No Grace, page 4
"You could try the beginning?" he said, smiling. "How's your mom?"
"Not great," Valerie said, sighing.
"Is the treatment not working with Doctor Robertson?"
Valerie looked Tom in the eyes. She couldn't bring herself to tell him that her own mother was in the FBI's line of sight. Nor could she find it within herself to explain that her mother may have been involved in her biological dad's murder.
"Let's... Let's change the subject," Valerie said. "Whatever is cooking smells delicious."
Tom looked momentarily frustrated. Valerie knew those frustrations well. They had recently reconciled, but there was still a lingering problem between them. Tom often told Valerie he felt shut out from what was going on in her head, and Valerie felt the walls of stress pushing in whenever he asked. But she couldn't tell him. She just couldn't.
"It should smell nice," Tom said, seemingly breaking away from the frustration. "I've been cooking it for three hours."
"What is it?" Valerie said, moving over towards the pots bubbling on the stove. She move her hand to lift one of the lids to take a look.
"No, no, no, no," Tom laughed. "It'll be ready in forty minutes. For now, I want you to get comfy, pop open a bottle of wine, and stretch out on the couch. Pick a movie or something."
Valerie loved the sound of all that. It sounded like a normal life, a life far away from the drama of the FBI and her father's death. But she was starting to believe that normal lives were only for the blessed. She felt cursed.
Tom put his arm around Valerie and she felt a surge of love for him. He was her rock, her safe place away from the madness of the world. She leaned in close and pressed her lips against his softly.
The kiss was more than just their lips meeting. It was an act of defiance against all that had been swirling around them for so long. It was a moment of pure bliss, in which Valerie could forget everything else and just be with Tom, without worry or fear.
As they kissed, Valerie felt like she was floating away on a cloud - away from the darkness that surrounded her life and into a dream-like paradise where nothing else mattered but the kiss between them. Every little detail seemed to come alive - the smell of Tom's cologne mixed with the scent of cooking food, the soft music playing in the background, even the feel of Tom's hands on her body as he held her close.
Then came another sound: one that seemed to come from far away, yet breaking into their happy world like thunder. It was Valerie's mother screaming - screaming in terror and despair. The sound echoed inside Valerie's head as if it were right next to her ear, causing pain, filling her up with dread and hopelessness until she suddenly fell backwards out of Tom's arms in shock.
Tom looked at Valerie with concern, putting his hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?" he said. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Valerie couldn't bear to tell him what was happening; she felt like her mental world was crumbling around her and all she wanted to do was run away.
"I... I don't know," she stammered, not making eye contact. "It's nothing."
Tom's expression darkened as he stepped away from Valerie and folded his arms across his chest. "No," he said sternly. "It's something. You can trust me, Val - tell me what's going on."
Valerie felt her heart racing as she thought about telling Tom the truth - that she had been having terrifying hallucinations, and they only seemed to be getting worse as she delved deeper into her family and professional crises. But before she could say anything, her phone rang in her pocket.
She let out a sigh of relief as she reached for it, grateful for the distraction from the conversation.
Tom shook his head in frustration and turned back to the pots on the stove. He started stirring them. Valerie could feel him trying to contain his anger and disappointment.
Her heart broke as she watched Tom. Her eyes filled with tears that she didn't dare shed. She wanted so desperately to tell him the truth, but she was too scared of what it could mean for their relationship - and too scared of being judged or rejected because of it.
She knew that Tom deserved better than this, but right now all she could do was watch him silently as he cooked - a reminder that even though they had shared a moment of pure bliss, their lives were still far from normal.
The phone stopped ringing. Another missed call from Heinlein stared up at Valerie as she looked at the screen.
Then it started ringing again.
"If it was important enough to stop you from telling me what's going on," Tom said without turning around. "Then it's too important to ignore."
Valerie then noticed that she also had a chat message on her phone. As it continued to ring, she opened the message. It was from her partner, Charlie. It simply read: We need you.
That was it for Valerie. If Charlie and Will needed her, she would need to put her aversions aside.
She reluctantly answered the call.
"Hello?" she said hesitantly.
On the other end of line was Director Heinlein, his voice crackling over the phone, and it was clear he was angry that she had been ignoring his calls. "Agent Law," he said sternly. "I've been calling you for hours now - where have you been?"
Valerie took a deep breath and tried to steady her voice. It was going to stick in her throat, but she knew she would have to show some respect, if not for him personally, for his rank, at least.
"Sir, I'm sorry for not answering your calls," she began. "I've been dealing with a family emergency and it's been difficult."
Heinlein paused for a moment before continuing. "Agent Law," he said sternly. "You know that an FBI agent is never off duty - what were you thinking? I've a good mind to put you on leave."
You'd love that, wouldn't you, Heinlein? Valerie thought. He'd been doing anything he could to get her out of the Criminal Psychopathy Unit because she had thwarted his attempts to have the unit shut down.
Valerie came to the conclusion that if he wasn't going to mothball her there and then, it was only because he couldn't. Something had happened.
"It won't happen again," Valerie said.
"It better not," Heinlein snapped. "Your partners have been at the Mesmer Building for hours. You're already behind. Get to the crime scene, immediately. I'll send the address. Against my better judgment, the powers that be decided you are the person best in place to solve a string of murders."
Valerie didn't know who was looking out for her, but the FBI had due process. There were protocols to be followed. And they had saved her, for now.
"I'm on it," Valerie said.
Tom turned around and shook his head at her.
"Be quick," Heinlein said, ending the call.
Valerie put her phone in her pocket.
"Tom..." she started to say.
"I guess I'm eating alone, then?" Tom said.
"The team needs me," Valerie tried to explain.
"What if I need you?" he said.
A thought then entered her head: Why not give it all up? Walk away from it all. From Mom. From the FBI. Leave it all behind and build a normal life with Tom.
But she knew she couldn't do that. No matter how much she loved him. Now that she had reconnected with her mother, she couldn't let that connection go. And as for the FBI...
Valerie looked up and saw herself warped in the reflection of a polished cupboard. It was merely the impression of who she was; a dark silhouette that barely had eyes to see or a mouth to speak.
In Valerie's mind, that was who she would be without her calling. Chasing killers was the anchor that held her in place even during the worst of weather.
She had to go and do it all over again. The chase was what kept her sane.
"I thought we'd been over this, Tom. This is what I do. I know it's hard on you. But I have to go. It's who I am."
Tom sighed and moved towards Valerie. He touched her cheek gently. "It's not who you are, Val. It's who you're choosing to be. If the FBI is consuming you, maybe you should think about another vocation in life. But I've said this before and nothing has changed. I know how committed you are. I guess I'll see you whenever this is over."
He took his apron off, dumped what he was cooking into the garbage disposal, and left the empty pans on the kitchen worktop. Then he left the room, picking up his jacket.
Valerie heard the door close on his way out.
"Oh, Tom..." Valerie said with a loud sigh. She felt terrible. He needed her. She needed him. But the gulf between them was populated by the carcasses of her family history and her career.
CHAPTER SIX
Valerie's mind was filled with trouble as she turned a corner. The car shuddered slightly. She’d misjudged the turn due to being distracted, one of the wheels scuffing the sidewalk.
"Dammit," she said under her breath, correcting the turn, and looking up ahead.
The early evening sun shone brightly through the spring sky, casting a golden light over the suburban street. The houses were small, but well-kept and neatly arranged. Some had flower boxes in their windows, others had children's toys scattered around the garden.
It was a cozy street, but that simple feeling of safety had been shattered for one of its residents.
Ahead of Valerie was an area cordoned off with yellow police tape. Two figures stood inside the perimeter: Agent Charlie Carlson and Doctor Will Cooper - her two partners from the FBI's Criminal Psychopathy Unit who she'd been working with for two years now.
They both looked to have grim expressions on their faces, cast starkly against the sunshine above. Charlie waved to her as she pulled up.
Valerie got out of her car and took in a deep breath of fresh air before approaching them, allowing herself time to gather her thoughts and focus on what was ahead of her. Her job was never done and she had to prepare herself for whatever horror lay beyond that tape. She knew it wasn't going to be easy, with Heinlein looking for any official excuse to replace her and her team, but she was determined that they would get through it together.
As she got closer, Charlie and Will greeted Valerie with a smile. Charlie was tall, broad, and imposing, but Valerie knew how kind he was deep down. Will was dressed, as usual, like a scruffy academic in his late forties, bow tie around his neck. His eyes were tired, but his expression held determination to find the truth behind whatever had happened here.
"Val, are you okay?" Charlie said as Valerie reached them.
"Yes," she said.
"We've been trying to contact you," Will added, pushing his glasses up towards the bridge of his nose.
"I know, I'm sorry," she said. "I was visiting my mom." Valerie tried to hide her worries, but Will and Charlie had become adept at sensing when something was amiss.
Will looked at Valerie for a moment as if considering her. "Valerie, perhaps we can leave this until later? Charlie and I can..."
"No!" Valerie snapped, instantly feeling regret. "I... I'm sorry. It's been a rough day. Can we just push through with this case, please?"
"Okay..." Charlie said, giving Will a worried glance.
"So, what do we have?" asked Valerie.
Charlie spoke as they walked past the police tape and out to the front of a small house.
"We have one victim inside the house," he said. "His name is James Asper. The body has already been taken to the morgue. We may have other victims from separate incidents as well, but local law enforcement are currently looking into those."
Valerie felt a flutter of dread as she looked at the empty windows of the house before her. For a moment, she thought she saw a face staring down at her, but it was gone when she blinked.
"Let's go and take a look," she said, pushing forward with determination, no longer wanting to waste any more time on anything other than getting this case solved.
As they walked, Will asked: "I'm surprised Director Heinlein has asked us in on this one. Aren't we the sworn enemy?"
"I know," Valerie said. "I think there's pressure on him from other parts of the bureau. I suspect we might actually be getting to him."
"He's still digging into our pasts," Will said, mournfully. "A colleague of mine in London told me she had been contacted by Mi6 about my past political affiliations."
"Did they find anything?" Charlie asked.
"No," said Will. "There's nothing to find. But they are looking. Heinlein's prodding into my academic contacts is making people suspect I have something to hide. It is bothersome."
Charlie laughed. "Bothersome? I'd use more colorful language than that."
"One must maintain one's composure in the face of an adversary," Will said with a wink.
"I prefer to be more forceful with my adversaries," Charlie said. "If I didn't think I'd lose my pension, I'd loved to get some one-on-one time with Heinlein."
Valerie sensed some stress in Charlie's voice, something that was rarely there. She took a mental note of it, but now was not the time.
Valerie, Charlie, and Will arrived at the front door of the house. As they stepped inside, Valerie felt a chill in the air. There were several forensic officers packing up their things in the hallway. In the middle of the room was a chair that had been burned to a crisp. The smell of burned hair filled her nostrils and she felt sick to her stomach.
"What happened here?" Valerie whispered as she looked around at the destruction.
Charlie checked his notes "James Asper's body was found on his chair," he said quietly, motioning for them to move further into the room. "His wife Diane found him."
"That must have been awful," Valerie said, trying to remain as professional as possible. But in her line of work, you would have to be a robot to not be affected by it.
Valerie approached the chair and examined it carefully. Metal chains hung from the arms where the body had been strapped in. She then noticed a wire running from the back of it into the main socket of the house. The fabric had been burned off, leaving only charred metal and wood behind. It was a grim sight, one that made her shiver with dread.
She noticed some strange markings around the headrest of the chair, like an arc of discoloration. Valerie wondered what it was. She felt a deep need to see the body to answer that question.
"This is unusual," Valerie said, looking around the room for any other clues. "This seems very elaborate for a serial killer, if that's what we have on our hands."
"Serial killers usually kill up close and personal, using their hands or a knife or bludgeoning implement," Will said. "Electrocution seems distant. It's the antithesis of the need to fulfill a murder thrill."
Valerie nodded in agreement. "It's true that serial killers often have a very distinctive method of killing. Usually, it's an act that is controlled and allows them to assert power over their victims while also satisfying their own fantasies. But why would they choose something so elaborate and potentially dangerous like electrocution? It doesn't seem to fit with the typical profile."
Will seemed deep in thought for a moment before speaking again. "The psychological research into serial killers suggests that some may choose distancing mechanisms. Electrocution could be a way to distance themselves from their victims," he said. "By using electricity, it may remove the killer from any direct physical contact with their victim, making it easier for them to remain emotionally detached from what they are doing."
"Or they might be a germaphobe," Charlie said.
"That's fascinating, Charlie. Care to elaborate?" Will asked.
"This reeks of someone who doesn't want to get his hands dirty. He's a coward. He can't face getting up and personal with murder," Charlie said. "When I served, I met a few like that. They were happy to use a weapon that took out the enemy from a mile away, but put them in a cave with a knife or even a gun, and they didn't want to face the true horror of death."
Valerie listened to the input from her colleagues as she stared at the blackened remains of James Asper's armchair.
"It's a good idea," Valerie said. "We should follow it to begin building a profile."
She turned away from the chair, finding it difficult to look at it any longer. The smell was turning her stomach.
"Anything on possible suspects?" Valerie asked. "Anyone James knew?"
"I spoke briefly with his wife before you got here," Charlie said. "Local PD interviewed her as well. Her name is Diane. She admitted that she and James had been having marital problems. They had argued badly the night before."
"This seems markedly elaborate for a case of domestic murder," Will said. "And besides all of this, we have at least two murders on our hands, both involving electrocution within a 70-mile radius of each other. The chances of this being coincidence seems unlikely."
"Agreed," Charlie said. "Diane has a good alibi for last night anyway. She stayed with her sister."
Valerie looked over the room once more. "I don't think there's anything else here for us. Did you say the body has been moved to the morgue?"
"Yes," Charlie said, nodding. "Because this is the second victim, they've fast-tracked the autopsy."
"Let's head to the morgue then," Valerie said, grimly. "Examining the remains might throw up a clue to help us identify the twisted mind behind these murders. And I want to know about a pattern I saw on the armchair headrest. It's highly unusual."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or do I have to sit here in silence with a busted radio?" Charlie asked.
Will didn't answer from the passenger's seat. Charlie's words faded into his mind along with an abyss of unease.
He blinked away the memory of the charred remains of James Asper's armchair as best he could.
He didn't look back at the Asper house behind them as they drove, but he could feel its presence bearing down on any glint or gleam of positivity.
Will took a sip from a bottle of water as the streets passed by. His mouth was dry and he could feel heart palpitations in his chest, a sure sign he was under stress. He turned his gaze out the window as they drove off, watching spring blossoms coming alive on either side of them, trees beginning to bud and flowers breaking through from their sleepy winter slumber.
_preview.jpg)
