Read Chapter 1 of The Past Awakens

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“I’ll have a martini, extra dirty,” said Detective Silas Warren as he sat on his usual stool at his favorite bar. He no sooner got the words out of his mouth when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket.

Seeing it was one of his fellow officers didn’t make him feel warm and fuzzy. “What do you want now, Stanton?”

“Cap wanted me to track you down. We’ve just got a call. A woman was found dead out at 345 Lawndale. It’s apartment forty-two. Forensics are already responding, and we have two headed to the scene. It was described by the caller as a blood bath.”

“Good Lord.” He sighed as he raked his hand through his hair and closed his eyes to push out any bad memories from cases past. “I’m on my way.”

He took the martini and ate his olives before gulping down what he could. He threw some money on the bar. “Keep the change,” he said as if the extra dollar was a big deal.

Silas hurried out to his black Charger and tried his best to think of the fastest route along the way.

The radio sounded staticky, calling out to the units, and he knew that they must have gotten to him early in hopes that he could control the scene. With all of the recent problems the department had with protocol and procedure, Captain Fletcher was on everyone’s ass.

Eight minutes later, he arrived on the scene and hurried past Stanton, who pulled in just ahead of him, and Hurley, who was already on the job.

Hurley met them at the door. “The rookie investigator chick is already in there,” he said. “She showed up just about the time I did and said she was in the neighborhood when the call came out.”

“She has a name, Hurl.” Silas deliberately called him by his nickname so he’d know what it felt like. Stu Hurley was one of the laziest officers Silas had ever met. “You should learn it. She’s going to be around a lot.”

“Yeah, so what is it?”

“Corman,” said Silas, pushing past him. “And she’s a CSI, not a rookie cop like you.”

“I’m not a rookie. She’s the new guy now.”

Stanton rolled his eyes. “You’re like the perma-rookie, Hurl. Get used to it.”

Silas went into the apartment, not sure of what he would find. The front room was clean and tidy, with nothing out of place. Music played softly in the next room, and he stuck his head around the corner and found Madison Corman standing next to the bed, snapping photos of the scene.

“You got here early,” he said, hoping he didn’t startle her.

CSI Madison Corman turned around, and he could see the disgust in her deep brown eyes. “Hey, Detective Warren.”

“Hey, Corman.”

“Madison, please. I’ve never cared much for my last name.”

“Fine, Madison. What have we here?”

“A good waste of a young life,” she said, stepping aside.

Silas looked down and immediately took a step back. “Jesus.” His pulse raced, and he had to turn around and take a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Do you need a minute?”

“No, I’m fine. It just looks familiar.”

She gave him a look of scrutiny. “What does? Do you know her?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. The woman was lying on the edge of the bed facedown in a puddle of her own blood that had soaked into the sheets. Her right arm was hanging off the side, dangling limply as a noodle.

“It’s the way she’s positioned,” he clarified. “Did you move her?” He raked his hand through his hair and took a deep, cleansing breath that smelled much too coppery.

“I beg your pardon?” she said as her lip curled in disgust. “I would never compromise a crime scene, and I don’t appreciate the accusation.”

He put his hands up and backed off. “I’m sorry. Of course, you didn’t. And I didn’t mean to accuse you.” He tried to catch his breath and hoped it wasn’t happening all over again. “Was she strangled too?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Strangled? With all of this blood, your brain goes to strangling?”

“Is there a binding around her neck?” he snapped, not having time for her ego to get in the way.

Madison glared at him. “You don’t have to yell.” She turned around and leaned in, carefully moving a strand of the woman’s hair to check. “No, there’s nothing to suggest strangulation. And I’m pretty sure she’s lying on the wound.” She carefully moved her hair with an instrument. “She’s been stabbed through her carotid. Which explains why she bled out fairly quickly, especially in this position.”

Silas wished he felt the relief he should.

“Are you okay, Detective Warren?” She gave him a sideward look.

“Call me, Silas, please.”

“Well, okay, Silas. But if you’re about to be sick, could you please step out? The last thing I need is for you to contaminate the crime scene.”

He could understand her having a crime scene to protect, but she had him all wrong. He wasn’t in shock because of the blood or over seeing a body. It was the old ghosts that had been stirred up that had him hoping he hadn’t sent the wrong man to his death by mistake.

“I’m fine. Is there anything the killer left behind?”

“No, and there was no sign of forced entry.” She walked around to the other side of the bed as if to get a different angle. She snapped a few more photos from a distance.

“Maybe she knew him?” he suggested.

She glanced up and gave him a blank stare. “Maybe.”

“What about that music?” The tune was depressing and playing on a continuous loop. It was already eating at his nerves, and he couldn’t imagine what kind of animal would leave that for them to find.

“It’s been playing since I arrived. I figured I’d let it play. It’s kind of soothing.”

“It’s terrible.” He wondered what kind of music she listened to if that was soothing.

She moved forward and knelt on the bed. “What do you have there?” she asked. Silas realized she was talking to the victim. She snapped a few more photos. “I don’t think we’re dealing with a murder at all.”

“Huh? Care to explain, or are you just going to leave me hanging?”

“Come here and see it for yourself, detective. You’re the big shot. You tell me what you see.”

Silas walked around to get a better look. “Is that what I think it is?” Her fingers were laced through the weapon.

“It’s a stabby-stick,” she said. “Or at least that’s what the girls in my old yoga class called them back home. You put two fingers into the handle and punch forward. Or, in this case, punch yourself in the neck.” She doubled her fist and moved it toward her neck to act it out.

“I’ve seen women carry them in parking lots, but that’s a hell of a way to commit suicide,” said Silas. “Most women wouldn’t want to mess up anything that near to their faces. That’s why most women go for the wrists or just take pills.”

“Maybe she wasn’t as vain as you think she was.” She glanced up and met his eyes.

“It was just an observation,” he said, realizing he sounded more defensive than he wanted.

“I just mean, yes, it’s not your standard, but it got the job done.” She snapped a few more photos of the hand holding the weapon, which was tucked close to the woman’s body. “She would have had to know what she was doing.”

Silas looked around the room and found a lanyard hanging from the corner of her dresser mirror. The photo was definitely of the woman, and it was her hospital ID. “I think we have our answer to that. She’s in the medical field. Maybe she thought this way was faster and more effective?”

“I guess that’s why she’s facedown too. She let gravity do its job. She wanted to bleed.”

“Or she didn’t want a lot of splatters messing up the apartment.” Most women didn’t like leaving messes either. That was why they often went to the tub or bathroom. “Who found her?”

“The landlord said she asked him earlier this morning if he could come by tonight for the rent.”

“That sounds like she knew he’d find her.”

“That makes sense if you think about it.”

“Where’s your man?” He knew his choice of words was not the best when he saw the look in her eyes.

“My man? Did you seriously just go there?”

“You know, Mulhern. I’m sorry. I meant to say your boss.” He was so off of his game. He felt like he should have stayed at the bar and finished what was left of his martini. The latest gossip at the cooler said she was only hired because she was dating the supervisor.

“Mulhern should be on his way. And you shouldn’t listen to rumors. We’re just friends.” Her tone had grown harsh, and suddenly, he didn’t feel as if they were going to cozy up and be friends anytime soon.

“My mistake. I’m sorry.” He held his hands up. “It’s just what I heard.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I guess I can’t blame you with the rumors going around. But I’m really getting tired of everyone not taking me seriously. I’m here because I’m overqualified for the job. And I’m not going to slack off and screw up like some of the others have.”

“Again, I’m sorry.”

She turned to him. “So, are you going to tell me what has you so freaked out, or are you going to make me wonder?”

He shrugged it off. “There was a case about five years ago now. A man was raping, torturing, and killing women. He would strangle them after he had his fun, and it was just a mess with blood everywhere. He used to position them just like this. With their arm dangling off the couch.”

“Oh.” She looked back at the body. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Well, I guess it still gets to me sometimes. It was a hard case. Captain Fletcher was the lead detective, and I was just his assistant. It was my first really big case.”

“So? What happened? Did you get the guy?”

“We made an arrest. But the man always maintained he was innocent.”

“But you had evidence, right? I mean, they all say they’re innocent, don’t they?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t tell her that he was never quite sure or that Fletcher had really pushed his own agenda onto the case. Fletcher had needed a speedy resolution in hopes of getting his promotion. Solving the high-profile case made him a shoo-in, and shortly after, he replaced the retiring captain. “We had what we needed.”

“Well, justice was served. He’s locked up where he should be.” She moved back around the bed and went to her kit, where she took out a thermometer and a new pair of gloves while Silas thought about how to respond.

He figured he might as well tell her. “Actually, he was beaten to death about a year ago. Two prisoners jumped him. He maintained his innocence until he died.”

She searched his eyes and frowned. “That’s terrible. And you don’t seem too sure about the case. You don’t think you had the wrong guy, do you?” She kept her voice low and glanced outside where Hurley stood across the living room, standing in the front doorway.

No one had ever asked him directly, and he didn’t know how to answer. “I can only hope at this point that we had the right man.”

“Well, we should probably at least let the landlord know we’re not dealing with a homicide in this case.” She gestured to the others out front.

“I’ll handle it.” He needed to get out of that room and away from the body until they moved her. Every time he glanced down at her, he was transported back to five years ago. He’d had a lot of therapy since then, even though he hadn’t ever told Captain Fletcher.

He walked out and stopped when Hurley turned around. “I told the medics we’d be a while.”

“Well, you can tell them it won’t be as long as you thought. We’re dealing with a suicide, not a homicide.”

His eyes lit with disbelief. “No way. Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes people will surprise you.”

“Can I turn that music off now?” he asked. “It’s making me want to slit my wrists.”

While it was obvious Hurley thought he was the department’s comedian, Silas didn’t find him funny when talking about someone’s tragedy. “You had better ask Corman.” He wasn’t about to call her by her first name in front of the others. He didn’t need them to get any ideas. It was bad enough she already had a bad reputation with her boss. He didn’t need to get in the middle of that.

As Hurley disappeared into the hallway, Silas took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. He wasn’t dealing with the past. The past was still dealing with him.