Destiny's Wrath (Destiny Series - Book 3) by Straight, Nancy (read full novel .txt) 📗

“Maybe it was a robber, maybe lookin’ for gold or somethin’.”

“You know, that is a possibility. Do you know where Mrs. Camden kept any of her valuables? Just so I could check and see if they are still there.”

Jimmy shook his head that he didn’t know. Samael’s voice screamed in his head, “Shut up you half-wit. He already suspects you. The more you talk, the closer you get to jail. Excuse yourself and shut the door.”

Detective Ross’ foot didn’t budge. Jimmy pleaded, “Sir, I hafta’ go back to bed. I’m real sick. I’ll tell Mom you want her to call you.”

“Just a second, Jimmy.” He knew he couldn’t let the kid go back into the house. “So, you don’t know where her valuables might be? Did she keep any guns in the house?”

“No, Sir.”

“Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt your friends or Mrs. Camden?”

“No, Sir.”

“You know, if there is something you want to tell me, anything you can think of that might help, I’ll listen.”

Samael’s voice echoed in Jimmy’s head, “Invite him into the house. Tell him you want to sit down and talk. Do it now.”

Jimmy didn’t understand the change in Samael. He had just told Jimmy to get the detective away. He had told him to stop talking. Now he wanted the detective to come in. He wished he understood Samael better.

Chapter 8

Ryan Bush had been the county coroner for three years and was in the parking lot waiting for the police to finish their pictures. He looked at his watch: already 3 p.m. It was his night to pick up the kids from karate. “Going to be much longer, Dennis?”

Sergeant Dennis Thornton was a patrol officer, kneeling down beside one of the bodies, “No, we’re almost finished. How long until the autopsies are done?”

Ryan wiped his brow, “Normally we do first come, first served. But with nine bodies all coming in one on top of the other, tell me whose you want done first, and I’ll get started first thing in the morning.”

“The morning? The state boys are going to be all over this. Can’t you get started tonight?”

Ryan shook his head, “I can’t tonight. I’ll get these last two taken in and processed, but we might need to call in support from the state crime lab.”

Dennis leaned his head back to stretch, frustrated that the city could require him to work twenty-four hours solid, but the county employees got to keep bankers’ hours. As he stretched, he noticed a weathered security camera on the top of a pole, aimed right in on his position. “Go ahead and bag them, Ryan. I’m going to run inside for a minute.”

There was a dollar store just on the other side of the parking lot. He loped over to it and found a clerk just inside the door. “The camera out in the parking lot,” pointing over his shoulder through the window, “who monitors it?”

“It’s on a remote backup system. We don’t have the tapes here.”

“How could I view the recording for the last twenty four hours?”

The clerk had been watching the police work in the far corner of the parking lot for over an hour. “Let me call the owner. I don’t know how it works, but I think it’s on a web site or something.”

Twenty minutes later Sergeant Thornton had been provided a web link, a username and password, and sure enough, forty-eight hours of grainy footage was available. He scrolled through in ten minute bursts until the time stamp showed 9:23 p.m. Dennis paused the image on a grainy, black and white silhouette of the perpetrator. “Gotcha.”

Dennis called the service provider, explained that the video was needed for a murder investigation, got the release from the owner to use it, and was feeling pretty good about this break in the case. The image wasn’t clear enough for facial recognition, but was significantly more detailed than an artist’s sketch would be from an eye witness. He knew the geeks at the lab could sharpen the image. Dennis picked up his phone and dialed Detective Ross. He was so excited he could hardly contain himself.

The voice that answered the phone barked, “Ross.”

“Hey, Bert, we caught a break. There’s a security camera in the parking lot where the last two bodies were found. We got the whole thing on video.”

Silence echoed on the line. Dennis asked, “Bert, are you there?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Bert, it’s Dennis. We got the whole thing on video.” Dennis and Bert had been in the same class at the police academy; they’d known each other for years. Bert must be pretty frazzled, he thought. Multiple murders never happened around here. Shit, single murders almost never happened around here.

When Bert didn’t respond, Dennis held his phone out to see if his call had been dropped. They were still connected. “Bert, are you there?”

A cool voice answered, “Yes, Dennis, I’m here. I am finishing up my interview of Jimmy Jacobs. I’ll have to call you back.” The phone went dead.

Dennis’s stomach knotted. There had to be more than one Jimmy Jacobs in town. He watched as the coroner’s vehicle pulled out of the parking lot. Dennis thought of the grainy image, “No frickin’ way,” he told himself.

A text message was waiting on his phone: “Auto Notify: 1600 HQ briefing.” Dennis looked at his watch, “Shit,” he muttered to himself. Sergeant Thornton got in his car. If he hit every light green he would only be five minutes late.

Dennis arrived in the packed room, standing room only. The briefing was already underway by the chief.

“. . . Victim two, is a fifteen year old female, named Jessie Farver. Victim three, seventeen year old male, named Noah Farver. Victim four . . .” The briefing went on in graphic detail as to how each victim had been killed in the Camden home, likely scenarios for the timing of each kill, DNA evidence that was under