Taylor Reynolds

Reynolds 1

Taylor Reynolds

English 280 TTH 12:30-1:45

Professor Thompson

October 18, 2011

Day and Night

A dark grey fog floats over the pale blue ocean. The glare of the bright city lights over the jagged cliffs conceals all traces of the night’s stars. A crescent moon peeks from behind a black cloud causing the bright red blood to shimmer over the smooth grey sand. A hand covered in a dark brown leather glove reaches down to sweep the caramel colored hair off the face of a beautiful young woman. Her body lay limp, spread over the cold soft sand. Her lifeless big brown eyes smeared with mascara and tears sparkled with the light reflecting off the ocean’s waves. Blood, dirt, and shredded pieces of clothing covered her cold porcelain skin, as the twirling wind whips her hair and fragments of her silt knee-length skirt frantically in all directions. A scattered path of boot and foot prints, drag marks, and blood disturbed the smooth landscape; obvious signs of a struggle.

She took her last breath as she stood nervously outside the revolving glass doors of the

Police Station. It had been a long five years since she had graduated from the police academy and she was ready for a new atmosphere. While she loved being a police officer, she always had the intentions of becoming a detective. Her stomach turned as she took her first steps into the precinct as Homicide Detective Karen Mortimer. Reynolds 2

The new shoes she had just bought for her new job squeaked as she walked across the pearl-colored tile floor to the elevator. Embarrassed, she searched her purse for lipstick when she pulled out a dainty gold chain with the biggest ruby pendent she had ever seen connected to it.

Too overwhelmed to think about anything, she shoved it back into her purse as she stepped into the empty elevator. By habit she reached for the button for the second floor, catching herself she smiled in excitement and pressed the button to level four; The Homicide Division.

She hadn’t even gotten a foot out the door when she heard, “Mortimer, you’re late. We got a homicide. You’ll settle in later.” Detective Samantha Tallez; the toughest detective in the whole division. Her long dark brown hair swayed back and forth as she hurried to grab her badge, gun, and note pad from her paper-covered desk before making her way to the elevator.

Standing awkwardly next to each other as the elevator chimed with every passing floor, she asked, “What do we got?” hoping Detective Tallez didn’t notice the slight crack in her voice.

She cleared her throat.

“Single homicide. First responding officer says it looks like a mugging gone wrong.” She had heard detective Tallez wasn’t the friendliest person, but the way she spoke was so cold it sent chills down her spine.

Neon yellow caution tape that read Do Not Cross Police Line nearly blinded her as they arrived on scene. The beach? Was this some kind of prank on the new kid? She thought. Trying not to laugh, she noticed several navy blue wind breakers that read Crime Scene Investigator in bold white letters across the back. Reynolds 3

“Her I.D., cash, and credit cards are all present on the victim,” one of the investigators said as they handed her three clear, plastic evidence bags.

“Shannon Holland,” she read aloud. “I thought it looked like a robbery gone wrong,”

Detective Mortimer asked the young investigator, “but everything’s still here…”

“Looks like the perp just took a necklace. And from this tan mark around her neck it looks like it was a pretty big rock on the end of that necklace,” Tallez said as she squatted down on her heals and pointed her latex-glove covered index finger at the oval shaped, significantly lighter, portion of skin on the victims chest. “Bag everything you find and send it to the lab. I wanna rush on this one boys.”

Making her way through the front door of her older styled one bedroom apartment, she throws her keys and over-priced leather designer bag on the table next to the door, takes off her gun and badge and throws it into the empty drawer. Starving, she rifles through her refrigerator but finds nothing but old rotten left-overs. Grabbing a cold Corona and an unopened bag lays barbeque potato chips she plops herself on the old hand-me-down blue couch her grandma gave her when she got her first place after graduating from the academy. She finds the remote stuffed under the cushions and begins flipping through the channels; she dozes into a peaceful sleep.

Blood-red bubbles form in the bleach-white sink as the scolding hot water beats down on the blood soaked white shirt. Scrubbing frantically, sweat droplets slide down the contours of the Reynolds 4 pail-white face of a murderer. Jumping in fear with ever creek, paranoia set in. No matter how hard the scrubbing was, the blood would not come out of the white top and the brown gloves worn on the day of the murder.

Remembering a secret storage compartment in the floor under the couch, the pail white trembling hands stuffed the blood-stained clothing, the sand covered boots, and the knife used to commit the murder into the small area. While pushing the heavy old couch back into position, an over powering feeling of sleepiness consumed all the thoughts and paranoia, falling asleep before the tired, weak body, collapsed on the couch.

Waking up in the same place she had mistakenly fallen asleep the night before, she sat up in a panic. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest; her hands shaking as if she were cold, but sweating like she had just sprint a marathon; horrible images of that young girl on the beach flashed in her head. She had seen horrendous things in her time as a police officer, and nothing got to her quite like this case did. She couldn’t understand her fixation on it. This has never happened before. To ease her mind, she put on a pot of coffee, before hopping in the shower and getting ready for the long day ahead of her.

Arriving to the police station five ‘til eight (making sure she was on time), she rushed to her new desk and began looking through the crime scene photos. Hoping to have a new perspective on the case after a night’s sleep, she couldn’t find anything that seemed particularly off to her. For some reason she couldn’t focus all her energy and thoughts on the case in front of Reynolds 5 her. She was so extremely exhausted, even though she had fallen asleep relatively early the night before. Nodding in and out of consciousness, she couldn’t help but wonder why every picture she was looking at looked so familiar. It was like she had seen this exact crime scene before, she had seen this exact young woman before, like she had seen this exact same method of murder happen before. She woke herself up with another cup of coffee, her fourth one of the morning, and filtered through the police database searching for similar crimes committed in San Diego area in the past year. Nothing. This isn’t making any sense, she thought as she leaned back in her big dark brown leather chair, raising her arms above her head and sighing in frustration.

“Mortimer! Let’s go, the lab’s got something they think we should see,” Detective

Tallez’s voice traveled from across the room starling her.

“Co-Coming.”

The chime of the elevator with every passing floor was really starting to annoy her, why did the coroner’s office and the crime lab have to be on the top floor of the fifteen floor building.

Finally reaching the top floor, Tallez stopped, turned to her and said, “Mortimer, I don’t want you to touch anything, it’s pretty shocking being up here for the first time, so just try to hold it together, we don’t need you to contaminate any evidence, copy?”

“Yeah… uh, I mean, Yes ma’am! Copy.”

Rolling her eyes, Detective Tallez turned around and began to make her way through the tinted glass doors. “Oh and Mortimer, don’t call me ma’am.”

Pausing for a minute, Mortimer took in a deep breath, embarrassed and then followed

Detective Tallez into the lab. Reynolds 6

Danielle Nations, the black embroidered letters read on the white lab coat. “Mortimer, this is the coroner, Doctor Danielle Nations… Danielle, this is my new partner Karen Mortimer.”

Tallez allowed a brief pause while Danielle and Karen exchanged smiles, and then began to speak again. “Whatcha got, doc.”

“Well, your victim is in her mid-twenties… I’d say about twenty-four to twenty-six. She was beaten pretty badly with a small object, about the size of my fist. The cause of death asphyxiation caused by a puncture in her left lung, most likely by a sharp metal object that was thinner at the tip and increased at the top, much like your common kitchen knife. She was stabbed a few times, but you see here,” Doctor Nations pointed at the small puncture wounds scattered across the victims’ chest and upper abdomen, “the killer struggled at first, he didn’t realize how much force it takes to puncture through flesh, muscle and bones. It took him a couple of times to get the correct force needed to create this type of damage,” she pointed to the one noticeably larger wound located right underneath her left breast. “She drowned in her own blood.”

Silence filled the room for a moment after the doctor’s explanation. The coroner’s office was significantly colder than the rest of the building, causing Karen to sneeze directly on the victim. “Excuse me, I’m sorry,” she said as she leaned forward with both fists planted firmly on the cold metal table the victim lied on.

“Great job, Mortimer, you just contaminated the evidence, what did I tell you in the elevator, don’t…” Reynolds 7

“It’s okay,” Doctor Nations interrupted. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll just have to take

Detective Mortimer’s DNA to detect cross-contamination when we take samples for the lab.”

Doctor Nations reached into a drawer full of empty text tubes and sterile swabs. “Open wide…”

It felt like weeks since the last time sleep had been a part of a normal routine. Night was the only time thoughts were clear and energy was present. Not remembering any day time activities over the last few weeks, the paranoid state grew stronger and stronger. Detached from the rest of the world and own life. Fantasy and reality seemed to get harder and harder to determine. What is wrong with me, why can’t I think straight? Were the only thoughts that would come to mind. Another sleepless night, and the thoughts and voices grew stronger and louder in the head of the murderer. Maybe going for a walk would clear my mind, but, to afraid of what would happen if leaving the house, the decision of staying home was made.

Day six on the case and there were no new leads, no reasonable explanation to the motive of this murder, no suspects. Frustrated, Detective Tallez started from the drawing board.

“There’s something we’re not seeing,” she said aloud to herself in the empty interrogation room where Detective Tallez had set up a white board full of pictures and possible motives, “what am I not seeing.”

A knock at the door interrupted Tallez’s thoughts, “Sorry to interrupt detective, but the lab results are in, they’re pretty interesting, I think you’d want to take a look,” Doctor Nations said anxiously. Opening the manila folder on the table in front of them, “I couldn’t find any DNA on Reynolds 8 the victim other than Detective Mortimer’s, which we eliminated from the cross-contamination when she sneezed on the victim in the morgue…” Tallez sighed with the loss of yet another loss in hope. “But,” Doctor Nations continued, “we did find fibers on the victim from some sort of car carpet and particles of chipped car paint. I had my lab tech’s do some research on this fiber, and it’s the same carpet used in two different types of cars, a 2010 and 2011 Ford Fusions. Lucky for us this is a new type of carpet exclusively used in those types of cars. The particles of chipped paint were a dark blue, At least, now you have the make, model, and color of the car used to transport the body to the dump sight.”

“Thanks,” Tallez said, still at a loss, but excited about the new evidence. “Mortimer,” she yelled, looking for some help with brainstorming some scenarios. Detective Mortimer entered the small interrogation room and sat down at the opposite end of the table. “Okay,” Tallez began as she grabbed the white board eraser and erased everything off the white board. She then traded the eraser for a marker and began to write:

Victim: Sara Holland DOB: July 21, 1986 Cause of Death: Stab to the left lung.

Detective Tallez wrote on the left hand corner of the board.

In the middle of the white board she began to make a list of what the coroner told them a few days before: Reynolds 9

 Beaten badly with a small object about the size of a woman’s fist.

 Suspect the victim was beaten unconscious before being stabbed repeatedly with a common kitchen knife because there were no defensive wounds present on the victim.

 Perp. Did not know how much force it would take to stab through flesh, muscle, and bone.

“…the perp. Didn’t know how much force it would take to stab through flesh, muscle and bones…” She repeated with a dazed look on her face.

“It was his first kill…” Mortimer responded with the same look.

“Good! We’re getting somewhere…” She erased the list she had made and wrote:

Perps first victim

“What was she beaten with…? Something the size of a woman’s fist…” she paused,

“something the size of a woman’s fist.” Mortimer repeated.

“Wait a second. A woman! That would explain why it took so many tries to get the knife to cut through the skin, a woman wouldn’t have enough force to penetrate through the flesh, the size of the object that the victim was beaten with was the size of a woman’s fist because it was a woman’s fist.” Detective Tallez explained. Both of them sit exhausted from the long day’s work,

“Let’s pick this up in the morning, it’s passed eleven. Go home get some sleep and we’ll start fresh in the morning.” Reynolds 10

Detective Tallez and Detective Mortimer grabbed their belongings and made their way down the elevator and through the parking lot to their cars. “Nice work today Mortimer,” Tallez said with a smile as she made we way into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks,” Mortimer said as she smiled to herself.

Tallez sat back for a second and took a deep breath. The lights of Karen’s car flash pass the rearview mirror starling Detective Tallez. Looking out her driver’s side window to reassure herself it was nothing to worry about, the brake lights of a dark blue 2010 Ford Focus flash as

Detective Mortimer yield out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

Another sleepless night, and the urge to kill again ran through her blood like fire.

Memories of what seemed to be someone else’s life rushed through her imagination. In frustration, she slammed her head into her open palms that rested on her knees. She knew eventually she’d have to face the horrible truth of what she had done. She couldn’t keep living a double life…

The morning sun shined through her window nearly blinding her. She couldn’t understand the intensely real feeling dreams she has been having every night for the past week. Nothing made sense to her anymore, but she knew she had to pull herself together and focus on finding the Shannon Holland’s murderer. She reluctantly pulled the covers off her lower body and reached her arms into the air to stretch off the night’s tension. She made her way into the small foe-tiled bathroom and turned on the shower water. She sat at the edge of the tub with her eyes Reynolds 11 closed tightly as she took a deep breath of the steamy air. Just as she began to undress she heard a light knock on her door. Dropping her towel and re-clothing herself in her pajama’s, she opened the door to find Detective Tallez along with six other armed officers.

“Let me just throw on some clothes, I’ll be right back. Come in, do we have a suspect?”

Karen said immediately, relieved at the thought of this case that had been torturing her would finally be over.

“Karen Mortimer, you’re under arrest for the murder of Shannon Holland. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed to you…”

Detective Tallez said coldly as she stared into Karen’s deep chocolate eyes.

Karen stood motionless in her hallway. “I… uhh, is this some kind of joke? Because if it is, Ha-Ha, very funny guys. Now let me get dressed and let’s get to work.” Completely thrown off guard, she turned toward her bedroom and rolled her eyes.

“Karen, you need to come with us please.”

As they arrived to the precinct, memories of the young girl on the beach flashed through her mind like a movie. This can’t be real, she thought to herself as the elevator’s stupid ring kept pulling her back to reality.

They had left her waiting in the smallest interrogation room in the entire building. The light that hung from the ceiling swayed back and forth slowly above the rickety table. Her body Reynolds 12 remained still and stiff as Detective Tallez and the police chief watch her through the one way window.

After making her wait two hours, they decide it’s time to talk to her. Detective Tallez walks into the room calmly and sits across the table from her. She plops a manila folder on the table and begins to speak. “You know why the only DNA found on the vic. was from you,

Karen?” She paused and pulled out the results, because you killed her.” Karen remained silent, staring intensely at her hands cuffed to the table. “You know why the object used to beat the vic. to death was the size of a woman’s fist? Because you beat her with your fist.” Karen shifted her gaze from the table to Detective Tallez. Their eyes met and Karen opened her mouth to speak, but instantly pinched her lips together. “What a genius plan, Karen, to be investigating the murder you committed. And then sneezing on the victim so we wouldn’t question your DNA being all over her… Where’s the murder weapon? You know, never mind. We have crime scene investigators in your apartment right now searching every inch of your apartment.” Tallez smiled evilly, her eyes slightly squinted and her lips pinched together, “We’ll find it.”

Memories of the night of the murder rushed through Karen’s thoughts. As a child she had suffered from multiple personality disorder, her way of repressing the memory of watching her mother getting murdered the same way Shannon Holland was. She had not had an episode in over twenty years and thought she would never have to deal with this pain again. But she was wrong. She had now done the same thing to that poor young woman as her father had done to her mother twenty-four years ago. She had lost her title of Homicide Detective Karen Mortimer, and was now labeled a murderer.