Leave A Whisper - Chapters 8-9

Chapter 8 - The First Clue

"Excuse me, Detective Meadows. I don't mean to interrupt. But I think you should know, we've just received a call from the Forestry Division north of Holler Hills," the young man announced.

"What's it about, John?" Meadows asked, not looking away from the blackboard.

John stood in the doorway briefly pausing without answering, looking down at Toni who was sitting in the middle of the floor with folders scattered haphazardly around her.

"A Ranger found another body-- well, what was left of a body, sir," he finally answered.

"A woman's body?"

"Yes, sir. Parts of a woman's body. They said it was an awful mess. A real gruesome sight. I told the Ranger you'd be up there as quickly as possible. I hope that was all right, sir. I figured it's probably the same case you're working."

"Damn. All right. If he calls back, tell him we're on our way, John. And John, dispatch CSI and a crew team right away. Notify the local coroner, too," Meadows instructed. He glanced down at Toni.

She returned the look with a dread mixed with terror, knowing she'd have to accompany him to the crime scene. That was just one reason she'd retired from police consulting; the hideous aftermath of the evil psychosis.

John left closing the door behind him. The office was as quiet as the eye of a tornado before its fury devastates its path. Meadows knew what Toni was thinking. He could see it in her expression. Fear. The fright you feel when you know the tornado is about to lash down and carry you off into its bowels and never knowing where you'll end up, or even if there'd be anything left when it finished its billet.

"You knew it was bound to happen again. It was inevitable, Toni."

"I know. I told myself I'd be ready when this time came, but how do you prepare yourself? How do you do it?"

"You're never really prepared. And you never know when or why. It's just an ugly fact of life, and somebody's got to do the job. So here I am," he told her with a forced, but warm smile. He'd hoped to offer her some comfort. Maybe some courage from his own example.

Detective Brad Meadows, always the gentleman, helped her stand up, holding her coat for her while patiently allowing her to slip her arms in one at a time.

"Thank you. I guess this is it. Let's go and get this over with," she said, buttoning her coat.

******
Meadows was thankful the sun was shining, warming any chill that had lingered earlier, and proffering plenty of daylight to work in.

He opened the door for Toni so she could get out of the car, when a forensic examiner greeted him. Damn. They're fast! he thought.

"Detective Meadows, we've already got it roped off and numbered markers established," Robert informed him, motioning toward the area with his left hand as he shook Meadows' hand with his right one. "You must be Ms. Taft. I've heard of your infamous reputation, Ma'am. It's nice to finally meet you," he told her.

Toni extended her gloved-hand, "Nice to meet you too-- uh, what was your name again?"

"Robert. Robert Burnstein, Ma'am," he announced, shaking her hand. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you both to the main area where we've established the initial crime scene."

The three walked a few yards, winding through a trail of tall grass and brushy thicket on the path the forensic team had created after determining it didn't interfere with the evidence.

Toni couldn't count the markers that were scattered, but could tell they formed a pattern. "Stop!" she yelled.

The two men immediately halted.

"What is it, Toni?" Meadows asked.

"Look. Don't you see it?"

Meadows and Burnstein looked in the direction she was gazing.

"I see it! Meadows declared. "It's some sort of pattern."

"I don't see anything. What do you mean, pattern?" Burnstein asked while looking around.

Toni pointed her finger forming a letter in the air. "There!"

"It is a letter," Meadows announced shocked.

"I see it now! How did our team miss that? We've been all over this area and no one's noticed," Burnstein responded with his hands on his hips. He unsnapped the encased binoculars from his belt and raised them to his eyes. After adjusting the focus, he turned his head slightly following the markers in his sights, then handed the binoculars to Meadows.

The letter 'R' was distinctly laid out with numbered markers.

Chapter 9 - Whispering Visions

Bernstein quickly cued his walkie-talkie. "Where's Alexander?"

"Here, sir," the woman responded through a high-pitched screech emitting from Burnstein's handset.

"Mary, dispatch an aerial crew to the crime scene."

"Yes, sir. On it."

"And tell them to shoot photos of every possible angle-- no higher than 800 to 1000 feet."

"Yes, sir. Out."

Burnstein clipped the walkie-talkie back on his belt with the rest of the tools of his trade, then turned toward Meadows. "That'll take care of recording the crime scene's pattern. What do you think?"

Meadows looked over at Toni. "Good. We also need to assign a three-man team out in the field on the letter's paths. Maybe two men on the curve. What do you think, Toni?"

Toni was standing a few feet from them jotting something on a pocket-sized notepad. She briefly looked up then back down, continuing to write notes. "I think we'll need two people minimum on each path. That way, if one overlooks something, the other one might possibly catch it. Two heads are better than one."

"Sounds logical to me," Burnstein interceded, reaching for his walkie-talkie again. "Alexander...you there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Assign the best of your people to the paths of the letter."

"Sir?" she cued back.

"Pick eight people on your team to walk the path for evidence," he gruffly ordered.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't understand. What path?" she cued.

Burnstein realized only he, Meadows, and Ms. Taft, knew about the letter, and felt embarrassingly stupid because he hadn't informed Alexander or the crew members of their discovery.

Aware of his mistake, he cued the walkie-talkie again. "Mary, we've discovered a pattern. Come back."

"You broke up. Repeat-- come back."

"A pattern...we have a pattern to search," he repeated over loud screeching.

"Did you say a pattern? What kind of pattern, sir?"

"Yes, a pattern. The letter 'R' as in 'Robert,' is clearly visible from where we stand."

"Sir, I'll need to bring my team up to your location. What's your coordinates?"

Burnstein had no clue of their location and didn't know the base point of the established coordinates to the crime scene.

"Ms. Alexander?" he cued.

"Here, sir-- and waiting."

"I've, uh, been busy with the detective and don't know the base coordinates. That's your job, Alexander," he responded, passing blame.

"Yes, sir. It might be best to wait for the aerial team so they can dispatch your location directly to me," she suggested.

"Good. Then send your team up here to view the pattern for their assignment," Burnstein ordered, hoping he'd regained his dignity.

"Yes, sir. Good idea, sir. Over-Out."

Toni felt a compelling desire to get closer to a particular area on one path of the letter. She had no idea why, but it was a strong summoning force. "I've got to go down there," she announced.

"Maybe we should wait for the team to contain the area first, Toni," Meadows suggested.

"You don't understand. When I feel something, it can't wait. It could be gone if I don't appease it," she responded, walking down hill toward the letter. She had no intention of delaying or denying the sensation she was experiencing.

Meadows looked at Robert Burnstein with the expression of a man who was out-trumped by a female holding all the high cards. "Toni, wait-- hold on! I'll come with you," he yelled out, running after her. She was already fifty yards ahead and showing no sign of slowing down.

Burnstein knew he had no choice but stand and wait for the aerial crew.

Toni stopped in her tracks, knelt down on the ground and placed both hands on the dried grass. With her eyes closed and head bowed, a vision came to her.

A young blond woman-- screaming-- loud music-- blood-- terror-- blued-
eyed man-- loud music-- blood-- so much blood ...

Then she heard whispering in her head ... Evil masks a faceless stranger
with intense eyes, to be unforgotten.