Gone After the Wind

Chapter 39: Glimpse

In the living room, the officer Cara tasked on calling the plumbing company anticipated her return. Equipped with the knowledge transferred by the company, he ambushed Cara and Eric just as they stepped into the foyer.

His face beamed in delight and elation. “Detective, I found something you’ll be interested in.”

“Humor me.”

“I just got off the call from the company and you were right. One of their own failed or intentionally didn’t check in several days before the kidnapping. However, when they checked the van and its GPS, it pinged on two locations. Here and a motel downtown.”

“You’ve got his name and address?”

“Yes.” The officer nodded and went through his notes. “Glad they weren’t adamant on keeping that. They’re pissed off at him, I think that’s why they exposed his information. His name’s Lionel Richford, twenty-five years old, and lives on Santaville. Just a couple of miles away from here.”

He ripped off the page from his notebook and handed it to Cara.

“I advised them not to notify him of our inquiries. They won’t take any actions until we bring him in. As of now, he’s out doing in-house services in the downtown.”

Cara slipped the note into her jacket, proud and amused at the speed of task done. She smiled and tapped him on the shoulder. His young, anticipating eyes lit. “Well done… uh, what’s your name again?”

“Percy,” he said, nodding like a dog praised by its owner. “Percy Westbrook.”

“Okay, Percy, this is really appreciated. Have you found her phone yet?”

“Not yet. I already called her service provider. They’ll call us soon to deliver her phone history.”

“I’ll wait. Call me once you have it. Thank you, Percy.” The latter nodded with enthusiasm. They proceeded to the staircase, only to be stopped on their tracks by Madera whose sour, tired mood had been cast over by a ray of glee.

“Good news, Detectives. We found the nest.” Madera propped the tablet up on her chest. She swiped to the right and a photo of a cluttered space appeared. It was littered with abandoned things. Unused appliances and unbranded clothes. In the photos, there were boot prints pasted on the dusty floor.

“The basement. Quite typical, right? He’s brilliant not to touch anything. No fingerprints, etc. But stupid enough to leave his boot prints on the stairs, the space near the egress, and this huge stock pile of mess.”

“He’s watching her there,” Eric commented.

Cara agreed. “That’s how he knew when and how Candy departed.”

“That’s right. And oh, remember the substance we found in the trunk of her car? We found drops of them on this space where he seemed to have crashed every night.”

“It belongs to him, then. Did the lab tell you what it was?”

Madera sighed. “That’s the bad news. They might take longer than intended. I’ll do my best to rush things up.”

“Okay. Ring us up if you have any updates. Thank you.”

“Just doing my job.” Madera handed them the tablet with a smile and took off.

“How did he get in there, if that was his camp?” Eric asked as they ascend to the stairs.

Quickly operating her phone, Cara showed her the screenshots of the video she had taken. “Candy had a date with this plumber. When she came back, he jumped out of her trunk. Now knowing the garage is few steps away from the basement, my guess is he went straight there.”

“He seemed to be familiar with the house.”

“Perks of watching her everyday.”

Eric scoffed. He gave the phone back. “That rookie’s going to hate you so much after this.”

“Why would she? Like I said, it’s not a competition. If her findings are more reasonable and logically possible, then we’ll follow her lead. We’ll use them as a baseline, not an attack of our authority.”

“If only she’s as mature and as open-minded as you, there’s no problem going that path. But Faucalt knew how to bred his anger properly. It even had a name later.”

“Don’t say that. You’re the one who’s telling me to leave them alone and now…” Cara’s eyebrow lifted.

Eric shrugged. He folded the sleeves of his jacket, showing hairy forearms. He looked at her proudly. “It’s different… now that they’ve crossed the line.”

“Moore has gotten into your nerves, hasn’t she?” Cara smirked.

Eric’s lips thinned. “A rookie would never.”

They reached Candy’s bedroom and few steps before the door, Moore’s muffled voice could be heard.

Cara and Eric exchanged a look.

“I guess, it has started, then.”

Tugging the edge of her jacket forward, she stepped in first. It felt like a deja vu. Catching Moore coaxing and entertaining a few male officers. She embodied the perfect, magical teacher who comes up as the favorite one of all classes.

She gravitates attention effortlessly. And the way the officers, especially, the men, listened was very different from what Cara remember. The last time she garnered that much attention, she could barely hold two ears. And they were even close at vomiting at the sight of her.

She’s gathered them near the window. She talked so confidently and so smoothly, Cara herself, found reveling at her words. They slinked in silence behind the crowd.

“That brings me to my next point,” Moore went on. Her eyes locked on Cara. She smirked. “You’re just in time, Ms. Black. The fun is getting started. Why don’t you get in line so you could hear clearer?”

Heads spun and hypercritical eyes drilled into her. Faucalt’s smirk highlighted the spotlight.

“b***h,” Eric murmured.

“I’m fine,” Cara replied, much interested at her theory than the aggressiveness.

“Your loss.” Moore shrugged. “Moving on. It’s not that complicated, you know. Tracking the activities of our perp may seem baffling and mind-f*****g but really, when you’ve put the pieces together, the answer is right there all along, staring at you in the face. That answer, in this case, is our perp followed Candy Filimon from her workplace. Sneaked into the this bedroom, waited inside the bathroom, and struck her at a moment’s notice. His original plan wasn’t to render her conscious and kidnap her after. Her death was signed the second he entered this house. He’s got three things to accomplish. Murder her, flee away and left the crime undetected.”

“Did she talk to Madera or the technicians?” Cara asked in a low voice.

“Only for the specifics. She refused to listen to her when Madera mentioned the substance, saying it’s irrelevant. She compared notes with the technicians but didn’t dwell on. She got dispirited by the lack of evidence in there.”

Cara shook her head in disappointment. “She’s fitting the evidence into her theory. It’s the error we’ve all been warned about as rookies. I can’t believe Faucalt is allowing that potential to be wasted for his ego.”

“She’s allowing it either. Let her be. It’s her fall. Might as well become the audience when she lands.”

Moore is disrespectful, yes, but she’s full of naivety. Her prized skills as an investigator was clearly the blinkers to her judgment. Faucalt fed on her natural hunger for admiration and as payment, Faucalt is controlling her for his gain.

It’s pitiful and frustrating.

“He planned it. His mind was set to kill her. No matter what the consequences would be. This goal explains why at the first sight of her, he immediately grabbed her head and slammed it. No hesitation. No delayed response. And obviously, no motive to set her up for his fantasies,” Moore explained.

Cara’s eyes squinted. Is she…

“Therefor, I strongly believe, based on these facts, that Candy Filimon was a victim of a deranged, lonely and rejected man. If I would want our suspects list to be narrowed down, I’ll tell you that it’s one of her lovers.”

“Are you saying this is not one of the ‘Marionette Killings’?” inquired one officer.

“I’d like to say ‘yes’ but the evidence and the facts suggested we’ve assumed wrong. Candy Filimon just happened to be involved in a web of affairs and this is what had gotten her.”

“If this isn’t one of the killings, should we go after that man, instead of the ‘Marionette Killer’?”

“We should, if everyone will cooperate.” Her eyes went to Cara again.

Ridiculous, she thought. So f*****g ridiculous.

Mystery solved. The motive behind their team is to protect Meredith. All of these had been made to steer the investigation away and bury down the noise of the so-called ‘Marionette Killer’.

“Oh, boy, she’s gotten really delusional.” Eric scoffed. “Stop her before it gets worse.”

Cara pressed a thumb to her temple. “Let’s hear the rest first.”

Eric sighed heavily.

“I’ve cleared part. Do you want to add anything, Detective Black?” Moore clasped her hands behind and ambled around the crowd, leading to her.

“Just one question. What made you believe this isn’t the work of the perp we’re chasing?”

“Everything. The M.O, the attack, and the victim. His M.O doesn’t match up with the previous killings. He struck in mid day light. His van was nowhere to be seen. And he attacked Candy to the point of killing her. He’s not driven by a fantasy. If he was, wrecking her face would be the last thing he’d want to do. Appearance is significant in his work, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Ruining it will exterminate the purpose of his fantasy. It’s unlikely that he suddenly thought of not following his methods. And then there’s the victim. She’s unmarried, childless, and had no history of ever liking or hating dolls. The previous victims had led problematic lives. Whereas Candy, obviously, is a successful, well-off woman. Nothing in her life indicates she’s a high-risk victim. Just a potential victim of love triangle gone wrong.”

“Okay. That makes sense.”

“See? You’re getting it.” Moore smiled. “And then there’s the dandelion. The trademark the killer always used is missing. If Candy was indeed the next victim, we would’ve already found it.”

Silence engulfed the room. All eyes landed on Cara, waiting for her response. She remained mum, staring at the window as thoughts raced in her mind.

“Your theory is really impressive, Moore. It’s sensible, groundbreaking, and believable.” Sighing, Cara trudged past the crowd to stand near the door frame of the bathroom. “If only you had looked at every evidence, I would completely agree with you.”

“What does that mean?” More walked closer, shoulders tensing.

“You know what I meant.” Cara faced her, exposing the hard truth. “Evidence that you purposefully neglect to complete your narrative.”

“Okay, cut it out, Black. Moore has gone over every physical evidence that had been collected. And this is the conclusion she deduced based on them. If you’ve got any problems with that, come up with your own and leave us out of it.” Faucalt placed his hands on his either side, challenging Cara.

“Don’t have to tell me, boss,” Cara looked straight at him. She smiled. “I already did. And it’s a far outcry from what you want us all to believe.”

Moore glanced at Faucalt who fumed at Cara’s words. His face reddened. “Cut the bullshit and say what you want to say.”

“First, I want you to ignore Detective Moore’s verdict that this case doesn’t belong to the--as you dubbed it--’Marionette Killings’ nor is it another example of a deadly love triangle. Candy Filimon may have been leading a controversial lifestyle, it doesn’t completely exclude her from being the next victim.” Cara paced around the room. “Let’s not forget that what we know of her is only the surface, details that she extracted to not expose her true lifestyle.”

“That doesn’t make her a viable victim of your perpetrator, too,” Moore interjected.

“You’re right. It doesn’t. But with these, I’m betting my life she would’ve become one.” Cara handed her cellphone to Eric who passed it to Moore. She played the video and immediately, her face fell.

“What’s this?”

“Footage from the house across the street. Showing the point of entrance and time of the break-in. He did follow her home, however, Candy was on leave at that time. She was bound to leave the next morning but she still went to a date with the plumber, giving the killer the opportunity to sneak in without being detected,” Cara continued. “At some point while they were returning back from the motel, he crept inside her trunk and stayed there until Candy got home. It was effortless for him to infiltrate the house as he had surely canvassed the area weeks before. He knew every blind spots of the house. Probably the reason why he chose the basement as his lodge. He knew Candy rarely visited it.”

Eric swiped the tablet open and showed them pictures of the basement. Moore didn’t even glance at it as Eric passed it over for them to look. Her eyes remained fixated on Cara, absorbing every word flowing out of her mouth and watching every gesture made with it. Cara wondered for a second the thoughts behind encircling her large, rounded eyes. If it was being processed by a positive machine or the opposite.

“Those boot prints, as the CSI surmised, looked eerily similar to the boot impressions we’ve collected from the Hupman and Sykes crime scene. They have yet to confirm if it’s a match. Notice that it doesn’t look any different from the prints in the bathroom,” Cara explained. “Swipe to the left and you’ll see the exhibit of the foreign substance that--”

“Hold on, Black,” Faucalt chimed in, holding the tablet. “I don’t know how you got these evidence but I find it suspicious that you’re the only one who seems to be aware of them. If these indeed exist, Moore should be the first to get ahold of them.”

Moore bit her lower lip, glancing at Faucalt nervously.

“I’m sorry but are you implying that we planted these evidence, Sir?” Eric asked.

Faucalt glared at him. “Don’t take it too far, Sautner, I’m just asking out of confusion. But if that’s how it sounded, well… did you?”

“That’s absurd!” Eric bellowed and looked around. “You know damn well we’re not like that.”

Faucalt shrugged. “I don’t know, Eric. I’m sensing you’re both prepared to do anything just to win this case over.”

Cara’s head throbbed as anger spilled in every corner of her veins. Her body’s temperature increased and she felt hot under the collar of her jacket.

“If it’s credibility you’re looking for, call every officer I talked to and every CSI I approached. Ask them, comprehend them or even interrogate them, do what will ease your mind!” Cara argued, fighting the urge to grab his collar and land a blow on his cheek. Respect and ranks be damned. “I did every procedure, every protocol in the book. How is it suspicious that my hard work and effort paid off the right way? Not every detectives worships your work, Sir. Some of us wants to do it clean.”

“What did you say?” Faucalt advanced, eyes ready to see Cara dead on the floor. “Accuse me like that again and you’ll--”

“Sir.” Moore’s voice intercepted. Faucalt’s head snapped toward her. She cast a meaningful, cautious glance to the silent officers listening to the banters. “Maybe it’s best that we set aside this for a moment.”

Faucalt’s belly huffed as he let out a weak, frustrated groan. He looked sharply at the officers. Then he raised his palms, lips stretching for a frosty smile. He gestured for Cara to continue, neck still clotted with bulging veins, and turned his back.

“Thank you,” Cara muttered, shooting Faucalt one final venomous glance. She took deep, steady breaths to placate herself. “Before I continue, if any of you are still skeptical of these evidence that I presented, you’re welcome to verify their authenticity. Gather the CSI or check with the officers. Do what you think is right and I won’t mind losing one or two audiences. You’re welcome. However, don’t stop me from translating the essence of these clues to the manner I see fit as it’s my job to do so.”

Silence ensued and all of them seemed to have no interest of intervening or just have no care at all. Treating the thick silence as consent, Cara nodded. “That’s more like it.”

“Back to the substance I was talking about, you could see from the exhibits that it has tainted every known point of contact of our guy. The basement, the bathroom and… the trunk. CSI is absolute that it’s the same material used to coat the victims. They need verification from the lab but knowing these exists from the previous crime scenes, it’s safe to say this is, undoubtedly, the work of the monster we’ve all been dreaming about to get our hands on.”

Cara released a sigh and footed the door of the bathroom. Suddenly, the air went stale. Her pores seemed to have shrunk, allowing the cold to seep through her skin as she stare at the puddle of blood on the floor. She closed her eyes and the floor vanished beneath her feet. Her head felt light as darkness got thicker and heavier, suffocating her consciousness until Cara Black doesn’t exist anymore and there was only him.

His noisy, depraved thoughts broke out. And the first image that danced in his mind was Candy’s wet auburn head ramming onto the tiled floor by big, strong hands. The intent was to maim and incapacitate but she made him angry again. Her face and everything about her just awakened some senses that not of the previous specimens was able to do to him.

He thought it’s too much. Breaking her skull. And ruining the pattern of her sweet, traitorous face. But just for a second, he’d allow his rage spoke for himself. He’d make amends, anyway. He’d reimburse the damage by exerting extra effort on her transformation. He’d make her beautiful again. Another crack won’t hurt, would it?

His thoughts raced and although a small, faint voice whispered to him to stop, to reserve his energy for fleeing, he just couldn’t let go. His fingers nourished every adrenaline pumping through with each slam, clawed on her head like a powerful magnet. How could he abandon this rigorous and heaven-like sensation? It’s what he came for. It’s the reason he started his project. And it’s the bullet that kept him running for the race.

She moaned and her face paled. His heart throbbed at the excitement. Just one more and he’ll--

“Cara?”

Her eyes snapped open and gasped for air. Her eyes blurred and at the lightness of her head, she had to grasp the doorway to keep herself afloat. One hand supported her arm and when she turned her head, Ervin’s contorted, soft face projected at her sight.

“Are you okay? Can you stand?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“Yeah. I just…” She shook her head, clearing away the darkness inside her mind. The voice faded. The killer’s perspective shut down. “I need a moment.”

“Take it easy, okay? You didn’t have to do… that thing in here.”

Cara clamped her trembling hand on her soaked forehead. “I need to understand what separated Candy from the rest. This isn’t his usual behavior, Eric.”

“Could have done that just by using that big brain of yours. Look what happened. You know what it does to you. You’re paler than my bank accounts, Black.”

Cara chuckled weakly. “Shut up.”

“Jesus, you need a room or what?” Faucalt asked from the back.

Eric hissed, helping Cara to stand properly. “No!”

She tapped his shoulders, urging him to go back. “Go on. Continue what I started. I can handle myself.”

“And what? Leave you here? Let them wait.”

“This is gonna fuel some rumors, Eric. Don’t let Faucalt find something to bully us again.” She forced herself to stand up by gripping on the doorway. Lightly pushing his shoulder away, she smiled, “Leave. Go get your spotlight. It’s not fair that I’m raking all the praises, you know. They might just remember you as the sidekick of the badass detective.”

His face contorted as if disgusted. He let go of her that instant, obviously weighing Cara’s words and actually believing it. “I’ll be back. And when I do, you better be standing on your both teeth or I’ll drag you to ER myself.”

Cara waved a dismissive hand at him, pretending that wasn’t such a good idea. She held her breath as he tugged the door and left a small space. Soon as he fully disappeared back into the room, all the tension in her body loosened. Including the control she held over her stomach which flipped and twisted, forcing her to into the nearest trash can to expel everything inside it.

She retched, her insides threatening to spill out. It lasted a minute but her head seemed to have been getting pounded by a hammer for the last hour. She leaned her cold, sweaty back against the wall. The headache had begun to subside but her anxious heart was still rampaging like a beast in her chest. If the vomit didn’t come first, she would have surely passed out. She wouldn’t be waking up for the next ten hours.

It’s a development, she thought, reminiscing the times that she almost got in a coma several times that she entered the mind of a killer for more than an hour. The post-slippings were way worse back then. Hallucinations, migraine and memory loss. It’s all she had to deal with. She’s relieved the costs had lessened.

Her body could be a real traitor sometimes. Everything she felt were the way of her system protesting against that abomination. It couldn’t handle watching two consciousness to exist in one place. Especially that if the other borders on the line of complete darkness.

Shutting her eyes firmly, she jerked her knees to stand up. She sucked in a breath and tried to dust away the cobwebs of the transition. Using a pen that she tucked away in the back of her slacks, she opened the faucet and splashed her face with water.

Face warmed, she stared at her reflection on the mirror. Eric wasn’t lying. She indeed look liked a corpse. Deepened eyes. Hollow cheekbones. And the color, it resembled a pale gray sky.

She’s never had a decent sleep ever since the whole thing started. All her energy had been drained by either thinking of the case or chasing endless line of leads. She’s reserved a minuscule part that she’d use whenever a substantial clue comes up.

But today, even that had been thoroughly exhausted.

Sighing, she wiped her face with her handkerchief. Doesn’t matter. It was worth the risk, anyway. Diving into that abyss provided light than she expected. It had been dangerous but at least now, she knows what it feels like.

She feels connected. In sync with the perpetrator. That connection was the key on understanding him. Although it’s morally, ethically wrong, empathizing is the only way she’d be able to interpret the canvass of his mind.

And she did. His design on this artwork looks understandable now. She knows what lured him into disturbing his methodically structured pattern. She knows why it’s a mess. She knows why Candy Filimon is the second to most important victim among the rest.

He’s made a mistake. Now that it’s out waiting in the open to be picked up, Cara feels more alive and energized than ever.