Chapter 16

From outside, the explosion was a rumble, like the warning of a tempest looming in the dark skies. The shock wave from the blast tremored the ground beneath their feet, shook the windows of the mansion, and caused ripples in the pool to fragment the light of midday sun A voice came over the walkie-talkie. “All clear, Sir.”

The captain motioned for Jarvis and Aaron to head on in. Aaron was so eager to get into that sealed trap door that the thought burned his veins like venom. He hurried passed the small crowd of agents and heard the captain call him back as the demolition team exited with their full protective gear all covered in thin white power. When they gave the sign, Aaron jogged in.

“Jarvis!” Aaron yelled.

Jarvis who was leaning against the black SUV hardly noticed, whatever he was engrossed in had his full attention. The captain slapped him on the shoulder so hard he nearly choked on his own spit.

“Your teammate is calling you.” Bryce pushed him forward.

“Yes, Sir.” Jarvis nodded, but the disappointment of being torn away from his task was clear in the tight pull of his mouth. Reluctantly, he handed the captain the device he was so engrossed in.

Bryce frowned. “What’s this?” His eyebrow arched in question.

“The blueprints of the church that used to be here.” Jarvis’s face beamed as he continued. “There is an old tunnel system used for immigrants back at the turn of the century.

Bryce waved him on as he stared at the screen. He shouldn’t have been surprised Jarvis found something that should not have been recorded. It was why he’d made it into the FBI special crimes unit at such a young age. He took a closer look when a voice was suddenly next to Bryce.

“You know,”

He turned to see an elderly man, dark skin and eyes with real bushy eyebrows, peppered gray from age, “that blueprint there is an illusion. I can tell you that for sure. The tunnel goes the opposite way to your map.”

The man didn’t look at Bryce as he spoke. His hands were tucked deep into his dark pants pocket. “I had it sealed when I discovered the tunnel was being used to smuggle cocaine across the border in the 70s.”

Bryce narrowed his eyes on him and noted the white collar. “Holy Father!” He thanked him with a nod and offered him a rare smile.

“What happened to this church?” he asked, truly saddened by its disappearance from the community. Although not overly religious, Bryce knew that guidance from religion offered more than sanctuary, moral and ethics in a society marred by drug lords and prostitution. For most, it was salvation.

The priest shrugged and said with a narrow smile. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

“I can offer you immunity if you need…” Bryce started, but stopped talking when the priest shook his head, and slowly turned to face him.

“I’ve been attending to family matters in Tijuana for the past five years.” He gave a slight tilt of his head. “But if I were you, I’d start looking at how they managed to get away with this.” With that, he walked off, leaving Bryce staring after him.

Of course Bryce had already thought of that exact same thing. Blueprints and satellite images stated as recently taken had been tampered with, not to mention the removal of a church from a community that would have been against the will of the local people. As he looked around, scanning the small crowd that had gathered, drawn by the lure of the flashing blue lights and the activity at the mansion, he wondered if he’d find any willing snitch.

The thick powder-dust hung in the air like deadly smog, dense and smothering. Aaron entered first with Jarvis close behind waving his hands around fussily to clear the air. Aaron shot him a look.

“What?” Jarvis shrugged.

Aaron shook his head saying, “Sometimes, I wonder how it came to be you were cleared for field duty.”

“I’m that good!” Jarvis said as they entered the mansion.

Aaron and the team coming in behind them, flicked on their flashlights. Their beams caught the small orange reflective buttons the demolition squad had put down as a guide through the thick dust cloud. They travelled past several couches and the one turned over table as they made their way to the DJ Box. Aaron pulled back the curtain and coughed. The place had been transformed into a disaster zone. The formally pristine world, covered in ash and white dust.

Deeper into the secret room Aaron snipped at the acrid smell. As he came closer to the blasted trap door, the smell became more intense. Behind him, Jarvis gagged, taking a drastic step back.

“What the hell is that smell?” he said between retching.

Aaron rolled his eyes when he saw Jarvis pull his shirt over his face. The guy really needed to toughen up.

“Get us some masks will you?” Aaron called back to the team.

Aaron stared at Jarvis over his shoulder. “I take it you’ve never smelt the stench of death before,” almost finding glee in Jarvis’s torment.

Jarvis hung back as Aaron got closer, the smell causing his eyes to water but pricking his curiosity. Something was ripe down there, and a whole set of new questions reeled through his mind. How long the body had been down there? How had it gotten down there? He hoped it was just a dead animal, but instinct told him otherwise. A wave of thanks came from behind him as another agent started handing out masks. He turned to take his and noticed the captain silently standing beside Jarvis. He wasn’t sure if it was the layer of dust or the smell that had paled Bryce’s skin to the color of paper.

“Nasty!’ Bryce added, his hand quickly covering his mouth and nose. “Hey Rodriquez, we need eyes.” He pointed with both his fingers into the dark hole to an agent behind him. Then snatched up a mask and pulled it over his face.

Agent Rodriquez, already masked, nodded and shook Aaron’s hand in greeting.

“Great to have you here,” Aaron said, greeting the guy with the respect he’d earned on several other missions.

Rodriquez unlatched a series of wireless lights from his vest, then unzipped a front pouch bag, which held a monitor, and a remote. He pulled the aerial from the remote, switched it on and handed it to the captain. From the same pouch, he took out a long thin black wire with a tiny camera on its tip. He bent it at one end to match the angle of the dark hole in the floor and stood a foot away as he fed it into the darkness. Kicking away chunks of blown-up floor and debris, Rodriquez lay flat on his stomach and proceeded to clamp the device ends to the edge.

“Something is definitely dead down there,” he said flatly.

“Could be sulfur,” the captain added, but there was no conviction in his tone. He shot Aaron a matching look; one that called to the gods for anything but a cadaver.

Bryce switched on the monitor and got the signal from the tiny camera as Rodriguez guided it down the hole. When he looked up, Aaron was beside Rodriguez with his mask off.

“I smell a disinfectant, bleach perhaps?”

Bleach meant evidence of a clean-up. Jarvis shook his head, his hands on his hips. “Are you dead inside, Anderson? He asked Aaron. “Anderson,” he repeated in astonishment, “I can smell it though the freaking mask.” His fingers pointed toward the mask.

Aaron waved him off. The captain watched the screen in silence as Rodriquez, with a steady hand, kept feeding the camera. Aaron came back to stand behind the captain, his eyes studying the screen over Bryce’s shoulder.

“It’s very dusty,” Aaron complained.

“Give it a minute,” Rodriquez answered.

“Stop.” Aaron stepped even close to the captain and the screen.

Bryce lifted his gaze from the screen. “What do you see, Anderson?”

A commotion erupted behind the team as freestanding spotlights were erected in the room. And Bryce turned to give whoever was setting up lights a shut- the- hell- up look.

“Rodriquez, to your left.” Aaron prompted. “There!” a gasped escaped him.

“Holy hell, I see it, too.” Bryce’s shoulders squared.

“What is that?” Bryce pulled the monitor closer to his face. Then tapped on the screen to zoom in.

“Someone is down there,” Aaron added.

Far in the distance, the camera picked up a human figure. Aaron shared a look with the captain as they both then turned back to the monitor, captivated by the haunting image. The figure stood unmoving. Even though it was mostly an outline, they could clearly see the figure had its legs slightly apart, same with the arms, hands outturned at the sides.

“Female,” Aaron noted.

“How can you tell?” Jarvis asked, coming closer.

Aaron cocked an eyebrow. “I think I know what a female …”

Bryce gave a smirk as Rodriguez seized the opportunity. “Are you sure ‘bout that Anderson. Word is … what’s it been Cap?”

“A decade.” Captain joked.

Aaron narrowed his eyes on Rodriquez’s back as he lay sprawled on over the dirty floor, his black suit now grey as the fine white cement-dust settled. “How would you know Rod, you have only been on the team, what, a few months?”

“Well, word travels.” Rodriquez called back, his voice resonating into the hole.

Aaron flexed; his eyes flashed as he held back. “Is everything a joke to you guys? Losing a partner, a bes…” he swallowed his words; he didn’t owe anyone an explanation as to why he hasn’t dated since he lost Heather.

“Okay agents. Enough,” Bryce silenced his team as he added, “we have a potential victim down there,” Bryce said with authority carefully studying Aaron as he made his way over to Rodriguez.

Rodriguez called to the captain, “On it, Sir.” He fed the camera deeper into the hole.

“No, wait.” Rodriguez put his hand out and stopped Aaron from just leaping in. “Something isn’t right. Why is she just standing there? In that smell?” He tried to zoom in closer.

“Is that it? Can’t it zoom in any closer?” Bryce asked with increasing frustration.

Rodriquez bit down on his teeth. “Dammit Sir, I’m at the end of my rope.” He gave a chuckle, “Literally.”

The captain reached for his walkie-talkie. “Get me Whitmore,” he said to whoever was on the other side. Aaron swung around to face Bryce. “Bomb?”

Bryce wiped his forehead, his hands coming away chalky. “Perhaps.” I don’t see any human would be standing still in that smell unless strapped to some explosive device.

Aaron paced the room as they waited. The pre-existing tension thickened like gelatin, causing his limbs to feel heavy. A few moments passed as they waited on Whitmore, the bomb squad technician. Rodriguez was on his haunches over the hole, tugging at his mask and trying to maneuver his camera so they could get better views of what awaited them in that hole.

“Would you stop pacing, Anderson. You’re driving us crazy,” He demanded.

“You’re so impatient,” Jarvis snapped.

Aaron walked up the edge of the hole and fell to all fours, folding his body into the gap.

“Aaron!” the captain warned. The use of his first name was a clear warning.

“Hello,’ he called out into the dark room beneath.

Bryce dropped to his haunches next to Aaron.

Whitmore came rushing in with the device which was lit up with red and white lights. “I’m not picking up any radioactive activity.”

“In the hole, Whitmore.” The Captain pointed. “Everyone clear out, now!” Bryce stood and waved the rest of the team out.

“Right.” Whitmore nodded, pushing his glasses back on the ridge of his nose. He pulled a face as he swore. “Shit, it stinks!”

Bryce snickered and Aaron chuckled beside him. Never, in all their years on the force, had they imagined they’d see the day that the new generation of agents was dominated by nerds. God help them all!

Whitmore kicked debris out of his way and stood on the edge before unwrapping the cord and dangling the device into the hole.

“What the hell is going on here, captain?” He shook his head as he glanced at the device. “The gage isn’t even moving.”

“We need a drone,” Aaron said. “For all we know, it could be a bomb compiled from baking soda.

“Rodriquez,” the captain said, his frustration bubbling up. “Get us a drone.” The worst thing for a cop was to sit back and wait when someone was clearly in danger.

Rodriguez’s voice came over the walkie-talkie, filling in the silence. “I have one on standby in the van.”

“How do you think they built this without any permits?” Aaron asked.

“Corruption,” Bryce said, staring at Whitmore as he slowly brought the device back up.

“Sir,” Whitmore said looking at his device, “I do have a potential flag.”

Bryce wiped his forehead, removing his mask to take a breather. “What is it?” he pulled a face at the smell, then placed the mask back on.

“The device gave me a reading, huge amounts of sodium hypochlorite.”

“Laymen’s terms?” Bryce interrupted.

“Ammonia or bleach.”

Rodriquez called from behind him, “Someone might have tried to clean up the evidence.”

“Thank you captain obvious,” Aaron said, shooting him an impatient glare. “We’d worked that all out earlier—without a fancy machine.” He added that last bit for Whitmore.

“Fuck you!” Rodriguez flipped him the bird. Aaron pulled a face. “And risk catching something?”

Rodrigues clenched a fist, ready to leap at Aaron.

“Boys,” Bryce warned.

Aaron got back to this position at the edge of the hole as Rodriguez readied the drone, his hands and knees digging into the debris.

“You got it?” Aaron asked, lending a hand to take one side of the drone.

Rodriquez nodded. “Yeah, thanks.” His voice a muffle through the mask. On his stomach he groaned, trying to balance the remote and the drone all at once. Aaron could see beads of sweat dotting his forehead. “Hey, I said I got it,” he insisted.

With the flick of a switch the drone came to life, and both agents steadily let go. The drone hovered and Rodriquez rose to his knees.

“Patching you into the feed, Captain.”

With that, Aaron stood and made his way beside Bryce. They stared at a blank screen until the drone’s lights came on, illuminating the space. It was only then they realized how vast a room it truly was. Some kind of mechanical track ran along one side of the wall, and as the drone followed it, everyone held their breath.

Moments later, the figure at the far end wall became clear. The captain released a pent-up breath. Aaron couldn’t tear his gaze away from the screen. She was dead, evident by her pale stiff features. Her hair hung dark and limp around her shoulders, with eyes wide open like she’d died facing her death head on. Her mouth was agape, and he could almost hear the screams of terror.

Rodriquez stood back, his hands trembling as he tried to steady the drone on her face. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“It can’t be.” Bryce and Aaron stared at each other in horror. Aaron didn’t have to reply, it was that bad, and they knew it, they’d both seen it and it was as real as daylight.

“Rodriquez, are there any explosive devices down there.”

“No, Sir.”

“You need to get down there Anderson.” Bryce swallowed against the lump in his throat.

Aaron nodded, his shoulders set in determination as he pulled a headlamp form his gear belt. The shuffle of his feet through the debris and the kick of dust and pieces of cement was like the actions of a soldier coming out of the battlefield alone and hopeless. After slipping on some gloves, Aaron dropped feet first into the hole, caught the edge with both hands, took a breath and dropped down further into the darkness. With a crunch and a cloud of dust, Aaron landed on the hard ground below. Immediately, the heat and the humidity struck him. As he moved closer, he kept telling himself it couldn’t be. But the closer he got to the body, the more evident it became.

His beam of light hit several objects. A crate approximately the size of a narrow coffin, broken and in pieces had been discarded next to a conveyer belt system. The stench of chemicals, mingled with the smell of rotting blood made him sick to his stomach. A few more steps closer and the smell clung to his skin. Finally, he faced her. Her naked skin glossy, pale and stiff. Her chest had been split wide open, ribs contorted so that he could take in the image the killer was trying to convey completely.

She looked like a doll without a heart.

Stepping even closer, he recognized her immediately and his blood ran cold. Nausea bubbled up inside of him, trying to force its way out. It was Dannie. The girl who had been so beautiful and full of fire less than a day ago. HaHHis regret was like the flash-force of a hundred bullets being fired at the same time, nearly taking him to the ground. His hearing drained of all sound, replaced with his own heartbeat.

She was dead because of him.

Dannie was pinned to the wall, like a school project moth pinioned to a backboard, dissected and labeled like it had been an autopsy. Her chest had been sliced open and her skin pulled back, revealing contorted ribs. He stepped closer on shaky legs. The ribs had actually been removed, shaped like a cage and then carefully put back into her body. Her limbs were positioned to mimic the effect of her flying or, he cocked his head to the side… levitation. The look on her face was sheer pain. Aaron took a step back to steady himself and felt something beneath his boot. It was squishy yet made a crisp sound. He bent down and picked the object up, immediately knowing it was organic matter. He removed his goggles and upped the intensity of his headlamp. It was a white flower. He looked back down at the floor and saw there were hundreds of them, like a carpet of white flowers leading up to her body.

“Anderson, speak to me,” the Captain called.

“Get CSI down here—and some more damned lights!”

Aaron’s fists were balled by his side. A single tear slipped down his cheek. He could not, as much as he wanted to, take her down and cover her naked body; it was riddled with evidence. He bowed his head and took a deep breath before swearing that her death would not be in vain. She would lead him to whatever sicko had done this.

Aaron stood before the mutilated body and stared into the cavity of her heartless chest almost in trance, the numbness of denial trying to block out the rage, the pain and the guilt.

“Anderson!” Bryce called. “Lights coming your way.”

Aaron stalked over to the other side of the room, passing the extended conveyer belt on the left of him, numbly thinking to himself this was the way they had gotten the girls out undetected. An old drug line. He’d seen operations like this before, based on a system the Nazis used to smuggle weapons and key officers out of bunkers all around the world.

The agent who had followed him down and who had been absorbed in setting up the lighting, suddenly stopped and gagged when light flooded the room and showed the extent of the scene. He hadn’t been in the major crimes unit long, but in all his years as a soldier, and then as a cop, he’d never seen something so violent or inhumane.

Aaron fell to his knees as the scene before him came to life in the beams of the light. The line of white flowers lay inches away from his fingertips. Something in his mind clicked, and he did a half push-up to get his nose closer to the flower. It smelled sweet and acrid. Suddenly, it all fell into place. He looked at Daniella’s body as it was truly meant to be seen and realized she had been positioned just like an ascending goddess.

The Captain had made his way down and stood frozen beside Aaron. “Oh, Heavenly Father, what..?” he started, crossing his chest. The horror of it choking him.

“Captain, what do you see?” Aaron asked, gazing up intensely at Bryce’s face as he processed the scene. He took in the flowers and the heartless corpse. Aaron added, “This scene—I think, we’ve seen something similar; it wasn’t quite as extensive, but it might be a build-up to this. Perhaps the previous murder was a practice run.” Aaron pointed toward the body pinned to the wall before them. Then to the flower that looked like a Moonflower but was so much more in reality.

Shock rippled through Bryce as he said, “Devil’s Breath.” He stared down at the flowers.

Aaron nodded. “Named so because the flower takes away temporary memory. Used on prisoners during World War two, and soldiers during the cold war as a brainwashing tool.”

Bryce nodded, pointing to the flowers that had been scattered on the floor in such a way it appeared as if the body was floating on clouds.

“Lorel Palmer.” Bryce added.