Grace (2 page)

Grace and Sherry were his whole life and he would do anything for them, especially keep them safe.

"You're a better man than I am, partner, that's for sure. I would have told Delores and Ted to go screw themselves long ago."

Carl laughed. “I think you did tell them that once."

Nicholas chuckled. “I think you're right.” Then he smiled as he held the door open for Carl.

"Let's get these out to the ladies,” Carl added, then they left the kitchen.

"This is my home! You have no right being here!"

"Please don't hurt us.... Please!"

Grace jumped from her bed. She had never heard her parents yell or argue, except for that one time Daddy got home very late from work and reeked of cigars. Mommy was real mad.

Grace peeked outside her window. It was dark, the middle of the night. It felt like she had just gotten into bed moments ago. Why were her parents yelling?

She tiptoed to her bedroom door, and cracked it open enough to see the staircase. She could hear someone else's voice.

"You're not showing up for court tomorrow, Martin, and neither is the witness,” a strange voice echoed in the front entranceway by the bottom of the stairs.

"You're crazy! The police will get you. You're making matters worse. Please, leave my family alone,” Carl pleaded and Grace heard a loud thump.

Mommy screamed.

Grace opened the door wider and walked barefoot down the hallway to the top of the stairs. Between the fake garlands, she saw a man holding a gun and Daddy lay on the tile floor. His head was bleeding.

The man pointed the gun at Mommy. “I want you to see this. Wake up! Open your eyes, damn it! I want you to see me kill your wife!” the man screamed.

"No!” Grace yelled from the top of the stairs.

The man fired one shot.
Bang!

Carl tried to grab the guy's leg, but the man kicked him in the face.

"Run, Grace! Run!” her father yelled, but Grace couldn't find her legs. She couldn't move.

The man held the gun to Carl's head.

"Grace.... What a beautiful name ... for a beautiful little girl."

Bang!

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Twenty Years Later

"So what do you have?” Lieutenant Mathews asked as he entered the missing young victim's apartment.

"The boyfriend hadn't heard from her in a few days and got concerned. He came over, opened the door, and found the place ransacked.

"Looks like the suspect.... I mean the boyfriend was right.” Detective Johnson cleared his throat.

Lieutenant Mathews smirked, then continued to look around the room.

"So the boyfriend reported her missing? Did you run him?” Mathews asked.

"They're doing it right now. We also have forensics dusting the bedroom for prints. Looks like a struggle may have occurred in there.” Detective Johnson nodded toward the small hallway and route to the bedroom.

Lieutenant Mathews went to take a look. As he entered the bedroom, he noted the sliding, mirrored doors on the closet were broken. There were a few drops of blood splattered on the bedroom floor. Clothing lay scattered across the rug and indentations on the carpeted floor of the closet meant something heavy had sat there for a long time.

"Got anything, Lieutenant?” Johnson asked.

"Is the boyfriend still around?” Mathews asked.

"Yeah, he's next door with the neighbors. You want him?"

"Make him sit around until forensics is through, then see if the guy knows what was sitting in this spot on the floor in the closet."

"What are you thinking?"

"There are four indentations, maybe a suitcase or something was there."

"So maybe she took off?"

"Possibly, or whoever did this wanted it to look that way. Keep an eye on him. I'll be out later."

"Sure thing, Lieutenant."

Mathews continued to look around the apartment.

He saw a few pictures of the victim alone, some with her and possibly family, then a bunch with her and her boyfriend.

The victim, a knockout brunette, looked happy in all the pictures. A few scenarios went through his head.

This was the third young woman who had gone missing since late spring under similar circumstances as the other cases. They each seemed to disappear out of thin air.

Mathews exhaled deep. He hoped there weren't a connection of some kind. So far, there weren't too many similarities.

Forty-eight hours later

Grace sat at the gray, metal desk alongside Detective Ron Jones. He was a good ten years older than she and known as a ladies’ man. Unfortunately, their paths crossed again now that she worked homicide.

Grace tried to focus on the information in front of her, but Ron leaned over her shoulder a bit too close for comfort. His warm breath blew against her hair.

Her elbow was in position, cocked and ready to fire if necessary and the target was his crotch. The guy just didn't seem to get the message.

Grace tried to focus on the file, then asked a few questions. All of which Jones practically dismissed.

"This woman, reported missing, lives in the same apartment complex as the murder victim in my current homicide. Where was she seen last?” Grace asked.

Ron took the opportunity to whisper in her ear, “Leaving work around 6:15 p.m. Damn, Grace, you smell incredible."

Grace gripped the desk with one hand, then turned her head slightly to the side, toward Ron. She moved her head a few inches back or their lips would have touched.

Grace took a small breath. She hated people in her personal space.

"Ron, cut the crap out, will ya? How many times have I told you that you're not my type? Now let's focus on this. Besides, I hear you have a hot date with Captain Andrews’ secretary tonight."

Ron stepped away from Grace and sat halfway on the desk.

"Where the hell did you hear that?"

As much as Grace hated gossip, it did come in handy to know what went on in both the professional and personal lives of other people.

"I've got my sources. She's a nice young woman. She'd be good for you."

"What do you mean ‘good for me?’”

"She'd set you in your place."

"Set me in my place? Bullshit, honey. There is no woman who could have complete control over me like that. Except for you, maybe,” he teased as he winked, then took a strand of Grace's long, chestnut brown hair between his fingers.

He gave her the once-over, licking his lips.

"I don't know how you haven't gotten swooped up by some great guy yet, Grace. You're the whole package from top ... to bottom,” Ron once again eyed her well-endowed figure as if she were a meal and he were starving

Grace rolled her eyes, then got up from the chair as she gathered the folder and her things. She wore a long, slim-fitting, brown skirt and a black, low-cut blouse. The thigh-high slit on the side of the skirt she wore revealed her high-heeled brown leather boots. Ron apparently absorbed it all.

She had court this morning and a lunch date that didn't go so well. Grace found it rather amusing once she settled down. The fact she nearly knocked the ‘eye candy’ of an accountant on his ass was a lesson well learned.

Men were dogs and she just didn't need the hassle—obviously had been out of the game too long. Whatever happened to a nice dinner, a few other dates, then maybe some making out time? Get to know one another first before jumping into bed. Then there wouldn't be such discomfort if things didn't work out. When she agreed to lunch, he had it in his head Grace meant a quickie at the local motel around the corner.

Grace shook her head.

Ron crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the doorframe. “Don't give me that look, Grace. I'll get ya to come around."

This time, Grace gave him the once-over then smirked, hoping the look would do some damage to his ego.

She had a lot of respect for cops in general and had made plenty of friends on the force even though Uncle Nicholas was now a captain.

"I've got work to do, Ron, I'll catch ya later."

"At Billy's?"

"Doubt it.” She walked out the door. There was no way she was hanging out at Billy's Pub tonight.

Captain Nicholas O'Connor sat at his desk smiling.

"What brings you uptown, Max? I haven't seen you in years."

"Ahh, what else would bring me into the world of the rich and easy life?” Max replied sarcastically, then embraced the captain.

"Sit down, Max. Tell me what you've been up to.” Captain O'Connor leaned against the front of his desk and smiled.

He hadn't seen Max Mathews in a good five years when they had crossed paths during a murder investigation. It was a gruesome one that brought together numerous departments, both uptown and downtown in the city.

"I've been keeping busy, same shit, different day. You know how it is. Anyway, I'm working on a case that involves four missing women. There may be a connection between them all and now that the latest has gone missing in your district, I'll need some assistance from your people."

"Whatever you need, Max. Tell me about the case."

Max appraised Nicholas about the missing women and possible connection. Nicholas listened as Max told him where they currently were in the case and about the latest information.

"I know Conway and Thatcher are working the first homicide that I think may be connected to mine. I've been keeping an ear out for any similar homicides with the same MO or even close.” Max ran a hand through his hair.

Nicholas noted that Max still looked the same and hadn't aged too much in the past few years since they had last seen one another. Max was tall, a little over six feet, and if Nicholas’ memory served him right, Max was an incredible martial arts expert. Max always had a rough, tough personality and told it the way it was.

Which unfortunately got on a lot of people's nerves, but Max didn't give a shit.

Max had an excellent reputation when it came to investigating homicides and that's what really mattered.

Remembering having that same attitude around his early thirties, Nicholas smiled. Now he was closer to retirement age.

"I'll keep an ear out, as well. Do you have any suspects?” Nicholas asked.

"As of right now, no suspects. No leads whatsoever and thus far, none of the missing women seem to know one another.

"They're all brown-haired, short to medium height, with athletic builds, professional or college-aged, and disappeared out of thin air like they decided to leave their perfect lives behind them."

"Sounds like a tough one. How many detectives do you need?"

"How many can you spare?"

"I've got a bunch of detectives working the Parkinson murder, but I can spare a couple for you and get you whatever you need. Lewis and Martin are working the case you feel is connected to yours. I'll let them know what's going on. They're good detectives. You'll have the department's full cooperation."

Max stood up and shook Nicholas’ hand.

"I appreciate it, Nick, and it was good seeing you again."

"Good seeing you, too. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Thanks,” Max said then left the office.

As Max exited the department, he noted the nice cubicles, gourmet coffee center, and fresh donuts and pastries in the break room.

In his department, he was lucky if there was any coffee around that wasn't stale and days old, and as far as snacks, he was on his own. It was overcrowded, dirty, and far from the country club he presently stood in.

Max shook his head, smiling. As much as he hated the shit hole he had to work out of, he also loved it and the people he worked with.

There was no room for niceties and being delicate. Downtown cops were right in the middle of the shit. They handled things head on, kicked ass and took names later instead of worrying about proper protocol or messing up the brass’ schedule.

This current case he worked on would bring the two very different types of cops together, working side by side. It might go smoothly or it could cause more chaos than there already was. Either way, he was determined to get to the bottom of this case and fast.

He walked out of the precinct and to his unmarked Crown Victoria, finding it humorous once again that there were empty spots dedicated to visitors. At his precinct downtown, only the brass had dedicated spots and if one made the mistake of parking there, his/her ass was guaranteed to get chewed. The yellow lines that separated each parking space were practically invisible and no one paid attention to them, anyway. There was an unwritten rule of parking as close as you could to the next vehicle, so that they could fit as many in the small lot as possible.

This place was the lap of luxury.

He got into his car and immediately saw the file sitting on the front seat. It contained some information on the missing victims and Max's own notes based upon his instincts. There were certain individuals who committed numerous types of crimes. It was way too early to come up with any kind of profile of what type of suspect he should be looking for.

The circumstances and appearance of each victim's apartment just didn't make sense to him. The similarities of their physical appearance, professional status and education were the only links to each victim. He wasn't even certain whether this were a sex-related homicide. He still felt a need to search VICAP for any other similar unsolved cases.

Max ran his hand through his hair as he drove back downtown through the commuter traffic. It was a nightmare out there, and he found himself thinking about his warm, comfortable bed and a good night's sleep. That just wouldn't happen any time soon. He pushed away the thoughts and turned up the radio, thankful for the twenty minutes of downtime.

"Hey, Grace, don't you answer your cell phone? What the hell is the use of having that thing if you don't answer it?” Barry reprimanded as Grace entered the office.

She smiled, then shrugged her shoulders. “Oops!"

"I wanted you to stop by Captain Morris’ office and pick up some papers for me. You were already downtown. It would have saved me a trip,” he scolded while following her to a small cubicle.