Detective Michael Jerico parked his black mustang behind one of the several ambulances outside The Garfield's residence. It was almost midnight, and it was dark out, but all the headlights and the red and blue flashers on top of the police cars lit the entire street up.
It looked like shadows running around outside the Garfield's brownstone. Police (plain clothes and uniform), emergency medical technicians, firefighters, and news crews.
Detective Jerico got out of his car and adjusted his black necktie.
"Jerico!" Detective Marie Hatcher waved him over.
Detective Hatcher looked her partner up and down. Easy on the eyes, as always. Jerico was dressed in black slacks, a white button down long-sleeve, black blazer, and matching shoes. Hatcher noticed early in her career that most detectives were slobs that dressed like they were on their way to some ghetto family cookout...but not Michael Jerico.
He always looked his best. Not that he ever had a hard time with it. He was over six feet tall, with strong shoulders and a slim waist. He kept his black hair trimmed short, and the beard was in its second day stubble phase.
"What've we got?" Jerico sipped on the cup of coffee he grabbed before arriving on scene.
"Nice to see you too, detective." She smiled slightly. "No small talk?"
"As far as I'm concerned, last night didn't happen." Jerico moved closer and whispered, "you didn't buy me a drink. And you sure as fuck didn't take me back to my place where you used my cock as your own little fuck toy while I laid there. Un-fucking-conscious."
"I was a tad drunk too, but I seem to remember your hands being on me, everywhere. Your fingers? In every hole."
"Christ, Marie. Where the fuck was Danny?"
"You know your brother. He gets in his own little world. And when I say I'm going out with the ladies, he never questions it. I don't think he even cares what I do when I'm out."
"Real talk, Marie? If your stupid white ass ever lets this slip—"
"I won't, baby." Marie grinned. "Jesus fucking Christ. Lighten up a little. Come on. I'll give you the tour of the crime scene."
Jerico entered the Garfield's brownstone and saw blood splatter all over the floor and walls. Hatcher directed his attention to the second floor, and he noticed a tiny arm poking through the spindles. They eased through the crime scene as to not disturb anything and walked upstairs where Jerico finally saw the body for the first time.
"I was told there were two bodies." Jerico sipped his coffee.
"The other vic, a Caucasian female, early twenties, got carried out of here on a stretcher just before you arrived. Gutted all the hell, but still breathing. Last I heard, she was in critical but stable condition on her way to Saint Bernard's."
"Who's this, then?"
"That, my dear chocolate fuck buddy, is Sam Garfield Junior. The fifteen year old son of Cold Harbor City's very own deputy mayor."
"Who in their right mind would do this to a fucking kid?"
* * * *
It was pouring rain by the time Jerico arrived at Saint Bernard's Hospital. The lady sitting at the nurses' station smiled at the handsome, albeit drenched, man approaching her.
"How can I help you?"
Jerico flashed his badge to the nurse. "I'm Detective Jerico. I understand they brought a young female with a stab wound to her abdomen in, not too long ago? I'd like to speak to her."
"Okay, honey. Just let me call the attending."
The doctor arrived a few minutes later, greeting Jerico with a handshake.
"Detective Jerico, Cold Harbor City Police Department. I need to speak to Ella Croft."
"The young lady is highly sedated, right now."
"But is she awake?"
"She is."
"Okay, I want to speak to her."
"I highly recommend that you wait, detective. Any undue stress could place Miss Croft in danger."
"You don't seem to understand the situation, so let me lay it out. Someone murdered a kid tonight, and they tried to kill this girl, too. Have you run a rape kit yet?"
"No. The gaping stab wound in her stomach has been our priority."
"Take me to her."
Detective Jerico entered Ella's room and closed the door. It was quiet, except for the beeping of the vital signs monitor.
"Ella Croft?"
She didn't respond. Jerico leaned into his hands on the bed. "Ella? Can you hear me? My name is Detective Michael Jerico."
Ella's eyes opened, and she looked at Jerico.
"Hey." Jerico smiled warmly. "I need to ask you about what happened. Do you feel like you can put up with me for a few minutes?"
"Sure." Ella's voice was weak and scratchy.
"What can you tell me about who did this?"
"I saw him. I...I know him. I know who did this."
"Who?"
"Elliot Hennigan."
"Do you know this Elliot Hennigan?"
"I babysit for the Hennigan's. He raped me, earlier today—then followed me to my next job for more. I refused. I fought him." Ella started crying. "But he was too strong. Sammy tried to help, but—where is Sam Junior? Is he okay?"
"I'm...sorry."
"No!" Ella cried.
Her hand touched Jerico's, then she gripped it tight. And Jerico did the only thing he could do, hold her while she sobbed into his chest.
YOU ARE READING
The Last Babysitter | Requiem
ParanormalWhen Ella Croft was nine years old, a horrible car wreck changed her life forever. It was then that the Demon known as Pan came to her and offered her a deal. Pan would see that Ella's father, the man that had abused her since she was born, would su...
