The Red Journal – Emotional Handicap

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Saturday, 8:00 A.M.

Any second now Ethan would be pulling into the curb with his third degree primed and ready to go. This made Sarah’s head pound even harder as she stood outside her apartment building anxiously awaiting the barrage. It had been just over twenty minutes since she had returned home from Scott’s loft apartment. In that short time she had managed to grab a shower, put on some clean clothes, and throw some food down her throat. It was a piece of whole wheat toast that was not doing its intended job of settling her stomach. The more she thought about how the follow-up conversation would go after her brother-in-law’s stern text, the faster the tiny vein in the middle of her forehead would involuntarily throb. As the wince left her tired eyes, she spotted the Monte Carlo appearing from around the corner. Another throb. 

The car’s engine growled louder than she remembered. The heavy door creaked and crunched as it swung open. Ethan stared forward confident she’d hurry and get in. On cue, the headache grew stronger. As they drove down the street she could feel Ethan’s energy. This car ride was going to hurt way worse than the banging she had in her head. It would be a blessing for Ethan to keep staring forward and drive straight toward the crime scene, but she knew her brother-in-law all too well. It was only a matter of time before he would strike. As he was over there methodically planning his first few sentences to her, she sat there debating putting an end to the standoff.

Fuck it…

Look, before you go off on me, let me say that I don’t want to hear it. I am a grown-ass woman. So, I would appreciate you saving your lectures for another time. I can’t right now. 

As hoped Ethan continued to stare forward. His eyes fixed on the road ahead. The only change she could feel was the car beginning to accelerate slightly faster.  

Good, I will take your continued silence as an agreement.

Sarah pulls down the visor and immediately rechecks how she left the house. Twenty minutes was hardly enough time to wash the shame of the night before off of her hungover body. Peering at her reflection, she was relieved to find herself in a semi-presentable state. Sarah pushes the visor up again and looks out her window hoping that was the end of it. 

The car comes to a stop at a red light. Ethan starts tapping the steering wheel. He is calculating his thoughts, she knew it. He releases a huge deep breath. The kind of deep breath where words tend to follow. He pulls away from his fixation and turns in her direction. 

Sarah, I am not going to say anything to you about last night. I can’t right now either. But I will say that you had your sister extremely worried. With all that has gone on lately, you could have at least replied to her text. I was sitting next to her when she sent it. 

What, and as soon as I replied, both of you would have jumped all over me right away and demanded that I come straight home. Like I’m some teenager out past curfew. It seems the conversation we had the other day did nothing to show how overprotective you both have been. 

Now, you do understand that I am your brother-in-law and being worried for you goes further than the fact that you are a detective and my partner. We’re family too in case you might have forgotten. Family is first. Before Ethan could say anything else, Sarah hijacks him. 

Wait! Stop…can we just get to the crime scene? I’m not in the mood to have this conversation right now. Ethan, who is no longer looking at her, pans his line of sight along with his blushed red face back towards the road. The light flashes green and the car jumps, swings, and chirps through the intersection. Sarah could feel Ethan’s pulse rise through the cars g-force. 

Fine, but we’re parking this for another time. Ethan shot out.

Sarah didn’t know what was more upsetting. The hangover that was getting worse with every crackle of the police radio, or the fact that she had her sister and brother-in-law mad at her. The silence growing between them was now a chance she could change the subject.  

So, where are we going anyway? 

Ethan takes a second still coming down from their spat. 

Ah, homicide. Some lady went out this morning to take her dog for a walk and found a body in an alleyway.  

Any details on what happened? 

No, there’s a bunch of cops already on the scene. Spencer is there too. He’ll fill us in when we get there. 

When the Monte Carlo pulled up across the street from the alleyway, law enforcement and EMT’s were scattered everywhere. Ethan and Sarah both spot Spencer kneeling by the body as he wrote notes in his field chart. He looks up for a second and they catch eyes. He speedwalks toward them. His focus is mostly on Sarah. 

Detective Wilson, Detective Frost, great, you’re here. Wait until you see this. 

The closer they got to the dumpster the more of the crime scene they could see. Sarah noticed tire marks right away and thin long scraps running up the street heading in the direction of where the body was laying. 

Spencer, what’s up with the tire marks? Is this a hit-and-run or something? I hope this has something to do with our case. 

The marks? Yeah, something like that. Spencer replied.

All three of them reach the location of the body at the same time and immediately the blood in Sarah’s face rushes away. Ethan notices the flinch in her. 

Sarah…you, OK? 

Yeah, ah…fine. It’s just. 

Just what? Ethan now looking at her more intently. 

Ah, I think I know this man. 

Him? How? 

Last night. He was…at the bar. 

That was all she was willing to relinquish. For the sake of Spencer not hearing about it and creating another headache.

Spencer, what happened here? Sarah quickly changes the direction of the conversation. 

Yes, Detective Wilson. Well, do you see that street sign down there? The one by the flower shop? 

Yeah. Ethan responds. 

That’s how far the victim was pulled before he met his demise here at the dumpster. 

What do you mean, so there was a vehicle involved? 

Yes, there was. Violently involved at that.  

Carry on.  

OK, so I’m thinking our victim is wheeling his way home by himself minding his own business. Somehow, someone or something catches him off guard and forces him to stop for some reason. Then, I guess they must have clamped something on the wheelchair and proceeded to pull the chair with the victim still sitting in it.  

With the victim not doing anything to stop any of this from happening. Sarah interjected. 

Maybe he tried. But there was duct tape around his body so that would have kept him in a fixed position. Once secured, someone pulled him up the street at a very high rate of speed, took a hard right and the man went flying side-on into the dumpster.   

Geez, that must have been terrifying.   

Indeed. It was over quick, he died on impact. His neck is badly broken amongst other things.

Any sign of the car?  

Nope, looks like the chains detached somehow before the guy hit the dumpster. Not sure if that was planned, but it did allow whomever to get away pretty quick.  

Witnesses? Sarah shot back. 

None yet. Given the time of the morning, it might be hard finding any. 

Alright, keep processing the scene and let us know if you find anything and I mean anything.

Sure thing, boss. 

Ethan and Sarah each take some time to look around. Sarah got close to the body while Ethan walked back the tire marks searching for anything of note. Maybe spot some good thread prints from the car to run analysis. Most of the skidded rubber went left to right. Across the road which meant it would be tough. The car would have had a big motor to go that fast in that short of a run off.

Sarah looked at the body up and down. Several pieces of the wheelchair had impaled the man and it seemed the left side of his face was bashed in by one of the chain hooks that flew off the car. Sarah was still battling with the thought that this was the same wheelchair man from last night. She did not remember what he looked like. The whisky had banished any chance of that. But this was him. He must have left to go home after the club cleared out. 

Ethan? 

Yeah. 

Last night at the bar I danced with a guy in a wheelchair, I think it’s this guy. I mean, it must be. We are only a block removed from the bar. 

You can’t remember? Jesus, how drunk did you get? 

Pretty.  

Well, maybe it was a good thing you never came home.  He replied with a side-eye.
 
Anyway, Scott, the bartender told me I danced with a guy in a wheelchair last night. This is him. 

How did he know? 

He saw me. He was working. 

So, if he has seen you and you were drunk when you were with the victim. How did this Scott tell you before you had a chance to see the victim in the state he is in right now? 

Ah…not relevant. 

Oh, OK, stop there. Just move on to the relevant. Please. 

Great…let’s. So, Scott told me about this guy, but he also told me about some strange guy at the bar last night who paid off my tab for me. That might be our suspect. 

What do you mean? Ethan fired back. 

Apparently, Scott’s new hire served him. Some random guy gave her a stack of cash and said it was for me and my drinks. To pay for my tab when the time came. 

And this Scott guy didn’t get a look at him? Ethan Followed up. 

No, get this. They also said to relay a message to me from him that he knew what I was going through. 

Ethan places his notebook into his inside pocket.  

You have me, but what is the connection with this guy in the wheelchair? 

I think the guy who covered my tab killed this guy. The wheelchair guy. Think about it, the last two deaths were directly connected to me. Now, some guy in a wheelchair that I danced with winds up against the side of a steel dumpster? Seems a bit of a coincidence. 

So, you think this guy is a hairpin trigger and he gets jealous? 

Exactly. All three of the victims in some way showed me affection. Albeit, subtle. But they did. He was probably lurking, watching from afar. Something set him off and scenes like this one right here are the result. No different then the last two.

I interacted with a person in an intimate way. This way being a few drunken dances with a guy in a wheelchair. Maybe this person got jealous and killed him because of it. Maybe this person has killed everyone out of jealousy. Ethan we can’t keep dismissing my connection to this. It’s obvious. Let’s start working the case from that angle and find this piece of shit.  

What you are saying is that when someone intimately touches you, they end up dead. 

I know that sounds foolish, but I really think it’s the case.  

Do you even have an idea of all the people you have encountered in the last who knows how long? If we think of Steve, the teacher, what time frame are we looking at in his case? 

We talked about this, but it was just over two weeks ago when we met to exchange apartment keys, So, we are looking at two weeks at least, maybe more. It’s somewhere to start, I guess. 

Ethan stood there listening to her, taking it all in. Watching as Sarah built her way slowly toward a lead. She was thinking like a detective. She was acting like a detective. And, for the first time in a long while, she was putting her emotions aside and working the case the way a good detective does. The way a good partner does.

OK, then…let’s go found your stalker.