Invisible Killer

Chapter 3

Everybody arrived at the county jail, and the two policemen walked Bruce Kenzington through the front doors. The teens followed the officers into the building and into the available interrogation room. One of the officers unlocked the room and pushed the suspect inside. Troy grabbed Bruce by the arm from the cop.
"Thank you, officers! We can take it from here," said Lyndsay as she shook their hands.
"You're welcome. We'll be right out here in the hallway if you need us," informed one of the cops.
"Thank you!" The cops tipped their caps and exited out into the hallway. Lyndsay closed the door, turned around to face her friends, and smiled deviously. "Okay boys...you know what to do." She snapped her fingers.
Troy and Ryan grabbed Bruce and together, they dragged him over to the table. They sat him down in the metal chair and handcuffed both of his hands to the tabletop. They left Bruce alone and moved to the opposite wall with the girls. Rachelle and the boys leaned up against the wall as Lyndsay took a seat in front of Bruce.
"Hello, Mr. Kenzington. Allow me to introduce ourselves...," she began as she went down the line. "My name is Lyndsay Schafer, and these are my acquaintances: Rachelle Truman, Troy James, and Ryan Jones. How are you doing?"
"I was doing just fine until you guys just decided to randomly bring me downtown," replied Bruce without a care in the world. "What's this all about?"
"We brought you down here to ask you some questions."
"Well Lyndsay Schafer, you can save your breath, because you won't be getting any answers out of me. I don't care what you do to me. You'll never get me to talk."
"Oh, you're going to talk," smirked Lyndsay, squinting her eyes.
"I don't think so, sweetheart," Bruce smarted off.
"Either you're going to talk, or you're going to be electrocuted," threatened Lyndsay as she activated Rachelle's tazer.
"I dare you...," Bruce threatened back at her. Lyndsay smiled Emily and jammed the device into Bruce's rib cage, tasing him. Bruce cried in pain from the shock in which he quickly gave in.
"Okay, okay...," he cried. Lyndsay pulled the tazer away from his body. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know." Lyndsay lowered her eyelids halfway and softly grinned deviously.
"Let's begin with this question: Why did you steal a Remington Model 31 shotgun from Scheel's?" Lyndsay began the questioning process.
"It wasn't my doing, okay? I was told to steal it by someone else," Bruce pleaded.
"What do you mean that someone else told you to do it?"
"Did somebody threaten you by making you steal a shotgun?" Troy joined in on the conversation.
"No," answered Bruce.
"Did someone pay you to rob the store?" asked Ryan.
"No."
"Then why did you do it?"
"That actually happens to fall under the category of 'none of your business'."
Rachelle rolled her eyes and lost her temper with a grunt. She slammed her palms on the surface, and shoved her business up to his face. "I've about had enough of this. Look...either you start talking, or we're going to have some problems," she grunted through her clenched teeth.
"Who are you working for?" asked Lyndsay.
"Sweetie, that doesn't matter, so why do you care anyway?" demanded Bruce.
"Bruce, we don't have all night. Either you tell us what's going on, or we'll make sure that you wind up dead."
"You're really determined, aren't you?"
Lyndsay's eye began to twitch. She clenched her teeth with fury as she shoved the tazer up in his face. "I demand that you start talking! Now!...Who are you working for?"
"No one," answered Bruce. Lyndsay didn't believe him and tazed him in the rib cage.
"Who are you working for?" she asked him again. Instead of him answering her question, he kept his mouth shut. With him not speaking, it immediately began to agitate Lyndsay. She tazed him again with aggrivation.
"Okay!" Bruce shouted in order for the pain to stop. "This is how it all went down..." He took a deep breath and proceeded with his explanation. "I was at this all-night diner a couple of days ago that was a few miles outside of town. I was sitting at the back when this girl walked in. She looked insanely attractive, so I went over to her to talk to her. Before I could even say 'hi,' she took a really good look at me and immediately asked me for my phone number. She asked me for my name and if I wanted to make some extra cash. I already make enough money to cover all of my bills, so I denied the offer. She told me that it wasn't an offer; she demanded that I worked for her."
"I demand that you give me her name," grunted Lyndsay as her eyes slowly got bigger.
"She only told me that her name was Vanessa, and then she left the diner." Lyndsay lowered her eyebrows in confusion and sighed quietly. "Can I go now?" asked Bruce, randomly.
"No!" cried Lyndsay. "You're still under arrest for the murder of Ashley Cruise: the cashier at Scheel's!"
"Ah!" screamed Rachelle as she threw her hands in the air. "This guy is useless!...I'm going home..." Rachelle walked out of the interrogation room and stormed all the way home.
After Lyndsay saw Rachelle leave, she directed her attention back to Bruce. "Thank you for your time and your cooperation." She looked at Troy and Ryan. "Boys?..." Without any other time, Lyndsay and the boys walked out of the room and headed home.
As soon as Rachelle arrived home, she busted through the front door and stormed upstairs to her bedroom. Still being upset, she slammed her door shut and threw herself on the bed. Her mother entered the room in order to check on her. "Are you okay, honey?" asked Mrs. Truman.
Rachelle leaned up and sat on her bed. "I'm fine...," she answered to her mom.
When Rachelle made eye contact with her mom, she immediately became concerned in a slightly harsh tone. "Rachelle Lynn, what is that?..." She approached her daughter and grabbed her neck to look at the mark. "You better not have gotten into a fight!"
"It's nothing mom. Don't worry about it," denied Rachelle as she pulled her neck away.
"Then where did it come from?" Mrs. Truman rested fists onto her hips.
"You won't believe me if I tell you."
"Rachelle Lynn Truman, you better tell me or I'm going to get your father, and you can tell him."
"You won't believe me..."
Mrs. Truman sighed as she shook her head. She released her fists from her hips headed downstairs. "Honey!...," she called for her husband on the way down. He heard his wife and met her at the bottom of the staircase. "I think that you need to go take a look at your daughter. You need to take a good look at her neck and see if you can get her to talk," said Mrs. Truman. Her husband didn't like the proposition that was delivered. He grunted and headed up to Rachelle's bedroom with his wife in tow.
He walked into his daughter's bedroom and demanded that Rachelle show him the mark. Rachelle, terrified of her father's voice, gave in and showed the bruise to him. He saw the mark and became devastated with anger.
"Rachelle Lynn Truman, so help me...," he began to hiss. "If you got into a fight, then you are so grounded!"
"I didn't get into a fight," moaned Rachelle. Her dad crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "If I told you what happened, then you wouldn't believe me," she added.
"Rachelle Lynn Truman, you better tell me what happened, or you're really going to make me mad," grunted Mr. Truman. Rachelle kept herself silent and didn't speak again. He quickly noticed that she wasn't talking. "That's okay. I have another way to make you talk."
"I want to tell you, but I don't want to cause anything."
Rachelle's dad wasn't moved. He removed his belt from the belt loops, grabbed Rachelle by the arm, and threw her off to the side. He folded his belt in half and slapped Rachelle on the behind. The stinging pain caused her to tear up as the rom the belt's leather moved down her legs. She was whacked a couple more times until she finally gave in.
"I was strangled by an intruder!" she screamed with tears running down her cheeks.
Her father was pleased that she answered his question, but he wasn't satisfied with the response. "Get up!" he demanded as he pulled her up from the floor. "Sit..." He threw her down on the bed.
Mr. Truman kneeled down in front of his daughter. He made eye contact with her, who was still slightly sobbing. "Tell me what happened," he requested in a low tone of his voice.
Rachelle sniffled, grabbed a tissue from her nightstand, and used it to wipe away her tears. She took a deep breath and spoke to her father. "An intruder broke into my bedroom the other day. They tried to kill me by choking me," she told him.
Mr. Truman sighed disappointedly. He carefully placed his hands up to Rachelle's bottom jaw and moved her head to the side in order to see the bruise. The mark was still a little swollen. It was a dark purple spot with a greenish tint around the outline. He barely pushed on the bruise in order to feel it. "Does it hurt?" he asked Rachelle.
"No sir. It did at first, but now it's beginning to heal," answered Rachelle.
He released his hands from Rachelle's neck. Rachelle turned her head to face her father. Mr. Truman laid a hand on Rachelle's knee and said, "You need to always come to me whenever you're in trouble. Do you understand me?"
"Yes sir," she mumbled.
Mr. Truman grabbed a tube of Neosporin from Rachelle's bathroom, squeezed a dab onto his finger, and gently rubbed it on Rachelle's bruise.
"There...," he mumbled as he screwed the cap back onto the tube. "Maybe that will help speed up the healing process."
"Thank you!..." Mr. Truman saw how upset Rachelle was. He gave her a hug of respect and kissed her on the forehead.
"I love you, baby Ray," he smiled.
"I love you too." Rachelle smiled back. Her dad stood up from the floor and walked out of Rachelle's bedroom. Rachelle, rubbing the excess pain from her back end, rose up from the bed to throw away her used tissue. She stood in the middle of her room until she saw her window. She approached the window pane, looked through the glass, and saw the backyard pool.
"I think that I'll go for a swim. It'll help calm me down and clear my head," she suggested to herself. She opened the middle drawer of her dresser, pulled out her swimsuit, and changed outfits. Her swimsuit was a tankini. The design was a spiral tie dye with pastel colors including pink, purple, baby blue, and white. The top had straps that wrapped around her neck and bottoms were like a pair of underwear.
As soon as she changed into her tanking, she headed downstairs to the backyard. She walked outside and approached one of the white lounge chairs. After she sat her things down, she walked towards the edge of the inground pool. She removed her cover-up, tossed it at the occupied lounge chair, and did a back flip into the water.
After Rachelle swam for around ten minutes, a type of gasoline known as Diethyl Ether was secretly thrown into the Chlorine water. Without a moment too soon, the Diethyl Ether caused the top of the pool to be sat on fire. As the flames began to rise, Rachelle suddenly smelled the ashes. Being gagged from the smoke, she was having a difficult time breathing while not being able to move. She paniced and immediately screamed for her father's attention.
"Daddy!" she cried as loud as her voice could get.
Mr. Truman heard the cry. "Rachelle?" he worried. He left the living room, looked out the back window, and saw the pool bursting into flames. "Jenny! Call 9-1-1! The pool's on fire!" he called out to his wife from the kitchen.
Mr. Truman ran outside to rescue his daughter. He kneeled down on the edge of the pool, grabbed Rachelle's arms, and immediately pulled her out of the pool. She was rescued from the burning pool water and sat on the edge. Seconds later, the ambulance showed up. They rushed to the fire through the gate and put the fire out with liquid nitrogen. To move Rachelle out of the way, Mr. Truman placed his another arm under her legs and carried her away from the pool. He approached the lounge chair and carefully sat her down. Finally, he wrapped a towel around Rachelle in order to keep her dry
She still had a little difficulty breathing, so one of the paramedics gave her an oxygen mask. After the fire was put out completely, the fire department left the scene and headed back into town. They closed the gate, and the paramedics checked Rachelle's pulse and blood pressure. Her heart rate was 60 to 100 beats per minute, and her blood pressure was 120 over 80.
"The good news is that your heart rate and blood pressure were both normal," said the paramedic, feeling relieved for Rachelle. "What happened?"
"I was just swimming in the pool until it was suddenly sat on fire," answered Rachelle.
"It's a good thing that your dad saved you in time. Other wise, you would've needed some alternative care."
"Thank you," Rachelle and her dad greeted to the paramedic as she headed back to the ambulance.
As the paramedic walked away from Rachelle, another girl paramedic approached her. "You need to be more careful. You gave us quite a 'scare'," she informed in an envious tone.
Rachelle immediately became suspicious towards the paramedic's strange tone. The paramedic used her left-hand to record some notes down on her clipboard. "Anyway...have a great day...if you're still alive by then...," she muttered deviously.
Rachelle witnessed the slightly evil spirit in the paramedic's uneasy eyes as she walked away. "Now that was really strange...," mumbled Rachelle with concern. Her father saw everything that Rachelel saw and was just as concerned as she was. "What's wrong, honey?" he asked.
"It was really weird of how that paramedic said that statement. It sounded quite deviously," she pointed out with slight confusion.
"It's probably nothing. She was probably just having a bad day, or that could just be how she talks to everybody. Don't worry about it," said Mr. Truman.
With the towel still around Rachelle, her father slowly helped her up from the lounge chair. She was stood back on her feet, and her father slowly walked her back inside. As they walked past the burned up pool, Rachelle rapidly noticed some mysterious black powder down on the edge.
"What is that?" she thought. She approached the pool, got down on her knees, grabbed a pair of tweezers from the lounge chair, and used them to pick up the powder particles. As she picked up the spectacles, her father held onto her to keep her from falling in. After the powder was all picked up, Rachelle's father handed her an evidence bag. She opened the Ziplock bag and slowly dropped the powder pieces inside. She then closed the bag, rose up ont other feet, and began to examine the evidence with her dad.
With the bag held up in the air, Mr. Truman became confused. "What kind of powder is it?" he asked Rachelle.
"I don't know. I think that I'm going to have to get Lyndsay to examine its particles to find out what it is," answered Rachelle.
"Do you need me to go with you?" her dad offered.
"No thank you. I'll be fine." Her dad dabbed his head to show his trust.
Rachelle scurried up to her bedroom, ditched the towel, and quickly changed back into her regular clothes. She threw her bathing suit into the bathtub to dry and headed for the front door.
"Thank you, dad for saving me," she told her father when she met him at the bottom of the staircase. Her father smiled softly as she slowly headed for the front door.
Before she could take a step outside, her dad pulled her to him. "I just want you to remember that you need to always come to me whenever you're in trouble," he whispered into her ear. Rachelle flashed him a soft smile, gave him a hug, and walked out the door to head for Lyndsay's.