Destiny Disrupted (There's Always Tomorrow Book 1) (9 page)

It takes Vance about half an hour to make it to the crime scene, which is already surrounded by tons of cops and yellow tape. He ducks under the tape and sees the Chief standing on the sidewalk talking to the crime scene photographer. He gives Vance a nod. Vance nods back then starts taking mental notes of the outside of the house. His sharp eyes take in everything as he looks around the perimeter of the house. The house is very similar to the first one, not only in exterior style, but also in the layout.

There is no sign of forced entry. So, did this guy have a key? Or maybe he is a whiz at picking locks? Did he know someone in the family who let him in? He has so many questions with no answers. Vance walks back around to the front of the house, his mind working overtime. He makes a note to find out if the families have any kind of connection to each other.

Shawn is walking up the driveway when Vance turns the corner of the house. Shawn stops and waits for Vance.  "Hey, stud. How’s that gorgeous woman of yours?” Shawn asks with a sly smile.

Vance smirks. “She’s amazing.”

“Oooh, you thinkin’ she might be the one?” Shawn wags his eyebrows and nudges Vance in the side with his elbow.

“Maybe.” Vance shrugs.

“’Maybe,’ my ass. Do you remember how you abused me yesterday because I let slip that you've had a two year dry spell?”

“Let slip? Fuck you, that was on purpose!” Vance snarls.

“And did she give a shit? No! She's still with you,” Shawn shoots back.

“Will you two stop bullshittin' and get to work!” the Chief shouts from across the lawn.

Vance and Shawn immediately turn and start toward the front porch. They both stop on the porch and put paper booties over their shoes so they don't fuck up the crime scene. After taking a deep breath, they enter the house. Vance is first with Shawn on his heels.

Vance is immediately hit in the face with the sickening stench of death so bad that it makes his eyes water. The scene is pretty similar to the first one with blood and body parts all over the place. For added shock value, the killer draped intestines down the railing of the stairs like Christmas garland. Sick, it’s absolutely sick.

It’s almost impossible to move across the living room without stepping in blood, but Vance and Shawn do the best they can. They snap on latex gloves so that they don't accidently contaminate any evidence by touching something or getting fingerprints anywhere.

And just like last time, the family’s heads are set up on the mantel of the fireplace, starting with the father, then mother, then the oldest child to the youngest. There are two boys and a girl this time. Vance’s gut is telling him that the kids’ genders bear no significance, but there’s still not enough evidence to be certain, so he won’t make that call yet. Thank god Vance took the Chief's advice and didn't eat anything because his stomach is roiling.

There are people everywhere collecting anything that can be evidence and putting it in little plastic baggies. But, Vance can't see anything that can possibly lead them to whoever did this. He turns to glance over at Shawn when he catches sight of one of the kid’s hands, where it was tossed onto the couch. Vance moves in closer and sees that there is what looks like chunks of skin under the short nails. The kid fought back and most likely scratched the killer. This may be their best chance at a lead.

“Jackie! Scrape under these nails and send it to the lab ASAP,” Vance calls to the head crime scene investigator, who jumps right on it. 

“Whatcha got, Van?” Shawn asks from the other side of the room.

“Possible DNA from the killer,” Vance replies.

“Nice.”

Vance continues looking around the carnage for any possible evidence that can lead them to the killer. He avoids looking at the heads on the mantel. Seeing them once is enough to give him nightmares again. After forty-five minutes, he can't take the stench anymore, so he leaves and heads back outside.

Vance works at his desk late trying to find any kind of connection between the two families, but there is nothing other than their houses being similar and each having three children. There is nothing else. The houses aren't in the same school zone, so the kids don't go to school together or play any sports together. The adults all have completely different jobs that never even cross paths. Vance is going out of his mind; how can there be no connection? Is this killer actually choosing at random? He finds that hard to believe.

A hand comes down on Vance's shoulder, making him jump. “It's 9:30 pm, my friend. I think it's time to call it a night,” Shawn says.

Vance blinks blankly up at Shawn. “9:30?” he asks.

Shawn nods. “Yeah, and I think you should call your woman. She’s probably wondering what happened to you today.”

“Fuck me.” Vance sighs and rubs his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. “I forgot all about calling Melina. How do you leave this shit here and not take it home with you?”

“Listen, Vance. If you really like this girl then she has to come first. Is what we do important? Yes, but it's just a job and you have to live your life outside of this office and crime scenes. I saw the way that you were looking at her yesterday. She’s special, and you need to make sure that she knows it,” Shawn says softly and gives Vance's shoulder a squeeze.

Vance nods. “You're right, Shawn. I'm just not used to not being single; for two years, I haven't had to let someone know where I am and what I’m doing. I'm not used to someone waiting for me to call them.”

“Well, get used to it because you don't want to lose her before you even really have her,” Shawn murmurs then heads for the door.

Vance glances around, he is the only one left in the office. He pulls his cell phone, which is sitting next to his computer, toward him and touches the screen to wake it up. Two missed calls. What? He never even heard it ring. He checks to make sure the ringer is up and it is. He must have just blocked it out while he was working. Both calls are from Melina, one at 6:00 pm and the other at 9:00 pm.

Vance pulls up her number and hits the call button. The phone rings a few times before she picks up with a somber, “Hey.” Dammit, she is upset with him. Nice going, asshole.

“Baby, I'm sorry I missed your calls...”

“It's fine, how was your day?” Melina says, cutting him off.

Vance hesitates. He doesn't know what to make of her nonchalant tone. “It's been non-stop. How was your day?”

“It was fine,” she says shortly.

“You're mad at me, aren't you?” Vance sighs and leans back in his chair. He leans an elbow on the arm of the chair then rubs his aching forehead with his hand.

“I'm not mad, Vance. I'm just afraid that this is how it's going to be and I’m not sure if I can handle it,” Melina says, her tone level and emotionless.

“Lina, don't say that.  Listen, I fucked up today, I know that. I swear it won't happen again. I'm not used to having to call someone if I'm staying late at work.”

Melina is silent for a long time before she answers. “I don’t like sitting around, waiting while you work all day and night. I can’t be in a relationship with a man I never get to see. I already did that, and it really took a toll on me. I need to feel more important than your job. I was sitting by the phone for hours, just waiting to hear from you. I don’t want to be that girl. I want to be the one who you come home early to because you can’t stand being away from me for so long. Then when I didn’t hear from you at all, I was worried sick. You can’t imagine the crazy scenarios that were going through my head,” Melina says, her tone hard and a little icy, yet hurt and vulnerable.

“God, Melina, I really am so sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to make you feel any of that. You are so much more important than any job...fuck...” Vance says quickly and seriously.

“Good,” Melina whispers.

“Can I come see you?” Vance asks softly.

“Not tonight,” Melina says in a shaky voice that sounds as if she is ready to cry.

Vance sighs heavily and drops his head back to his chair. “Melina, I'm so sorry.”

“I know, babe. I forgive you. I just need to get a good night’s sleep and process all of this. I’ll talk to you soon, though. Goodnight,” Melina croaks then hangs up before he can say anything in return.

“Nite,” he mutters under his breath to a dial tone on the other end. Vance hangs up and fights the urge to chuck his phone at the wall. He grinds his teeth as he sits and seethes. He is fucking furious with himself causing Melina to cry. This is not how it’s supposed to be between them; they are supposed to be enjoying the beginning of their relationship. Instead, Melina is already thinking about breaking it off because she thinks that he cares more about his job than her. There aren’t enough curse words in the world right now to call himself.

Vance walks into the kitchen from the garage in a foul mood. He slams the door to the garage behind him then tosses his keys and cell phone onto the island counter. He flings his suit jacket over a chair then starts loosening his tie as he storms over to the fridge for a beer. He grabs a Heineken, cracks it open, and slams half of it down in one guzzle.

“Hey, Van,” Tripp says from behind him.

Vance wipes his mouth on his sleeve then lets out a huge burp. “Don't fucking talk to me right now,” he snarls, keeping his back to Tripp.

“Well, shit,” Tripp grumbles and goes about making a PB&J without another word to Vance.

He leans on the counter with his palms and hangs his head. “Fuck...I'm sorry, Tripp. I just had a bad fuckin’ day that only got worse.”

“It's cool. Does this have anything to do with you not calling Melina all day?” Tripp asks.

Vance whips his head around to look at Tripp. “How the hell did you know that?” Vance snaps.

“Chill, brother. She called here around seven-ish looking for you. She was worried out of her mind about you,” Tripp says, returning Vance's hard stare.

Vance turns his head back around to face the cabinet and closes his eyes. “Motherfucker,” he bites out.

He slams the rest of his beer down then turns, leans his butt against the counter, and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Is there a reason you didn't call her?” Tripp asks and takes a bite of his PB&J.

“Man, she was the last thing on my mind today. I was completely focused on my investigation, not really thinking about anything else,” Vance says, shaking his head in disgust with himself.

“Mmm, that's a pretty shitty excuse.”

“Like I don't know that already.”

“Did you talk to her?” Tripp asks.

“Yeah, she was really friggin’ upset and refused to see me tonight,” Vance replies quietly, “She made it very clear that she doesn't have time in her life for a guy who doesn't make time for her.”

“Which is understandable,” Tripp adds.

“Never said it isn't.” Vance sighs and is cut off by his cell phone ringing. He rushes over to the island and grabs his phone then looks at the caller ID. Xander, his younger brother. He’s really not in the mood to talk to anybody, but his gut tells him to answer.

“Hello?” Vance answers.

“Vance! Thank fucking god! I need your help!” Xander's frantic voice gets Vance's heart racing.

“Xander, where are you?” Vance barks into the phone.

“I'm fuckin’ dead if you don't help me, man. You gotta help me!” Xander cries.

“Jesus Christ, Xander. Where the fuck are you?” Vance shouts as his heart tries to pound its way out of his chest.

His grip on the phone tightens when Xander doesn't answer. There is just a scuffling sound and Xander's distant voice telling someone not to touch him. Then there is the sound of flesh hitting flesh and pained grunts.

“Fuck!” Vance exclaims, “Tripp! I need your phone!”

Tripp hands over his phone immediately and Vance pulls up the GPS tracker and punches in Xander's cell phone number. As soon as Vance gets a hit, he grabs his keys and starts for the door. Tripp follows.

“I'm coming with you,” Tripp says and runs around the passenger side of Vance's car.

Vance opens his mouth to protest, but Tripp cuts him off. “Asshole, I'm a fucking Navy Seal sniper and I'm licensed to carry; two guns are better than one.”

Vance nods once then they both get into the car. He starts the car and immediately throws it into reverse. The garage door has opened to the point where he can make it out without scraping the paint off his roof so he floors it backward out of the driveway; he throws it into drive once he is in the street then peels off, screeching his tires. His tactical driving training kicks into gear.

Luckily, Vance knows the area where Xander is and it isn't far away. Vance drives like a bat out of hell, weaving in and out of traffic like it isn't even there. Tripp's chiseled face is cool, calm, and collected. He rarely gets to see Tripp in sniper mode and it is truly a remarkable sight. The man is in total control, not one ounce of emotion seeping out of his blue eyes. Tripp is rock steady and ready for action, as if he flipped a switch into one-bad-motherfucker-mode, and he looks fucking scary.

Xander is twenty-one and awesome on a skateboard, going to the local skate park at least three or four nights a week. He doesn’t have the big muscular build that Vance has, more like a tall lean athletic type, and he is definitely not a fighter. He usually doesn’t have any problems with anyone because he’s quiet and keeps to himself. But lately, for whatever reason, there’s been a group of nasty kids that keep coming to the skate park, starting trouble with the skaters. Xander has yet to be targeted…well, until now.