The Fallen

Chapter 3

“I don’t know him,” said the older cop, who on the way inside the house had told Decker and Jamison that he was Officer Will Curry. His partner shook his head too. They were looking down at the man in uniform lying on the floor of the basement. They had already seen the body upstairs, and neither of the officers had recognized him either.

Curry pointed to the man’s chest. “No nameplate. We all wear one.”

“Would you know him?” asked Decker. “I mean, is the police force that small around here?”

Curry thought about this for a few moments. “I don’t know every person in uniform, but I do know a lot of them.”

Decker said, “There’s no pistol in his holster.”

Curry nodded. “Yeah, I saw that. And there’s no comm pack either. Look, I need to call this in. Homicide will be taking this over. Donny, we need to tape the perimeter. And don’t let anybody near this place.”

Donny left to do this while Curry pulled out his phone, walked over to a far corner of the basement, and made the call.

Decker knelt down and looked over the body.

Jamison gazed over his broad shoulder. “How did he die?” she asked.

“No obvious wounds. Just like the guy upstairs, although there’s all that blood.”

“Death by hanging is usually bloodless,” said Jamison. “Unless something ruptured inside the guy and it came out somewhere.”

“There was no blood on his clothes,” replied Decker. “So, I don’t see how that could be the case.”

Curry came back over to them. “Okay, I’ll need to get your statements, and you both need to get out of here. The detectives will have my head if they find you here.”

They walked back upstairs and filed out the rear door. Curry noted the damage. “How’d that happen?”

“That would be me breaking into the house,” said Decker. “I’ll explain why.”

The storm had mostly passed, the skies had cleared some, and a few stars could actually be seen overhead.

Curry pulled out his notepad. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

First Decker and then Jamison gave their accounts. As they finished they heard someone calling out to them.

“Alex, is everything okay?”

They all turned to see Amber and Zoe at the rear fence that separated the two properties.

“Go back inside, I’ll be there in just a few minutes,” Jamison called back. She turned to Curry as Amber and Zoe returned to their house.

“My sister Amber and her daughter, Zoe. We’re visiting with them.”

“So they live there?” said Curry.

“Yes.”

“We’ll need to talk to them. They might have seen something leading up to whatever happened to the two vics.”

“Sure, that’s fine,” said Jamison.

“What is it that you two do at the FBI?” asked Curry.

“We track down people who hurt other people,” said Decker. “Just like what happened in that house.”

Curry seemed to sense where Decker was going with this. “This isn’t a federal case.”

“It’s funny how things can appear to be one thing and then turn into something else,” replied Decker. “So maybe we can help.”

“Decker,” said Jamison in an offended tone. “We’re on vacation. We’re here to get away from all that stuff.”

“Maybe you are,” said Decker. “But I had no reason to get away from ‘all that stuff.’”

“Not my call,” said Curry. “You can take it up with homicide.”

“Fair enough,” said Decker.

Curry closed his notebook. “But since you’re here now, you got any thoughts on the matter?”

Decker glanced back at the house. “Hanging someone is personal. It’s a control thing. It’s a terrible way to die because that guy simply strangled to death, or maybe his vertebrae finally popped. Either way, it takes a while.”

“And the blood?” asked Curry.

“Where did it come from? If he bled out somewhere else and the blood was collected and brought here and spread out on the floor, what was the point?”

“And the guy in the basement?” asked Curry.

“Is he a cop or not? If not, why was he in uniform? And again, how did he die? I didn’t see an obvious wound, but there was some foam on the mouth, so it might be poison. And another thing. Who owns this house? Was it the two men? Or somebody else?”

Curry had reopened his notebook and was jotting things down. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. I think your ME might have a tricky time determining the time of death.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because what I saw tonight was pretty much forensically impossible.”