From the Devil's Cradle Ch 1
All characters are at least eighteen years of age.
*
Caleb Sparks sat with his hands folded on the table, casually he rolling his right wrist forward away an inch or so from him glancing at his CASIO Rangeman wristwatch, 21:17 hours that evening. Caleb let out a small sigh, he'd been sitting here for almost eight full hours. His back was starting to feel the discomfort of the steel chair for so long, his legs restless from the metal pushing against them stifling the blood flow.
He stood sliding the chair back, the steel legs of the heavy chair, groaned across the poorly done brown ceramic tile on the floor. As always Caleb pushed the chair back under the table where it belong, turned and started stretching his arms toward the white generic tile ceiling, raising up and down on his toes forcing blood to flow to his extremities and rolling his shoulders.
He smiled to himself, cops had no idea how to get information from someone who was not simple of mind. He had none to give, but they couldn't get it if he did. Caleb had his back to the door bending over touching his toes when the door came flying open.
"Sit down. I said sit down!"
Caleb leisurely turned, slid the chair out as it groaned it's resistance on the ceramic tile once again. Once seated he scooted the chair back under the steel table, same as he had during meals as a child. Sitting properly at the table had been something his mother asked of her children.
In front of Caleb once again sat, Richard Carnes, lead homicide detective for the police department in Austin, Texas for this case. Richard was pushing fifty a survivor of two failed marriages. He had sharp steel gray eyes, to Caleb they looked more like the eyes of a predator than a cop.
Despite being close to fifty, Richard was not the stereotypical looking cop, round in the middle. Richard though a bachelor who worked long hours tried to eat right when he could and managed to jog most days.
"Mr. Sparks, where were you at between 15:00 and 22:00 hours Wednesday night the 7
th
, Detective Carnes asked angrily?
"I've already answered that question, prior to you bringing me into the station," Caleb said.
"Answer it again!"
"No, I've answered your question."
"How did you know the victim, Johnathan White?"
"I answered that question when you first brought me into this room at 11:24 hours this morning," Caleb said.
Detective Carnes face was blood red, he'd been playing this game with the man in front of him most of the day. Once asked a question Sparks would answer it, but once and only once no matter how many times he asked or how many ways he phrased the question.
Carnes slammed his fist on the steel table, "you will answer questions as many times as I ask. Do you understand?"
"I've answered that question previously also."
Carnes wanted so bad to jump up and slap Caleb across the face. Two things kept him from it. Internal affairs had installed cameras in all the interrogation rooms only weeks ago. He also was not sure if help could get to him in time if he tried.
He knew little about Caleb Sparks. While he looked calm, docile as a lamb, he also looked like he could have torn the table in half. This in itself made Carnes suspicious of him, someone who could blend in, a man who would never look out of place anywhere and yet looked more dangerous than hardened killers Carnes had locked away.
To Detective Carnes, Caleb looked like a cheetah, quick and deadly yet also strong as an ox. He wore a long sleeve shirt with tan slacks, but the muscle underneath was evident. His eyes, calming yet sharp as any tack, with a warm carefree smile.
Carnes wondered about a few tiny scars he could see on Caleb's hands; they were old, but they could be scars from someone's fingernails. Maybe they had defended themselves from Caleb he thought.
Carnes had studied men for a long time, he could read them well, this helped make him the top detective for his department. His arrest record was impeccable. The F.B.I. had tried to recruit him many times due to his abilities. Caleb however was not readable; he was a blank slate and nothing Carnes had done seemed to alter that slate.
He could tell that within a few minutes of sitting down, Caleb had studied every inch of the room. His eyes moved slowly and casually as they had talked but had traveled the whole room floor to ceiling. Those not as trained as Richard was, would have never known Caleb had just surveilled the entire room.
Once he noticed how Caleb checked the room, Carnes had no doubt that he had studied the building as they passed through and entered the interrogation room. This could make him a high-end break and enter man; they were very detail oriented, though they usually avoided killing. The kind of men who stole expensive jewels, paintings and such. Those men almost always saw themselves as a Robin Hood.
What little he really knew about Caleb was in the thin folder he had in his hand, more accurately what anyone knew about Caleb was in that thin folder, a total of one printed out page. Caleb Sparks, thirty-six years old, single, six foot two, two hundred twenty-seven pounds according to the Department of Motor Vehicles. Brown hair, close cropped along with almost hypnotic brown eyes. Even Richard felt himself put off guard by Caleb's eyes.
Carnes' partner Jessica Mendez had looked at his photo and made the comment, 'women have to be standing in line to fall all over him.' Jessica had set out to canvas his neighborhood and his job to see if anyone had dated Caleb or knew who may have. 'Any man that sexy had to be dating,'" she'd told Carnes.
Sparks never had a problem with authorities not even a parking ticket. It was almost like Caleb Sparks was born just two years ago, to have made thirty-four years old and never had any type of record. He was a high school graduate, never appeared to have had a job, that was until two years ago he went to work for a local publishing company.
Only two known relatives, Mother Maria Ramos and sister Lupe. He did not look Hispanic to Carnes, he looked white as could be, yet his Birth certificate listed Maria Ramos and mother, no father listed.
His high school was three states over in Dalvin, Richard had detectives from Dalvin checking the school to see if anyone there still remembered him and if he had been any trouble. Jacobs, a junior detective under Carnes and former Air Force pilot, had already reported he'd been a football and baseball star, valedictorian, student council president, National Honor Society according to news articles for the school and that was it he vanished.
Caleb had a social security card, voters registration card, drivers license which he only appeared to have got the last two items, two years ago also. No military records, no other employment history, no tax records before two years ago, nothing. Seven hundred eighty-seven thousand, four hundred seven dollars and twelve cents in the bank. No cell phone bill yet he had a cell phone, Carnes had seen him pocket it at home. Only utility bills, although Carnes had noticed a laptop sitting on a desk in the living room, no internet bill.
It's like Caleb Sparks was born thirty-four years old officially. That was suspicious itself, much less his lack of a life period after that. If by chance Caleb was not who they were looking for, Richard made up his mind to find out just who Caleb Sparks was.
Carnes had noticed when he'd spoke with Caleb at his home, that everything was overly neat and in order, nothing out of place, not a speck of dust on any of the furniture. A bachelor's home that neat and tidy was odd at best. Maybe there was a housekeeper, if so, he paid cash. No bills in his name for that either. No car payment, apparently the Ford Raptor sitting in his driveway was paid for.
Carnes was hoping from this interview to gain something, anything that would convince a judge to sign a warrant to let them search Caleb's home and truck. So far nothing, Caleb had simply refused the request made at first meeting. Repeated requests got Caleb's standard answer, "I've already answered that question."
What struck Carnes oddest out of all of this, was from the time he walked up to him cutting his grass till this moment right now there had been no surprise registered from Caleb. There was no fear, no anger, no anxiety, no stuttering, no hesitation, no worry, no doubt, nothing. It was like the man had no emotions except one, of being pleasant and open. So pleasant that it was infuriating.
Carnes finally searching an opening again. "It says here that you work for Cooks Randomized Books Publishing."
Caleb sat for a second. "Is that a question or a statement Detective?"
The urge again to smack Caleb arose, he knew damn well it was a question.
"It's a fucking question!"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"One year, ten months and four days."
"You know exactly to the day, how long you have worked there," Carnes chuckled sarcastically?
"Yes and so do you. It's in the file in your hand."
"What did you do prior to taking the job with Randomized?"
"What does your file say," Caleb asked.
