It's A Shame (6 page)

Chapter
5

When we got home from lunch and shopping, Ray opened the
trunk of the Landaulet and Michelle and I leaned in to grab our shopping bags.  We rode the elevator up in silence, both of us thankful for the exhausting day, which helped steer our thoughts away from the horror of last night.  As soon as the elevator door opened and we stepped out, I spotted it.  Lying directly in front of my apartment door was another square plain cardboard box. 

I heard Michelle’s gasp
and mumbled expletive and felt my legs weaken as we both stood like idiots staring at the ominous parcel. I grabbed the wall for support as my stomach heaved and my body slid slowly down to the floor. Michelle reached into her purse and pulled out her cell dialing Cole, who apparently from what I could understand of her half of the conversation, told her he would be right over and would contact the detectives.

“Cole said not to touch it
,” Michelle said softly as she squatted next to me.

“Like I
would
anyway…really?”  I looked at her incredulously.

It was like we were in the twilight
zone; neither of us was able to pull our eyes away from the plain square box.

She stood and peered around the slight turn to see if she had also received a parcel. When she turned back to me, the paleness of her face confirmed
my fear.

“Come on Grace, let’s go in my apartment and wait for Cole and the police
there.” 

She grabbed my elbow and
helped me to my feet, pulling me along behind her. I slowed as we passed my door and the box, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck and my arms rise. She tugged my arm dragging me around the bend with her, and we stepped past her nondescript little box. She pulled her keys from her jacket pocket and opened the door.

O
nce inside her apartment, with the door closed and locked behind us, I let out a sigh. I walked into the kitchen and plopped my bags on top of the table and sat down, both mentally and physically drained. A slow, creepy feeling slowly rose inside me…I’m pretty sure it was dread.

“This is so fucking horrible… who the h
ell is doing this?  Even worse…whose fingers…” my voice faded as I thought about the ‘victim’ for the first time since receiving the first ‘package’.

“I hope the cops got somewhere in their investigation or whatever they’re doing.  I wonder if she’s alive?”

“SHELLE!  Really, do you need to say that?” I lowered my head. “This is so fucked up.” 

She stood there with
her mouth wide opened, looking totally bewildered by my eruption. I got up and walked down the hall into the bathroom. After shutting the door I walked over to the toilet, put the lid down, and sat on top of it.  I lowered my head in my hands and I broke down.  All the sadness, frustration and anger I was holding onto flowed out of me like a river, my emotions overtaking me.  I didn’t hear the front door open or Cole’s arrival so I was somewhat shocked when he just opened the bathroom door and walked in.

“What is wrong with you?”  I barked.  “What if I were using the toilet…?  Jesus Christ. 
Can I have some fucking privacy?” I angrily swiped at my tears, somewhat embarrassed at having been caught crying.

Cole stood there stupefied by my outburst, c
learly not knowing what to do. I had never spoken to him like that before and I immediately regretted the tone in my voice.

“Grace…
I just wanted to see if you were ok,” he clarified and shook his head, trying to stem his own building anger.

“Should have knocked… that’s what people do when other people are in the bathroom… they knock.”
My voice was small.

He turned around and banged on the door with his fist.

“Hear that?  That’s me knocking,” he said defiantly.

“Cole…” my voice
got smaller.

“I’ll be
inside, when you get yourself together come out.”  Looking dejected and hurt, he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

What the fuck is wrong with you, Grace?  Why are you taking
it out on him?

I immediately yanked on the toilet pap
er, sending the roll spinning. I tore it off and wadded it into a ball in my hand, swiping it across my eyes.  I looked in the mirror and stared back at a face I hardly recognized. I didn’t like her.

After I cleaned
the black streaks trailing down my cheeks from my eyes, I walked back out into the hall.  I could hear Cole and Michelle talking in the living room.  When I walked in they both stopped talking and looked up at me.

“Better?”  Michelle asked.

“I’m just peachy,” I said as I took a seat next to Cole.  “I’m sorry Ace…I’m just a little off my game. I should never have spoken to you like that. I’m really sorry.”

I snuggled up to his shoulder and buried my head.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He wrapped his arm around me. “I should have knocked.” 

“I’m making coffee, anyone want?”  Michelle
announced as she stood up and walked into the kitchen.

“Yeah, definitely for me
,” I called out after her.

“I’ll
take a cup Michelle, thanks.” Cole said, then turned back to face me, and kissed my forehead.

“I wish I could make it all go away
, Grace.  I’m sorry I can’t,” he whispered, his tone so genuine I felt even worse for how I spoke to him.

“I know.  I’m sorry too.”  I shimmied closer to him and rested my hand on his
arm.

The doorbell rang and as Cole went to answer it, I stood up
. I was still a little weak and my knees shook a bit.

As t
he two detectives walked into the apartment, they both quickly scanned the room.  Cole shut the door and followed them as they continued into the living area where I stood.

“This feels eerily familiar
,” Detective Johansen said, a smile playing on his lips.

“It’s the sa
me layout only turned around,” I offered smiling weakly.

“Is that coffee I smell?” 
Detective Johansen asked.

“Yup… want some?”
Michelle asked as she walked into the living area, a huge smile lighting up her face. I looked at her quizzically.  “Just put a pot on, it’ll be ready in a few.”

“Did anyone touch
either package?”  Dean asked.

“Nope
,” Michelle answered, “We came right in here after I called Cole.”

“Hell no
,” I said as a shudder ran through my body.  “Is it the same as last…?” I didn’t finish.

“
Don’t got a clue, but it looks like it. CSI is on the way now. Just wanted to rule out your prints if you did.”

Michelle walked back inside the kitchen and a few minutes later
returned carrying a large tray with the coffee pot, five mugs, a sugar bowl and container of milk.

Detective
Johansen walked over and relieved her of her burden. “Here I got that.” He smiled at her. He carried the tray the rest of the way to the living room, setting it on top of the aptly named
coffee
table.

“Thanks…thank you.”  Michelle smiled widely as she looked up at him.

What the fuck? 

I continued watching Michelle and Detective Johansen.  I almost broke out in a laugh at Michelle’s awkwardness, but then I remembered why he was here to begin with and shivered involuntarily.

After Michelle recovered from her near fatal injury, her douchebag boyfriend, Jeff, broke off with her
. He was apparently unable to deal with what
almost
happened and wasn’t at all interested in helping her heal, helping her take her life back. I knew then he would never be good enough for
my
Michelle, but that’s my opinion. I told her when she started getting hot and heavy with him that he seemed less than genuine, she grudgingly agreed. I was thankful she felt the same way. Jeff never had the heart to stay in it for the long run.  She said it was because he never
really
loved her like he told her he did.  I was inclined to think she was right.

Like I said, douchebag.

After Detective Johansen placed the tray down, he stood looking directly at Michelle. Cole and I briefly exchanged looks.  So I wasn’t the only one to notice the chemistry between these two.  Michelle leaned in and poured the coffee into the five mugs.  Then sat down where she had previously been sitting when I’d returned from the bathroom.

“Wel
l, where to start?”  Detective Johansen said looking first at me then Michelle, his gaze lingering a little longer on her.  “We know for a fact that the finger you received was taken from a woman, who at the time it was cut off… um, severed…removed…anyway she was still very much alive.”

H
e saw me wince at his description and grimaced.

He
glanced quickly at Cole and continued.  “The only prints we found on the first package belonged to you people,” he looked at Cole and me, then Michelle.

Detective
Johansen glanced at Michelle and me again, “and…the victim.”

We both gasped.  I heard Cole curse under his breath.

“This sick fuck, pardon my French…” he tried to look sorry for speaking so plainly, but was unconvincing. His partner, Carrie Verdi, let out a hoarse laugh.

“We are all fluent in French
Detective, I assure you,” Michelle said. 

Detective
Johansen smiled at her.

Come on guys, back to the finger…and the victim.

“Well, he apparently used the severed finger to apply the tape and the label to the package…after he removed it, that is.  So we are dealing with a smart son of a bitch. Who likes to play games.”

“He what…?” I asked, my voice shaky.

“We know he wore gloves, because one, there were no other prints found, and two, there were traces of the powder from inside the gloves found on the package and the tape as well.”

“How do you know she’s alive?”  I asked.

“Dan… the M.E.” He cleared his throat. “The medical examiner, ran tests on the finger and that’s what he told me…and since he knows about that shit and I don’t, I believe him.”  He smiled broadly and seeing his sense of humor fell flat on everyone except his partner, who was trying hard to refrain from laughing, his smile rapidly faded. 

Detective
Johansen cleared his throat and continued, “We were able to get her prints and ran them through FFIS.” He looked at us one at a time. “We got lucky, we found out who our victim is.  Fortunately for us she worked for a bank downtown and was bonded.  Her family didn’t even know she was missing but a neighbor said he saw the girl leave her apartment five days ago, from what he could recall.”

“Did sh
e…does…does she look like me?” I said my voice barely a whisper.  I hadn’t realized I had been holding my breath until then.

“No…”
His head snapped up when he heard a call on his radio and he abruptly turned and walked towards the door. After opening the door, he spoke in a low voice to another police officer outside in the hall then closed the door and crossed back to where we all stood.

“There
was
another finger in each box. Looks to be from the same victim.” He looked directly at me. 

I remember feeling sick just before everything went black.

I opened my eyes to find Michelle on her knees next to where I lay on the sofa.  Cole stood over her, a worried look marring his face.

“You passed out Grace
.”  Michelle explained. 

“
Shit…damn it.” I looked apologetically to Cole, who shook his head, seemingly sympathizing with me. A thought flew into my head and it was frightening.

“
Can someone call my mother and make sure she is ok?” I looked beseechingly at Cole. “But don’t tell her about any of this, I don’t think I can talk to her now,” I pleaded as Cole made his way to the counter where his phone was.