Ice Where There Was None Page 5

  Slowing the cruiser as it approached the address from the 911 caller, the two craned their necks to get a better look. Since it was high afternoon there were no hidden or shadowed places to worry about. The house’s porch was visible at all points and showed signs of a potential struggle. Joe switched on the lights on top of the cruiser and pulled to a stop in front of the home. Both waited silently as they assessed the situation.

  The home was a standard home in this neighborhood: stucco siding, sparse vegetation in the front, a small lot that was only a few feet on either side from the near identical neighbors’ on both sides. The porch, which they were focusing more of their attention on, was a small area to the left of the front door. It had no more room than to hold a couple of lawn chairs or a single loveseat-type bench. It currently held two folding camp chairs that were stained dark with indeterminate liquid. One was askew and leaning back against the stucco. The remnants of a broken green, glass beer bottle or more were around the base of the chairs. A standing ashtray was on its side, the contents spilled out in a swath that looked to have been walked through and disturbed.

  “Let’s check it,” Officer Obvari said and opened his door knowing he didn’t need to wait for a confirmation from his partner.

  The two officers slowly approached the porch, keeping one eye there and the other on a swivel constantly checking their surroundings. They made it to the porch without incident or interruption.

  “You hear that?” Salk asked.

  “Yeah. Nothing.”

  “Yeah.” Joe put his hand on his firearm.

  Ben mimicked the move and said in a loud and steady voice, “Orlando Police. We received a report of a disturbance at this address. If anyone is inside, please respond.”

  The two waited with shallow breaths, straining to hear if a response came from within. They both knew they couldn’t do anything without probable cause.

  “Joe,” Ben said in a low tone as he pointed to the camp chair that sat askew. “That look like blood to you?”

  Officer Salk looked, nodded and said in a matching low tone, “Call it in. We need to enter.” Then in a louder voice, “Orlando Police. We have probable cause to believe an incident took place here. If you do not open the door in five seconds, we will enter.”

  Officer Obvari turned his back to the door, reaching for his shoulder mic as he did. He called into dispatch with an update and requested support. The two looked at each other, mentally aware that more than five seconds had passed. When no response from inside was heard, Ben stepped up to the door. It was always his job to kick the door open since during an event two years ago, Joe nearly dislocated his hip trying to kick a barricaded door. Ben tried to argue but Joe never wavered.

  Officer Obvari reached his right leg back and brought it forward in a textbook kick to the area just left of the door handle. The door swung abruptly in with a loud crack as the jam splintered and gave way. He continued his forward momentum in, weapon drawn and surveyed the room as Officer Salk entered on his heels, surveying the other side of the room.

  As one they yelled, “Orlando Police. Come out and show your hands.”

  They waited in the living room for a short period, but hearing nothing, they continued further into the interior. They cleared the kitchen just off the living room together, and as they started towards the hall they could hear sirens in the distance. This bolstered a little of their courage as they knew backup was en route.

  Again, announcing their presence in loud voices and not hearing any response, they made their way down a short hallway. Their weapons were pointed forward and their eyes down the sights. Wherever they looked, their weapon pointed the way. After clearing the first empty bedroom and a small linen closet, they neared the third door in the hall. Still no sound from within, so with one hand on the doorknob and a glance to his partner, Joe opened the door and swept his weapon around the room. Behind him Ben said, “Clear,” when he saw nothing but a disheveled bed in the middle of the room. The view into the ensuite bathroom was clear from their vantage point due to the placement of the mirror. The bathroom also had the benefit of having no door on the hinge.

  Before the two holstered their weapons they made their way forward to the closet, checked it, and saw it was empty except for a few shirts and shorts in a pile on the floor. They continued to the sliding glass door that led from the bedroom into the back yard. When Joe went to reach for the handle, Officer Obvari tapped his arm twice. Freezing in place, Joe looked to where his partner pointed. On the handle were two blood colored fingerprints and a small smear of crimson on the adjacent glass.

  Nodding, Joe moved his hand away and used his foot to push the door open from the bottom of the frame. It was awkward, but it did the trick of preserving the evidence on the handle.

  They stepped out into the yard, which was slightly overgrown with grass and had a nearly completely rusted grill near the corner wall of the house. In the back corner was a shed that had seen a lot of Florida summers. The color on the metal was faded completely white, and what wasn’t white showed heavy oxidation.

  Keeping one eye on the shed and the other on their surroundings, the two made their way across the yard to it. When Joe was close enough to put his hand on the handle, he heard from the house the sounds of other officers announcing their presence. Not wanting to startle any potential dangers or witnesses within, he didn’t answer the other officers. Neither did Ben.

  Putting one hand on the handle after checking it for any signs of blood or other obvious evidence, he said, “Orlando Police, we are coming in.” Then he swung the door out towards him wide which allowed Ben to survey ahead of him.

  However, Ben only made it a step forward before he stopped in his tracks. His weapon in his hands felt heavy and his arms started to drop. His weapon sights were nearly pointed at the floor of the shed by the time Joe saw what Ben saw.

  Joe also lowered his weapon sights.

  “Damn it …”

  In the middle of the shed was a woman, encased completely in ice. She wore a tattered and dirty t-shirt that was white at one point. Her shorts were basketball style and had a hole in the side. On her feet were a pair of old flip-flops and her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She stood upright and stared emptily at the two officers. Her head was at least two inches above her neck, where they had been joined previously. The same was true for her arms to her shoulders and her legs to her hips.

  She looked like a toy doll that some kid had pulled apart.

  On her chest was a small three-by-five card that had been safety-pinned in place. Despite his desire not to, Joe leaned in to read it because he saw the names printed on it.

  There, in near perfect penmanship, was his name. And Ben’s. Someone wrote this note to us, he thought. Son of a bitch.

  Ben saw where his partner was looking and gasped when he read the note.

  “Joe, what the hell, man?! Seriously, what the hell?!”

  “I … I have no idea,” was all he could answer.

  The note said, ‘Joe and Ben, I know you are building the tension by waiting to come see me, but enough is enough. Stop playing games and come to where I am. I know you know it. XOXO’

  Another Orlando officer stepped up to them and said, “The house appears clear, what happened here—” His words cut off as he looked past the two to the shed interior. Looking at Joe and Ben he said, “Damn, guys. Cap is going to be pissed.”

  Chapter Nine

  “This doesn’t make sense, Joe. You gotta see how this all looks from our side of the table.”

  Joe chuckled. “‘Our side of the table.’ Is that what it sounds like to the people who usually sit in this chair? Gotta say, I can see why there is some animosity.”

  Captain Greggory spun around from the glass door leading out of Interrogation Room three. They were in here because the Captain, along with Detectives Hobbes and Doyle, wanted to speak with Joe and Ben without interruption. They made a point to repeatedly say that this wasn’t a reprimand�
��just a simple attempt to get their collective heads around the events taking place. Ben had voiced an objection stating that this still felt like an interrogation.

  “Dammit, Joe! This is not the time for snarky comments.”

  Officer Salk pursed his lips and nodded low. “You’re right, Captain. Sorry. I make awkward jokes when I’m uncomfortable.”

  “Yeah,” Officer Obvari added. “And this, Captain, is making us both pretty damn uncomfortable.”

  The Captain breathed heavily from his nose and replied, “Look, fellas, I know this is rough, but just like Hobbes said, you gotta see this from our side of things. You two have been at ground zero for every body found. The ME found a note with your names on it inside a body’s nose for Christ’s sake.”

  Ben sat up at the last part.

  “Wait, what? We didn’t know about …” he let the words fall off as he looked around to the three others in the room. Aside from an equally confused look on his partner’s face, the other two detectives looked like they had already heard this bombshell.

  “Yeah, quite honestly we didn’t tell you because we didn’t know what to do with it,” said Detective Hobbes, leaning back in his chair.

  Detective Doyle added, “We feel pretty certain you had nothing to do with the deaths because we backtracked your movements for the past few months—”

  Joe stood and leaned across the table in one sudden move.

  “‘Feel pretty certain’? You better damn well feel a lot more certain than that, and what the hell?” He spun to the Captain. “You tracked our movements? How long have we been suspects, Captain?”

  “Now, you know this is just proced—”

  “Don’t you dare call this procedure!” Ben yelled, cutting him off. “We’ve been unwitting suspects in this thing? For months?” Looking Detective Hobbes in the eyes, he continued, “Really, Liam? You’ve been to my house. Your kids played in my backyard, and you have been …” A look of hurt and disgust shadowed his face as he leaned back and crossed his arms, staring off into the middle space between the table and the observation mirror.

  “Look, Ben,” said Detective Hobbes. “You know I gotta chase down all threads on this thing.” Seeing no response from Ben, he turned to Joe. “Joe, you see that, right? I get that you didn’t like not knowing, but would knowing have made it better? Think about it. We needed to see you unaware in order to see what you guys do.”

  “Joe, Ben,” the Captain said, looking from one to the other, “you two are the finest examples of patrol officers this city has, no doubt. I ordered these two to follow up in the hopes that you were everything I knew you were. Upstanding officers. Please, let’s just …” He crossed around the table, tapped Detective Hobbes on the shoulder to indicate he should move, then sat in his seat. He leaned across the table, resting on his elbows, hands clasped together. “Let’s just get to the bottom of this, and we will deal with the hurt later. OK?”

  Joe turned to Ben and used the back of his hand to lightly smack him on the shoulder to get him to acknowledge. Ben turned, looked at Joe, said nothing. They both nodded slowly and turned to their Captain.

  “Yeah, sir, you’re right,” Joe began. “We are hurt, but we get it. Seriously.”

  Assessing them both, not moving from his position, their Captain nodded in agreement. “Good. Now let’s get somewhere, shall we?”

  Detective Doyle said, “Good, now to the real question at hand. Do you know who this killer is?”

  Joe and Ben both shook their heads and held a shrug. “No idea,” said Joe.

  “Well, it seems they know you. They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make sure you two are the first on scene. A lot of trouble,” he said leaning on the word. “Then there is the note.”

  Ben took a deep breath and said, “You’re asking us if we might know who is abducting women, dressing them up, freezing them, arranging their bodies, setting up a display, and ultimately gaming our dispatch system in order to make sure we are first on scene. I’m guessing that rounds out your line of questions?”

  The Captain smirked and let out a small chuckle as he said, “Yeah, that does seem to be what we are asking. Though, to be fair, yours makes us sound a little dense.”

  Ben smirked in response.

  Joe jumped in before the detectives could retort. “I think what my partner here …” Joe smacked Ben hard in the chest, “is trying to say is it’d be pretty unique to know someone like this, right? I think we’d recognize someone able to pull something like this off. I’d imagine there would be a sign or two.”

  His partner chuckled. “Yeah.” Then changing his voice to an exaggerated one, he said, “Um, yes, Officers, don’t mind me having large moving equipment, different women who enter my house and never leave, and an industrial freezer just lying around. Ha ha, doesn’t everyone?”

  “Alright, alright,” Captain Greggory held up a hand. “Enough. We know no one would just come out and show you the bodies. We just need you to think back through your dealings with people and see if anyone stood out in such a way that this would seem plausible for them. That’s it.”

  Joe and Ben looked at each other and let out another small chuckle. Joe said, “Captain, no joking here, but we don’t exactly see a lot of upstanding people.”

  “Yeah,” Ben added. “We aren’t trying to be funny, but I think we would be better off trying to remember the people who absolutely wouldn’t do something like this.”

  Detective Hobbes spoke up from his standing position just behind the Captain. “We get that. But this is personal to you both. This person named you specifically. There is also the trend of the bodies and how they are dressed.”

  Joe lifted his eyebrows. “Dressed?”

  “Yeah, each victim has been dressed in what could be considered the stereotypical outfit for each location they were found. The jogging clothes in the park. The dress for the church. The pedicure setup for the nail salon. All indicative of where they were found.”

  “Damn,” Ben said and hung his head low enough to tap the table with his forehead. “We totally missed that.”

  “That doesn’t mean we know who this is, though,” Joe added.

  The other Detective said, “Right, but think about the clues here.” He held up his fist and raising a finger for each point said, “Ice, that’s a big one. The clothes matching the surroundings. The locations and …” He stopped, slowly lowering his hand as his eyes darted around the ground, not looking at any one person. “Wait a sec …”

  The other four in the room looked at the detective, not saying anything. They could see he was attempting to process something they could not see.

  “These are stereotypes,” he finally said.

  Hobbes answered, “Yeah, we already said that—”

  “Right,” he was cut off by the Detective who started to stand, his voice rising a little in pitch. “But these are female stereotypes. Think about it.”

  More stares from the others in the room.

  “No, see, the park and the church and the salon and—”

  This time Hobbes cut him off. “Oh, man, you’re right!”

  The other three were still confused, as evidenced by their facial expressions.

  “We noticed the clothes on the women and where they were, but we didn’t take the next step to point out that everything about this is a stereotype. Typically, more women jog. More women go to church. More women go to the salon …”

  Ben looked up and said, still with a puzzled look, “You mean this is like some misogynist thing where someone who wants us to see the stereotypes?”

  “Yes!” both Detectives said at once.

  “But what about the ice?”

  “Maybe that’s just how they like to keep the scene still and undisturbed?” the Captain offered.

  “Right!” Hobbes agreed. “They want you two specifically to find these women in the exact spot with the exact clothes in the exact way. That’s gotta mean something to you two!”

  Joe looked at his
partner, then looked at each of the faces across the table from him before saying, “For the life of me, I have no idea what that means.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Thanks! Have good night!”

  She waved as her friends drove off in search of their next spot for the evening, wherever held the highest likelihood of finding a guy that wasn’t a douche, or ‘skeezy’ as her friend Diane liked to say. She asked to be dropped off at her place because there was an early meeting in the morning she couldn’t miss if she didn’t want to give her manager another reason to fire her.

  She turned away from the parking lot of her apartment building as the last glimpse of her friend’s taillights rounded the far corner. Walking up the sidewalk, under the tall lamps, she took out her cell and dialed a number she knew by heart. On the third ring she heard an all too familiar greeting.

  “Uh, hi, I’d like to place a delivery order.”

  * * *

  I don’t know what I see in this one.

  Is it her hair?

  Why would it be her hair? That’s stupid.

  No, it isn’t stupid, I guess. She does have lovely hair.

  Are you going to shave it?

  What? Why would I shave it?

  I don’t know … seems like something to do, I guess.

  No, I want to stick to the plan. The plan is good. The plan works.

  Right, the plan.

  Who walks so slowly while talking on the phone? Can’t she do two things at once? Is she terribly uncoordinated?

  I would think after how many times a week she calls China Garden she’d have this down.

  She doesn’t deviate from her order. It’s always the same.

  * * *

  “Yeah, I’d like the sesame chicken with extra broccoli, white rice, and an egg roll. Right, yeah, and a ginger ale. Good memory. Thanks.”