Piece Keeper (8 page)

“What are these? Cold cases?” Black asked referring
to the boxes he assumed were filled with files and evidence from
cold case files. That’s what they called unsolved crimes: cold
cases.

“Yeah. We don’t get down here often. Don’t have the
man power, money, or resources to keep many cases going.”

It was now Black’s turn to remain silent. He
carefully walked around the room looking for anything that didn’t
belong and could possibly link the three officers to Teresa’s rape.
He had put in a request to have a forensics team from a neighboring
county to perform the DNA sweep for evidence but was denied by the
District Attorney in charge of the case. He had his reservations
about how bias the team he was relying on would be. These were
officers they were used to working with and in a small town like
Danville he wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were related to
one of the three accused. He couldn’t worry about that now. He had
to have faith in the law. He knew it wasn’t perfect but he believed
in the constitution and his oath as an officer of the courts was
something that he took very seriously.

Black slid on a pair of plastic gloves and watched
as crime scene investigators opened silver metallic cases and
removed spray bottles. They went on to spray various locations in
the room beginning with the stainless steel table. They then turned
off the lights in the room and turned on a portable black light.
The room lit up with various stains that were once invisible to the
naked eye. Black remained silent with his game face on. He had to
keep his composure. He didn’t want to show any weakness. On the
outside he was cold as ice but on the inside his mind he was
screaming, “Run! Turn and get out of here!” He knew that the stains
he saw were secretions from the rapists and possibly blood from
Teresa. It made him wonder if this had been the first time that
something like this had happened. He wanted to question the female
officers that worked there. He knew it would be a slim chance that
they’d cooperate. He filed the thought in the back of his mind with
the intent to re-visit it if this hunt for evidence didn’t turn up
anything pertinent.

“A lot of fluids in here,” Waeltz said stating the
obvious.

Black grunted.

They both watched as the crime technicians collected
samples and sprayed SPERM HY-LITER, a fluorescent monoclonal
antibody-based kit used for the microscopic identification of sperm
from sexual assault evidence.

Waeltz continued. “I doubt we get anything out of
here we can use… print wise anyway.”

“Prints would be nice. That would place them in the
basement but I’m assuming every officer who works here has access
to the catacombs correct?”

“True. There would be no real reason for uniformed
officers to be searching cold case files but there are no official
restrictions in place preventing them access.”

“So if we do find prints they could have left them
the night of the rape or two months ago.”

“Right again. No way to tell.”

Black watched as they began brushing for prints.

Waeltz stood back and watched Black. “You want to
tell me what happened last night, Love?”

“You’re asking like you already know.”

“I want your side of the story.”

“Sorry, Waeltz. Fresh out of stories.”

“Have it your way. Just remember having it your way
it may not turn out pretty.”

Black continued watching the forensics team never
giving Waeltz any eye contact. “Your warning is noted.”

“Have you always been this way, Love?”

“How’s that, Waeltz?”

“Stubborn.”

“What’s that?” Black asked now facing Waeltz.

“You’re not doing this alone. I’m here to help.”

“It’s appreciated.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

“Are you looking for applause for doing your
job?”

“Not at all.”

“I don’t see the problem then. What do I need to be
appreciative of? You haven’t made any crucial breakthrough in this
case so forgive me if I don’t break my neck trying to give you that
hand job you think you need.”

“Funny, Love. All I’m saying is—”

Black cut him off. “Can we stick to the case at
hand?”

“Sure can, Counselor.”

“Thank you,” Black said as he turned and made his
way to the door. “Send over what you find to my office.”

“Sure thing.”

Black paused and turned back to face Waeltz. “Is
there another exit out of here?”

“Not that I know of… I mean… possibly.”

“Possibly?” Black asked rubbing his hands across his
bald head.

“Follow me,” Waeltz said not waiting for a response
from Black as he led the way towards the rear of the room and down
the long hall that turned and curved as they came upon a dead
end.

“What’s this? A dead end?” Black asked throwing his
hands in the air.

“A possible exit,” Waeltz responded pointing up to
the ceiling.

Black looked up in the direction Waeltz was pointing
to and spotted a door in the ceiling.

“Does this lead back into the station some
place?”

“I don’t think so. You saw how far we walked along
the hall down here. If I had to guess I would say we were out back
some place.”

“You’ve never used it or heard of anyone using
it?”

“Nope. Only thing comes to mind is old stories my
mom used to tell me about great, great grandma being an
abolitionist and helping with the Underground Railroad. She never
had proof. Just sort of took her word for it. She always told me
there were tunnels and hidden rooms in most of the old homes around
here.”

“Well let’s find out where it leads,” Black said as
he jumped to push the door open. It didn’t budge.

Waeltz held is hands up causing Black to pause.
“Wait a minute. First we have to dust it for prints and secondly we
can get a few uniforms down here with a ladder and help push it
open. Obviously it’s jammed.”

Black nodded in approval. It didn’t take long for
Waeltz to return with two crime scene technicians and two uniformed
officers carrying a ladder. Black impatiently waited for CSI to
dust for prints then watched as the two officers and Waeltz worked
together to force the door open. There was a loud thud above their
heads. Waeltz was finally able to get the door to open slightly;
just enough to fit his body through up to his waist. Although it
was a struggle he was able to push away the desk that was blocking
the door from opening. Finally he was able to shove the door open.
Climbing out, he stood to the side looking around the shed as Black
climbed up and out behind him. Together they surveyed the room.

“What is this place?” Black asked, dusting the dirt
off of his suit jacket and trousers.

“Looks like it may be the old shed out back.”

“Let me guess… the department doesn’t get out here
much either right?”

“Not really. Place should have been torn down years
ago.”

They both stepped outside. About 200 yards away they
could see the back of the police station. Following the dirt path
in the grass made from years and years of people trampling through
the grass they wound up on a side street with a side view of the
police station. As both men stood in silence caught up in their own
thoughts they were startled back into the here and now as Brown,
the local homeless man, appeared from out of nowhere.

“What are you doing around here?” Waeltz spat out
angrily.

“Minding my business,” Brown said as he went on his
way.

Feeling embarrassed, Waeltz began to go after the
man.

Black placed his hand on Waeltz’s chest stopping
him. “Leave him alone. Let’s stick to the matter at hand.”

Waeltz angrily pushed Black’s hand away. He wanted
to pursue the issue and put the smart mouthed bum in his place but
he knew Love was right so he pushed it out of his mind.

“What does this mean, Waeltz?”

“Not sure yet. Let’s see what the other pieces of
the puzzle look like first. But we won’t know that until we get the
results CSU collected back.”

“Speaking of pieces of the puzzle… what did you find
out about our friend?”

“I did a little digging around and finding skeletons
wasn’t as hard as you might think.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Before I joined the department there was an
unsolved homicide… my sources say he should have gone down for the
body.”

“Cover up?”

“He’s dirty alright.”

“What’s his connection to the chief other than the
department?”

“Still working on it.”

“Keep me apprised,” Black responded as he walked off
towards the replacement truck he was now renting.

Waeltz didn’t respond. He just watched as Black
drove off.

Chapter Eight

The next morning Black rushed out of the building,
hopped into his truck, slammed the door closed, and strapped on his
seatbelt. He turned the car on, shifted into drive, and then peeled
away from the curb. He’d just received a call from Waeltz saying
the lab report was back. He was surprised that it had gotten done
so quickly. Waeltz said they’d found something so he was meeting
him at Foster’s to search for evidence. The case was finally
starting to go somewhere. It was nearly a forty minute drive to
reach Foster’s home. When he arrived at the address that Waeltz had
given him, he parked and made his way to the door. Black felt
apprehensive about the situation. There were no squad cars onsite,
only Waeltz’s vehicle. The neighborhood was quiet. At mid-day most
people were still at work or school, he surmised. Foster, a single
woman with no children, lived in a neighborhood that appeared to be
more family orientated. Foster’s car wasn’t parked in the
drive-way. Black approached the front door with apprehension. It
was slightly cracked. Examining closer he noticed the frame of the
door was splintered as if it had been kicked in. Looking around the
neighborhood before entering, he turned back to the door and gently
nudged it open.

“Waeltz, you in here?” he yelled as he slowly
stepped in to find the place in a shambles. Stepping over broken
picture frames and lamps he made his way to the center of the
living room.

“Back here!” Waeltz responded.

Black made his way towards the sound of Waeltz’s
voice. Stepping around a coffee table and sofa that were both
flipped over then bending the corner into a hall that led to a
bedroom, he found Waeltz standing over Foster’s bed peering into a
shoe box. Black stood half way in the hall and half way in the
room. His eyes scanned the area. It was no different from the
living room. All of her things were everywhere.

“What is this Waeltz?”

“What’s what? It’s like I told you. The lab geeks
found a trace of Teresa’s blood mixed with a soft plastic, such as
flexible vinyl, and a strand of hair that just happens to be the
same color as Foster’s”

“And that means what?”

“Well according to the geeks they say it is
synonymous with a material that strap-ons are made out of.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And if you remember from Teresa’s report she was
attacked with a strap on.”

“Okay… but what are we doing here like this? Where’s
the warrant? Why does it look like a B&E?”

Just as Waeltz held up the warrant Foster stormed
into the room wedging herself in between Waeltz and Black. “What
the hell is this?” she yelled as she snatched the paper from
Waeltz’s hand.

“A warrant to search the premises,” Waeltz responded
as he pushed her to the side and made his way towards the door.

“On what grounds?” she demanded as she took up the
rear following behind Black as they all headed outside. By this
point the neighbors were outside watching.

“Probable cause… looking for, and found, evidence
that will indicate you in the rape of Teresa Prince.”

“The hell you did!” she screamed staring at the
box.

Waeltz held the box in the air and smiled. She
balled the warrant up and tossed it on the ground. She flipped the
bird to Waeltz and Black, grabbed her crouch, turned, and then
stormed in her house slamming the door closed.

“That is one pissed dude!” Waeltz said laughing as
he watched Black pick up the balled up piece of paper and unfold
it.

He glanced over the paper and looked to Waeltz
un-believingly. “This is a warrant for drugs.”

“So?”

“It’s not even for this address.”

“A warrant is a warrant.”

“It’s dated six months ago with someone else’s name
on it.”

Waeltz hunched his shoulders as Black shoved the
paper into his chest. Waeltz watched it hit the ground. “Didn’t
want to take the chance of her getting rid of evidence while I
chased down a judge for a warrant.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me right? Tell me you
didn’t just make me an accessory after the fact.”

“Don’t worry, Love. This case is a slam dunk. I’ve
gotten convictions with less,”

he said as he raised the strap-on from the box and
dangled in the air. “That look like blood to you?” Waeltz asked as
he held it closer to Black’s face.

Black turned and headed for his vehicle.

“Love, wait! We need to get our stories
straight.”

Black stopped and turned towards Waeltz angrily.
Spit flew as he spoke. “Stories straight? You’re joking right? I
was never here and I don’t want to hear about anything you may or
may not have obtained from Officer Foster’s home.”

“Don’t get high and moral on me now, Mr. Chi-Raq! I
know how y’all get down in the city. It’s been that way for years
from Capone to the Daley’s to Blagojevich to Jessie Jackson Jr. and
Mr. Barrack Hussein…right down to Yes-I- Can Obama himself.”

Did he want to get in a verbal spat with Waeltz over
the blatant disrespectful and racist overtone he made with his
statement or just show him how they really got down in Chi-Raq as
he put it and break his nose? He chose neither. “I believe in the
law and due process. I was sworn to up-hold it. I thought you were
a man that possibly held similar values. What’s done in the dark
will soon come to light.”