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An Excerpt from DEATH BY BODY PART by Jennifer Talty

May 20th, 2007 at 11:15am Jen-t

I know, I’m a day early.  But as BCB always tells me – I’m a damn impatient woman.  Yes I am.  I’m also shaking in my chair. Writing this book is like starting my writing all over agian.  It feels like the very first book I ever wrote.  I’m scared it won’t be good enough.  I’m scared I’m not good enough.  I’m also scared because deep down, I know this is a damn brilliant idea and I’m terrified that I won’t ever have another brilliant idea again.  Although, the other day after finish THE CITADEL by Robert Doherty (AKA Bob Mayer) I had an ephany of sorts.  Yeah, I’ve sort of got another idea working for another thriller, but I guess I should finish DEATH BY BODY PART.

Now – I don’t think this is that gorey, but I will admit that it could be a bit disturbing.  I will not be held responsible for anyone having nightmares.  And please remember, I’m really a nice, normal suburban housewife (oh just stop laughing).

So, here goes.  And please, feel free to tell me what you don’t like.  I’m open to critisim.  Kind of why I put it out there.

Prologue

     The room is dark and cold.  Faint moonlight seeps through the tattered curtains that once hung proudly in the window.  The floorboards creak with every step I take.  There are no lights, since the electricity had long ago been turned off.  Rats were probably the only inhabitants left, and even they are scarce.  It is if the building is dead.
     I light a match and watch the smoke float toward the ceiling.  The smell of sulfur tickles my senses as a shiver runs down my spine.  This is what I have been waiting for.  I watch the flame flicker as it casts a dancing shadow across the battered walls.  I run my hand over the flame and feel the heat on my skin before lighting the small candles.  Seven to be exact.
     I continue with the new ritual that seems to come naturally to me.  I think it’s easy because I know it’s necessary, but I shouldn’t enjoy it.  It’s just something I must do.  It’s my gift.
     I place the candles around the young child.  Familiar bright blue eyes blink frantically at me.  Pleading with me.  “Relax,” I whisper.  I don’t want to scare her anymore than is necessary.  It’s not her fault.
     The young girl squirms on the floor, but her hands and legs are bound, so her struggle is futile.  I can hear her muffled sobs under the duct tape pulled tight across her mouth.  I kneel beside her head.  “Don’t fight.  You’re time has been over for a while now.”  I brush the girl’s hair back, but she turns her head from me.  I wish she wasn’t so afraid.  This life didn’t belong to her.
     The young girl’s eyes rolled and fluttered.  I can tell the end was near.  My hands tremble in anticipation as her little body quivers.  I can’t wait any longer.
     I pinch her nostrils closed.  Horror filled eyes stare back at me.  “Relax and the easier the end will be.”  I try and comfort her with my words of wisdom, but she only struggles to break free.  I place my hand on her stomach and rub gently.  I used to… “Just relax,” I whisper and squeeze her nose harder.
     I can feel the anger surge through my veins like heroin entering the bloodstream of an addict.  Terrorizing at first, but so calming when the drug finally takes effect.
     I need her to die.
     I watch as the child fights for breath.  Suddenly her eyes open wide.  She stares at me as if I could possibly save her.  Ironic, because that is exactly what I’m doing.  “Yes.  Let go of this life.”  Her eyes roll back and her body goes limp.
     But not dead.
     Her tiny heart barely pulses in slow, unsteady beats inside her chest.  I waited as patiently as I can, holding her wrist, waiting for a sign.
     A faint pulse pushed against my finger.  I press harder on her wrist, but no more beats follow.  My heart races with excitement.  Finally, the child is where she belonged.  I run my finger over the sharp blade of the scalpel.  It fells warm.  I smile.  “Forgive her.  She does not know the sins others have burdened her with.  For it is not her fault, but theirs.”

Chapter One
 

     Homicide Detective Shayne O’Malley adjusted his shoulder holster as he clipped his badge on his belt loop.  Grey clouds lingered in the darkening Rochester sky.  In all the years he’d lived in New York, the sun seemed to only shine during the month of July.  That was two months ago, and today the weatherman predicted snow.  One of these days he’d move south.  Maybe.
He pushed passed the reporters.  A few of them shouted questions at him, but he ignored them.  A small crowed had gathered behind a police barricade.  Hushed whispers echoed in his ears.
     He needed it to stop.
Running his hand through his thick black hair in a lame attempt to make it look decent, he focused on the condemned office building, rather than the five local news crews scrutinizing his every move.  This wasn’t the right night to start his already rocky career over.
“Push back that police line,” he said to Officer Cox, stopping at the front of the building.  The cracked concrete steps crunched under his feet.  He shifted his gaze toward the milling crowd of angry bystanders.  “Put anyone with a camera on that side of the building.  Better yet, tell them to go home.  Nothing to see.”
He rounded his shoulders.  “Where’s Jones?” he asked Officer Gullo, who stood at attention in what one might assume had been a lobby judging by the old ripped up couches pushed against each other.  A sign indicating elevators were around the corner hung behind a desk that faced the main doors.  Wires dangled from the ceiling and popped out of the wall sockets.
     “Arrived about five minutes ago,” Gullo replied.
     “Shayne, over here,” his partner, Will Jones, called from a room just off the main corridor.  “Bastard took her eyes.”
     “What?”  Shayne took a moment to prepare his mind and organize his thoughts.  His pulse pounded in his temples.  Why the fuck would someone take a little girls eyes?
He scanned the dark room where the body had been found.  The carpet was torn up in most areas, exposing a rotted wood floor.  The forensics team had set up lights and mini labs on the old rusted desks pushed against the wall.
     Jones shook his head.  “And the body was drawn on with some kind of a marker.” 
     Shayne swallowed.  It didn’t matter how many times he saw a dead body it still affected him.  Tonight would be worse.  He averted his gaze from the lifeless body sprawled on the cold bare floor.  Methodically, he scanned the room and made mental notes of the tagged evidence. 
Seven cherry scented candles lined the floor, surrounding the child.  Her hands tied behind her back.  Her ankles were crossed and bound.  Her naked body exposed to the cruel world.
      “Why would someone draw on a body with a marker?”  Jones bent over one of the forensics men.
Shayne studied the red lines on her stomach.  It didn’t appear to be a pattern, or a message.  Just lines.  But they had to mean something.
     “Do we have an ID yet?”  Shayne focused his stare on the girl with no eyes.  Her lids look as if they’d been peeled back and almost held open until rigor mortis had taken begun to take over the body.  She looked as if she had no soul.  He swallowed the bile that bubbled in this throat.  Life wasn’t fair.  Death down right cruel.
     “No positive ID yet, but we’re pretty sure it’s Congressman Cavanaugh’s kid.  She went missing a few days ago.”  Jones pointed to a pile of rumpled up clothing.  “Those match the description.”
     “That’s not good,” Shayne whispered.  In general, murdered children made headlines.  This would make national news and bring in every idiot known to law enforcement.  Shayne slipped on his gloves and knelt.  The rope around the victim’s hands and legs had ripped her skin, duct tape covered her mouth, and her body had grown pale and stiff.
     Shayne pulled out his notebook, running his fingers over the leather cover before flipping it open.  He tapped his pen against the paper before scribbling the word eyes.  “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
     “I’m thinking whoever killed this little girl is a real nut case.  What kind of crazed fucker cuts out a kid’s eyes?”
“You really want me to answer that?”  Shayne closed his pad and shoved his trembling hand in his pocket when he noticed Special Agent Kara Martin making her way down the hall.  Just fucking great.  “Who called the feds?” he grumbled to Jones, but kept his gaze on her.  She slowed her pace, pointed to a few things, and handed out a few orders in true Kara form.
     “Wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Cavanaugh himself demanded they work this case,” Jones paused.  “But still, the Cap has to ask for the feds help.”
     If Kara was on the scene, the captain had already asked for help.  Fuck.  “Captain Terrence is a smart man, he’ll ask for it, otherwise the politicians will make our life a living hell.”  Shayne rubbed his throbbing temples.  His life was already a living hell and knowing this was probably the work of either some political idiot trying to get attention, or a fucking serial killer, it would murder his career.  Not that he had much of one these days.
     Kara’s presence would only complicate things.  She had a thirst for power and a need for control.  The way she barged into a room commanded everyone to take notice.  And if they didn’t, look out.  Her badge, chained around her neck, dangled just below her breasts.  It bounced against her standard issue white blouse.  Confident, beautiful, and dangerous.  A bad fucking combination.
     And she’d be the first one to make the connection.
     “Detective O’Malley.”  Kara thrust her hand toward Shayne.  Her eyes might be blue, but he’d be hard pressed to describe them as warm and welcoming.  More like the first layer of ice over a lake.  “Just here to help out anyway I can.”  She slipped her brown-rimmed glasses off her nose, and shoved them in her breast pocked before brushing her blonde hair behind her ears.  “So, tell me what you got.”
     “Not much,” Shayne admitted, taking a report from one of the lab techs.  No reason not to share information at this point.
     “I’ve called in the profiling team,” Kara said in a tone that could frost a beer mug.
“I haven’t asked for them and don’t you think that’s a bit premature.”  Shayne didn’t bother to hide his frustration as he glared at her.
“Spoke with your captain less than twenty minutes ago.  He agrees that we should be working together on this one considering who we believe the victim to be.”  Kara pushed back her coat, planted her hands on her hips, exposing her weapon.  “You okay?  I’m surprised another detective didn’t take this one.”
     He could ignore the fact that he was stuck dealing the FBI, but he couldn’t ignore her condescending tone.  And this wasn’t the right time or place.  “Bug off,” Shayne said softly, stepping closer as he glanced over his shoulder before making eye contact.
     Kara scanned the room then said, “Come on.  You should have taken today off or something.”
     “Oh fuck,” Jones mumbled.
     Shayne wanted to throttle Kara for bringing this shit up in the middle of a damn crime scene.  He worked his ass of to try and ignore the significance of today in hopes the world would forget with him.  He’d made a point of taking a few days off last week just for good measure.  “I’ve got work to do.”
     Thankfully, Jones gave him a nod and continued to look over the body.  It was as if he understood, but he didn’t.  No one did.  Anyone else who put the connection together probably figured he was either an unfeeling bastard, or he was still out to lunch.  Either way, he was fucked.
     “I think we need to dig into the Congressman’s past and see if there is any reason someone would want to hurt him,” Jones commented as the medical examiner carefully turned the dead girls arm over obviously looking for some kind of answer to the puzzle of how, and maybe even why.
     “I’ve got my team working on it.”  Kara brushed off her slacks, but kept her narrowed focused on Shayne.
     “Just stay out of my way.”  Shayne balled his fists and squelched his first reaction to grab her by the arm and escort her out of the building.  “This is my case.”
     “Well, you’re not alone on this one,” she snapped.  “I’ll see you in your office tomorrow morning around nine,” Kara said, then turned on her heel and stomped her way to the medical examiner, and started to chew his ear off.
     “I’m sorry man.  I didn’t think about the date.”
“Drop it,” Shayne said trying desperately to ignore the crushing pain in his chest.  He felt a slight bead of perspiration roll across his hairline.
Jones nodded.  “You really shouldn’t piss Kara off like that.  She can make our lives miserable if she wants to.”
     “She can also kiss my ass.”  Shayne raked his hand through his hair and turned toward the boarded-up window.
     “Regardless.  We can use their man power, not to mention the access they seem to have to everything under the sun.”  Jones folded his arms across his chest.  “If this is Cavanaugh’s kid, we’ve got to work with them.”
     Jones wasn’t normally the lets get along, take one for the team, kind of guy.  But considering Jones’s job at present was to make sure Shayne was still fit to do his job, Shayne figured the man would become Mr. Politically-Correct.  “As long as they stay the fuck out of my way.”
     “You know the drill.”  Jones stood across from him and leaned against the board where a window used to be.  “And give yourself a break.”
     Laughing wasn’t the smartest thing to do during a conversation like this, but Shayne couldn’t help it.  “I can’t afford to.  No one else is going to and you know it.”
     “Yeah, well, I don’t want to have haul your ass to the county jail.”  Jones leaned in closer and stared Shayne down with his dark, near black eyes.  “Just go by the book and play nice with the FBI.  Don’t screw up your life anymore than it already is.”
     Shayne didn’t need to be reminded of his pathetic existence, but he couldn’t afford to be forced on leave again.  That damn near killed him.  “You mean it could get worse?”
     “You could take a day or two if you needed,” Jones said half under his breath.  “No one would blame you.”
     “Screw you.”  Shayne glared at his partner.  Jones should know better than anyone what being stuck at a desk job had done to him.  “And if I’m off, then so are you, since you’re my appointed babysitter.”  One thing he knew for sure, Jones never turned a case over to someone else.  He believed that would taint the investigation, allowing for too many mistakes.
     “I’m just trying to be sensitive to the situation,” Jones said, glancing down the hallway.
“Then let it go.  I’m fine.”  Shayne stared him directly in the eye for a long moment.  His body trembling on the inside, but miraculously, he’d managed to keep that from the world because once again, Jones gave a sympathetic nod.
“Agent Martin is heading out the door, this is our chance.”
     Shayne followed ten paces behind Kara.  He poked his head out the front door.  “I’ll meet you at the station,” he said to Jones.  As soon as Kara had the press distracted, he’d make a run for it.
 

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