The Resmar Murders

The following day Sam and Hank had spent most of the morning tidying paperwork. They had made duplicate copies of several files, which they had placed in a separate temporary folder. They were due to take the night-shift on Larry’s watch and had planned to go over the key points once more while keeping an eye on their suspect. They wrapped things up around lunch time and both headed home to get some sleep before their all night session.

To make sure they hadn’t raised any suspicions, a colleague dropped them off a few streets away and from there they walked around to the rear of the property they were using. They headed up the stairs and into the room that had been set as a base for the operation. Once there, they exchanged pleasantries with the two other officers they were taking over and sat down, ready for the long night.

So far they had been told nothing suspicious had taken place. Larry had continued working but apart from commuting to and from his job. The one and only time he had left his home was when he had walked down the street to a local convenience store and returned ten minutes later with a six pack of beer. At least he was walking and not driving this time.

Hank took out his big container of coffee and poured himself a cup while Sam took out the file they had prepared and placed it on the table next to them. Both of them eyed it before their attention turned out the window to watch the house across the way.

“Oh well,” Sam said as smiled at his partner, “let’s see what the night holds.”

During the night, they had both taken turns reading the folder they had prepared the previous morning. Hank read it out loud to Sam, and vice versa and both had heard the same details over and over. So much so that they both knew it practically word for word by now, but it was the only thing keeping them awake on an otherwise relentless night of boredom. Absolutely nothing had happened. Some lights had flickered on and off, but that was as exciting as it had gotten. Larry had not once left his apartment since they had been there.

Shortly before dawn, however, the monotonous silence was broken by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs outside.

Hank heard the noise and then looked at his wrist watch. “Hmmm still two hours left,” he told his partner, referring to their seemingly endless shift. They both listened intently to the footsteps drawing nearer and nearer, both men reaching silently for their guns.

Suddenly the door to the room opened and the familiar face of Barry Coulson entered. “Morning guys.”

“Hey Barry, how’s it going?” Sam asked, wondering why he was here as he put his gun back.

“Brought you some fresh coffee,” he said, placing a cardboard take away cup on the table next to Hank. “I think you’re going to need it,” he said before Hank could thank him. Both men looked at him with equal amounts of dread and concern all over their faces.

“Why?” Hank asked, taking a small sip of his coffee, grateful for Barry bringing it, but for the news they were about to get.

“I’m afraid we’ve picked up another body down at the park.”

“Wait, what?” Sam said, making sure he had heard exactly what Barry had told them. He knew both Hank and he had heard it but they were struggling to process this information.They both stared at each other in disbelief, and then looked out the window in the direction of Larry’s place and then back at each other again, one more time.

“So,” Sam started and then paused, “Larry,” he started again but paused once more. Barry shook his head.

“Not our guy,” he told them, finishing Sam’s sentence for him.

“Damn,” Hank said, somewhat angrily, “thought we were on to something there.” They both packed up their things and got ready to head over to the park yet again.

15 minutes later, Barry climbed into the back of his car, his arms resting on the seat as he started to talk. “Got an ID on this one already,” he told them on the drive over.

“Really? How is that possible?” Sam asked inquisitively.

“One of the guys who secured the scene recognized him. The guy said they had him in for questioning last year on a computer hacking charge of some kind.”

“Computer hacking? Wow this guy fits the profile already,” Sam chuckled, as he turned his gaze from Barry to out the window.

“Yeah. Apparently the charge in question had nothing to do with him but he made a big impression on our guys. They said it was scary what he could do; a real eye opener.” The car pulled up to the scene and the guys got out, looking at an already all too familiar scene. “I give you 20 year old Landon Jamille,” Barry announced, waving an open hand towards the victim.

“Wow,” said Hank, “our killer is getting really angry.”

The scene before them was even more gruesome than the last one. The top of the victims head had completely split open, almost as if half of his forehead was missing. Even the tree had taken significant damage and sap could be seen weeping from it where the bark had been stripped away.

“Maybe too angry,” one of the forensics team told him holding up an evidence bag with a small piece of blue rubber in it, having over heard Hank’s comment. “Looks like a part of a glove to me, only a small piece, however, but it’s still more than we have found so far. Hopefully we may be able to get something from it.”

Sam and Hank had seen enough. The previous nights shift had taken a lot out of them so they decided to leave the forensics team to it. They had their numbers anyway and would be sure to contact them if anything new had turned up. They weren’t expecting anything but as they got back into the car they agreed to stay awake for an hour or so just in case forensics did try to contact them. They headed back to the station in Barry’s car to drop him off and grab their own so they could down to the hospital to see how Tania Richards was doing.

45 minutes later, they entered the room and had a quick look around. Tania was still comatose and her mother was sitting at her bedside with her head resting on the mattress, clearly asleep. She had both of her hands clasping on to her daughters left hand. The silence in the room was broken only by the bleeping of the heart monitor.

“Oh good morning detectives,” she said quietly while raising her head from her daughters bed sheets. “I didn’t realize we had visitors,” she mumbled.

“No problem at all Mrs. Richards, you get your rest,” Hank reassured her. “We just thought we would pop in and see if Tania had made any progress.”

“Well,” her mother said, bolting up right. “We had all kinds of excitement yesterday evening, didn’t we?” She asked, looking towards Tania but knowing there wouldn’t be an answer.

“Oh, how so?” Hank asked, giving her a smile.

“Well, we were playing the cd the band had left for her and one of the doctors noticed her hand had moved. He spoke to her and asked if she could hear him and she muttered something. We couldn’t make out what it was, it was more of a muffled groan then actual speech but it was definitely her.”

“Well that is excellent news,” Hank told her, before walking around the bed and taking hold of her right hand. “You keep fighting Tania; you’re doing brilliantly and we’re all here rooting for you,” Hank whispered to Tania.

“Thank you detective,” her mother said, watching the detective with a smile and unable to hide her excitement.

“We’ll leave you alone now,” Sam said, moving towards the door. “We’re delighted to hear she is making progress.” Her mother returned the smile and nodded to him. They said their goodbyes and headed off home for some much needed sleep; not sure what they following day may hold.