was his sister. She said someone killed both her babies. Her voice was hollow and detached. Ben had gone to look….
Jack accelerated along the dusty road. Last Sunday he had been with Liz and Ben. They had gone on a picnic with the kids. He had played hide-and-seek with Maggie and Ben Junior. Later, they had roasted hot dogs over an open fire. Ben Junior had dripped mustard down his shirt.
Jack’s car bounced along the gravel driveway leading to the house. He had made the usual one-hour drive to the farm in less than forty minutes. Dust billowed behind, then overtook him as stepped out of the car. A police car, with lights flashing, sat empty outside the house.
Jack sprinted inside.
A uniformed officer appeared in the hall.
“I’m on the job too. This is my sister’s house,” said Jack, reaching for his badge.
“She told me you were coming. They just left. We’ve got a car taking them both to the hospital. She’s really out of it. I think she broke her nose.”
“What happened?”
“She found her kids in an old abandoned farmhouse down the road. She fainted and smacked her face.”
“Are you sure the kids are…?”
“I’m sorry. Both dead. That’s all I know. Homicide should be arriving any minute.”
A police car blocked the driveway leading to the abandoned farmhouse. He saw a uniformed officer talking with two paramedics leaning against an ambulance. Any hope he had was gone.
Moments later, Jack was careful not to disturb any evidence as he walked along the edge of the driveway leading to the house, but the driveway was mostly overgrown with grass and he didn’t see any identifiable tracks. He reached the small clearing where the house was located.
A young uniformed officer walked out from behind a mass of blackberry bushes. His white face and the smell from the bushes explained it all.
“Who are you?” the officer demanded.
Jack flashed his badge.
“Man, you wouldn’t believe it in there! With this heat and the greasy food I had for —”
“I don’t need to hear it.”
A voice behind Jack asked, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you still on Intelligence?”
Jack recognized Connie Crane. She was attached to the Homicide Unit on the General Investigation Section.
“Where is everybody?” he asked.
“On their way. I just got here myself. What are you doing here?”
“The parents … they’re my sister and brother-in-law.”
“Yeah? Oh … Jack, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“You know them well?”
“Very.”
“Any problems?”
“Forget that idea,” replied Jack. “They’re good people. Decent.”
“Just doing my job.”
“Well let’s go in there and do it.”
“You’re not goin’ in there!”
“I’m going in!”
“Like hell you are! You’re not on GIS, let alone Homicide, so get out of here and leave me to do my job.”
“Damn it, CC! These kids are family!”
“Forget it. Don’t blame me. It’s policy.”
They locked eyes and neither spoke.
Jack was the first to break the silence. “Have the bodies been formally identified yet?”
“Maybe they didn’t see the faces, I heard it’s pretty messy in there, but…”
“Policy wouldn’t consider that a proper ID. I can do that now. Or were you looking forward to watching their mom and dad do it?”
CC paused, then let out a sigh. “Okay. You win. ID the bodies and then go. Deal?”
Jack nodded, and CC rummaged inside her briefcase and handed him a pair of protectors to slip over his shoes.
CC gave Jack a hard look and said, “Remember, it’s not your investigation!”
“I hear you.”
CC flicked on a small tape recorder and cautiously entered. Jack stood at the entrance, looking in. He saw a kitchen, with a trail of blood across the floor to an open door on the far side. He resisted the urge to rush in. He watched CC practically hug the wall as she moved through the room, avoiding contact with anything someone else might have touched or walked upon. She talked as she went.
“Blood on the kitchen floor indicates two different sizes of footprints. Appear to be a man and a woman’s. Note, must seize the parents’ footwear.”
CC moved past the kitchen counter and studied the open door leading into the bedroom. “A door leading off the kitchen has numerous chunks and small round holes taken out of it. The pattern is similar to what a shotgun with heavy shot would do. Appears to be multiple blasts, maybe three or four. Entry point is on the kitchen side. No sign of shell casings.”
“CC!”
She clicked the recorder off. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your mouth shut! What is it?”
Jack indicated where some dust had been disturbed on the counter.
“So?” asked CC.
“Something slid across the counter. There are grains of powder in the dust! Brownish-grey. Bet it’s heroin or meth!”
CC bent over for a closer look, then said, “Maybe someone weighing drugs. I’ll have it looked at.” She then turned her recorder on and said, “Now, facing the entrance to the room off the kitchen. Inside is — Christ!”
CC shut off the recorder and stared into the room.
A voice in Jack’s head and an eruption of burning bile up his throat and into his mouth told him to get out of the building. But he didn’t listen. He swallowed, then slowly moved to the doorway and looked in.
Sunshine reflecting off splinters of mirror cast bright, rainbow-coloured images. Vibrations from their feet caused the images to dance and shimmer throughout the room. Shards of light flickered across red and pale-white flesh. It looked mystical. Surreal.
He felt the urge to run. To go back to his apartment and crawl into his closet and hide. Hide from Liz and Ben. Hide from this room. Hide from this world.
