Eli
January 16, 2018
“Fuck.” I’ve never gotten sick on the job. There have been times in my career where I’ve wanted to, but this time, I feel instantly sick, and wretchedness builds in my throat. It’s early in the morning.
Lydia’s the one who called it in. She’s sitting in a chair next to the cold case, clearly distraught.
“Are you all right?”
She quickly nods, though I know she’s not.
“He’s behind the counter,” she whispers.
When Lydia called 911, immediately, they requested backup because of the scene. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happens like this in Granite Harbor. I take this shit personal.
The EMTs take Lydia outside as James Lent, the patrol officer, throws up in a trash can after mentally taking down the gruesome scene. He’s gray.
“James, go outside, all right? Get some air.” I’m still ticked off at him for taking Alex to the airport.
Ryan is behind me, Ethan and Aaron trailing behind him.
“They called all units in the area,” Ryan says breathlessly from behind me and then, “Oh, fuck. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Randall, innocent Randall, is sprawled out on the floor, dark red blood stuck to the floor, thicker areas still wet to the touch, his face barely recognizable.
Ryan walks outside.
We’d already known who did this. Clay isn’t as smart as he thinks he is. He left a trace of hair on a scene when we finally recovered Lila’s body on the Appalachian Trail. A hiker had come across her body. Whether the evidence will hold up in court with this scene, we’ve got to find something that will stick.
State Police went to Clay and Randall’s house to make the arrest, but nobody was home. Their next stop was the bakery, but last night, no one was there.
This makes my stomach grow sick again. Could we have saved Randall?
Among the awfulness, I see Randall’s hand holding something white.
“What’s that?” I ask Aaron.
He leans forward, not wanting to step into the crime scene too much, for fear of a botched investigation. “Looks like a piece of paper?”
Ethan is already taking pictures with his phone, just in case. “I’ll give these to the investigator once he shows the hell up.” He snaps them as if he’s seen this before. Or maybe he’s grown more accustomed to this type of gruesomeness than most. Being a combat veteran, he’s seen a lot of really bad shit before.
The State Police Crime Lab arrives on the scene as well as two State Police detectives, the Sheriff’s Department, and two FBI agents in a matter of seconds behind us.
We back away from the scene but not before I ask one of the detectives to look at the piece of paper in Randall’s hand.
He agrees.
Before we’re outside, I call Alex’s cell phone because I have a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Hey, can you do a search for Alex’s home phone number?” I ask Ryan.
“On it.”
Lydia’s sitting in one of the patrol cars, talking with one of the detectives. “Did you say you needed Alex’s home phone?” she says, shielding her eyes from the bright sun that January brings.
I stop. “You have it?”
“Yeah. You don’t?”
“No, I never got it.”
She scrolls through her phone, her hands still shaking. “Is she in trouble? Here. What’s your number?”
“I hope not.” I try to push away this nightmare that is becoming a reality.
I give it to Lydia, and she sends the contact info to me.
“Thank you.”
I try several times to call Alex’s home phone. “Come on, Alex. Pick up,” I say as I get in my truck.
Fuck! My heart begins to pound. Why isn’t she picking up?
I try again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
I slam my hand on the steering wheel just as one of the investigators calls to me from the front door of the bakery.
“Hey, Young, you’re going to want to see this.”
I jump out of my truck and jog over to where he’s standing. The white piece of paper is already packaged for evidence, but I can clearly read the words sprawled out in black ink.
ALEX MADE ME DO IT.
“You need to scour this scene. Don’t leave anything unturned. You’re looking for the same killer who killed Lila Richardson. His name’s Clay Mahoney. He was Randall’s partner. You need me for anything?”
He shakes his head.
“Good, because I need to catch a flight to California.”
I make calls to the Belle’s Hollow PD Chief and make them aware of the situation. I tell them that they need to get to Alex’s house, stat, or they’ll have my ass to deal with when I get there.
“Warden Young, the threat has been neutralized.”
“What?” My heart stops and then starts again. My stomach sinks.
“Based on what we’ve surmised from the crime scene, Clay’s dead.”
My stomach grows uneasy.
I suck in air. “But how?”
“In self-defense, the victim was able to keep her life.”
“She killed him?”
“Yes.”
My head falls against my headrest. How can I be elated and sad, all at the same time? I’m three thousand miles away from who I love most. She’s probably traumatized again, and I’m probably the last person she wants to talk to.
I take an overwhelmingly big breath, so fucking grateful she did what she had to do. “Where is she?”
“Redwood Memorial.”
My head pops up off my headrest. “Why?”
“Warden Young. She’s fine. Just monitoring her.”
I debate on calling her; just hearing her voice would give me peace of mind.
I dial her cell number. It goes straight to voice mail.
“Alex,” I say, “it’s Eli.” I’m quiet for a moment. “I just needed to hear your voice.” My voice cracks open. “I really need to see you. Call me, please, Alex. Call me, so I know you’re all right.”