parted lips.

“Mr. Palmer?  What was your relationship to Ms. Barnes?”

In a faraway voice, he said, “She was my girlfriend.  I was going to ask her to be my wife when she got home last night…”

He blinked once then again and sunk to his knees as the first of his sobs began.  Kyma’s mother was pale and not a sound could be heard from her.  Jennifer panicked.  She took out her phone and dialed 9-1-1.  Paramedics were needed…
stat!

With the emergency response call completed, Jennifer found the kitchen and filled two glasses with water.  She rushed back into the living room.  When she tried to offer them water, she realized that they were both in deeper stages of shock than when she had left the room.  She set the useless glasses of water on the coffee table and stood unsure of what to do with her hands.  Gerald was now doubled over with his forehead on the fluffy rug bawling and pounding his left fist on the floor slowly.  However, Kyma’s mother was worse.  Her eyes had rolled and only the whites were showing.  Jennifer sprinted over to her and checked to make sure her tongue was not hampering her breathing.

“God-damned ambulance.  Hurry up!”  She made a face as she pinched open the woman’s mouth by squeezing her cheeks.

Belatedly realizing she should have brought back-up, Jennifer hoped that she could manage the pair until the paramedics arrived.  Just then she heard the whirring of the ambulance’s siren.  Breathing a sigh of relief Jennifer held down the fort for the next 5 minutes.  She went between both family members and made sure that they were breathing and did not injure themselves.

***

The second ambulance’s doors slammed enclosing Gerald Palmer’s drugged form in a cocoon of tranquility.  Mrs. Barnes had to be more heavily sedated as she began to jerk and writhe on the sofa within moments of the EMT personnel arriving.

“You did pretty okay in there Officer,” said the male paramedic.

“It’s Detective, Detective Holden.  Thanks…my first solo notification, no less.”

He whistled and shook his head.

“And you had two of them.  Wow.  Good thing they didn’t flip out on you.  I’ve seen some families take it out on the messenger.  You’re pretty darned lucky.  You following, us or what?”

Jennifer stood and stared wide-eyed at him.  It had never occurred to her that
she
was in any danger.  Forcing air back into her lungs, she nodded.

“Yeah, I’m following. Didn’t get anything out of them.  I’ve got no other leads and they’ve got to know something.”

He nodded sympathetically and ambled around the side of the EMT emergency vehicle while calling over his shoulder, “Hope so, for your sake.  See you at Methodist.”

***

After being a permanent fixture at the hospital for thirty-six hours, Jennifer was finally cleared to talk to Gerald.  Her eyes flicked past the red-plastic covered mini Bible under his hand on top of the stark white hospital sheet.  He clutched it and hid it from her view when he noticed her staring at it.

She nodded towards the now hidden book.

“You get comfort from that?”

“Don’t you?”

She shrugged, “I asked you, first.”

He frowned.  Then, his lips turned up sardonically.  “I’m finally in a situation where I need my faith and what happens?  The one sent to help has not a drop of it.”  His eyes held no jaded mirth or sympathy for her.  They simply contained a hint of accusation and a heaping load of dejection.  “Well, let’s get on with it, Detective.  Religion and State don’t mix, right?  What do you need of me?”