Killer's Defeat

The morning has turned unseasonably warm for the fifth day in a row, a considerable change from the sixty-degree temps they had just weeks before.

Jerry and his men reassemble outside the Barry residence. They've spent hours searching for Janet, but she's nowhere to be found.

Jerry takes a rag from his pocket and wipes his sweaty brow. It's too hot for this fat boy to be out. Glancing up, he finds the sun blazing from the clear, blue skies. Insects harmonize in the background, adding to the hot desert feel. He sees the soil is starting to crack, and the grass is turning brown. We're only a few days into May. Jerry wipes his forehead again. I have a feeling it's going to be a scorcher of a year.

Jerry glances over to find the canines barky as they dart across the field. I hope they have better luck than we did. He wipes his brow again as he makes his way toward the house.

"I thought you boys might need some refreshments," Martha says, handing him a glass of tea.

"Much appreciated, Ma'am," The ice cubes clink against the side when Jerry takes the cup. "This sure hit the spot." He says, taking another swig. Finishing his glass, Jerry sets it aside.

"I can bring you more if you like."

Jerry rubs his belly and says, "That was plenty, thanks." Taking a notebook from his pocket, he glances up and says, "I want you to start at the beginning and tell me what happened today."

***

With the radio up high, and the wind whipping through his hair, Ben zips down the curvy back road. Two things Ben knows loud music and a long drive help him unwind after a long, stressful day.

"Damn, that woman. Damm her all to hell." He yells, slamming his hands against the wheel.

Their argument replays in his mind as he continues down the beaten path.

Storming Into the kitchen, Elizabeth slams a plate on the counter. Spinning around, she asks, "What are you thinking, serving my guests this, this mush?"

Ben glances at the dish. He thought she'd be pleased with his choice. "What's wrong with it?"

She lifts the serving spoon and then plunks it back down."I expected gourmet, not this slop."

"Elaborate restaurants serve the same dish to their affluent clientele."

"Their dishes are prepared correctly by a professional." Elizabeth eyes the plate again. "Something you're not." She shakes her head and adds, "My garbage looks more appetizing than this. You're a disgrace, Ben, a dishonor to caterers worldwide." Pointing at the plate, she scrunches her nose. "You shouldn't even be in business serving dishes like this." She waves her hand and says, "I want you to clean up your mess and go." She turns to leave, spins around, and adds, "Expect to hear from my lawyers in the morning." Eyeing the food, Elizabeth shakes her head."You are a disappointment, Ben, a big disappointment. I thought you'd do better than this."

Ben recalls the empty dishes the maid so meticulously stacked on the counter. "Everyone enjoyed their meal but you, he thinks, eyeing the road ahead.

Traveling further down, he notices a chunk of tread in the center of the road. Smaller pieces trail across the far left side. That can't be good, he thinks, slowing to a crawl.

Ben sees a rusted-out Chevy at the bottom of the hill. Pulling to the side, he slides down the grassy terrain. I hope I'm not too late.

Horrid memories from his military days flash through his mind. There was carnage everywhere he looked. Several carefully placed land mines took out over half of his crew. It won't be like that. It won't. He tries to dismiss the thoughts from his mind as he continues down the steep mountainside. I'm almost there. He thinks, weaving around a few trees.

Reaching the pickup, he glances inside to find a battered young woman lying crossways in the seat. Blood gushes from her head, arms, and legs; her eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. "I'm too late." Dropping his head, Ben turns away.

***

Joe glances around the darkened squad room to find there isn't a single soul around. You'd think I could get a lot done with no distractions. He yawns, then glances at his paper again. Joe's eyes slowly close as his head gravitates downward. Feeling himself fall, he jerks upright in his seat. His eyes close quicker, and his head tilts faster the second go-around. Joe startles awake when his head thumps on his desk. I better call it a night before I hurt myself. He thinks, rubbing the bump on his head. He's grabbing his gear when he sees the ME walking across the room.

"Where's the rest of your crew? Sharon asks.

"Rachel and Jerry were too tired to do any good, so I told them to go on home.

"Looks like you could use a little rest, too."

"I was thinking about it." Joe rubs his bump again. Looking at a paper in her hand, Joe asks, "Do you have something for us?"

"I have a few things, actually." Looking down at her paper, she begins. "I found three sets of DNA on the denim coat."

"Three?" He anxiously runs his fingers through his hair.

"Janet Smith, Sam Ganes, and your victim, Victor Melendez."

"Sam Ganes?"

"That's what my results showed."

"How did Janet end up with Sam's coat?"

"Maybe he's the one who gave her a lift."

"That's possible."

"Sam's only arrest is drug possession with intent to sell in 94. Prime Trucking hired him soon after his release, in 97, and according to the record, that's where he's continued to work."

"I'll call them in the morning."

"I already did, and they said they hadn't heard from Sam in days. The dispatcher went on to say they couldn't get a signal from his GPS or Sam's cell."

A horrid thought enters Joe's mind. She wouldn't have, she couldn't have, would she? Joe recalls Janet covered in her husband's blood. He then remembers her attacking the trucker. Jerry says he believes it was in self-defense. "Maybe Sam tried something with Janet too."

"I ran the fingerprint from your murder weapon but didn't get any hits. "The shoe print is definitely from a lady's boot, a size seven. We're running its pattern to try and narrow it down."

"I believe Janet wears a six." He searches through his papers.

"So, you do have two killers on your hand."

Or one who is trying to frame Janet, Joe thinks.

"If I find anything else, I'll let you know."

I'll notify Beth's sister before I call it a day. He dials a number and then puts it on speaker. "Yes, this is Joe with the Berryville Police Department. I need to talk to one of your patients, please; it's an urgent family matter."

"Who's the patent, sir?"

Her name is "Penny McPhee."

"Let me transfer you to her nurse."

The phone rings again. "Sunny Brook, how may I help you?"

"My name is Joe Bowers, and I'd like to talk to one of your patients, please. It's an urgent family matter."

"I'm sorry, sir, but she's no longer in our care."

"No longer in your care? She wasn't released, was she?" Joe asks, picturing the crazed lunatic covered in her husband's blood in his mind.

"Oh, heavens no. The doctor transferred to a different facility.

"Can I get the name?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not allowed to tell you which facility she was taken to with the HIPPA rules and all. I've actually told you too much as it is."

"So, you're going to make me get a warrant?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't have any other choice." With that, she hangs up the phone.