👉Read Chapter 4👈
Now, Chapter 5
The next day, Grayson tried his best to concentrate on his patients but his mind too often wandered on Caleb. Had he known even back then who the rapist-turned-murderer was? Had he been working with this monster the whole time thwarting the police? Even he had to admit that Caleb's involvement stretched the limits of his reasoning. There was no love lost between him and Caleb and his resentment for Carla was nothing more than petty jealousy but to put her life in danger that night? Not even Caleb could have...or could he?
Grayson was so mired in his thoughts that they drowned out Janice.
"Grayson," she said so sharply that it finally pierced his senses.
"Yes." He yelled louder than he planned and then squeezed his eyes. Holding up his hand, he replied, "Sorry. Sorry Janice. A lot on my mind."
"I can tell. Supervisor Weatherly is on the phone for you. He says it's about that serial case."
Grayson nodded and quickly pushed a button and picked up the phone.
"Carl, what's going on? Has he struck again?"
"No, he hasn't, thank God, but I need you to come down to PD. We found something yesterday that we can't...it's about Carla."
Grayson's heart leapt.
"What do you mean? Is she—"
Carl quickly responded. "She's fine. Just...just get here and we'll explain."
He quickly hung up and asked Janice to reschedule his appointments for the day.
At the station, he was shown to one of the conference rooms where Cordell and Carl were talking over a table full of papers and photos all encased in clear plastic bags.
"Glad you could make it." Cordell responded as he saw Grayson by the door.
Coming closer to the table, he looked around before settling his gaze on the two men.
"Where's Carla?" He asked.
"She got a call about another case so she's in the field." Carl answered. "Besides, I wasn't sure she should even be here for this."
"Why not? You said it was about her so I assumed she would be."
Carl and Cordell looked at each other. Grayson felt a sudden heat rise in him, streaming beneath his skin causing it to tingle.
Cordell responded. "We found something that makes us think that she may be a...target of the serial."
There it was. That sliver of fear that Grayson had been waiting to feel. Only when he let out a breath did he realize he had been holding it practically since he walked in the door.
Carl picked up a few of the plastic covered pictures and called Grayson closer to show him.
"Yesterday, while you all handled the Caleb situation, we were able to start processing his house and the victim's place as well. We were able to get some items and prints from both scenes but we found these in one of the drawers in a back room at his house. Most of these women were victims." Carl pointed to one picture in its own clear plastic bag. "That's Miranda Wilson," Grayson took the picture and looked at her. She was a tall brunette woman, looked young. The picture caught her in midstride. "This is Josie Willis. Some of these pictures had writing on the back. "
Grayson turned over the picture and saw the writing that had dates, time and even some other descriptions. While he read the words, the penmanship was what stood out. It looked precise, not free flowing or hurried. He was no expert but to him, it looked like someone who had just been taught how to write in cursive lettering.
Grayson flipped over the other one and saw the same kind of writing. "So it's still pretty damning for Caleb, but what does this have to do with Carla?"
Carl looked at Cordell who handed him a smaller group of photos, which he then handed to Grayson.
Grayson filed through them one time and then another.
"Pictures of Carla were abundant in this bunch," Cordell interjected. "There were pictures of her in uniform and even more recent ones of her at crime scenes."
"I'm no psychiatrist expert," Carl muttered, "but it looks like he's fixated on her in some way."
Carl gave Grayson another picture. This one was of Carla. She looked the same but there was a youthfulness about her, he could tell. There was a young man with her. They were smiling, dressed in winter clothes with brown and red leaves on the trees in the background.
Grayson stared at the photo with an even more critical eye. The Sara Marquez interrogation, she mentioned a white line in one of his eyebrows. It was such a simple observation that not many would have mentioned much less noticed and it had stuck with him.
Grayson's eyes narrowed. "My God," he stated, realizing just who and what he had been looking at today and two years ago.
"What do you see, Baxter?" Cordell asked
At first he didn't respond, not quite sure what to say. But in his mind, he knew what his next step needed to be.
"I need to see Caleb." He said looking from one man to another.
"He's still in holding and still pretty cheesed at everything." Carl remarked.
"Doesn't matter. I need to talk to him and I need this picture when I do."
Cordell nodded to Carl who went to set things up.
"What are you seeing Grayson?" Cordell asked.
"This picture is the missing piece we've been waiting for all this time. I think I have a way to get to Caleb. I don't know if it'll break him but I think we'll get some answers. I'm going to use this to help me do it."
Cordell saw a hard, focuses look in Grayson's eyes. He wasn't sure he had ever seen it before and he was more than curious to see how it all played out.
* * *
Micki quickly undid the buckle on Zach's pants as Zach looked on amused. It had been three weeks since their last encounter and with what he was feeling, he needed it just as much as she did, from the looks of things. Micki was nothing more than a quick fix. They had met in the gym and hit it off a couple of months ago. At first, she was just someone to talk to but things quickly turned one day when he offered to give her a ride from work. Sex with Micki was fun and no drama. They would meet someplace and do it quickly in his car and that was it. Nothing more than quick tension release.
Zach pulled his pants down while Micki greedily mounted his erection using the rolled up window to brace herself. She moaned with surprise as he slipped inside her. It always took a minute for her body to adjust to him and when it did, she rode him hard and fast. While Zach felt the waves of pleasure slowly mount as she moved her body up and down his length, it was nothing compared to the sheer pleasure of having a woman helpless in his arms. The look of fear, the smell of their sweat, hearing them gasp for air, this was what got him off in a way Micki could never touch. It helped him to conjure up those images while she rode him and that was what made him enjoy their encounters just a little bit.
Micki felt Zach grow harder and took it as a testament to her hip work. The windows were steamed slightly as she leaned over and kissed him hungrily. She pulled back and looked at his closed eyes and his moving lips, interpreting that look of bliss as all for her. It was enough for her to give herself even more to the moment.
Zach looked up at the woman who rode him enthusiastically. With her eyes closed and her body heaving, she looked the picture of a woman in pleasure. But for him, it wasn't enough. He wanted more and he knew how to get just a little taste. His mind brought forth the face of the one woman who was the object of his affection. The one who brought him here. The one who he was working to be worthy of again. The very image of her made him wild as he fisted Micki's hair.
She shrieked and grinned sensually.
"I knew you liked it rough," she muttered as her breath quickened even more.
With what little leverage he had, Zach pushed his hips upwards. The slapping of their bodies, the smell of heat and sex that made Micki's walls clench as she yelled her pleasure.
For Zach the pleasure was nothing more than a reaction to her vise grip on his dick and his orgasm felt weak. It was always like this with women like her. Hollow.
The windows were sufficiently fogged as she slowly recovered herself and carefully dismounted. They both rolled down their windows and Micki leaned against her seat, catching the rest of her breath.
"God, I needed that," she growled between breaths.
Zach pushed his penis back in his pants and brought his seat back upright.
"So did I." he said. It wasn't a complete lie just enough of a truth to move their small talk along. "It's been hell since they let me go a couple of weeks ago. Been looking but no one wants to give me a chance. It's all rigged."
Micki turned her head and laughed slightly.
"You and my old man are the same. You lose your jobs and whine that the game is rigged, can't find a job, blah, blah, bullshit."
He turned to look at her his jaws clenched. "It is. It's like they have their friends already in the job before you even apply. They come up with some lame excuse about how you're not a right fit, not qualified, too much experience, too little experience. It's always something they use to get in your way. I'm sick of it."
"Oh, please." she retorted. "I had a friend of mine lose a job and a week later, she was in another one that paid her a little more than the one she had. People are hiring if you're willing to look and stop crying about how The Man has it out for you or whatever."
"So what?" Zach retorted as he pushed himself up on his side. His face was pinched as he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles lost their color. "I'm not looking hard enough for you. Is that what you're saying." His mouth went dry as he felt his jaws tighten.
"Maybe." Micki turned to him, unafraid of sharing her opinion. "I know there are jobs out there and if you really want one, you just need to open up the paper, close your eyes and point."
In a flash that caught her by surprise, he slapped her and grabbed her jaw tightly until her lips puckered.
"You saying I can't hold a job?" His face was millimeters from hers as Micki flinched feeling some of his spittle hit the side of her face. "You're always telling me I can't hold a job."
She pulled away from his grip only to be caught again. "What are you talking about, Zach? You're hurting me."
His eyes looked darker and meaner than just a few seconds ago. Micki looked from one eye to the other trying to see if there was any light left in him. Whatever flicker she saw was fading as bitterness rose in the back of her throat.
"All you do is criticize," he spat. "You never even so much as say thank you for anything."
Micki struggled, looking at his eyes with a frightening revelation. Zach wasn't looking at her but through her.
"I like it when you struggle, Marie."
"Marie? Who the hell is Marie?" She strained to breathe, clawing against the weight that was pressing against her body. "It's Micki. Let me go."
Zach just looked at her, mumbling something as Micki realized that he was having a conversation in another time.
"You're right, Marie. I like it rough."
Micki was genuinely afraid for her life as he pasted his lips to hers and force his tongue in her mouth. Fighting the rancid sweatiness she smelled from him now, Micki tried to push him away but his grip was like granite.
Zach pulled back and looked at her.
"Good, Marie, I like it when you look at me like that."
Micki heard herself whimper as he bundled both of her wrists in his grip and reclined her seat all the way back. As she felt the full force of his body on hers, Micki's last thought was of this Marie, whomever she was. Whomever she is, she thought, I hope I meet her in hell.
* * *
Grayson sat in the chair waiting. The minute the door opened his peered at Caleb, who did little to hide his disdain. As the officers shoved Caleb down in his chair with a jerk, Grayson shoved the bagged picture in front of him. Caleb looked at it and then turned his head to the side.
"Who is he?"
No answer. Grayson could see the muscles in his jaw dance.
Silence wasn't going to cut it, not now.
He leaned over and dropped his fist on the table heavily. "Look at me," he shouted to get Caleb's attention. The move worked as Caleb turned to meet Grayson's gaze.
"Who is he?" Grayson measured each word, his voice eerily low and steady.
"Zach. Zach Bramwell. My kid brother. Half brother."
Just as he thought. For the most part, Zach and Caleb didn't look alike with the exception of their eyes.
"Something must have gone wrong. With him." Grayson asked pointedly hoping to catch him off guard. "What happened to you? To him?" The surprised look on his face was all the proof he needed.
"What?" Caleb's voice was unsteady.
"You know what I mean. You. You were a jerk, but Carla said you were a good cop. Then I get a referral for you as a patient. You're out of order, acting up in violent ways. Drugs, maybe." Grayson saw something flash in Caleb's face. "For a narcissist like you who swears that every part of him was a gift from God that women should worship with gratitude,...what happened to you? To him, to either of you?"
Caleb said nothing and for Grayson, that would not do.
"Dammit, Caleb! For once in this whole situation, be man enough to tell the truth."
"I am a man," he sputtered.
"Then tell me what the hell happened." Grayson thundered. "Speak!"
His lips sputtered and trembled.
"His fucking lunatic sister killed my mother!"
