Now Say You're Sorry Read online

  Now Say You’re Sorry

  A Reese Clayton and Emerson Lake Novel

  Barbara Fournier

  The characters and events in this book are a work of fiction. Names, places and incidents are the product of the authors imagination. Any similarity to real persons living or dead

  is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2021 Barbara Fournier

  All rights reserved

  Cover and interior design by Caroline Teagle Johnson

  ISBN: 978-1-7366109-0-9 E-Pub

  ISBN: 978-1-7366109-1-6 Paperback

  ISBN: 978-1-7366109-2-3 Hardcover

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to those family members we lost during the COVID-19 pandemic beginning in March of 2020.

  My brother Richard Biittig. Just nine days later, his wife Barbara Biittig

  My nephew Robert Biittig. His sister, (my niece) Lori Biittig Warner shortly after.

  My sister-in-law Millie Biittig

  My sister-in-law Carolyn Biittig

  My brother-in-law’s mom Jean Mieczkowski

  May you Rest in Peace

  Chapter 1

  I’m told to be very still, to close my eyes tightly.

  “Do not cry.” the voice echoes through my ears. “I will hold you; I will love you.”

  My wrists scream as he holds them above my head. My thighs throb from his weight, the cloth covered buttons on the sheetless mattress press into my back.

  “I will enter your body, for now you are mine and I am yours. I am all that you asked for in your letters to Santa. When I am finished, I will bathe you in warm water to ease your pain. But now you must say what I want to hear. NOW! SAY IT NOW!” he screams with urgency in his body and fury in his soul. “SAY IT!”

  I give in. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” My fear and my hope, I will not survive. I cry inside, I hate throughout. Someone help me, please!” No one hears me. No one ever hears me.

  “911 what’s your emergency? 911 what’s your emergency? Are you there?” Covering the mouth piece with her hand, the dispatcher signaled her supervisor. “Don’t know what this is, if anything. No one has said a word.” She removed her hand from the speaker. “Help is on the way I have your address. Try to stay on the phone with me even if you are unable to speak out loud. I’m still here with you. Please don’t hang up.”

  Chapter 2

  “I’m glad to be headed out early. It’s hot and I could swear I heard someone say you were buying drinks at Riley’s,” Emerson Lake chuckled, elbowing his partner in the side.

  Reese Clayton raised an eyebrow, “Seriously, are you ever going to open that wallet, Detective? Let those moths breathe a little.”

  “Excuse me, Detective,” the captain’s voice snapped from behind him.

  Emerson spun around, “Yes, Captain?”

  “You and Detective Clayton head over to this address. 911 call came in. The officers on scene just found a body.”

  “Got it, Captain.”

  Detectives Reese Clayton and her partner Emerson Lake of the Cromwell, South Dakota Police Department headed for the parking garage, suit jackets slung over their shoulders, keeping the same pace. Emerson got in the driver seat, Reese the passenger.

  As they sped along Braxton Avenue, Reese pondered, “You know something, Lake? I was just thinking how it never ceases to amaze me how I always have to buy breakfast after we have a wild romping night of hot sex. Shouldn’t the guy pay for at least a cup of coffee? I mean really?”

  “Ah, real meaning of life question there, Reese, but the answer will have to wait. We’re here.” He gave her broad smile and a wink.

  “Okay,” she smiled back at him, “but you are buying me dinner tomorrow night.”

  “What have we got?” Reese asked the uniformed officer waiting for them at the end of the driveway.

  “You are not going to believe this, detectives. One for the books, for sure.”

  “Where’s the body?”

  “This way, next to the fireplace in the living room.”

  Both squatting down for a closer look. “Shit! What the fuck is this?” Lake declared.

  “I told you, Detectives.”

  “Who called it in?” Lake asked the officer.

  “We don’t know. The call was placed from this address, but no one was here when we arrived. Either the caller didn’t want any part of this discovery or had something to do with it. Paramedics arrived when we did. When we knocked on the door it swung open. We identified ourselves, but no one answered. That’s when we saw the body.”

  Both detectives could easily see this was going to be a long night. A man in his mid to late forties, lay in front of the fireplace. Most of his body wrapped in Christmas paper.

  “What else did you find so far?” Lake questioned the uniformed cop.

  “We’re checking for prints now. Looks like the victim may have had company. Both bedrooms have unmade beds. One has the sheets pulled half off the mattress. That room may have belonged to a child. There is a children’s book on the night stand and the room is painted pink with some stuffed animals strewn around. Looks more girlish. So far, all we know for sure is the home is owned by a man named Adam Chandler. I’m guessing that’s him; we’ll know shortly.”

  “There’s no sign of a struggle, no pool of blood or spatter anywhere, and I can smell chlorine,” Lake stated. “Someone thought they did a fine job covering up their tracks. Hopefully Forensics will find something.”

  “Why the hell is he wrapped in Christmas paper?” asked Clayton. “Where do you even get it this time of year? It’s early June for Christ’s sake.”

  “This guy must have really pissed someone off. I mean they didn’t just kill him and take off…they set a scene…I guess it wasn’t good enough to just plunge a butcher knife directly into his chest. It looks like they glued his eyes shut and tied a bow on his penis like a star on top of a damn Christmas tree!”

  The body was released to the Medical Examiner around 9 pm, but by then the media had gotten wind of what had happened. While Reese was trying to re-enter the crime scene, reporters were already hovering over her like vultures to red meat, shoving microphones in her face. No matter how much crime scene tape there is, the press always manages to avoid it.

  “Boy, that ticks me off,” she whispered under her breath.

  “Detective,” a woman interrupted, pausing to look for the name on Reese’s ID, “Rose Baker here from News Channel 11. Can you tell us what happened? Was this murder or a suicide?”

  “The investigation is still ongoing. When we have more details there will be a press conference. Now please let us do our job.”

  “Brittney Chase with News 24. Who found him? Do you have a suspect? Any witnesses?”

  “There are no statements at this time. Officer, move the press behind the tape please.” She then turned around and went back to the crime scene. This was part of the job, but no one said she had to like it.

  “There has to be someone that saw something or heard something.” Emerson declared as Reese re-entered the house. “It was a nice night. Must have been someone walking their dog or having a beer under the stars or maybe even a teen looking to feel-up his girlfriend on the benches.”

  “Really, Detective?”

  He just laughed at her. The other officers pretended they didn’t hear a thing.

  “Something tells me it’s time for a door-to-door with the neighbors. Reese, you and I will start here. The rest of you head to the park on the east side of the block. Everyone, heads up. We have a killer on the l
oose with a sick sense of humor.”

  Chapter 3

  “I’m Detective Lake and this is Detective Clayton,” Lake said displaying his credentials on the lanyard around his neck. “May we ask you a few questions? Mr.?”

  “Minh Nyung,” answered the very proper sounding man in his late fifties or early sixties.

  “Mr. Nyung. May we ask you a few questions?”

  “Maybe.” He stepped out onto the front porch. Please, have a seat,” he offered, gesturing toward the wooden rockers.

  “We’re fine. Thank you,” Reese replied.

  “What’s this about?”

  “Do you know the gentleman who lives two houses down? An Adam Chandler?”

  “I don’t know much about him except for one thing.”

  “What’s that sir?’

  “He’s no gentleman.”

  Reese shot a quick look at her partner, raising an eyebrow.

  “How’s that?” Emerson continued.

  “He was okay when they first moved in.”

  “They, Mr. Nyung?” asked Detective Clayton. “Who else lives there?”

  “He had a wife; I don’t recall her name; and an adopted daughter. Her name is Kei Lien. The wife died during childbirth, so did the baby. They adopted Kei Lien several years before the wife died.

  “Continue, please,” said Lake.

  “Like I said, he was okay in the beginning, but turned into a raving lunatic after he lost his wife and baby. Claire, that’s it. Her name was Claire,” he said slapping his forehead then running his hand through his straight black hair. “Anyway, he would yell and scream at everyone, even Kei Lien. Like it was her fault. I heard him one morning yelling at her because the laundry was hung on the clothesline wrong. So, what happened at the Chandler house, detectives? One of the neighbors heard on their scanner that someone died. Did he finally kill himself? No loss to the world if he did.”

  “We don’t know yet. We’re looking into it. Thank you for your time Mr. Nyung. If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to call,” Emerson handed him his card and then he and Reese walked back to the car.

  “This case is going to be a nightmare I can feel it in my bones, Emerson,” Reese said pulling the seatbelt over her shoulder.

  “You might be right. For now, though, we need to take this one step at a time.”

  Chapter 4

  Detectives Lake and Clayton, along with several other officers, finished speaking with all the neighbors. No one saw a thing. All anyone said was the Chandlers kept to themselves and that they would hear crying sounds from inside the house from time to time. They figured it was Kei Lien missing her mother.

  “There was no sign of the daughter in the house where the victim was found. I’m guessing we won’t find any adoption records either, at least not in Cromwell, but that’s not unusual.” Reese began to think about different options to learn of Kei Lien’s past. Churches, adoption agencies. “The name Kei Lien sounds like, maybe Vietnamese. What do you think?”

  “The possibilities are endless and the probability of finding where she came from is, at best, one in a million,” Lake answered. “With privacy laws alone, this could go on forever. We need to find this missing girl, Reese. She could be a victim, or a suspect, and who knows how long she’s been missing.”

  His phone rang.

  “Lake. Yes, Captain. Got it. Let’s go, Reese. You’re with me. Another murder.”

  Chapter 5

  “Cromwell Police, Officer Manning.”

  The woman on the other end was hysterically screaming and crying into the phone.

  “Ma’am, I can’t understand you.”

  “Allen, it’s Teresa. I need help now!”

  “Teresa? Calm down I can’t understand what you just said.”

  “I need help. Please help me. Hurry, Allen. Send someone to the house. Martin is dead!”

  Allen immediately got on the radio to alert officers and paramedics.

  Nearly losing his balance getting out of his chair he barged into the Captain’s office.

  “Captain, I just got a call from Teresa Kelsey. She says Martin is dead. I’m on my way over there.”

  “Where? What the hell happened. Did she say?”

  “At the house, she didn’t say what happened just that he is dead. She’s hysterical. I’ll put someone else on the desk.”

  “Just go. I’ll take care of it. I’ll contact Clayton and Lake and tell them to meet you there.”

  Moments later police and emergency teams arrived with lights and sirens blaring. In the house, Teresa sat in total shock staring at the body of her husband, police Sergeant Martin Kelsey, in front of the fireplace. A butcher knife through his heart, a bow tied to his penis, eyes glued shut and the rest of his body wrapped in Christmas paper.

  When Manning arrived on scene, the first words out of his mouth were “Oh, fuck.” He managed to maneuver Teresa off the sofa away from the fireplace. “What happened Teresa? Can you tell me anything? Did you see anything or anyone in the house?”

  She just stared into nowhere, not saying a word, her hand to her throat breathing heavily. He put his arm around her back and her other arm over his shoulder and took her out of the house into the fresh air where she collapsed in a heap.

  “I think she’s in shock,” Allen yelled to the paramedics.

  They rushed over, got her on the gurney, placed an oxygen mask on her face and quickly loaded her in the ambulance and sped away.

  Chapter 6

  News spread fast about the Sergeant. Every media hound in the area showed up. Microphones and cameras hovered over police as soon as an opening allowed. They all got the same answer, no comment.

  The whole city knew the Sergeant and no one could understand who would want to hurt him, except maybe a drunk with too many DWI arrests. Or, possibly one of the local socialites who couldn’t get their kid out of trouble for hosting parties involving underage alcohol or a little too much weed. Other than that, Cromwell was pretty quiet.

  Detectives Lake and Clayton arrived on the scene shortly after the Captain notified them.

  “Is there anyone left at the precinct?” Clayton asked. “Looks like the 4th of July with all the lights.”

  “Lucky us,” Lake replied. “The press is adding to this nightmare.”

  “What a way to start your week. Right, detective?” Manning asked sarcastically.

  Manning wasn’t a huge fan of Lake and everyone knew it. He didn’t care for his attitude.

  “I’m headed back to the office,” he continued. “I’ll fill the captain in on what we have so far.”

  Emerson just tossed a look at the police officer as he walked away. Another officer was walking with them toward the house to keep the media at bay.

  “Where’s the body?” Clayton asked. “Did anyone disturb it in any way?”

  “No. His wife was in shock and could barely breathe when we arrived. Paramedics took her to the hospital. Body is in the den next to the fireplace. His whole body, well most of it, is wrapped in Christmas paper. Butcher knife through his heart. If that wasn’t weird enough, his eyes appear to be glued shut and there is a bow tied around his junk.”

  “Junk? Is that a new age description for a penis, officer? If so, ditch it. Be professional.”

  “Sorry, detective.”

  Lake turned to Clayton.

  “Looks like we have a serial killer on the loose.”

  Chapter 7

  Everyone available from the Cromwell Police force was told to meet in the squad room. Detectives Lake and Clayton were already tossing their ideas around while adding information to the board. The room itself was more like an afterthought when it came to how it was designed, but at least the paint color was a little more calming than the rest of the precinct. A lighter shade of blue. Someone once joked that they must have r
un out of paint and sent the next best thing to dull drab. The room was filled with mostly folding chairs in rows with a few rolling desk chairs mixed in. There was a board in the front. Part push pin, part dry erase board. A podium stood in front of the room.

  “What have we got so far?” The whole room stood at attention out of great respect for their new Captain. Kimimela Brown was the first female Lakota to hold the position of Captain. First impressions to her were bullshit. Show me what you got was more her style.

  “Take it easy. Sit,” she directed. “This is one of us. We need to find who did this and why. No mistakes. Everything by the book. Got it?”

  In unison, “Yes Captain.”

  “Detectives Clayton and Lake will take the lead here. Anything you need...warrants, more boots on the ground...whatever is needed, I’m available 24/7 on this one. I will notify the judge in case we need him spur of the moment. Detective Clayton, take it from here.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Listen up people. We want to make sure there are no mistakes here. Cross your t’s and dot your i’s. We do not want a mistrial when we catch this guy. Now let’s go over what we have. Maybe something will click.”

  “Who says it’s a guy, detective?” a female voice from the back of the room pierced the silence.

  You could almost see the daggers in the Captain’s eyes, but she let the detectives handle it.

  “Who the hell are you and who let you in here? This is police business.” Lake barked.

  “Rose Baker News 11. So, if it wasn’t suicide or accidental, it must be murder. Everyone wants to know what is happening and the Cromwell P.D. is not cooperating to keep the public informed. Again sir, are you sure it was a man?”

  Detective Lake was furious that a stranger could enter the squad room undetected. “Someone please see to it that Ms. Baker is escorted out of the building right now!”

  Officer Manning stood to escort the reporter out of the room.

  “And furthermore, Ms. Baker News 11, this is official business, not a goddamn circus.” Reese shouted at the story monger.