Death Notes: The Beginning- Book 0 Page 6

  “Where were you last night?”

  “Me and Zane was over at the park. We’d been there all week.” She held up a finger, the bangles around her wrist jingling as she reached into her purse and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “Look, we had his parole officer sign off on the trip.”

  Cooper looked over the form and then narrowed her eyes as she glanced back up at Rose. “And how did you know to come here? Mr. Marks hasn’t been able to notify anyone since his arrest.”

  Rose stuttered, shaking her head and waving her hands around as if she could conjure up an answer from the air around her. “I-I followed you, all right? Look, Zane and I knew he was going to miss his check-in with his parole officer, so we thought something like this would happen.” Her cheeks grew pallid. “That’s why I have that note.”

  Cooper remained quiet for a moment, letting Rose sweat before she answered. “I’ll need to check on a few things.” Rose opened her mouth, but Cooper slammed the door shut before she had a chance to speak. Hart was already in the interrogation’s anteroom, watching. “Did you find anything on her?”

  Hart flipped through the printed papers he managed to collect. “Rose Steeves. Aged fifty-three. She has four low-level misdemeanors for drug use. The last charge happened almost twelve years ago. According to her tax receipts she’s a waitress at—” Hart stopped and sprung forward in his chair. “Holy shit.”

  “What is it?” Cooper asked.

  “This is the same diner that Kate Wurstshed ran to after she left the storage unit.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Cooper looked back into the interrogation room. “Get units over to both Marks’s and Steeves’s residences. I want their cars checked, their phone records checked, and I want another look at the security footage at the diner.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Hart glanced at his notes, remaining in the anteroom.

  Cooper raised her eyebrows. “Hart?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Let’s do that now.”

  “Right.”

  Cooper followed Hart out of the room and she reexamined the notes from the conversation Hall had with Kate Wurstshed then grabbed a cluster of crime scene photos of their Jane Doe in the storage unit. She entered Marks’s interrogation room first. He rattled his chains, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as Cooper sat down. She remained quiet, shuffling through some of the pictures, paying him no mind, letting him squirm.

  “Well?” Marks spread his arms as far as the cuffs allowed, his eyes wide. “Did you call my parole officer? Did he tell you what happened?”

  Cooper reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of gum. She chewed it over a few times, letting the mint roll around her tongue, filling her senses. “I find it odd that a man such as yourself is able to get a girlfriend. How’d the two of you meet?”

  “What does that have to do with any of this?” Marks tightened his hands into fists, closing his eyes and swallowing what would have been an outburst. His next words were calmer, slower. “Just call my parole officer. He will explain what happened. He knows that I went on a trip.”

  “Call me a hopeless romantic, but I do enjoy a good love story.” Cooper leaned forward. “So, Romeo. How’d you and Rose meet?”

  “I met her at work.”

  “The diner off of Highway 86?” Cooper asked, keeping the pictures close to her chest and running her fingers over the edge.

  Marks furrowed his brow, glancing down at the back of the file, his voice slightly shakier than before. “Yeah.”

  “That diner’s been getting a lot of traffic lately,” Cooper said. “Not sure if the tips have been good though, especially with all the dead women coming through.” She flung one of the pictures across the steel table, and it glided to a stop at Marks’s hand.

  “Jesus Christ.” Marks jerked backward, his chains and chair rattling from the quick motion. Cooper flung the pictures across one at a time, each new image triggering a moan from Marks. With all of the pictures on the table Cooper rose from her seat and Marks shook his head, mumbling to himself. “I didn’t do any of that shit. I swear I didn’t.”

  “Must have had a lot of pent-up rage after all those years behind bars, right?” Cooper circled him, picking up the gruesome pictures of the woman’s beaten face, the gaping hole of smashed bone and brain, dripping blood. She held it close for him to see, forcing him to look. “What was it this time, Marks? She didn’t enjoy it like the others did? Said something that finally set you off? Why’d you do it? Why her? Your girlfriend wasn’t enough? She wasn’t satisfying the fantasy that ran through that sick mind of yours?” Cooper slammed her fist into the table, and the sudden burst of strength caused Marks to flinch. “Why’d you do it?”

  “I didn’t fucking touch her!” The chains locking Marks into his chair tightened, and his face flushed a blood red from his scream, while the vein along his neck pulsed quickly. “I don’t know who she is, and even if I did I wouldn’t do that.” He cried, his cheeks and upper lip growing wet with tears and snot. “I swear to God I didn’t do that.”

  Cooper backed off as Marks’s sobs turned to frantic cries. She kept the hard stare as she collected the pictures from the table but left one behind, the most gruesome of the images. She leaned in close as he buried his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling. “You’re an animal. Nothing more, and when things don’t go your way your true nature shows. You’re done.”

  Another wailing moan erupted through Marks’s hands just before Cooper slammed the door shut behind her. In the hallway she felt her body flush with heat, and she waited a moment before heading into Rose’s room, where she worked over the same angle and allegations, though her reaction was less dramatic than Marks’s, and when it was all said and done Rose simply sat there frozen and said she wanted to speak with a lawyer.

  After the questioning, Cooper found Hart. “It’s almost four o’clock. I’m gonna go process Marks’s paperwork and get in touch with his parole officer. Get Forensics to grab his DNA, and follow up with Barnesby’s secretary. Let me know if you find anything.” She started to leave, but Hart stepped in her path.

  “You think they did it?”

  “I think they did something. Whether it’s murder or not, we’ll know when we get Marks’s DNA sample back and compare it to what the lab finds on our Jane Doe.”

  “All right.” Hart stepped aside, and Cooper returned to her office. She eyed the box of Hart’s things wearily and turned on her computer. Paperwork was the well-heralded evil of police work. Logging evidence, processing suspects, requesting tests, warrants, crossing all the T’s and dotting all the I’s. It was tedious, but it provided the airtight lock that was needed to close cases.

  Cooper looked at the piles of backlogged files on her desk. Unfortunately, there was more work than detectives in the city. What it came down to was a prioritization of resources, so she focused on the ones that had strong leads, the ones she knew she could solve. But even if she cloned herself twice, spent every waking hour working cases, and had a one hundred percent arrest record, it still wouldn’t be enough. She knew there were murderers walking free in the city, and it drove her to the edge of sanity. If life was balance, then her city had been in darkness much longer than it had light.

  Chapter 6

  The clock flashed 8:00 p.m., and Cooper rubbed her bloodshot eyes, watering from dryness, and reached for the coffee mug. Hart entered, his tie loosened and his hair messier than when the day began. “The lab has everything. We’ll know in the morning if Steeves’s and Marks’s DNA are a match for our Jane Doe.” He tossed a file on the desk, and a few papers slid out. “I finally heard back from Barnesby’s secretary. There were six people that had access to the property. Mr. Barnesby, the ex-Mrs. Barnesby, the realtor, the secretary, the groundskeeper, and the painter who finished up his work last week. All of them with airtight alibis.” He pounded his finger into the stack then collapsed into his chair, rubbing his eyes. “People do not enjoy it when you stick your nose into their business
.”

  Cooper tossed a picture of the security keypad from the crime scene on the desk. Hart picked it up, blinking his eyes rapidly. “That was recently purchased online from a home security firm.” Cooper took another sip of coffee then set the mug down. “I requested a warrant for the account at the bank where the payment originated. We should know more tomorrow.” She watched Hart nod halfheartedly, his eyes closing. “Why don’t you head home? There isn’t much we can do now until we hear back from the lab. It’s been a long day.”

  “Yeah.” Hart pushed himself out of the chair and ran his fingers through his hair, yawning. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stopped at the door and looked back at her with a half-smile. “Don’t stay too late, Detective.”

  Cooper pinned the picture of the digital keypad back among the web of evidence on the space of wall that she cleared for Kate Wurstshed’s case and the Jane Doe. Pictures of both Steeves and Marks were at the top of her list, but even with the alibis of Barnesby and his people she kept them up. She drifted her eyes from the picture of the lock to Marks, then tapped his forehead. “All this just seems way too sophisticated for someone like you.”

  Two more hours passed, and the paperwork was finally finished. The past twenty-four hours pulled Cooper deeper into her chair and grabbed hold of the tired bags under her eyes. She shut down her computer and locked the office. Her knees and hips popped on her walk down the hallway, her body stiff from chasing Marks.

  Outside, the night air had a chill, and by the time she returned to her apartment she could barely keep her eyes open. She trudged up the steps, passing a woman who lived on the top floor, her attires suggesting she was heading on a date.

  When Cooper arrived to her apartment on the third floor,she reached for her keys but stopped just short of her door, which was cracked open. She approached slowly, her hand instinctively reaching for her pistol. She ran her fingers up and down the door frame, checking for any breaks in the lock, but it felt smooth.

  Footsteps echoed behind Cooper, and she turned to see one of her neighbors near the top of the stairs, their arms full of grocery bags. Cooper motioned for the old woman to stop then brought her finger to her lips, signaling for quiet. Cooper removed the pistol from its holster and raised it to eye level. She pushed open the door, silently, and stepped inside.

  The light in the living room was on, and she swiftly glided down the front hallway. The fatigue that had plagued her just moments before disappeared, replaced with the rush of adrenaline. When she neared the end of the front hall she paused at the corner just before the entrance to the living room. She took a breath, sweat beading on her forehead, and then jumped from cover. “Baltimore PD!”

  Beth threw her hands in the air and screamed. “Jesus, Addy, what the hell?” Beth stared at the pistol, the color drained from her face.

  Cooper lowered the weapon, her shoulders sagging. Her stiff muscles turned to jelly, and she clutched the wall for support, her voice hoarse and wispy. “What are you doing here?”

  Beth fumbled her words, the shock of the moment still fresh in her mind. “I went back to my hotel and just sat there, mad at you, but I didn’t want to leave the way I did after us not speaking for so long. So I came back here, and your landlord let me inside.” A single sob escaped her lips, but she managed to hold back the tears, forcing herself to remain composed, though her eyes grew glassy with water. “I miss you, Addy.”

  Cooper walked across the room and joined her sister on the couch and wrapped her in a hug. “I miss you too.” The two clutched each other, and Cooper squeezed tight. She pulled back, and Beth smiled. “I’m sorry for what happened earlier. You caught me at the middle of a very long day.” She collapsed into the sofa cushions, and Beth reached for her hand, holding it gently.

  “Addy, I was serious about what I said before.” Beth kept her head down, her voice dropping an octave. “About our father. I wanted to know who he was. The kind of life he lived. Why he left us. I had so many questions for him, but…”

  Cooper leaned forward, taking her sister’s hands in her own. “But what?”

  Beth shook her head. “He’s dead.” She pulled her hands back and ran them through her hair. “At first I was glad.” She sniffled. “I thought, ‘Well, maybe he didn’t reach out because he died when we were really little. Maybe he wanted to but couldn’t.’” She shook her head. “But that wasn’t the case. You had just started college and I was in my senior year of high school when it happened.” She shook her head. “He had plenty of time and more than enough chances to reach out to us. He just chose not to. You were right. I knew you were. I just didn’t want to hear it.”

  “Hey, it’s all right. You’re not the only one that thought about it.” Cooper wrapped her arm around her younger sister. “It drove me crazy growing up, so much so that I think it caused me to grow callous about him. I was bitter about him leaving Mom. About him leaving us.”

  “Did you know Mom reached out to him a few times?” Beth reached for her purse and pulled out a few yellowed pieces of paper. “She wrote him five times. I found it in some of her stuff. They were all returned to sender, but they were dated when we must have been only three or four. These were kind of what sparked my interest.”

  Cooper handled the papers gently. They were brittle and some of the ink had faded and smudged, and she noticed stains that dotted the paper, blurring some of the lines. “I can’t believe she tried to reach out to him. She’d always yell at us anytime we tried to talk about him.” She rose from the couch and paced the living room floor absentmindedly, reading through the pages.

  “She wanted him to come back. She wanted him to be a part of our lives. But I guess someone can only stay ignored for so long before they get angry.”

  “I can’t believe she never told us about these.” Cooper finally looked up. “Where did you find them?”

  “She kept them in the attic at the house. It looked like they hadn’t been touched in years. Honestly, I was surprised she kept them.”

  Cooper looked back down at the faded notes. She examined the smudges, the hurried scribblings. Her mother had written these when she was desperate, when the prospect of raising two toddlers by herself in a run-down apartment and living off of minimum wage became too burdensome. They’re not letters of love—they’re cries for help.

  “My plane leaves in the morning.” Beth had risen to her feet. “And it’s getting late, so I should probably head back. I don’t like being on the roads at this hour for too long.”

  “You could stay here.” Cooper glanced around at the feeble apartment, bare of all furniture save for the musty couch, bookshelf, and lamp. She shrugged, knowing that the furnishings left much to be desired. “I’ll take the couch. You could have the bed.”

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “All right.” Cooper extended the letters back to her sister, but Beth held up her hand.

  “You keep them. I’ve read them so many times I practically have them memorized.” She reached back into her purse and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “Look, I know it’s a sore spot for you, and it wasn’t like this was easy for me or anything, but if you’re ever curious, or if you ever want to know what I found out, then let me know.” She reached for Cooper’s hand and forced the crumpled paper into her palm. “I know you have resources at the department. If you want to look him up, that’s his name.” She hugged her one more time. “I love you, Addy. You should call me sometime.”

  Cooper squeezed back harder, nearly dropping the letters and the crumpled paper. “I love you too. And I will.” She walked her sister to the door and down the stairs, where she had her rental car parked on the street. “Call me when you land, all right?”

  “I will.” Beth tossed her bag in the backseat and gave her sister one last hug. “And you should clean your apartment. It’s like my kids were living there. I think I saw something move while I was waiting for you.” She smiled and leaned against the driver’s side with the door open. “Take care of y
ourself, Addy.”

  “Tell the kids I say hi.”

  Beth lowered herself behind the wheel and when she drove off Cooper found herself walking the same direction. She followed until the glow of the taillights disappeared and then lingered in the street a while longer.

  Cooper looked down to the crumpled paper and letters still clutched in her hands. She trudged back up the steps to her apartment. How could she have reached out to him like that? How could she have kept us in the dark for so long? Cooper crumpled the letters, a flush of anger reddening her cheeks. The neighbor she passed on her first trip inside stopped her in the hallway. “It’s fine, Mrs. Crooner. It was just my sister.”

  “Oh, thank God.” She offered an accentuated sigh and placed her liver-spotted hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “I didn’t know what to think. The neighborhood is just not what it used to be.”

  “Have a good night, Mrs. Crooner.” Cooper ducked back into her apartment before the old woman chewed her ear off. She tossed the letters on the kitchen counter and grabbed the half-full bottle of whiskey, leaving the glass, but still kept the crumpled paper with her father’s name. She unscrewed the lid and took a swig of the liquor, letting the bitter taste flood her mouth, sending a shiver down her spine as she swallowed.

  Now alone, she examined the squalor that was her apartment. The dirty floors, the barren walls, the old furniture that looked more at home on the curb than a living room. She walked over to the bookcase, taking another swig of whiskey, reached between a pair of thick folders, and pulled a binder from between them. Dust circled her face, and she coughed from the congested air.

  With drink in hand, Cooper leaned back on the sofa then rested the bottle of whiskey and the binder on the cushion next to her and closed her eyes. After barely eating anything all day, and the lack of sleep the night before, she already felt the warm rush the liquor provided. “Just let it go, Coop.” She shook her head back and forth slowly then reached for the liquor bottle once more. “There isn’t anything down that road. Nothing.”